Alive?

by Melissa Woods

  “Go,” Matt yelled. “We’ll catch up!”

  Violet grabbed Toby’s arm, pulling him through the back door and out into the yard. They opened the gate and ran into the street.

  Where the truck was waiting.

  Violet and Toby were bundled into the back of the truck, despite their best efforts to fight. Inside, sacks were put over their heads, and their hands were restrained. Violet’s heart was pounding. She struggled against the person holding her, but was roughly pushed to the floor. She lay in the dark, feeling the truck pulling away, with no idea where they were going, no idea whether Toby was still beside her, no idea whether Matt, Sam, or Joe were even alive. She heard barking fading into the distance as they left Ben behind. The soldiers weren’t speaking, and the truck sped on in silence for the longest time. It made left and right turns, but Violet soon lost count of how many. She knew she’d never find her way back to her friends, not now they had gone so far.

  If we manage to escape, we’ll be on our own now.

  But even escape seemed incredibly unlikely—there must’ve been at least six men in the truck; she remembered counting them earlier. She and Toby stood no chance against six trained soldiers. Eventually, Violet felt the vehicle stop, and she was pulled roughly upright. Still with the sack over her head, she was taken out and marched forward.

  “Where am I?” she asked, her voice cracking as she spoke. No response from the person pushing her.

  “Toby?”

  Nothing. Either Toby wasn’t with her, or they had made it so he couldn’t speak.

  “Where is my friend?” she persisted. Still no answer.

  Violet felt the ground beneath her change. She was inside now, but had no idea where ‘inside’ was.

  “In,” a voice said gruffly, pushing her forward. They stood still for a while, the floor seeming to vibrate beneath her feet, and Violet realized they were in an elevator. So wherever they were, the power was still on. She heard doors opening, and was then marched on again. More walking, more doors, until she was finally roughly pushed onto a chair.

  “Thank you,” said a voice she didn’t recognize. It was male. “Where did you find her?”

  “Zone C.” It was said from behind her, so it must’ve belonged to one of the soldiers. “She was with others.”

  “Do you have all of them?”

  “No. Just one more.”

  That’s good. Matt, Sam, and Joe are still okay.

  As long as they’ve not been eaten.

  Shut up, brain!

  “You look angry,” said the voice she didn’t know. “What happened?”

  “Her people attacked us.”

  “You killed my friend,” Violet interrupted, sounding confident despite still having no idea where she was or what was happening.

  “She was bitten.”

  “No, she wasn’t!”

  “Okay, that’s enough, Gobber,” the first voice said.

  Violet snorted. Gobber.

  “Something funny?” the one called Gobber asked, an edge to his tone.

  “Nope.”

  “Leave us,” insisted the other man.

  She heard the soldier leave, and the door close heavily behind him. The man in front of her didn’t speak for a while, but she knew he was still there. She could hear him breathing. Eventually, she heard him move forward. The sack was removed from her head, and she was momentarily blinded by the bright light in the room. Her eyes slowly adjusted, and Violet took in her surroundings. It appeared to be an office: white walls, a desk in front of her with a computer, a large potted plant in the corner. The man in front of her wore a white coat, like a doctor, and had greying brown hair. His eyes were the brightest blue she’d ever seen.

  “What’s your name?” he asked, his voice gentle.

  Violet didn’t answer, staring him out. What did he want from her? Why was she here?

  “What’s your name?” he repeated.

  Violet kept her face impassive, her tone dry when she finally spoke. “Am I not wearing my name badge? I must’ve lost it when I was kidnapped and shoved into a dirty old truck.”

  A smile flickered on the man’s face. “Are you going to tell me?”

  “My friend,” Violet began. “The one I came in with… is he safe?”

  “Why don’t you start by answering my question, then I’ll answer yours?”

  “Why do you want to know my name?”

  He smiled fully now, and it was almost reassuring. Almost. “I’d like to have a conversation with you. It would be more pleasant if I were able to call you by your first name.”

