by Wise, A. R.
“Who’re you?” asked one of the infected, a thick-chested, tall man of around forty. He had bushy eyebrows, slightly downturned, revealing fledgling anger on an otherwise stony expression. Distrust.
Porter didn’t respond.
“What’s with the mask?” The infected man drew a bowie knife from a leather sheath attached to a wide belt. The blade was stained by blood. “You need help, stranger?”
“I’ve got something for you,” said Porter.
The man advanced to meet Porter, followed by his two lackeys, both short, scrawny, and identical in every way except the color of their shirts. They were twins, each with wounds on their throats. The twins held steak knives. They looked like weak interpretations of the man between them, like pod people interrupted mid-way through gestation.
“I don’t need help. I need to give you something.” Porter removed one of the canisters from its loop in his belt.
“What’s that?”
“A gift.”
Porter pulled the pin, and dropped the white cylinder. It rolled and began spewing a plume of red. The smoke acted like a weak jet, propelling the can haphazardly at the three men before causing it to spin and dance like a jumping jack firecracker.
“What the hell?” asked the taller man as the red clouded him.
Porter didn’t stay to watch the chaos. He ran for a nearby store, and leapt through the broken window. He ducked behind looted shelving units, skidding on his knees through glass.
The infected coughed and yelled. They thrashed and screamed, a wild mosh in a haze of poison.
Porter dared a glance at the maelstrom as The Red Solution drifted through the windows, smothering the front of the store, thick and impenetrable. He couldn’t see the infected, and tried to get to the back of the convenience store only to discover he was locked in. As The Red Solution filled the air, blooming in the aisles, he saw the wild shadows of figures in the mist, crashing their way towards him.
“Come here,” said one of them, angry despite the debilitating cloud.
Porter took a fire extinguisher off the wall, and watched as the shadow in the red advanced. The infected emerged, bursting through the mist as if it was a curtain. It was one of the twins. His tears were stained ochre, and his nose leaked dual streams of snot. He charged, but Porter countered by thrusting the extinguisher into his face. The man fell, ruined. His nose was broken and at least one tooth had been knocked free. He didn’t move after settling in a heap on the floor.
The other two were fighting each other. The twin was being violently manhandled, thrown back and forth, thwacking his head and limbs against the empty shelves. The stronger man devastated the little twin, cracking his bones and squeezing his eyes. The twin’s blood-curdling screams ceased just before his body hit the tile.
Porter snuck through the gas, protected by his mask, and made his way to the exit, all while the second twin died. The street was hazed by thick gas that Porter waded through until he found a parked car. He opened the door and searched for a key, but couldn’t find one.
“Where are you?” screamed the infected inside the store as he pushed down shelving units.
Porter continued down the street, pausing at every car he passed until he found one with the keys still in the ignition. It was an older model station wagon, its color masked by the impenetrable fog of crimson dust. He got in and started the lazy engine. It grumbled and shook, and then finally turned over, but not quick enough to avoid revealing his location to his newest nemesis.
The furious infected came lunging through the mist, and attacked the station wagon as if certain he could cleave it in two. He slammed into the side, and then began pounding on the windows. He tore at the seal, digging his fingernails in before Porter drove off. He screamed in fury, left behind and instantly lost amid the swirling Red Solution as Porter escaped.
The road teemed with infected, curious and drawn to the fog like moths to a flame. Perhaps it was the promise of violence that drew them. Whatever it was, they stood in the growing plume with red in their tears, staring ahead as if the transformation happening in their brains was like a glimpse of heaven. Zombies in the mist. Transforming into something worse than before, and seconds from turning on their brethren.
Porter felt no kinship to them.
He plowed through those who didn’t move. Soon he was out of town, only conscious of his southern direction by the vanished sun’s meager twilight to his right. He took out his folded photo, glanced at the smeared writing on the back, and then set it on the dash. His family, or who he hoped was his family, stared back at him. Next, he placed the mirror Paulson had given him beside the picture, giving him proof that the man in the picture was the same as the one in the glass, though they barely looked alike at this point. His bloody, scarred, weathered, worn visage was a far cry from the happy ghost. Still, he did what he had to. He recited the name, “Mary, Mark, and Anthony. Mary, Mark, and Anthony.”
This necessity brought new tears. Not the ones caused by infection, but the honest ones of true, deep regret and stomach-clenching sorrow.
“Mary, Mark, and Anthony.”
“Mary, Mark, and Anthony.”
“Mary, Mark, and Anthony.”
Day Five – 7:28pm
“Who am I?” asked Red, shocked by her question. “What do you mean who am I?” He took a step forward, and she darted back. She drew the pistol he’d given her before the black stranger had arrived.
“Stay back,” she commanded.
“What’s wrong?”
The gun shook in her hands. “I’ll shoot you!”
“It’s me, Red.”
“No, no, no,” she shook her head. “You’re lying. You’re not Red.”
“Yes I am, June.”
“Stop it.”
“It’s me, Red. Who the hell else do you think I am?”
“Stop it. Stop saying you’re Red. Who the fuck are you?” Her finger slid off the guard and over the trigger.
