The Infected (Book 2): Karen's First Day

by Zuko, Joseph

  “Coward.” Gray suit sounded like a brat.

  Karen burned Gray suit with her eyes. She gave him a “You are not helping!” look.

  Poole sat down on the state approved mattress and began to shuffle the deck.

  “Is there anyone you could call to help us?” Karen tried her best to calm the rage building in her.

  Poole shuffled the deck again, “Who would I call? You think I have a helicopter waiting for me on speed dial? If I did you think I would still be here?”

  “But you’re supposed to-” Troy was cut off.

  “I’m supposed to uphold the law! I’m not a babysitter.”

  “You swore to protect and serve?” Karen needed to sit down again but there were no chairs in the room.

  “I swore to protect mankind from mankind. Not from…whatever this is.” Poole laid out the cards for a game of solitaire.

  “What is going on out there? Officer Poole has been tight lipped with the details since my wrongful imprisonment. I’m Leon by the way,” he said as he reached his hand through the bars and waited for anyone to shake it. No one did. “I’ll catch you later on that,” Leon said as he pulled his hand back through the bars.

  “There is an infection spreading quickly through bites. It’s chaos out there.” Troy let go of Valerie’s hand and pulled at Poole’s cell door to see if he was truly locking himself in. He had. The door did not budge.

  “So you’re just going to sit there and do nothing?” Karen stepped closer to the bars.

  Poole carefully laid out his cards to begin his game.

  “Families are dying! You need to do something!” Troy kicked at the bars.

  Poole sat on the bed with a straight back. Karen got a strong military vibe off Poole. He struck her as the type that got up early every day, even if it was his day off and his bed would be perfectly made before ever stepping a foot outside.

  “Please.” Karen’s desperation filled the room.

  “I had front desk duty this morning. We had thirty officers calling in for backup by eleven. In half an hour there was no one left to send. I was supposed to retire this year. Me and my boat, fishing every day until I die. That was the plan. I have no interest in getting torn apart to save a couple of people.”

  “We have kids here!’ Karen implored.

  “I’m not stepping outside this cell until the Army has cleared the area.”

  “What are we supposed to do?” Troy grunted at the old man.

  “Not my problem.” Poole laid out card after card until his game was set and ready to play. He never once looked up at his guests.

  Time seemed to drag for Karen. Seconds felt like minutes.

  She was about to fall over, “Could you please look at my wrist?”

  Poole turned over a king of diamonds. He took a deep breath and chewed at his bottom lip.

  “Come on Sergeant Poole. Help the lady out.” Leon let go of his bars and moved to his bed to lie down.

  Poole flipped over a queen of clubs and placed it on the king, “There is a locker room to the right of the office. It has medical supplies. There should be a field guide on injuries. Help yourself.”

  Valerie let out a cough.

  “Give the kid a lozenge. I have a bag in the center drawer of my desk. I don’t want her driving me nuts with that cough,” grunted Poole.

  Troy led Karen back to the office and helped her down into a chair.

  “You girls be good while Uncle Troy looks for something to help your Mama’s hand.” Troy kept the girls occupied with their own rolling chairs. The children took turns spinning each other as Karen closed her eyes and tried to drift away.

  Using what little energy she had left, she transported herself through time and space to a 2007 Las Vegas trip she took with Jim. It was two years before Valerie was born and it was the last time the couple had gone on a real vacation. Jim had saved money for a year and they spent the whole week at the brand new Wynn Hotel and Casino. They never left the property for the whole four days they were there. They spent their days by the topless pool, soaking up the hot summer sun with a cold drink in their hand. At night they ate at the best restaurants the hotel had to offer. Then they did a little gambling, a little drinking and a lot of love making. It was the best pre-children week of their lives. The memory helped her float out of her contemporary body and into a place where there was no more pain. No death. No infection. No injured wrist. Only the warm feelings of the sun and the love she shared with her soul mate that week so long ago.

