The First 30 Days: A Zombie Novel

by Lora Powell

  I could see the desperation on their faces as the zombie inched closer to taking a bite out of Maya. Just when I thought that it was too late, Bill reached them, and charged straight into the zombie, ripping it away from the women tumbling into the grass.

  I bounded the last few steps to where Shawn had disappeared, heart beating like it wanted to escape from my chest. I couldn't have found family, for the first time in my life, only to have that family taken away so soon. I refused to believe that fate could be so cruel.

  Just as I spotted the familiar color of his shirt, Shawn staggered to his feet, breathing harsh. A smear of blood coated his cheek and more of it was on his hands. And the knife he held.

  The zombie lay unmoving in the grass.

  "Are you ok?"

  He saw me running toward him and a panicked look crossed his face. "What are you doing! Get to the van!" He swung around, checking for any more zombies.

  Maya was helping her husband get to his feet, Carrie looking wildly around, and the zombies were dead. The five of us bolted for the van, where Fallon and Devon were standing, looking unsure if they should try to help or not.

  "Get in the van!" Bill's yelled order made up their minds, and the two scrambled to climb into the back seat.

  The run away from the van had seemed like it lasted an eternity. Going back toward it's safety wasn't any better. I kept waiting for more screams and sounds of pursuit to come from behind us. But, thankfully, they never came. Reaching the vehicle as one group, we piled inside and slammed the doors closed.

  I was still clutching the machete. Rex almost cut himself on the blade in his exuberance at greeting me. I tucked it away and buried my hands in his hair in an attempt to stop the trembling that had started.

  "Is anyone bit?" Maya's low question came from the back seat.

  "No."

  "I'm ok."

  Carrie hesitated before answering, "I'm good. It's not a bite." She held up her hand that she had wrapped in her outer shirt. Red was starting to bleed through the material. "Think I'm gonna need stitches though. That knife is sharp."

  "Ok," Bill cleared his throat. "Let's get out of here. Carrie, we'll look for a better place to stop and get your hand taken care of. Hang in there."

  It was a relief when he started the van and left the abandoned camp site behind. Finding a place to stop proved to be harder than expected. We had been traveling a long stretch of highway that was bordered on both sides by endless trees. It was nearly an hour later before we took an off ramp that led to a tiny gas station in the middle of nowhere.

  The front door to the gas station had already been forced open by someone else. The food, drinks, and anything else remotely useful that had been stocked on the shelves was gone. Fortunately, we had enough of those things for now. What we needed was four walls and a roof. The little gas station would work well enough.

  Carrie had started to look a little green by the time I sat her down and began rooting through our medical supplies. I hoped she wasn't squeamish about needles. Having to stitch her hand up was going to test the fortitude of my own stomach. The last thing I needed was her getting sick all over me.

  "Ok, Carrie. Let's take a look." I grabbed for her wrapped hand, but pulled away like it was too hot.

  Because it was.

  THIRTY-SEVEN-DAY 20

  This could not be happening.

  I shouldn't have been able to feel the heat of Carrie's hand through the shirt wrapped around it. That just wasn't normal, and could only mean one thing.

  Carrie was running one very, very high fever.

  Tentatively reaching out, I touched the back of my fingers to the exposed skin of her arm. I needed to be sure.

  She was too hot.

  "Um, Carrie? You feeling ok?"

  She shook her head, "Honestly, no. I think I might be coming down with the flu or something."

  "Ok," I tried to keep my tone light. "Let's take care of your hand and then I'll see if we have anything else that might help in the bag."

  I dug until I found a couple of our remaining latex gloves and put them on. Steadying myself with a big breath, I unwound the shirt, afraid of what I was going to find. Carrie had said that she didn't get bit, but maybe she had been mistaken. I had only ever felt a fever like that once before, and it had been coming from Evie just a few hours before she died.

  I hoped that I was wrong, but to be honest, I was completely expecting a bite or maybe some deep scratches when I finally uncovered her wound.

