by West, Mark
Eden nudges his shoulder. ‘We’ll just have strip down.’
A hot flush runs over William’s body, causing his skin to go clammy. ‘I um … ah …’
Eden begins to giggle.
William feels useless around girls. Growing up with no mother only increased his struggles to talk to them. Not like talk, talk. He can do that. But boyfriend and girlfriend talk, the flirty kind …
At school, he played a range of sports. He was never the best, but never the worst either. Whenever the team won, a few of the more senior kids would throw parties and invite half the year to join in. Most of the boys lapped up the attention from the girls, but William would shy away, feeling awkward. This is the first time someone has paid real attention to him, and he likes it.
‘I guess we’ll have to,’ he responds, glad that the room is dark enough to hide the sweat on his face. He wipes it away. ‘I don’t know if any of us will be sleeping after this. Perhaps I should keep watch while you try. We have a long journey tomorrow.’
‘I’ll keep you company then. I’m awake now. We can let Cynthia rest.’
William smiles and directs Eden away from the door. They sit on the floor and lean against the counter. Eden immediately rests her head on his shoulder. It feels nice to William, almost normal. He hopes it lasts.
Chapter 20
Why?
William wakes to the sound of birds squabbling outside. He rubs his eyes. Eden’s head is now resting in his lap. He gently runs a hand along her arm and then gently jiggles her shoulder.
‘Hey, Eden, it’s morning,’ he whispers.
Eden’s body feels warm. Her singlet top is riding up her back, exposing a band of skin above her jeans. He stares at her flesh.
‘What you are looking at?’
William’s eyes dart away. Eden is smiling up at him. ‘Um nothing,’ he says sheepishly. ‘It’s morning, that’s all.’
Light is streaming through a gap in the boards covering the glass front. He shifts Eden’s head off his lap and adjusts his pants.
‘We must have fallen asleep,’ he says.
‘Guess we did.’ Eden rubs her face and yawns. ‘Do you know what the time is?’
William looks at his watch. ‘6.15 am.’
Eden groans. ‘I do miss the days when having a lie-in wouldn’t kill you.’
William chuckles and stands, stretching out his arms. ‘I guess Cynthia must have slept alright then.’
Eden groans as she reluctantly stands up. ‘My neck is stiff.’ She leans back, allowing her back to crack with relief.
William catches the curve of her stomach as her top lifts.
‘You okay there?’ Eden giggles.
He shies away with embarrassment. ‘I wasn’t—’
‘I’m only messing with you, Will. Come on.’ She heads for the back room. ‘Let’s get Cynth and get out of here.’
William nods, a little relieved that they wouldn’t be alone any longer.
The first thing William notices is wrong when he enters the back room is that the window is open – not just a little, wide open, enough for someone to slip in or out.
Eden calls out. ‘Cynthia?’
William checks the room frantically. The bed is empty, her bag missing.
‘Do you think she has left?’ he asks, trying not to panic.
Eden shakes her head, her face pale with worry. ‘She wouldn’t just leave us like this. Something has happened. What if—’
‘We don’t know anything at this point. We mustn’t panic.’ But he can feel his hands trembling again.
What if Eden is right? What if someone or something took her?
‘I’ll check the toilets. She may be in there.’ William runs from the room. He knocks on the toilet door. ‘Cynthia?’ There is no answer, so he slowly enters, one hand lingering over the knife on his belt. ‘Cynthia, are you in here?’
The tiny room smells of stale urine. There’s mould on the ceiling and graffiti covers the walls –unwanted tattoos. There are two cubicles, both doors shut. The sink is fed from a tank outside. William had tried it. It tasted like dirt and looks like it too. He has avoided the bathroom as much as possible since arriving. The room gives him the creeps.
He checks the bottom of the first cubicle and sees no feet. Same with the next one. He knocks on the doors, wondering if she is hiding. ‘Cynthia? Are you in here?’
The door swings freely open, clearly empty except for a dead roach. He checks the next stall to find it virtually the same.
