Blood Soaked and Contagious

by James Crawford

  A short while later, they emerged from the kitchen bearing coffee mugs, cream, and a tray of yogurt and granola-filled bowls. Charlie was biting her lower lip, I guessed as a way to keep from laughing. Jaya simply looked perplexed.

  “Now, we will eat and have your barbarian coffee, and afterward we will discuss these new developments.” Jaya’s tone of voice was very much not to be trifled with. “Discussions fraught with intense subjects and decisions should never be approached on an empty stomach.”

  I asked, “Is that part of the Vedic tradition?”

  “No. That is from the tradition of Jayashri and Bajali’s home. The Vedas would suggest I use the yogurt and give you a high colonic. Would you prefer that with or without the granola?”

  “The barbarian will now shut up and drink his foul steaming beverage.”

  “See?” She tugged on Charlie’s sleeve. “There may yet be hope for him.”

  Breakfast passed quietly, the humor and lightheartedness slowly gave way to the heavier concerns we were facing. We had not even spoken to Jaya about the morning visitor and his report on what we should expect in three or four days. For my own part, I couldn’t decide which news was more life threatening or dire. One way or another, I knew I would stand beside these people and do my best to defend them, even if I had to leave to prevent spreading my version of the virus in the community.

  It was bad enough that I could have passed it to Charlie already. Probably had passed it, if I was actually hosting some mutant strain of the zombie-maker. That led me straight down the path of wondering who else I might have given it to, over time.

  “The silence is very pregnant at this table. Don’t you think so?” I said as I looked up to find both of the women looking at me with various levels of intensity.

  “Yeah, I’d agree with that,” Charlie piped in.

  “I’m not sure where to start,” so I took another sip of coffee and a spoonful of yogurt.

  “I will start. I had an interesting morning, much like the two of you did, I expect.”

  Charlie and I fixed our attention on her with the speed of a switch being flipped.

  “There was a knock on the front door a little before sunrise,” Jayashri continued, “and I expected it would be one of you or some sort of emergency with someone in the community. I can see you know who my visitor was.” She smiled. “Bajali is well and being treated with respect, although he is under guard at all times. Mister Yan also explained that we would be attacked in a few days, and that he was specifically told to visit you as well. From the looks on your faces, I see that he did.”

  “Yes. He told us the same things he told you, and I think he deliberately found one of the IEDs on the way out.” I really hated to say that, but it was probably true. Mister Yan was too honest and good a person to be swayed by the temptation of a second life at the expense of consuming the innocent.

  “He asked me for advice on how to end his life after he shared all of the information he was sent to give us.” Jayashri looked like I felt: hollow. “I gave him the location of the smallest IED between the store and the road. He wanted to limit the amount of damage he caused but also assure there would be no way for his spirit to return to the body.”

  Charlie just shook her head. “That poor man.”

  “No, I do not see him as someone to be pitied. He was strong, full of love, loyal, and could not bear the burden of life at the cost of other human lives. His choice was both the act of a noble man and a dear friend. When the end of this life comes to me, I pray I will make such a good end.”

  Jayashri’s words seemed to echo in my head. I knew they touched me, because I felt the swell of emotions that rose up within me. No one had ever spoken, out loud, something I believed in so deeply and held so tightly in my heart.

  That sort of love and nobility was something I had been searching for my entire life. I never saw it in my parents or siblings. I tried to travel the world to find it, as if it would be lurking in a flea market in Beijing, stuffed behind the red plastic dragons and counterfeit shoes. Sitting in the dining room, over coffee and breakfast, my friend showed me the most moving truth I have ever known.

  The thing I sought all my life was already within me. All I had to do was act in accordance with what I hold dear.

  I may have been looking at her through a veil of my own almost-shed tears, but Jayashri glowed as she sat there with an expression of ageless resolve and peace on her face.