  The wound was clearly a deep cut made by something very sharp. Like a knife. Moving her hand this way and that, I looked for the feared marks, but they weren't there. Just one long gash to the palm of her hand. Maybe luck was with us and Carrie really was just coming down with a bad case of the Flu. She certainly hadn't had one of the tainted vaccines, and she appeared to not be bitten, so that seemed to rule out zombie infection.

  "I've uh... I've never given anyone stitches before, so..." I trailed off.

  "It's ok. Do what you can," she gave me a tight smile.

  I got busy cleaning the cut. Around us, the rest of our group had done their best to secure the gas station and search it. When Shawn wandered over to where Carrie and I sat, I shot him a meaningful look while Carrie was distracted by something that Bill was saying to Maya. Catching my look, Shawn came closer and hovered over my shoulder to watch. I didn't want to cause panic, not until we knew for sure at least, but I needed to tell someone else about my concerns. If Carrie really was infected, she was going to die, and then she was going to become a very real danger.

  The feeling of the needle and thread pulling through flesh was nauseating. The experience had to be even worse for Carrie. She did her best to hold her hand steady, but she couldn't help the involuntary twitches. By the time I had finished closing the wound, sweat was trickling from her forehead. I couldn't help but wonder if it was a result of my stitching her hand, or the zombie virus. Digging for some pain killers, I handed her a hefty dose.

  "Thanks. We should start calling you Doc," she smiled weakly at me and swallowed the pills.

  "You should rest a while," I did my best to smile at her attempt at humor. Even I could feel that the expression fell flat on my face.

  "I think I will."

  Carrie got up stiffly and wandered over to where the others had piled a few blankets. The gas station didn't exactly offer any sort of comfort, but they had done their best to make a soft spot to rest. I watched her go while Shawn dropped down to sit next to me.

  "What's wrong?"

  I leaned closer to whisper, "I think Carrie might be infected."

  "What!"

  His voice was too loud, and I scowled at him. "She is running a really high fever, and she says she feels like she is coming down with something. I didn't see any bites, but I've only felt a fever like that one time before."

  He stayed quiet, watching Carrie for several seconds. The woman's long hair had fallen to cover her face from view, but even way across the room, we could clearly see the trembling that had started to shake her. Finally, "We have to tell everyone else."

  He was right, and I didn't stop him when he waved for the others to join us.

  "What is it?" Fallon asked.

  When I repeated what I had already told Shawn, everyone focused worried eyes on the woman huddled into the blankets.

  "You're sure it wasn't a bite?" Bill asked me. He looked troubled.

  "I didn't see anything that looked like a bite," I focused on him. "Yeah, I'm sure. Like she said, she cut herself on her knife." As soon as the words left my mouth, I knew what had happened. "Crap."

  "What?"

  I had their undivided attention.

  "Her knife. She used it to stab that zombie right before she cut herself. She would have gotten blood from the zombie into the cut."

  Silence fell as we thought about the implications of what I'd said. It made sense. Fresh, infected blood coming into contact with an open wound would surely spread the infection.
Why hadn't we seen it before?

  "But, that zombie at the camp scratched me, and I practically showered in it's blood. I didn't get sick," Shawn brought up a good point.

  "Wait. You were scratched?" Fallon asked the question that it looked like everyone else was thinking.

  Shawn nodded, "Yeah. If it wasn't for Bri, I'd of gotten bit for sure, too." He pulled his shirt aside to show everyone the mostly healed scratches.

  "We wondered if it was transferred through a scratch or not," Maya glanced at Bill. "I guess we have our answer."

  I thought about the scratches that I had cleaned like a crazy person not so long ago. "You had zombie blood everywhere except those scratches."

  He nodded slowly, "Yeah. I think you are right. I think that shoulder stayed clean, somehow. You also insisted in treating it right away." He didn't add what we all were thinking. Carrie had been cut for a while before we were able to treat her hand.

