by Perrin Briar
Dana wasn’t sure about leaving their prize behind. They had risked their lives for Debbie. Multiple times. They didn’t want to lose her now. But Swatter had his shotgun resting on his shoulder, a distant smile on his face, and Dana supposed there wasn’t much they couldn’t do to them if they wanted at this point.
Swatter led them into the next room, what had been a private hospital room.
“Well?” Swatter said. “How did you get in here?”
“As he said,” Dana said. “The building fell and we climbed it.”
“We didn’t seen anyone climbing it,” Swatter said.
“That’s because we climbed it from the inside,” Dana said.
Swatter nodded.
“That’ll about explain it,” he said.
He scratched his chin with his shotgun. He nodded toward the open door, in Debbie’s direction.
“What’s wrong with her?” he said.
“She’s dehydrated,” Dana said. “She might be in a coma. We don’t know. But she is in dire need of an IV drip. That’s why we’re here. To get it for her.”
“Was she bit?” Swatter said.
“No,” Dana said. “She’s uninfected.”
“And you?” Swatter said. “Were you bit?”
He eyed the bandages on their person as he asked.
“Yes,” Dana said. “Twice, actually. But still alive and kicking.”
“You don’t look to be up to doing too much kicking to me,” Swatter said.
“Appearances can be deceiving,” Dana said.
Swatter pursed his lips at that.
“Ain’t that the truth,” he said. “You’re alive. I’ll go with that. For now. How long before you turn? We ain’t seen none of the others take much less than a few hours.”
“We’re Resistant,” Dana said. “Means we might turn at some point, we don’t know when. If ever.”
Swatter stepped up close and peered into Dana’s eyes. He was as tall as her, though a six years younger. He had a big mop of what looked in the half-light to be sandy-colored hair, in a bowl style. He might be related to a gargoyle somewhere in the past. He pursed his lips before cocking his head to one side and lowering his weapon.
“In truth, I already know you’re telling the truth,” Swatter said. “You don’t much act like Dougie, but then, nobody did much. And the grey skin. It’s very distinctive.”
“You’ve got someone like us?” Hugo said. “A Resistant?”
“I’m not sure I’d call him Resistant,” Swatter said. “But yes, he was bitten and hasn’t turned. Not completely, anyway.”
“We need to get Debbie on a drip now,” Dana said.
“It’s already done,” Swatter said. “The others have already taken Debbie and administered the IV drip. I just wanted to ask you a few questions. I don’t know if she’ll get better or not. We don’t see many her age, and in her condition to boot. But maybe she’ll recover. We’ll just have to see what happens.”
Swatter moved for the door. Dana couldn’t resist darting a look toward the entrance. The undead were being dragged by the kids to the windows and tossed out.
“You can stay for a couple of days,” Swatter said. “No longer. I don’t know what trouble might be on your tail, but we don’t want no part of it.”
“We don’t want to stay longer than that,” Dana said. “We’ll be out of your hair by then.”
Swatter might look a bit different, but he and Dana were essentially cut from the same cloth. A tough upbringing and difficult relationship with adults. But at their core was honesty and kindness… If you could just get past their defenses.
Swatter led them down a corridor that seemed to stretch to infinity.
“Why did you remove all the medical supplies from the treatment rooms in the other wards?” Dana said.
“Something to bargain with,” Swatter said. “When law and order completely breaks down, when money doesn’t matter anymore, what will people trade with? Supplies. We’ll run out of food and water, then we’ll need to survive somehow.”
Swatter put his hand to a door and began to push it open. Then he stopped, hesitating.
“I have one more question,” Swatter said. “Who is the woman? What makes her so valuable to you that you would risk your lives to bring her here?”
“I don’t know who she is,” Dana said. “I don’t know where she comes from. I don’t know anything about her, and that’s the truth. Except her name is Debbie, at least that’s what her name tag says. She knows where my sister was taken. That’s why we brought her here.”
“Your sister?” Swatter said.
“My little sister, Max,” Dana said.
It almost hurt to say her name. She felt a thousand miles away. For all she knew, she was.
“She was taken by soldiers,” Dana said. “We’ve been on their trail ever since. We found Debbie where the soldiers were last, at the university. But we don’t know where they’ve gone now. She’s our only hope of finding them.”
Swatter nodded.
“Your sister is lucky,” he said.
“How do you figure that?” Dana said.
“For having someone like you to look out for her,” Swatter said.
He had shown his vulnerable side, and for a moment the weight of responsibility that pressed upon his shoulders lifted. Then his brow drew down, back to its customary scowl.
“Let’s check on your old lady, shall we?” he said.
Chapter Thirty
A LITTLE GIRL with blonde hair and green eyes ran, ran for her life, for her existence, for everything she loved. She cast looks over her shoulders at the monster that chased her, hot on her heels. She was little, and her legs had no chance of escape.
The monster could smell the young girl’s sweet aroma, could taste her youth. The aromas sent the monster into a snarling craze, angry and hungry for her blood and flesh.