  “Violet.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, Violet. My name is Doctor Jeremy Ross.”

  “Where is my friend?” Violet asked again.

  “I saw the two of you arrive out the window. He was fine. I’m sure he’ll be brought to me after you leave.”

  “Leave?” Violet felt her heart beat a little faster. “I can go?”

  The doctor’s smile flickered. “I mean when you leave this room. You’ll be taken somewhere to rest, and then we need to run a few tests.”

  Beads of sweat began to appear on Violet’s forehead. “What kind of tests?”

  “Before we can evacuate you, we need to check you’re okay. Have you been out there the whole time?”

  Violet shook her head. “We were in a house…what kind of tests?”

  Doctor Ross waved a hand casually. “We’ll collect blood and saliva samples. We need to check for any infectious diseases before we take you out of the country. We also need to do a psychiatric evaluation. Being out there for so long…we need to make sure it hasn’t had any…adverse effects.”

  I can think of one or two.

  The doctor continued. “You should be out within a few days—”

  “I don’t want to leave,” Violet interrupted.

  He looked confused. “You were asking me if you could go just a moment ago.”

  “I mean I don’t want to be evacuated. I want to stay in the country.”

  Doctor Ross raised an eyebrow. “I’m not sure I believe that. Why would you want to stay here?”

  Because my friends are here.

  Because I don’t trust you.

  Because if you do blood tests, you might find out I’m half-zombie.

  Because I don’t want whatever I have to spread anywhere else.

  But she didn’t say any of those things. She just stayed silent. Doctor Ross sighed. “I think you should get some rest. I’ll see you tomorrow for your tests.” He nodded over her shoulder. She hadn’t realized one of the soldiers had come back in, and was waiting just behind her. He pulled her to her feet. This one had greasy brown hair and was missing a front tooth.

  Is this Gobber? He’s a looker.

  “Take Violet to her room,” Doctor Ross said. “Gently, please. She’s been through a lot.”

  Violet wasn’t sure Gobber understood ‘gently’. She didn’t think the doctor meant—drag her toward the room, then shove her inside and slam the door behind her. Still, she was glad to be rid of him, at least. She took in her new surroundings. The room used to be an office of some kind, but had been masterfully ‘converted’ into a bedroom by simply moving the desk and filing cabinet to one side, and putting six cots against the wall. For now, she was on her own. She sat on the edge of a cot, her head in her hands, trying to figure out how she was going to get out of this. Then she stood up, pacing the room.

  I don’t know where Toby is. I don’t know where I am. I have no idea if Matt, Sam, and Joe are even still alive.

  What’s going to happen when they find out I’m infected? Will they kill me straight away? Will they do tests on me?

  She pulled up the sleeve of her left arm, looking at the ugly scar where she was bitten. It was so clearly a bite wound. Even without the blood tests, they’d be able to recognize it a mile off. She sighed, tugging down the sleeve again and glancing out the window. She was high up; the building had to be at least ten stories. What was this
place? What was it used for now?

  She heard the door open behind her, and saw Toby being led into the room. His wrist restraints were removed, and the door closed behind him. He had a black eye. Violet hurried over, pulling him into a hug, suddenly aware of how young he was.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, surveying him at arm’s length. “Did they hurt you?”

  He shook his head. “No, I’m fine. Did they hurt you?”

  “No.”

  “The doctor said they want to evacuate us. He said they’ll take us out of the country.” He didn’t sound particularly excited.

  “What do you think?” Violet asked.

  He paused, and then shook his head again. “I don’t trust them, and I don’t want to go. Not without the others; they’re still out there somewhere.”

  “I agree. We need to get out of here.”

  “How?”

  “That’s the problem. I have no idea.”

  Violet and Toby were both pulled out the next morning by Gobber and two other soldiers, who led them to a small examination room across the hall. Violet knew this must’ve been some kind of clinic or research center before; there was too much medical equipment for it to have been anything else.