  "What do we do now?" Devon asked the tough question.

  "If she is infected, there's only one way it will end," Maya's voice cracked on the last word. Bill reached over to rub her back soothingly.

  I had forgotten for a minute that Carrie and the couple had been friends before all of this went down. It wouldn't be easy for any of us to watch our friend die, but for them, it would be worse.

  Bill spoke up. "We don't have to make any decisions right now. Let's let her rest for a while and see. Maybe she won't get any worse."

  THIRTY-EIGHT-DAY 21

  The moon had tracked it's way past the halfway point in the sky. Leaning against each other, Shawn and I had watched it's progress through the big windows at the front of the gas station. Neither of us had been able to sleep. Instead, we sat on the tile floor and waited to find out if we were going to lose a friend today.

  Rex lay with his head propped on my knee. Absentmindedly running my fingers through the dog's fur, I turned to look at Carrie, still asleep across the room.

  Not for the first time that night, I felt guilt gnaw at me. I wished fervently that I could take back being mad at Carrie for the past couple of days. When I stitched up her hand earlier, that had been the first time I'd said more than two words to her since my own close call with a zombie. Now, it felt petty of me to have been so upset with her for something so simple.

  Carrie was the only one sleeping. The rest of us had been keeping a grim vigil, hoping for a miracle. But as the hours wore on, it became more and more apparent that our fears were coming true.

  Carrie was infected.

  She had shivered her way through most of the night, despite the warm temperature. Her hair stuck to her clammy skin, skin that had taken on an unhealthy color that could be seen even in the dim light. Now, her breathing had become labored and she tossed restlessly upon the pile of blankets.

  Fallon and Devon also sat together, not far from where Shawn and I were. And Maya had been pacing the length of the room while Bill leaned against the door jam and watched outside. But all of us had spent most of the night tracking Carrie's illness with increasingly grim expressions.

  When Maya looked at Carrie one last time, and walked resolutely toward her husband, I knew something was about to happen. Nudging Shawn, I jumped to my feet and went to join them by the door. In a matter of seconds, we had all gathered.

  "She's infected," Maya's voice sounded hollow.

  I felt myself nodding in agreement.

  "I don't know what is the right thing to do."

  We stared at each other. No one knew the answer. How could we have prepared to have to make such a decision?

  Rustling fabric and a raspy voice put us out of our misery.

  "I know I'm sick." Struggling to prop herself upright on shaky arms, Carrie let us know that she had woken up.

  "Carrie, don't wear yourself out." Maya hurried to help her friend.

  Carrie waved her away weakly. "Don't touch me. You shouldn't touch me." She finally managed to get herself upright.

  "How are you feeling?" I edged closer to her.

  "Like someone shattered every bone in my body." She grimaced at me. "I know I'm infected. I saw it happen to someone back at the start, I know the signs."

  Abruptly, she started coughing violently. Hunched over, she rode out the wracking coughs while we watched helplessly from just feet away. When the fit finally ended, she sat back up even more slowly than the first time.

  Blood covered her lips and chin. More of it formed a puddle on the blankets. Maya whimpered and grabbed Bill's hand.

  Wheezing, Carrie looked at her friends, "I need to borrow your gun. Just for a few minutes."

  * * *

  In the end, Carrie won the argument between herself and Maya. She was going to die, and soon. She insisted on doing it on her own terms.

  While I didn't blame her, I'd watched Evie die from the virus and it was brutal, I couldn't stay and watch. I'd said my goodbyes and let myself and Rex out of the building.

  The stretch of highway that we had been traveling was desolate. There were very few people around the area before the outbreak, and we hadn't seen a single zombie since stopping there the day before. I felt comfortable enough going outside with just Rex and my machete for protection. I didn't plan to go far, and I was feeling the need for a few minutes alone.

  A hint of the sunrise was just starting to show over the horizon when the single gunshot rang out. Kneeling down, I wrapped my arms around the dog and held on. Patient as could be, the dog sat and let me grieve on his shoulder for a long time.

