Slow Fever

by Bushman, Leona

  “Trisha, please let go of me,” Rachel said quietly. “He’s going to be my dad as soon as I marry Jack. You know that’s all I’ve wanted since the third grade.”

  Trisha’s face contorted into an ugly mess of wrinkles and drool came out of her mouth as she spouted her venomous words. “Fine,” she said hatefully and threw Rachel’s arm back at her. “Just be another puppet to men and authority. I’m going to stand free.”

  Rachel turned her back and headed toward them, but Trevor began to move faster.

  “Girls, run here, now. Jack, the bow and arrows. Get both of them.”

  Who knew if the trainer bow would be strong enough to penetrate human flesh? At the very least, they could try for the eyes.

  He saw Karla look at his face, and her own eyes widened in the split second before she turned around. “Rachel! No. Go to Jack. I’ll try to get her.”

  Rachel’s eyes were streaming tears. “What’s wrong with Trevor? He looks funny. His skin is all wrong, his teeth look overlarge, and he has this, this... He’s staring at Trisha like Ruff looks at our breakfast. Hopeful and hungry.”

  Though she asked questions, and looked afraid, it relieved Sebastian to see she walked toward him. Not fast enough for his liking. Apparently, Jack felt the same way, for he dropped the main bow at his dad’s feet and moved toward Rachel while stringing an arrow on the line.

  “Get back, Trevor. What’s on your collar?” Jack challenged.

  Trevor’s eyes gleamed, and he laughed. “Lunch.”

  “How’d you drive up here if you’re so sick?” Sebastian asked, trying to get the boy’s attention on him.

  “I’m not sick. I feel better than ever. I can do anything I want, and no one can stop me.” He reached for Trisha, who, at the last second, realized the danger he posed.

  “Trevor,” her voice quaked out. “What are you doing?”

  “Getting my well-earned reward. I couldn’t believe my luck. With so many in town no longer fresh meat, you called out of the blue. And with news you knew where more were. I’m not sick. I’m Superman. I can do anything, be anything, kill anyone. And no one can stop me.”

  While Trisha stood transfixed at his words, Sebastian saw Trevor grab for her. Next to him, Jack let loose an arrow that stuck in Trevor’s hand.

  Trevor laughed.

  Chapter Eleven

  The hollowness in my chest barely gave a glimpse into the horror and fear clutching at my heart when Trevor laughed at being hit by an arrow. What kind of zombies laughed? Drove cars? It made no sense, but everything pointed to being zombies. Goddamned real life zombies.

  And one of them had driven straight into our encampment.

  How could I save them all—yes, including the annoying, spoiled twit of a teen who’d brought him? If we let off a bullet, how many more would find us? Would the guy in the jeep be back? Every instinct in me wanted to protect the girls and Jack from even witnessing this. And poor Trisha. Her parents…

  Then a new terror struck my heart. Would that be how we went out? Would we eat each other in a fit of zombie laughter and psychotic neurosis brought on by, for lack of better name, the zombie virus? I had to think of something. I had to save the people I loved.

  Then a new zombie trick revealed itself in Trevor.

  We were so screwed.

  Karla

  Karla had never heard a creepier thing in her life than Trevor’s laugh as the arrow hit his hand. He turned his head without turning his body.

  “Did you think a puny arrow would stop me?”

  She reached for Rachel, who grabbed for Trisha and yanked. Trisha resisted, pulling her hand out of Rachel’s, causing the latter to trip and fall into Karla. Trisha then backed away from all of them. Trevor laughed again and stalked Trisha. Jack let loose another arrow, which deflected off Trevor’s jacket. Sebastian shot an arrow which struck the deranged teen in the thigh. Nothing stopped him, and the eerie laughter echoed across the water, and the meadow clearing.

  “Trisha, what’s the matter? I’m the perfect man for you. I guarantee Mom and Dad wouldn’t have approved...if they were still alive. You’re the good girl, always looking for trouble. Mommy and Daddy give you everything, and it’s still not enough. You still go searching for men like me.”

  Chills ran down Karla’s back at his voice and words, but Trisha froze in her place.

