The Plague Box Set [Books 1-4]

by Jones, Isla

  The clothes on the racks were clean and crisp, calling out to me. But my growling stomach begged for other things. The soldiers guarded mountains of canned and bagged foods, and I was too apprehensive to ask for anything. Instead, I spotted a woman sitting alone, about the same age as me—twenty-one—sitting beside a table of stilettoes. Her curves pushed against the tight fabric of her yoga pants and singlet. And at her sneaker-clad feet were two tins of fruit.

  I decided to sit with her.

  Her sharp blue eyes flickered up at me as I approached. It was then I realised she wasn’t a brunette. Her glossy hair held tones of red, and I silently declared the colour to be auburn.

  In case you couldn’t tell already, I’m a hairdresser. Well … I had once been a hairdressing apprentice. But none of that matters anymore.

  The auburn-haired girl shadowed me with her wary gaze. Her jaw rolled slowly; she was chewing pieces of fruit.

  “Hi,” I said unsurely. “Mind if I …” My sentence trailed off and I gestured to the floor. She shrugged, sceptical, but not hostile. I sat across from her. “I’m Winter. This”—I motioned to the shaking dog on my lap—“is Cleo.”

  “Vicki,” she said. Her tone and eyes softened as she looked at Cleo. “Is she all right?”

  I smirked, dryly. “Would you be?”

  “I suppose not,” said Vicki. Her lips quirked, daring to smile. She handed over the half-eaten tin of fruit. “Here. It’s not much, but—”

  I didn’t mean to be rude, but I was starving. The last time I’d eaten before then … I couldn’t be sure—I think it was in a corner shop at the edge of the city. My hand shot out and snatched the open tin from her grasp.

  Mumbled words of gratitude were all I said before I fingered out a slice of pear and a chunk of peach. I offered both to Cleo; she chose the peach. I knew she would. We both preferred peaches, and both loathed pears. Though, in an apocalypse we ate pears whenever we found them.

  “When was the last time you’ve eaten?” asked Vicki. Her blue eyes—like jagged diamonds—darted between Cleo and me.

  “Few days ago,” I said through a mouthful of fruit. “We were in a corner shop a few blocks away. There wasn’t much left, but we found two chocolate bars and a can of lemonade.”

  Vicki licked her lips at the mention of lemonade. “Who’s we?”

  “Cleo and me.”

  “It’s just the two of you?” She looked over my shoulder as if she’d spot another new survivor, one that was with me, yet lurked behind the nightgowns.

  I scratched Cleo’s tummy affectionately. She curled up. “It’s just the two of us,” I said with a smile. “Since the start.”

  “That’s rough,” she said. “Being alone for that long.”

  I smiled tightly at her before I drank the juice from the tin. “I’ve seen others, but they either die before I can talk to them, or I’ve stayed away.”

  “Why?” she asked, baffled. “Why would you stay away?”

  My mind flooded with images; images worse than what the rotters had left me with. I repressed a shudder. “Not everyone is welcoming, you know,” I said. “I guess when we reach the end of the world, people don’t want to help others. They want to take from them.”

  A pensive expression washed over Vicki’s face. She nodded. Her gaze slewed to the soldiers a few racks away. “In that case, we’re lucky we found them.”

  For the most part, I agreed. But it was too early to be certain.

  “What’s their deal?” I asked, watching the soldiers slump around supplies, whispering to each other. Even for a group of survivors, they acted rather suspicious.

  “They’re good people,” she said. “I ran into them a few months ago. I’d been trapped in a gas station off a dirt road in the middle of nowhere.” A bitter smile pulled at her lips. they weren’t chapped like mine were. “They were passing by, and it was lucky for me. They stopped, looking for gas and engine oil. I figured they could help me, and I haven’t regretted it since.”

  There was a tightness in my stomach from her story. Maybe the group were worth sticking around with … at least for a while?

  I gave Cleo some of the fruit-juice. She lapped it up. “Why are you in the city?” I asked. “It’s not the safest place for a group this big to be.”

  “We were separated from the rest of the group,” she said. “We have to find them. We’ve been picking up survivors along the way.” She looked around at the twenty-odd people in the department store. “Most of us were in the original group.”