The little girl tripped, falling in a heap, and the monster knew then it would feed upon her. There was no escape, not forever. It fell upon her and bit deep into the soft flesh of her neck, burying its teeth to the bone. The monster’s eyes rolled back in its skull. She was delicious.
The monster had no way of knowing the little girl’s flesh would taste no more or less sweet than any other victim. She just fed the hunger, for a short time. The hunger would never be sated, would never be quenched. And the monster would always be on the hunt for the next sweet bite, the next meal.
The little girl’s body began to quiver. She got to her little pink-shoed feet, her neck twisted at an unnatural angle, hair stained red by leaked lifeblood. The figure began to turn, and just when the monster was about to see the little girl’s face, her new undead face…
“Dana!” Hugo said. “Dana! Wake up! Get up!”
“Ngh?” Dana said, shooting up into a sitting position. “What is it? Christmas?”
“No,” Hugo said. “But you’re going to think it is! It’s Debbie! She’s awake! She’s awake!”
Hugo hurried out of the room, unable to contain his excitement.
Dana tossed aside her blankets. She had slept better than she had in years. Seeing your life flash in front of your eyes a few times is likely to have that effect, she supposed.
She slipped her legs over the side of the bed and began to get dressed. She stomped on her boots and tucked in the laces, before thinking better of it. These days were not kind to the lazy.
She got to the door. She held out a hand, bracing herself against the doorframe. She shuddered into her bones. She leaned against the door.
The little girl in her dreams had been Max—it was always Max. She had been running from a monster, a monster intent on feeding upon her blood. And it had caught her, biting into her.
Dana could recall the sweet tang of her blood on her lips, the warmth that ran down her throat, and the delicious feel of the little body struggling underneath her own weight…
Max had been caught by the monster. The monster had been Dana.
Ch
apter Thirty-One
DANA FLOATED down the pristine corridors like she were still in her dream. She stopped at the door leading to Debbie’s private hospital room. She took a moment to regain her breath. This was it.
This was the moment she would discover Max’s location and she could finally go rescue her. She allowed herself a small smile. It had all been worth it.
Dana was surprised to find Debbie sat up in bed. She looked weak, like she wanted to close her eyes again and go back to sleep. She had a drip attached to her arm and, judging by the near-emptiness of the bag, quite a bit of fluid had gone into her.
It was more than a little surreal for Dana to see this woman functioning under her own steam. During their entire adventure Debbie had been an unconscious lump they dragged across town. Now, she was a real person.
“Good to see you awake,” Dana said.
It was hard not to blurt out the barrage of questions dancing at the forefront of her mind. They were all she had been thinking about for so long.
“You must be Dana,” Debbie said. “Hugo has told me all about you, and everything you did to get me here.”
Dana just smiled in reply, willing herself to be patient.
Debbie fiddled with the wedding band on her finger. A little life had brought a sparkle to Debbie’s cheeks. Good feelings stole over Dana, a reward perhaps, for saving another’s life.
“You want to know about your sister, Max,” Debbie said.
“I want to know anything you can tell me,” Dana said. “Anything you can remember.”
Debbie frowned.
“It’s difficult for me to recall everything in detail,” she said. “I remember my husband… He died early on. Soon after the outbreak. I had to…”
She shook her head.
“Had to do things no wife should have to do with her husband,” she said. “Especially not after so many years of marriage.”
Dana squeezed her hand, gave her a comforting smile.
“So when I saw soldiers, it seemed like a good idea to go with them,” Debbie said. “You know, men with guns. They looked safe. Something to cling to. They said they were going to take us somewhere safe, to the university, to take part in something called the Eden Project. Women, mostly. Many younger than me. The soldiers were nice enough, though not great with giving us information.
“I got one talking, flirting a bit. He said something about ‘protecting the population’ and ‘starting again’. He leered at me and said he was looking forward to doing his part with me. I hadn’t signed up for anything of the sort, and wasn’t about to do what he wanted me to then.”
She shivered at the memory, and then a smile spread across her face.
“That was when I met your sister, Max,” she said. “She was sweet, but strong, too. Like you.”
Dana gave a small laugh, excited just to hear Max spoken of so recently.
“That sounds like her, all right,” she said.
“Things changed just after that,” Debbie said. “The soldiers were busier, and we heard more shooting, explosions. They said they had cleared the area of the undead before we got there, but I think they just kept coming back.
“Then they took us down to the basement, for safety, they said. Locked us in this big room. There were lights on, so it didn’t seem so bad at first. A couple of the others had been hurt, bleeding. It wasn’t long before they started to turn.
“We banged on the door, pleading for them to let us out, but no one came. Maybe they really did think they were protecting us. I don’t know. I think they left as soon as they locked us down there.
“Then the lights went out, and that’s when the real screaming started. I managed to find a set of pipes sticking out of the wall, and crawled in behind them. The noise, the screams, the crying… It just went on and on.”
“And Max…” Dana said, her heart in her dry throat. “Was she among them?”
“No,” Debbie said.
Dana breathed a sigh of relief.
