by M. Van
“I see you’ve gotten yourself comfortable.” I jerked up, hiding the phone underneath my pillow and shifted so I nearly sat on top of it. “Chester, would you come in here for a second?”
Warren crossed his arms over his chest as he waited for Chester to appear. The big man eyed Warren questioningly as he pointed at the backpack. “Is that one of your brighter ideas?” Warren said. Chester shrugged.
“It’s just some clothes and some knickknacks, nothing than could help her. I’ve checked,” he said. “I thought it might … just … you know.”
“I don’t know,” Warren said. “Now take that and go get a chair.”
Chester shrugged again and gave me an apologetic look as he retrieved the bag and stepped from the room. Warren narrowed his gaze at me, and I swallowed hard as he closed the door.
“Now, sit still,” Warren said as he lifted my chin. Chester had moved me into a chair and had tied my hands behind my back before he had removed the bandage from around my head. Blood had coated the rag and clung to my head like a Band-Aid. Apparently, Chester did not have the sense to rip it off like a Band-Aid, and it had hurt like hell as he slowly peeled it from my head.
Warren pulled my hair back as he hovered over me, and I felt the first sting just below my hairline. I squeezed my eyelids shut as tears sprang to my eyes, and I strained my jaw to keep my mouth shut. He took his time pulling the thread through the skin, and it felt like torture. I squirmed in the chair, wishing I could wriggle out of there, but the restraints kept me firmly in place.
“Hold still,” Warren said sounding agitated. “You didn’t act like such a child when I stitched up your leg all that time ago.”
“I was sort of unconscious then,” I said through clenched teeth.
“And I used a sedative now,” he said.
“Well, maybe you should have used some more,” I said and hissed, as I felt him poke my skin again. I internally cursed Warren for taking his time as if he were deliberately prolonging my agony.
“There,” he finally said, “all done with only four stitches. Those head wounds always look worse than they are.” He stepped back to admire his work before he plastered some gauze on my forehead with tape.
I blinked the residual tears from my eyes as Warren turned his back to me to pick up the small black pouch that held his medical supplies. He took out a pill bottle and shook out a tablet. He returned the pill bottle to the pouch and exchanged it for a bottle of water.
I bit my lips, holding them shut as he attempted to shove the pill in my mouth. He arched an eyebrow and shook his head before he held out the pill for me to see. I read the tiny letters on the pill and blew out a breath—Advil, maybe there was a God. I hesitated a moment longer but figured that if he wanted to drug me, he would have others ways to do that, and I opened my mouth to accept the pill.
Water trickled down my chin as he offered me the bottle. I wiped my mouth on my shoulder and eyed Warren suspiciously as he placed the bottle in his pouch.
“There,” he said as he moved around me, “all done and I doubt it’ll leave a scar.” I felt that the bindings restraining me loosened and once released pulled my hands upfront and rubbed my wrist.
“What do you care?” I said. He grinned, looking down at me, and I imagined a sardonic laugh would have completed the picture, but fortunately he deprived me of the pleasure.
“I care for as long as I need you to get what I want,” he said. I narrowed my eyes at him, not sure what he meant, but eager to find out. What possible reason could he have to hold me?
“Well, it seems you’ve finally figured out the zombies-don’t-touch-me serum. So I can’t think of anything you would want from me,” I said in an attempt to taunt him.
“Yes,” he said with a chuckle, trying to disguise the frustration in his eyes, “but that was never the point now, was it?”
I glared at him. “Please don’t tell me you’re still looking for that super soldier solution,” I said mockingly, “because I can’t picture you as a super villain. I’m thinking more in the line of the Smurfs and a balding guy named Gargamel.”
Warren didn’t say anything, but I could see the anger in his eyes. Aggressively he stepped closer, and although I feared he might strike me, I raised my chin. At least I could pretend I wasn’t afraid of him. He didn’t hit me, though. Instead, he grabbed the back of the chair and tipped me over. I slid off the seat and landed sideways on the mattress with a thump. He held onto the chair as he kneeled in front of me.
