Dahmer Flu

by Christopher Cox

  The rest was quick and dismally routine; two men came to the body with shovels and planks of wood, and covered it with a thin sheet. They dug slowly, but steadily, until the hole was deep enough for their purposes. Without ceremony or any sort of discernable service, save for the routine process that I had just watched, they worked in unison to push the corpse into the hole, then to cover it again. One of the men pulled twine from his pocket to fix the planks of wood into a wooden cross, which they drove into the ground to mark the spot. It was only then that I noticed the dozens of similar markers scattered against the fence-line.

  Life in Washington City quickly returned to normal, the only exception being just after the sun went down. As it began to get dark, as the citizens were beginning to bed down for the night, I saw the nurse’s door open and close quickly. Lisa came out and knelt next to the gravesite, apparently praying for the dead; I wondered if this was her habit, or if there was a history between the two but this was the closest thing I’d have to a chance, most likely, and time wasn’t on my side. Slowly, quietly I crawled across the long overgrown expanse between the tree line and the fence, wondering how far the rustle of the wild grass would carry; balancing the fear of getting caught with the shrinking window of opportunity.

  Closer now, I reached the ruined foundations of the other buildings, crawling slightly faster on the concrete slabs; I kept moving, using the rubble for cover. On the other side of the fence, she stood, finished with her prayer. Too far away to risk calling out, I crawled along the ground, faster and worryingly louder. My hands began to ache with the abrasion, and I felt the skin on my knees tear and then moisten with blood.

  She looked up, startled, as she heard me approach. “Lisa, it’s Brad,” I hissed.

  “What are you doing here?” She asked in a panicked whisper.

  “Keep down, like you’re praying, please,” I asked, hoping no one would see anything out of place. She kneeled, like she was before.

  “You’re not supposed to be here,” she said, “no one ever comes back. You need to leave before someone sees you.”

  “I need Madi. Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine,” she answered; after a moment, “she misses you.”

  “Help me. Please.”

  She thought for a long moment, weighing her loyalties, considering the risks. “Okay,” she said finally. “About a mile east, there’s what’s left of a shack, used to be a meth lab or something before it blew up, so don’t go in. Meet me there tomorrow about an hour after it gets dark; I’ll have Madi with me. Now get out of here!” She stood, crossed herself, and hurried back to the station without looking back.

  I took my time on the way back, moving quietly and carefully, then stopping and repeating the irregular process until I was well inside the tree line. I was bloody, tired and filthy, but I finally had hope. I picked up my satchel from where I had hidden it and made a wide berth around the compound, reaching the other side and heading due east. I walked slowly; travelling through the unfamiliar woods and hills during night was terrifying, and I felt pretty sure that there were horrors behind every tree and bush. I tried to slow my breathing, to calm my nerves, but they were already shot. Concentrating on finding the meth lab helped.

  Stumbling in the dark, not daring to use my flashlight, it took hours, or maybe minutes, they felt about the same, to find the building. It seemed like the ideal place for a late night rendezvous; it was hidden on three sides by rocky embankment and well off the main road, approachable only by an overgrown footpath. The charred skeleton of the homemade shack sat alone in the near-center of the rocky alcove, daring a slight breeze to finish the demolition. Perhaps it was my imagination, but the faint smell of rotten eggs and ammonia seemed to have fixed to every surface.

  At some point, I fell asleep, and woke up when the sun was already well over the horizon. Perhaps naively, I trusted what the Colonel had said, and Lisa had confirmed, that Madi would be cared for, even if he couldn’t guarantee her safety. Most likely, she would have been well-fed, her being more fortunate than I had been, to a degree. But I passed the time all the same searching for enough food to feed the both of us that night until we could get far enough away from this place to feel safe foraging again.

  Eventually, the sun began to pull lazily towards the horizon; the shadows grew longer and then disappeared, silhouetting the trees against the fading sky. I watched this slow process, having nothing else to do, waiting for the night to come. Eventually, it did, with stars blinking into existence and the moon climbing into the night sky.

