by Tracey Ward
"About twenty minutes."
"Five minutes from being bitten to being taken down by The Fever. Another twenty for muscle failure." he surmises.
"And for reasoning to die out." I add. "He didn't want to go into the water at first. He knew he wouldn't make it to us."
Jordan nods in agreement. "It's good to know. If we see someone bit, we need to get the hell away from them and fast."
“Or finish them off before they change.”
“Or that, yeah.”
"You never saw it happen? Yesterday when the apartments were overrun, you didn’t see anyone change?"
It had to have happened fast and probably started almost immediately after I left. I’m lucky I was on the other side of town and made my way back on the MAX. I rode right through the wave of disease rolling out from campus and never felt it.
He hesitates and starts rowing almost lazily. “There was a girl on the couch downstairs when I got home. She had blood all over her arm and people were surrounding her, yelling to call 911. Someone said she was burning up and I ran to get ice from my room. When I got back out to the landing, there was a fight going on. I couldn’t see exactly who was attacking who but when I went to go back downstairs and help, I ran right into this guy. He looked like your roommate did; pale, dead eyed, covered in blood. He started snapping at me, grabbing for me so I ran from him. I barely made it to my room and when I closed the door he clawed at it for forever.”
“Did someone else eventually kill him?” I ask, thinking of what he said about zombies never giving up, never getting tired.
“Yeah.” he says, picking up the pace. “You.”
I can tell from his tone and the pace of his rowing that the conversation is over, that we’re leaving it behind, but something about the story doesn’t sit right. I’ve killed only two infected so far, the guy at the marina and Zombie Boy back at the apartments, and both of them were this morning. He’s talking about things that happened yesterday evening and his door was zombie free when I arrived home. A part of this story is missing, a big part, but I don’t press for it because I’m sure he has his reasons for the omission. Besides, I’m keeping secrets of my own so who am I to judge?
We start trading back and forth on the rowing as the morning presses into afternoon. I offered to take a turn several times during the early morning, but Jordan shook his head and rowed on. He obviously has something on his mind, something I’d bet anything is related to the missing piece of his story, and somehow the rowing seems to help him. He was sweaty and his arms were shaking by the time he let me take over and I wanted to say something to him but I kept quiet. We have to stop every time we switch, pulling over to the shore and trading places on land. On this last swap, we decided to stop at a park and eat a small lunch in the shade. Both of us are pink from the sun and I’m thinking we need to find sunscreen sooner rather than later.
“How’s your Milky Way?” he asks, crunching a Cheetoh, his fingers Oompa Loompa Orange from the coating. He’s not the kind that licks them clean after each chip and I admire the restraint. Boy has manners, even in the end of days.
“Phenomenal. How’re your chips treatin’ ya?”
He frowns. “Stale.”
“You should write the company, get a refund.”
He chuckles. “Dear Cheetoh Zombie Overlord,”
“I’m sorry, ‘overlord’?”
“He’s probably one of the wealthiest zombies on the planet. He’ll be an overlord by the weekend.”
“You are so weird.”
“You’re so rigid.”
“Hey!” I toss my wadded up candy wrapper at his face. “I am not rigid.”
“You packed wet naps.”
“Oh, I’m sorry that I don’t like being filthy.”
“The world is ending. We’re killing zombies. Dirty hands are acceptable.” he says, wiggling his grubby fingers at me.
“The world isn’t ending.” Quietly says the girl who just classified these as the “end of days”. It’s one thing to think it in my head, it’s entirely another to hear him say it.
We haven’t seen much of anyone, living or dead, not since the incident on the shore. That little tidbit we picked up, that they’re ambulatory for almost half an hour before they slow down, is still haunting us both. No wonder this spread so fast. We keep finding little pockets of the city that plainly show the chaos that took place last night. That’s still taking place today. Sirens wail in the distance in some areas but they aren’t emergency vehicles. They’re fire and burglar alarms. Stores and houses are being ransacked, some of them even burned. Throughout the day, plumes of smoke have started to appear across the sky line and I’m so grateful to Jordan that he brought me with him, that he didn’t let me stay in that apartment alone. The situation is worsening here and help does not appear to be on the way.
