Am I Dead?: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (The Great Dying Book 2)

by Paul Seiple

  Felicia didn't answer. The pain in her gut sent a subtle remember that it was still there. She thought back to the hospital when she tried to check Katie's blood pressure.

  "Hey, that watch has a heart monitor, doesn't it?"

  Katie tapped the face of the watch and made a few swipes to the right. "Yep." She held her arm out to show Felicia the screen.

  "Looks like you're dead." Felicia let out a nervous burst of laughter.

  Gooseflesh popped up on Katie’s forearm when she looked at the watch. There was no registering heart rate. She pressed the watch against her wrist. "It’s not a perfect science. Sometimes you have to get it just right."

  Still no heart rate.

  "Maybe the battery's dying," Katie said. "Told you I have to charge it all the time. But, hey, dead people don’t get chill bumps, right?"

  Maybe it's not the battery dying, Felicia thought. The tea kettle whistled, shifting her thoughts. She took two mugs from the cabinet.

  "So, Chad is possessive?" Katie asked as she walked to the kitchen and took one of the mugs.

  "If he was anymore possessive, he'd try to claim me on his taxes.” Felicia poured tea into Katie's mug. "How are you feeling now?"

  Katie sipped the tea. "Better. I still have a headache, but the nausea is gone." The tea slid down her throat, leaving a burning sensation. She spoke too soon. The nausea was back. Katie cleared her throat. "How about you?"

  "I still have those weird pains. It's like I'm hungry, but the thought of food makes me want to puke."

  A knock at the door came just as Felicia was about to sip her tea.

  "Felicia, you in there?"

  "Chad," Felicia whispered to Katie. "He'll go away."

  "I know you're in there. I hear you talking. Who’s in there with you? Look, I'm really sorry about last night. Can we just talk?"

  Felicia brought the mug to her mouth and took a sip of tea.

  "Felicia?"

  The knocks grew louder, more rapid.

  Katie smiled and whispered, "Let him in."

  Felicia shook her head.

  "Felicia, I know you’re there."

  "He's not going to leave," Katie said. This time, she didn't whisper.

  "Felicia, is someone in there with you? Let me in."

  The knocks began to rattle pictures of lighthouses on the wall. Felicia shot a glare at Katie and started towards the door. As soon as she turned the deadbolt, the door swung open.

  "Hey, stud, care to join us?" Katie asked, patting an empty space on the couch beside her.

  Chad froze in the doorway. He turned to Felicia, whose face was draped in a shade of red.

  "For tea," Katie said, holding up the mug.

  "Who is that?" Chad asked.

  Felicia grabbed Chad's arm and pulled him into the room as she shut the door. "She works with me."

  "I'm Katie."

  Chad cocked his head. "Well, Katie, I need a few minutes alone with my girlfriend. Do you mind?"

  "What do you want, Chad? She's not going anywhere," Felicia said.

  "Why didn't you return my texts last night?" Chad asked, taking a seat in a chair opposite of Katie.

  "You're right. He is an asshole."

  Felicia twirled and glared at Katie, who was sipping tea. She said that, right? Am I hearing things? Felicia looked at Chad as he tapped his fingers on a metal rivet decorating the microfiber chair.

  "Well? I'm waiting for an answer," Chad said.

  Katie sat her tea on a stack of People magazines on the coffee table. "Maybe she was asleep. You ever think of that?"

  "Listen, I don't need you trying to Dr. Phil my relationship with my girlfriend. Why are you here anyway?"

  "Why are you here?" Katie asked. "Usually when someone doesn't answer texts, it means they are trying to avoid the sender." Katie picked up her tea, raised her eyebrows, and took a sip. "But that's none of my business."

  "So, you're trying to avoid me?" Chad asked.

  An ache thumped against Felicia's right temple like off-key tapping on a snare drum. She kneaded the side of her head with two fingers. The skin on skin sensation made her fingertips burn. With each rub, streaks of red, blue, and green strobed her eyesight, nearly blinding her. The nausea returned with a ferociousness that suggested it wasn't going away anytime soon. Her hearing was distorted. Felicia could only make out muffled sounds, nothing coherent. Through blurred vision, Felicia saw Chad being overly dramatic with his animated gestures. Just one of the many things she didn't like about him. The list was growing. And then three words broke through the muck.