  “Trisha, run!” all of them called urgently.

  The girl never even looked at them. Her eyes stared fixedly at Trevor. “Perfect man?” she echoed, as if none of the others were screaming for her.

  “Yes, Trisha. I’ll give you what you desire. You’ll live forever; just come with me now. Leave these puny ones and join with me.”

  Karla watched in horrified fascination as Trisha stepped toward Trevor. Now she was too close, and Jack and Seb couldn’t risk hitting her.

  “Trisha, he’s going to hurt you. He’s tricking you. Come here. Run from him while you can.”

  But Trisha took another step until she was in Trevor’s personal space. “I want to live forever,” she said in a fervor, a flush across her cheeks as if feverish.

  Trevor flipped a grin over his shoulder at them, then drew her in as if to kiss her, his arm around her waist. Karla’s hand flew to her mouth as he bit down on her face. Sebastian and Jack both let arrows fly once he did that. Gurgling laughter met their hits. Lower, Trevor grazed on Trisha’s body, biting and crunching on shoulders and chest as blood flowed. Multiple wounds oozed with Trisha’s ebbing life force. The sound of crepitus sickened her as much as the cut-off screams of Trisha.

  Jack had to stop shooting arrows and hold Rachel when she started screaming and crying for her friend and tried to run to her. Karla moved over, so she stood between the horror and the teens still living. She reached into the holster she’d put on in the morning and drew her forty-five. With no idea where the camouflage man in the Jeep was, she couldn’t fire it unless she absolutely had to.

  Trevor’s skin color only emphasized that they’d had good reason to feel afraid of the man they’d seen. The green-gray tint looked as if he were rotten meat, just like that other guy had looked to her. As she stood ready to fire, she saw Seb move a little over. Rachel’s sobs and Trevor’s chewing combined in a terrible cacophony which hurt her ears and her soul.

  Trevor kept gnawing on the body—surely Trisha had died? His arm remained behind the girl, holding her up for his feasting. The sounds of squishy liquid and flesh rent the air as he took another big bite.

  Sebastian carefully notched another arrow and slowly brought it up and waited. Soon Trevor bent again, this time to the stomach area. He ripped a huge chunk of flesh off with his teeth and started chewing, bits of skin flapping against his chin with each crunch.

  Karla grimaced as her stomach churned, but held her ground. She hoped Seb could kill it before it tired of Trisha and decided to move on to other prey. As if in a movie, Karla heard the twang as the arrow let fly. It caught up under the skull and made a loud crackling noise, followed by a squicking noise. Trevor’s body jerked, and he released Trisha, whose body remained upright. Then he fell backward with no sound or resistance. His face. Karla swallowed hard. It was covered in blood and gore bits which shone in the light.

  She heard Rachel scream again and turned to look. The young woman tried to fight her way out of Jack’s arms, but he held steadfast.

  “Rachel,” Karla said and turned her eyes back to Trisha to make sure there was no movement. “Think. Gray skin, flesh-eating, killed or hurt only when the brain is killed. What’s that sound like to you?”

  The young woman stopped mid-scream. “No,” Rachel croaked. “Oh my God.”

  In the meantime, Seb had cautiously moved forward and pulled an arrow out of Trevor, and notched it. Karla looked up in time to see the arrow fly at close range through Trisha’s eye socket. Seb grabbed another arrow and knelt as he quickly notched and let fly. Straight up Trisha’s nose. The girl fell forward, impaling the arrow to the feathers.
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  Karla wanted to run to Seb, but stayed put. Seb had grabbed another arrow out of Trevor and stood back with it notched, watching them closely. Rachel cried, and Jack soothed her as best he could.

  She had no idea how much time passed, but they stood there, vigilant, she and Seb. Finally, he nodded at her and backed up farther. He took the arrow and burned it in the fire.

  “Seb,” she said.

  “I know,” he replied.

  “Zombies,” the two teens said together.

  What in the hell were they supposed to do now?

  Chapter Twelve

  I hurt so much for Jack during this period. And for Rachel. The lessons learned that day in the meadow were ones easily kept. One of those lessons being the death of someone close to them.