“You’re actually not that far off,” he said in a low voice as he stared into my eyes. “All I need to finish my work is to get my hands on your friend Ms. Vissers one last time, and you’re going to help me get her.”
“No,” I said in a loud voice as I pushed myself upright. “I won’t help you with that.”
He smirked as he said, “Oh, but you already have. You’re doing it right now.” He laughed aloud as he stood up. With the chair in hand, he walked to the door and opened it. “Sweet dreams.”
“Fuck you,” I shouted after him, but the door locked and he was gone. All I could do was sit there and stare at the door as the fact that Warren was using me as bait to get to Mags ran through my mind.
| 21
Mags
Savanna was still eyeing me warily. To let her know I was still me, I had waved at her a couple of times and had removed the bandana.
I glanced at the watch on my wrist and realized I had been sitting there for half an hour. That word ridiculous crossed my mind again, but then I couldn’t blame Savanna for being cautious.
She caught me eyeing the watch, and I shrugged. I didn’t want to push her, but I was getting tired of sitting on this box. Luckily the box sat mounted on a pallet or else I might have been freaking out. I had made quite a dent in the material. Savanna bit her lower lip, clearly not sure of herself as she scrutinized my face. Determination crept into her eyes as her lips pulled into a thin line. Straightening her shoulders, she nodded her head.
Finally, crossed through my head, but I plastered a smile on my face as I placed a foot on each fork and stood. My smile faded at the sight of the distance I had to breach and the zombies that I would have to hop over. Fortunately, I had long legs.
Shifting over to the right fork, I stretched out my arms for balance. I reminded myself to take it slow and then edged forward on the narrow fork. Something metal clanked, and my heart jumped. My eyes shot to the machine that was supposed to carry my weight. The fear of it not being able to jolted me out of balance, and I waved my arms to gain it back.
I managed not to fall and stood still for a moment as if waiting for the machine to tip over. It didn’t and it felt solid underneath my feet. Shaking off the idea that the lift wouldn’t be able to hold me—which seemed ridiculous anyway—I focused on a spot to grab hold of the rack. I edged as close as I could, and then let gravity do the rest.
My right foot caught the ledge I was aiming for, and my hands gripped for the ledge above. Hanging off the side of the rack between two shelves, I edged sideways to the opening between the boxes on the shelves where Savanna sat waiting for me.
This climbing was harder than it looked, and my muscles started to tremble with the effort. I lost my grip with my right hand, which wasn’t that surprising considering the missing fingers, but it took me off balance in the middle of taking a step. The ledge seemed to have vanished as I searched purchase for my left foot, while I felt my right starting to slip. Panic set in at the thought of tumbling down into the midst of the zombies below my feet. I doubted they’d be as forgiving if I came crashing down on them, and I imagined being eaten on impulse even if they didn’t like what they were snacking on.
In the middle of that thought, I felt hands wrap around my waist and holding me steady. Savanna had come out of the depths of her hiding spot and tried to pull me in. I swung my body and let her reel me inside.
Our bodies crashed on the wooden shelves that had been Savanna’s sanctuary for the past few d
ays. The moment after crashing safely to the floor, Savanna pulled away from me and ducked into a corner. I just lay there panting from the effort while my heart pounded in my chest so loud that it made me think the people standing on the balcony could hear it.
“Jeez, Mags, you okay?” Angie called out over the radio. Gasping for air, I wasn’t exactly able to answer, but I clicked on the mic anyway.
“Are you auditioning for a service that provides phone sex?” Tom asked.
“Shut … up,” I wheezed and turned my attention to Savanna. “Just … gotta … catch my breath.” I waved a hand in the air as if that would explain it all and sat up straighter.