  "Let's eat him."

  Katie's words blanketed Felicia's ailments, if only for a second. Her vision cleared. Katie was sipping tea. Chad was mouthing something about being wrong.

  "What did you say?" Felicia asked.

  "Why are you avoiding me?" Chad asked.

  "Not you. Her." Felicia pointed at Katie. "What did you say?"

  "She didn't say anything," Chad looked at Katie. "This has to be a prank or something."

  Katie sat the mug down and made eye contact with Felicia. "Let's eat the bastard." Her mouth never moved.

  Felicia cocked her head like the way a dog does when someone calls its name. Chad's eyes bounced between Felicia and Katie.

  "Let me guess, you two are communicating telepathically now, right? What a fucking joke. This is a shitty prank. I know what you're doing..." Chad paused when he noticed the blood on Felicia’s sleeve. “Wait, what’s wrong with your arm?”

  "Try it." Katie smiled at Felicia.

  Chad slammed his fist against the chair. "Enough of this bullshit, Felicia. What happened to your arm?"

  Felicia ignored him. "Eat him?" Her lips never moved, yet Katie heard her.

  Katie sipped some more tea. "I'm getting nauseous again. Human flesh is the only thing that makes it go away."

  Chad fell back onto the chair like a pouting child.

  "We're not cannibals," Felicia said. "You're sick. It's making you delirious."

  Chad was oblivious to the conversation.

  "You're telling me we are not having a conversation telepathically right now? I don't know what is wrong with us. But eating flesh makes it better." Katie sat the empty mug on the stack of magazines.

  The gnawing raged against Felicia's stomach with an angry force. It wasn't to be ignored. "Is that why you bit me?"

  Katie smiled. "I didn't know at the time, but yeah, it helped the pain."

  Felicia eyed Chad as he grew more agitated with the silence. His cheeks were flush and a few beads of water popped up on his forehead. The aroma of sweat seeped into Felicia's nostrils. Usually the scent disgusted her, but now, it intensified the hunger. "Smell that?"

  "Like a nice, rare steak," Katie said.

  Chad stood up. "That's it. I'm not going to sit here while you and this bitch play some game. I see where I stand with you, Felicia. The shit you have at my place will be in the hallway. Fuck you."

  Chad turned toward the door. Katie lunged and grabbed his arm, pulling him to the floor.

  "Bitch, huh?"

  Katie's mouth opened, but there were no words, just a rotten stench. Chad coughed and then gagged.

  "He can't hear you," Felicia said.

  Chad struggled to get free from Katie's grasp, but she was surprisingly strong for a woman a shade over five feet and barely one hundred pounds. He jerked his arm, but her grip tightened as she dug her nails into his flesh. Blood trickled and pooled in Chad's bent wrist. Felicia's mouth filled with saliva, mimicking the feeling she got right before vomiting. She dropped to her knees and grabbed Chad's other wrist.

  "What the hell are you doing? Let me go!" Chad said. He kicked at the floor, hoping his heels would gain traction against the laminate and help to push away from the women.

  "Do it," Katie said. "The pain will go away."

  Felicia lowered her head to Chad's arm. She opened her mouth but hesitated. Her warm, dying breath smacked Chad in the face, causing him to gag ag
ain.

  "Get the fuck away from me," he said, trying to swing his restrained fist at Felicia's face.

  The smell of Chad's flesh teased the air, seducing Felicia to take a bite. She opened her mouth again and sank her teeth into his forearm. Chad screamed. Felicia ignored him, tearing at his arm. Blood splattered her face and blonde hair.

  The sight was too tempting for Katie. She bit into Chad's shoulder, ripping a palm-sized piece of flesh away. He turned his head away from the carnage and screamed again. The move exposed his neck to Katie. Blood pulsed through his jugular, inviting her to take a bite. She tore at Chad's throat. He tried to scream but could only muster a gurgle.

  Felicia shredded more flesh from his arm. The scene turned to a blur as the nurses devoured Chad. The feeding lasted a few more minutes until Felicia lifted her head. Her face, covered in blood, was barely recognizable.

