Zomb-Pocalypse 4

by Megan Berry

  Dad stops and gently strokes my mom’s face. “It doesn’t work like that, baby. We’ve all been exposed.” He turns around and looks at Silas and I. “I’ve had a fever all morning,” he admits to us, and I flinch. I’d just thought it was his sore muscles.

  “Most things are contagious before they even start,” Silas says, adding his own two cents. “Separating us now won’t do any good. I’d rather come in and see if I can help,” he says, and I nod as well.

  “Of course I’m going to help. My family is in there,” I say. There was never a question, and Dad gives me an approving look.

  “Help Silas put the meat away, around back, and I’ll get your mother tucked away into bed,” he tells us before disappearing into the house. Silas and I cast each other worried looks and then start off around the house to the backdoor that leads to the kitchen. I rush ahead to open the door for him, but all I can think about is what’s going on in the other side of the house.

  Chapter Seven

  The temperature inside the boarded off kitchen is just as cold as it is outside. Silas and I rush to each grab an end of the moose quarters and haul them over to the countertop. I’m not squeamish about the meat anymore; I’m barely giving it a second thought as I practically throw it so I can get back inside and check on everyone.

  “It’s going to be okay, Jane,” Silas tells me, and I nod automatically. I don’t believe him though. He doesn’t know anything more than I do, but it’s nice of him to try. A faint cough has my head whipping around. You can always hear the murmur of voices through the wall, but that sounded like it was practically inside the room with us.

  “Did you hear that?” I whisper to Silas, not sure why I’m whispering… It’s not like a zombie would be coughing. Silas nods, his face a mask of concern as he whips out a flashlight and steps around the counter, panning it back and forth.

  “Jane!” he calls out, and something in his voice has me running. I step past Silas and let out a cry when I see Abby hunched over on the floor.

  “What are you doing in here?” I demand as I rush forward and put my hand on her forehead. She’s ice cold and clammy. The light isn’t good in here with the windows boarded up, but Silas shines his light on her face. I’m shocked at how pale she is. She looks like a zombie.

  I have no idea how long she’s been in here, and my mind goes blank with panic for a minute. She isn’t even wearing a coat, and her feet are bare. Silas shoves the flashlight into my hand and springs into action.

  He takes off his own coat, just like my dad did, and throws it over Abby’s shivering body. “Too hot…” Abby mumbles half-coherently. Seeing her like this makes me want to start crying. Silas scoops her up into his arms and heads for the door to take her back into the living room.

  “Shut the backdoor and make sure no one else is in here,” he tells me in a rush, and I nod numbly. I scan the room carefully to make sure I’m the only one in here, and am relieved that I don’t find anyone else half frozen to death and laying on the floor. The travois is in the way of shutting door and there is still one large chunk of moose meat sitting on it.

  I rush forward and try to pick up the meat. It’s got to weigh close to one hundred and fifty pounds though, and I struggle. I let out a scream of frustration that ends in a cough as I give it another go, and the meat slowly begins to move, dragging along the floor. I’m so beyond caring about the meat touching the floor right now. I get it clear of the door and drop it like a lead balloon right in the middle of the floor. I push the sled out of the way and shut and lock the backdoor.

  I’m nearly in agony wondering what’s happening on the other side of the cabin now. I jog to the door and step inside, hesitating as the smell of sickness permeates my nostrils. The room is dim since the windows are boarded up. The only light is from the fireplace at the far end of the room.

  Silas and my dad are the only two up on their feet. Everyone else is strewn around the room on their mattresses, some flat on their backs like Abby, my mom, and Ryan, while Regg and Megan are at least propped up and look quasi alert.

  Megan lets out a raspy, horrible sounding cough that seems to shake her entire body. It causes her to let out a scream of pain and clutch at the bullet wound in her shoulder.

  “Holy cow,” I murmur to myself before forcing my feet to move. I join Silas and my dad near the fire. Silas is adding a couple new logs to keep the temperature up, and for a moment I’m at a loss for words.

