The Seventh Day Box Set

by Tara Brown

  “Oh no.” I cringe and wait for the rest of it.

  “I guess she tried to get ice from the machine, thinking it would still have some. It made some crazy noise. There was a dormant herd around the far side of the mall we hadn’t noticed. They heard the noise. Next thing we know, all the way across the parking lot we hear this screaming, the herd coming with them two running as fast as they could. Needless to say, she runs way faster than Louis.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yup. And we couldn't get a vehicle, so we ran as far as we could go. They were still chasing us, and more were coming. We ran to the side of a building where a ladder was, climbed it and stayed up there all night long with them surrounding the building. They went dormant there, and we didn’t have a way off the building.”

  “That’s why you didn't come back?” I can’t imagine how they must have felt.

  “Yup. Eventually, some vehicles drove by, drawing the zombies away. We got down; we knew it was past the time you guys would wait. And if you were still there, we didn't want to risk drawing zombies that way. So we got a car, headed for the border and hoped we would catch you on your way home. But we didn't get lucky like you. We ran into some crazy people, they robbed us. Tried to take Bev. Jeff fought one of the guys, zombies came, he managed to get a gun from the guy he was fighting and shot them in the heads. The guys saw Jeff kill the zombies and got scared. They ran off. It was intense.” His eyes stay on them. “The whole thing was crazy.”

  “It still is. Poor Louis.” I reach for him but he flinches so I pause and pull back.

  “Sorry.” He tries to recover but there isn’t a way back from this.

  “It’s fine.” I wave it off. “Let’s finish loading the food back in and get out of here before someone comes.” I grab a bag of groceries from the ground and put it into the wet truck bed. We showered in the truck, so we didn't end up with muddy feet, which meant unloading everything we’d stolen.

  “Tanya—”

  “It’s fine. I get it, Mitch. And I don't really want to talk about it. I know, I’m a freak.”

  “You’re not a freak.” He grabs my arm, making me wince. “Oh shit, sorry. Wrong arm.” He pulls back as I place a hand on the bite mark. Since I cleaned it, it’s been aching.

  “It’s fine, seriously.” I honestly don’t want to discuss my freakiness. Or the fact he said he liked me and now he’s pulled away. It hurts, but at the same time, I also don't know how to deal with my situation.

  “Let’s go!” Mitch calls the other two, giving me one more pained glance before getting into the driver’s seat.

  A bit crushed, I climb in the back seat, bringing a banana with me. I hand one to Bev as she gets in and closes the door. She takes it and we eat quietly. I can’t imagine how scared she was when the men tried to take her. I’m glad I know that now. It’s too crazy to imagine but it gives me leeway for her. Allows for some of her mood swings. The terror of that, mixed with the guilt of Louis, must be eating at her.

  Mitch drives to the airport, the one we left from at the start of the field trip to fly to Vancouver. As he passes by the parking for the departures side of the small airport, Bev mutters, “This is a real full-circle moment.”

  It’s cold and bitter and makes me giggle, which in turn makes her giggle. We’re fully laughing when Mitch parks and the two guys give us matching disgusted stares.

  “What is wrong with you?” Mitch asks.

  But we can’t answer. We’re laughing too hard. Jeff shakes his head as he climbs out and walks to the hangar with the helicopters.

  Mitch grabs bags of food and clothes and follows, scanning the area for zombies.

  And we laugh.

  We laugh until something happens—I don't know what, but suddenly we both fall quiet and the silence is painful until she says, “I bet Ms. Mara’s car is still in the parking lot.”

  “Louis’s is,” I whisper.

  Without making a sound, tears silently slip down her cheeks and she sobs.

  I wrap an arm around her shoulders. “It wasn't your fault. None of this is anyone’s fault.” I pause, realizing I’m wrong. “Well, that’s not true. Someone is to blame, but I guarantee we will never get the chance to meet them. Someone made this happen in a lab somewhere. And they’re the reason this happened. And nothing we do trying to survive it is our fault.”

  She sniffles and snuggles into me.

  Of all the people in our group, I never imagined it would be the four of us still standing. But I’m glad it is.

  I squeeze once more and climb out. We grab bags of stuff and carry it to the helicopter.

  When we’re inside with the door closed, Jeff starts it up. The noise is almost unbearable until we put on the headsets.

  Jeff’s way too excited about this. “It’s older but it works and the tank is full. We should be in Boulder in a few hours.” He turns to Mitch. “Tell me you know the way.”

  “It’s easy. You fly southeast and you’ll hit it.” Mitch shrugs.

  “Thanks, that was useful,” Jeff shouts and lifts us off the ground. My stomach tightens with the fear of his flying capabilities, but within a few seconds were actually moving forward and he seems to know what he’s doing.

  “If you follow the highway, I can direct us that way!” Mitch shouts.