We’ve seen others on the river. A few, not many, and we don’t speak as we pass each other. Grim looks and heavy nods are all that pass between us, because really what is there to say?
“The world we knew,” Jordan counters. “That one is ending.”
I nod, admitting he’s right. “No more movies.”
“No more Michael Bay films. Pro.”
“We’re living a Michael Bay film. Con.”
“No more reality TV. Pro.”
“No more Kardashian tabloid covers. Big pro.”
“No more Kardashian sex tapes. Con.” he says sadly.
“Gross.” I reply judgingly. “You didn’t actually watch it, did you?”
Jordan shrugs and smirks at me. “I’m a man with internet access. What do you think?”
“Gross.” I repeat
“No more fast food.”
“This could be the last Milky Way I ever eat.”
“No more Twinkies.”
“They’re already gone, remember? Bankrupt.”
“Shit, that’s right. Wow. Pluto isn’t a planet anymore, Twinkies are extinct and zombies walk the earth.”
“If that doesn’t spell out apocalypse, I don’t know what does.”
Jordan chuckles and grabs a wet nap to wipe his fingers clean. My smile is wide and smug.
“You gonna call your uncle, check in with him?
“No. We’re not out of the woods yet.”
It’s a dark outlook to take but it’s the truth. We aren’t in the clear yet and I don’t want to tell my uncle I’m out of the city and safe just to die ten minutes later.
“Fair enough.”
I look at Jordan and his face looks so incredibly tired. I wonder if he got much sleep last night or if it’s exhaustion from his rowing session.
“Are you going to call your family?”
“Not yet.”
“No one else you want to talk to? To check in on?” I dig, and I don’t know why I’m doing it.
Jordan looks at me sideways. He looks at me like he knows exactly why I’m asking and the edges of his mouth twitch.
“Nope. It’s just you and I.” he says, and my stomach flips.
“For now.” I reply, my voice hollow.
He pauses. “Still thinking about taking off on your own, huh?”
I look at him and I feel kind of bad. He’s looking down at his hands, tearing the used wet nap into strips, and his face is blank.
“Yeah.” I say softly. “I won’t go until you’re somewhere safe, though.”
He laughs darkly and wads the strips of thin, wet cloth. “Don’t worry about me and don’t do me any favors.”
“Why are you so mad about this?”
“You can trust me, Alissa.” he mumbles.
I blink, taken aback by his seriousness. “And I do. I wouldn’t be here now if I didn’t.”
“Whatever, let’s go.” He stands abruptly and leans down to take his pack.
I reach out and grab his wrist, holding it tight until he looks me in the eye.
“Jordan.”
“I can keep you safe.” he says, his voice hard. Determined.
&
nbsp; “I know you can. You have. More than once.”
“Then stay. I’ll protect you.”
His eyes are boring into mine and there’s an intensity that stuns me. I don’t know what this is about, because it’s certainly not about me, but I do know that I want to stay with him more than anything. He’s so sure of himself, so self-possessed it’s almost inspiring. I feel steady and strong with him and when my meds are gone that’s exactly what I’ll need. Strength and fortitude. I want to have that, I would kill to have that. But at what cost to him?
“You can’t.” I whisper. “You can’t protect me. Not from this.”
His brows draw in tight. “You’re not talking about the infected, are you?”
“No.”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
“What aren’t you telling me?”
We stare at each other, neither of us ready or willing to give up our secrets, and I notice again how tired he looks. It’s not simply physical. He is mentally tapped and stretched too thin, which is probably why he’s so emotional right now. He’s taken care of me, saved me, and though I returned the favor back on the dock, I feel I still owe him.
