by Russ Melrose
"The vaccine," she gasped. "We have to get the vaccine." And she grabbed me by the arm and led me down the office aisle.
"Vaccine? What are you talking about?"
"There's a vaccine," she said absently as she glanced at the names on the office doors. She stopped four offices down where the name on the door spelled out Albert Munson, Chief Accounting Officer.
Then she got down on her knees in the office cubicle directly across from Munson's office and frantically searched the floor in the cubicle.
"A colleague … a close friend of mine … sent me a formula for a vaccine two years ago," she said. "He said if something terrible ever happened, to send the vaccine to the CDC in Atlanta. Two weeks later my friend was dead. He drowned. Of course, he didn't know how to swim and he was terrified of the water. Never went near it.
"The first weekend, I emailed the formula to the CDC. I had no idea if the vaccine was the right one for the virus." Dr. Nardone continued to search the cubicle floor, then she paused and looked up at me. "I never heard back from the CDC. But the next day I got a call from Lukas Melzer asking me if I would be willing to be part of a joint effort to help create a vaccine for the virus. He knew about the email. He had to have. They must have intercepted it. I would have been a fool to say no."
She squinted as she looked around, and I realized she was no longer wearing her glasses. They must have taken them off her when they tied her up.
"I tossed the thumb drive with the vaccine formula into this cubicle when Alvaro and the others escorted me into the building," she told me. "I'm sure it was this cubicle. It has to be here."
From the front of the room came the sharp sound of wood snapping apart. One of the chairs had given way and I heard them stumble into the room.
"C'mon, we have to go. Now!" I yelled at her. But she kept looking under the desk and feeling around.
"There, I see it. I'm sure that's it." And she stretched herself under the desk to retrieve it.
The first infected into the office aisle was the construction guy. He let out a hysterical cry when he saw me. He careened down the aisle, one leg moving faster than the other, his arms churning at the air.
"Hurry, Dr. Nardone!" I screamed.
She was out from underneath the desk and had pushed herself up onto her hands and knees. She held the thumb drive greedily in a closed fist. She was breathing hard, gasping for air, and her face was red from the blood rushing to it. She glanced at me for help, but there wasn't time. Construction man would be on us long before I'd be able to help Dr. Nardone pick herself up off the floor.
I angled myself toward him as if I were a batter facing a pitcher. I gripped the bat nervously but couldn't find my confidence. What I felt was fear. It was all I felt.
Ever since the talk with Melzer, I'd had the sinking feeling my luck had run out. I had to snap out of it. I smashed the bat on the floor as hard as I could and screamed maniacally at the top of my lungs and wagged my head back and forth like some madman.
Construction guy was bearing down on me, a few seconds away. I adjusted my stance to face him directly. Behind him, several more infected burst around the corner and into the aisle. I gritted my teeth.
At the last moment, I dropped to my knees to my left and drew the bat back. He wasn't able to adjust quickly enough. I swung the bat fiercely at his tibia with every ounce of strength I could muster. At the same time, he took a wild swipe and clubbed me on the left temple. The blows were simultaneous and both had an effect. I heard the bone snap in his leg and was aware of him tumbling past me. I weaved back and forth in the air without purpose and had to reach down to the carpet to keep myself upright. The bat lay next to me on the floor, but I didn't remember dropping it.
I'd been stunned by the blow. The other infected were coming, but they weren't nearly as fast as construction guy. I grabbed the bat and pushed myself up to my feet. I felt light headed and wobbly.
Construction guy had spotted Dr. Nardone and was crawling excitedly toward her, dragging his broken leg behind him. Dr. Nardone was finally on her feet but she was trapped in the cubicle, her backside up against the computer desk. She screamed in an odd voice, like someone saying aah loudly for the doctor over and over again.
Sarah and Becky stood at the end of the aisle watching us. I wondered why they hadn't left. I walked unsteadily over to construction guy and raised the bat above my head and brought it down flush on his skull and he stopped crawling.
I grabbed Dr. Nardone by the arm and dragged her out of the cubicle.
