Deadworld

by John Macallen Davis

  It was a damn good set of questions. Carlos had been too tired to play it out in his head, but Brooke was right. There should have been plenty more bodies, dead or alive.

  “Drake's badge and key card are on the fourth floor,” Brooke said. “And then I was able to find this.”

  She handed a sheet of paper over to the men.

  “What's this?” A.K. asked.

  “A directory,” she replied. “And sure enough, Dr. Drake Mcentire is listed on there. The fourth floor, just like the key card says. That's eleven floors below us.”

  “Doesn't make him a criminal.”

  “No,” she went on.” But according to his date of birth, Drake is sixty-four.”

  “Sixty-four?” A.K. asked. Looking at the sheet a bit harder.

  “He can't be a day over thirty-five.” Carlos said.

  “Nothing about these people add up,” Brooke said. “When I first arrived, I pleaded with them to try and call out. Back when the power grid was still up and running. The cell phones were down and Beth didn't know how to use the landline.”

  “She's a receptionist.” A.K. said. Stumbling into the truth.

  “No,” Carlos beat him to it. “These people are all lying.”

  “They handed me this badge when you two showed up on the camera. They told me to play the part and I didn't mean to lie. The truth is I'm afraid.”

  “We need to know anything else you've seen,” Carlos began. “Is Gordon the only guy who leaves this wing? Have they talked about any-”

  He was interrupted by a knock at the door. A much louder knock.

  “Fucking Grand Central Station.” A.K. said.

  Drake didn't wait for an official OK. He walked in on his own accord to find Carlos and Brooke playing cards on his bed. A good con always has cards close by. Especially when scheming.

  “Everything OK in here?” Drake asked.

  His eyes scanned the room for anything out of the ordinary but saw nothing. Putting his suspicions to rest.

  “Yep,” A.K. said with a slight grin. “Carlos here is whipping her in cards. He's going through so fast you can barely keep up with the dealing.”

  Carlos shot a look. This was no time for inside jokes.

  Drake nodded. “Dinner's in ten minutes. Apple slices and potato chips.”

  “Just like mom used to make.” A.K. grinned.

  “Yes,” Drake said. “Very well. Candice, would you mind helping us get everything in order out here?”

  She looked at him with a smile that was faker than Hollywood titties. Glancing to Carlos momentarily.

  If only we could play cards for real. Perhaps strip poker. Carlos thought. Understanding that very moment, her poker face was shittier than a day old diaper.

  “Sure.” she grinned.

  It was as if a light switch had gone off. She was acting as though nothing was upsetting her in the least.

  “Wanna finish her hand?” Carlos asked.

  “Sure.” A.K. replied.

  Waiting for the door to click shut, both men sat there like professional card hustlers. Playing their parts well.

  “What the fuck was that?” A.K. whispered.

  “I'm not sure, but she's scared out of her mind,” Carlos replied. “Which tells me that these are anything but good people.”

  “Should we kill 'em before or after we eat the potato chips?”

  Carlos looked at him with sad eyes.

  Always with the jokes.

  “So what do we do now?” A.K. asked.

  It was a damn good question, considering.

  “Play it cool,” Carlos said. “Just try to act the same way you did before we found out they're lying...and keep a gun close. A knife, too, and hide it from 'em. When you're locked up twenty-three hours a day, you learn about picking your battles.”

  Sucking in a deep breath, A.K. opened to door. Quickly finding plenty of eyes on him. But he tried to seem normal.

  “We appreciate the food.” he said.

  Drake, or whoever in the fuck he actually was, nodded. The two men eventually found themselves sitting near the nurse's station, which had become a community meeting spot of sorts. It was the one place where everyone came together and shared their thoughts.

  “So out there-” the “receptionist” asked. Cut off quickly.

  “It's bad,” Carlos replied. Munching on the snacks while looking into her direction. “I've got friends out there, we both do. But honestly, I don't even know if they're still alive. We got separated. You guys have it lucky up here. At least there are very few infected to contend with. And this floor seems pretty well sealed off.”