“Jordan, let me take over rowing. You need to rest.”
He reaches out his hand, the one I’m not holding, and presses it to the side of my face softly. My breath hitches and I sit perfectly still as he leans over me, staring down at me. I know he’s not going to kiss me and the disappointment I feel is ridiculous. He rubs his thumb over my sunburned cheek and closes his eyes briefly.
“I let her…” his voice is hoarse and gruff as though he’s fighting for the ability to speak, his body trying to hold the words in. He swallows hard and opens his eyes again. “I let them—“
A branch crunches behind us where the trees line the path running through the park and along the river. We intentionally sat in the shade closest to the water, but when I hear feet trample through the brush, our small boat seems miles away. Jordan drops his hand away and we both lunge for our weapons. He steps in front of me with his bat raised as I reach back for an arrow, notch it and stand at the ready. There’s silence for a long time and I wonder if what we heard wasn’t an animal. I’m about to tell Jordan as much when someone comes sprinting out of the trees toward us.
Her skin is tan, her clothes bloody and her movements sure and fast. I have a split second to decide. A half a heartbeat to know if she’s chasing or being chased before she’ll be within striking distance of Jordan. I have one shot at this. One shot at saving my savior or murdering an innocent and I have no time to decide. The moment passes in a blink and I have to act. I have to choose.
God forgive me if I’m wrong.
Chapter Nine
The girl’s blond hair streams behind her, long and wild. I see Jordan’s bat flutter in the air, a hesitation rippling through him as she enters his strike zone. Whether she’s alive or dead or undead doesn’t matter now because she’s on him. She falls to her knees in front of Jordan and grabs her stomach then heaves its contents all over his pants and shoes. It looks normal, not black tar, but the blood rhythmically pumping from twin crescents on her shoulder are a dead give-away. She’s human now, Jordan and I weren’t wrong to hesitate, but she won’t be for long. The vomiting is a good sign The Fever is working its magic, and I wish Jordan would step away and put some distance between them. There’s little time between The Fever and the biting.
“You have to help me.” she pleads weakly, looking up at Jordan with watery eyes.
She would be beautiful if it weren’t for the vomit, blood and impending homicidal tendencies, and Jordan simply stares down at her. His back is to me and I can’t see his face, so I have no idea what he’s thinking. I sincerely hope he’s not thinking we try to save this girl because she’s obviously been bitten and there’s no coming back from that. Not that we know of, and even if there is an antidote, I doubt it’s in the form of Gatorade and Tylenol which is really all we have.
“Jordan.” I say cautiously, trying to stir him into action.
I scan the trees she came through with the sight on my bow, waiting to take down her attackers. They will follower her to finish her. I have no doubt about that. Unless she makes it through her fever before they devour her. Then they’ll just help her devour us instead. Either way, I want to get out of here NOW.
“Get the boat ready.” Jordan says calmly, not looking at me.
I quickly grab our packs, toss one on each shoulder, and start to walk back toward the boat slowly, never turning my back or taking my attention off the trees and the girl still at his feet. I’m nervous about what he’s doing, why he’s staying where he is, but I know that no matter what we need the boat in the water to make our escape, so I do as he says.
“She’s got an expiration date and it’s coming up fast.” I call out.
I shove the boat back into the water. I’m shin deep in the icy cold current and I think of the running zombie and how this was as far as he made it before backing off too. Smart guy; no way I’m going any deeper if I can help it. It’s February, and even though it’s a bright sunny day, that doesn’t mean the water is warmed up.
I see Jordan nod his head but he’s still watching the girl, never taking his eyes off her. She’s writhing on the ground now, clutching at him and groaning. He takes a small step back and she stops, her body tense like a tiger, and she growls at him. He freezes.
“You smell so good.” she moans, sniffing the air around his knees.