  “And the ones they got separated from? Where are they now?”

  She shrugged, and her blue eyes flickered back to mine. Her long, curved lashes lowered and shadowed against her plump cheek. “We have a meet-up point, and that’s where we’re going.” Vicki considered me for a moment, tucking a brown lock of hair behind her ear. “You’re in the city, too.”

  “I was kind of pushed in,” I answered honestly. “I got a car a while back at some cul-de-sac. Anyways, it lasted a while, but it broke down on the highway. I was planning on driving through the suburbs—you know, go around the city—but it didn’t work out so well. There was another group, one that I didn’t like the looks of. They went the way I was supposed to right before a herd of rotters came. I had no other option but to go into the city. I’ve just been moving ahead, street by street whenever I can.”

  Cleo finished the fruit-juice. I put the empty tin down.

  “I don’t mind,” I added. “It means I’m closer to Washington D.C.—That’s where my sister is. I was headed there with Cleo when it started.”

  “Bad timing for a road trip.”

  My gaze wandered to the soldiers. It’d been so long since I’d been around people. Needless to say, hope came with the sight of soldiers. The dark-haired one spoke quietly to the others, and I tried to read his lips. It was futile. I don’t know why I thought I could suddenly acquire a new skill.

  “Who’s he?”

  Vicki followed my gaze. “Leo,” she said. “He’s in charge right now.”

  “Right now? What do you mean?”

  “He’s the beta—the second in charge of the soldiers. They still take their ranking seriously,” she added, and I detected a hint of pride in her voice. “The alpha soldier is with the other half of the group. Leo is all right as long as you stay out of his way.”

  As though he heard his name, his dark green eyes shot up and met my own. Pond scum. His eyes were like pools of pond scum; an earthy green.

  Leo kept talking in low voices to the other soldiers, but our gazes remained locked. I caved first—I frowned and looked down at Cleo, who had fallen asleep on my lap. I hoped she didn’t pee on me again. I already reeked of urine and sweat.

  “So how long have you been in here?” I asked, distracting myself from Leo’s eyes. When I turned back to look at Vicki’s round face, the heat of Leo’s gaze burned into my cheek. “The shopping mall, I mean.”

  “Since last night,” she said. “We had to seek shelter. The streets were crawling with zombies.”

  I laughed. It was loud, abrupt and totally not on purpose.

  Vicki frowned curiously at me.

  My cheeks flushed. “Sorry,” I said. “It’s just … zombies?”

  “That’s what they are.” Vicki’s face hardened and she stared at the far wall. But the pink tinge on her cheeks gave away her embarrassment. “They eat flesh, they go mad trying to chow down on us. What else can we call them?”

  “They’re not dead, though,” I said. “Zombies are dead, I think. Besides, it’s the rabies strain that makes them all crazy like that. And they only eat us because they don’t know any better—they’re violent, they chase and catch us, and in their frenzy they just sort of … eat us.”

  “They,” she jerked her head toward the soldiers, “call them infectees. But whatever you want to call them, they took a few of us down. One soldier, and three survivors. We barricaded ourselves in here and we’re waiting it out.” She paused. “It’s be
tter now that you’re here.”

  My eyebrows shot up. I was surprised, I won’t lie. I hadn’t thought she’d liked me very much. And after I’d laughed at her use of the word ‘zombie’, I was certain she wanted nothing to do with me. But my confusion was wiped away the moment she spoke again.

  “If you hadn’t been an idiot—getting yourself trapped in the alleyway like that—then we’d be stuck here,” she said. “But now, the other side of the building will clear out faster. I imagine we’ll leave sooner than we’d first thought.”

  “You’re welcome.” There was a tinge of smugness to my voice. I straightened my back and raised my chin. My sister had always made fun of my chin—it was too pointed. I didn’t mind it so much. At least I didn’t have a butt-chin like my sister did.

  Vicki made to reply but stopped. She looked over to her left, and I followed her gaze. Leo was approaching. His eyes were fixed on me, and I don’t know why, but I felt a flip in my stomach. It wasn’t the sweet kind, reminiscent of butterflies that one only felt with a first crush. It was unnerving and anxiety-ridden.

