by Angel Lawson
I follow Wyatt to the showers, which is a large stall with a partition down the middle, our shadows mirroring one another from opposite sides. Before we enter the washing station, we strip down to our underwear, discarding our uniforms into bins. A nurse checks me first, assessing my body for possible wounds or signs of infection. Her hands are methodical, taking my temperature, my heart rate. We do this quietly, with no conversation other than the occasional “thanks” or “turn your head.” When she finishes and I pass the exam, she moves over to Wyatt’s side and I hear their chatter through the thick, canvas curtain.
“What’s it like out there?” the nurse asks. She’s one of the regulars down here.
“Quiet,” he says. It may sound like a typical, Wyatt-like blow-off answer, but he’s right. It’s still the first thing you notice, even after all this time.
“Find any survivors?”
Her words are benign. Post-Apocalyptic small talk (is it ‘post’? Or are we still mid-apocalyptic?) but I hear the lilt in her voice, the smile. She’s flirting with him. A flash of shirtless Wyatt pops in my head and I can’t blame her for trying.
“Yikes, where did you get this one?” she asks.
He hesitates for a beat. “On a boat filled with Eaters. One nearly got me.”
“You stitch it yourself?”
I lean my hand against the cool tile wall. “No. A friend.”
“Looks a little wobbly.”
“Well, yeah, I said we were on a boat.”
I step under the water, wondering how I feel about the description of “friend.” We certainly weren’t friends when I stitched up that wound, shaky-handed, hiding in a boat cabin surrounded by Eaters. I’d been terrified. He seemed completely unfazed. Back then I barely knew him. In some ways that hasn’t changed.
I hear the nurse laugh and I dunk my head under the showerhead.
It’s not that I’m interested. Because I’m not. He’s more like an older-brother-friend-of-my-crazy-sister’s, I guess. Plus I have Cole, even though I’m not sure what that’s all about either, although I can admit my heart races just a little thinking about him.
And before you get the wrong idea, this isn’t some teen-love-triangle situation either. It’s just life. And it’s increasingly complicated.
I scrub myself with the liquid antiseptic soap hanging from a container on the wall. By the time I step out of the shower area, dressed in a new, clean uniform, Wyatt’s standing at the shower, towel wrapped around his waist. His back is ripped with muscles. Tattoos are branded into his skin.
I walk over to him and he looks at me through the mirror, razor paused in his hand. His face is covered in foam. I glance down at the jagged mark on his stomach.
“Sorry I did a shitty job on that,” I say poking him in the side. He flinches, just a little, and it amuses me to know he has a weak spot.
“Never said you did.”
“Nurse Opinionated back there seems to think so.”
“Nurse…she wasn’t there.”
True.
I leave him to this grooming. He’d shaved his dark hair when we got to PharmaCorp, although he left a longer, rebellious strip across the crown. He keeps his jaw shaved and clean when we’re near facilities. I can only guess this is habit from his past military life, or maybe he just prefers it. That’s the kind of information I’d think an actual friend would know.
*
I head back to the dormitory. Even though the elevators are operational something about them freaks me out a little so I take the stairs, two at a time, and enter my residence hall through the heavy, metal door, breathing hard.
Offices have been turned into living quarters—the reception area a lounge. I share my room with a girl named Diane, who at a quick glance is still at her job down in the childcare center. I cross the hall, searching for Cole, and find him sitting on his cot. He leans against the wall, pillow propped behind his neck, knees bent.
“Hey.” I lean against the doorframe.
“You’re back,” he says, laying a notebook and pen to the side. “How was patrol?”
“Okay. We brought in eleven new people.”
“Great.” He brushes his too long, curly blond hair out of his eyes. “We’re going to run out of room soon.”
It’s a concern we all have; space, food, supplies. The population growth is something that’s been bothering me for a while, and I step into the room and shut the door behind me.
“I’ve been thinking about that. Have you noticed that even though we keep bringing in people, we aren’t reducing rations or having to add beds?” I ask.
“It’s a big building and the salvage team seems to do well.” He sighs. “The virus hit so quickly, leaving a lot of supplies on the shelves. I heard them say the other day they hit a canned goods factory down the river.”
He was right about the speed in which the virus brought humanity to a screeching halt. Plus, once someone is infected with the virus—even before they succumb to the infection and die—they have no appetite for food any longer. Well, not the kind you find in a store.
“Still, sometimes the people we bring back in are never seen again. Where do they go?”
Cole’s jaw tenses. “They must not make it through quarantine.”
His explanation makes sense, but I have a feeling something else is going on. It’s probably just my distrust of my sister and her motives. Between the way the virus was created in the first place and the way she acted when we got here, I’ve become a very jaded person.
I sit on the edge of the bed and he shifts over, taking my hand. His thumb runs against mine.
“How’s Chloe?” I ask.
“Better. The bullet wound is completely healed and she’s working through her physical therapy.”
“Good. The sooner she’s back on her feet, the sooner we can leave.”
That’s my plan. That has been my plan since before we got here. Deliver the information to my dad and sister, then leave and wait out this nightmare on my own. The feelings I have for Cole are confusing—everything now is confusing—but it’s real enough that I want him to come with me.