  Even Charlie, whom we barely knew, seemed like she was transfixed in the chair, feeling or seeing something she was unable to look away from. I hoped it was something she needed. Having known her for less than a day, but after learning some of her story and having held her when she needed support, I knew at least some of it was speaking to her.

  “Zombies don’t want to eat you, and you heal faster.” Jaya was thinking out loud. “Frank, is there anything else you can do that’s out of the ordinary?”

  “I don’t know. I didn’t even notice the healing thing, much less anything else.”

  “That does make sense, from what we know about the primary virus,” Jaya added. “The initial symptoms are similar to a 24-hour flu. The initial symptoms go away quickly, but then you are immediately set upon by zombies and killed. That is the trigger for the virus to go into overdrive and repair the host. Once the victim returns to life, they are more optimized for predatory behavior. Claws. Much faster reflexes. Greater than normal physical strength.”

  “Are you suggesting I might notice things because I nearly died?”

  “That is a possibility, if there is some variety of infection present. One of the areas where there is almost no data is the impact of living with the virus for any extended period of time. The longest recorded span of time between infection and violent death I was able to find research data for was six months.”

  She told us it was a topic she’d been curious about from the beginning and had been actively researching since Bajali had stabilized the internet connection. From what she’d been able to discover, the six-month survivor was quite unique. Apparently, he had contracted the virus in Alice Springs on a supply run, and then he had returned to his home in the Outback, some 9-hour drive away. Very limited human contact.

  Six months later, he returned to Alice Springs for supplies. Within ten minutes of his arrival, he was attacked and killed by no fewer than five recently revived zombies. He revived in four days and was shot by police in a local casino after attacking one of the card dealers.

  “How long have you been killing zombies?” Charlie asked me.

  “Maybe a few weeks shy of two years.”

  “Is it possible you’ve either been really lucky, or that you’ve just managed to kill all of the zombies who wanted to eat you?”

  That was an excellent question, and I wasn’t entirely sure how to answer it. I couldn’t remember any situation in which I’d actually been attacked. For the most part, I just seemed to be around when something awful was happening, and I dealt with it.

  “I’ve killed them, yes, but I’ve never had any come after me as though I looked like a tasty snack.”

  Charlie looked puzzled. “Well, that kicks our theory in the face.”

  “I think, for the moment, we should observe you and record any data as we go.” Jaya made a lot of sense, which was not at all surprising. “Charlotte, if you develop anything symptomatic of an infection, please tell me right away.”

  “Absolutely.”

  Jaya stood up, picked up the dishes, and told us, “We need to concentrate on the other major issue at hand: they’re coming for us.” Then she turned around and floated across the floor into the kitchen. Her voice drifted back into the dining room. “A certain barbarian could help the gentle housewife with the dishes and it would be appreciated!”

  Charlie pointed at me, made the classic “shame on you” gesture, and stuck her tongue out at me. I received the intended message, grunted, and did a credible Caveman shamble into the kitchen. My performance rat
ed a dainty round of applause from both of them.

  My hostess smiled and suggested, “If we ever decide to do community theatre, I should hope you would audition for the ‘Hunchback of Notre-Dame.’ I think you would do a marvelous job in that role!”

  “Rrrr! The Bells! The Bells! Where do you keep your scrubby pads for washing the dishes?”

  Chapter 20

  It never ceases to amaze me how much simple joy you can have when you’re in the midst of fighting for your life or are about to embark on doing precisely that. Jayashri and I flicked water at one another, laughing like children. Not to be undone, she increased the stakes by upgrading her offensive weapon: a tea towel.

  It was damp from drying coffee cups and yogurt bowls, and when she snapped it in my direction it packed a surprising amount of sting. I sucked air through clenched teeth when she tagged my nipple through my t-shirt. Something like that would have woken me up better than any coffee product in the world, but I wasn’t willing to get cross-addicted to something that stung like that.