  “What do we do?” I ask quietly. Dad looks a little dazed, and when the fire starts licking the new logs Silas just added, I can see the thin trails of perspiration leaking down his face. “Dad?” I say hesitantly, and it takes a full moment before he looks towards me.

  “You need to lie down,” I tell him, but he stubbornly shakes his head.

  “She’s right, sir,” Silas tells him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. Dad looks like he wants to argue, but Silas is already shaking his head.

  “We made it down the mountain. We made it home, and you did your job,” Silas tells my dad in a reassuring voice. “You’ll be no help to anyone else if you get too sick,” he adds, and Dad finally nods.

  “I guess a small nap might make me feel better,” he says, giving in, and I shoot Silas a grateful look. Dad strips off the rest of his outerwear and boots and crawls in beside my mom on their mattress. I follow him over and tuck him into bed like he’s the child and I’m the parent.

  I place my hand on his forehead. I’m not really sure what I’m feeling for, but it’s what my Mom always does to me when I’m sick. He’s burning up. I snatch my hand away and give him a reassuring smile that I’m sure doesn’t quite reach my eyes. Illness is terrifying now, just like with Megan’s bullet wound, there aren’t any hospitals around to help if we really need it. I take a deep, steadying breath—they have to be alright.

  “How are you feeling?” Silas asks me a few hours later, and I shrug.

  “I think I’m okay,” I tell him, even as I realize that my throat is starting to feel a bit scratchy. I clear my throat and pray that it’s just my mind playing tricks.

  Silas gives me a look like he’s trying to gauge if I’m telling the truth or not, but finally he shrugs. “It looks like influenza,” he tells me, and I nod. That makes sense, every winter everyone usually catches a bug of some sort.

  “What do we do?” I ask, and Silas looks around at all the prone bodies, his expression troubled.

  “We need to make sure they get plenty of fluids,” he says, but I can tell he’s just guessing. He isn’t a doctor, and I’m pretty sure his extensive knowledge of the woods and nature isn’t going to help us out here. “Let’s try some broth, and maybe heat up some hot water,” he tells me, and I nod again. It’s a good idea.

  “I’m pretty sure I saw some broth cubes in the kitchen,” I tell him, and Silas gives me an approving nod.

  “Go get them. I’ll go outside and—”

  His words are cut short by a harsh cough, and we both look at each other with dread for a minute. If Silas gets sick, I don’t know what we will do. He’s always been the strong one and right now he and I are it… and I’m pretty sure I’m getting sick as well. “It’s going to be okay,” Silas tells me in a calm and steady voice. I know he can see the panic in my eyes and is trying to reassure me. “The most important thing right now is to keep the fire going and to make sure everyone gets fluids.” He reaches out and squeezes my hand. “You go get the broth and I’ll go outside and get some snow to melt.”

  I take a deep breath that doesn’t even begin to calm the panic inside my chest and give Silas a quick hug before rushing off to the kitchen. I’m determined not to let anyone down.

  Silas brings in multiple buckets of snow, and we melt and boil them in two separate pots over the fire. I throw a handful of broth cubes into the first pot. I have no idea what the proper ratio is. We keep the second pot just plain water, and Silas drags out a bunch of towels from the hall closet. He cuts them into smaller strips for rags, using
his knife. We boil the water and then set it aside and let it cool down.

  Abby seems to be the worst off, so I try feeding her the broth first. I carefully carry the bowl over and stack her pillows so she is sitting up a little. Silas comes with me and helps me move her before I hold the spoon up to her lips. “Come on, Abbs,” I whisper, but her dry lips remain closed. I put the spoon down and give her a little shake. “It’s time to wake up,” I tell her in a completely fake cheerful voice. “You need to eat something.” But she doesn’t seem to be aware that I’m here.

  “She needs to take it,” Silas tells me, and it steels my nerve. I pick up the spoon again and this time force it past her lips, managing to dribble a little into her mouth. Most of it runs out, but some goes down her throat.

  “It’s gonna be a long night,” Silas tells me, passing me one of the cloths that he cut and dipped in the warm water we boiled. I use it to wipe the soup from Abby’s chin and the sweat from her forehead.