  The dream was interrupted by Troy as he crashed through the locker door. Slung over his shoulder was a red duffle bag with a white cross on it.

  “I got it.” Troy rushed to her side. She could hear him talking but she was no longer able to respond. The little ones looked over his shoulder as he unzipped the bag and dug through the contents.

  “Is that the medicine?” Valerie inquired as she touched her uncle’s shoulder and leaned in to get a better look.

  “Mama, medicine,” Robin said as she pointed. It was time for her hourly update.

  Karen nodded her head and muttered, “Mm-hm.”

  It was enough to confirm the update for Robin. The toddler dropped to her knees and helped her uncle take out some of the packed supplies. Troy found a textbook style medical guide at the bottom of the bag and some generic aspirin. He pulled a dirty coffee cup off of one of the desks, ran back to the locker room, cleaned the cup, filled it with cold water and ran it back out to Karen.

  “Here’s some aspirin and water.” Troy handed over the pills.

  She popped them into her mouth and took the cup of water with her good hand and drained it. Troy opened to the table of contents and found the section on dislocations. He carried it over to the desk next to Karen. He read and studied the photos.

  In his late teens Troy had become the man of the house when his parents separated and he stayed with his mother. Fixing appliances, yard work, routine car maintenance and carpentry all became his responsibility and he faced it head on. He took great pride and comfort in repairing broken items. It made him feel complete when he was in charge of the organization and upkeep of the home. He never visited a shrink or took a psychology class in college, but it didn’t take a genius to recognize that a child of divorce loved a sense of control. Even if his power to control only extended to the perfect organization of the garage, it still felt great for Troy to know everything had its place and he was in charge. This was the main reason he excelled at his job. He was a shipping and receiving clerk at a major electronics company in Vancouver. Products and paperwork had to be precise. You misplace a box and there went ten thousand dollars of equipment.

  Troy read and reread the section on dislocation for half an hour. He held up the example photos next to Karen’s wrist. He calculated an eighty percent chance it was dislocated and not broken. He poured over the chapter on how to set and properly wrap a wound like this. Once his brain ached with knowledge, he put the book down, rubbed his eyes and walked over to his sister. Karen had put herself into a light trance. She was no longer able to carry on a conversation or parent her children. Her eyes opened only when Troy took her by the forearm to look over the now purple colored wrist.

  “Okay, I think I got this,” Troy said as he put on a brave face but his sister could see the truth. This was not something in either of their wheelhouses. She was just getting used to the kids skinned knees and bumped noggins. This was another level of injured she had never experienced. She didn’t have a lot of choices. It was not like she could run across town and ask for another doctor’s opinion.

  Karen muttered, “Do it,” and turned her head away from the carnage. Troy got a good grip on her forearm and then around her fist. He didn’t give her a warning. He just pulled.

  POP!

  Karen’s screams filled the building.

  “Mama, you okay?” Was the last thing Karen heard before she passed out.

  Chapter 17

  Penny stared out the front window
of her home. It had been thirty minutes since Troy had dropped her off. He left to get Karen, the girls and god-willing, Jim would be home too. It was silent in her house. The only sound was of her nervous breathing. Outside the house was a different story. Screams and sirens filled the neighborhood. Someone on this block was being murdered. It was difficult to tell where the cries were coming from. Maybe three houses down. Maybe two. This nightmare was moving closer.

  She had forgotten her phone at work. She didn’t really forget it. Troy grabbed her and forced her out the front door. He didn’t wait for her to gather her things. Years ago she’d had the landline turned off. It was a waste of money. No one ever called her except for telemarketers.

  No cell. No landline. She was on an island. All alone. No way to know if anyone was ever coming. Penny limped over to the front door to double check that it was locked. Her ankle was acting up again.

  Maybe it was going to rain?

