Plaguesville, USA

by Jim LaVigne

  “Hey, little guy,” said Justin, in that high, gentle tone adults reserve for pets and children. “It’s OK, I won’t hurt you! Can you talk? Do you understand me?”

  The child just crouched there like a skinny little monkey and stared edgily back. Justin, looking more closely, saw now that it was a boy, about seven or eight years old, and apparently healthy and alert. He was going to try speaking to the little fellow again when the kid snatched up the dead rabbit, thrust it in Justin’s direction, and mimed eating. Justin’s stomach churned as he waved the thing away.

  “No thank you,” he managed. The kid eyed him curiously for a moment and then shrugged unconcernedly and, taking great, savage bites, tore into the carcass. Justin turned away in disgust and, in so doing, saw that there was a door, just behind him, with a promising glow of sunlight beyond. Slowly, watching the kid in his peripheral vision, he edged over to the door and put his hand to the handle. The kid watched but made no move to stop him and so he slowly pulled the door open and, shading his eyes, looked out into glaring midday sunlight. Tottering like a drunk, he mounted three steps and walked out of the shed.

  Looking around, unsure of what to expect, he found that he was still at the tornado-ravaged farm. Dully, still in a fog from whatever the Small Man had used to sedate him, he recalled all that had happened and then had to sit down. For a long time, it felt like, as nauseating sounds of crunching and slurping came from the shed, he sat, numb as a stone, and stared at the ground.

  After all they’d been through, all they’d had to overcome, they’d finally failed. For real. There would be no rescue this time, no deus ex machina to save them. The Old Man was gone and all of the terrible sacrifices of Justin’s colleagues and friends had amounted to a great big fat nothing. Zip, zilch, nada. Maybe someone out there would have the presence of mind to grasp Lampert’s importance, but the odds of that happening before the Old Man died were probably so slim as to be inconsequential. They had failed and now humanity itself was done for. The End.

  So why did he have such a hard time caring? Maybe he was in shock, or maybe he was flat-out emotionally overloaded, but for whatever reason, it just didn’t seem to matter. He had almost mustered the energy to feel bad when Erin Swails suddenly came walking up through the tall grass. Hastily collecting himself with no small effort, he shook himself and struggled to his feet. Erin, looking haggard and beat up and generally unwell, came over to him and gave a sickly smile.

  “Hi, Doctor Kaes,” she said. “Are you OK?”

  Justin scowled. “No, not really,” he said bleakly. “In fact, I feel pretty lousy, all in all.”

  “Yeah, me too,” said Erin. “But it wears off. I feel better than when I first woke up, anyway.”

  Justin groaned and rubbed his temples. “What about him?” he asked, gesturing toward the shed. “The kid.”

  “You got me,” shrugged Erin. “I woke up in there, with that weird little guy pokin’ a dead rabbit in my face. Ugh! So I came out here, had a look around. I was just coming back to see if you were awake yet.”

  “Huh,” said Justin heavily. “I almost wish I wasn’t.” Something occurred to him and he cast about. “What about Bowler? Is he here, too?”

  “Haven’t seen him. But then, somebody had to have dragged us into that shed, right? So who knows? Maybe he woke up before we did, hauled us in there and then went out exploring or whatever.”

  Justin nodded; that sounded logical. Erin just stood and shuffled her feet. Justin tried to think, but it was all so pointless and he felt so sick and generally detached that it was far from easy. Finally he gave a resigned sigh and looked around at the ruined farmstead.

  “So,” Erin said. “What are we gonna do?”

  Justin shook his head. “I honestly don’t know. I need some time to think.”

  “Yeah, OK, I hear that. As for me? I think I’ll have a look around, maybe see if I can’t find something besides raw rabbit to eat.”

  Justin nodded. “Yes, of course. You go ahead and do that.”

  Erin looked at him sadly for a moment. Then she clapped him lightly on the shoulder and eked out a thin smile. “Don’t worry, Doc,” she said. “We’ll be OK.”

  “Oh, I suppose we will,” said Justin tiredly. “But what about the rest?”

  Erin had no answer to that.

  As it transpired, the Kid was more or less what one might consider feral. He didn’t speak, couldn’t understand English, and generally behaved for all the world like a poorly-trained dog. For that, though, Justin recognized a keen spark of intelligence in the boy’s eyes. He might be wild, but he was far from stupid.