“Hey, hey,” said Red as he lifted his hands and stepped back. “Put the gun down, June.”
“How do you know me?”
“That red shit… It must’ve… June, calm down. You got poisoned or something. That red fog, it… It fucked with your head. It did the same thing to a guy back in Boise City. He forgot who his nephew was. That red shit fucks with you. Listen to my voice, June. I’m Red.”
“No you’re not!” She screamed as loud as she could, and held the gun with both hands. “Don’t you think I know what Red looks like? Who are you? What did you do with him? What did you do with Red?”
“Close your eyes,” said Red. “Or eye, or whatever. Close your eye and listen to my voice. It’s me. I’m Red. I don’t know what that gas did to you, but it fucked you up somehow. Listen to my voice, June. It’s me.”
“No,” she shook her head. “It’s not.”
He took a step closer, but she thrusted the gun forward and tried to pull the trigger. He stared at her hand, thoroughly shocked at her attempted murder, and it took a moment for him to realize she was holding the same gun Allie had – the one with the sticky safety.
She figured out the problem, and clicked off the safety before aiming it again. Red closed the gap between them, yanked at her hand, and tore the gun away. She clawed at him, and screamed before leaping away.
“Stop it, June.”
The rifle was on the road, and she went for it. He was closer, and put his foot down on it before she could pick it up. June staggered away, towards the field.
Porter barked, incensed by their fight. He was out in the field, nervously pacing.
“June, stop!”
“Leave me alone.” She went into the ditch, fell, and then crawled towards the brown field. “Get away from me.”
“June, what… What’re you doing?”
He followed her into the field. The only other choice was to let her wander off into the unforgiving desert of west Texas. He followed, and pleaded with her to stop, but she continued to run f
rom him. Running to the faded sunset, screaming at him to leave her alone.
Day Five – 8:59 pm
The full moon provided a haunting glow. The stars were alight with a brilliance Red hadn’t seen in years. Blue hazed the milky way, a strip of brilliance hidden from nearly every modern man or woman who cast a glimpse at the night sky. The burn of modern life usually stole the beauty from them. Now, in this bleak apocalypse, there was nothing to compete with heaven’s aura. The clustered stars shone like diamonds floating across a celestial river that eased its way across the black.
“June, look up,” said Red.
“Fuck you,” she said, far ahead, stumbling slower and slower through the plain. “Leave me alone.”
“Look at the stars.”
He couldn’t tell for certain, but he thought she looked up briefly.
“Remember our first date?” he asked. “Well, not a real date. It was out on Heady Hill, when Rachel got sick and passed out. We stayed up and talked. We talked all night, just sitting there staring at the stars. Remember?”
“Quit it.”
“Quit what?”
“Quit trying to convince me you’re Red. You’re not Red.”
“If I’m not Red, then how do I remember that?”
“I don’t know,” she said, her agony over her confusion apparent. “I… You’re a liar.”
“Ask me anything,” said Red. “Ask me something about Red that only I would know, or he would. Or… you get the point. Ask me anything.”
“I’m not playing your game.”
“This isn’t a game, babe. This is as serious as it fucking gets. Look around. If we keep on like this, we’ll both die out here. We won’t make it a day out in the heat without food or water. Listen, June. Please listen to me.”
She slowed. Porter was at her side, more trusting of her than he was of Red.
He continued, “The military used that red mist before. I saw it out in Boise City. It messes with people’s heads, and makes them forget each other. I met a guy who couldn’t remember his nephew. He swore the kid wasn’t who he said he was.”
“Where’s Boise City?”
“Back in Oklahoma. You were out cold from the pain killers. I went into town to get you some medicine.”
She turned to him, still twenty yards away. “What happened to Allie?”
Red didn’t want to answer.
“Well? What happened to her? Where is she?”
“She died.”
“She…” June’s voice broke. “She died?”
“Yeah. I’m sorry, June.”
“You said she was… You’re lying. Red told me she was with her uncle. You’re a fucking liar.”
“I lied to you about what happened, and I think even if you don’t want to admit it, you know I was lying. Allie got shot. I dropped you and her off at a farm house, and then I went into Boise City to get supplies. When I came back, you were out cold. You overdosed on pain killers. After that, some helpers showed up, and Allie and I had to fight them off. She didn’t… She didn’t make it.”
“Why should I believe anything you say?”
“Because if I wanted to kill you, I could’ve shot you an hour ago. I wouldn’t be chasing you into the middle of nowhere like this. I wouldn’t be begging you to believe me. Think about it!”
She couldn’t deny that what he said made sense.
“June, I love you.”
“No you don’t. Now I know you’re not Red.”
“Why?”
“Because Red didn’t love me. We’ve only been together a couple months.”
“I do love you, June.”
“Bullshit,” she said, but didn’t object when he took a few steps closer. “The only reason Red stayed with me is because we got stuck together. If it wasn’t for what happened, he would’ve dumped me by now, just like he did every other girlfriend he ever had.”
“That’s not true, June.”
“Yes it is. You… He nearly left me back at the school. He wanted to get rid of me then.”