  She reached out and pulled at the door. The sore ligament in her shoulder ached. She hurt it eight years ago. It wasn’t a car accident or a bad fall that injured her. She was putting a box of cereal away and lifted it up onto her refrigerator. Then her shoulder popped and that was it. She needed surgery to get it back to one hundred percent.

  Next month she was finally going under the knife to get her muscles stretched or ligaments tightened or whatever they were going to do to fix her. The door was locked, of course. It was locked the last time she checked it and the time before that. Her anxiety had been building all afternoon. She could feel her heart beating in her chest. It reminded her to take her blood pressure medication.

  She was in her early sixties and falling apart. She had watched her mother go through the same thing twenty years ago. Penny limped back into the kitchen, got her pills and a cold glass of water. She tossed the medicine into the back of her throat and chugged the water.

  The sound of an explosion blasted through her neighborhood. The noise scared her so badly she dropped her drink mid-sip. It shattered on the hardwood floor. Bits of glass spread from the dishwasher to the dining table in the next room.

  “Shit,” she cursed as she leaned over her countertop and moved in closer to the kitchen window to get a better look outside. A mushroom cloud loomed in the distance. Judging by the size of the cloud and its location from her house, Penny suspected that her favorite gas station was no longer open for business.

  Damn, they had the best cheap coffee.

  A full fifty cents cheaper than any other station in this zip code. A car sped down her street. It was streaked in red. It took her brain three beats to calculate what was covering the vehicle.

  Blood.

  She hated the sight of it. Blood always made her sick to her stomach. The back of her throat had begun to fill with saliva. After seeing that much blood she thought she was going to vomit for sure. It had to do with the fact that it was pumping through your organs and without it you were dead meat. Seeing it on the outside of the body where it does not belong made her think about death.

  Even just thinking about thinking about it made her sick. Penny high stepped over the glass to the broom that rested against the corner wall of the kitchen. She worked at sliding the shards into a small pile. Busy work always helped calm her nerves. As she pushed the pile of glass into the dustpan then she emptied the dustpan into a half full garbage can under the sink. She thought about emptying the dishwasher. More busy work to keep her mind off nagging thoughts.

  Where were her children and grandbabies?

  On the quick drive from her office back to her home she had seen many horrific acts of violence. She had been born and raised in the South and every Sunday went to church with her family. She had listened to preachers talk about hell and damnation. Some of the church leaders would go on at great length about the types of tortures a sinner might encounter by the hand of the devil. When she was twelve years old the church got a new preacher. Preacher Jenson, he loved to go on and on about the devil tearing you apart, putting you back together just to tear you apart the next day. What Penny saw happening to her fellow humans on the ride home, the biting and tearing of their flesh, was spot on with Preacher Jenson’s idea of hell.

  Penny opened the Whirlpool dishwasher and rolled out the top rack. The clanking sound of the porcelain bowls banging together as she stacked them on the shelf was normally as soothing as a rainforest soundscape to her.

  It wasn’t working this time. No matter how empty the dishwasher and sink were she couldn’t turn off her brain. She was going nuts. Forks and knives rattled in her shaking hands as she dropped them into their proper slots. This was how the start of a nervous breakdown would begin. The next step was mumbling to herself all of the different scenarios that could happen to her children. Cursing out loud was the next step to the breakdown.

  “What the hell is going on?”

  “I can’t believe this shit.”

  “It’s a goddamn mess.”

  “This world is so fucked up!”

  Throwing f-bombs around meant she was at the tipping point and she needed to go lay down in her recliner and start her deep breathing exercises. Otherwise she might pass out. Penny left the kitchen with the Whirlpool half full. As she exited the room she turned on the teapot she got herself for Christmas that year. A strong cup of tea would help.

  She worked her aching body down onto the soft recliner, put up her feet, closed her eyes and concentrated on relaxing.

  Everything is fine.

  Traffic is bad and holding them up.

  They will be here any second.

  Everything will be okay.

  Don’t worry about not having a way to contact them.

  Don’t think about them getting killed or torn apart by those monsters.

