by Fitch, E. M.
From the generator, Kaylee realized.
She skirted around the building, no longer able to see the dam, looking for the door. It was there, hanging slightly open, opposite the fence that surrounded the three buildings. She crept forward, aware that Cynthia or even Marsden could be waiting for her.
She heard them before she got there.
Her body seized and her hands convulsed. She should have kept the shovel. Small as it was, at least it was something. There were infected people inside the fence.
Their moans were low, and she couldn't hear them moving, no shuffling gait that she was so used to. There was something else though, something almost melodic, like wind chimes.
Kaylee pressed her back to the outer wall of the shed, her muscles taunt and ready to run. She edged closer to the door, peeking around the corner.
"Emma!"
Her sister was there, standing up against the wall opposite Kaylee, still in the jeans and tee shirt from the day before. There was tubing coming from her arm, a sick, purple bruise spreading from where she was stuck, a bag by her ankle filling slowly with blood.
"What happened?" Kaylee cried, relief spiking through her with such intensity that she almost didn't see the three other people chained to the wall. Two men and a woman, all four limbs chained and bolted to the reinforced wall behind them, and Emma at the end, on display, as though she were one of them. One of the infected men was missing a hand, his arm ending in a stump. A bar had been driven through, used to keep that arm in place when a handcuff obviously wouldn't. Kaylee's eyes dart to her sister's wrists, she could see the reddened skin from underneath an archaic manacle. Emma's head was lolling to the side, but her eyes focused when her sister moved into the room. Kaylee dart forward, skirting around a desk loaded with glass vials and microscopes. Her fingers reached for the tubing that was draining the life from her sister.
"Don't!" Emma rasped as Kaylee tugged. She pulled the tube free and a slow trickle of blood leaked from Emma's arm.
"Shut up," Kaylee said, ripping her long sleeved shirt over her head and bunching it to Emma's wound. Her sister murmured about infection but Kaylee shushed her, bending her elbow up to keep the shirt in place. "What happened to you?"
"Left a book in the yard," Emma mumbled. "I went to get it but someone grabbed me, knocked me out. I've been screaming all day. They said you left."
"Of course we didn't leave," Kaylee said, her eyes scanning Emma for further injury.
"They saw it, Kay," Emma whispered. "The bite. They know I'm just like them."
Them. She meant the infected straining at their chains, moaning and writhing as the bag that was collecting Emma's blood tipped and stained the concrete floor red.
"You're not," Kaylee hissed. She brought her eyes from her sister's body to her face. She had enough time to lock gazes, to see the widening of fear in Emma's pupils, before her skull split open and she collapsed, falling on the concrete and into darkness.
Chapter Nine
Her head was pounding. Dull, aching throbs that made her stomach roil with nausea. It forced memories of her fall through the factory floor weeks ago into her mind. Or maybe it was the fact that she was face down on concrete now that was reminding her of that night. When she breathed she could taste the dust, and the cold seeped into her skin almost painfully.
Someone else was there, there were footsteps. Shuffling footsteps and some heavier tread.
So two people then.
Her head felt foggy, her thoughts heavy and uncoordinated. But something was wrong. She knew that. And Emma was hurt, or being hurt. Emma needed help.
The memory, the sight of the blood bag draining from her sister forced her into alertness. Her sister was being bled dry. She needed to get up.
"The rest?" Kaylee heard the voice through the fog in her head, his tone ringing, like she was hearing it from down a long hall. It was Marsden, his wheezy voice more than memorable at this point. She could hear him clearly, even as the other sounds of the room came into focus.
"Out. And locked up. It's taken care of."
Cynthia, she's here too.
But there were others. Emma and the three others, all chained to the wall. Emma was silent, but the rest were moving, pulling and straining and the chains that secured them chinked and clanked as they fell and stretched with the restless arms that were reaching, always reaching. They were moaning too, nothing loud, the light in here was dim, but it was a low undercurrent in the room, a bass over which everything else played. Heavy footsteps sounded close to Kaylee again, she could smell the leather as the boots neared her head.
"You should put this one with them," Cynthia said.