Where is she?
He leaves the room and goes back to Eden who breaks down with the news.
‘I’m sorry, Eden. I don’t know where she is.’
William’s body aches for her loss, knowing the horrible feeling of abandonment all too well. He sits and places an arm around Eden’s shoulders.
‘Perhaps she went out to get something?’ But William knows that’s a lie. Cynthia wasn’t dumb enough to go wandering out by herself.
‘What if that thing last night got her?’ Eden sniffs.
William stands and walks towards the window. ‘If it did get inside. How come we didn’t hear anything?’
He begins examining the frame, searching for clues.
‘Because we were asleep,’ Eden sobs. ‘I should have stayed with her. I shouldn’t have fallen asleep.’
‘It’s not your fault,’ William says, running a hand around the frame. There is something odd about the way the sash is resting. He looks around the room, noticing a chair that has toppled over. ‘Was that chair always there?’
Eden looks up, eyes red and glassy. ‘What?’
‘The chair. Was it always that close to the window?’
Eden shrugs. ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’
William stands the timber chair up. It’s covered in dust and the lacquer is peeling like skin after a bad sunburn. There are shoe marks on the seat.
‘Someone’s been on this.’ He pushes the chair up against the wall below the window. ‘I think she used this to get out.’
Eden walks over, wiping her nose. ‘But why would she leave?’
‘Good question.’
William stands on the chair and leans through the window, testing the gap for size. The weather is perfect, the sun well above the horizon and shining bright in a clear, blue sky. There is a warm, soft breeze, and the ground is already drying out.
William points to the frame. ‘The sash has been knocked slightly out of position.’ He grabs the sash and tugs on it. It squeaks dully before falling back into place. ‘See?’
Eden watches in amazement. ‘So, she did leave,’ she says grimly.
William looks around outside: no Infected in sight. ‘If she left, I doubt she went before sunrise.’ He turns to Eden. ‘If we hurry, we may be able to catch her. Grab your stuff and let’s move.’
Chapter 21
Go away!
I pull up a few streets back from our place and check the vicinity. Either side of the road are walled off mansions: deserted since the day it all began. All I can see are leaves blowing down the road in drifts. I wind down my window and enjoy the fresh air. The woman stinks. I’m sure her arm is festering underneath the bandage. I get an urge to look and hover a hand over her severed elbow. She is fast asleep. She won’t mind.
I feel an unwanted thrill creeping through my skin. The infection is taking hold. It’s not the first time this has happened. I stare blankly at the bloodied bandage, mesmerised by the spreading red stain. I snap myself out of my trance.
What the hell is wrong with you, Jackson?
The temptations get worse when I’m hungry. One whiff of blood and I find my mind reverts to savage instincts, like one of the crazies. That’s why I carry food everywhere I go, grazing like an animal in a paddock. Victoria thinks I’m trying to bulk up, but I do it so I don’t end up eating her while she sleeps.
Another feeling crawls through my flesh. I glance into the mirror and spot three Infected walking down the road. It’s game time.
I hop from the car and pull free my gun, but I decide it might be a bit noisy. I place it back and begin a quick search for another solution. My eyes fall on a metal pole on the back seat. I remove the weapon and hold it up for a closer look. The pole is thick and has a welded circular saw blade at one end, the serrated edge coated in dried blood – genius.
I roll the weapon in my hand, testing its weight before shutting the doors of the truck. I’d be pissed if I came this far to have the woman snatched while I wasn’t concentrating.
The Infected are about thirty metres away, moving slowly and snarling as they approach. The first one I attack is an older man, tall and bone thin with shabby clothes. I swing the bat through the air, and drive the blade deep into his neck, almost severing his head.
The second Infected is a woman. She lunges for me and I spin back around, cracking her skull wide open like an egg. She falls to the road, eyes involuntarily blinking, brain everywhere.
I look up to see the last one, a younger man covered in bite marks, staring at me. His expression blank, his eyes cold as stone.
