by Kody Boye
“Which meant he was up the whole night,” Steve said. “Which means—”
“That he either couldn’t get drowsy, or refused to.”
“A normal person needs sleep,” Rose said. “Especially a normal sick person.”
“Maybe he’s just adapting,” Jamie shrugged. “I mean… he’s got a new strain of blood running through him.”
“He’s changing, Jamie.”
“What’re you—”
Rose’s gaze silenced him instantaneously. “His skin is a darker shade than it was when he left the other day,” she said. “He’s turning into one of those… things.”
“You mean the plant walkers?” Steve asked, to which Rose nodded before turning her attention back to the door, likely to watch for prying eyes and listening ears.
“Yeah. I mean the plant walkers.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Jamie said. “I mean… come on. His skin’s just dark because he’s sick. It doesn’t mean it’s because he’s turning into—”
“I think it’s time to accept that what she did to Erik might only be temporary,” Dakota said.
He gripped Jamie—tighter than ever before—and held him against his body, refusing to let him go even though Jamie’s stiffened muscles implied that he might move. When he tried to, Dakota tightened his grip even more and held him in place, refusing to allow Jamie to sit up by using his weight to hold him in place.
“Jamie—”
“I’m not giving up on him that easy, Koda.”
“It’s not giving up on him,” Rose said. “It’s accepting the fact that this is actually happening.”
“But enough of this,” Steve said, setting a hand on Jamie’s shoulder. “Regardless of whatever is going to happen, we at least got more time—and, hopefully, something that’ll help change the world.”
“I don’t want him to die,” Jamie said, bowing his face into Dakota’s neck and letting out a long, low sob. “He’s my best friend, guys. I don’t want him to die.”
“I know you don’t,” Dakota said, stroking Jamie’s hair. “Neither do I.”
“It’s just… we’ve never been apart. Ever. And to think that it’s going to happen soon, when it shouldn’t even be like this, is like… like…” Jamie exhaled a trembling sigh. “It’s like I’m losing a part of myself through him.”
“I think we all feel like that, in a way,” Steve said. “I’ve known Erik almost since this all began, and the idea of losing him now, after everything we’ve gone through, is just… mind-baffling.” He raised his head to look at Rose. “I think you’d agree too, right? From the short amount of time you spent with Erik?”
“Erik doesn’t deserve to die like this,” Rose said.
Jamie sobbed.
Dakota held him close.
There was no denying what was happening.
If Erik was going downhill, then there was nothing they could do.
Erik began throwing up blood the next morning.
Though he refused to admit it upon sitting down with them that morning at breakfast, the fact that he vomited shortly after sitting down was indication enough that he was getting sick.
“Keep away from me,” Erik managed as Jamie approached, holding a bloody hand out to keep the taller man at bay. “I don’t want you to see me like this.”
“I’m with you regardless of whatever happens,” Jamie said, crouching down beside his best friend and placing a hand on his back. “Try and breathe through it, ok? Just like our moms taught us growing up.”
Erik retched—long and hard—before another thick and viscous string of blood bubbled from between his lips.
It was almost unbearable to watch.
Having lost his appetite not from the sight, but the realization that he had been right all along, Dakota pushed his serving of food away from him and watched as, from the entryway to the cafeteria, Lydia appeared, shortly followed by Doctor Hernandez. Apparently, they’d been keeping a close eye on Erik.
“We need to get him to the stretcher,” Doctor Hernandez said, reaching down to help Erik to his feet. “We need—”
Erik vomited.
A spray of blood impacted with Doctor Hernandez’ face.
She screamed.
Lydia tried to push him away.
Erik vomited all over her.
It happened in but an instant.
One moment Erik was Erik, the next he was snarling and ripping into Doctor Hernandez’ neck.
Rose went flying from the table.
Dakota grabbed the tail of Jamie’s shirt and pulled.
They both went sailing to the ground.
Steve, gun drawn, fired a shot directly into the assistant’s head. Brain and blood matter exploded outward as Erik continued to tear into Doctor Hernandez’ carotid.
“Erik?” Jamie asked, trembling, tears in his eyes as his best friend followed Doctor Hernandez to the floor. “Erik. Please. Listen to me.”
His best friend looked up and snarled.
Dakota’s heart broke the moment he saw the flesh between Erik’s teeth.
Though Erik made no move to launch himself from Doctor Hernandez’ twitching body, it was Steve who stepped from around the table to pass the gun into Jamie’s hand. “He wouldn’t want to be like this,” he said.
“I didn’t even get to say goodbye,” Jamie replied, closing his eyes.
“Do it now, then.”
Jamie lifted the gun and aimed it at Erik’s face. “I’m sorry,” he said, then closed his eyes. “I love you, buddy.”
The gun fired.
Erik went down.
Doctor Hernandez’ body jerked with reanimation.
Rose slammed her baseball bat into the woman’s face and ended her before she could rise.
Everyone in the room sat, stunned over what had just occurred.
Three people had died in less than two minutes.
One moment Erik had been fine, the next…
Jamie fell to his knees and wailed.