"Leave her alone!" Emma yelled and Kaylee could hear chains rattle over Cynthia's laugh. She felt her chest collapse at the sound. Emma was still alive. And she was stronger than when Kaylee found her. They must not have taken any more blood. Kaylee felt a kick in her side and forced herself not to stir. It wasn't hard, her head was still swimming and the pain from her skull was overriding any other pain she could have been dealt.
"What happened to the others? Where's my dad? Where's Anna and Andrew?" Emma was angry, but she was desperate too and Kaylee could hear it easily in her tone. She heard the rattle of chains again and knew there was no way her sister was going to get out of that on her own.
"They won't be bothering us anymore," Marsden answered, as he spoke Kaylee could hear the clink of glass.
"Leave that alone!" Cynthia yelled, moving from Kaylee's side and towards where Marsden stood. Her head was clearing, not the pain, but she felt herself coming back to her senses. Her ears weren't ringing any longer and she let her eyelashes flutter open so her vision could focus. In the brief moment she allowed herself sight, all she could see was dirty concrete, spattered with blood stain, and a heavy, old desk behind which she lay.
"You told me they had left me," Emma cried. "You said you'd tell them that I ran. Let them go look for me, you don't have to hurt them!"
Marsden laughed. "And when they don't find you, what? They go on their merry way? It's too late for that anyway. She came looking. Obviously."
Yes, obviously, my body is proof, Kaylee thought, angry that she walked into this so easily.
"Who's watching the others?" Marsden asked. He sounded suspicious. Kaylee realized that although these two were obviously in this sadistic venture together, they still didn't trust each other.
"No one," Cynthia said. She was distracted now. Glass was clinking again and Kaylee heard the rapid turn of pages in a book.
"Do you even know-"
"I know what I'm doing!" Cynthia screeched, her fist thumping on the table. "Get out and leave me to it."
"I'll check the others, then come back for this one." Footsteps shuffled past Kaylee and towards the door. She could feel her heartbeat accelerating, a tightening in her chest as she realized this would be her only chance. Maybe Cynthia wasn't carrying a gun.
All she could hear was the rustle of papers over the moaning cadence of the infected. She opened her eyes slowly, not moving another muscle of her body.
Concrete and dirt and blood. The shiny wood of the table, Cynthia's dumpy legs and the chair on which she sat. She couldn't see Emma from here, she couldn't see the other infected people, the ones in chains just like her sister. But she could hear them, hear the rattled breaths, so unlike Emma's deep and even ones. They were restless in their movements, jerking at their restraints but with no real force. Their jaws would snap, the teeth clamping together with an awful clack, though there was no meal they could reach.
Kaylee didn't have long. She thought she could probably rush Cynthia, jump her and try to knock her out. She was smaller than the older woman, but undoubtedly in better shape. She thought she'd fare well in a fight. Unless Cynthia had her gun, but she was just going to have to hope she didn't. The biggest problem was where Kaylee lay. Any movement would be immediately obvious. The overhead lights were on and she was face down on the floor right by Cynthia's
feet. If she could somehow distract her, it would make everything so much easier.
"Why are you doing this?"
Emma's voice came soft and resigned and at the perfect time.
Cynthia turned, she didn't get out of her chair, but she turned enough towards Emma for Kaylee to slink back across the concrete, the noise of her movement covered by the groaning of the three infected men.
"I know you were bitten, don't act like I'm stupid," Cynthia sneered. "I am not stupid."
"I didn't mean that," Emma answered as Kaylee got to her knees, crouching behind the desk. She looked up and locked eyes with her sister, Emma's eyes widened but she gave nothing else away. "I... I mean, why chain them up? What are you-"
"You know they don't starve?" Cynthia said, turning back to her work. In the small glimpse Kaylee had of her work space, she didn't see the gun. The desk top was covered with paper, open books, glass vials, and microscope squares smeared with blood. "Your fellow next to you? He's been there for nine months. You'd never think he hadn't eaten in that long. You can cut off a finger or a toe, it bleeds for a second but then clots up and they act as though nothing's missing. They don't react to poison or wounds of any kind other than to the head. When will they die? When will we be rid of them? Maybe never."