  “How long have you been a doctor?” A.K. asked suddenly.

  Carlos shot him a stare. This was not playing it cool. Asking too many questions in jail could get you killed and that same philosophy might just apply here. Either way, Carlos could see that the doctor wannabe grew fidgety.

  “Six years.”

  “Mind if I asked where you studied medicine?”

  Carlos felt like reaching over and slapping the taste out of his friend's mouth. Instead, he watched the conversation take place while slowly easing a hand down near his pistol. Just in case.

  The man in charge seemed bewildered for a moment. He'd obviously not thought his cover story through well enough.

  “The University of Tennessee.”

  “No shit,” A.K. said with a grin. “My sister went to UT. Who was your professor?”

  Drake shot Gordon a look.

  “All of these questions...”

  Suddenly, the big man hoisted a pistol into the direction of both men. Much faster than Carlos had anticipated. He'd been caught in the middle of pulling his own pistol.

  “My thoughts exactly,” Carlos said, giving his friend a stone-cold look.

  “We were going to go about this the right way,” Drake said. Completely frustrated. “I wanted to do this the right way. But you and your damn questions.”

  “Just don't like being lied to, that's all,” A.K. said.

  “No, I'm not a doctor. The truth is when all of this shit broke out I was here to visit a cousin of mine down on the second floor. I heard explosions and it didn't take much staring out the window to figure out what the hell was going on. At that point, it was either run outside and maybe make it to my car or get my ass up as many steps as I could and wait it out. And that's exactly what I did.”

  “That's what we all did,” Jimmy said. Sitting in a shitty security outfit. Even his badge was pinned slightly crooked.

  “We all got up here at about the same time. The whole damn hospital was in chaos. We didn't hear many gunshots inside, but outside they were ringing off everywhere. People were screaming and dying... The real doctors and nurses ushered us in and soon after, we began doing what we could in locking this floor down.”

  “So why lie?” Carlos said. “There's no shame in what you did. Hell, we all would have done the same.”

  “We sat here for a couple of days and during that time, I started wondering about the long game. I realized, this isn't going to be a sprint it's going to be a damn marathon. These things aren't going away anytime soon. What are we going to do when the food and water run out? It's not going to last forever, right? We had nearly thirty people on this floor and only enough food for a week – max.”

  “Thirty people?” A.K. asked.

  “Most of 'em are dead,” Drake said. “I'm sure you figured that much out. See me, Jimmy and Beth got together and started using our heads. We overpowered the real security guard, took his gun and gave everyone else a choice. Get the fuck out or fight to stay.”

  “Fight to stay?” Carlos asked. “This was their floor.”

  “What about that Hummer out there?” he fired back. “Is that yours? Don't try to fucking lecture me on what's fair. In case you haven't figured it out, we're living in a different time now. A couple of them got through the parking lot and into the woods...most of them died on the way out. So no, I didn't kill them but I w
ould have.”

  “What about these two?” A.K. asked.

  “You are full of questions,” Drake grinned. “Gordon and Brooke here, they arrived in a group of four. Don't worry, we tend to think ahead. It's about the long game, remember? We made them all a deal that they couldn't refuse. Two of them were gonna die and the other two could stay put. The only stipulation is that they killed one another.”

  “What?” A.K. asked.

  “It's simple, really,” Drake continued. “In this fucked up world the way things are now, only the strong will survive. Only the strong deserve to survive. Gordon here went into a room with two of his friends and came out by himself. In turn, he'd also bought Brooke's freedom.”

  Gordon looked to the floor with shame for a moment.

  “I did what I had to do,” he finally admitted. “The guys I traveled with would have killed her. I couldn't let that happen.”

  “Well,” Drake began. “We can try to justify it all day but it doesn't matter. The strong are still here and the weak are right where they should be.”