Unfortunately we don’t have exactly the same plans. I can tell by the way he grips my hand that he’s about to argue his plan again.
“I know you hate being here, but it’s the safest place we can be right now. I have a strong feeling the lab is on the cusp of a vaccine and I plan to have some say in how it’s used. Things are…I don’t know. Jane has some weird shit going on down there. I don’t feel right walking away yet.” he says. “Also, your sister saved Chloe’s life. I don’t feel right bailing.”
I stare at my knees, because this is the tension between us. Cole feels an obligation to PharmaCorp and my sister. She didn’t save his twin sister directly, her medics did, but she could have refused to waste the resources. Because of this Cole works in the lab, near but not exactly with my father, and won’t leave. I get it, I do. I don’t want to leave my family either, but I also don’t want to be here.
“Are you getting any more access down there?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “No. I mean, I’m doing my share of blind tests, but I don’t have much solid information. There are just rumors about the vaccine going around.”
I roll my eyes. “Rumors in this place cannot be considered reliable. It’s like a high school cafeteria. You know that.”
He tilts his head, forcing me to look in his brilliant blue eyes. Cole has had my back from the start—longer than I even realized. He’s not dumb. I don’t think he’s even that sentimental. I’m the one that operates on emotion. He moves his hand behind my neck and pulls me close, kissing me on the lips gently.
“Think about it. We don’t have to decide today,” he says. “Chloe isn’t quite there yet.”
I nod.
“I need to head back down,” he says.
“I’ve got a class to train.”
“See you at dinner—or at least at the meeting tonight?”
Ah, the
meeting my sister called. I give him the best smile I can. “Yeah. I’ll save you a seat.”
Chapter 4
Pre-ETR, I worked my ass off in high school to earn valedictorian. I had early acceptance to pre-med at Duke. Post-ETR, my sister--or one of her minions--has assigned me to the training room. Essentially, I’m a fitness instructor. With the help of one of the FF (Freedom Fighters) our job is to train the able-bodied how to survive outside these walls. Well, maybe not survive, but at least be able to run away.
I have zero experience in fighting, but I guess I did survive the journey from Raleigh to Augusta, which makes me some kind of expert. Or at least that’s what I tell myself as I stand in front of a group of twelve men and women. Not for the first time, I notice most are in their later teens and early twenties, even though people of all ages live here.
We’re in the gym located one floor below ground. PharmaCorp provided a gym for its employees which, like everything else here, has made life post-ETR really convenient. The Fort has locker rooms, a cafeteria, a child care facility, huge underground storage facilities, and the hundreds of offices now used as dormitories.
The gym encompasses most of this level, with a wide track surrounding the fitness area in the middle. I was a runner in high school—the only sport I participated in (at my mother’s insistence)--and I lead the group around the track at a slow jog.
“What’s the point of all this?” I ask, falling in pace with Davis. He instructs most of the fighting technique as well as a weight-lifting regimen. It’s clear by looking at his physique that working out has been a priority for him for a long time. He has muscles on top of other muscles. I’ve had a lot of time to admire them since I got here, at least when we’re working together. When I’m not patrolling and he’s not off on some top-secret mission, we have three classes scheduled each day. “I mean, I know we need to be in shape but it seems a little much.”
“It’s best to be prepared for any situation, Ramsey. Stamina can save your ass.”
My eyes narrow. “What kind of situation?”
“Keep moving!” he shouts, and pulls me off the track. “Look, you didn’t hear it from me, but things are about to change around here.”
“What kind of change?”
He shakes his head and rubs the shorn hair on top. “Your sister is making the announcement tonight. I don’t know the details, but the Fighters have been told to expect our assignments to change.”
Wyatt, Davis, Walker, and the other Freedom Fighters are a group of mercenaries Jane has paid to be her military presence. She recruited them right before all hell broke loose, giving her an edge against any outside military interference. From what I gather, they’re former military (or just really awesome at this end-of-the-world thing), and are willing to do whatever my sister wants as long as they’re paid. Right now, payment comes in the form of shelter and food. God knows if and when money will matter again.
I can’t tell if their views align with Jane’s. The concept of her God-like role in the apocalypse is downplayed around here. People think PharmaCorp is working for the greater good—which in their mind they probably are—but even so, I’m not sure to what end. I have some suspicions I’ve kept to myself.
“Line up!” Davis shouts and everyone falls in to the middle. Newbies look around alarmed but follow the others. Within a minute, Davis is giving out orders for a series of calisthenics.
“Watch Ramsey,” he says. I get into position at the front of the room, on a small platform so everyone can see. Davis directs. I’m the example. “Follow her lead. Do what she does and you’ll be fine.”
That is a terrifying statement.
Chapter 5
The auditorium slopes downward with a large stage at the front. A podium stands in the middle with a microphone jutting toward the ceiling. For a brief moment, I have the surreal memory of sitting in a similar room at the summer TIP program at Duke, listening to lectures with all the other nerds hovered over our desks and laptops.
