by Steven Pajak
“Die you motherfucker, die!” I screamed, squeezing my thumbs deeper, deeper. I pulled my thumbs from its eyes and started to pound its face, hammering with my fists, using them like sledgehammers. “Die, die, die, God please die you motherfucker!”
When my blows sent sharp pains up to my elbows, I ceased my assault and rolled away, expecting the thing to grab me again. The damned abominations seemed unstoppable.
Staggering to my feet, I grabbed Ray’s arm again and pulled, dragging him through the snow again. One foot in front of the other, I dragged Ray in my wake until my legs suddenly collapsed and I fell to my knees. My lungs were on fire, stinging with every inhalation. The cold snow bit at my face, my head. My hat got knocked off in the scuffle. The scratches burned on my face, and the bite on my neck felt like hot acid burning through my flesh.
I couldn’t shake the feeling that the thing I had blinded was still alive, still crawling toward us. I had to move; we had to move or we’d die here. If the thing didn’t come back for us, the cold would drain the life from our bodies.
Turning toward Ray brought all kinds of pain from all over my body. Warily, I pulled myself closer to Ray and looked the man over. Ray was bloody; his face gouged and scratched. A piece of his ear was missing. His right glove was off and two of his fingers were missing. Ray was as good as dead. I knew it and Ray knew it, too.
“I told you to go,” Ray whispered. He could barely open his eyes because blood pooled in his sockets. “Just leave me here, Matthew. I just want to stay here. Let me just stay here for a little while.”
I shook my head. “You’re not going to die here, Ray.”
With all the will I could muster, I got to my feet. I remained hunched over for a moment trying to catch my breath. Getting my hands underneath Ray’s arms, I pulled him into a sitting position. Against his protest, I lifted him in a jerking motion and got my left shoulder under him. Carrying him like a fireman would carry a victim from a burning building, I took one step and then another. Every step was a battle now.
I pushed on for what seemed a very long time; I no longer had any sense of time. The wind was loud and the snow disorienting. After some time, I noticed that Ray was silent, but I continued to move on. I had a frightening moment when I thought I may have circled back at some point. Confused and exhausted to the point of collapse, I pushed on. Remembering a cadence from my days in boot camp, I sang in my head, my lips moving and watching the fumes of my hot breath preceding me. I don’t remember seeing the two figures emerge. I was alone with Ray and then there were arms around me, pulling me to the ground. I thought I saw Brian’s face looking over me, but he couldn’t be here. The other figure’s face was covered with a thick scarf. The creatures were hiding their faces now. Why were they hiding their faces?
I struggled when they tried to pull Ray away from me, striking them with my fists. They lifted me to my feet and dragged me forward. I realized Ray was no longer on my shoulder. I shoved the damn creatures off me, striking one of them in the face and kicking the other in the abdomen. The one that looked like my brother grunted and doubled over. I found Ray, but I couldn’t lift him, God help me I couldn’t lift his body.
“Ray is dead,” one of the undead said to me. Now the undead were speaking?
Lifting Ray into my arms, I studied his face. His eyes were open, but they were unseeing. His lips were pulled back into a grimace, frozen back in a frightful look of pain.
“You killed him!” I shouted. “You want me? Take me now then! Come on and take me now!”
I let Ray’s corpse slide from my lap. I couldn’t hold myself up any longer and I fell to my side. The freezing snow burned my face. The blowing snow pelted me, like hundreds of tiny needles piercing my skin. And then I was on fire, my body was on fire. I closed my eyes waiting for death.
“Take me, you bastard, while you can.”
Chapter 16
Infected
I woke from a nightmare I could not remember, yet the fear of it remained after my eyes opened. My breathing was labored and my heart felt like stone within my chest. My brow was covered in sweat, a deep sweat that soaked my hair, yet my body shivered horrendously. I was cold to my bones, to the marrow. All over my body I felt again as though needles of ice were piercing my skin. Neither the soaked blanket that wrapped my body, nor the fireplace in front of which I lay, could warm me.