  The tears had finally dried up when another shot tore through the morning air.

  I jumped to my feet and whirled to face back the way I had come. I had walked farther than I'd originally intended and was surprised to find that I couldn't see the gas station any more. A bunch of trees blocked my view.

  There shouldn't have been a second shot. If everything had gone to plan, the only shot needed would have been the first one.

  I started running back toward my friends.

  Rex stayed by my side as I sprinted. Some instinct that I couldn't explain caused me to stop just before I rounded the trees that would bring the building back into view. Warning bells screamed in my head and an uncomfortable feeling settled in the pit of my stomach. Ducking behind a wide tree, I peered out at the gas station.

  A black pick-up was pulling into the parking lot. As I watched, a burly man climbed from the driver's seat and walked back to open the tailgate.

  The front door of the building stood open, something that no one in my group would have done. Open doors made it too easy for a zombie to get inside. The wrongness of that open door confirmed that something had gone terribly awry while I walked alone.

  Rex began to growl and I shushed him. We were still far enough away from the stranger that I doubted he could hear, but I didn't want to take that chance. "Stay," I hoped the dog would listen.

  Movement in the doorway proved to be another strange man. Flaming orange hair and beard concealed most of his features. What I noticed most about the man, however, was the rifle he held in front of him.

  The bearded man walked to the back of the truck. He and the other stranger laughed together over something bearded guy said, but I couldn't make out the words.

  Then my friends started to leave the building.

  My hand went to my face in horror. Bill came outside first. His hands had been tied behind him, and blood flowed steadily from a wound to his shoulder. The rest filed out behind Bill, all with tied hands. Fallon was crying. Behind them, two more men walked out with their own guns trained on my friends.

  The strangers herded my group to the back of the pick-up and unceremoniously into the bed. One of the men shoved Shawn down in the truck and delivered a nasty kick to his side. The men all laughed again, before two of them settled into the truck bed with guns ready.

  Part of me wanted to run from my hiding place and try to do something. But even in my panic, I knew that that was a terrible idea. I stood no chance against the fou
r men, at least three of whom were armed with guns, all by myself. My group was in no shape to help me help them.

  So I held my ground behind the tree and watched as the driver climbed back behind the wheel of the truck. Bearded guy walked to our van and got inside. The two vehicles turned away from the highway and drove deeper into the mountains around us.

  I waited for several long minutes before cautiously coming out from behind the tree. The open ground between myself and the building felt dangerous, like someone was out there still, waiting for me to reveal myself. I rushed for the cover of the building, but stopped dead just inside the door.

  In all of the chaos, I had neglected to realize that Carrie's body would still be inside. Someone had draped one of our blankets over her. Blood soaked through the material over her head. I shuddered and turned away. Carrie's troubles were over, but the rest of my group still needed me.

  Our few belongings that we had brought inside with us were scattered around the room. Someone had ransacked the bags and taken what they wanted. A small pool of blood on the floor had been smeared by booted feet. One of the shelves that had stood in the middle of the room was knocked over. There had been an obvious struggle.

  When I found my backpack with the zombie bitten strap, I picked it up and began filling it back up with anything left that might be useful. If I was going to track down my people, I was going to need supplies.

  With a last look around the gas station, I went outside and hurried across the parking lot. The truck carrying my group, including Shawn, had gone right, so that was the way I was going, too.

  I had seen his eyes scanning the area as the pick-up drove away, looking for any sign of me. If it was the last thing I did, I was going to get my family back.

  THIRTY-NINE-DAY 21

  The zombie ambled out from behind the thorn bushes and onto the dusty, dirt road. It hadn't seen me yet, and I froze in my tracks, hoping that it would keep on going.

  Luck was not on my side, as Rex let out a ferocious snarl that turned the zombie our way. It was too late to hush the dog, so I focused instead on not getting eaten.