  I waited. A slight breeze picked up, chilling the air. Contrary to what I had expected, the shack didn’t collapse. I waited. My ears pricked up with every noise, what I hoped were animals. I waited. Waited to be away from this nightmare, waited to be back with my daughter.

  The soft pattern of footsteps startled me when I heard it, quietly and in the near distance. They got louder, coming directly towards the clearing. It stopped; I didn’t move.

  I took the chance. “Lisa? Madi?” I called in a loud whisper.

  The footsteps grew closer.

  “Hello, Bradley,” came a voice from the darkness.

  The Colonel.

  Chapter XV: Captivity

  I missed exile.

  Instead of Madi, the Colonel had come with a small group of armed men, which seemed to be excessive, since he already had my pistol. The walk back was silent, except for our collective footsteps, none of us were willing to speak; talking at night was far too great of a risk.

  Reaching the compound was a lot quicker than leaving it. Curious faces appeared in the windows of the billeting classrooms as we passed, eventually reaching a small classroom in the administrative complex. The door was labeled in neat stenciling, ‘Speech’, but the modifications seemed to be more fitting of a jail cell than a classroom.

  As if knowing my thoughts, the Colonel spoke. “Not too many high schools have jail cells, Bradley, so you’ll have to use your imagination.” I didn’t have to imagine too much; the windows were reinforced with a thick wire mesh, the room was dark and the door was fastened with a thick padlock on a solid metal hasp. One of the men took my satchel, then my belt and finally my shoelaces as the Colonel continued. “You seemed like a smart fella, Bradley. But you ain’t got no sense. You couldn’t just go on north and leave well enough alone, kept yourself out of trouble and kept on with your plans. For someone that didn’t want to stay in my city, you’ve sure made yourself at home.”

  “I…” I began.

  “Shut up, you don’t get to talk- you lost that chance. You listen. Now, see, you put me in a bad situation. You tried to turn my own against me, and you tried to take what’s mine. So now I gotta make a choice, whether I keep you in here till old age kills you, or I do it myself and save the food.” He turned to one of the men, “Lock him in,” he said, before turning smartly on his heel and walking towards his office.

  The men opened the door and pushed me inside, fixing the lock in place behind me. My eyes couldn’t adjust right away to the darkness, but I could see why there was no light inside; the overhead fluorescents had been removed, leaving the empty fixtures in place. If they went through the effort to remove the light fixtures, it was possible that this circuit was on the generator- that might mean something at some point. The window was already opened as much as it would go, the type that opened out at a narrow downward angle. I peered out the crack, which was not nearly wide enough to escape, but wide enough that I could have perhaps grabbed a guard if he were close enough. Not that I’d know what to do with him, if I could, but it was good to have options.

  “Don’t I get a phone call?” I called after the guard as he left. He didn’t answer, but trailed his extended middle finger before disappearing around the corner.

  “Hi, roomie,” came a voice from behind me. I spun around, and it took me a moment to see the man sitting very still on the floor in the corner. He was dressed entirely in black, and his skin was deeply tanned, or da
rk-toned; it was hard to tell by his neutral features. My eyes having adjusted well enough to see him, I was able to take in the rest of the room. It was sparse, to be generous, with only a low carpet and three cots without blankets or pillows to offer. A small chemical toilet sat exposed in the corner.

  I sat closer to the man, but left a modest distance between us. He didn’t move. “Hi,” I said.

  Neither of us spoke for a minute, considering this new situation.

  “Why are you here?” I asked.

  “For good enough reason. I can’t say I’m happy about being here, but I know what I am.”

  “What are you?” I asked, curious.

  “You got any family left alive?” He asked, changing the subject.

  “I don’t know,” I answered. Madi, hopefully, but I couldn’t be sure.

