by Key, Thomas
In the far corner of the room sat a small boy; he was maybe around seven years old. The child's back was to the door as he sat, playing with a couple of hot wheel cars on a play mat. An empty children's sized hospital bed was by one wall, and a pile of trash was in another corner. Empty water bottles, sodas and candy bar wrappers were scattered around the room. Kenneth watched for a moment before continuing to take a few more steps into the room. "Hey," he said quietly. The boy quickly turned and stood, a look of sheer terror showing on his face. Kenneth put up his hands in a placating manor. "It's okay," Ken said, trying to be reassuring. The boy backed up against the wall, staring at the man. "Are you a monster?" the boy asked. Ken shook his head adamantly. "No, I'm not infected. I'm just a regular guy. Are you alright?" Ken asked. The boy seemed to relax a bit. "I'm Ken. What's your name?" he said. The boy gave him an odd look. "Like Barbie and Ken?" he asked. Kenneth gave a small chuckle. "Not exactly. I'm not made of plastic." The boy seemed to accept that answer. "My name is Bobby," the boy said. "It's nice to meet you," said Ken. Bobby had a striped child sized polo that was stained with juice stains and possibly that of some condiments. His jeans were just as dirty as his shirt, and his shoes were worn down. Ken held out a hand and Bobby shook it. As Kenneth shook the small child's hand, he glanced down and saw something on the top side of the boy's arm. He stopped shaking his hand and turned his arm over. Almost halfway between Bobby's wrist and his elbow was a round set of marks. As Ken looked at it, it resembled a fresh bite mark. With a quick step backward, Kenneth gasped. "You were bitten?" he asked with despair. "Yeah, but I'm okay. I was looking for medicine, but I couldn't find any help and I didn't know what to get," the boy responded. For a moment, hope broke out from Ken's heart that maybe this boy was immune. He'd heard that a small percentage of the population was said to be immune or at least, resistant to the virus. As he looked at the boy, however, he saw one of the first signs of infection. The sweat was beginning to form on his forehead. Dark circles around the boy’s eyes, and a very thin frame told Ken his time here had been very difficult. Kenneth's mind raced, trying to rationalize the boy’s condition. Maybe he had a cold, or something else that was causing the sweat. Maybe he'd be okay, but he felt in his soul that it was too late.
The boy saw his face fall and asked the man, "What's wrong?" Kenneth seemed surprised to be asked that question. Did the kid not know that the bites are the most obvious way to get infected? Did this small innocent child not know that his end may be coming much sooner than he ever expected? Of course not. Children feel invincible. It’s why they play in the street and climb trees. What the hell was he supposed to do? Should he tell the boy that he was going to die, or pretend that nothing is wrong? Could he aim his holstered pistol at the kid, and fire one shot into the poor kid’s head and end his life before the absolute torture of infection starts? Could he do it? He didn't know the answer, and it tore at him. He finally stammered out the words, "Nothing." The kid didn't take his eyes off the man, but he looked down at his bite mark. He covered it up with his shirt and turned around to pick up his toys. "Can you help me find medicine?" Bobby asked. Ken felt as if he wanted to just hit his knees and cry. What kind of God would allow for this bullshit to happen? Why did this kid deserve to die like this? "Yes," was all that he could say in response. Bobby approached him and took his hand. His tiny hand was soft and warm to the touch. "I know where a bunch of medicine is," he said hopefully as he pointed down the hall. He let the boy lead him in the direction that he had been pointing.
Down the hall and one floor below was a pharmacy. Presbyterian had two of them in the building apparently. It hadn't been raided, but it seemed like while the panic happened, a lot of the meds had been dispensed. The boy led him to the room and then sat down on the floor. The sweat became more prominent on his forehead. Ken found what he needed; several brands of antibiotics and other first aid items. After filling up his pack, his sight came across hydrocodone. He put the bottle in his pocket. "What did you need the medicine for?" Ken asked the boy as he slid down next to him. Bobby looked exhausted and leaned against Ken while they both sat. Kenneth could feel heat radiating from him through their clothes. "Everybody left. There were loud noises and it was really scary. I heard cop cars outside and people yelling and screaming," the boy said as he laid there. He began to cough, hard. Ken pulled out a water bottle and gave it to the boy. He drank it greedily. "My friend, Edgar was here with me. We were hiding from the monsters. He's my best friend," Bobby said. "He went to the potty and got really sick. If I had medicine, I could fix him," he said. "He’s still in the potty. It's been a long time. Do you think he’s okay?" he asked, looking into Ken's eyes. "We'll check on him. Okay?" he said in response. Another cough racked the child's body, and he covered his mouth with his hand. The hand came away bloody. "Am I sick too?" Bobby asked as he looked at the blood. "Yes, you are," Ken responded. "We've got medicine now though. The best kind. We'll make it go away," he said as he turned to Bobby who was watching him silently. He reached out the open bottle. "Let me see your hand." Kenneth told the boy. Bobby held it out for him, and Ken dropped a half dozen 20mg capsules of the hydro into his small frail hand. "They look big," he said as he took the proffered pills. Ken nodded and set down his backpack. Inside were two more bottles of water, among the other supplies and medicine that he just acquired. He pulled one of the water bottles out and handed it to Bobby. He then pointed back the way they came. "Let's go back to the room." Bobby led the way once again, his tiny hand holding Ken's as they walked.
