Dead Meat: Day 8

by Nick Clausen

  She looks towards the house and the windows, but sees no one in there.

  Why hasn’t Dan called for me? Or has he? Did I just sleep right through it?

  No, that doesn’t seem likely. If Dan had signaled for her already, he would have seen her asleep behind the wheel, and he would have found some way of waking her up.

  Then she realizes that something else has changed. Something has gone silent. The van’s engine is no longer running.

  At first, Liv assumes she must have shut it off without remembering. But as she checks the key, she finds it still turned.

  What the hell?

  She tries to turn the engine back on, but it just clicks. The gas sign blinks up at her.

  “Oh, no … it ran out of gas …”

  Liv feels like kicking herself. How could this have happened? The tank had around one third left when they got here; she remembers checking it.

  How long was I out for?

  She checks her watch and lets out a gasp. It’s nearly three in the afternoon. She slept through most of the day.

  She looks back over at the house, and that same question pops into her head again: Why hasn’t Dan called for her yet? Is he okay in there? Did something bad happen?

  Then, as Liv watches, the board is removed from one of the windows. A face appears. It’s a woman. Very tall. She’s got fair, freckly skin and red, stringy hair. Her eyes fix on Liv.

  Liv feels her heartbeat kick into overdrive as she stares back at the woman, expecting her to do something, to send some sort of signal, to hold up a sign—anything!

  But the woman just stands there, her expression set in stone.

  Then, after several seconds, she looks down and begins to bring the board back up.

  “Hey, wait!” Liv exclaims, waving her arms as though the woman hasn’t seen her. “Hey! No, you can’t just … what the hell?”

  The woman disappears from sight as the board blocks the view into the house.

  Liv sits there, breathing fast.

  That was not a good sign. She didn’t look very friendly. And where was Dan?

  Scary thoughts begin spinning around her head. Thoughts of Dan being dead inside the house. Thoughts of the woman bringing the board back down, only to point a gun at Liv. Or even worse, of her simply leaving Liv to die of thirst in the van, surrounded by zombies.

  Calm down and think, she demands, forcing control over her mind before it can run wild completely. You still have options here. And you don’t know for certain what’s happened to Dan; he could still be alive.

  That last thought makes her look down at the bottom of the van. The well cover is right below her. Liv climbs over the seat to the back, lies down on hands and knees and places her mouth close to the floor.

  “Dan!” she calls out. “Dan, can you hear me? Are you still down there? Hello, Dan?”

  THIRTEEN

  William must have been nodding off, because he wakes up as something nudges his shin.

  He looks up to see the black soldier towering over him. The light coming in from the windows is a lot brighter now. The soldier is offering him a grey plastic bag.

  “What’s that?” William croaks, reaching up to take the bag.

  “Breakfast,” the soldier informs him, then moves on to pass out the next bag to the guy next to William.

  William feels his stomach roar by the mere sound of the word. He rips open the bag to find a loaf of bread, two strips of beef jerky, a can of something and a bottle of water. He begins chowing down, giving Ozzy one of the jerky strips.

  He looks around to see the other passengers also beginning to dig in, some looking hungrier than others, a few not even touching the food bags.

  “Where are we?” William asks the guy next to him.

  The guy just shrugs, opening the can of what appears to be beans.

  William gets up as the black soldier walks past him again on his way back to his own seat at the front. “Excuse me?”

  “That’s all you get for now,” the soldier tells him automatically. “Please sit back down.”

  “No, I wanted to ask you something. It’s very important.”

  The soldier stops, looks at him, but says nothing.

  “Uhm, I was wondering where we are? Like, right now?”

  The soldier doesn’t even glance towards the windows. “We just entered Danish airspace. We’ll reach our destination before evening.” He turns to walk away.

  “Wait, please! Can I ask you a favor? Could you drop me off?”

  The soldier raises one eyebrow. “Are you serious?”