I wonder how many of those students survived?
The room fits three hundred and it seems to be about half full. Children under the age of fifteen have been asked not to attend and wait in the child care wing. The older kids are watching the younger and several of the medical personnel are down in the clinic.
Cole waves at me from his seat near the front. I squeeze through the others, stepping over feet to the empty spot he saved for me.
“You made it.” Cole says, holding down the flip-up seat.
“Long line at the showers.” I grimace as he tugs at one of my still-damp pigtails. “It’s so weird being here sometimes, how it’s so perfect and ’normal’ while knowing what’s on the outside.”
Although if my last trip off-site was any indication, things seem to be calming down out there. The few Eaters we encountered perked up a little when our vehicle passed, spider-veined eyes tracking the noise, but since we weren’t looking for the infected—just survivors—we moved along before anything triggered their rage.
Cole rubs his eyes with the heel of his hand. “I wouldn’t know. I’ve been trapped in the lab for weeks.”
“Remember how it was when we got here? Few people, too many infected?” He nods. “It’s sort of quiet out there. I’m not sure what it means.”
“I doubt it’s anything good.”
I smile. “I thought you were the optimistic one.”
“Compared to you, maybe.” He gives me a quick kiss on the lips.
“Davis says to expect assignment changes,” I say quietly, hoping not to be heard under the chatter around me. “Have you heard anything?”
“No.” He looks up and nods at the front of the room. “It’s about to start.”
Eyes shift to the stage and voices lower to a murmur as my sister crosses the stage toward the podium, followed by my father. She’s traded her lab coat for a toned-down version of the FF uniform—boots, cargo pants, black button-up blouse. Her glasses are propped on the end of her nose. A flash of movement catches my eye and I spot Wyatt on one side of the stage, hovering in the wings. A quick look confirms that Walker is on the other. Why does Jane need protection? Or is it just for her ego?
Jane stands at the podium, laying a single sheet of paper on the flat surface. My father stands behind her. He catches my eye and gives me a small nod. Things have been tense with us since I got to the Fort, and I’ve made little effort to see him. I feel a mixed sense of betrayal and guilt. Betrayal toward him for leaving me and my mother in Raleigh alone. The guilt is for having to kill his wife and leaving her body in a barn somewhere in North Carolina.
I look away without acknowledging him.
“Good evening,” Jane says, voice booming over the crowd. “Thank you for assembling so quickly tonight. I have some important and exciting news to share with everyone.”
“Our little group has grown over the last couple of months, bringing us to nearly 500 residents. This includes not only the able-bodied here but the wings designated for children and the elderly.”
“Five hundred?” I whisper to Cole. “Where is she hiding everyone?”
He shakes his head.
“The facilities are running smoothly, the teams continue to bring in the supplies we need, but at some point we must begin to look outside these walls, toward the future.”
Some heads nod in agreement but the majority look stricken with fear. They’re safe here. Why screw up a good thing?
Jane ignores any dissent and continues. “The research and testing labs have been relentlessly working round-the-clock shifts to eradicate the E-TR virus. Our hard work has seen ups and downs but I’m here to announce that we have a viable vaccine!” Loud cheers erupt in the auditorium and Jane breaks into a wide smile, reveling in the applause. She holds up her hands and the commotion slows and she says, “Even better, we will begin inoculating residents immediately.”
As jaded as I am to my sister’s actions, I can’t help but feel the tug of hope at her announcement. The same
goes for those around me who bubble with excitement and relief. Her words sound fantastic and she seems sincere, but after all this time do I trust her motivations?
The answer is no.
“Is this true?” I ask Cole.
“I can’t see why not. Your father was close when we got here and the labs are literally working around the clock,” he whispers.
“A vaccine changes everything about the future of mankind,” Jane says. “People will no longer be under the threat of the virus. We will still have to eliminate those already infected and God knows how long that will take, but it’s a start. Our teams have been securing a foothold in the surrounding areas, with plans to create viable living conditions outside of The Fort walls. Now that the vaccine is here, we will immediately begin resident vaccinations and assembling teams for offsite units that will locate and inoculate survivors.”
I raise my hand from my position near the front. Jane and my father’s eyes shift toward me. She hesitates but finally says, “Alexandra. You have a question?”
I stand. “Do you plan on working with the military to pass out the vaccine?”
My sister doesn’t blink, but she does get a small line at the corner of her mouth—the same one she used to get when we’d fight at the dinner table, or that time I borrowed her shirt without asking while my grandmother was visiting and she had to be on good behavior.
“That’s classified information.” My father stands frozen beside her.
“Why is that classified? It’s just a question. Will we use the military resources to help vaccinate survivors? I mean, unless things have changed drastically they have equipment and soldiers. It seems like a viable option rather than sending out a bunch of civilians to round-up and vaccinate survivors in the Death Fields filled with Eaters.”
“Any communication between The Fort and the military is classified. Their rules—not mine. As you and many others that have taken refuge here are aware, the military has proven hostile and unwilling to work with a civilian group. Why? Well, you are welcome to ask General Erwin when you see him next time.”