The Infected

by Gemma Ritchie

  Natalie rests a hand against my back and I look up. “You must be exhausted. If you want I take you to get washed up. Sam installed a pump downstairs. The water isn’t entirely clean and its cold as shit but it’s better than nothing.” Her wide grey eyes stare at me, sliding to Drew. Mine follow. He smiles, pushes me gently. I don’t want to leave him but the opportunity to be clean is too tempting to pass up.

  “I won’t be long.” I promise, reaching for my pack. He smiles, his eyes already drifting shut before I’ve climbed off the bed. Natalie crosses the room and grabs her rifle before leading me out.

  We head back down to the lobby, rushing past the windowed entrance and through a door marked ‘staff only’. It’s a set of changing rooms. Basins line one wall, two scrubbed clean with blocks of soap nestled in the corner. The rest of the room is taken up by benches with pegs hanging above them. I set down my pack, unzip it and pull out a set of clean clothes. Natalie lifts herself onto the counter beside the sinks, watching me with interest.

  She was right, the water is icy cold and a little cloudy but it’s still cleaner than I am. I strip down to my underwear, fully aware of her presence and my cheeks flame with embarrassment. I glance at her. She’s smirking; probably laughing at my prudishness.

  “So, how did you and Andrew meet?”

  I gasp as icy water runs down my arms, turning a murky pink as I wash off the blood. My teeth chatter but I persevere, jumping from foot to foot. I remember she’s asked me a question and I turn to look at her.

  “We met after the outbreak. Decided two heads were better than one.” I don’t explain further. I know she’s just being friendly but I’m reluctant to say more. I don’t know this woman. She could be a lunatic. I watch her out of my peripheral. She’s removed her jacket. Her arms are a mass of ink, wrapping around and around and disappearing beneath her shirt. She catches me looking, lifts her left arm into the light.

  “Pretty cool huh?” she grins. “I was a rebel child. If somebody told me no I did it anyway.” She traces the lines with her index finger. “This one I got when I was sixteen.” I squint, tilt my head and see a butterfly. Its wings are spread wide, eyes woven intricately into the pattern. I follow it up, find a man’s name between a skull and a rose.

  “Yeah, what a mistake he was.” She lowers her arm. “I had a real knack for picking guys back then.”

  “I bet your brothers loved that.” I brace myself as I wash my hair. I wince as the frigid water runs over the back of my head where I was almost scalped. The soap is odourless but I run it through my hair anyway.

  “I don’t have any brothers.” I tilt my head so I can see her. “Oh, you thought… no, Sam and Kyle aren’t my brothers. We’re family now but not by blood.” She kicks her heels against the counter, rifle slung across her knees as she tucks her hands under her thighs. “I fell in with some bad people, before and after the virus. Without going into the gruesome details, I ended up in a really shitty place and Sam and Kyle… they saved me.”

  We lapse into silence, punctuated by the water running back into the basin. Real knights in shining armour it would seem though Sam strikes me as anything but a white knight. More like a dark knight in bullet riddled armour.

  I finish up, pulling the plug and watching the murky water drain away. To humour my prudery Natalie waits outside so I can change my underwear. I know it’s something I will have to get over eventually, we’re not gonna have bathrooms available forever, but for the time being I would like to hold onto my privacy. And my dignity.

  When we get back to the room Drew is sitting at the table, map rested on its smooth surface as he talks animatedly to Sam. Kyle grins as we enter, jumping up from his chair, earning me a scowl from Sam. I want to ask what his problem is but I bite my tongue, throwing my pack aside and dropping onto the bed. I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything so soft in my life and soon I’m drifting off. Drew’s voice is like a lullaby as oblivion takes me.

  I awake hours later, my mouth dry and a steady thump in the back of my head. Stretching against the comforter I blink the fog from my eyes and push up onto my elbows. The others are still sat at the table, sharing a meal of canned vegetables and dry, stale crackers.

  I roll from the bed and cross the room, hunger gnawing in my gut. Drew looks up and smiles. He’s definitely more lucid now though his face is so swollen nobody will be calling him pretty boy for a while. Pulling out a chair I grab a can, accepting the handful of crackers Kyle shoves in my direction. He’s not looking at me now, expression sullen. I glance at Sam, see him scowling into his bowl and wonder what he’s said to the poor boy.