  He and Erin spent their first day as the Kid’s guest simply resting and recuperating. They couldn’t find anything else to eat, but they were able to find some old-fashioned kitchen matches in the shed, with which they started a fire to roast a rabbit. The Kid was flat-out amazed at the matches. Every time Justin lit one, he would jump and clap and make a strange hooting sound of unmistakable glee. He wasn’t as keen on the idea of cooked rabbits, though, and grimaced and shook his head when offered a roasted haunch.

  Justin felt marginally better, at least physically, and after they’d eaten and cleaned up, sat back with Erin outside the shed and watched the sunset. The Kid, with no warning or explanation, came out of the shed and promptly vanished into the darkening landscape.

  “So,” Erin said, uneasily breaking the silence, “what do you think, Doctor? About the kid, I mean.”

  “I would say,” Justin sighed, “that he’s an orphan of the Plague. Like so many others.”

  “Yeah, but how did he survive? Don’t you think he must’ve had some kinda help? I mean, he’s just a little kid!”

  “Don’t be so sure,” said Justin. “There are recorded cases of feral children throughout human history. Maybe he just got lucky.”

  “I suppose so,” said Erin dubiously. “I guess I was just hoping that there was somebody else around here, you know? Some adult, that is.”

  Justin frowned. “I doubt it,” he said. “No, I think our little host is on his own. Unfortunately.”

  “Do you think he’s got a name?” Erin wondered aloud. “After all, we can’t just call him Kid, can we?”

  “I don’t suppose it matters,” Justin said. “Even if he had a name, he can’t tell us what it was. And if he never had one, well…” he trailed off. Erin just nodded.

  “What about the body?” she asked, after a pause. “Cornell’s body, I mean.”

  “What about it?”

  “Well, it’s gone, isn’t it?” Erin said. “So where did it go?”

  “You don’t think,” Justin said queasily. “Not the child, surely? He wouldn’t… eat someone, would he?”

  “I don’t know,” she said, making a face. “I guess it’s possible. Or maybe Bowler did something with the corpse. Buried it before he wandered away.”

  “Maybe.”

  Erin nodded again and went quiet. Justin tried not to think about what had happened to the body of poor Cornell. There was a long pause as they sat and watched the sun sink into a bank of black clouds. From out in the gloom there came some animal noises, odd yelps and grunts Justin didn’t recognize. Then silence again.

  “Doctor Kaes?” said Erin, very softly.

  “Yes?”

  “What are we going to do? I mean, we’re not going to stay here, are we?”

  Justin considered for a moment, but then found that he’d already decided on what he wanted to do next, as if his mind and willpower had been working independently and now offered their conclusion.

  “Well,” he said, sounding a lot more resolute than he felt, “first off, I think we should rest and get some more food. Whatever that little bald psycho shot us up with, probably an animal tranquilizer, it was nothing to mess with. I still feel like hell. And then we’ll need some sleep. I think, oh, another day or so should do it.”

  “And then?”

  “Then, we go on,” said Justin. “After all, as fa
r as we know, Mr. Lampert is still alive. And as long as he is, there’s still a chance, however slim. Oh, I know that this man—the one who took Mr. Lampert—I know he’s got a car and guns and we’re on foot and that theoretically we have no more chance of finding him and catching up to him than we do of flying to the moon, and even if we do he’ll likely just shoot us, but still, I propose that we try to follow him. It may be hopeless and it may be stupid, but until I see Mr. Lampert’s body or have definite proof of his death, I can’t quit. Not even after all this.”

  He thought of telling Erin that he didn’t expect her to come along, that she’d more than done her duty and could go her own way if she so desired, but then, feeling that it would be somehow deeply insulting, said nothing. Swails herself only smiled and nodded.

  “You know something?” she said.

  “What’s that?”

  “I was really hoping you’d say that.”

  “Well, good,” said Justin. “So it’s settled. Now let’s see if we can’t find somewhere decent to sleep.”

  Since it was the only intact structure in sight, they bedded down as best they could in the cramped, smelly shed. The Kid returned as they were doing so, appearing as silently and unexpectedly as he’d left, with a pair of what looked like gophers clutched in his grubby fists. Going straight to Erin, he proffered the dripping, bloody things, but she shook her head in disgust and held out both hands in rejection.