  “If you do, you don’t want me in the same world as them. Sometimes these things are for the best, overall. Sleep tight.” He grinned widely; I had a feeling that I wouldn’t, not until he did, at the very least.

  Eventually, I nodded off in the cot at the far end of the room, waking up to the sound of knocking on the wire-meshed window. I blinked against the brightness of the rising sun filtering through the window, my vision finally clearing enough to see a backlit form, recognizing it to be Jon, the one who let me and Madi into our room previously.

  “Hi, Brad!” Jon said excitedly. “It’s good to see you again, I thought you left. How are you doing? Did you sleep okay?”

  “I’ve been better,” I tried to manage a smile.

  “Good. Good.” Jon answered. “Oh! I brought you guys breakfast. ‘Feed the prisoners’, that’s another job that I have, and I’m good at that, too.” He pushed the first tray through the window, careful not to spill as he angled it upwards to get through the crack. I handed it to the other man, whose name I still hadn’t asked, before accepting the second. “Well, Brad, enjoy your breakfast.” He called past me to the other man, “Hello, Pandit!” He pronounced the name carefully, as in ‘pundit’, and waved excitedly. The man nodded, taking another bite of food. I looked at my own tray, oatmeal and crackers, something at least. He had forgotten a drink, but was already out of sight.

  The day passed slowly, the only break from the confined monotony being the occasional, brief conversation with Pandit and the brief visit from Jon to bring bottles of cloudy water.

  “…was looking to get south before I got caught up here, I heard things were pretty much intact down that direction, but…” Pandit continued with a story I was barely listening to.

  “Wait, hold on,” I said, holding up my finger, cocking my ears towards the window. He didn’t and kept talking as if he hadn’t heard. I tuned him out, hearing the sound of children from outside. I peered out the crack and saw a small group of boys that were silently practicing combat drills on the grassy expanse, probably the closest thing they had to a recess, using more of the space than they could find in the gym. The boys were paired into teams, one with a stick about the length of a baseball bat, the other unarmed. The teams were then separated into different areas of the yard, and one of the boys would slowly amble towards the other who would try to evade with a fast walk that changed directions randomly. An adult walked amongst the children, critiquing their performance and correcting those who were lacking. I could barely hear the command, ‘attack’, when the boy that was evading would turn and charge towards the faux-brainstalker; the technique seemed to be to keep enough distance to stay out of the creature’s grasp, while feigning a hit to the head or legs. The coach called ‘switch’, and each child switched roles and equipment.

  Distracted by the group of boys, I almost didn’t hear the soft footsteps of girls as they walked past the cell. They were lined in order, tallest to shortest, and walked with practiced, nearly silent footsteps; each was dressed in a plain dress and carried a simple homemade bag slung across their shoulder. The bags and the dress varied in quality, with the older girls wearing better, leading me to believe that they made their own. Disappointingly, Madi wasn’t among the group. They rounded the corner, walking towards the cafeteria, and disappeared from view, leaving as quietly as they approached.

  I watched the boys for a little bit longer, if only to pass the time. The older boys, I noticed, were much more aggressive and physical than the younger ones, often making contact with the staff, spilling the other painfully to the ground. The adults appeared to encourage this, or at the least allowed it.

  Lisa, then, came around the corner, carefully balancing two lunch trays. She squared to the window, our eyes locked through the wire mesh. Hers were filled with regret, mine with anger. I wondered, I hoped, that she had a reason, that she was somehow forced, or perhaps tricked, into revealing my plan. But her sad eyes had the answer.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, finally.

  I didn’t speak; instead I turned my back and laid back down on my cot.

  “Pandit,” she called, “take these.” She passed both trays carefully through the window, and Pandit collected one in each hand. He brought them both to his cot and began eating greedily; I didn’t care to argue.

  Lisa continued, “Brad… we have laws here. I don’t like them, either, but it’s better that way. It keeps everyone else safe, which is more important than me or you. It’s bigger than that. Do you understand that?”