"But I'm not like-"
"You are," Cynthia interrupted. "You are exactly like them, but you don't show it. There's something in you that stops that part. I'm trying to find it."
Kaylee crouched, her back to the desk now, her eyes scanning the room. It was an old shed before the infection. It made the mahogany desk look so much more out of place. Under a tarp she could see the corner of a lawnmower. There was a pile of lawn tools too, a plastic rake, a couple bags of fertilizer. One axe.
"A cure?"
"A way to stop them. A way other than blowing their heads off. Maybe a way to stop me from ever becoming like them, like you."
The conversation was ending, Kaylee could sense it. Now or never.
She sprang up, lurching over the desk. Cynthia fell back in her chair with a screech. But her reactions weren't slow. Kaylee's hands found her shirt, fingers wrapping in the fabric of her collar. She yanked but Cynthia's foot came up and landed on her chest. With a yell she kicked, and Kaylee felt her feet fly out from under her, her chest and shoulder landing with a thud on the desktop before she rolled towards the ground, her fingers still wrapped in dingy shirt collar. Cynthia fell after her and they tumbled together on the concrete floor.
Kaylee used the purchase she had on Cynthia's shirt to slam her head into the concrete, hoping that she would just knock out unconscious. But she didn't, she roared in anger, her hands flying to Kaylee's face and her nails raking down her cheek and neck. Kaylee cried out, blood dripping past her lips. Her hands lost their grip and she fell back. She saw Cynthia grab the gun from her belt. Kaylee raised her boot and kicked her, but Cynthia had the gun wrapped firmly in her fingers now.
"No!" The shout was Emma's as Cynthia pulled back the trigger. The shot was deafening, the ringing came back instantly to Kaylee's ears, drowning out all other sounds. Heat lanced her shoulder and her hand closed over the spot reflexively. She felt the blood stain her fingers with warmth. In Cynthia's shaky grasp, this bullet hadn't come close to killing her. The next one might. Kaylee kicked once more from where she lay on the floor. Cynthia was on her knees and she staggered back, the gun flying from her hand. It slid across the concrete and came to rest right by Emma's feet. Kaylee had a moment to see her sister strain and reach, long enough to know that she would never be able to grab it. Cynthia was already on her feet, her back to Kaylee.
She would never make it to the gun on time. Cynthia would reach it. She would turn and shoot. She'd kill Kaylee first, then Emma, then the rest with no hesitation. So Kaylee turned, saw the axe and grabbed it. The handle was wooden, smooth and worn under her fingers, slick now with the blood that had stained her face and hands and shoulder. She twisted around and ran the short length of the room, reached Cynthia just as she was turning, the gun already pointing at Kaylee's chest.
She raised the axe and brought it down, right in the juncture of Cynthia's shoulder and neck. It tore through the skin and muscle and Kaylee could feel the sickening slice of the sinew under her fingers. She was eye level with Cynthia and she watched as her eyes shone wide in shock, her pupils dilating rapidly. Blood spurt across Kaylee, spraying her neck before flowing down Cynthia's front.
She still held the gun.
Kaylee pulled the axe from her body, blood seeped from the wound as the blade came free with a nauseating slop. Cynthia was shaking, her grip on the gun trembling but not releasing. Kaylee raised the axe again, slammed it home in Cynthia's chest, and watched as all life drained from her eyes and the gun clattered to the floor.
The world seemed to tilt, bile threatened in Kaylee's throat. Cynthia's lifeless body slowly collapsed, pulling the ax from her hands as she slumped forward.
Blood pooled at her feet.
"Kay," Emma whispered. Kaylee couldn't look up, couldn't make eye contact. She stared at Cynthia's back, at the blood on the ground, and then at the blood staining her own hands. "Kaylee!"
There had to be keys. Somewhere in here. Keys to these chains so she could unlock Emma and they could leave and never come back. The smell was rising from the floor now, rusty and metallic, unmistakably blood. Kaylee's stomach roiled as the men chained to the wall keened with feverish intensity.