  “I am. There’s something I need to do in Denmark. It’s very important.”

  “We’re not making any stops,” the soldier tells him. “Unless you spike a fever, you’re not leaving this vessel until we reach the camp in Tunisia.”

  “Please!” William says as the soldier is about to turn away again. “Let me just talk to you for two minutes, uhm …” He looks at the patch on the soldier’s chest. “Sergeant Everton. I promise you it’ll make sense.”

  “Listen, sir,” the soldier tells him, his tone changing to one of decreasing patience. “You’re not on a bus here. We didn’t bring you along as a favor. We’re operating under orders. We’re bringing you to Camp Future in Tunisia, and that’s it. Now, please sit down.”

  “Why not Finland?” William blurts out. “Why aren’t you bringing us to the camps in Finland?” As the sergeant is about to answer, William goes on: “I know they’re not full. My mom is going there. She said there’s still plenty of spots left.”

  That last one she didn’t actually say, but he can tell from the soldier’s face that it hits home. It’s only for a second that his stonelike expression changes, though, before returning to unreadable.

  “Our orders are to take you to safety,” he repeats slowly. “That’s why we’re bringing you to Tunisia.”

  “Safety from what?” William goes on. “Why isn’t Finland safe?”

  This time, the sergeant’s eyes flash away from William to briefly check the faces of the other passengers within earshot, before they return to rest on William. “I advise you to stop talking, sir. Otherwise, we might have to drop you off after all.”

  “That’s what I’m asking for,” William says, feeling his pulse rise. He puts his palms together and lowers his voice just enough that the soldier can still hear him. “Please, Sergeant, just listen to me. What I have to tell you is very important. I think I know why you’re taking us to Africa, but I’ll keep my theories to myself. If you would just give me two minutes of your time. Please!”

  The sergeant runs his tongue across his front teeth while his dark brown eyes bore into William’s. Then he nods once, turns and walks back to his seat.

  William bends down and tells Ozzy: “Stay.” Then he follows the sergeant, who’s standing by his seat, his thick arms folded across his chest.

  “All right,” he says. “You have exactly one hundred twenty seconds to explain to me why I should drop you off. Time starts now.”

  William glances at the other soldier, who’s also paying close attention. Then he takes a deep breath through his nose and begins talking.

  “This isn’t a virus. It’s not a medical thing at all. I’m sure you already know that. Sure, it has symptoms like fever and all that, but there’s no treatment, because there’s no illness. It’s something else entirely, something that affects the soul, or whatever you like to call that thing inside of us. It’s more like a curse than anything.” William pauses briefly to check the faces of the soldiers. They’re both set in stone. “I believe voodoo started this thing. My friend was there, at a location in Denmark, right at ground zero. He saw the first dead person coming back to life. And he has figured out what happened. He’s down there, right now, trying to find a way to reverse it. And he needs my help. When you picked me up, I was headed back here. We got separated earlier on, and—well, that doesn’t matter. All that matters is, I’m convinced this is our best shot at stopping this
thing—hell, it’s our only shot. So if you’ll please, please just drop me off, that’s all I’m asking for. It won’t put you at risk in any way, you can just hover above ground like you did when you picked me up. Please, that’s all I’m asking. Drop me off.”

  William takes a deep, trembling breath as he stops talking.

  The soldiers exchange one, long look before turning their faces back at him. The sergeant says: “Here’s the thing: If we drop you off here, you’ll be dead in forty-eight hours.”

  William shakes his head. “That’s okay, I know the risk. If you’ll let me have back my rifle, I can—”

  “No,” the sergeant interrupts him. “No, you don’t know the risk. Because I’m not talking about the infected getting to you. What I’m saying is, that in forty-eight hours exactly, there won’t be anyone left alive down there. In fact, that goes for most of mainland Europe.”

  William opens his mouth, then shuts it again.

