by T. W. Brown
I explained what I’d observed. Both in the girl, as well as Stephen. Then, I told her where I’d been yesterday. I made certain to include that what I did, I did at the request of Stephen. I may have been hazy on the willingness or compliance of the other two.
“So, what do we do?” Dr. Zahn asked.
“We give these people the option to stay,” I said with a shrug.
“I’m not talking about just them.”
“Come up with a way to isolate people if they get bit, until we know.”
“I’m talking about Jason and the rest of Stephen’s group,” Dr. Zahn said, her voice quiet, but very firm. “We can’t keep this a secret. If they find out later, it could get ugly.”
“It might anyways.” I slouched over, feeling a little sick.
“We need to pull Barry, Aaron, Jamie, and Teresa aside. They should be ready in case things suddenly go bad.”
“And kill more innocent people?” I asked. Now I could taste stomach acid in the back of my throat. Hot…burning.
“Is there such a thing anymore, Steve?” Dr. Zahn sat beside me and took my hand. “We’ve all had to do things. Sometimes they might not have been the right thing.”
“I’ve murdered people,” I insisted. “This isn’t just raiding or looting. This isn’t abandoning people because they wouldn’t agree to my rules. And when the hell did that happen?”
“What?”
“When did I become the leader? When did it become my responsibility to say who stays, who goes, and who lives or dies?” I felt the rest of the dam crumble. The past four months washed over me. Every wrong choice. Every person I’d killed, or left to die.
“You became the leader because nobody else had the guts to step forward and make decisions,” Dr. Zahn said, the iciness in her voice turning to anger. Anger? At what?
“Like who to murder?”
“That’s enough, Steve!” Dr. Zahn snapped. “You’ve kept these people alive.”
“Not all of them,” I countered.
“And what’s wrong with that? Are you perfect? Are you God?” Dr. Zahn fired the questions, leaving no room for me to get a word in edgewise. “You aren’t the only one here who’s had to make tough choices. You aren’t the only one with blood on your hands. I’ve done more than my share—”
“Under orders!” I pointed out.
“How does that make it different?” Dr. Zahn stood and turned to face me, looking down, the anger etched clearly. “I’ve put down more people in a day. Am I a murderer? And when you thought Thalia was infected…who took her into the back of the car with a lethal dose of morphine?”
“But—”
“No, Steven,” Dr. Zahn held up a finger, “there are no ‘buts’ here. We have all done what had to be done when it had to be done. There will be more choices to make ahead. And people here will turn to you to make them. Some will agree, others won’t. Sometimes it will be the right decision and sometimes it won’t. If you don’t make them…who will?
“When I came with your group, it was me who told Wimmer that you you were the best hope for survival. And you’ve proved it. The thought never occurred to me to find a place to make camp for the winter. I was thinking day-to-day. And I’d venture to guess nobody else was thinking it either.”
“But I’ve murdered innocent people. People I decided weren’t allowed to live. I’m not a killer…I’m not a leader. I’m Steve Hobart, insurance adjuster from Seattle,” I protested. No matter how she tried to pretty it up, I’d killed people who might—and in at least one case I’m certain would—be alive today.
“You did what had to be done.”
“I need to tell Jason.” I stood.
“Not before I’ve spoken with our core group.” Dr. Zahn shook her head. “You sit here a bit and pull yourself together. I’ll talk to the others. When I’m done, we’ll get everybody assembled and have a meeting.”
“Then I want to talk to Jason alone first.”
Dr. Zahn considered it. Finally, she nodded. “I’ll send him over to you in a few minutes. Take time and settle down. I’ll send Ian over to check on things after I’ve spoken to our group.”
She walked away and I sank down, this time sitting on the table and resting my feet on the bench. Resting my elbows on my knees and my chin in my hands, I closed my eyes and tried to focus on the sound of the water rushing over the rocks. When had it come to this, I wondered. I mean, I’ve seen the movies. That one with Sarah Polley…that was cool. I don’t recall anybody being immune.
“S’up?” A voice jolted me back to the now.
“Jason.” Wow, was that my voice? I sounded terrible. “I need to talk to you.”
“Is that crazy or what? That guy with the bite?” Jason climbed up on the table next to me.
“Yeah.”
“I mean…what’s that gonna do to how we deal with people, right?” Jason went on.
“Sorta what I want to talk to you about.”
“You wanna talk about Stephen, don’tcha?”
“Actually—”
“Save it, man.” Jason put a hand on my leg. “I already know he’s gone.”
“What?”
“Dude,” Jason got up, and I heard his voice crack, “that was my brother. He told me everything just before he left. I know what you did…what he asked you to do.”
“Then,” I paused, uncertain how to put this next statement and not sound like a complete tool. “You aren’t mad… pissed off at me?”
“He and I talked this through weeks ago, Steve. We both agreed that if the other got bit, we’d take care of it. Neither of us wanted to turn. Problem is, when it came down to it…I couldn’t pull the trigger.”
“But…” I tried to find the words, only, I felt so awful, nothing seemed appropriate.
“You did what I couldn’t finish.”
“Still, this idea that there is a possibility of immunity.”