  Don’t think about your grandbabies being scared and alone.

  Or dead!

  “Damn it!” she cursed at her brain. She started off so good and then tripped right back into the negative thoughts. Every minute that passed drove her a little crazier. She knew how long it took to get from her place to Karen’s and back.

  They should be here by now.

  She needed to try again to relax. This time she should focus on the warmth of Valerie and Robin’s hugs. The little extra slobber that came with every kiss from their sweet puckered lips. She had to focus on the heart-warming sound of her daughter’s laugh. The bass of Troy’s booming voice as he said “Hello Mama.” All of those thoughts calmed her hyperactive heart.

  All of the anxiety Penny was trying to squash in her mind and heart felt like the same level of nervousness she had twenty years ago on the first night without her husband. She was all alone, just her and the children. The divorce was about to be final and Karen and Troy’s father had taken a new job on the other side of the United States. It was up to her now to find a job and finish raising two teenagers. The responsibility was crushing. The fear kept her up late most nights. But the first night alone was the worst.

  At three in the morning she couldn’t take it anymore. Penny climbed out of her bed and snuck into her thirteen year old daughter’s room. Karen woke up enough to make space for Penny in the bed.

  Young Karen whispered to her Mama, “I love you and don’t worry we’ll be okay.”

  It was exactly what the nervous Mama needed to hear.

  Penny had relaxed so deeply on her recliner that she finally fell asleep. The whistling sound of her teapot woke her. She fought her way out of the recliner and back into the kitchen. She turned off the pot and the loud whistling came to a stop. Penny picked up a box of teabags and worked one out of its package. She placed the bag into her favorite cup and poured the hot water over it. She needed to let it steep for a few minutes.

  Something moved outside in her backyard. It put her on a razors edge. Something moved again past her back sliding glass door. It was a goddamn chicken.

  I need to put those little buggers up or they might attract one of those sick people.

  Maybe I should wait
for Troy or Karen to do it?

  Troy had told her to stay inside. Penny walked slowly over to her sliding glass door. Half a dozen feathered friends pecked at the ground outside their cage. She rubbed at her temples and then popped her knuckles. It was a routine she would do every time she was planning something. A little rub and pop before making a decision.

  She looked around the backyard and everything was totally normal. Two chickens started to fight over the same worm and they made a lot of noise. That sealed it. She had to put the ladies up for the day. The heavy glass door was hard to get moving on the dirty track. She had to use both arms to get it going and both to get it shut.

  She had left the door open once while she was watering her plants and two of the chickens let themselves right into her house. Penny thought for sure they were going to shit everywhere and she had a hell of time wrangling them up and getting the two buggers back out. From that day on no matter how bad her shoulder hurt she made sure she shut the door after her.

  She called to them quietly, “Here chick, chick, chicky. Here chick, chick, chicky.” Penny snatched up one of the gals from the ground. It let out a loud “Bock!” She entered the cage area of the coop and helped the chicken back into its home. Troy and Jim had helped her build the coop and cage a couple years back. They had worked on it in the hot summer sun for a full week. The coop area that the gals slept in was four by six feet wide and the cage was ten by twenty feet. The cage area where she was standing had chicken wire running from the ground to the slanted roof that stood six and a half feet high. The wood in the cage area was stained a dark brown and the coop was bright red. The structure dominated the backyard.

  Penny plucked four more chickens from the ground and dropped them off in their home. She heard a loud scream coming from somewhere in her neighborhood. It sounded like a man calling for help. He was crying for someone to save him.

  Penny moved quickly across her backyard. At five foot two she was way shorter than the fence that surrounded her yard and it gave her a feeling of invisibility. She had been favoring her sore ankle and her adjusted walk was putting a cramp in her other calf. Every step was so painful she looked crippled as she fought her way over the uneven ground of the backyard towards the last chicken. Her little egg-producing friend was hiding behind a shrub and Penny had to give it a little kick to get it out of its hiding spot.