  "I feel much better." Felicia swiped the sleeve of her shirt across her mouth, leaving a streak of flesh in the blood. She fell back on her butt, when it hit her that she had just eaten another human.

  "What's wrong?" Katie brushed blood-matted hair from her face.

  "We actually ate him." Felicia stared at Katie for a moment. "And we are still communicating telepathically."

  Katie looked at what was left of Chad. "I know. But it's who we are now.”

  Eight

  The plane touched down in a small field. Through the window, Q guessed the weeds were a bit above knee high. He took a snapshot of the surroundings. Black Dog looked a lot like those ghost towns in old westerns.

  "You're good to go, sir." The voice echoing through the plane sent shivers down Q's spine. A flash of being escorted down death row bullied its way into his mind.

  Dickson stood up and stretched his arms above his head. He was calm as if he had just reached the destination of a family vacation. He turned to Q and smiled. "Ready?"

  "We're going like this?" Q asked.

  "What do you mean?"

  "No contamination suits?"

  A slight laugh escaped Dickson. "No need for those cumbersome things. We have this." He held up a tablet. "This monitors everything that could be a threat to us." He held the face of the tablet toward Q. "Monitors heat, heart rate, air quality, you name it. If there were contamination in the air, we would already know."

  "OK, then why are we here? If that thing is accurate, there is nothing here."

  "I guess I should be completely upfront. We know there’s a good chance the virus isn't here. I'm hoping to find some semblance of Hendricks' plans. Maybe what the virus is or…"

  Q cut him off. "Or how the bomb is made, right?"

  Dickson eyed Q for a few seconds before answering. "It wouldn't be the end of the world if we found that."

  The irony in Dickson's words didn't escape Q. "So, you brought me here to kill me?"

  "Are we getting paranoid, Q?"

  Q didn't answer.

  "I brought you because if we do find the formula for this virus, and it has left Black Dog, you're going to be the one to cure it. It’s the same story you were told yesterday. It’s just edited a bit."

  "Your little magic machine there…" Q pointed to the tablet. "…says the air is clean. No virus. I assume this virus was airborne the way it spread. If it is responsible for people getting sick, either someone escaped Black Dog carrying the virus or your technology isn't accurate. Both of those things scare the shit out of me."

  "Well, we didn't bring contamination suits, Q. This technology has been tested over and over again. It's fail proof."

  "So, someone left Black Dog carrying the virus. That's great."

  Q pushed by Dickson and exited the plane. The smell of fresh air surprised Q. He expected a mixture of death and destruction. To his left was a patch of trees, healthy and green as in any forest. To his right was an intact house; beside it was an empty space that used to be occupied by a house. Given the plot area, it was about the same size as the one standing. Black Dog looked haunted, but not all that scary.

  Dickson exited the plane and stood next to Q.

  "Not the war zone you were expecting?"

  "It's the graveyard I expected," Q said, eyeing a swing set that creaked eerily in the slight wind.

  "I thought you were having second thoughts about stepping foot here."

  Q turned, immediately recognizing the man as his admirer in the grocery store. Sickness sank in the pit of his stomach. How long have they been watching me? Do they have my house bugged? Do they know I talked to Nick?

  "Q, this is Richard Knox. He's in charge of keeping this place free of curious wanderers."

  "Apparently, he is a stalker too," Q said.

  "What?"

  "He followed me around last night at the store."

  Knox smirked and extended his hand to shake. "Sorry about that, but I like to know the people I'm going into battle with. How was the cricket bar?"

  Q shook his hand. "Richard, huh. Mind if I call you Dick?"

  "You figure out what's happening with this virus, and you can call me anything you like."

  "All right, Rich, give us the tour," Dickson said.

  "Not really all that much to see. It's kind of dead around here." Knox laughed, and was the only one to find his joke funny. "Tough crowd. OK, well it looks like Hendricks set up base about a mile and half up the road behind that diner."

  A sign that read LUTHER's DINER struggled to stay attached to a metal pole as the wind picked up. Q imagined an airborne virus attached itself to anyone in its trajectory. It was a scary thought that it spread so fast in a small town. It was a nightmare to think of it hitching a ride on New York City wind.