  We eat in silence. I don’t know what happened while I was out but the air is heavy with tension. It clenches in my chest, throttling me as I try hard to swallow down a mush of carrot and swede. I grab a cracker. It dries out my mouth in seconds, leaving me sputtering, crumbs spraying the table as I choke. Drew thumps my back as Natalie hands me a bottle of water. I chug it down, swallowing hard past the dry mass in my throat.

  My cheeks are red hot as I set down the bottle, eyes watering. I glance at Drew, see his barely contained mirth and laughter bubbles in my chest. Soon we’re both hysterical, Drew banging the table beneath his fist. The others stare at us as if we’re clinically insane and who knows, maybe we are.

  Drew takes deep breaths, holding his ribs as he finds his breath. “After everything we’ve been through, death by cracker would just be embarrassing.”

  I burst into a fit of giggles once more. Natalie and Kyle chuckle along with us but Sam just watches, face void of emotion. My giggles fade away beneath the weight of his stare, eyes dropping back to my meal though the smile doesn’t quite fade. I push the crackers aside, not daring to risk my life again even for their salty goodness.

  Once our meagre meal is consumed, Sam and Drew retreat into a corner, map spread between them and brows drawn in mumbled discussion. Natalie and Kyle sit at the table with a deck of cards, Kyle’s smile returning bit by bit. I watch them, attention divided between their game and Drew and Sam’s plotting. I know it’s selfish, ridiculous even, but I don’t want them to come with us. Don’t get me wrong, Natalie and Kyle are nice but they’re strangers. Their loyalty is to each other. Drew and I have been a team for so long that if anything happened, I know he’d have my back just like I’d have his. I can’t place my faith in these three. If push came to shove, it would be Drew and I that would get the short end of the stick. It would be our necks on the block.

  Whatever reservations I may have, however, are irrelevant it seems. Drew re-joins us at the table, map folded under his arm and that same determination I have come to both loath and admire, lining his face. I know what’s coming before he even takes a breath, the stern flat line of Sam’s mouth confirming it. An unsteady alliance has been struck, with or without my consent.

  “Sam has agreed to come with us.” Drew stares at me as he says it. I keep my face void of all emotion. All eyes swivel towards me, waiting, as if I even get a say in the matter. Like I’m going to say no with them all staring at me. So, I just shrug as if I don’t care either way and excuse myself from the table, busy myself in my pack as I blink back tears of frustration. Nobody comes to check on me, guessing correctly that I want a moment alone. Conversation starts behind me and I feel an irrational sting of betrayal, my lip trembling as I swipe angry tears from my cheeks.

  I’m tired and scared, which is how I explain to myself the millions of tears I’ve cried over the last few days. Taking deep shaky breaths, I refasten my pack and climb onto the bed, curling myself in a ball as I silently cry myself to sleep.

  The next morning I’m so exhausted that when Drew and Sam run through the plan, I don’t bother to listen. I rest my cheek against the cool surface of the table, my head squeezing likes it’s been placed in a vice. All this stress isn’t good for me and I imagine it’s only going to get worse. Why did we leave? We could have survived right where we were. Well, if it weren’t for the hundreds of raging psych
opaths camping outside our door.

  “Are we all clear?” Drew asks. The others voice their affirmation, grabbing their packs and pushing back from the table. Their chairs scrape loudly, reverberating around my head. A hand rests against my back and I sit up, squinting up at Drew’s smiling face. “You okay?”

  I try to nod but it hurts too much so I just mumble, climbing to my feet when what I really want to do is curl up into a ball and disappear. Concern creases his forehead and I smooth it away with my thumb, compelling my mouth into a smile. Satisfied he joins the others and we file out of the hotel room and down the bazillion stairs to the lobby.

  Not for the first time I wonder where they got all the guns but I don’t ask as Natalie, Sam and Drew raise them in front of them. Kyle falls back beside me, his gun having been apprehended, and readjusts his pack. I manage a small smile as we cross the lobby. Sam eases open the door, sticking his head out before waving us over. We funnel out, eyes darting up and down the street, muscles coiled and ready to run. According to Natalie, they won’t take it lightly that the boys stole their prey. Sam had an agreement with Bomber. They leave him and his companions alone and Sam wouldn’t interfere with his detestable pastime. I wonder how many people have died before we were captured?