I call bullshit because he’s been rowing like a machine all morning and I know for a fact that he smells like sweat. And now vomit. I guess that’s not what she smells and I’m getting scared because at this moment I truly feel Jordan is standing beside a hungry wild animal. Even though he has probably seventy pounds on the girl, the look in her paling eyes says she can take him.
“Jordan. Tick tock.”
“Get in the boat and go.” he says firmly, never making a move. “I’ll catch up. Just go. Now.”
I don’t question it because, frankly, there’s no time. Any questions risk his life, so I toss in our packs, hop in the boat and turn to sit so I’m facing the shore, my bow at the ready.
“I’m in.” I say, just loud enough that I hope he hears me. “I have her sighted. Turn left and run.”
“Yours or mine?” he calls back.
The girl is rising to her knees.
“They’re the same left. Stage right.”
“What the hell is stage right?” His voice is rising and so is the girl. She’s almost to her feet and I can see movement in the trees in my peripheral.
Time’s up.
“Go, Jordan!” I cry, and pray he goes to the freakin’ left, otherwise I’ll end up shooting him in the chest instead of her.
He pivots left and runs like hell toward the water. I’ve started drifting a little bit and there’s a wind, but I’ve got it under control. As the girl lunges, I put some extra force behind the arrow and let it go. It sails through the air and hits a little more to the right than I wanted but it finds a home and stays there. It pierces her breastplate and I’m hoping it finds her heart, but I’m not choosy at the moment. I’m also hoping my assumption is right and her ability to still feel sensations, such as cold water and pain, will slow her down enough to get Jordan clear.
Luck is with us. I might not have hit her heart, but an arrow in your chest still hurts like a bastard and she goes down hard, screaming wildly. I’ve lost an arrow and that sucks, but as the swarm of fifteen or so zombies comes into the clearing and Jordan hits the water running, I’m thinking we made out alright. He has to swim a short ways to get to the boat and when he hoists himself inside he’s a sopping wet, trembling mess. I don’t know how much is from adrenaline and how much is from the cold but it all worries me.
“Are you okay?” I ask, reaching for him.
He nods quickly and brushes my hands away. “Get us out of here.”
“You got it.” I say briskly, and instead of using
the oars I pull hard on the string on the motor like it’s a lawnmower and it springs to life. I don’t know what we were saving her for but I think now is a good time to use the horsepower and put some distance between us and the park. Jordan doesn’t say anything against it.
“That was close!” he shouts over the sound of the engine and the wind rushing up the river right into us.
“Too close!” I shout back. “What were you doing standing still like that!? Did you freeze up?!”
He shakes his head. “You couldn’t feel it?!”
I scowl. “Feel what?!”
“Her! I don’t know what to call it other than survival instinct, but when she puked on me, everything in me said to keep still. No sudden movements!”
I nod in understanding. “I had the thought that she looked like a tiger ready to pounce. Then she freakin’ sniffed you!”
“I know!” he cries, and we know we’re not yelling out of necessity now. He has a small smile on his face and I can feel one on mine too. It seems an odd time to be grinning like idiots, but it’s the thrill of surviving. It makes you giddy.
We cruise upriver for a while making great time compared to rowing, but eventually Jordan makes the cut it sign across his neck and I kill the engine.
“Let’s save what gas we’ve got in there. The tank isn’t very big.”
I think it’s worth burning it and finding more when we need it, but I don’t argue the point. The boat coasts forward for a short distance on residual momentum and then we’re at the current’s mercy again. I turn to start rowing but Jordan stops me.
“I’m frozen solid. It’ll help me warm up.”
“About that. We need to get you into dry clothes. And get sunscreen. And chapstick and a toothbrush and more water.”
He’s grinning at me as I make our shopping list and I stop.
“No,” he says brightly. “Keep going.”
“It’s time to loot.” I reply seriously.
He sighs and rubs a hand over his face slowly. “I really didn’t want to do it so soon. Looters are nuts. They will shoot us over your toothbrush.”