  “That’s right,” the sergeant tells him, raising both eyebrows. “Since you’re being honest with me, son, I’ll be honest with you in return. What I believe you hinted at earlier is absolutely right. There’s a very good reason we’re taking these survivors away from Europe. Come Tuesday, there won’t be a Europe anymore.”

  William feels his gut drop. “Holy shit,” he breathes. “You’re going to … you’re going to …”

  “Don’t say it,” the sergeant tells him calmly. “I don’t want that word even uttered. You can think it if you like. But keep it to yourself.”

  William feels dizzy and needs to look down at his hands for a moment. So it’s true. What they have been saying on the media. The Americans are going to nuke the entire continent. After the initial shock has died down, the first clear thought that comes to him is about his mother.

  “My … my mom,” he mutters, looking back up at the sergeant. “She’s headed for the camp in Finland.”

  The soldier takes a breath through his nose. “I’m very sorry about that, son. I truly am.”

  William feels something wet against his hand. Ozzy is nudging him with his snout.

  “I have a German shepherd back home, you know,” the sergeant tells him, a hint of warmth in his voice. “Looks just like your boy there.”

  William clears his throat. “Look, if we … if we find a cure before the … before forty-eight hours have passed … would that change anything?”

  The sergeant sighs. “I don’t want you going down there, son. This is your last chance to get out alive. Don’t throw it away.”

  William bites his lip, glances towards the window. He can see the green open fields down there, under the perfect blue sky. He imagines that sky turning black and grey with smoke. He thinks of Dan being down there right now. And he recalls the promise he gave him.

  “I need to do it,” he says.

  “Excuse me?”

  William looks at the sergeant. “I need to do it. I made a promise. I can’t leave my friend to do this on his own. Please drop me off, Sergeant.”

  FOURTEEN

  Dan sits at the bottom of the stairs, breathing through his T-shirt. It helps to keep the smell of gasoline from making him dizzy.

  Dennis left the lights on down here—probably because he clean forgot—and Dan is thankful for it. Had he been left in complete darkness, it would have been a whole lot harder to keep from panicking.

  How long has it been since Dennis locked the door? Dan is losing his sense of time. He has no watch and his phone is dead. Had it still had any power, he would have tried calling Dennis to get him to talk.

  At first, Dan went back through the tunnel to the ladder. But even before he had climbed all the way up to the cover, he could hear the zombies up there, scratching away.

  He called for Liv, then listened for a reply, but none came. She probably moved the van again and had parked it the place they originally intended to.

  He called for her some more, hoping that she would hear him, but no reply came.

  So, since opening the well cover would mean certain death, Dan instead went back to the secret door at the top of the stairs and tried to pick the lock. That endeavor soon proved impossible, however. He had nothing but his fingernails, and they weren’t nearly long or pointy enough to get in the lock.

  He then began banging the door, calling for Dennis. But since the secret door was inside the cabinet in the hallway, at the far end of the house, there was a good chance Dennis would only hear him if he stood right outside the cabinet.

  When he received no sign of anyone hearing him, Dan had to fight a strong urge to begin throwing himself at the door. It was way too solidly built, though, and he probably couldn’t break it down anyway.

  Feeling an increasing sense of claustrophobia, Dan sat down at the bottom of the stairs and tried to think clearly. That’s when he noticed the gasoline fumes were starting to make him feel light-headed.

  He’s been sitting here ever since, going over the options in his mind. The hope that Liv will somehow figure out that he’s in trouble and take it upon herself to lure the zombies away, then come back and climb down into the tunnel begins to seem still less likely as the minutes wear on. The same goes with help coming from the other end: Dan felt certain Dennis would come to his senses and return to let him out, but so far, that hasn’t happened.

  He really meant it when he said I could stay down here and starve …

  How about Dennis’s mother? Does she know about him? Had she known, she would probably have come to kill him by now. Then, on the other hand, maybe she would have simply left him to starve to death.