  And what, if anything, made us different?

  Eight

  - Damsel in Distress -

  We arrive in Leicester, feet dragging and packs feeling considerably heavier than they had that morning. For the last eight hours, Kyle has done nothing but tell and retell the story of my brief act of heroism, which was more like a momentary lapse in judgement. For my benefit, he has left out my rather uncourageous collapse and for that, I am grateful. It took them a good ten minutes to rouse me from my shock induced slumber and when they did, I wish they’d left me there.

  Physically unable to walk any further I plop down in the middle of the road, flopping onto my back to look up at the darkening sky above. Kyle drops beside me, his eyes closing as he blows out a sigh. I’m so tired I could happily fall asleep right here under the stars. To be honest, I’m so unbelievably drained that if a horde of maniacal infected converged on me right now; I don’t think I’d even fight back. Natalie, Drew and Sam stand over us, hands on their hips and varying degrees of irritation creasing their foreheads.

  “Just one minute.” I beg, closing my eyes to avoid their disapproving stares. I hurt in muscles I didn’t know I had, each one of them burning with fatigue. Cracking open one eye I give in to their contemptuous expressions, pushing myself up and nudging Kyle to do the same. He lets out a very childlike whine, a noise I wish I could still pull off and rises to his feet, offering me a hand up as the others walk away.

  Sharing a pout, we walk after them, feeling like scolded children. Just because they’re some sort of post apocalypse machines doesn’t mean I am. A very immature part of me wants to stamp my feet but I refrain, leaving that to Kyle as he mutters under his breath.

  Like most places, the streets are empty except for the odd infected roaming the darkness. We manage to avoid them, keeping low and quiet as we move through the shadows. There are obviously survivors here or the streets would be teeming with virus-riddled lunatics. The question is, are they friend or psychotic foe?

  It doesn’t take long for us to find out.

  A man steps from the gloom of his doorway, gun shaking in his hands. Where did everyone get all the guns? I make a mental note to ask someone. We stop, the guys raising their own weapons, Natalie resting hers at her hip.

  “We don’t want any trouble…” the man’s voice shakes as badly as his aim. Drew lowers his gun, stepping from the group with his hands raised in surrender.

  “Neither do we. We’re just passing through.” He’s using his law enforcement voice, one meant to calm even the craziest of offender. It works and the man lowers his gun, exhaling with relief. Other faces appear behind him now the supposed threat is over, curious wide-eyed stares materialising in the windows. A little girl points, turning to someone I can’t see before waving out at us, toothy grin and all. I smile, waving back.

  “If you could show us somewhere safe to sleep it would be greatly appreciated.” Drew takes another step forward, lowering his arms and pulling out his most charming smile. The man eyes him but keeps the barrel of his gun pointed at the ground. A woman whispers in his ear and he shakes his head, turning back to Drew a little more confidently than he had a few minutes ago.

  “There’s a disused warehouse a little way down the road. It may need clearing out but it’s the best we can offer.” What he actually means is he wants us to clear it out for him. I scowl, turning my back so they don’t see my disdain. Drew thanks him, though there’s an edge in his voice that suggests his thoughts are similar to my own.

  Following the man’s directions, we make it to the warehouse. I can hear the rasping groans from outside. I roll my eyes and shrug off my pack, the weight finally too much. Natalie does the same, rolling her shoulders, neck cracking as she snaps it one way then the other. Drew and Sam have their heads together, a quick pow-wow before we delve into yet another battle. I’m so tired of this and we’re still weeks away from Haven. I catch Kyle’s eye as I turn away and he follows me to a patch of grass.

  “You okay Lou?” he asks. He’s the only one of the three who uses my nickname. I find it strangely endearing. It’s like we’ve developed a bond without even trying. Dropping to the grass I nod and shrug, rubbing my knuckles against my tired eyes.

  “I’m just… so tired of this.” My melancholy is becoming a habit. I’ve never been a happy person, not really, but this is just downright depressing. Turning to look at Kyle as he drops down beside me I heave a sigh. “It’s just… it’s never going to get any better, is it?”