  “Okay,” Jeff shouts back. Between the two of them this is possibly going to work.

  I cross my fingers and pray silently, Please God. Please let them be in Boulder.

  She or he or they don’t answer. They never do. But the tingle in my skin convinces me that maybe, just maybe, someone is listening.

  When we fly over Boulder hours later, I’m convinced someone is listening.

  A voice comes over the radio, remarkably normal sounding, “Rogue helicopter coming in from the north, who are you and do you have any bitten on-board?”

  “We’re four from Billings, no bitten,” Jeff replies. He and Mitch glance at me. “You’re not technically a zombie.”

  “I’m bitten, Jeff. I could be contagious. We have to tell them when we get there.” I hate this, but it’s true. If I were somehow able to infect the healthy, I’d hate myself. What if I got Mason sick? Or Mitch?

  “Okay, well let’s not rush into anything,” Mitch says calmly. “Let’s get a feel for the base first. Because if they’re not going to listen about you being immune and are just going to shoot you, I’m not down for that.”

  “Me either,” Jeff agrees.

  “Nope,” Bev mutters and grips my hand. “I don’t think you’re contagious.”

  “I hope not,” I offer with a sigh and let them all decide. They’re detached from it all, whereas I’m feeling like patient zero.

  “You’re cleared to land. Follow the markers in the southeast corner of the city,” the voice says.

  “Roger that,” Jeff replies with an official sounding response.

  I’m tense and scared when we touch down, sort of the opposite of how I thought I might be. We’re surrounded by military, men with guns and stone-cold expressions.

  They’re shouting from the moment the doors open, and we are ushered away from the chopper. They say things to Jeff, asking him questions of our journey as we run.

  Mitch moves closer to me as we get to a building where the metal doors open and a man with a hard stare is waiting for us.

  It’s not at all what I thought we might find; I assumed they’d be excited we were alive and normal-ish. But they’re official and angry and asking questions.

  Bev steps forward, explaining who we are and what happened and how we ended up with a Canadian. Mitch adds details she forgets.

  “And what about you?” the man asks me, silencing everyone else.

  “Excited to see military and a city that doesn’t seem to have been infected.” I don’t know what else to say. “I’m looking for my brother and possibly my parents. They came in from Billings. I don’t know when.”

  “You’ll be given housing, jobs, rations, and the expectation
s are that you will all pull your weight.” His eyes dart to me. “And as for your family, we have a registration. Once you’re signed in, you can try to find their names.”

  It’s the most hope I’ve had in a week.

  Even if I think this guy will kill me.

  Maybe.

  Chapter 15

  Day Twenty

  My footsteps on the pavement seem too noisy but they belong here, even in the dark, cold night. The city is a fortress of safety, but I squeeze Mason’s small hand as I steer him to the left. Not that I need to, he remembers where we live better than I do.

  “What time is Mom off?” he asks as he opens the gate to our small house. Six of us live here. My mom, my brother, me, and my friends.

  “Eleven,” I answer him and notice my eyes continue to scan the dark shadows here. I don’t trust this city, and I don’t know why. The moment we arrived, I felt uneasy and it hasn’t left. “Go and brush your teeth, okay?” I mutter as I open the front door and let him go in first. “Please.”

  “Fine, but I’m reading!” He gives me attitude and I smile. I missed him. And Mom. The reunion was weirdly intense. Mom sobbed like I have never seen before. She kissed Mitch and Jeff a lot, too much actually. Mason cried but he was embarrassed. He didn’t want Mitch and Jeff to see him upset. I found out then that Dad wasn’t with them. It was a bad moment, realizing my father was likely dead. Mom had stories and Mason had big eyes as she told them and he nodded along. And the beagle was fine. Is fine. Is sleeping on the sofa as we enter the house. The little brat barely lifts an eyelid to see it’s us.

  “Good evening, Buster.” I scratch his head as I close the door and point upstairs before my brother can argue.

  He’s loud on the stairs and the dog is off the sofa, running after him.

  Two peas in a sassy pod.

  “Hey, you’re home.” Mitch smiles as he walks into the living room with a book and sits next to a candle.

  “Yeah.”

  “How was the day?” he asks, cracking the book open but keeping his eyes on me.

  “Tiring. I sorted veg and fruits all day long. And I work with these dudes that don’t want to do anything. They sit and talk all day. It’s annoying.” I take off my shoes and stretch my toes. “What about you?”

  “Same. I worked on the database again. A whole day of logging names and getting something resembling order up and running. I think they’re going to try to pull some scam, pretending the president is set up somewhere here, and make it sound like we’re a lot more organized than we are. Trying to keep the lawlessness to a minimum. They’re sending riders out like a postal service to get correspondences to places and see if there are others doing as well as we are.”

  “What?” I scoff. “The president? Who is going to believe that?”

