by Bobby Adair
The elevator stopped. I drew a sharp breath and braced myself.
The doors slid silently apart.
The girl lunged for the button and pressed it over and over.
People stood in the hall—men dressed in khakis. They didn’t move. Their eyes showed their fright.
They didn’t look infected.
They held what looked like wooden training rifles by the barrels over their heads, ready to swing.
Nobody moved. None of us knew what to do. We all had clearly expected something different when the doors opened.
The elevator dinged again and the doors started to close.
“Hey,” one of the guys said.
I pulled the pistol back by my chest, stuffed the extra magazine into my pocket, then put my hand out to stop the elevator doors. “Hey,” I replied, flatly.
“Hey,” another one said.
“Say something else,” I commanded. “I need to know you’re not infected.”
“We’re not infected,” the guy directly in front of me said. “You look like you are.”
All the guys tensed. Their toy rifles inched menacingly higher.
“Back off, fucktards,” I told them. “My gun is real.”
“He’s fine,” the girl told them. “He saved me from…from them.”
From the hall to the left of the elevator a hand reached around and grabbed my wrist.
A big guy next to the talker lurched toward me, raising his wooden rifle to strike.
I fired a deafening round into the wall beside the big guy. Everybody froze.
“If you don’t get your hand off my wrist,” I shouted, “I’m going to shoot your fucking arm off.”
The hand released and disappeared around the corner.
“What’s wrong with you?” I asked harshly.
The talker said, “You’re infected.”
“I’m not,” I answered.
“When were you bitten?”
“It doesn’t matter. I’m immune.”
“Nobody is immune,” the talker argued. “Your skin is pale. You’re bleeding from a bite. You’re just not done changing yet.”
With frustration dripping from my tone, I said, “There’s an epidemiologist from the CDC in the building next door. He can tell you whatever you need to know. But in the meantime, you need to believe that I’m immune because I have a gun to prove it.”
“What does the gun prove?” the talker asked.
“It proves I can shoot anybody else who lays a hand on me or tries to hit me with one of those dumbass toy rifles.”
“So you’re the guy from the building next door who was out picking up the guns this morning?”
“Yes,” I answered.
“Why didn’t the infected attack you?”
I looked down at my bleeding arm. “I told you, I’m immune. They think I’m one of them, most of the time.”
The girl chimed in, “Please, you guys. Can’t any of you see what’s going on outside? The infected are everywhere, killing everyone. Why are we at each other’s throats?”
“We have to be sure,” the talker answered. “We have to keep the infected out of the building or we’re not going to get through this.”
I said, “Well your basement is full of them. They chased us up the tunnel.”
“The building is secure,” the talker said.
“Thanks for forgetting the elevator,” I told him.
“That’s the only other way out of the basement.”
“If the building’s not secure, we’ll know soon enough.” I glanced quickly between the guys in the hall, looking for any sign that one of them was going to try something again. “Listen, I don’t want to stand in this elevator all day. If you guys will back off, I’ll be happy to go and wait by a door until the infected calm down outside and I can leave.”
The talker told his four companions to lower their wooden rifles. “My name is Mark. I’m second in command here.”
“Second in command?” I asked. He appeared to be in charge.
“We’re ROTC.”
“Oh?”
Mark said, “Maybe we can help each other out.”
“Now you want to be friends?” I asked.
“Why don’t you come see our CO, and we’ll talk about it?”
I was apprehensive. Moments before, they were raring to bash my head in with their wooden guns.
Mark said, “You two can come out of the elevator. We won’t hurt you. The building is safe.”
I looked at the girl. She seemed willing. I lowered the gun, but didn’t put it away. We stepped out of the elevator, but being surrounded by uniformed men—who just moments before were hostile—made me very nervous.
Mark looked at the big guy beside him. “Tom, would you secure the elevator?”
Tom stepped into the elevator.
“How many of you are there?” I asked.
“Us five and our CO,” Mark answered. “I’ll take you to meet him.”
Chapter 22
The CO was a retired military man with thinning hair, an expanding waistline, puffy cheeks, and a permanent scowl. We met him in a large storage room on the second floor that had long windows overlooking the plaza and the gym.
Mark saluted the CO when we came into the room. The CO returned his salute. Mark said, “Major Wilkins, these two entered the building through the utility tunnels and came up through the elevator.”
Wilkins asked, “Is the elevator secure now?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good.” The major turned his attention to me, “And you are?”
“Zed Zane.” I didn’t extend my hand to shake since I still held the pistol.
The major looked to the girl.
“Felicity Bingham,” she said. “I have friends in a dorm and…and we need help.”
Felicity was on the emotional edge. I expected her to burst into tears at any moment, but gave her kudos for keeping it together during our escape.
“We’ll get to that,” Wilkins said. He turned to me. “I saw what you did for Felicity out there, Mr. Zane. That was brave.”
Not comfortable taking the compliment, I shrugged.
Wilkins said, “You can holster your weapon. You’re safe in here.”