  Karla used one of her gas cans to douse both bodies in the stuff. I know in my head that Jack and Rachel will be dealing with this soon. But however many days I can put it off, I will. I lit the fires that first time. I felt that it was my job as a man. I didn’t say that or I would have gotten an argument, but it is how I felt.

  While I watched the flames eat the arrows and the bodies, I had to wonder how many more were out there. Trisha’s Facebook post had said the whole town. How much of that was an exaggeration remained to be seen. Or do we have to? Could we conceivably stay up in the mountains—moving our site, of course—until whatever made everyone ill passed?

  I remember one of the first dates I had with Karla. We discussed someone eating someone else’s face in Florida. And how awful. But after a few weeks, it died down. Funny what you remember in a crisis. During that first “kill clean up” I would all of a sudden recall all sorts of news reports and online stuff that I had skeptically blown by but that now seemed like signs. The world had been so busy moving on and playing politics, we’d missed the obvious. An illness of some sort that manifested as cannibalistic carnivores and violent tendencies.

  Later, they would call it Slow Fever, and terms like “undead” and “zombies” would be played down and words like “diseases” and “vaccines” played up. But those of us who were hit—the people in the hottest areas were hit the hardest—we knew the truth.

  Zombies are real, and they are powerful and smart. Not dumb. They learned later that the virus had spread from the waterless soap and that it broke down in water. They also learned it needed heat to grow and mutate fast enough. And lucky Yakima, we had record-breaking heat during this time.

  Sorry. I’ve become cynical and a bit callous ever since my experiences. I’m trying not to let it color my tale as I write this. Even now, despite world leaders’ assurances, I don’t believe the worst is over. And, at that time, when we were burning the bodies of two teenagers, I didn’t see how it could get much worse. Adults would be easier. I wouldn’t have to deal with more kids, right?

  I really was the naïve man then, despite being a single dad.

  Sebastian

  Sebastian hated the knowledge that the world had just turned into an ugly place for his son and Rachel. Though he knew atrocities abounded all over the world, including Yakima, it just wasn’t the same as watching a zombie eat your friend.

  Did all parents go through this when they realized they couldn’t hide the ugliness from their children any longer? Now he had two kids to worry about. And decisions to make. Do they call her parents or not? If they had somehow gotten away and weren’t affected, they had to be frantic. But if they were affected, would it draw attention to them?

  Trevor had been living testimony that whatever the cause, it didn’t make people stupid—strange, and cannibalistic, but not stupid. He frowned. More than that. They had some sort of hypnotic powers. Trisha had been enthralled.

  For now, he’d suggest not calling Rachael’s parents until they’d regrouped and tried to put together more information. For once, he was glad that Jack had such good social networking skills. Perhaps they could figure something out.

  With sudden clarity, it hit him that he had to go back to Rimrock Retreat. If there were people there, they had to be warned about the dangers. Then again, maybe that had been why no one came out to see them. Maybe they’d all been holed up in bunkers and hiding from whatever threat this was.

  For a long time, he tried to make the decision for the group. Habit? Maybe. But eventually, he quit trying to take on the whole burden himself. Everyone was capable of contributing, and together, they would need to make the decision. Karla came over to stand by him and took his hand.

  “Can I help with anything?” she asked softly, as if afraid to speak aloud.

  “You have already. But before we make drastic moves, we need to talk. The four of us.”

  Karla nodded at him and went to get the two teens. The businessman in him felt like he should be making lists—pros and cons—and going about it in a like manner, but the rest of him felt as if it was a decision of the gut. That instincts had to play a part.

  For one thing, there were a lot of subtle signs, like the animals in the water all the time, that his subconscious may have picked up, but he’d dismissed or hadn’t thought of. And if the four of them were to talk it out, maybe more things would come to light.

  He walked over to his vehicle and waited. He couldn’t stand the acrid smell of human flesh and hair burning and was grateful the smell of gasoline helped smother it. Still, the queasiness wouldn’t leave him. He had to do something, get out of there. They all needed to.