  Silas pours two more cups of broth and hands them to Megan and Regg, who are still alert enough to feed themselves.

  He leaves my dad sleeping, since we at least know he’s had fluids today. He pours another cup and heads for Ryan. I watch him from the corner of my eye, not sure what to expect, but Silas is just as gentle with Ryan as he was with Abby.

  He tries shaking him awake first to judge what level of awareness he has. Ryan stirs from his sleep with a horrible cough that makes me wince, and Silas puts his hand to his brow. “He has a fever, but it doesn’t feel as bad as Abby’s,” he tells me, and I nod to show him that I understand. Abby spits out a bit more soup, and it causes a coughing spasm that shakes her entire body.

  “I’m so sorry,” I murmur to her as I gently dab away the streams of tears that appear in the corner of her eyes from the force of her cough. Her cough is so raw and painful that it hurts me to hear it.

  She coughs again, and this time a little bit of blood lands on her lip. “Silas,” I call out, and I can barely even speak I’m so terrified by the sight of it there on her lip. Blood is never a good thing, especially not when vomiting up massive amounts of blood is a sign someone’s turning into a zombie.

  Silas walks over. I point out the blood and he frowns. “I honestly don’t know, Jane,” he tells me. “I don’t even know what they all have, hopefully it’s just because her throat is raw from coughing,” he tells me, and I don’t feel reassured in the least. I don’t think Silas is even trying to be.

  He heads back to Ryan and gets him alert enough to accept a few more spoonfuls of broth before Ryan collapses back down. He shakes his head when Silas offers it to him again.

  I wipe Abby’s face once more and then head over to my mom with a fresh bowl of soup and a clean spoon. I’m relieved to see that she isn’t in the same shape as Abby. She’s a little better, more like Ryan, and I manage to rouse her long enough to get the entire half-cup into her.

  I head back to Silas, who’s collected the empty cups and spoons and has them bathing in the hot water that’s boiling over the fire. I sit down and he hands me my own cup of broth. “You too, Blondie,” he tells me when I start to shake my head.

  “I’m not really hungry,” I tell him, which is the truth. I’m so stressed out I don’t know if I’ll be able to eat until I know everyone’s going to be okay.

  “Eat it anyway,” Silas advises. “This isn’t about being hungry; it’s about keeping your body fueled so you can fight off whatever this bug is.” It makes sense so I don’t argue as I tip the cup back and force myself to drain the entire thing. It isn’t terrible tasting, maybe just a little salty.

  Mom starts coughing so hard that she can’t catch her breath and her face turns bright red. I rush over and try to help by rubbing her back. I don’t know what else to do. I feel so powerless. She coughs until she throws up all over the covers. I stare at the broth that I just spent the last fifteen minutes coaxing into her. I want to cry—but I don’t—mostly because there isn’t time for it right now.

  I strip the puke-covered blanket off the bed while Silas goes to grab me a new one from the hall closet. I slip the shirt off over my Mom’s head and replace it with a clean one from the drawer in the other room. It feels weird to be the one taking care of my parents like this... My dad doesn’t even wake up once during the whole thing, which is just as concerning. Silas returns with another heavy blanket and helps me tuck it over both of my parents. I don’t bother changing the sheets underneath the blanket. The puke didn’t have time to soak through, and I have a feeling we’re about to go through a lot of blankets before this thing runs its course.

  I never thought I’d hate being right, but I do. For the next two hours, my mom vomits every times she coughs. It happens once to Abby too, which is scary because she isn’t even conscious when she starts throwing up. Thank God for Silas, who is quick on his feet and runs over to roll her onto her side before she can choke on her own bile.

  Our supply of blankets in the linen closet is dwindling, and I’m feeling close to my whit’s end. We have no electricity, and that means no washer or dryer. We have plenty of firewood, but the room still isn’t warm enough that we can get by without blankets. Silas, of course, knows exactly how to deal with this. He and I pack buckets of snow inside and boil it until we’ve half-filled the bathtub. For probably the thousandth time since I met him, I am so grateful for Silas. I wouldn’t have had a clue how to do this myself—it wouldn’t have even occurred to me.