The fear in Savanna’s eyes was evident, but she stayed in her spot, although she had some room to maneuver. The small space could barely fit two people but seemed to be Savanna’s main hangout. A blanket lay at her feet while a couple of empty cans and candy wrappers lay in the corner. A couple bottles of water stood neatly in another corner. A narrow opening that she must have created by shoving boxes to a side and most likely off the rack ran as far as I could see toward the other side of the distribution center and probably went as far as the rack would allow it. The space reminded me of a tree house, but not one that one would want to spend days in—especially not with all the zombies milling around it.
Without taking her eyes off me, Savanna shifted and reached for the corner with the bottles of water. She grabbed one and then tossed it to me. I nodded with a smile, mouthing thank you to her, and then drank it eagerly.
As my heart rate calmed and my breathing evened out, I sought a comfortable position to sit. I didn’t know what she had learned from all the light flashing, but I felt the need to explain it to her myself. It didn’t seem wise to pull out the box with the needle and just stick her with it. She needed to understand the consequences, and I knew it wouldn’t be easy to explain, especially the technical medical bits. Those would be hard to understand even without her hearing disability, but I would certainly try.
Savanna’s focus didn’t waver from my mouth as I spoke. It felt a little animated at first, but I soon realized Savanna was pretty skilled at reading lips, so I only needed to use the exaggerated mouth thing with the bigger technical words.
“You … have … in you,” she said in her singsong voice as she pointed at the black box that I had removed from my pants pocket.
“Not exactly,” I said. “It sort of came from me.”
Her eyes widened at my statement, and she opened her mouth as if to say something, but then closed it. She narrowed her eyes and cocked her head before she said, “So … you can make … zombies.”
It wasn’t as much a question as it was a statement, and it made my stomach churn. I dropped my eyes and found myself staring at the gross stains on my pants. This information wasn’t new to me, but hearing it said aloud triggered a gut-wrenching feeling. It made it that more real.
I hadn’t answered Savanna’s question, but I guessed my body language had said enough.
“Sorry,” she said in a soft voice. I shook my head and then lifted it so she could read my lips.
“It’s okay.”
At that, Savanna smiled a genuine smile that lit up her beautiful face and said, “Yes, because you’re … alive.”
It was something in the way she had said it—in a determined way maybe. I couldn’t quite place it, but it made me return her smile. She was right of course; anything would be better than death or running around like a zombie.
Savanna started to tug on her shirt that must have been white at some point. She rolled up her sleeve and gave me access to her arm.
“You sure?” I asked giving her a hard look.
She held my gaze as she replied, “Yes.”
“Okay,” I muttered and reached for the box.
I removed my gloves and used some disinfecting wipes, although I doubted it would be enough to thoroughly sanitize my hands, but they looked clean. Savanna seemed to be hypnotized by the movement, until I realized she was watching my right hand. She winched a little as I held it up as if she were imagining how painful it must have been.
“Zombie ate my fingers,” I said in a light tone that was probably fruitless.
“Was this … when you … found out that?” Savanna said and hesitated.
“That I wouldn’t turn,” I said finishing the question for her. She nodded her head. I shook mine and said, “Unfortunately, this was the second time I’d let myself get bitten.”
Savanna let out a sigh and shook her head.
“Not … very smart,” she said. I glanced up and smiled as I took the box.
“Nope,” I said before I held the box out for her to see. An empty syringe and two small vials sat neatly tucked into the foam that held them in place. “You sure you want me to do that?”
She grinned and nodded a yes in reply.
I followed the instructions, just as Dr. Chen had shown us. The doctor had taught all four of us how to mix the substances and to administer the serum, and soon enough the syringe was empty.
Savanna stared at her arm before turning to me and shrugged.
“I don’t … feel … anything,” she said. Dr. Chen had promised me that he had averted the previous effects of the virus. I remembered far too well when Dr. Matley had tested the serum on Angie. It had been painful, and it still raised the hairs on the back of my neck as I thought of Angie tied up on that bed screaming in agony. Chen said that he had perfected the process, and from what I could tell, Savanna seemed fine.