"We have to run," I yelled at her.
And she ran with me, but I kept hold of her arm, more for me than for her. We ran to the end of the aisle and then the four of us hustled to the back door.
"The vaccine," Dr. Nardone said to Sarah in explanation for our detour, opening her hand to show the thumb drive.
Sarah gave us a confused look, but there wasn't time for an explanation.
The security bar was gone. I unlocked the deadbolt and the door handle and spoke quickly. "Here's what we'll do. Sarah, you'll open the door. I'll go out with the bat and go after any infected outside. Dr. Nardone, you'll come out after me. If it's clear, you go to the front passenger side of the truck. The truck's locked so you'll have to wait till I open it. Sarah, you and Becky will get in the back. If I can't get the keys, Sarah, you get them and open the doors. Then get yourself and Becky into the truck and get it started and ready to go. Everyone clear?"
I was surprised I'd spoken as clearly and succinctly as I had. They all nodded.
I looked at Sarah. "Remember to come outside," I told her. She gave me a strange look. Then I was confused as to why I'd said it.
We could hear them coming. They'd be here in a matter of seconds. Sarah grabbed the door knob and waited for me to signal her, and I gave her a nod and she opened the door.
I stepped out onto the landing with my bat ready. There was no sign of the infected anywhere. I scanned the parking lot and it was empty save for the Tundra and the Elantra. The deserted lot didn't feel right, but I couldn't explain why. As I'd hoped, the infected had headed for the front of the building. I stood there feeling disoriented and foggy, like when you wake up from too much sleep and your mind isn't quite calibrated yet. I seemed a step behind mentally. Dr. Nardone raced past me and ran to the passenger side door, gripping the thumb drive tightly in both hands. She stood by the truck and looked around nervously.
I looked back to Sarah and thought I heard myself telling her to go. She and Becky came through the door and closed it behind them. I heard a familiar scream and was confused and wondered if there'd been two screams. I knew one of the screams had come from Becky because she was standing right next to me holding onto her mother.
The Swimmer had hold of Dr. Nardone. He'd appeared as if out of nowhere. He had to have been hiding behind the front grill of the truck. The three of us stood paralyzed like statues on the steps.
The Swimmer was facing us, his arms wrapped around Dr. Nardone, pinning her arms to her sides.
It was Dr. Nardone who'd screamed. I realized it now, though her screaming was like a fragment of a memory that kept slipping through my mind. She shivered wildly in his grip and whimpered like a frightened child. A line of urine trailed down the inside of her leg and dripped into a small puddle next to her foot. The thumb drive lay on the pavement next to her.
The Swimmer was using Dr. Nardone as a shield. I thought he might be afraid of getting shot again. He didn't know I was unarmed. I doubted he knew what a gun was. While I could see less than half of his face, I could sense his fierce resolve.
I realized the other infected would have heard the screams and would be coming now. Since the front of the building was a half block away, I thought we might have four or five minutes before they arrived.
I had to act, but my mind was dulled and I was drawing a blank.
Sarah grabbed me by the arm. "Jake. We have to do something."
"Yes," I told her. And then I started to tak
e my backpack off. "Get the keys, get in the truck, get it started, and then go."
"What? What about you and Dr. Nardone?" Sarah asked.
I turned and she was staring at me oddly. I didn't answer her and had lost track of the question.
"Are you all right?" she asked.
"I'm fine," I told her, though I was certain she wasn't buying it.
"You have to get out of here now, Sarah," I told her.
I didn't give her time to respond. I walked down the steps and tossed my backpack into the bed of the Tundra. Sarah and Becky followed behind me. I heard the helicopter as it flew over us and made its way up the East Bench and beyond. I squinted from the bright sunlight that bathed the parking lot. It seemed so much brighter than normal. The midday sun felt like a dead-eyed laser on the back of my neck.
Sarah searched the truck bed for the keys and found them.