My eyes fought to close although I struggled to keep them open. I knew not where I was or how I’d gotten here. The cold that pressed all around my body zapped my energy; I felt exhausted. My mind could not focus on anything but the cold. I snuggled deeper into the blanket, pulling it tightly up under my chin. I scooted my body closer to the fire, desperate for its warmth…
“Ray…I won’t let you die, here.”
* * *
Later, I don’t know how much later, the fire was still going but it no longer raged as it once did. Sweat drenched my body; my shirt was plastered to my skin and I could feel rivulets of sweat tracing their way down my brow and neck. I noticed the blanket beside me, so close to the fire. I must have kicked it off in my restless slumber. With too much effort, I reached for the blanket and pulled it away from the flames. It was soaked, completely and thoroughly, obviously from my sweat. I no longer shivered from the cold; instead, a fire was burning deep within my core, burning its way throughout my body, scorching hot. I could almost feel it radiate from my own skin.
The Mad Swine infection spread through my body with every beat of my heart. The heat was intense and the pain overwhelming. My hair felt as though it was ablaze. The bite on my neck and the scratches on my face were oozing some sticky liquid. Arms, legs, hands and feet felt torqued, as though the bone beneath my flesh had been contorted by arthritis.
“God, please take me now,” I begged. My voice sounded completely foreign to me. “I’m not immune,” I croaked. My laughter came out sounding hoarse and insane. “Fuck you, Ravi.”
The pain took me, thankfully, and I blacked out again.
* * *
Voices.
For a moment I suspected I heard voices, snippets of hushed whispers coming from somewhere beyond my vision. I could not focus on the words; the heat was overwhelming. Shifting and turning; a struggle just to turn away from the fireplace. My bones ached tremendously, as if the very marrow within was boiled and the bones had become brittle from the immense heat. Through gritted teeth, I rolled my body backward. The floor was cool beneath my back, felt so nice, yes, so nice. The fire was still too close; I tried again to roll away and succeeded getting onto my right side. The fire was now to my back, and although I still felt it, it no longer scorched my skin.
Exhausted, feeling as though I’d run for long miles, I closed my eyes and focused on calming my labored breathing. The sweat on my face acted as a cooling agent as finally cool air reached me, but even the cool air was not enough to quell the fire burning inside. Within minutes, my face was on fire again, the heat coming from below the skin. It was almost too much to bear. I began to pray for sleep again, just let me sleep, unfeeling. I called out for my wife, Alyssa, and then realized she was dead. Mark was dead. Katie was dead. I wanted to be dead.
The voices come to me again, closer now. No, not closer, just louder; still hushed, but more urgent. Stan’s voice. What was he saying? I lifted my head, only an inch, trying to hear. My neck cannot support the weight and my head fell back. Brian’s voice is louder; his words carry to me through a tunnel.
“If that’s the case, I’ll deal with it myself. But until then, no one fucking touches him. Just keep everyone the hell out of here.”
Stan responded, but his words were lost to me. I thought I heard Lara’s voice, sweet Lara. I tried to picture her face but my mind had already lost focus. The darkness, the cool darkness behind my eyes folded around me and I went to it.
* * *
Ray gripped my hands tightly; his nails dug into the meaty flesh of my hand leaving half moons. There was blood in my eyes, obscuring my visi
on, but the fear on Ray’s countenance was clear. I could not see what gripped his lower half and I wasn’t sure that I wanted to. Ray’s screams hurt my ears, penetrated my skull and made my brain vibrate. They were killing him.
My muscles strained against the unseen hands that gripped Ray; I was locked in a bloody game of tug-of-war against an invisible enemy. I was determined not to let them have Ray and I redoubled my efforts to pull him free.
“Save yourself,” Ray said to me and his voice was soft, pleasant. He no longer appeared frightened. “Leave me alone, why don’t you?”