  “You don’t have to always point the guns at them,” Doctor Ross said as he entered the room followed by two other doctors, one male and one female.

  “They’re dangerous,” one of the soldiers muttered. This one was dark with a shaved head, and he kept his gun aimed squarely at Violet. He had a black eye and a split lip, and she wondered if he might’ve been the one Matt and Joe had attacked.

  The other male doctor snorted. “Dangerous? The girl and the child?”

  “Don’t underestimate them.”

  “Fine.” Doctor Ross sighed impatiently. “Let’s just get on with it.” He smiled, moving toward Violet while his female colleague approached Toby.

  “We’re just going to take some blood,” he explained. “It shouldn’t hurt too much, and it won’t take very long.” He made to roll up her sleeve, but Violet kicked out, knocking him back unexpectedly. Following Violet’s lead, Toby shoved his doctor away. Immediately, the guns were pointed at their faces, the soldiers yelling.

  “Stop,” Doctor Ross cried over the noise. He glanced at Violet warily, then at the soldiers. “Wait outside.”

  “No chance.” Gobber shook his greasy head.

  “I’m in charge here, and I can’t get any work done while you’re here pointing those things at my patients. Get out.”

  Surprisingly, after a few scathing looks, the soldiers left the room. Gobber threw Violet one last scowl, which was slightly less intimidating with his missing front chomper, before following the others. Now there were no guns in the room, Doctor Ross turned back to Violet. “Why did you do that?”

  She didn’t reply.

  “You don’t want me to take your blood?”

  She shook her head.

  “Why?”

  What answer could she give?

  “I want to help you,” Doctor Ross began. “Both of you. But I can only do that—I can only get you out of this nightmare—if I can prove you’re fit and well. We can do this the easy way, or we can do it the hard way.” He regarded her sympathetically. “Trust me, you don’t want it to be the hard way.

  He moved closer, the syringe still in his hand, but Violet backed further away. The doctor sighed. “Okay.” He headed for the door, and opened it. “Hold them down,” he said to the soldiers outside, who immediately came into the room.

  Gobber grinned, grabbing Violet roughly by the shoulders and forcing her onto the bed. She and Toby fought against it, but they weren’t strong enough, and were held in place by their shoulders and wrists. Violet saw another doctor take Toby’s blood. Doctor Ross approached her. He nodded to the soldiers, and the sleeves on both of her arms were pulled up. She closed her eyes, feeling the silence fall on the whole room as they saw her bite. After what felt like an eternity, one of the other soldiers spoke. “She’s been bitten!”

  Violet opened her eyes and focused her attention on Toby, who was staring at her wound openmouthed.

  “She can’t have been,” the female doctor breathed. “That’s impossible.”

  Another soldier pointed to the bite angrily. “You look at that and tell me it’s not a bite!”

  He raised his gun to her head, but Doctor Ross called, “No, don’t shoot her!”

  “She’s bitten!”

  “She’s been here for over eighteen hours,” Doctor Ross breathed. “She should’ve turned by now, or at least be showing symptoms, especially with a bite as deep as that. Look at the coloring around it.” He moved closer. “That bite has healed.”

  “What does that mean?” Gobber asked.

  Doctor Ross moved Violet’s head, not roughly, but forcing her to lock eyes with him. “When were you bitten?” he asked.

  Violet’s mouth was a desert. She swallowed thickly.

  “When?” he repeated.

  “At the start,” she croaked. “I don’t know how long it’s been.”

  The doctor’s eyes widened, a smile spreading across his lips. “Take her away, quarantine her.” He gestured to Toby. “He can go back to his room.”

  Toby fought as they strapped Violet onto the bed before wheeling her from the room. She heard him calling out her name, trying to break free of the hands holding him, but she couldn’t do anything. She was trapped, and she was numb. What was going to happen now?