“I don’t know about you,” Jason looked me in the eyes and I saw every bit of my own pain reflected back at me, “if I started going over everything I’ve done…every decision I’ve made these past few months…I’d force-feed myself a bullet. I don’t know you that well, but your group seems to look up to you. And you’ve managed to keep two little girls alive…both think you walk on water.”
“But I don’t,” I sighed.
“Far as I know, it’s only been done once.” Jason’s hand rested on my shoulder. “Now you should get out there and make the official offer to these folks to stay. Then, maybe tomorrow, you could take me out to where Stephen is. I’d like to give him a proper burial.”
I nodded and stood up. The two of us walked back to where it now seemed everybody was gathered in a cluster around the newcomers. I did notice Jamie and Teresa up on the roof of the living quarters. Jamie was holding a scoped rifle across his chest.
“I want to send a six-person team to that town we hit last week,” I announced. I was standing under the overhang to the entrance of the living quarters, everybody else was gathered at the bottom of the stairs. “I’ll ask for volunteers first, but I want six of us on this.”
“Us?” Melissa’s hand popped up.
“No,” I shook my head. “I’m not going. I was speaking collectively.”
“Why are you so special? How come you don’t have to go?” Lee challenged. He’d regained his belligerent attitude the past few days. A few people had voiced concern. It seems he’d been asking folks if they’re okay with being “bossed around” by a cold-hearted killer. Yesterday, a makeshift grave marker appeared next to our building with Jack’s name scrawled on it.
“There are things here that need my attention,” I replied calmly. I wasn’t going to be baited today. “Also, I went on the last one.”
“And we all know how that ended up,” Lee retorted.
“Lee!” Fiona stepped up next to the man. “That’s enough.”
“I’m just speaking my mind.” Lee raised his hands. “Unless we’re livi
ng in a place where that sort of freedom ain’t allowed no more.”
“This ain’t about freedom of speech,” Jason quipped. “It’s about you being a dick.”
“Hey!” Lee laughed sarcistcally. “The racist speaks.”
A space between the two men suddenly cleared as if an unseen hand had shoved everybody back. What the hell was happening? Was this how it would play? The more people we added, the closer we’d get to the ways of our old society.
“Enough!” I snapped. “We aren’t going to get anywhere like this. We’ve got things to do today, and the six-person team will need to get their rest so that they can leave tonight.”
“I’ll go,” Jason said, raising his hand, still glaring at Lee.
“Our fearless leader might make excuses, but I ain’t scared.” Lee turned to face me, “I’ll go.”
“Not a good idea.” Dr. Zahn came up the stairs to stand beside me.
“I’m in.” Barry stepped forward.
“What?” Randi spun to her husband.
“I’m going,” Barry said with a finality that made Randi’s mouth close with an audible snap.
“Steven,” Dr. Zahn whispered in my ear, “I don’ like how this is shaping up.”
“We can’t pussyfoot around,” I spoke out of the side of my mouth. “If something is gonna come to a head, let it happen out there.”
“I’ll go.” Fiona stepped forward.
“And me,” Curtis—the man with the healed bite—shrugged and stepped forward.
“I’ll go,” Susan James, one of the women who’d arrived with Jason, spoke up and stood beside him.
“Fine.” I raised a hand to cut off the doctor. This was going to play out one way or the other. My hope was that, by putting those two together, they would be forced to act as a team. If we were going to survive, we’d have to start coming together. “I’d like the team to assemble down at the picnic area in an hour. Get your gear packed. Remember, pack light, the objective is to bring back as much food as possible so be as sparing as possible.”
“Steven,” Dr. Zahn turned to face me as soon as everybody dispersed, “I don’t think that this is a good idea …sending those two out together is asking for trouble.”
“I appreciate what you’re saying, Doc,” I turned to go back inside; I know it’s only instant, but I need my morning cup of coffee, “but in a few months, the weather is gonna change. We might even get snowed in. We are gonna have to live together, work together, in short, get along.”
“Those two are gonna end up killing each other,” Dr. Zahn insisted.
“Better now than later!” I spun to face her. “I can’t let a few people dictate the mood of this place. Maybe, just maybe, by forcing them to work together, those two will bury the hatchet. Out there, you don’t have the luxury of going solo. It might be okay short-term, but out there you need somebody watching your back. Lee found that out last time. I don’t think he’ll make the same mistake twice.”
“You better hope you’re right.” Dr. Zahn turned and I watched her storm off. I’d seen the doc in a variety of situations over the past few months, this was the first time I’d seen her close to what I could call furious. Oh well, I thought, you can’t please everybody. Frankly, I was sick of trying.
“The houses are marked clearly,” I reminded the scavenger team. “No need wasting time. I realize there may be some temptation to grab things, but this is a ‘food only’ run. That is our priority right now. We have weapons, ammo, and plenty of regular supplies. What we need to focus on as we get closer to winter is food.”
“Why aren’t we using a vehicle?” Curtis asked.
“Noise factor,” I replied. “Use it at the supply site, you invite zombies. Use it to transport stuff back, you bring them right to us. We have the luxury of being someplace well off the beaten path. This campground is ideal for a few reasons. The biggest being that we are away from any sort of populated area. Also, we all know that there are some bad people out there, but they are raiding the populated areas. It is always a possibility, but I believe it is unlikely that we’ll see those sorts prowling places like this.”
