The Infected: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller

by Cronan, Matt

  "What's going to seem even more impossible is the event you two remember so vividly—the infection—happened over 300 years ago."

  There was a long pause. Sam tried to comprehend the words: 300 years ago. She couldn't. It didn't make sense. None of this did. "You've lost your mind," she said.

  "I wish that was the case," Holden said. "But I assure you, I'm very much in control of my facilities."

  "But why?" Sam asked. "How?"

  "Your DNA is resistant to the virus," Holden said. "It possesses a certain genetic makeup we can neither identify nor duplicate. The weekly blood samples are collected to produce an anti-viral drug that's then administered to the citizens of Concordia."

  Silence.

  "The actual kill percentage of the virus fell more in the 97 percent range," Holden continued. "A large majority of survivors were cryogenically frozen and are reactivated as others from around the country pass on. The—"

  "You're a liar!" Jordan slammed both his hands down onto the wooden table. "What would be the point? Why put on this charade? Why erase our memories and force us to live out in this Hell on Earth? Why not just keep us in the lab and milk us like cattle?"

  "Because we're their science experiment," Robertson said. Her cold words sent chills up Sam's spine.

  "New Hope, along with several other facilities around the country, is functioning as a giant science project," Holden said. "The primary purpose is blood cultivation but the secondary initiative is to test how far humans can be pushed. Where is the breaking point in mankind?"

  "No—" Jordan started but Holden continued.

  "Everything is monitored and recorded. The foods you eat, where you sleep, what you do. They're all controlled experiments. They harvest the data and implement it into how the citizens of Concordia live their life. The goal of the science project is to use the data collected to create a utopia in the center of Hell."

  "It's not true," Jordan said.

  "These science experiments have been happening since long before I was born. I've watched them since I was an intern in the Ministry's Science department. I've seen the horrors your people are subjected to." Holden's voice was grim and when he finished he sighed.

  "You've seen the horrors?" Jordan asked. "Try living through them. Try watching everyone you love get taken away from you. Try living in a shit-box like New Hope."

  "I can't imagine the struggles you've suffered," Holden said.

  "No, you can't," Jordan said.

  "That's why I'm telling you this," Holden continued. "The six executed today were working for me."

  "The ones that let in the infected?" Sam asked.

  "They didn't let in the infected," Holden said. "I did."

  8

  A deafening silence swallowed the room. The revelation caused Sam's insides to ache. Rebecca had died because of him. She struggled to stay in her seat. Her blood boiled and every muscle fiber yearned to rise out of her chair and rip out Holden Deckard's throat.

  "The recruits' job," Holden continued, "was to infiltrate New Hope's data warehouse and collect as much evidence as possible. The majority of Concordia's citizens aren't aware of this facility's existence, and the purpose of the resistance is to pull back the curtain. Expose the dirty truth behind it all. The Ministry caught them hacking into the computers and I needed a distraction to obtain the information they'd collected before—"

  "A distraction?" Sam asked. Her hands trembled with anger. "That distraction cost the life of a little girl. Did you know that?"

  Holden looked down at the table and frowned. "Robertson made me aware of the child's death along with several others." When he looked back up, his eyes gleamed wet. "Was she important to you?"

  "Very," Sam said.

  He nodded. "I am sorry. I don't take the tragedy of the girl's death lightly. Or any of the others. I did what needed to be done to ensure that we can move forward."

  "Her name was Rebecca," Sam said.

  "Yes," Holden said.

  "Say it."

  "I'm sorry?"

  "Say her name," Sam demanded.

  "Rebecca," Holden said.

  There was a long pause as the two stared at each other.

  "Maybe we should take a break," Robertson said. "It's getting late. We can resume this in the morning."

  "Why would we stay here?" Sam asked. "We're done as far as I'm concerned."

  "Where are you going to go?" Robertson asked. "There's a whole city looking for you. Orders are to shoot on sight."

  "We'll take our chances," Sam said.

  Sam rose from the table and Jordan followed suit, but Cole stepped in-between them and the door.