I shook my head. “Thanks for letting us in, I guess, but I think I’ll just hold it for now.”
“Why?” Wilkins asked, pointedly.
I gestured to the windows. “You’ve seen the infected. There are a lot of them.”
“They’re not in here,” Wilkins countered.
“Not yet,” I argued.
“You’re in no danger here,” Wilkins said.
“Your guys nearly attacked me coming out of the elevator.”
“When was the last time you looked in a mirror?” he asked. “You look like one of the infected.”
I looked down at myself. My skin had grown paler since I last checked. My arm was bleeding from another bite wound. I had blood and brain splattered on my shirt from when I shot the infected girl in the tunnel.
I looked back at Wilkins and shrugged. “I clean up nicely.”
Wilkins ignored that. “Let’s get right to it then. Are you infected?”
Yes, was the visible truth of it, but I had no desire to back away from my more complex version of the truth. “I’m immune.”
“Immune?” Wilkins said it slowly as though he’d just busted me stealing cookies from the jar on the counter.
“Immune,” I confirmed.
“When did you get bit?” he asked.
“About ten minutes ago in the tunnel.” True but certainly not the other true answer he was looking for.
“The utility tunnel?”
“Yeah.”
Wilkins looked hard at my forearm. “What about the other bite?”
“On Sunday,” I admitted.
“This past Sunday?” he asked.
“Yep.”
“You were bitten four days ago?”
I nodded.
“I’m assuming you’r
e not naturally an albino.”
“Where are you going with this?” I asked. “You can see I’m not albino. I have color in my skin, just not the normal amount. You can see I have a normal hair color.”
“But you got infected and you turned this way.”
“What do you mean, turned?”
“Turned into one of them,” Wilkins said.
“I think I’m still me.”
“You don’t seem crazed like the other infected,” Wilkins conceded.
I huffed. “I told you I’m immune.”
“Maybe you just haven’t finished turning yet,” Wilkins speculated. “There doesn’t seem to be any standard time for the infection to take over.”
“Look,” I said, coming to the end of my patience with the conversation, “there’s a guy from the CDC who’s holed up with me in the building next door. He says I won’t turn. He says I’m a slow burn.”
“A slow burn?” Wilkins asked. “What’s that?”
“Something about body temperature or something. Look, I’m fine.” I looked down at my ashen skin. “I’m just a little different now.”
“And the other infected, they won’t bother you.”
“I went over this with Mark,” I told him.
Wilkins stared me down.
I held up my arm. “They don’t like my flavor but they’re not very bright. They make mistakes.”
“So that’s why you were able to go out and strip the guns off of those dead soldiers?”
“Hey, that wasn’t you guys who shot at me last night, was it?” Anger rose in my voice.
Wilkins shook his head and patted his sidearm. “This is the only firearm we have. I’m not going to waste my ammo on a scavenger.”
“Yeah, well fuck you too,” I told him. “You can call me a scavenger or whatever, but you see what it’s like out there. We needed guns and I risked my life to get them.”
“I thought the infected didn’t like your flavor.”
“Wilkins, if you’ve been looking out the window, then you see what happens every time I go out there. I damn near get killed.”
Wilkins paused before altering course, “How many guns did you pick up altogether?”
“I’m not sure.” I wasn’t ready to give that information away.
Wilkins pushed on, “How many of you are over there?”
“What are you getting at?”
Wilkins took a deep breath, stood, and walked over to the window. “You’ve seen the news. You know what’s going on.”
I shook my head. “No, I haven’t seen the news. I don’t know shit. I know less than shit. All I know is that my stepdad went nuts, killed my mom, and bit me in the arm. I passed out for two days with a fever, and got arrested by some stupid police who thought I killed everybody. I got out of the jail during the riot…”
“The jail riot?” Wilkins interrupted. “You were in that?”
I brushed past Wilkins’ question and said, “So my friend and I made our way to the hospital, and instead of treating us, the Army tossed us over there in the gym with all of the infected. And now, the infected are running around everywhere killing everybody. Oh, and the CDC guy says it’s some incurable disease out of Somalia. There, that’s it. That’s all I know. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on?”
Wilkins nodded, “You’re lucky to be alive.”
“Ya think?” Sarcasm; my favorite hobby.
Wilkins softened, “Are you guys thirsty, hungry?”
The change in direction threw me off. I nodded.
Felicity said, “Yes, both.”
Wilkins turned to the cadet who’d come in with us and Mark. “Dawkins, get some sodas and some chips or something.”
“Vending machine food?” I asked.
“The same thing you have next door, I guess,” said Wilkins.
“Yep.”
Wilkins walked over to a chair that gave him a view out the window. “Why don’t you two pull up a chair? I’ll fill you in. Felicity, I’m assuming you’re not with him. At least you weren’t until you came running across the street.”
Felicity shook her head as she sat down. “No, I’m with some girls in Blanton Hall. There were four of us.”