  “This is your floor. We'll gladly leave you to it.” A.K. began.

  “Oh no,” Drake grinned. “You don't come in here, eat our food and start putting me on trial with your questions and expect to just walk out. You and your friend here are going into that room,” Drake pointed. “And only one of you is coming out. Whoever comes out alive has earned the right to stay here or go, or do whatever in the fuck they want to do. No questions asked.”

  “That's not going to happen.” Carlos insisted.

  “Oh, it'll happen,” Drake said. “Either you both head into that room and get to fighting for your lives or I'll shoot you both here and now.”

  Over the years, Carlos had learned a lot about the criminal element. He'd come across his fair share of the criminally insane, too, which is where he put Drake. Everything about the man's intentional stare told him that he would indeed shoot them both.

  A.K. was the first to stand. Beginning to head for the door.

  “That's my man,” Drake smiled. “My money was on you to start with.”

  “A.K,” Carlos said with a stern voice.

  There was no coming back from this.

  “He's gonna kill us if we don't,” A.K. replied. “At least this way I have a chance. It's nothing personal.”

  Carlos stood to his feet, more confused than anything. He slowly followed the man he'd considered a friend into the small hospital room. Gordon would shut the door behind them and stand watch with his pistol in hand.

  -

  “Can we stop for a few minutes?” Lamar asked.

  I honestly didn't care one way or the other. Looking down at my hands, there were too many speckles of blood to count. I would have worried about washing it off not so long ago. Now, my only concern was protecting Pam.

  “Is that OK?” she asked me.

  “I'm fine with it.”

  I noticed Lamar's facial expression. I was good when it came to things like that. There was a question in his eyes. Why was she bringing everything up to me as though I had the final vote? That kind of shit. It was written all over him. They both sat on a nearby flat rock and Lamar drank water while Pam pushed her palms against her aching feet in hopes of relieving a bit of the pain.

  The truth was, we'd walked so much over the past day that none of us knew where in the hell we were exactly. Near Charlotte, somewhere, and trying to make our way from it. But the further we walked, the more it looked the same. Tall trees that were beginning to lose their leaves. The moist soil beneath our feet, covered in fallen leaves that were multi-colored with the breath of fall. Tall grass. It was nothing but countryside.

  I had been paying so much attention to the surroundings that I missed Pam approach me. As she brushed my shoulder, I nearly screamed out in panic.

  “Are you OK?” she asked.

  Was I supposed to tell her that she'd startled me to the point that sweat had begun to bead on my scalp?

  “Yeah,” I replied.

  “Derick, I'm worried about you,” she admitted. “You haven't been yourself.”

  I relaxed as much as I could. In that moment, I realized just how tense I had become. But I had always dealt with it in the same way. I hid the pain beneath layers inside of me and rather than dealing with it, I forgot. This was the first time in my life where hiding it away was no longer an option.

  I began to cry.

  Pam grabbed me into her arms and it felt good. It truly did. For the past few days, I had been jumping out of one adrenaline rush and straight into another. There had been no time for me to sit down and deal with the world around us. Even back at the house, I'd tried my best to care for Lisa and help her.

  “It's OK to cry.” Pam said.

  That's when I realized that she was stronger than I was. She needed to speak for this group of ours, not me.

  “You know,” I began. “I remember back in high school, out on the football field. Hundreds of people would show up and cheer for us while we slammed pads out on the field but here I am, one the best strong safeties in North Carolina – crying on the shoulder of a cheerleader.”

  My comment drew a warm smile from Pam.

  “Ex-strong safety,” she reminded. “And I was cheerleading captain.”

  I grinned. Trying my hardest not to cry any further.

  “Things have happened,” Pam said. “You, Lisa, Rudy...you need to put all of that behind you now because I need you here.”

  “I'm not going to let anything happen to you.” I began.

  As I drew close to kiss Pam, she pulled away. It was all the answer I needed.

  “I can't be this right now,” she said. “I need to focus on surviving. So do you.”