  "Miss Sam," Cole said, "what if I asked you to stay? Just tonight. And listen to the rest in the morning? You do that and if you still wanna leave, I'll help you get out of the city myself."

  "Cole, I—" Sam started.

  "I helped you get Jordan out," Cole interrupted. "All I'm askin' is you hear the man out."

  "That's not fair," Jordan said. "Rebecca died."

  "Ain't got time for fair," Cole said. "And everybody in this room is sad about that little girl. I can guarantee that. Wasn't no one's intention to get anybody hurt. That infected boy wasn't supposed to make it to the city. The soldiers at the gate shoulda seen him. Shoulda pulled the alarm a lot sooner."

  "It doesn't make it better," Sam said.

  "Naw," Cole said. "I reckon it doesn't. But neither will runnin' away from this. This thing is bigger than all of us."

  Sam gritted her teeth together. She wanted to run out of this place, but where would she go. How long did she have on the outside before they caught and executed her? If she stayed, she'd compromise everything she believed in, but if she left, she'd be putting Jordan at risk as well as herself.

  "I'll stay the night," Sam said. She turned back to Holden and Robertson. "You have two hours tomorrow morning to say whatever you have to say and then we're leaving."

  "Thank you," Holden said.

  "Don't thank me," she said. "Thank Cole."

  They excused themselves from the group, and Sam and Jordan followed Cole into the offices beyond the conference table. He stopped at a small office toward the end of the hallway and opened the door with one of the many keys on the massive key ring.

  "I know you two ain't married." Cole said. "But I don't suppose no one here is gonna mind you shacking up tonight. Unless, you two want separate rooms and that ain't no problem either."

  "One room is fine," Sam said.

  He pointed down the hall, back toward the conference room. "Washrooms still work. Tapped into one of the Ministry's water lines a few months ago when Tyler and his crew got recruited. Ain't got no soap or toothbrushies—"

  Sam snorted at the pronunciation of toothbrushes and Cole's face flushed. "I'm sorry Cole," she said. "I wasn't trying to hurt your feelings. Toothbrushies…it's cute." The red in Cole's cheeks deepened, but a smile widened across his face. No damage done.

  "I set a couple MREs on the table in your room," he continued. "Found a bunch of 'em at the hospital locked in one of the supply closets. Don't taste great, but they'll keep the meat on your bones. Laid the first-aid kit next to 'em."

  "What's an MRE?" Sam whispered to Jordan.

  "Meals Ready to Eat," Jordan whispered back.

  "Why do you think there was a bunch stored at the hospital?" Sam asked.

  "Don't rightly know, Miss Sam," Cole answered. "Got Holden all confused too."

  "How are they still edible?" Jordan asked. "There's no way they would've kept for 300 years."

  "They ain't that old," Cole answered. "These were made in Concordia. At least that's what it says on the packaging."

  "But it doesn't have a date?" Sam said.

  "No," Cole said.

  "Do you know what year it is?" Sam asked.

  Cole stroked his thick gray beard and shook his head. "Naw. Holden said it's been about 300 years since the fall. That would put us at 2332. Can't be entirely sure though."<
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  "About anything it seems," Sam said.

  "Or anyone," Jordan added.

  "I know you're mad at Holden," Cole said. "I would be too if I was in your position. But he's playin' for the right team. I can promise you that much. He'll tell you the rest tomorrow. You'll see."

  "I hope so," Sam said.

  "You will."

  Cole turned and walked down the hallway and disappeared out of sight. Jordan ran his hand through hair and shook his head. "What the hell is going on?"

  Sam shrugged.

  "How you holding up?" he asked. Gently, he pressed his thumb against the cut on her head. It stung, and she winced at the pain. He pulled his hand away from the cut and rested it against her cheek.

  "I don't know," Sam answered.

  It was the most honest answer she could give. The executions in the plaza seemed like a lifetime ago. Holden's revelation about their past coupled with everything else…was she dreaming? None of this could be real. Could it? She felt numb. Empty.

  "I'm glad you're here with me," she said.