All Dakota could do was crouch down, take the man into his arms, and mourn with him.
Chapter 8
“Maybe we’re cursed,” Jamie said as they drove away from Boise Idaho, idly toying with the dogtag that had been hanging from Erik’s neck no more than a few hours beforehand. His voice was blank and his eyes devoid of emotion, their clarity lost in the road ahead as in the passenger seat he watched the world go by. Steve—who had been driving—turned to regard him briefly before returning his attention to the road, but not before Dakota caught the sadness and frustration upon Jamie’s face.
“Why do you say we’re cursed?” Rose asked.
“Because everyone around us dies,” Jamie said. “Or, at least, everyone around me.”
“Don’t say that,” Dakota said, reaching forward to take Jamie’s hand.
Jamie shied away from his touch, to the point where Dakota couldn’t even press his hand over the top of Jamie’s wrist. “I’m half of the mind that I should just take my gun and blow my head off so I don’t have to see you turn, Dakota.”
“I’m not going to turn, Jamie. You know that.”
“No. I don’t.”
No one said anything. Rose—who had been listening to the conversation intently but not participating likely out of respect for Jamie’s feelings—leaned forward and set a hand on the man’s arm. He immediately jerked, but soon settled after he realized it was only one of his companions. “Look,” she said, tightening her hold on his wrist. “Nobody’s going to kill themselves over this—especially not you. Can you imagine what that would do to Dakota?”
“I’d be devastated,” Dakota agreed. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Jamie from behind. The seat, hindering him, allowed him only to place his hands on Jamie’s collarbones, but it was enough. “I can only imagine what you must be going through,” he continued, bowing his head against the back of the seat. “I’d be a wreck if something were to happen to Steve. But we can’t start thinking that the world’s going to
cave in on us. We need to keep fighting, especially given what all we’ve been through.”
“It seems like that entire trip was all for nothing,” Jamie said.
“Maybe it was,” Dakota said. “Or maybe it wasn’t. Maybe that trip was meant to happen.”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because Erik could’ve turned in that house,” Rose said, “in Rigby, where you grew up, where you hung out, where you and he discussed any and everything and shared your deepest, darkest secrets, and you would’ve had to shoot him in it. You think you would’ve been able to stay there if you did?”
“No,” Jamie said, then swallowed.
“Then there’s nothing more you can do. Just know that, in his final moments, he was loved. You did what a lot of people were never able to do by setting him free, Jamie. You should be proud of that.”
“I’m trying to be.”
Jamie reached up and pressed a hand over Dakota’s.
Dakota, in response, laced their fingers together.
Though there was nothing he could do to ease Jamie’s sorrows, he knew his presence was healing. That was something he could not even begin to comprehend.
The truck died when they were no more than two hours away from Rigby, in a location known as Hell’s Half Acre. Even in the winter it was a desolate plain—covered in lava rock for as far as the eye could see, extending from one horizon to another without cause or break.
Poised along the outskirts of the Idaho highway, trying desperately to maintain a tire that had no replacement, Steve rose and swore with the wrench set between his teeth. “Well,” he said, reaching up to remove the tool from between his jaws. “We’re fucked.”
“There’s no spare?” Jamie asked, his voice dull and without emotion.
“There’s no spare,” Steve sighed. “Which means that we’re going to have to hoof it the rest of the way.”
“And in the middle of winter no less,” Rose sighed, pulling her coat tighter around her. She looked up at the inside of the truck and then at the expanse of land in the near distance, her eyes dancing from one field of view to another. “Knowing our luck, we wouldn’t even be able to reach a visitor’s center by the time night fell.”
“It’d be hell trying to navigate those hills,” Steve said, pointing toward an exposed section of lava rock just off the highway. “Especially in all this snow.”
“Besides,” Jamie added. “We might stumble across hibernating rattlesnakes.”
“The highway might be our best shot then,” Dakota sighed, reaching up to run a hand through his frost-covered hair. “At least on the road we can try and smuggle our way into one of the downed vehicles.”
“You mean the ones that don’t have corpses in them?”
Dakota shivered. They’d passed a few of those derelict cars along the road—idled either by situations like theirs or from the unfortunate aspect of fate. In some corpses had struggled, reaching out from behind closed windows as they’d passed in the big red truck. Some of them hadn’t even resembled humans anymore, so melted they’d been by the summer’s heat.
“So,” Dakota said, looking from his group, to the stretch of land covered by lava rock, then to the highway that continued along the horizon. “We need to decide what we’re doing.”
“I vote highway,” Rose said.
“I vote the rocks,” Steve said.
“Why?”
“Because if it starts snowing, we could always take shelter in a hollow spot.”
“The four of us? Really? And potentially with rattlesnakes?”
“I vote we follow the road until we are able to see a rest stop in the distance,” Dakota said, “and then make our way toward it. I mean, even if they just have bathrooms, we could hole up in one of them for the night.”
“Jamie?” Rose asked. “What about you?”
“I vote we just keep going,” he said. “And see what we find.”
His answer, vague as it was, gave no indication as to which path he wanted to take.