  “No thanks!” she said. “Not a big fan of raw rodent, thank you.”

  Unconcerned, tossing the little carcasses into a corner, the Kid crouched at a safe distance like an untamed cat and stared at them. Justin couldn’t help but notice that he spent most of his time gazing at Erin.

  “I think he likes you,” smiled Justin.

  “Yeah, I think you’re right,” said Erin. “but man, he sure stinks, doesn’t he?”

  “Yes, well, personal hygiene is probably not too high on his list of priorities.”

  “Guess not. Do you think we should try to, I don’t know, civilize him? I mean, we could at least give him a bath.”

  “Hmm, I don’t know,” said Justin. “After all, just look at him: Does he look like he’d just hop into a nice tub of hot soapy water?”

  “No, not at all,” ceded Erin. “In fact, he looks like he’d take my arm off if I so much as tried to touch him.”

  “Indeed.”

  “How old do you think he is?” wondered Erin.

  “Oh, I don’t know,” said Justin. “Six, seven years? It’s kind of hard to tell, and I’m no pediatrician.”

  “Pretty amazing,” said Erin. “But, what about later, when we go? We can’t just leave him here on his own, can we?”

  Justin shrugged. “I suppose it’s his decision. If he wants to come with us, well fine. If not? Well, he seems to have survived this long.”

  “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”

  Through this exchange, the Kid, a deeply quizzical expression on his smudged features, sat riveted in attention, as if he was watching the strangest thing he’d ever seen, and looked from speaker to speaker as if it was a tennis match. When they fell silent, he refocused on Erin.

  “Well,” said Justin finally, yawning, “at this point, I don’t much care, I’m afraid. We’ll just see what happens.” He lay back on his makeshift bed (mostly rags and grass) and heaved a sigh. “Now get some sleep. We’re going to need it.”

  “What about him?” Erin said. “I mean, do you think it’s safe to just go to sleep around this kid? What if he does something while we’re asleep?”

  “Like what?” said Justin wearily. “Rob us? We don’t have anything! Or kill us? He could have done that any time he’d wanted to, while we were unconscious and helpless. No, I think we’re safe enough.”

  “Well, OK,” said the other. “I just wish he wouldn’t stare at me like that.”

  Justin almost laughed. “Don’t worry,” he told Erin. “It’s probably just a schoolboy crush. You should be flattered!”

  “Hey, great,” said Erin acidly, trying to get comfortable. “Let’s just hope he doesn’t bring me any more presents.”

  The next day, they were basking in the sun, digesting a meal of oatmeal (scavenged from the flotsam) and fried gopher, when the Kid, who’d been sitting and watching them, as always, suddenly bolted to his feet. Thin frame tensed, he tilted his head back, sniffed the air, and cast about. Then, gesturing madly for Justin and Erin to follow, he ran for his shed. In another two seconds, he had vanished within.

  “What’s eating him?” asked Erin. “It’s like he’s scared of something.”

  “Yes,” frowned Justin. “And if he’s afraid, maybe we should be, too. Come on, let’s get under cover.”

  They hid in the shed for a few minutes, watching out of a crack in the door, as the sun beat down and the flies buzzed, but nothing happened. Justin was about to give up and leave the sweltering little pillbox, but then he heard the sound of footsteps and the swish of someone walking through grass. Tensing, he looked around for a possible weapon, but soon sagged in relief as a familiar voice rang out.

  “Hey, anybody here?! Doctor Case? Y’all in there?”

  “Oh, thank Christ,” said Justin, sagging. “It’s only Bowler.”

  “Yeah,” Erin sighed, wiping her brow. “Bowler. Now, what say we go see what he’s been up to.”

  As it turned out, the young man had evidently been up to quite a lot. Excitedly, once he’d had some water and a little oatmeal, he told his tale.

  “I woke up and y’all were still dead to the world, so I dragged ya’ll into that little shed thing, and there was this kid—well, I guess you met him by now. Anyway, I got up, feeling like shit, and looked around and whatnot, had some water an’ some of the kid’s rabbit meat. But y’all were still out, you know? And the kid, he didn’t talk or nothin’, so I figured well, I better see if I can’t find some help, you know? Maybe there’s somebody or something around that can help us.