  He dropped to one knee beside me. I swallowed, tasting the traces of fruit juice in my still-parched throat.

  “Hello.” The awkwardness in my squeaky voice had Vicki stifling a giggle. Leo didn’t return my greeting. Had my tone been rude? Had I made a face? Had I already messed up?

  I didn’t know. It had been months since I’d spoken to anyone.

  “You’re welcome to stay with us.” His voice wasn’t unkind, nor was it kind. It was just … neutral. “If you choose to stay,” he said, “there are rules. If you leave, we’ll give you a knife and two cans of food—”

  “I’ll stay.” I’d blurted out my reply before he’d even finished his sentence. I almost felt rude for interrupting him. “If it’s not an inconvenience,” I added, “I would like stay with your group for a while.”

  When he nodded, I felt a wave of relief wash over me. “For how long?” At my affronted expression, he explained; “You said ‘for a while’. How long will you be staying?”

  “That depends on where you’re going,” I said with a shrug. “I’m headed to Washington D.C. to find my sister.”

  Vicki leaned forward. “You know the chances of your sister still being alive are—”

  Leo silenced her with a sharp glare.

  “That’s where we’re going,” he said, turning back to study me. “Once we meet up with the others in our group, we’re headed to D.C.”

  Eyebrows raised almost to my hairline, I nodded. Either I was having a lucky streak, or I’d just stumbled into once of the last coincidences left in the world.

  “And the rules?” I said. “You said that if I stay there are rules.”

  “No firearms,” he said. “Civilians can carry weapons—knives, swords, machetes—but no guns of any kind, unless permitted by us.”

  “I don’t have any. I don’t even have a knife.”

  He plucked one from his holster and handed it to me. It was sharp and almost the length of my forearm. I took it and placed it on the floor beside me, but couldn’t tear my gaze from his—those pools of pond scum had me in a trance; and not a good one.

  He must’ve thought I was loopy.

  “Whatever we tell you to do, you will do it. Don’t question your orders, don’t backtalk, don’t hesitate. Understand?”

  I nodded and distractedly massaged Cleo’s shoulders.

  “We decide the rations,” he added. “That is not negotiable.” At this, he glanced down at the dog on my lap. “No extras for dogs. Whatever you get, you’ll have to share with it—”

  “Cleo,” I interrupted, bristled. “Her name is Cleo. Not it.”

  His eyes raised to meet mine, slowly. His jaw tightened, barely noticeable, but I saw it.

  “And your name?” he asked, his voice restrained, tightened.

  “Winter.”

  “Winter,” he echoed. “I don’t care if you bring it—” He paused before he corrected himself. “—Cleo. But if she runs off, we won’t waste time chasing after her or you. And keep her quiet. Barks, or in her case yaps, attract the infectees.”

  “She’s usually quiet,” I said.

  Leo paused to inhale through his nostrils. I don’t think he was quite used to being interrupted. Like I said, my social skills were a little on the rusty side.

  “Every civilian is permitted one bag to hold their possessions,” he said, composed. “We don’t have the space to accommodate more. That includes extra clothes you might want to carry, books and feminine products.” He rose to his feet and stared down at her. “Got it?”

  “Got it.” I’m a moron. I did the soldier-salute thing, and I can’t fathom why. I just…did it.

  He shot me an odd look, and I don’t blame him. Then, he turned his marble-like eyes away and stalked off.

  “Fucking hell,” I breathed, looking at a Vicki. “He’s intense.”

  Vicki didn’t say anything. She just looked at me, contemplating something. I don’t know what, and I didn’t ask. The unopened tin of food glinted and caught my eye.

  I realised, and my shoulders slumped; “I ate your rations, didn’t I?”

  Vicki glanced down at the tin, then at the empty one.

  “It’s all right,” she said. “They’ll give you one later. They’re handed out every morning and evening.”

  “I’ll pay you back,” I promised. Though, I was hoping she would dismiss it. She didn’t, and I deflated slightly. A part of me wanted to ask why she’d had two tins anyway. Leo had said that the rations were one—and only one at a time. Had Vicki been saving them up in her bag?