  “Oh! Ho ho ho! I have brought the Mighty Hunchback to his knees!” She did a very dainty Bollywood touchdown dance in the middle of the kitchen. Charlie dissolved into moist-eyed laughter in the kitchen doorway. I even smirked while I tried to rub out the sting.

  I turned to both of them, and the skin on my back developed a nasty prickling sensation that reached down to the curve of my butt. I wanted to grab a spatula, serving fork, or an angry cat and try to make the prickly itching stop. Instead, I danced around a little bit and tried to bend my arms backwards.

  “What’s happening?”

  “Jaya... my back itches like crazy! Nasty prickles! EEEE!”

  “Wait, wait. Stop moving, and let me see.” She came over and pulled my shirt up while I tried very hard to hold myself still. After a moment or two, I heard, “Oh my gracious.”

  “Great! What now?” ITCH!

  “Frank, your body is rejecting the sutures.” Her hand came around and there was a perfect, knotted loop of black nylon thread resting on her fingertip.

  “AH! Maybe you could help it reject them a little faster? This is driving me crazy!”

  “Charlotte, go upstairs into the first room on your left. Beside the large crash bag, there is a smaller first aid pouch. Please bring me that and a box of latex gloves from the stack near the bag. Would you please?”

  Charlie must have nodded or something, because the next thing I heard were swift footfalls on the stairs. Moments later, she was back, box and bag in hand. I was standing in place, vibrating with the need to scratch my back.

  “No time for modesty, Frank. Drop your pants.”

  Jaya didn’t have to tell me twice. I unbuttoned the jeans and let them fall to the tile. The underside of my left buttock felt like I was being attacked by fleas wearing little spiked booties. It was all I could do to lean against the sink and hold myself still.

  I heard her put on gloves and thanked my lucky stars that relief was in sight. There were periodic tugs and the sound of scissors clicking, and small areas stopped itching. Other areas stopped itching as well, but I knew they were nowhere near where Jayashri was pruning me.

  Great. Another interesting development. I silently asked God to stop giving me “interesting” things. Of course, there was no overt reply, just more itching.

  “Holy shit! What’s that?” Something caught Charlie’s attention.

  “I don’t know!” Jaya responded.

  There was a sharp squeezing pain, a sense of relief, and something hit the tile floor with some force. I heard someone gasp and a muffled, “Eeew!”

  “What happened back there?” I was a little panicked, because I didn’t know what my body was going to do next.

  “I think you may have done something else... unprecedented,” Jaya answered. “A shard of metal was forced to the surface of your skin where it was... ejected. It is on the floor by Charlotte’s foot. Could I get you to put on a pair of gloves and pick it up?” The last part was clearly not directed at me.

  Once again, I heard the sound of rubber gloves.

  “Oh. Oh. This is just so weird. Ick!”

  “What?” I would have to apologize for the exasperation in my voice later on.

  “Frank, it’s still warm. Jaya? What do you want me to do with it, ‘cause I really want to put it down?”

  “Get a sterile gauze pad, open the package, and slide it into the package. Don’t let it get more contaminated.”

  Shortly after that burst of excitement, I stopped itching completely. I knew the majority of the tiny nylon loops littering the kitchen floor were not there because they had been snipped out. Too many of them were intact, and there were many more of them than I’d even wanted to imagine. I was very grateful I never looked in a mirror.

  I looked over my shoulder, saw that the ladies were consumed by the piece of shrapnel that had popped out of my ass, and took the opportunity to pull up my pants. Killing the undead was one thing, but exhibitionism was never part of my psychological bag of tricks. Of course, if the opportunity was right and the mood much lighter, I might have wiggled the booty upon request.

  At that point in time, after making my debut as a medical miracle and looking down the barrel of a full-on assault from the tribe of revivified maniacs across town, booty maneuvers would have been gauche. Running around, screaming, and generally being unhelpful wouldn’t have gone over much better, truth be told.

  I broke the silence, “Well! I wonder what other things I’ll shoot from random body parts!”