  Knox started toward the diner. "We've checked things out and couldn't find anything. Maybe you'll have better luck."

  Dickson walked behind Rich, never taking his eyes off the tablet. "We're looking good. Air quality is good."

  "Hector was here a few days before we arrived. I monitored him religiously. The air is much cleaner than D.C.," Knox said.

  "Hector?" Q asked.

  "Hector is a mechanical device created to warn us of dangerous situations. He's like a wingman when you're thinking of taking a four home after a long night of drinking," Knox said.

  "A robot?" Q asked.

  "Don't say that word around Hector. You'll hurt his feelings."

  "That's not Hector, is it?" Q asked, watching a man approach. He was tall and wide. Q estimated at least a solid six-eight and four hundred pounds.

  "That's Tiny," Knox said.

  "No, that's cliché," Q said.

  "Say it to his face," Knox said.

  "All right, you two, cut it out," Dickson said, prying his eyes away from the tablet.

  "Dickson, how the hell have you been?"

  "Been better, Tiny. Please tell me you've found something beneficial."

  "Wish I could. There isn't much left here. But this may help." Tiny handed a small notebook to Dickson. "Guess it's a journal of someone who was infected."

  Q took the journal as Tiny was about to hand it to Dickson. There was a name on the inside cover: RICHIE KINCAID.

  "Does that name ring a bell?" Dickson asked.

  Q knew Richie well. He worked with Kincaid for a few months on an e-coli outbreak several years earlier. Q lost touch after that but still saw Richie at the occasional conference.

  "I knew him. I thought he died in that plane crash."

  "We had to say that. We couldn't let it get out that a mysterious virus killed one of the world's leading microbiologists," Dickson said.

  "And Carolyn Swann?" Q asked.

  Dickson exhaled hard enough to coat the tablet with a thin fog. "I know Carolyn was your fiancée. I'm sorry. But based on the intel we were given, she wasn't infected. She died in the crash."

  A moment of relief washed over Q. Imagining Carolyn suffering through sickness was too much. It was easier to think of her going quickly, not feeling pain.

  "The book?" Knox pointed to Q's hand.

&nbs
p; Q flipped through the pages, noting a date written on the top of one. "It's definitely a journal." He froze at one entry.

  It's in survival mode. It knows if I die, it dies. It's shutting my body down to save itself. My heart rate is 30 BPM.

  "This isn't possible," Q said. "Richie thought the virus had actual thought patterns, as if it was controlling his body, and it knew it." He stopped at another entry.

  I'm so hungry and you look good enough to eat…I cannot believe I said that to Carolyn. What the hell am I turning into?

  Q couldn't get past the mention of Carolyn. She had been here. She witnessed what happened in Black Dog.

  "Well, what does it say?" Dickson asked.

  "Richie developed a taste for human flesh," Q said.

  "Shit. So, it is in the wild," Dickson said. "Broome had it. He tried to eat those cops…"

  "What the fuck have you gotten us into, Dickson?" Knox asked.

  "This virus is still active?" Tiny asked.

  "Appears to be," Q said, handing the notebook to Dickson. "You still have faith in your little magic machine?"

  Dickson swiped at the tablet's screen. No alerts. No threats.

  "I have complete confidence in Hector," Knox said.

  "Well, that's reassuring, considering Hector is a machine and cannot catch this virus," Q said.

  "Where did you get this guy, Dickson?" Knox asked.

  Dickson ignored the question. "Can we get going? Time is of essence here."

  "Hendricks's base is around that corner," Tiny said.

  Q took a moment to admire the sun's glare shimmering on the lake on the backside of what used to be Luther's Diner. He imagined this would have been the perfect place to retire and grow old with Carolyn.

  "Q, you coming?" Dickson said, motioning for Q to catch up.

  "How long have you been here?" Q asked Tiny between shallowed breaths. It was painfully obvious that he had neglected cardio as of late.

  "On and off, ever since the accident."

  "Accident? We both know what happened here was no accident," Q said.

  Tiny stopped and turned to Q. "I like my job." He then mouthed, "And I like being alive."

  The look of fear that overtook the giant's face caused Q's skin to ripple with gooseflesh.