“I’ve got such a bad feeling about this,” Idle whined.
“Fuck a feeling,” Billy whined. “This is just bad.”
Joanjet walked to the center of the room. Rusty water stains led from all four walls to a metal drain. Next to an enormous boiler, two hunters were tied to chairs, still in their camouflage and orange reflective vests, hands bound tightly.
They were going crazy, howling through slavers of drool.
“You took hostages?” Idle asked.
Billy giggled nervously. “Wow. That is majorly badass.”
A third hunter, lying on the floor dead and half-eaten, was chained by the ankle to a thick iron standpipe.
As Nero stepped into the oval of candlelight, the hunters struggled against their ropes. One was chubby, with a mustache and a greasy forehead. He looked like someone’s uncle. Like a guy who ran a hardware store that had a bowl of lollipops by the register. The other was tall and thin, with a once-kind face that could not be entirely obscured by his infected features. It was almost hard to believe that either one truly wanted to do violence. Until you looked in their eyes and saw how badly, mortally, and marrow-deeply they wanted to do violence.
“They were already in the lodge when we got here,” Joanjet said as reflections from the candle bounced off the walls, into the corners, retreating, then reaching out again. The hunters’ bloody mouths opened and shut in tandem, trying to chew their way from dark to light.
“There’s something deeply wrong about this,” Nero said. “Even for this.”
“Tying them up was easier than dragging them upstairs and throwing them out,” Lush said. “These two were so busy eating the third one, they barely noticed us. Until it was too late.”
The hunters strained forward as if they wanted to argue the point, get some testimony into evidence. It was unsettling to see them up close. Not running. Not fighting. Just watching.
As they battled their demons.
Or were their demons.
“Freaking Z, man,” Idle whined, looking back toward the staircase, which none of them could see any longer.
“How could you just leave them?” Estrada asked.
Joanjet took Cupcake’s hand and crossed herself with the candle. “I don’t know, it sounds stupid now.”
“What?”
“I guess I thought they would come in handy?”
“As sex slaves?”
“Bring in the Gimp, and shit?”
“No, morons, to get an idea of what’s going on. What they have.”
“Oh, like find a microscope and discover up a cure?”
“Splice some genes with your jelly knife?”
“That was before we figured it out,” Cupcake said.
“Figured what out?”
“They’re not zombies,” Lush said. “The chicken was bad. What they are is food poisoned.”
Now is not the time to smugly bring up your vegetarianism. Trust me.
“Why do you say that?” Estrada asked.
Joanjet switched the candle to her other hand. “It’s the one thing that connects them all. Fresh Bukket is the last place to buy food for fifty miles. Everyone stops there. Including the IT vans. Our counselors bought some. So did yours.” She pointed to the hunters. “And there were wrappers up here with these guys. Plus an empty sixty-piece bucket.”
“Sure, that’s a coincidence,” Nero said. “But almost anything could have set them off.”
Raekwon shook her head. “Our counselor Velma was in love with two of the girls. Always letting them skip chores, carry lighter packs. Last night most of us got MREs for bitching the whole way up the trail, but Velma’s favorites got to have the Chixx Nuggets. When we woke up, guess which two were already infected?”
“Boblegum and Eeyore,” Sad Girl said sadly. “They ate chicken last night; they were eating Exene this morning.”
Nero’s stomach tightened. “At the campground . . . those kids —”
“What campground?” Cupcake asked. “What kids?”
“They had food,” Estrada said. “In a bear sling. There was Fresh Bukket in there. I saw it.”
Fresh Bukket chicken is Rebozzo chicken.
Rebozzo chicken was Nick Sole chicken.
Convict chicken.
Four thousand pounds of poison.
“What about Swann?” War Pig asked. “She went to bed hungry, just like the rest of us.”
“Swann ate Bruce Leroy’s leftovers,” Nero said, the entire weight of it dropping on him like a thirteenth-story piano. “I saw her picking through the garbage in the middle of the night.”