  "Me too," he said.

  They took turns going to the washroom. The water drizzled down in freezing spurts, but she was grateful for every drop. She grimaced when she pulled back on the dirty coveralls and sweaty undergarments.

  They met back in their sleeping quarters and Sam took a seat on the floor against the far wall. Jordan brought over the first-aid kit Cole had left and one of the MREs. He squatted down beside her.

  "What do you make of all this?" he asked.

  He pressed an alcohol wipe to her wound and Sam cringed as the pain shot through her forehead.

  "Sorry," he said, recoiling his hand.

  "It's fine," she said through gritted teeth. "Just get it over with."

  He pressed the wipe to her forehead again. Her head throbbed, but the pain was duller than before.

  "I don't know what to make of it," Sam said. "Those things they said in the conference room, none of it seems real. How could they erase all of our memories? How does no one know about any of this?"

  Jordan removed a bandage from the tin box and opened it. "We only know what they want us to. We're their puppets."

  The words sent shivers down Sam's spine.

  "If there's a chip in our mind suppressing our old memories then maybe there's a way to disable it. We can be fixed."

  "We're not broken," Sam whispered.

  "You know what I mean."

  "I know."

  Jordan placed the bandage over the cut and then kissed the top of her forehead.

  "I'm sorry," Sam said.

  "Don't—"

  "It's all my fault."

  "No, it's not," Jordan said. He sat down beside her. "None of this is your fault. It's theirs." He pointed at the corner of the MRE where 'Concordia' was printed in big bold letters.

  Sam nodded but didn't speak. They sat in silence as Jordan opened the MRE. It consisted of a package of beef enchiladas, refried beans, crackers, cheese spread, and two cookies. They read the heating instructions, fumbled around with the packaging and then decided they weren't hungry after all. They split the two cookies and the package of crackers.

  Cole was right. They tasted horrible. The cookies were dry and the crackers stale. When they finished, Jordan retrieved two glasses of water from the washroom.

  "We should get some sleep," he said after they refilled their water glasses.

  "Sleep sounds good."

  There were no blankets or pillows or sheets. They stretched out on the hard wooden floor and Jordan wrapped an arm around her waist. He pulled her body close to his, her back to his chest. She rested her weary head onto his outstretched arm, and she asked him if it was okay.

  "Are you okay?" Sam asked.

  "Wouldn't have it any other way," he answered.

  "You can't be comfortable."

  "I've never been more comfortable."

  Sam felt the same way. They'd never been this close, yet their bodies locked together like they had been designed for that sole purpose. Sam turned so she could look at him.

  "Jordan?"

  "Yes?"

  "I love you."

  "I love you too."

  She kissed him deeply. His lips were warm and full. Why couldn't there have been a lifetime of these kisses?

  "Remember the flowers," Jordan said as he pulled away.

  "I will."

  A moment of silence passed and Sam felt herself slipping toward her dreams. Effigies of enflamed towers etched their way across the back of her mind. She forced herself to keep her eyes open. To not drift off before she had a chance to say what she needed to.

  "In case we don't wake up," Sam said, "I want you to know that I've loved you since the day I met you. And whether that was ten years ago, or twenty, or 300, that feeling's never changed. If I could do it all over again, I would let you—"

  Jordan interrupted her with a kiss. She melted into his arms and he pulled her closer. The kiss was sweet and rough and the best of her entire life. He pulled away and smiled and then they fell asleep in each other's arms.

  Sam didn't dream of the burning city. Moments after they dozed off, Cole Porter burst into the room. He was yelling, but it took Sam a moment for her brain to catch up to the current situation. The unfamiliar place. Cole's thick southern drawl. The shouting. Everything was foggy.

  "Gotta go now!"

  His words clicked and panic rushed through Sam's body.

  "Now!" he yelled.

  They scrambled to their feet. Sam's head throbbed again, worse than when she had nodded off. She touched a hand to her head and felt it was puffy and swollen.

  "What's going on?" Jordan asked.