  Whether she knew or not, the fact is that no one has been at the door since Dennis left. And if they simply decided to stay away, then what hope does Dan have of getting out of here?

  He suddenly feels like crying and needs to fight back the tears. The wave of emotions comes not only from frustration and fear, but just as much from the thought of letting down the people he has lost. His family. His friends. William. Not to mention the thousands of other people who have died.

  All of it will have been for nothing if Dan can’t find a way to get past this final step. If he can’t get into contact with Birgit and somehow convince her to go along with his idea.

  “I’m sorry,” Dan whispers to the empty tunnel. “I messed up.”

  He closes his eyes, a single, warm tear spilling over and running down his cheek. He doesn’t want to, but he can’t help but see the faces of his family once again. He can even hear them call his name. It sounds faint, far away, but still urgent.

  “Dan! … Dan! … Can you hear me? … Dan? … You still down there?”

  Dan opens his eyes.

  The faces dissipate, and so does the voice calling. But only for two heartbeats. Then it comes again: “Dan! … Can you hear me?”

  Dan jumps to his feet, almost tripping as he runs stumbling down the tunnel to the ladder and looks up at the well cover.

  He can still hear the zombies clawing away on the other side, but he can also hear the voice calling for him, stronger now: “Hello! … Dan?”

  “Liv?” he croaks, then clears his throat: “Liv! Is that you? I can hear you!”

  FIFTEEN

  “Dennis?”

  Mom’s voice calls him awake, and he sits bolt upright, staring around in alarm. He finds himself on the couch in Holger’s living room. A warm sunlight is making its way in through the boarded-up windows.

  “Why are you sleeping in here?”

  Dennis turns his head to look at Mom standing there, fully dressed, her hair neatly combed, her blue eyes resting on him. She’s holding a basket full of clean laundry.

  “I, uhm,” Dennis murmurs, wiping drool from the corner of his mouth. He was deep asleep just ten seconds ago, and his brain still hasn’t caught up. “I just … fell asleep, I guess.”

  “You should have come downstairs with me,” Mom says, putting the basket down on the coffee table. “It’s not safe sleeping up here.”

  “No, I k
now,” Dennis mutters, scratching his hair. He had this weird dream about someone trying to get inside the house, but he can’t quite remember it. “I meant to come down, I did, but—”

  Then it all comes back to him in a flash.

  He just sits there, open-mouthed for several seconds.

  Mom doesn’t notice at first. She’s looking at the gun on the table. “And what about this? You just leave that thing lying around?”

  Dennis is too shocked to reply.

  All he can think of is Dan being down in the tunnel. Mom obviously hasn’t been down there, or she would have known. And she must also not have noticed the van out in the courtyard—which is probably thanks to Dennis.

  After he slammed the door on Dan, he walked around the living room for ten minutes, thinking on how to deal with the situation. And he decided to try and keep it from Mom. But as soon as she woke up, she would check the cameras and see the van parked in the courtyard.

  So, Dennis snuck down to the bunker and turned the camera showing the van. It was surprisingly easy; Holger had made it so that all cameras could be adjusted from the computer by simply marking it and then using the arrow keys.

  Dennis spun the camera around less than half an inch, which was just enough for the van to not be seen, while at the same time, the camera still showed most of the courtyard. Mom probably wouldn’t even notice the angle had changed slightly.

  Then he had gone back up to the house, listening by the cabinet. Dan had stopped banging and shouting now. Dennis felt a little better. And he went back to the living room, feeling suddenly exhausted as he lay down on the couch.

  All of this flies through Dennis’s mind as he sits there.

  “Dennis?” Mom’s voice calls him back again. “What’s wrong?”

  Dennis makes an effort to close his mouth, swallows and blinks several times. “I, uhm … it’s just … I’m sorry, Mom. I meant to put it away, but …”

  “You need to be more careful,” Mom says earnestly. “You can’t just fall asleep with a gun next to you. If someone made their way in here, they could take it from you.”