“How will … I know … it works?” Savanna asked.
“Well,” I said, with a shrug and crawled to the edge of the shelf. I lay down on my stomach and peeked over the edge. Savanna followed me and lay down at my side.
“They’ve stopped clawing at the boxes stacked underneath your little hideout,” I said but then realized I hadn’t faced her.
“They’re … gone,” Savanna said, coming to the same conclusion and assuring that I didn’t need to repeat myself. “I mean … no more …” She broke herself off, extended a hand and mimicked a clawing motion.
Presuming she meant the zombies, I held up my thumb, and Savanna visibly relaxed.
“Now … what?” she asked.
| 22
Ash
Sleep didn’t come easily that night. At first, my own thoughts kept me from falling asleep, and then the nightmares kept me from sleeping. I sat with my back propped against the wall, waiting for the sunrise to release me from this darkness.
Occasionally I peeked at the time and hoped it to be correct. Assuming I was still in the same time zone, the sun should be coming up soon. I didn’t think we had traveled far enough to change time zones. At least I hoped we hadn’t. Actually, I had no idea how long we had traveled—not inside the truck and certainly not inside the van. I had missed that trip entirely after I had bumped my head.
I was tempted to look at the phone again, but forced myself not to—afraid they’d see the light and take it from me. I also couldn’t put any music on to soothe my mind because I had left the damn earplugs inside the backpack.
“Goddammit,” I said aloud, unable to distract my mind. I couldn’t stop thinking about what Warren had said, that he was using me to get Mags here. I couldn’t let him do that, but I had no idea how to stop him. If Mags knew Warren had me, I was sure she’d come get me. She tended to do stupid things like that.
Warren had also said that I wasn’t that far off when I mentioned the super soldiers. That was Warren’s idiotic idea that started this zombie situation in the first place. But what did that have to do with Mags?
I sighed as I felt the headache return. Why couldn’t that man see what he had done? Apparently, he didn’t care, and it seemed he wasn’t finished yet either.
The sound of something scratching pulled me out of my thoughts, and I looked up. It came from the window. I shifted so I could take a better look as the window slid open and someone poked their head inside.
“Who the hell a
re you?” I asked, unable to recognize the face in the darkness. My heart raced as my hand clamped around the phone.
“Good morning,” a familiar voice said and I sat up straighter.
“Mike,” I said questioningly.
“The one and only,” he replied.
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“Well, and hello to you too,” he said. I squinted, hoping to get a better look at him, but his face remained a silhouette. “I just thought I’d come see how you were doing. I hadn’t seen you after your impressive entry.” The sound of Mike’s voice and his presence at that window let all kinds of hopes and possibilities rise up inside me.
“Did you call Agent Marsden?” I asked hopefully.
“Uh,” was the only thing that came as a reply, and those hopes and possibilities threatened to drown.
“Please, Mike,” I said, “you have to call him. It’s just one phone call.”
“Listen, I checked around,” he said. “So did Sergeant Townsend. We all found it weird the way things panned out, and Townsend took it all the way up with the base command, but they all said the same thing. This Major—what’s his name—is the real deal, and he has permission to keep you here so you can’t infect anyone.”
“That’s bullshit,” I fumed. “Why the hell would anyone bring someone that’s infected to a refugee camp, because that’s what this is, right? That man is Dr. David Warren, and he caused this outbreak in the first place.”
“Well, considering the info I got, I think you’re wrong about that last bit, but I agree with you on the first,” Mike said, “and that’s kind of why I’m here.”
“Then please call Agent Marsden,” I said, sounding desperate. “Tell him Ash asked for him.” Internally I cursed the darkness because I couldn’t see Mike’s face and had no idea of his reaction.
“Listen, kid,” he said with a sigh, “I’m not going to go against orders here.”