“The school?” asked Red, confused.
“Yeah, when we were stuck in the classroom. He said I was the queen of all bitches, and that he was only with me for now.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“Yes you did,” she yelled. “He did. Red did, or whatever. Not you, but him. Fuck! I can’t think straight. Everything’s all screwed up in my head.”
“It’s the red shit. It’s screwing with your mind.”
“Red!” She screamed as loud as her tortured lungs would allow, as if calling out into the vast emptiness for her lover to come save her. “Red, please!”
“I’m here. I’m right here.”
She collapsed.
He ran to her, and she began to try and crawl away. She kicked dirt and stones at him as Porter barked uncertainly.
“June, stop. Wait, please. Stop kicking.”
“Fuck you!”
“It’s me, Red.”
“I don’t care who you are. I don’t care if you’re Red or not. I don’t want you. I don’t want to have anything to do with you.” She pushed him away, and scooted back. They stared at one another, awash in pale blue moonlight, separated by a few feet and wary of breaching the distance. “You’re a liar.”
“I lied about Allie.”
“Red never loved me.”
“Yes I do. I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”
She began to cry. “What’s wrong with me?”
“It’s from the grenade that guy threw. It’s a nerve agent or something. I don’t know, but it messes with your mind. You’ve got to trust me.”
“I don’t.” She shook her head. “I don’t trust you. I want you to go. Leave me here. I don’t want to be with you anymore.”
“I’m not leaving you.”
She screamed in a sudden fit of anger, “Leave! Go!”
Porter tucked his tail between his legs and backed away. Red stayed where he was.
“Go!”
Red looked up at the stars. “I’m not going anywhere. You’re in no shape to be running around out in the desert, and I’m not leaving you here to die. At least not alone, anyway.”
“You’d be willing to die out here with me?”
“I’d prefer not to die, but if this is where you want to end it – I guess it could be worse.” He gazed up at the sky. “Certain poetry to it.”
“Poetry?”
“Yeah. We started under the stars, you and me. Why not end it there?”
“You want to die?”
“No, but I’m not leaving here without you, and like I said, you’re not going to make it far. You’re burning up with fever, you’ve got a bullet hole in your face that hasn’t been treated, and now your head’s all twisted up. We’re out in the middle of the desert with no food, no water, no shelter… No nothing. By this time tomorrow, we’re goners. That is unless we get back to the road and find a car.”
“You should go without me,” she said.
“Not an option.”
Porter returned to them, wary and fearful. He kept his head ducked as he made his way to Red’s side. June watched as Red scratched the dog’s ears.
“How’re you doing, buddy?” asked Red as he gingerly touched the dog’s side. “Did one of those helpers kick you? Is that why you’re walking funny?”
June continued to watch.
“I’m sorry, pal. I should’ve made sure you were somewhere safe before they showed up. I wasn’t thinking. Do you forgive me?” Porter licked Red’s chin. “Yeah? You forgive me? Good.”
“Give me a gun,” said June.
Porter looked at her, caught off guard by the request.
“Give me that pistol. Or the rifle. Either or, I don’t care. You said you want me to trust you, but you’re the one with the guns.”
Red considered it. He took out the Ruger, flipped it around so that he was holding the barrel, and then reached across the space between them to offer her the handle. “Here.”
She reached for it carefully, and then snatched it away as if afraid he might rescind his offer at the last second. She aimed it at him, and held the gun with both hands.
He didn’t flinch.
She didn’t shoot.
They only stayed like that for a few second, though it felt interminably longer.
“Here’s how this is going to go,” she said. “I don’t know you, and I don’t want to hear any more about how you’re Red. That’s bullshit. You’re a liar, but I’m pretty sure you don’t want to kill me, and I’m also pretty sure you don’t want to die. So this is what’s going to happen. We’re going to walk back to the road. You’ll walk up front, and I’ll have this gun pointed at you the whole time. If you try anything, I’ll put you down. Got it?”
“Fair enough,” said Red as he stood, dusted off his pants, and picked up the rifle.
June rose slow and unsteady, her equilibrium challenged by fever and lost vision.
“It’s going to take us a while to get back to the road, and even longer to find a car,” said Red. “Do you think you can make it, or do you want me to carry you?”
“I can make it.”
Day Five – 11:31 pm
Red and June walked in silence most of the way back to the road. For the first hour, Red tried to make small talk. He tried to gain her trust, and to relay anecdotes about their relationship. June wasn’t interested, and didn’t seem any closer to believing he was truly Red than she had when the mist first affected her.
Once back to the road, the daunting journey seemed insurmountable. The achievement of reaching the road didn’t bring any relief. Now they were faced with an uncertain path, deeper into the heart of Texas, down a dusty road that might’ve gone days between a single traveler even back when the world hadn’t fallen down around it.
Still they trudged on, together, even if only for now.
Red heard June crying, and turned. She’d let the gun fall to her side, but lifted it with renewed anger when he turned.
“Keep going,” she said.
“You okay?”
Her skin looked so pale in the moonlight. The bandages on the right side of her face had seeped through with blood. The infection had swelled her nose.