The savage intensity I'd felt the first time I'd faced the Swimmer was nowhere to be found. I gripped the bat and clubbed it once on the pavement trying to wake myself up, but it didn't work. Not this time. I felt as if a sharp schism had occurred in my fragile brain and the vibration from it had yet to subside. I needed to wait till my head righted itself, but I didn't have the time.
The Swimmer clamped a hand on top of Dr. Nardone's skull. A moment later he turned her head sharply to the left, exposing the right side of her neck. Dr. Nardone yelped, then went back to quietly whimpering as if she thought any extra noise might upset him. I knew what was coming, but the Swimmer seemed to be waiting on me.
Sarah and Becky were still standing near the back of the truck, and I couldn't understand why they weren't in the Tundra yet.
"Go, Sarah!" I yelled at her. "Get out of here!" And then I made a mad dash for the Swimmer and Dr. Nardone. I lifted the bat above my head as I ran. I thought if I got lucky, I might be able to club the Swimmer on the head, maybe stun him. But before I'd finished taking the first step, the Swimmer had torn into Dr. Nardone's neck, ripping away the flesh with his teeth. Then he casually spat it on the ground next to him. Rivulets of blood dribbled down onto his chin and chest.
Arterial blood sprayed from Dr. Nardone's wound in a spinning arc as she turned her head away from the wound as if she were trying to disown it. But she couldn't escape, and the Swimmer spun her roughly to the ground.
I was nearly on him, and despite the fragile condition of my mind, I swung the bat in an overhead arc as if driving a pick ax into his head. But he gobbled the bat up with one hand and ripped it out of my grasp. He gave the bat a glance and tossed it dismissively to the pavement where it clattered and bounced a few times before coming to rest.
I took an unsteady step back, then another. Out of the corner of my eye, I caught a glimpse of Dr. Nardone. Her face was pasty white and she lay on her side with her knees tucked inward. Though she was dying, she lay in a fetal position as if she'd come full circle. She gasped for air but choked on blood instead. She held both her hands to the wound in her neck, trying to stem the inevitable flow, but the blood seeped through her fingers and onto the pavement. There would be no stopping it. She had to have known it was too late, but she tried to hold on anyway.
The Swimmer kept his sharp, blue-green eyes on me, surveying me like a predator. He looked unreal with the ghostly ash-white skin, like a shaman with his face painted white. He knew he had me. He knew it and I knew it. Then I heard the abrupt click of the Tundra's locks being unlocked. I looked back and Sarah held her arm up, key fob pointed at the truck. She grabbed Becky and they hustled around to the driver's side. I lunged for the door handle, but he was on me before I could open the door.
He grabbed me by the scruff of the neck and the back shoulder of my t-shirt. He tore me away from the door and flung me down to the ground. I righted myself onto my butt and scrambled backwards away from him. My senses were coming back.
And I couldn't help but notice the moment had a ring of familiarity to it, a sensation reminiscent of my adolescent days. The same feeling I'd had during any one of the childhood confrontations I'd had where I knew I was about to lose. And while I felt resigned to certain defeat, a part of me stubbornly opposed the inevitable.
The Swimmer limped determinedly toward me, mirroring my every movement and quickly cutting the distance between us. If he felt any pain from the bullet wound, he didn't show it. Then I heard the truck door crack open and I felt a sense of relief.
He pounced on me before I knew what was happening. He pinned me flat on my back. He hovered menacingly over me like some avenging incubus, his face twisted in insatiable rage, his ash-white face suddenly filled with blood. He sat on my abdomen, his knees and legs pinching my sides, rendering me immobile. I felt as if my body were clamped tight in a vise. His hands went for my throat and I couldn't fend him off. I grabbed him around the wrists, but he was too strong. He forced his hands to my throat and began to squeeze. I could feel the air being cut off and I gasped for air without making a sound. I couldn't move my head and I began to feel acute pressure in my eyes as if they were being squeezed too. I was frantic and started hitting his forearms with my fists to see if I could get him off me.