  "We got word the Minister is sendin' the transport out early. After it leaves, they're lockin' down the city for good. 'Til they find her." He nodded toward Sam and her head throbbed harder as her pulse quickened.

  "What transport?" Sam asked.

  "The blood truck," Cole said. "They take the samples to Concordia every week. Leave in the middle of the night when everyone's asleep. They're sendin' off the latest samples and they ain't openin' the gates again until you two are dead. It's our only shot of getting' you two out of here alive."

  "What are we waiting for?" Jordan asked.

  "But…" Sam started but her voice trailed off. The news that Rebecca's death was the result of Holden's ill-thwarted plan was still fresh on her mind.

  "If we stay, they'll kill us," Jordan said. "At least this way we have a chance and I'm not ready to lose you."

  She hesitated for a moment longer and then said, "Okay."

  They followed Cole back to the conference room. She expected to find Holden and Robertson waiting for them but the room was empty. A small fire erupted in Sam's guts.

  "Where are they?" she asked. She didn't try to mask the panic in her voice. "Where are Holden and Robertson?"

  "They went on ahead," Cole said as he jerked open the door leading back to the train yard. "There's a whole mess of soldiers guarding the gates. They're getting in position. Didn't want to put you two in any more danger than necessary."

  The knot in her stomach clenched tighter as she stared into the pitch-black darkness beyond the doorway. This was it. No matter what happened, they had spent their last night in New Hope. By sunrise, they would be dead or traveling through the wastelands. She swallowed hard and plunged into the lightless hallway.

  Cole led them back outside and through the train yard. They sprinted to the main road and jogged away from town and toward the city gates. Sam said a silent goodbye to their old lives as they passed her apartment unit. The few belongings she owned would be destroyed. The life before the infection—real or not—was gone forever.

  They ran for a long time as they crossed through the city. The full moon hung low overhead and bathed their path in its soft light. In the distance, the huge steel gates came into view.

  Cole broke from the road and jogged to the concrete wall that extended around the city. The
y followed him and huddled together when they reached it.

  "We'll hug the walls the rest of the way," Cole whispered. "Gotta keep outta their sights." He pointed up to the top of the wall toward the gate. Through the darkness, Sam could see two men standing on top of it. Both carried long rifles.

  "Snipers," Jordan said.

  "Yeah," Cole said. "Robertson said they're aiming to kill on sight so stay close behind me. I move, you move. I stop, you stop. I tell you to run—"

  "We get it," Jordan said.

  "Good," Cole said. "Now let's move."

  Sam's shoulder scraped against the wall as they closed in on the gates. Cole walked in front of her doing the same. She focused on keeping her breaths steady and slow, but inside, her heart pounded against her chest and she wondered how no one else heard it.

  Cole held up a hand. They stopped and hunkered in the tall grass. The two massive steel doors were ahead of them. They reached far into the night sky. Sam wiped a sweaty hand on the leg of her coveralls and almost screamed when Jordan reached out and grabbed it.

  "Sorry," he whispered.

  She nodded. She was too afraid to say anything. Her knees shook under her weight. She wanted to cry. She wanted to go back to the train yard offices or even better, back in time before she had gotten them in this mess.

  Cole pointed at his eye and then to the guard shack sitting a few yards in front of the gates. They focused their attention on it and Sam's heart jumped into her chest. Robertson emerged from the shadows on the opposite side of the guard shack. She sprinted toward it and disappeared into its innards.

  Sam waited, unable to breathe. The light in the window illuminated and then extinguished. They looked to Cole who nodded.

  "This is it," Jordan whispered.

  Before Sam had time to answer, two headlights cut across the horizon. She heard the low rumble of the engine and then saw a box truck trundle down the main road. She couldn't believe it. It had been a decade since she had seen a car or truck in operation. Much longer if what Holden said was true. She stared at it in disbelief.

  "When it pulls to a stop," Cole said, "we go fast. You two head to the rear of the truck, Holden'll be waitin' in the back for ya. Me and Jeanette'll overtake the driver. We'll be outta here before they know what hit 'em."