  “Anyhow, I just started walkin’ up the road, you know? I thought maybe there’d be an old strip mall or something. Even a survie compound. So I walk and I walk, all morning, and finally I come to this old convenience store. Like an SA. It looks pretty beat-up, even burned a little, but it’s still standing, you know? So I go over to the place, wary-like, and look around, and there’s obviously still some stuff left in there. Food packages, cans, bottles… well, y’all know what that’s like, when you find somethin’ like that, you gotta go for it. Not like there’s a lotta that kinda stuff left, you know?”

  “Yes, of course,” nodded Justin. “Go on.”

  “OK, so I go on in there, right? Real careful, takin’ my time. And it looks OK. No one around, nothin’ stirrin’, place don’t look like it’s gonna fall down or nothin’, and I go over to this rack, where there’s some chips, you know, and then Wham! All of a sudden, this big fuckin’ hole opens up, right under my feet, and I fall, like, shit I dunno, twenny feet or so. Just whoosh! And all of a sudden I’m layin’ at the bottom of a hole!”

  “Are you alright?” asked Erin solicitously. “Were you hurt?”

  “Naw, I’m OK,” waved Bowler. “Couple scrapes. But here’s the weird part: it wasn’t just a hole. It was more like a shaft, you know? Like a tunnel. Course, it was dark, so I couldn’t see too far, but it had to go on for quite a ways.”

  “A tunnel?” Justin shook his head. “Is that so remarkable?”

  “No, wait,” said Bowler, “I ain’t told y’all the really weird part. See, there was the tunnel, OK, but there was also somethin’ down there. Somethin’ alive. I got no idea what, cause I climbed outta there fast as I could, but yeah, it was somethin’ living, you know?”

  “Like what?” asked Justin. “An animal?”

  “I dunno,” said Bowler, face scrunched in concentration. “It was weird, like it was a man, a human, ‘cept that it had extra arms or something.”

  “What?” Erin said incredulously. “What’s that mean? Extra arms?”

>   “Now, take it easy,” said Justin, waving. “Let’s slow down and take this from the beginning.”

  As he questioned Bowler more closely, the Kid slowly, warily made his way out of the shed and sidled up to them. Justin stopped talking then, as the Kid suddenly, eyes wide and fearful, backed away from them. Holding his nose disgustedly, he pointed urgently at Bowler, grimaced, made some grunting noises, and shook his furry head.

  “Now what?” said Erin.

  “Yeah, what’s his problem?” asked Bowler, looking down at himself.

  “He smells something,” said Justin. “Something he obviously doesn’t like.”

  “Yeah, well,” said Bowler hotly, “he ain’t one to talk, now is he?! Fuck, just look at him! He reeks! Crazy little bastard.”

  “No, not that,” said Justin. “I mean that you must have picked up the scent of this tunnel of yours. And our little friend here isn’t too fond of it.”

  “Oh, I getcha…” said Bowler. He plucked at his tattered flannel shirt and sniffed it. “But I don’t smell anything, do you?”

  “Well, no,” said Justin. “But obviously he does. At any rate, I think maybe we should just avoid this whole thing. Chances are, it was just an animal you saw and I see no need to go poking around in some decrepit old tunnel, so let’s just give it a wide berth.”

  “Fine with me,” shrugged Bowler. “Just thought it was weird was all.”

  “Yes, well,” said Justin, “there are a great many weird things to be found nowadays, aren’t there?”

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  He’s a zombie and he’s a pizza delivery boy! And his boss is always mad; will he ever get it right? And he’s gay! Don’t miss the new season of That’s My Zombie, on UZS network, Thursday nights at 8:00, 7:00 central!

  —ad for TV show, 2057

  They had been back on the road for only about an hour when the car’s rad detector began to twitch. At first the Hunter wasn’t concerned; he’d gotten used to low levels of stray radiation. But then, when the thing jumped to its midpoint, indicating a pretty hefty dose, he knew that what he’d feared had mostly likely come to pass: Wolf Creek One had burst its containment. He slowed the car to a crawl, hoping the detector would calm down, but instead it notched up, first a tick and then another, and he slammed on the brakes and brought the car to a halt. For a moment, he waited and watched for any change.