‘Can I help you?’ I ask, panting from the sudden exertion.
The man’s clothes hang off skinny shoulders; his pants are ripped around the knees. His hollow eyes fall on my weapon.
‘That’s right. You’re next.’
I show him the blade, then turn the weapon around and around in my hand as I edge closer. But the Infected doesn’t move.
‘Well, go on, attack me.’
It continues to stare.
What the hell is wrong with it?
A strange feeling bubbles in my stomach.
What’s happening here?
‘Well if you’re not going to attack me, go away.’ I point towards the distant hills, confused and furious. It turns and walks off.
‘What the fuck?’ a voice says.
I spin to see the woman staring blankly at the Infected walking away.
‘Did you just speak to that thing?’ she asks.
I glance back to the Infected dragging its feet along the road. The truth is, I don’t know what I just did.
‘No,’ I lie. ‘It just left. Perhaps it’s afraid.’ I indicate the bodies.
The woman shakes her head.
‘Bullshit. I heard you talking to it.’ She begins to back away. ‘You’re one of them.’
I try to look surprised by her accusation. ‘Rubbish,’ I lie again.
The truth is, I don’t know what the hell I am anymore.
‘That’s bullshit and you know it,’ she snaps back again. ‘You told it to go away.’
It’s at that moment I see she has my gun. She slips it from her shoulder and points it at me awkwardly, balancing it on her decapitated arm.
‘Whoa.’ I raise both arms, the weapon still in my hand. ‘What are you doing?’
‘Tell me the truth!’ she demands, jabbing the gun towards me.
I glance around, ensuring we’re alone. ‘What’s your name?’ I ask calmly.
‘Vivian,’ she snaps. ‘What does that matter?’
Her arm is shaking from the weight of the rifle. Any moment she could bump the trigger and kill me where I stand. I don’t have much time.
‘I’m Jackson. The guy who saved you remember?’
‘I remember. But then I saw that shit.’ She raises her eyebrows.
‘I have a wife.’ I indicate towards the direction of the house. ‘She is waiting for me. We have plenty of food and something to help with your pain.’
Vivian pauses. ‘But I saw…’ her words trail off and I take that opportunity to cut in.
‘Look.’ I drop my weapon, showing my vulnerability. ‘You don’t know what you saw. You’re tired and hungry. By the looks of that wound, I’m betting you’re in a shit load of pain too.’
Vivian begins to lower the gun.
‘Let me help you,’ I say, calmly. ‘Forget what you saw.’
I ease closer.
‘But …’
I shake my head. ‘Let me help you, Vivian.’ I encourage her. ‘I can help you.’
The gun falls from her grip and she begins to cry. I move in quickly, stepping in between her and the weapon. She falls into my open arms and leans in on my shoulder. I feel tears soaking through my shirt. It would be so easy to knife her in the neck right now: hide my secret and end it before Victoria finds out. My hand lingers near the blade on my hip, contemplating. She won’t speak, I tell myself, but I can’t be sure.
I grip the handle without realising it and draw the knife free. I close my eyes and take in a deep breath. The smell of her skin dwells in my nose. I can almost taste her wet tears. It’s making me ravenous with hunger.
Shit!
‘I’m sorry,’ Vivian whimpers.
I notice my teeth are bared. Saliva is drooling from the corner of my mouth and falling on the back of her shirt.
‘That’s okay,’ I say, soothingly. ‘You’ve been through a lot.’
I wrap my arms a little tighter. Vivian tries to break free of my bear hug. I sense I’m making her nervous.
‘Jackson.’
I can hear the apprehension in her voice. She tries again to wriggle free.
‘You’re hurting me.’
I make a hushing sound, but it comes out more like a hiss. I tighten my grip, ensuring the knife is held firmly at her neck. Vivian still hasn’t noticed it. She begins to scream and thrashes about trying to get free.
‘Please let go!’
Her severed arm whacks me like a rubber toy. The other arm I’ve got locked tight against her. I lift my knife and it flashes in front of her face. She cries out in horror.