“Jamie,” Rose sighed.
“Don’t,” Dakota said. “Let’s just… keep walking along the road. At least if we’re near the highway we’ll have a general idea of where we’re going.”
Though Jamie offered little in response, Steve and Rose eventually agreed.
They began walking without another word.
Flashlights were drawn as dusk turned to night. Along the stretch of highway they continued to walk, making their way through the perpetually-frozen landscape as around them the temperature continued to plummet. Their breaths were beginning to be seen on the air and with it the realization that it might get below freezing became all the more clear.
“We need to keep going,” Dakota said through chattering teeth, trying his hardest to remain strong in the face of such horrible adversity.
“We should find a spot to hunker down for the night,” Jamie said, rubbing his arms through the sleeves of his sweatshirt. “We’re going to end up freezing to death if we keep going.”
“Where do we settle down, Jamie?”
“I—” The man paused, then shook his head. “I don’t know,” he then said. “I just think—”
He trailed off then. His flashlight trailed along the highway until it keep to a stretch of gravel road that led off into the near distance. “That,” he said, pausing, his brows furrowing in contemplation.
“What is it?” Dakota asked, drawing up alongside his partner.
“That road,” Jamie said, waving the flashlight along its curve and then eventual disappearance behind a hill. “I think that’s where the visitor’s center is.”
“You mean behind that hill?” Steve asked.
Jamie nodded. “We used to go there on school trips when we were kids,” he said, taking a step off the road and toward the road that was nearly invisible underneath the snow. “It’s insulated on the inside—like a museum—and might even have a souvenir stand with blankets or snack foods.”
“I am getting kind of hungry,” Steve said, his stomach rumbling soon after. “You think we could make it there within the next hour or so?”
“I think we could make it there within half an hour if we start walking now,” Jamie said.
“Is it safe though?” Rose asked. “I mean… is it somewhere that someone else might’ve chosen to hide out in?”
“I don’t see why they would’ve. It’s too far away from civilization for it to be a convenient drive, so unless they loaded up and made their way out here…” Jamie trailed off. He stopped midstride and raised a hand to bring them to a halt. “You guys hear that?”
“Hear what?” Rose asked.
“That,” Jamie said.
It sounded like the rev of an engine—stark, recognizable, earsplitting in the darkness of an eerily-quiet night. The tearing noise it made was enough to make the hairs on Dakota’s neck stand on end.
“Was that coming from up the road,” Rose said, “or near where you said the visitor’s center was?”
“Visitor’s center,” Jamie said. He lowered his flashlight and flipped it off. “Follow my lead.”
Steve lowered his flashlight, extinguished its bulb, and began to follow Jamie as they left the road and began to head toward the gravel turnoff that would eventually lead to the park’s recreational center. Dakota and Rose followed suit—guns drawn, eyes scanning the distant horizon for lights or movement. Dakota heard the rev of an engine again and then swore he could hear gravel tearing underfoot, but wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination or his hearing hyper-sensitizing due to the adrenaline coursing through his veins.
Finally it appeared on the horizon: a pair of twin globes that cut through the night like a knife through sweet butter.
Jamie, as though taking the greatest risk of his life, raised his flashlight and flashed it three times in the direction of the vehicle. S.O.S.
He waited a moment, then repeated the gesture once more.
The vehicle—which, until that moment, had been mo
ving at a steady pace—slowed until it came to a complete standstill. Shortly thereafter, the car stopped, the lights dimmed, a door opened and then closed. “Either there’s someone out there,” a voice said, directing his words in their direction, “or the coyotes have learned how to use flashlights.”
“There’s people,” Jamie said, then cleared his throat before yelling, “My name’s Jamie Marks! I was with the United States Army before the collapse of the US government! We’re seeking shelter on this cold night. Do you have any you’d be willing to provide?”
“You’re more than welcome to come to the recreational center!” the man called. “We were just about to head down to the nearby farmhouses to see if we could scrounge up some supplies, so it’d just be the… what… four… of you until we got back.”
“We’d be more than happy to join you,” Jamie said.
Dakota turned to look at his boyfriend as the door closed and the vehicle revved to life before turning out onto the flat land to greet them.
The first smile of the day was plastered on Jamie’s sad and lonely face.
“You think this is a good idea?” Rose asked, narrowing her eyes at the vehicle as it continued to approach.
“I don’t think we have much choice in the matter,” Steve replied. “They’re already coming our way. And besides—we need shelter. We’re going to end up freezing to death if we don’t get inside somewhere.”
“I guess.”
The sigh that passed from Rose’s lips was enough to make Dakota uneasy. Though he was more than willing to persevere through the weather regardless of how cold it was getting, he couldn’t deny that he would love to be inside—where he could not only be warm, but free of his heavy, snow-soaked jacket and between four walls.
The car approached and then came to a stop as the man in the driver’s seat gestured them forward. “Hop on in the back,” he said, “and we’ll take you to the recreation center.”
“Is it well-fortified?” Jamie asked. He was the first to approach, and the first to lean forward and shake the salt-and-pepper-haired man’s hand.