“They won’t have you!” I shouted. “They won’t have me!”
With one great pull fueled by anger, I heard a popping sound and both Ray and I were free. On my knees, I dragged Ray away from the unseen hands. Stones and glass cut my knees, shredding my pants and biting into my flesh, but I kept going. Finally, I stopped and looked at Ray.
He stared up at me with dead eyes. Below the waist, was a pool of blood; his legs were gone. Ray had been torn in half.
* * *
I started awake, sputtering for breath. My mouth was dry and my throat was raw and burning. When I brought a fingertip to my lips they felt swollen, engorged. The skin was cracked and the pain was mind-numbing.
Water. I needed water. I was dying, the heat burning me up from inside. My body was literally cracking and shriveling. My tongue felt like sandpaper and when I licked my lips, a bolt of pain tore through my face so severely, I once again prayed for death, but God would not take me. I was in hell.
Chapter 17
Still Among the Living
Much, much later I awoke on the sofa. It was not my sofa, I knew that upon waking. It was hard and it smelled musty. The wool-like material felt scratchy. The room was dark, but the shadows of firelight flickered across the ceiling like a mysterious sea of shadows ebbing and flowing against an alien shoreline.
For long minutes I watched the shadows and listened to the crackling of the fire, the only sound that filled my ears. I became aware of the fact that I was neither cold nor hot. The slick, clamminess of sweat no longer clung to my skin. I touched my face and felt dry scabs rather than sticky pus. My lips were no longer swollen and cracked.
Lifting my head I looked at my body. I was wearing a blue and black flannel shirt and dark blue jeans. My feet were clad in dirty socks. I looked at my hands expecting to see the half moons scars on the fleshy parts of my palms. My hands were smooth and clean.
On the low coffee table to my left, I spied a pint bottle of Ice Mountain water. I’m sure it wasn’t really the filtered water that originally shipped in the container, but I was suddenly so thirsty. Trying to sit up was a bad idea and I immediately fell back onto the sofa. Every bone, every muscle, every fiber of my being hurt so badly. I imagined this was how I would feel after being run over by a truck and then hit by a bus and dragged for three city blocks.
“Welcome back,” Lara said, appearing at my side. She knelt down beside me and put a hand on one of my cheeks. “You gave me such a scare.”
“I’m sorry.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Like a huge, dry turd,” I said.
She laughed and then fought back tears that formed in the corner of her eyes. “You have such a lovely way with words.”
“Water,” I said. “Please.”
She helped me into a sitting position, cringing each time I let out a sound of pain. She twisted off the cap and put the mouth of the bottle against my lips. The water was so good; I slurped at it, swallowing in gulps, but Lara pulled the bottle away.
“Small sips or you’ll be sick.”
“Just a little more, baby, I’m so thirsty.”
She let me have another small sip and replaced the cap on the bottle, setting the water on the table, out of my reach.
I lay my head back over the arm of the sofa. I was still very tired but I didn’t want to sleep anymore. I had no idea how long I’d been in and out of consciousness, so I asked Lara.
“Three days,” she responded. “Your fever was out of control. You were burning up and we didn’t know what to do. Everyone thought you were infected and they wanted us to...I don’t want to say, but Brian wouldn’t let them touch you. He threatened to kill them all if anyone even got near you. I think he meant it. I…I really think he would have killed them.”
“You’re babbling a bit, baby,” I said.
“I’m sorry, I just been so worried about you and I thought I was going to lose you. We really thought you were dying, that you were turning into one of those things.”
“Ravi said I was immune. She was wrong.”
Lara shook her head. Her eyes were stretched so wide she looked comical. “She was right. The infection tried to take you but it couldn’t. Your body fought the disease and won.”
I pondered that for a while. I had been exposed to Mad Swine many times in the past, but I’d never experienced the burning fever or the horrible pain that shot through my body. But I’d also never been bitten before. My hand went to my neck, my fingers probing tenderly for the spot where one of the crazies had torn into my flesh with its rotten teeth. The wound was covered in gauze.