Then I heard the thrum of the engine as Sarah started the truck and I knew everything would be all right. At least they would get away. The Swimmer's hands relaxed from my neck as he started to get up to go after them. I coughed harshly gasping for air and felt a sharp pain in my neck. I reached for his wrists before he had a chance to get up and gripped them as tight as I could and pulled him toward me. The Swimmer made a brief, half-hearted effort to pull away as if I were a bothersome gnat. But I held firm, and he relented and came back at me with a vengeance. His hands were around my neck again and he leaned within inches of my face. This time he shook my neck violently as he squeezed it. I tightened my neck muscles to keep from being strangled and I kept my hands around his wrists and tried to pry his arms off me, but I couldn't budge him.
The Swimmer fixed his hazel eyes on mine and a brutal intensity shined through them. And if I could read his eyes, and I thought I could, they were telling me of his dominance over me. He wanted me to know that he was killing me. And it occurred to me that killing me satisfied some primal need within him.
I closed my eyes and my head became light as a feather. Streams of white dots flashed before my eyes like shooting stars. I was about to lose consciousness. I could feel echoes of pain, but they were fading like a lost memory, replaced by an overwhelming sense of peace, and I knew it would be all right for me to let go. I didn't need to be afraid any longer. A familiar feeling of lightness and incredible warmth beckoned me like an old friend, drew me toward it, and I followed.
And though my eyes were still closed, and I was certain that they were, I somehow saw my left hand falling lifelessly away from the Swimmer's wrist, followed by my right hand. I gave it no thought as if it had nothing to do with me. My arms and hands fell harmlessly to the pavement as everything unfolded neatly in its time and place.
And then I heard a word screamed with unflinching resolution. The sound of it split the air, rising sharply before dissipating back into the void. I was sure what the word had been: "No!" And then there was another sound—the sharp thunk of a baseball bat striking bone, clear and pristine. And a few seconds later, the sound repeated, accompanied by another, "No!"
Then I heard her call my name and I was suddenly thrust back into the pain. I tried to breathe but the pain only got worse. The wonderful feeling had vanished and I didn't know how to get it back. And then I heard a door open and then there was the clanking sound of something thrown onto the floor of the truck.
Then she was back and she lifted me up gently, cupping her hands behind my neck. "Jake," she cried urgently. "We have to go. They're coming. C'mon, open your eyes." And then she slapped me twice, hard enough that I felt it. "Wake up. You're going to be okay. But we have to get going. Right now, Jacob! Get up! Right now!"
I had no response. My world consisted of breathing as quietly as I could to ke
ep the pain at bay. And then she started to lift me and I stiffened and opened my eyes in protest. Then I saw the panic in her eyes. She kept peeking over her shoulder as if she were expecting the grim reaper, but he didn't concern me at all. And I couldn't help but notice how beautiful Sarah was even with the bruised, worried face.
I heard the excited rasping breaths and I knew they were close and getting closer. I also knew she wasn't going to leave me there. I knew she would keep at me, keep pestering me till I went with her. I didn't know why she couldn't just let me go. Finally, I helped her since I knew she wasn't going to give up, and the two of us managed to get me to my feet. Sarah helped me to the truck's open back door and I crawled onto the back seat and lay there. Sarah closed the door behind her and climbed into the front seat from the back. A few seconds later we were gone.
I was stretched out on my stomach on the back seat. I gripped the front edge of the seat to keep myself balanced. I didn't want to move. My head lay fragile on its side facing the back seat. I focused on the pain hoping to lessen its intensity. I knew my neck wasn't broken since I could move it and the rest of my body. But I didn't dare move for fear of making the pain worse.
The Tundra roared up the street. Sarah was driving fast. I grabbed the seat belt receptacle with my left hand and used my feet against the door to brace myself.
"Mom," Becky drew out slowly, as if in warning. And then I heard a distinct thump on the left front fender and I guessed we must have hit one of them. Sarah made a sharp right turn and then we were driving through front yards. There were a few soft bumps here and there, but I managed to keep my head immobile. And then she swung left and we were out on the street again.
I managed to talk without moving my head, but my voice was scratchy and barely registered above a whisper. "Sarah … we need to get to a house … on the top of the East Bench. Okay?"