“What do we do if somebody gets bit?” Jason asked.
“Find a spot where they can be isolated. Give them time. Pay attention to the eyes. I can’t say for sure, but the first symptoms that appear in an obvious way are the eyes. The blackness.”
“Woulda been nice if Jack was given that sort of chance,” Lee said, just loud enough to be heard.
“If nobody has any other questions, I want all of you to get some rest. You leave at dark.”
I turned and walked away. Something was chewing at the back of my mind. Like when you leave the house and try to remember if you turned off all the burners on the stove, shut off the coffee pot, or locked the door. Only…different.
“Coming’ out of the woods!” Brad Peters called from the lookout tower atop the park ranger’s building that was slowly becoming a huge communal home. Brad was one of Fiona’s people. He’d been some sort of corporate lawyer. Mid-forties. Used to run marathons…for fun! “They’re ours!”
I climbed out of the trench We were really making good progress here. We had almost a quarter of the giant circle done. What I saw sent a chill. Barry and Susan were limping out of the woods. Nobody else. And both of them were covered in dirt, muck, and blood. Neither had a pack. They were alone.
“Fuck,” I whispered as I started across the field. Whether it was nerves or something else, I don’t know, but I couldn’t stop wiping my hands on my pants. The closer I got, the drier my mouth was becoming. I heard shouts coming from behind me. Word was spreading too fast.
By the time I was halfway across the field, my worst assumptions were confirmed. Both were bandaged up. That meant some of that blood was their own. The question was, were those injuries from something innocuous…or was it from the biting and scratching of the undead?
“Stay back!” Barry warned, raising his hands. Susan stopped beside him, leaning on his shoulder for support. I didn’t need to ask, I already saw it in their eyes. Both of them were as good as dead.
“What happened?” I finally forced myself to say. My hand had already gone to my holster. I didn’t draw my weapon, but that would only take a second.
“Ran into some trouble,” Barry wheezed. At this point, I couldn’t tell which of them was holding the other one upright. “It was dark, so we couldn’t see them until they were on us. Lee and Jason had been arguing. Curtis had to separate ‘em twice, and I warned them that all the noise was a bad idea. Whether it was the noise, or just bad luck…there’s no way to be sure, but they came thick. Curtis went under a heap of them. Immunity doesn’t mean shit when you’re pulled apart. Oh…and what was left of his upper half was pulling itself through the brush so make what you will of that. Then—”
“Barry!” Randi’s voice shrieked.
I heard a commotion behind me and turned to see Ian, Billy, Jamie, and Aaron restraining the woman. It took all of them, and I wasn’t certain how long they would prevail.
“Sugar,” Barry’s voice changed. It had a tone and quality I’d never heard before. “Be still, baby. All that carryin’ on ain’t gonna do no good.”
“Let me go,” the woman howled, tears pouring down her cheeks. “Let me go to my husband!”
“Randi,” Billy’s voice was soft, but powerful and easily heard. Still, it had no effect on the distraught woman.
“Randi!” he barked. Complete silence fell across the field.
“Barry,” the woman sobbed and collapsed to her knees.
“You listen to me Randi Patrice Jenkins,” Barry said. Tears were trickling freely down his face. “I ain’t got long to talk, so don’t interrupt. I want you to know that I love you. I’ve loved you since the first day I saw you. You have been the greatest thing that ever happened to me. Being with you these years…I…I love you, baby. You take care of these folks …they’re gonna need you.”<
br />
“B-B-Barry,” Randi managed through a series of heart-wrenching sobs. “I can’t go on doin’ this alone. I need you.”
“No,” Barry shook his head, “that’s where you got it backwards. It’s always been me that needed you. I was just lucky enough to have you.”
Susan had remained silent during all of this. Slowly, she slid to the ground, coming to rest beside Barry. She was propped against his legs, her legs curled underneath, her chin down. Teresa was suddenly at my side with a long, sharp poker. She and the boys had made several similar weapons using the long pine branches that they’d shaved the bark off of, then attached metal tips that were beaten and sharpened to wicked points. So far, we had a dozen, and they wanted to make a hundred.
“Here.” Teresa handed me the weapon.
I looked down at it, then held out my hand. She gave it over; I swear the thing seemed to weigh a ton. When I turned back to Barry and Susan, her head had risen.
“Barry,” I whispered, “step away.”
Susan’s eyes widened a bit as she looked at me. If the damned things actually see that is. In any case, her white-filmed eyes now amplified the blackness running through them. Her mouth opened, and a mewling gurgle sounded as blood-thickened drool cascaded down her chin. Hands reached out for me until Barry moved. Then, her head jerked around suddenly. She lunged, but missed, sprawling face down on the ground.
I moved in and stepped over her, both arms above my head as I clutched the weapon with a white-knuckled grip that was a mixture of anger, fear, and frustration. As the uncoordinated body at my feet struggled to roll over, I took a deep breath, and drove the steel-tipped spear through the temple, pinning it to the ground.