“Do you remember what happened?” Lara asked, bringing me back to the conversation.
I shook my head. “Some, I guess. I remember pushing Ray in his chair and then those things attacked us. I remember being bitten and…I…I think Ray died.”
Lara took my hand and held it tightly in her own. “He did, honey. Brian said when he and Justin found you, you were carrying Ray’s body. He said you didn’t want to let him go, that you fought with him and Justin.”
I remembered the two figures coming out of the blizzard, trying to take Ray. I thought maybe that had been part of a dream. I didn’t remember fighting my brother or Justin.
“I don’t remember,” I said.
“Justin still has a shiner where you hit him. He told me you hit him so hard he almost couldn’t stand up again.”
“Where are we?” I asked suddenly.
“I don’t know exactly where, but this is the shelter that was on Brian’s map. This is where we were trying to get to when the snow came.”
“Where is everyone? Did we lose Al Sanchez?”
Her head nodded but she didn’t speak for a moment. Finally, she said, “Al and his family left after Chandra died, honey, don’t you remember?”
I closed my eyes, trying to compose my jumbled memories. Chandra was dead, attacked on watch. Brian had blamed Al and in the morning he was gone; he’d taken his family and two others and left. And Chandra was dead, by my hand. Ray was dead. Bruce Halverson and Anne Marie Lepore were dead, shot in the head as an act of mercy.
“We only lost Ray then,” I said.
“No, honey, Liam is dead. We were attacked, too. Liam didn’t make it.”
* * *
Lara left me alone for a while. I closed my eyes and dozed in and out of sleep. It was difficult to get comfortable on the hard sofa. No matter which way I lay, my body ached or throbbed. After a while I sat up, taking great care and moving slowly.
The room was smaller than I imagined it, but I’d had an extremely high fever and I’d been unable to separate hallucinations and dreams from reality. A desk that looked like it had been built at the turn of the 19th century stood in front of a bay window. The thick curtains were currently drawn. The sofa was at the center of the room, positioned in front of a small fireplace; above the mantle hung a painting of a young woman sitting on the threshold of an open door, sunlight slanting into the shadowy interior, and beyond a field of tall grass. I thought I recognized the painting.
Behind the sofa stood a wide, rustic bookshelf filled with volumes of paperback and hardcover tomes. Although the bookshelf portrayed a rugged, aged look, it had been built recently and made to appear distressed by the craftsman. Beneath the pale green paint, portions of wood with a handsome patina lent a certain charm to the piece of furniture. The owner had created a cozy offic
e.
The click of a doorknob drew my attention. I looked up to see Brian closing the door softly behind him. He saw me sitting up and a big grin spread across his face. Sitting down next to me he said, “Still among the living, brother. Not even the zombie apocalypse can put you down.”
I smiled. “They’re not zombies. And I got lucky.”
“What happened out there, dude? I mean, you and Ray…”
“I don’t remember all of it. And what I do remember, I’m not sure if I dreamed it or if it was real. They came out of the blizzard like sharks drawn to blood. It was like…like they could smell us. They pulled Ray down and one of them jumped me. After that I don’t really remember what happened.”
“When Justin and I found you, you tried to beat the shit out of us. You gave us a run for our money, and you were carrying Ray on one shoulder.”
“I thought you were those things coming back for us,” I said. “You guys shouldn’t have come back. You could have died out there.”
“We didn’t come very far. You were less than an eighth of a mile from here. Justin thought he heard your voice. We walked less than two minutes and there you were.”
Together we fell into a mutual silence. I shifted my position on the sofa, pulling one of my legs up under me. I braced for the pain, but it wasn’t so bad. Perhaps my body was starting to loosen up, to bounce back from the deadly infection.
“Lara told me about Liam. I’m sorry, man.”