  A flash blinded me briefly. I blinked the blinding white away a few times before I realised one of the soldiers was flicking a flashlight on and off. He was summoning the survivors—and I suppose I was among them.

  One by one, survivors emerged from various spots all over the department store. Once they were all gathered, the blond soldier stood and addressed them. He was a burly guy, but his eyes were kind—they were soft brown, like sweetened honey. “We eat in an hour,” he said. “We’re staying here for the night. At dawn, we leave. Be ready or be left behind.”

  His gaze ran over the group until settling on Vicki. They shared a look for a moment, but when the group split up again to wander, they pulled their gazes apart.

  I wondered if the soldier meant what he said. He probably did. Stragglers tended to be left behind. There wasn’t much room for patience in the apocalypse. Then again, it wouldn’t be great to be the one left behind in a city full of feral rotters.

  I got to my feet, cradling Cleo against my chest. “I’m gonna go find a bag and change my clothes. Wanna come?”

  Vicki shook her head and rubbed her eyes. “I might sleep for a bit. Wake me up when the rations are given out?”

  “No problem,” I said. I made to wander around, but Vicki stopped me.

  “There’s a restroom over there,” she said, pointing in the general direction of the men’s footwear. “You might want to wash up. You have a little dirt on your face.”

  Instinctively, I touched my face.

  “Actually,” corrected Vicki, “you have a lot of dirt all over your face. And, no offence, but you smell like pee.”

  I laughed a little; she was right, and I knew it. I could smell myself—the dirt, sweat, grime, blood and Cleo’s waste. My freckles were buried under smears of dirt that coated my face, and lumps of my hair had matted together with dried blood. Even Cleo reeked. We were both in dire need of a wash. And honestly, I didn’t know when I would have another opportunity to clean myself.

  *

  I packed, then repacked, then repacked my bag. Flashlight, check; clothes and underwear, check; tampons and pads, triple check. I would need them soon, and Vicki had told me that they were valuable currency in the group. I took all the pads and tampons from the shelves in the staff backroom, and went as far as beating the metal box in the lavatory to get more. I even scored three tiny bottles
of perfume in that metal box.

  Cleo and I were dressed and ready to leave whenever the soldiers said so. I’d taken a few pairs of black jeans—they seemed more practical than the white ones I’d been wearing—and leggings for extra warmth, as well as a black t-shirt, a few singlets, and a woollen jumper.

  I used the knife Leo gave me to alter a onesie for new-borns. It was in the bag, ready for whenever Cleo would need it. I wasn’t one to dress up my dog before the apocalypse, but knowing that we’d be travelling to Washington D.C., it seemed called for. The weather in the East was much too cold for Cleo not to wear an extra layer.

  The knife was tucked safely in my new pair of boots, between the leather skin and woollen socks I wore. All in all, I was better prepared for the journey.

  Vicki zipped up her bag after I handed her my breakfast tin of baked beans. I figured I could buy more food later when the tampons I had were in demand. Until then, Cleo and I had to go hungry. But that wasn’t new to us.

  The blond soldier—Mac—checked the window that looked out onto my alleyway.

  Rotters still swarmed it. Apparently that was a good thing, because we were leaving through a window on the other side of the building. Two other soldiers had already gone out there to clear it of any stray rotters. Vicki told me that there’d been almost a hundred of them down there the day before. But then I came along and lured a chunk of them into the other alleyway.

  At least my terror-induced screams hadn’t been for nothing.

  When Leo made the signal, we all slung our bags over our shoulders and followed him to the window. I pushed to the front of the crowd, shadowing Vicki, and peered out of the window. The alleyway was empty, save for the two soldiers and a small pile of unmoving rotters. I counted five of them. My eyes widened—two people taking on five rotters in a confined space was impressive. And even from above, I could see that the dead rotters were young; they’d been teenagers when they contracted the virus. That made them fast, it made them too fast and strong to battle in an alleyway.

  The overwhelming urge to stick with the group forever suddenly took me. Is that my weakness, I wonder? Am I fragile and afraid? Or am I merely mortal and aware?