‘Please, no!’
I can’t control myself. I have lost all sense of humanity and plunge the knife into her throat. Vivian makes a gurgling sound and I feel sick with pleasure. Her body goes limp. I yank the blade free and drop her. I stare in bewilderment. I’m a monster.
My whole world has turned upside down. My hands are shaking and I feel sick with adrenaline.
What have I done?
My stomach growls. It’s still hungry; it needs to feed.
I close my eyes, trying to picture something else. But I can’t get the image of Vivian out of my mind. I turn my back on the body, but spin around a second later and fall to my knees, hands trembling just centimetres from the wound. Blood is pooling around my knees – it’s warm.
What would she taste like?
I tell my legs to stand, but they stay rock solid on the ground. I push the hair back from her face, lean in close and blank out, allowing the infection to take over.
Chapter 22
Circling the drain
Victoria meets me at the door with baby Isabelle. The pair are both smiling, grateful to see me home alive and in one piece. Victoria takes my pack and goes to hand me Isabelle, but I shake my head, explaining that I’m dirty and could be infectious. I head straight upstairs to take a shower. It’s my second wash in the past hour.
‘Are you okay?’ Victoria asks.
She is leaning against the jamb holding out a plate of stale cookies: choc chip, my favourite.
I shake my head. ‘I’ve already eaten.’ My stomach churns at the thought of my last meal. ‘Just a messed-up kind of day. You know how it is.’
‘Anything you want to talk about?’
I turn my back on Victoria, step in the shower and hold my face up to the stream of water. The water feels blissful and I stay like this for a few minutes before filling my mouth and spitting. Something small and meaty circles the drain before disappearing. I turn back around, hopeful Victoria hasn’t noticed and give her a reassuring smile.
‘Nothing I can’t handle,’ I say as convincing as I can. ‘Just ran into a few more Infected than usual.’
I let the water run over my neck and shoulders, easing the tension.
‘Are you sure?’
I force another smile as best I can. I just want to be left alone.
‘I’m sure. Just saw a fe
w things that gave me the creeps. I’ll explain when I get out.’
I look towards the bathroom door, hinting for some privacy. Victoria gets the hint and leaves. I’m left feeling like a prick. She just wants company.
The truth is, I’m not okay. After the … Well, after I had finished, I was covered in blood and smelled like a corpse. I was like one of them. No, I was one of them. I spent the next few hours washing myself off in a nearby house. To make it not seem so suss, I had rinsed my clothes, hung them out to dry before rubbing in dirt to make it seem like they had not been washed. Most of the blood didn’t come out. There was no avoiding that.
I hop out of the shower, grab my towel and stand before the full-length mirror. I’m covered in scars from the past years. Every one tells a story. The best ones are from the past. The one on my knee I did while learning to skateboard with my mate Rohan. The small divot on my elbow was from snowboarding when I hit a rock. The circular burn on my forearm was from a cigarette to remember my gap year in the UK with Tyler. But the best scar, or should I say scars, are ones on the back of my hand, from where I broke three metacarpals while playing rugby at school. I was number eight and a mindless player. I didn’t know the rules and didn’t care. I was fierce, free. Now, look at me.
I get dressed and go downstairs. Victoria is in the lounge, alone, reading a book. I sit down beside her, but she ignores me.
‘Where is Isabelle?’ I ask.
I know the answer but need an ice breaker.
‘In bed,’ Victoria says without looking at me. ‘She misses you.’
‘I’m sorry.’ I run a hand over her shoulder, and she shrugs it off. ‘I went back to the house for a closer look.’
Victoria glances up. ‘And?’
‘I found something.’
She places the book down. I have her attention now. ‘What did you find?
‘Bodies,’ I answer, biting the side of my cheek.
‘What, like Infected?’
I shake my head. ‘Human bodies.’
She gasps. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Remember when I was in Canberra and those guys held me and Lincoln captive?’