  And so, things fell into a routine. Violet realized that wherever she was, there would always be a routine. At the school, all those months ago, it had involved patrolling the fence, making meals, eating together, finding ways to pass the time until the next patrol, and trying not to eat anyone. When John and his men arrived, her routine became cooking, cleaning, generally trying to keep out of everyone’s way, and trying not to eat anyone. At the house, she’d had chores involving the animals, Ben was walked every day, they had a set time to cook in the kitchen, and she had to try not to eat anyone. When they were out there, without walls or fences to protect them, the routine had become simpler—get up, keep moving, stay alive, find somewhere to sleep, and try not to eat anyone. It was easy to remember at least.

  This place followed a routine, too. Every morning, she was woken up by soldiers coming into her room with guns pointed at her head. She was tied down on a gurney—even though she was more than capable of walking—and wheeled into a white room two floors down. She was sedated, and she would wake up in her room again. Every day the same, for five days.

  Though things were becoming fuzzy in Violet’s mind, she made sure to keep track of the days. She made a tally on the wall using a pen she’d found in one of the drawers. She wasn’t trying so hard not to eat anyone here. In fact, that might’ve at least cheered her up a little. Unfortunately, she was surrounded by people who actually realized how dangerous she was, and the opportunity to do a little flesh eating never seemed to present itself.

  Today was day six, and as usual, Violet was strapped down on a bed in the white room. She wasn’t sure how long she’d been there, probably a few minutes. She hadn’t been sedated yet, but still didn’t feel right. She had been knocked out so often over the past few days even her moments of consciousness felt strange and dream-like. She was naked, as always, waiting to be poked and prodded by doctors wearing masks. They didn’t talk to her. It was like she was already dead, just a cadaver they were practicing on. It felt like every inch of her body had been injected or scraped at some point. In her rare moments of consciousness, Violet found herself daydreaming about breaking free of the table and releasing the thing that lived inside her. She could kill everyone: the ones who bought her here, the ones who pulled and poked and probed, the ones who pointed guns in her face. No one would be safe.

  “Violet?”

  This was unusual; someone was speaking to her today. Violet’s head felt heavy as she lazily turned it to the left. She wasn’t in the operating room any
longer; she was lying on her cot.

  When did they bring me here? I thought I was still on the table?

  Violet’s eyelids drooped, but she tried to focus on the voice. A woman was watching her. She had red hair tied into a neat plait. She wore a white coat, like the other doctors, but she wasn’t wearing a mask. She seemed to actually see Violet as a person, rather than imagining all the ways she could cut her open.

  Give it time.

  “Violet, can you hear me?” the woman asked.

  Violet tried to croak a response, but her voice didn’t seem to be working. The woman scowled, looking behind her, where Violet could just make out the shape of another doctor.

  “What have you got her on?” the woman asked sharply. “She’s barely conscious.”

  “We have to keep her sedated. We don’t know what effect the virus has on her.”

  “Still? You’ve had her for almost a week. How can you not know?”

  No reply.

  “Have you considered asking her how it has affected her?”

  “That’s your job.”

  “Yes, it is.” The woman’s tone was cold. “And how am I supposed to do that if she can’t even string a sentence together?”

  Silence. Finally, the woman spoke again. “No more drugs, not until her next round of tests. Until then, just let the poor girl rest. When she comes around fully, bring her to me.”

  “But Doctor Ross says—”

  “I don’t care what he says. Just do it.”

  Two days passed. Finally, Violet was beginning to feel like herself again. The objects around her lost their hazy edges, and she could stand up without feeling as though the floor was vibrating beneath her. She had just finished marking the tally on the wall when she heard her door unlocking. Gobber and two other soldiers came into the room. As usual, their guns were pointed at her.

  “Drop it,” Gobber ordered. For a moment, Violet had no idea what he was talking about. Then she realized she was still holding the pen. She rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”