  We find some laundry soap and add it to the water. Then I roll up my sleeves and scrub the huge blankets by hand. It feels very Little House on the Prairie. Silas helps me ring them out, and when I would’ve hung them in front of the fire to dry, Silas shakes his head and instead carries them outside and throws them over the railing in the front of the cabin.

  “Are you sure that’s going to work?” I ask him skeptically, and he tiredly nods his head without even giving me a smartassed comment, which has me a little worried.

  “My parents used to freeze dry clothes all the time,” he tells me with a bitter smile on his face as he remembers back to a happier time. His fond memories are interrupted by another cough, and I wait, frozen in fear until the spasm ends. I have to fight off my urge to try and mother him. Silas is the type of person that won’t respond well to that kind of treatment.

  “How does it work?” I ask him instead, pretending like I didn’t just witness his coughing fit. He shoots me a grateful look and takes a small sip of water before he can speak again.

  “When it freezes, you go outside and shake all the ice off and then let them freeze again,” he tells me, his voice raspy. “It’s a lot faster, especially with the temperatures we have out there. It releases the moisture a lot quicker.”

  I think about his idea and it makes sense. If all the water turns to ice and you can just shake off the ice crystals, then it will be faster than waiting for the air to dry it. I also realize that my mom must’ve been doing laundry like this the whole time, and I’ve never once seen her do it. She must wait until we’re all out doing stuff—for me that’s chopping wood.

  I feel like I’d be helpless out here alone. I look around at all the people that have become my family over the last few months. They are all lying prone and sick in their beds, with the exception of Silas, and even he looks a little pale. I send out a fervent prayer that they will all be okay and I never have to find out what I’d do without any of them.

  I wake up to Silas shaking me, and my eyes pop open slowly, one at a time. “What?” I ask, and I can’t believe how gravelly my voice sounds. My throat feels really dry and scratchy. When I try and clear it, it hurts.

  “You’re burning up,” Silas tells me, pressing a cool cloth to my forehead, and I nod. My body feels like it’s on fire. “You need to get up off the floor,” he tells me, giving me a small shake again, and I look around blearily. I’m on the floor next to Abby’s bed. I must’ve nodded off and slid down onto the floor. Silas helps pick me up, and I groan as my entire bo
dy protests the action.

  “No,” I try and tell him, but Silas is ruthless as he makes me walk, half-carrying, half-dragging me towards the couch. We both collapse down into the cushions, breathing heavily, and I make myself focus on his face for the first time since he woke me up. Silas looks flushed as well, and his eyes are all glassy.

  I wobble back to my feet and grab a bottle of water and bring it to him. “Thanks,” Silas puffs as he takes a long drink and then offers the rest to me. I hesitate for a minute and he snorts humorlessly. “We both have the same disease,” he points out, and I know it’s true; there is nothing to be gained by trying to avoid his germs.

  “Go to sleep, Blondie. I’ll take care of you,” Silas promises after I’ve had a sip, and I feel him pulling a blanket up to my chin just as I slip into unconsciousness.

  The next time I’m shaken awake, it’s harder for me to fight my way to consciousness.

  “Jane?”

  The voice sounds panicked, and I force my eyes open using sheer willpower.

  “Silas?” I ask, staring up at the blurry shape before my eyes.

  “No, it’s Ryan,” the voice says, and a wave of panic slices through me. What happened to Silas?

  I blink several times and force myself to sit up from where I’ve fallen asleep hunched over on the couch. Finally, Ryan’s worried face comes into sharper view.

  “Is everyone okay?” I ask, and Ryan looks grim.

  “Everyone is still alive,” he says, and I can’t help but notice his strange phrasing. I grope for my water bottle and find it lodged against my ribs. I take a long sip of the room temperature water.

  “I need to get up,” I mumble as I struggle to move forward on the couch, and Ryan gently pushes me back.

  “You should rest,” he tells me, but I stubbornly shake my head. “The fire needs more wood,” I tell him, not even sure how long I’ve been out, but I remember Silas making me promise not to let it burn out.