  The audience of two stared back at me with flat expressions, not even quirking their lips in an expression of displeasure. I noted quickly that humor was not on the menu and that moving onto more serious topics was probably the safest way to go.

  “All right. The mystery of me expelling things from my body can wait a while. We need to clean up the kitchen, and then drag everyone together for a meeting. Organize one for later, at the very least. Agreed?”

  They nodded. I nodded back, and we started picking up the kitchen without a single word. Jaya appeared to be lost in thought. Charlie was new enough to me that I couldn’t hazard a guess about what might have been going on in her head.

  Jaya pulled out a bottle of something from under the sink that smelled like a hospital operating room and sprayed it all over the floor and the surface of the counter around the sink. She didn’t wipe it up, which struck me as odd. I asked her about it.

  “Oh, this is CaviCide. It kills almost everything on non-porous surfaces, but many people make the mistake of wiping it up as though it were window cleaner. This chemical, you let it dry, and then you might decide to go back and make things pleasantly shiny.”

  Charlie and I sounded like a pre-recorded crowd track, “Ah. Oh. Mmm. Uh! Ah. Ah-hah. Hmmm.”

  She looked at us and showed a small smile on her face. “It has been such an eventful and exciting morning I can hardly think straight. Wouldn’t it be lovely to have tea, soak in a bathtub, and try to sort all of it out piece by piece?”

  “I don’t think I could agree with you more if I tried,” Charlie replied, “but I think I’d swap out the tea for JD on the rocks or a bourbon and Coke.”

  “Nigori Junmai Dai Ginjo.”

  “Karate Judo Samurai, what?” Charlie asked, quirking her eyebrow at me.

  “If you’re going to soak in a bath and consume alcohol, super-premium Nihonshu, sake, is the way to go.” My inner hedonist was not going to let it pass without having a say in the matter.

  “Oh.”

  “My friends, let us talk to our neighbors, and then we can debate the fine merits of hot baths and libations of choice. Shall we?”

  My Star of India had a point. If we didn’t start moving, the worry, fear, and intensity of the whole situation might just cause us to freeze up. We had the luxury of a few days to plan, and we needed to make the best of it. The last thing we needed was to panic, freeze, or wait until the last minute to prepare.

  Thankful
ly, we also had some information to work with about the maximum number of bodies Hightower could bring to bear on us. Unfortunately, we also knew he had a Bradley armored vehicle, automatic weapons, mortar launchers, and shoulder-mounted rocket launchers.

  They could hit us from a distance. We did not have that ability. But if we took the fight to them before they could organize, there might be a slim chance we all wouldn’t die.

  Another option we had to consider was packing up our lives and going elsewhere. It was certainly not a fantastic thing to consider, as we would end up leaving most of our resources behind. Then, we would also have to look at the issue of where to go. Unless, of course, each family had a reasonable place to which they could retreat.

  Abandoning our neighborhood would destroy everything we’d built and fought for just as surely as attacking us with overwhelming forces would. If anything, I felt, it would be more demoralizing for us to run than to try to defend what was precious to us.

  This was not my decision to make. We needed everyone to decide. To lose the support of one family would be enough to tilt the table toward flight, rather than fight. We needed everyone in, or we absolutely would not survive.

  We were standing in the middle of the front yard when Jayashri turned to me and said, “I have been very remiss! Charlotte is not the only new person in the community. I forgot you spent the better part of a week alone.”

  “New people?”

  “Yes. Both Nate and Flower were gone for two days after Bajali left. They returned with people they knew from their days in the armed forces. A total of ten new people.”

  “Military or former military, then. They’ll be good resources. I’ll need to talk to all of them, because we need to know what skills they have that would be useful in a fight, besides being able to use guns.”

  We started walking again. By pheromones, non-verbal communication, or telepathy, we all decided to descend on Shawn’s place. Like my hardware store, his garage was on the industrial side of the street, as opposed to Baj’s house, which was one of the center showplaces on the residential side.