They reached the room quickly, and Kenneth sat down heavily into a plastic chair. He motioned for the kid to give him the medicine and the water bottle. He popped open the water and broke the capsules and poured each of their contents into the water. He was not going to let this child suffer the death that fate handed him. He shook the bottle of water, making sure the contents were dispersed in the water. As he handed the bottle to Bobby and a look of pure agony overtook the boy. He hit the ground, grabbing at his stomach and nearly screamed in pain. Ken rushed to him, holding him. He was burning up with a fever. The infection was spreading rapidly. He didn't have much time. The pain seemed to let up and the child looked back at him. Ken gave him the bottle of water, as he sat down next to him. "You've got to drink it all, as quickly as you can. This is the best medicine they had. It'll help," he told the boy. He grasped the bottle and thanked him. He downed half of it in just a few moments. He took a breath and looked at Ken again. "I'm glad you came," he said. "When I'm better, can we find my mom?" Ken felt like a knife just went through his heart. Tears welled up in Ken's eyes and began to flow freely. "Yeah, buddy. We'll find your mom." The boy smiled. A smile that would haunt Ken for the rest of his life. “Thanks.” The boy said back contently as he drank a little more of the water. Minutes passed by and Ken just watched the little man. The boy carried on without a care in the world. He kept smiling and humming a song that only the little one could remember. The smile fell away from the little boys’ face as he suddenly fell forward and started to have a seizure. Kenneth watching in pure agony as the boy shook violently, then slowly stopped moving. He held the boy’s head in his hands and after another few moments, Bobby stopped breathing. He heard what sounded like four or five gunshots ring out from somewhere downstairs a few moments later. He waited a full five more minutes, before closing the boy's eyes and leaving the room. On his way back to the staircase leading downstairs, he came to the boys’ restroom. He stepped inside slowly. The door closed behind him and for a moment nothing but silence was heard. Then the sound of a round being fired suddenly echoed through the pediatric ward. Ken reentered the hallway, letting the door hit him in the back as he did so. He didn’t feel it at all though. The grief in his soul was all that he could feel. He moved to the staircase and followed it down to the bottom floor. Shortly after, he found the main entrance where not a zombie was to be found. He walked out of the front doors and never looked back.
Chapter 10: Isabel and Rachel'
s Story
Rachel heard the door close behind the two men as they left and headed in the direction of the hospital. She heard a rustling sound from inside of the living room and opened her previously clenched shut eyelids. She saw Isabel look through the window blinds as she sat watching the two men go. Rachel began to grow concerned for a moment that as soon as the men were out of earshot, the woman might just bolt, leaving her all alone. As she watched though, the woman closed the blinds and sat down in a chair next to the couch. The living room was spacious but a little run down, with visible cracks in the walls. She could also see layers of dust and a few cobwebs in the corners too. Rachel looked at Isabel and asked her, "So.... What's your story?" she said with nearly clenched teeth. The pain had lessened but was still intense. Bella looked in her direction and began to speak. "I was in Santa Fe when everything started. I grew up there," she responded. "My parents both got sick. They got the virus. I stayed as long as I could, watching one and then the other die. My father made me promise before he passed that after they both died, I would shoot each of them in the head," she said with a pause. "So, I did. I then packed everything that I could carry, and I started walking. I made it out of Santa Fe before the big migrations that everyone heard about, when the governor basically said that the spread couldn't be contained. I hiked from there to Albuquerque. I just kind of wandered around from place to place, with no real destination. Once I got here though the panic was in full swing." A dark look crossed over her face. "I found a two-story house that was empty. I broke in and stayed in the upstairs bedroom. I watched as people were killing each other in the streets. I once saw an older couple packing their things into their van across the street, and this gang thug rolled up on them. I couldn't hear what he said, but he pulled out a gun. The old man brought his cane up as if to hit the man, but the gang banger fired. He killed the woman next, and then sorted through their stuff. I saw him take some food and water and then leave the rest. After that, I got back into the bed and just stayed there for the next few days until things quieted down. I have been scavenging ever since." Rachel felt grief for the woman. In the zombapoc, they all had similar terrible stories. Stories of lost loved ones, and of unspeakable horrors that they witnessed. The cruelty of mankind is truly unrivaled in the animal kingdom.