“Blanton?” Wilkins asked, “That dorm is on the other side of campus. How’d you get over here?”
“My friend Margaret and I went downstairs to raid a vending machine for some food and…”
“And?” Wilkins asked.
“We thought we were being quiet,” she said. “We didn’t know anyone else was down on the first floor.”
“The infected were there?” Wilkins asked.
Felicity nodded. “A bunch were right there in the building, on the first floor, and we didn’t even know it.”
“So you ran?” he asked.
“I couldn’t get back to the room,” Felicity said admitted, her eyes drifting into a stare. “They caught Margaret but I just kept running. I didn’t go back to help her.”
“You couldn’t have helped her,” Wilkins told her. “If you’d gone back, you’d be dead too.”
Felicity nodded. “I just ran and ran. I couldn’t get away until Zed started shooting them.”
“And your other friends, are they still in Blanton?” Wilkins asked.
“I guess.” She nodded. “They were there when I left.”
Wilkins asked, “Do you guys have an internet connection and cable TV? Is everything still operating?”
Felicity nodded.
“So you know what’s going on?” Wilkins asked.
Felicity nodded again.
Wilkins leaned forward and put a comforting hand on Felicity’s knee. Suddenly, he seemed more like a father than a retired major with a stick up his ass. “Felicity, I don’t know if we can help your friends right now, but I’m sure they’re being smart and sitting tight in their dorm room, just like we’re sitting tight here. Why don’t you go with Mark? He’s got a connection on his laptop. Why don’t you see if you can contact them and let them know you’re all right and then we’ll see what we can do?”
Felicity said, “I have my cell phone.”
Wilkins said, “But you probably don’t have a charger with you.”
Felicity shook her head.
“I have the same problem with mine,” he told her. “Why don’t you conserve your battery and try the laptop.” He looked over at Mark. “He has it plugged.”
Felicity nodded and stood to leave the room with Mark.
Dawkins returned with cold sodas and packaged cupcakes. He handed me one of each.
“Thanks,” I told him.
Dawkins went over to stand by the door.
Without making a show of it, I slipped my pistol into its holster. I asked, “So what’s the story? What’s happening?”
Wilkins got a distant look on his face. “The infection came out of Africa about six weeks ago. Nobody really knew what it was at the time. But wait, let me preface what I know with this—we’re getting all of our information off of the cable news channels and the internet, so take everything with a grain of salt. Half of what we know is probably speculation.”
“I hear you,” I said. “Some things never change.”
Wilkins smiled and nodded. “The disease came up out of Africa. Nobody knew what it was at first. By the time that we started getting brief mentions on the news over here, there were already tens of thousands of infected in Africa, but your CDC man probably told you that.”
“He knew quite a bit about Africa, but we don’t know much of anything about how things are now.”
“So you didn’t hear about China or Europe?”
“Major, let’s just pretend I don’t know anything and go from there.”
Wilkins nodded. “China has been establishing a big presence in Africa for the past five or ten years, so they had a lot of people there. Once things got out of hand in Africa, China pulled their people. Some other countries did as well. Americans trickled out slowly because there isn’t any central authorit
y with the power to make them all leave, but the smart ones got out. Or at least it was smart for them, but bad for the rest of us.
“China, with a sudden influx of people from Africa, suddenly had thousands of the infected on their hands. So while our news outlets were foaming at the mouth with stories about minor outbreaks in Europe, this thing was already running amok in Asia. Things got out of hand real fast.”
“Out of hand?” I asked.
“Nobody has heard a word out of China since last weekend, about the time the infection broke out here.”
“How long did all of that take in China?”
“They pulled their people from Africa about four weeks ago. Two weeks later, the internet lit up with videos and pictures of the infected. The rest of the Far East followed suit. That was two weeks ago. Now China is a black hole.”
“A black hole?” I asked.
“No television. No reporters. Very little internet traffic. It just died out. Other governments lost contact with their government.”
I shook my head. “Is that what’s happening here?”
Wilkins nodded. “Here in Austin last weekend, Dallas and San Antonio by Monday. It started in Houston on Tuesday. Some east coast cities, and now it’s all over the country.”
I asked, “But we’re a modern country. Most of China is third world. Surely we have the infrastructure in place to handle something like this?”
“I don’t know,” said Wilkins. “I’d like to think that we’re more capable, but from what I’ve seen on the news, it looks like things are going to get very, very ugly.”
“End of the world?” I asked, expecting him to disabuse me of the notion.
Wilkins nodded.
Crap.
Chapter 23
Wilkins asked, “The people you’re with, how do they feel about you being infected?”
Taking a glance in the direction of the dorm, I said, “They don’t care.”
“You must have some very understanding friends.”
“I don’t know them that well,” I said as I tried to figure out if whether to take his statement at face value. “I just met them.”
“Really?” Wilkins paused. “In the gym?”
I nodded. “Sure.”
“They were infected too?” He asked.
I nodded again.
“Were there a lot like you in the gym? Immune?”