  “Hey, son, Rachel, Karla. I think we need to make some decisions.”

  “I’m worried about my parents,” Rachel said.

  “Me too. What do you think you should do?”

  “Jack and I were talking, and I’m afraid to call them. What if they’re in hiding? Or if they’re already one of them? Either way, my call could cause problems.”

  How he hated that she had to think such thoughts and feel that level of fear he heard in her voice. Jack looked distressed and worried about the eyes, but otherwise wasn’t showing how he felt.

  “I think we need to go to Rimrock Retreat and warn people there. Then, after talking to those who are at Rimrock, we can decide if we’re going to stay in the mountains or head back to town. But I’m open to suggestions.”

  “I like your idea,” Karla chimed in. “However, I’d add that whatever we do, we take our supplies and the horses with us so we don’t lose anything to…to—”

  “Agreed,” he replied. “Jack, Rachel? Does that work for you?” Both of them looked startled that he’d asked, so he added, “You two are nearly adults. You’re both mature, and you have a stake in this. I want your opinions.”

  “I’m fine with what you decide,” Jack said.

  “Me too.”

  It didn’t take long to get the horses gathered into the trailers and the rest of their things packed up. His adrenalin spiked again as they worked, and he kept looking over his shoulder, half expecting to see Trish or Trevor rise up out of the flames and attack.

  They were ready before the fire finished burning. Sebastian knew it would be wrong to leave the fire going without someone caring for it despite his great wish to get moving. It would have been more wrong not staying until the impromptu cremation was finished.

  He swallowed hard as pieces of bones remained identifiable through the blackened ashes. His son and Rachel both lost whatever color left in their faces, the whiteness stark against their dark clothing. They stared until Seb finally threw some water on the last of the embers.

  Without speaking, they went to separate cars, the girls in one, the boys in the other, and headed back to Rimrock Retreat. Jack sat there silently, petting Ruff while holding the dog close as he used to when just a boy and afraid of thunderstorms, but unwilling to admit it. Inwardly, Seb cringed. This wasn’t something he could easily fix. No opening the closet door and proving the monster wasn’t in there.

  Without discussing it beforehand, they parked so they both could leave forward without trying to back up their respective trailers and cautiously stepped out. He�
��d debated whether to detach the ATVs, but decided against it since they’d still have the horse trailer.

  He checked out the building, a sense of unease slinking through him. The door to the general store stood ajar, the high pitched squeak eerie. He stared at the hinges as if transfixed, the sound ominous in his current state of mind. While he stood distracted, Ruff rushed in and started growling, then barking. Another dog answered.. And another. Even at this distance, the menace from the unknown dogs hit him. Seb grabbed his shotgun, and Karla grabbed her bow. Jack took a bow, and Rachel took a couple of knives. The two of them stood with their backs against the closest vehicle.

  Seb moved in first. Whatever had Ruff acting so uncharacteristically ferocious shoved worry through to his very marrow. And the other dogs as well. He hadn’t heard the dogs as he pulled up, but something had them barking and growling like their lives depended on it. Slowly, he moved in behind Ruff.

  In the seconds it took his eyes to adjust, he felt vulnerable. No sounds could be heard except a clicking noise. Once his vision adapted to the light, fear had his heart tripping over his throat in an effort to run off.

  Two large Dobermans stood in front of a long counter. Blood and saliva dripped from their mouths. Their mangy, dirty coats held bits and chunks of things he didn’t want to contemplate. The ribs of both dogs protruded out. When they saw him, a frenzy of barking and growls filled air.

  “Ruff,” he said and put his hand on the dog’s collar. “Come.”

  Ruff wouldn’t budge, just woofed and growled. Then, over the dogs’ ruckus, he heard another noise—that of breaking glass. “Karla,” he called as loudly as he dared. “I need your bow expertise. There are two dogs I can see, and they look in a bad way. Also, I heard glass shatter inside, and it wasn’t them.”

  Again, he tried to pull Ruff back, but the dog refused to give ground. Karla came and shared the doorway with him, and he backed up a little even though it meant losing his grip on Ruff’s collar, so she had room to string the arrow.