“What did you do before?” Rachel asked the woman, more out of curiosity than anything else. “I was a security guard for a casino.” Rachel’s eyebrow raised ever so slightly. Bella caught the moment and chuckled. “I wasn’t armed or anything like that and was mostly there to help tourists find the bathrooms. It was good pay though and by no means the worst job that I’ve ever held,” she said matter-of-factly. After Isabel had told her story, Rachel thought it only fair if she told hers in return. So, she began, "I was a baker." Bella looked at her with her own raised eyebrow. Rachel almost laughed out loud. "Yeah, I know. Ever since I was a little kid, I just wanted to bake. Cupcakes were my specialty. I went through all the hurdles and eventually had my own business. It was going quite well. I even got to do a VIP's wedding. I had to make nearly 300 cupcakes for it..." she trailed off. Another round of sharp pain brought her back to the present. Once the rush passed, she started up again. "When the outbreaks started all over the country, the customers, of course, stopped coming. There were whole days where I didn't see a single person. Not much need to celebrate something with cupcakes when everyone in the city was either sick or trying to pack up and leave. I closed my shop down after two days of that emptiness. I went home and sat and watched the news the whole next day. I didn't realize just how bad things had gotten. The next day was when I saw the long lines of cars leaving Albuquerque. Of course, it was more stop than go. I'm not sure how people thought they could get away from it," she paused again, sighing. "Like a giant swarm of locusts, several hundred infected began moving along the I40, going east towards the mountains. The news showed the infected doing the same in every direction out of town, following the people. They swallowed up every survivor along their path. The hundreds turned into thousands, a line of Zs a mile long. The news choppers were still in the air and showing it for us all to see. There was nothing anyone could do. After the panic, I stayed at my home, a little one-bedroom apartment in a complex called Lucaya." She adjusted herself slightly. "I was just sitting in the corner of my bedroom, hearing gunshots and screams for what seemed like forever. Until one day, I heard someone on a bullhorn. Can you believe that? Who uses a bullhorn with all of this shit going on?" She smiled through the pain. She noticed Bella give a small chuckle in response. "Anyway, it turns out, it was Shepherd. I remember hearing something like, 'If you are alive, and can hear me, please stay put. We will be going door to door. If you can hear me, place a piece of cloth or paper outside of your front door. This will let us know that someone is alive inside.' He repeated it twice. It was about two hours, and several gunshots later that I heard someone in the hallway of my apartment. My apartment was about midway down the hall," she said, taking a breath to wipe sweat from her forehead. "I heard them knock on each door, then open each one. They must have gotten the keys from the leasing office. When they got to my door, I just about ripped it open to hug my rescuers. When I opened the door though I was greeted with the barrel of a gun in my face. I completely froze. The gun lowered, and I saw the man, Shepherd, in the hallway. I socked him right in the face for pointing that gun at me." Bella and Rachel both laughed. As painful as it was, she couldn't help it. "I helped pick him up from the floor, and then I hugged him." Rachel thought back to that day as if it were yesterday. "Shep was perplexed at why I had decked him, but he still hugged me back. He asked if I wanted to go downstairs with the others, but I said no. I told him to give me a gun. He did." Rachel smiled again. "We've been a team ever since."
Chapter 11: Isabel
Rachel lay still on the couch, having passed out from the pain. Isabel slowly walked from window to window, trying to peer out into the darkness. Occasionally, she'd see a shadow in the moonlight down the street. As much as her body told her she should sit down and rest, she knew she could not. She had a job to do, and after spending so much time on her own, she refused to be alone anymore. She felt in her soul that these were good people. She began to lose focus as her thoughts began to wander and began to pace back and forth through the living room of their temporary abode. She checked another window absently and saw a light on in the next house over. The light seemed to flicker randomly. A candle most likely, she thought to herself. She walked back over to Rachel and shook her gently. "Hey, I think that there's someone next door," she said quietly. Rachel didn't awaken. She shook her harder but to no avail. She felt for a pulse and found one. Rachel was breathing lightly, and had a definite fever coming on. Shit. She thought to herself, running a hand through her hair. She went back to the window, seeing that the light was still there. Isabel made the decision to investigate, and hopefully would be back before Shepherd and Ken returned. Quietly gathering her gear and her weapon, she made sure everything was locked up, except the back door. That would be her egress point. She gently shut the door behind her and walked into the crisp night. The cold air felt invigorating to her as she moved through the dirt backyard. A small wooden fence stood between the two houses, she climbed it easily. She landed with a light thud, checking around the target house for any surprises. A quality of New Mexican backyards was that they were mostly composed of dirt and not grass or plant life. She had made a little bit of noise with her landing, but unless someone was out there specifically listening for her, she didn't think it would be of any concern. She stepped up to the back door and gave the handle a slow turn. Locked. She sighed and made her way around to the front of the house. This time, the door was unlocked. She opened it slowly and only darkness greeted her. She entered quickly, closing the door behind her. Turning her head side to side, she saw nothing moving anywhere in the living room or small kitchen. This house, just like the one that Rachel sat in, was of the same style. They generally consisted of large living room
s with small kitchens and old appliances. It had been a well-used family home, with a dozen photos littering each wall. Another trait of older New Mexican homes were the crosses and pictures of Jesus were almost required. Families here were generally very tight knit and took their religion very seriously. She moved her flashlight along the edges of each of the downstairs rooms and found nothing. As she continued to observe the room, she heard a footstep above her.