  He shakes his head. “‘Fraid not.” He picks at a blade of grass. “On the plus side, at least you’re not alone. There will be some people out there going through this without anyone to have their back.” He lifts his gaze to his brother. “See, I’ve always had Sam. He’s protected me since the day I was born.”

  I frown. What a strange thing to say. I’m about to ask when Natalie waves us over, rifle cast aside and knife in hand. We hurry to join them, pulling out our own blades. Kyle goes to give his back to Drew who shakes his head, pulling another from his pack.

  “Okay, we’re not gonna use guns. It’ll draw too many of them towards us which I guess is what that old jackass wanted.” Sam sneers and for once, we’re in agreement. “Well, we ain’t nobodies errand boys. He wants the streets clearing he can do it himself.”

  “So…” Drew takes over, his tone more diplomatic. “We’re gonna do this the old-fashioned way. Kyle and Lou, watch each other’s back. Nat you’re with me.” We get into position, Sam at the front, followed by Drew and Natalie with Kyle and I bringing up the rear. I would take offense but I think I’ve been heroic enough for one day.

  Sam rips open the door, charging inside with the rest of us following. He barks a laugh, lowering his weapon and turning to face us.

  “One. One lonely zombie.” He laughs again. It’s such an unfamiliar sound coming from his lips I wonder if he’s having a seizure.

  Stepping round the others I shoot him a sardonic smile. “Be careful, you might pull something.” His laughter dries up, face resuming its usual scowl. “That’s better, you had me worried there for a second.”

  “Play nice, children” Drew shakes his head, biting back a smile as he dispatches the infected trapped amongst a tangle of ropes and wires. Twisting on the balls of my feet I recover the packs from outside the door, chucking them to Kyle whose smiling despite my assault on his brothers charming personality. Pulling the door shut behind me I’m delighted to find a huge deadbolt. I flick it into place, feeling safer than I have in days.

  While the boys go and explore, Natalie and I pull out the sleeping bags and unroll them on the warehouse floor. I flop down onto one, crossing my feet at the ankles and exhale slowly, feeling each of my muscles relax
into mush. A satisfied smile curves my lips. I allow my eyes to close, my fretting stomach reminding me that I haven’t eaten yet.

  When the guys return I open my eyes, watching as they each lug pallets on their shoulders. Drew’s like a kid with a new toy when he pulls out his hatchet. He’s been dying to use it since we found it. I roll to my stomach, resting my cheek on the back of my hands as I watch him break up the pallets into burnable pieces. Kyle sulks when they won’t let him use the hatchet and though I’d never tell him, I think it’s a good idea to keep it out of his reach. The last thing we need is him chopping off a finger or worse.

  Natalie, the post-apocalypse chef genius that she is, once again whips up a hot meal that has my eyes rolling into the back of my head and my stomach babbling with gratitude. Drew sets down his tin bowl, flopping back onto his sleeping bag. As I lay here, amongst the once outcasts of society, I almost feel content. Don’t get me wrong, if someone turned up with a family pack of biscuits and a hot cup of coffee, I would trade their lives in a heartbeat but taking into account that this is the apocalypse and the world is essentially over, I’ve never felt more at home. Like I fit in.

  “I’m dead on my feet. Who’s taking first watch?” Drew asks as he tucks himself into his sleeping bag. I guess he’s not offering. Considering we’re in a deadbolted warehouse and essentially the safest we’ve been in days I raise my hand to volunteer. The others make half-hearted attempts at argument but are soon tucked snugly into their sleeping bags, their snores filling the silence.

  After half an hour, I’m bored. Once, I was so used to my own company it didn’t bother me to be alone but that was back when there were things such as TV and candy crush. Now, having not spent a second unaccompanied in the last two years, the loneliness I thought I’d outrun creeps in once more.

  I pick up the rifle slung across my lap and stand, stretching my stiff limbs and shaking my weary head. The warehouse is huge, a playground to explore. I cast a glance at my sleeping companions and then start to walk, skirting wide around the dead body. I’m thankful it hasn’t been dead longer. I’ve sampled the odours of decay more than enough times over the last few years.