  Her words stung into my heart like a thousand angry bees. The kind that have just had their home burned at the end of an open flame and a can of hairspray. At least that's how we handled them as teenagers in North Carolina.

  “I hope you understand.” she asked.

  She did what she could to let me down gently, but I didn't care. A part of me felt like a fool, while completely humiliated.

  “You keep talking like we're going to live forever,” I replied. “If only you could see the world through my eyes for a moment.”

  “Meaning?” Pam would have her answer.

  “We're all going to die,” I finally replied. “Deep down, we all know that getting killed by one of these things is inevitable. Each day that we somehow make it, we're only kicking the can down the road.”

  “Maybe...maybe not. You don't know that.” Pam said.

  She looked at me as though I were the textbook definition of pessimism. And maybe I was. But I was also a realist. In just over a week's time, we'd lost all of the people inside of that diner but three. The U.S. Army had gotten its ass kicked and the world's mightiest cities had fallen to their knees.

  “I'm not afraid to die, Pam,” I finally admitted. And I wasn't. “But it would help to have something to live for. I'd like to have something to fight for.”

  I expected some kind of response. Hell, anything. Instead, Pam simply nodded and walked back over to sit down. Just like our conversation had never taken place. I was going to make it a point to get my answers, too. Even if it meant walking over to finish the conversation in front of Lamar, who, in my opinion, was a fantastic guy. He'd also become the third wheel.

  But I didn't get a chance.

  “Up with your hands.” a voice said.

  It was a bit rasp, but human enough. Like you'd expect to hear out of a devout smoker.

  Moments later, a man emerged from the woods around us with a revolver in his hand. It wasn't your average gun. The barrel was long and the handle was elegant but very old.

  “I don't plan on shooting anyone, but I will if I have to.”

  “If you're going to rob us, you're about to be disappointed.” Pam said.

  We had nothing to steal. A few bottles of water and maybe a can or two of food. And I'm pretty sure
one of them was nothing more than hot dog chili.

  “Not here to rob you, either. I just want to make sure no one grabs a gun, that's all,” he said with truth. “I don't fancy getting shot today.”

  “Don't worry,” I said. “We don't have the ammunition to waste. What little we have is reserved for the infected only.”

  “That's why I'm so cautious.”

  I honestly did give two shits if he shot me at that point. I was tired of running. I was sick of hiding like some kind of damn injured animal on the run. But his comment sparked a great deal of interest on my part.

  “It's clear, Spook.”

  Seconds after, an infected walked into our resting spot and I could see a fear in the eyes of both Pam and Lamar. As for me, fuck it – I was ready to go.

  “Boo.” the infected said with a grin.

  OK, well I'll admit. I wasn't ready for that.

  “Name's Ben Willis. This here's my brother Stanley, but he prefers to go by the name Spook now. I'm sure you can figure out why.”

  The infected just stood there. He was nearly bald and only had trace amounts of horseshoe hair atop his head. He wore glasses, too. The cheap variety, that were normally designed for reading only. He honestly looked more pitiful than scary. I couldn't have imagined being in the guy's shoes prior to infection, the poor bastard.

  His brother Ben was on the other side of the spectrum. I estimated that he was in his late thirties. Ben had a full head of healthy brown hair and a smile that Pam immediately picked up on. He seemed like quite the charmer.

  “Just looking to do some trading, that's all.” Ben said.

  “Your brother's...infected?” Lamar asked.

  “Yes and no,” Ben replied. “Last I heard, this outbreak is some sort of flu. Old Spook here took the vaccination and I didn't. It's only blind luck that I'm immune to the virus, otherwise, I'd be out there somewhere chomping on something rather disgusting. From the looks of things, you folks are also immune.”

  “I'd kill for some water right now,” Spook said. “Well, not literally.”

  He smiled. It was a weird fucking sight to behold.

  “You've got to stop kidding like that.” Ben said with a chuckle.