Nick Sole, Ground Zero.
Outbreak monkey.
Plague Boy.
ZOMBRULE #13: Chicken doesn’t kill people. People kill people.
“Anyway,” Raekwon said. “Now that we done getting all CSI? It don’t change much. We’re still in here. Still surrounded.”
Sad Girl put her arms around Estrada and laid her face against his chest. He stroked her hair as if he’d been doing it for years.
“Don’t get too cozy,” Joanjet said, biting her lip. “There’s one more thing.”
“There’s always one more thing,” Idle said. “You said one more thing last time there was one more thing.”
“Fuck a more thing,” Billy said, spitting on one of the hunters, who extended and contorted his black tongue, trying to lick it up. “I want out of this hole. Now.”
“What is it?” Nero asked, dying to race Billy to the steps, slam the door shut, and nail it closed.
Dying to have spent the last hour almost anywhere else.
Even outside.
Amid the throng of hands and teeth.
Where at least there was fresh air.
And everyone knew exactly what they were.
But he wanted to know what the “one more thing” was even more.
Joanjet held up the candle and then led them around the cast-iron boiler.
Behind it was a single folding chair.
In the folding chair sat a person.
Tied up.
A girl.
“The other thing is her,” Joanjet said.
Oh, no, you didn’t!
The girl raised her head.
“What the fuck?” Nero said.
It was Petal.
PETAL WAS TIED TO THE CHAIR, HEAD DOWN.
Nero choked back something that wasn’t a sob.
It was relief; it was thanks; it was a debt owed that could never be repaid, a God to be acknowledged, a psalm to be learned — or just an appreciation of sheer luck, a few numbers that had finally come in, dice that had rolled snake eyes for so long finally adding up in his favor.
It had all been worth it. The carnage, the run through the forest, up the mountain, not giving in, knowing that somehow — eventually — he’d see her again.
That she would be safe.
That he’d made the right decision, instead of heading back to the vans.
Petal. Alive.
She looked up at Nero, eyes deeply set, a shock of white hair hanging over one side of her face. She bit at the rag tied around her mouth and made low straining noises.
He leaned forward to release her.
“Don’t,” Raekwon said, raising the musket.
“Don’t what?”
“Step on back, hero.”
Nero didn’t move.
“Do it,” Joanjet said.
“But why?”
“Because she’s infected, fool!”
He felt a rush from ankle to toe, from atrium to ventricle, an infusion of pure, uncut guilt, revulsion coursing through every last bend and valve and fatty stoppage.
You idiot!
Petal was slightly gray but seemed normal otherwise. No smell. No noises. Nothing coming out of her ears. Her eyes were clear. Enormous. Still beautiful.
Nero the leader ceased to exist. Nick the chicken schlub was back in force.
Confess!
He opened his mouth but could not brin
g himself to tell them. That he knew Petal. Not biblically, but mortally and morally. That he was the reason she was here. That he’d followed her all the way up the mountain. That way back in pre-van civilization he’d stuck a knife deep into himself and maybe started it all.
That you love her.
Nero’s voice was a raw croak. “So why isn’t she acting like them?”
“We don’t know why.”
“So you just left her down here?”
“To rot? Pretty much, yeah. That’s how this works, right?”
Nero was about to answer when there was a loud bang.
Cupcake screamed.
Billy screamed.
Joanjet swung the candle toward the hunters, whose orange faces flashed in and out of the darkness as they hissed and growled and chomped their teeth. The closest one had managed to rock his chair over and was pulling himself toward War Pig.
With his lips.
“Lip power?” Idle said.
“That is so epically messed up,” Billy said.
Raekwon stepped forward. “It’s time to remove the contagion.”
“No,” Nero said. “If all they did was eat bad food, it’s not their fault.”