  I didn’t answer, didn’t move.

  “Brad, you know why the ‘stalkers are better than us? They’re honest. You know exactly what they want, you know what they’re going to do. Christ, when they’re eating you, at least it’s sincere. The living… we’re complex. What do you think would have happened if I brought Madi to you? Did you even think that through?” She caught herself getting louder, and lowered her voice. “Did you think it through? It would’ve been found out by morning; I don’t know what he would have done to me, but I know he would have found you and Madi. He would have spent every resource, risked every man’s life, to find you two and bring you back solely for the reason that you stole from him. Did he seem stable to you?”

  I sat up slowly. “No.”

  “Right. So what if I told you that I wouldn’t help you? Would you have left on your own? No, you would have kept coming around until you got caught, and chances are you would have done something stupid and probably gotten yourself, and maybe Madi, killed. So be mad at me all you want to, but you put me in that situation, so you did this to yourself. Brad, the ‘stalkers are simple; it’s people that are complex.” She turned and walked briskly away, somewhere on the balanced edge of factually right and morally wrong, due to the nature of this city as a whole.

  I heard Pandit laughing from his cot. “Fuck you,” I said; it was the best I could do.

  Chapter XVI: Complexities

  Several more days passed; it was easy to lose track of exactly how many. The group of girls passed by the window a few times a day, which I realized I could use to mark time, or at least upcoming meals since they were most likely the ones preparing them. The boys would come out, as well, once a day, either running laps or practicing combative. It became a very surreal existence, with nothing to read, nothing to do, and only Pandit for company- and he didn’t speak much. When he did, it was too often about something horrible, so I tried my best to block him out. Lisa stopped by several more times, mostly around lunchtime, and I began to look forward to her visits; at least it was some small measure of kindness. I wasn’t dead, yet, and I suspected that she may have had something to do with that fact.

  The evening was peaceful; the rest of the city had locked in for the night, and I was enjoying the crisp air that slipped in through the window. Small pleasures. Pandit, as usual, slept early and snored noisily from his cot, one of his lesser habits that I’d learned to ignore by now.

  The sky was just giving way to dusk, with a few clouds littering the vibrantly painted horizon. The moon was rising early, and a bright shooting star arced gracefully across the sky…

  …Before slamming violently into the gr
ound outside of the fence line. The ground shuddered like an angry giant, spewing rock and soil high into the air. I instinctively dropped to the ground, waiting for the explosions that I knew were to follow. I didn’t have to wait long; three more fell in quick succession. By the amount of rock that was raining over the compound, I was sure they hit something concrete, and hoped that it was the foundations from outside the fence.

  Pandit rolled out of bed with a curse after the first blast; “Ulta koira gache jhulay dimu!” He shouted, which didn’t really need a translation. “What the hell?” He shouted.

  “Keep your ass down; I don’t know,” I replied. I prayed to any god that was listening that they wouldn’t hit Madi’s room, wherever that was.

  “Nuts to that,” he said, peering over the ledge. “Shit, take a look at this!”

  Carefully, I looked through the window. Ducking as automatic weapon fire raked the fence line and the closest classrooms. Small groups began to carefully approach the compound, keeping a low profile. They were smart, keeping the defenders’ heads down with suppressive fire, while taking advantage of the disorientation caused by the explosions by moving in for the kill, coming in from the setting sun.

  “This should be over pretty quick,” Pandit laughed.

  “Maybe not… Recent as a couple of days ago, there was a good sized group of those brainstalkers not too far off, only reason they hadn’t found this place yet is luck. They’ll be here soon enough- with all this noise, you can count on that,” I answered.

  “Oh,” Pandit replied, the smile gone from his face. The advancing men had dropped to a shooting position as the Colonel’s men began to return fire of their own, now from the north, trying to fire from the living areas. The fierce battle was firmly underway.