She turned from Emma, even as her sister continued to call her name. The desk where books and papers were strewn was flecked with drops of fresh blood, Kaylee's and Cynthia's and Emma's, all staining together now. No keys though. She looked to the wall. Nothing.
She turned back to her sister.
"The keys, Em, where-"
She stopped mid sentence, silenced by the very audible click of a cocked rifle behind her.
No.
Her eyes slid closed for a moment in resignation as a familiar weedy voice spoke out.
"I wouldn't have thought you had it in you," he said, walking into the room and shutting the door behind him. The infected chained next to Emma moaned, the pitch now rising as the blood that still seeped from Cynthia continued to stain and saturate the air. "On your knees."
Kaylee fell to her knees, barely feeling them connect with the cold concrete or the blood that seeped in to stain her jeans. Emma was pleading.
"Danny don't, please don't."
Danny advanced, standing right behind Kaylee. The barrel of the gun pressed to the back of her head, the metal hard and unforgiving as it trembled against her scalp.
"I can't let you live, you know that, don't you?" His voice was soft and even. But the rounded point of the gun rattled as Danny pressed it harder against her skull. Her neck craned forward involuntarily but she didn't answer him. He didn't want an answer, not really.
She had only moments left. Her life would end here, face down in the pool of blood she created when she killed Cynthia. Their blood would mix and mingle and Emma would have to watch it all. Her sister was still pleading, her voice getting louder and shriller, louder even than the infected next to her. Because she must have known as Kaylee did, nothing was going to stop this.
Her fingers drift to her pocket and the worn medal that lay in its' depths. The pad of her thumb traced the grooves of St. Jude. Kaylee felt her mind drift, not in passing flashes of her life, no heartfelt montage of sunlit moments, but to the faces of those she loved. The ones she would be leaving, her father, Andrew, Emma, Jack.
Her heart stuttered as the last face came into her mind, Jack. His olive skin and midnight black hair; his grin, both endearing and infuriating. His dark eyes and how they would be cloaked in sorrow when he found her.
Her chest was tight and her breaths came short and hard. She forced one last face into her mind, let it wipe Jack and Emma and the rest clear. Her mother. She would see her soon now, she was sure. Whatever was after this world, wherever she was, Kaylee hoped she wo
uld join her soon.
She could feel the pressure against her skull change, knew Danny was pulling the trigger back by the way the barrel pressed more firmly against her scalp. She clenched her eyes tight, not wanting the horror in the shed to be her last earthly sight, and focused instead on her mother's face.
Mom, mom.
Her fingers pressed to her medal.
"Kaylee!" Emma yelled and she fell forward with a thump, her body slamming to the ground, slick with blood.
But it was wrong, she wasn't dead. She was pinned to the floor by something heavy and she strained to get up.
"Where are the keys?"
Hope flashed and sparked at his voice. Quinton. His deep, even tone unmistakable.
"On her," came Emma's rasp. The chains were shaking, Kaylee could hear it. "Kay! Kaylee!"
"I'm okay," she choked out, rolling out from under Danny. He was unconscious, his body was what had knocked her to the floor. She got free and scrambled away from where he lay next to Cynthia's corpse. She pressed her back against the wall, not getting to her feet. Her breath was coming in a shallow pant; her eyes couldn't stop staring, she didn't want to see, but she couldn't look away.
The chains fell from Emma's limbs as Quinton unlocked them, she crossed the room and took Kaylee into her arms.
Kaylee's eyes were focused forward, on Danny's slumped form, the even breaths his unconscious body still took. On Cynthia, horribly still and unmoving. Emma pulled her to her knees and gripped her tightly.
"It's okay, Kay," she whispered, her lips close to her sister's ear. "Thank you. It's okay. I love you."
Strangely, it was those words that brought Kaylee back to reality. Emma loved her. She wasn't horrified by her. She understood. Kaylee's arms unlocked from where they hung limp at her sides, she jolted forward and her arms encircled her little sister, gripping fiercely. Emma seemed to understand. She whispered over and over.