ZOMBRULE #14: Be wary of Ztockholm syndrome. The pre-eaten have been known to sympathize, fall in love with, and even sacrifice themselves to their idealized undead tormentors. It’s particularly common among sweatpant housewives, redheaded orphans, fans of vampire lore, teenage boys obsessed with Linux, teenage girls with paint-by-numbers horses on their bedroom walls, and those hopelessly trapped in remote hunting lodges.
War Pig raised his boot and brought it down as hard as he could on the hunter’s temple.
Once. Twice. Three times.
Bruised melon. Cracked melon. Fruit salad.
“Gross.” Lush said.
“What the hell are you doing?” Joanjet asked.
“Why pretend to be reasonable?” War Pig said. “There’s no reason. There’s no able.”
“The first rule of the Zomb-A-Pocalypse is that taking prisoners is stupid,” Billy said.
Actually, that’s not the first rule of the Zomb-A-Pocalypse.
“Please stop,” Nero said.
Raekwon walked over and crushed the skull of the other hunter with the butt of Pacino. The chair fell apart. He bent back awkwardly and cracked.
Cracked?
Yellow liquid leaked from his nose and mouth as he folded in the wrong direction, like an old sofa. The tip of his spinal column peeked out above his pants, wagged like a dog’s tail, and then stopped moving.
“That is so, so far beyond what I can process,” Lush said.
Idle and Billy clapped, giving Raekwon an ovation.
“Chick getting all Foxy Brown.”
“Cornrow Lara Croft. Except with better legs.”
Raekwon turned and scowled, her voice low and steely. “You can’t keep Z around like house pets. Leaving Petal down here ready to turn was bullshit. Like dangling James Bond over a shark tank and running away instead of just shooting his dumb ass. Sooner or later she gonna escape, and I’m not getting eaten over that kind of foolishness.”
“You mean we should kill her?” Nero said with disbelief.
“Of course not.”
“Thank God.”
“You can’t kill what’s dead,” Raekwon said, holding up the gun. “I mean to help homegirl more fully transition into what she already is.”
“No,” Estrada said.
“You can’t,” Cupcake said.
Nero walked over and stood in front of Petal, his back to her face.
“She gonna bite you, fool!”
“She’s not biting anyone.”
“You sure about that?”
Yeah, are you?
The candle wavered.
The tiny flame popped and hissed.
Blood and stink and rage welled up from the floor.
There was a long, ugly silence.
“The main thing,” Petal finally said, “is that everyone needs to just calm the fuck down.”
Bam!
Joanjet swung around, putting Petal in the center of the glow.
“She can talk?” War Pig said.
“Of course I can talk.”
Girlfriend’s the missing link! Homo zerectus! Found in the zombie caves of Chauvet!
“Then why didn’t you say anything before?” Estrada asked.
Petal spit out the rest of the gag, her lips red and tortured and utterly pouty. “Um, I guess because someone shoved this strip of towel in my mouth?”
“Wait, so she’s not infected?” Billy said.
“Okay, now I’m officially confused,” Idle said.
“She is.” Sad Girl said. “I mean, at least we all saw her get bitten.”
Lush leaned over and raised Petal’s jumpsuit leg. Caked blood surrounded a raw-looking bite mark on her shin, a dozen teeth clearly outlined, practically down to the bone.
J’accuse, mothersucker!
“Okay, she’s on a delay,” Raekwon said. “Time release. Whatever. She’s gonna be Z soon, so let’s get this over with.”
“I don’t want to eat you,” Petal said. “I totally promise.”
“An undead promise is as good as the meatsac it’s bitten on.”
“Word.”
“But what if she’s, like, immune or something?” Nero said.
“Yeah, and what if she gets a sudden rush of Zach and chows your spleen off?”
“Does she look like she’s about to attack anyone?”
“I say we put her down,” War Pig said. “Right now.”
Nick was officially canceled. Nick was gone. Nick never existed.
“No one is hurting her,” Nero said. “Period.”
You sure he’s not right? Like, maybe you should hurt her? Even a little? Just to see?