“You said you knew where Max was,” Dana said. “Where did they take her?”
“There were so many of us,” Debbie said. “And the people started turning so fast.”
“Yes,” Dana said. “I know it must have been terrible. You said you knew about Max. Where is she?”
Debbie’s eyes began to fill. She reached for Dana’s hand.
“I… I’m not sure,” Debbie said. “She could be in a number of places…”
Dana snatched her hand back
“Which places?” Dana said, her eyes burning fiery pits now. “Where?”
“I… I don’t know,” Debbie said.
“We risked our lives for you!” Dana said. “Where is my sister?”
“I didn’t think you would help me if I said I didn’t know,” Debbie said. “You wouldn’t have, would you? If I said I didn’t know.”
Dana grabbed the woman by the shoulders and shook her.
“You must know more!” she said. “You must!”
“I’m sorry,” Debbie said. “I don’t know…”
“You lying bitch!” Dana said. “You can’t do this to me! You can’t do this!”
She raised her hand to bring it across Debbie’s face. Hugo wrapped his arms around Dana in a bearhug. Dana threw her head back and smacked his nose, but Hugo didn’t let go. He carried Dana toward the door.
“Do you have any idea what we’ve been through to save your worthless lying ass?” Dana screamed. “We risked everything! Just to save you! And the whole time, you knew nothing!”
By now, Dana’s outburst had garnered the attention of Swatter’s entire motley crew.
“I’m going to kill you!” Dana screamed. “I’m going to tear you to pieces! I’ll kill you!”
“I’m sorry!” Debbie cried out loud. “I’m sorry!”
Sorry meant nothing. Max was gone, and she was even farther away from Dana because she had wasted her time in rescuing this useless sack of shit. Dana’s rage was real, ready for retribution.
There was indeed a monster inside Dana, and it had lay dormant for years, expressing itself only in a handful of minor juvenile offences, but all the while it had been gearing up for a moment like this to trigger, to expose itself, where it could finally rise from the depths of Dana’s soul and rip her enemies to pieces.
Someone was going to pay. And they were going to pay big time.
Chapter Thirty-Two
WITH SO MUCH EVIL in the world, it was refreshing to see people, in this case, little people, coming and working together. They worked well as a team.
If they were a family, their unquestioned father was Swatter. Tall and stout with a heavy raincoat that reached down to his even heavier boots, he was the personification of strength. He had a square chin and scarred face. The kind you hoped you never ran into in a darkened alley one night.
Swatter waved his arms like an orchestral conductor, commanding the children to do his bidding. They followed, unquestioning, unerring. These little people had achieved what much of the rest of the world had not. They had a system, and it worked.
Say what you like about dictatorships, but at least everyone knew their part and how to play it. That was their success.
Hugo had traversed Seattle during the immediate aftermath of the outbreak. He had seen the mess that had been stirred up. The army fought the undead, the undead consumed everything they came across. And underneath all these feet were the survivors. The ones playing the long game.
The undead roved from place to place, heading in whichever direction their aching stomachs took them. And there was nothing anyone could do about it.
The survivors were running scared. They were not well organized nor prepared for this event. They did not know what they were supposed to do. They were doomed. They had been the first to go.
Was it any surprise people turned to people like Swatter in their hour of need? Turned to towering figures of strength and honor? Not to Hugo’s mind it wasn’t. He could only imagine the kind of leaders r
ising in the ranks elsewhere in the world.
When Swatter had finished handing out orders, the kids scattered to carry them out. A few stayed behind, armed with questions on specifics. Swatter either answered them quickly himself or referred them to someone else who would answer them for him.
One of the kids came with a list scrawled on a piece of paper. What Hugo knew to be the list of items from the food storage cabinet. Swatter scanned the document, taking his time. He wasn’t a fast reader.
Then he looked up, his eyes finding Hugo. Swatter made a small comment and then handed the document back to the kid, who still looked concerned.
Hugo knew then they were in trouble. It hadn’t been the first time Swatter had looked at him like that.
It had only been a few days since the world had leaped off the highest building it could find and taken a nosedive into the tarmac. Where everyone else had struggled to get by, these kids stood strong. They knew what to do.
These kids were orphans. They had known hardship. They had no loving family to take care of them, no support, nor anything to sustain them in the long term. They were the forgotten, unwanted children of society. Now, that status was paying dividends.
Swatter turned away from the kids. He scanned the hospital wing they occupied, hands on his hips. He nodded to himself at the success they were having. Then he turned and fixed his gaze upon Hugo. He sighed, his large muscular shoulders relaxing. He walked toward him.
Hugo affixed a fake smile to his face. He couldn’t pretend he was glad to see Swatter approach. Every time he did he was reminded of the bullies who made his life a living hell at school most of his life. That casual sway of confidence and superiority. Hugo, despite his advanced years in comparison to Swatter, couldn’t help but shrink a little bit.
Hugo decided to take the initiative and speak first.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you,” Hugo said.
“What?” Swatter said.
“What happened to the carers and doctors here?” Hugo said.