“It’s three against two.”
“This isn’t up for a vote.”
War Pig stepped closer. “No?”
Nero kept his eyes flat and steady. “No.”
“Who’s the two and who’s the three?” Lush said. “There’s ten of us.”
“And why are the boys suddenly in charge?” Sad Girl asked. “This is our lodge, remember?”
War Pig made a muscle and then kissed his biceps. “These put me in charge.”
“God,” Cupcake said, “that is such . . . such . . .”
“When did you guys become cops, eh?” Estrada asked. “Digging the power rush? Being storm troopers and shit. Killing.”
“They’re already dead, moron.”
Idle and Billy laughed and stood next to War Pig, who put his other arm around Raekwon. “And this fine young lady with a musket confirms it. You got a problem with that?”
Nero nodded. “Yeah, I do.”
Estrada walked over and stood next to Nero. So did Joanjet, Sad Girl, and Cupcake.
“Taking sides is stupid,” Lush said, standing between the two groups. “We have to stick together.”
“It’s not us against us. It’s us against them,” Sad Girl said. “Remember? Outside?”
“There’s one of them inside, though. See the difference?”
“I’m not one of them,” Petal said. “I’m me. I’m still totally me.”
“War Pig,” Nero whispered.
“What?”
“Don’t freaking move.”
War Pig squeezed his fists together, flexing from waist to neck. “Why the hell not?”
“Because the third hunter is off the chain. He’s right behind you.”
“Yeah, right.”
Joanjet swung the candle back around. The hunter, with a bloody foot left behind from where he’d bitten through his ankle, leaped. War Pig jerked to the side. The hunter landed on Lush’s shoulder and bit deeply. He tore a roll of flesh away, swallowed it, and then dug in again.
Lush’s screams rebounded off the walls, echoed, multiplied. Joanjet grabbed the hunter by the jacket and flung him off. The candelabra clattered to
the cement. The room went black, except for a tiny flame that sputtered as the candle rolled across the floor. Everything moved in slow yellow strobe, like an eyelid being opened and closed.
Blink.
Cupcake screamed.
Blink.
The hunter got up again.
Blink.
And rushed at Idle.
Blink.
Who landed a spinning kick.
Blink.
The hunter lurched to the side, teeth wide with flesh.
Blink.
Raekwon shoved Pacino deep into his mouth.
Blink.
And pulled the trigger.
Muzzle flash, red aura, singed hair.
You cannot blink long enough.
A bucket of pink and black milk splashed against the far wall.
“Wicked,” Idle said.
“Mad bull’s-eye,” Billy said.
“I guess that thing works after all,” War Pig said.
Nero picked up the candle, put Lush’s arm around his shoulder, and helped her up the stairs. The rest packed behind him, trying to stay in the envelope of light. He looked back, just able to make out Petal’s face in the chair, and mouthed the words I’m sorry.
When everyone was at the top of the steps, War Pig kicked the door shut. “It stays down there. Period.”
“It?” Estrada said.
“She!” Sad Girl said.
“Chick rubs the lotion on its skin,” Idle said. “And then puts it in the basket.”
War Pig dragged over an enormous hutch, straining against the ballast, and jammed it at an angle against the knob. “Anyone even thinks about opening this door goes outside. Got it?”
No one answered.
Nero carefully laid Lush on the floor next to the fireplace. She was breathing shallowly, already convulsing.
“No more, no more, no more,” Cupcake kept saying. “Please please please please.”
“We need, like, antibiotics,” Sad Girl said.
“Hold her down,” Joanjet said.
“Believe it or not,” Idle said, “I’ve lost girlfriends before.”
“Women,” Billy said. “They come and they go.”
“Mostly go, though, huh?”
“Shoot her,” War Pig said.
Raekwon palmed the remaining ammo.“There’s only two of these shells left.”
Nero leaned over and examined Lush’s wound.
The Infects Page 14