  “We both know there are people who will. I’m not even sure the president is alive. I heard the entire East Coast is a mess. God knows who’s actually still with us from the government.”

  “Yikes.” I stroll into the kitchen to take my meds. It’s the last dose of the antibiotics. I take it and pull my shirt to the side, wincing when I see the infection is still there. I’m certain I need to see a doctor, but the perfect bite mark is not something I can show anyone. Not now that the city is rounding up the bitten. Honestly, there’s no hiding this. I can practically see Lululemon’s teeth in the wound.

  There is only one option.

  I don’t like it but it’s all I’ve come up with in the last few days.

  When I’m certain this is the only option, that or be taken by the scary military guys, I decide to ask Mitch to help.

  “Hey,” I say softly as I walk back into the living room. “Can you do me a favor?”

  Mitch’s eyes lift from the book he holds cracked in the dim light of the candle. “What?”

  “It’s crazy, but can you cut my bite off or burn the hell out of it so I can see a doctor? It’s getting worse. I can feel it. I’m sick, Mitch.”

  “What?” He sits up, closing the book and cringing. “No.”

  “Fine.” I sigh, defeated, and turn to the kitchen where the best weapons are. I have to do it before I lose my nerve.

  “Tan, don’t do this.” Mitch gets up from the chair. “It’s a terrible idea. You could end up really wounded.”

  “It’s better than dying from this infection or ending up labeled one of the bitten. Did you hear about that? They’re rounding them up.” I stare at him, hating the fear in his gaze. “I’ll do it myself if you’ll look after Mason while I run to the hospital.”

  “Hospital, what for?” Bev asks as she enters the kitchen from the back room. Jeff is hot on her heels.

  “I’m going to cut this off or burn it and get my mom to clean it, and we’re all going to pretend it’s a wound. Just a normal one.” I point at the bite. “I heard today they’re inspecting more people for bite marks, and they’re all paranoid about the ones who survived the bite. Rounding them up.”

  “I heard that too.” Jeff nods. “I heard the survivors who were bitten but lived were all electrocuted in some way during the bite. Like there’s a dude with a pacemaker, and he electrocuted the zombie as it bit him.”

  “And that reset the nanobots? They must be programmed to kill, spread and kill, and the electrocution resets them. They go back to their base programming, which is probably hibernate. Holy shit.” Mitch has it all figured out before I can get a deep breath in.

  “My mom will help me. She’s already been keeping an eye on it, cleaning it. She scrubbed it the other day to take off a bunch of dead flesh. She said it necrotized or something. Asked if I got bit by a dog. I lied and told her I did.”

  “It doesn’t look like a dog bite.” Bev lifts an eyebrow dubiously.

  “I know, that’s the problem. If I end up getting checked, or if anyone sees it, I’m in the roundup.”

  “Jesus, fine. I’ll do it,” Mitch snaps and gets up, storming into the kitchen. “We’ll cut it so the teeth marks are gone. You can say you fell and cut it on a tool in the backyard shed. There’s a virtual Tanya trap back there anyway.”

  “Thanks!” I say, adding a bit of extra attitude.

  “I’m not watching this.” Bev scowls and grabs Jeff’s hand, pulling him to the stairs. “We’ll watch Mason while you go.” They leave us alone, me and Mitch who is scouring the drawer for the correct weapon.

  “Just use anything!” I say angrily.

  “Fine!” He’s angry or scared or both. He grabs a knife, dumps some of the vodka Jeff found in the back shed on it, drinks a shot of it, and walks to me with the most intense look on his face. His eyes are fiery with rage.

  He breathes heavily three times before he grabs my shoulder, digging in with his fingers and shaking his head. He takes a second then lowers the knife.

  The searing pain of the cut is unbearable. I nearly take a knee as he filets me. A sound of crying and screaming and trying to muffle that leaves my lips and fingers but it’s noisy. My eyes flutter and for one second I am certain I’m going to pass out. I cling to the counter with one hand and muffle my face with the other, and then as fast as it started, it’s over.

  The cutting is done. Mitch rushes to the sink, he throws up, and I drop to my knees as blood pours down my arm and hand.

  My fingers are dripping blood all over the floor.

  My brain isn’t functioning.

  The pain is overwhelming and I’m gagging and crying and shaking.

  It hurts everywhere.

  And then he’s back. He has a cloth and he’s pressing it on the wound and I cry louder. He helps me up and drags me from the house.

  “Hold this!” he snaps and presses my hand on the rag. I’m blind with pain and tears.

  He lifts me and carries me, running as fast as he can to the hospital which is only two blocks away. We got our house based on the fact my mom is a nurse and needs a house close to the hospital.

  He rushes the doors. Blood has seeped through the cloth, and people are
asking questions.

  He sounds panicked, my mom is hurrying over. She’s upset.

  Mitch says, “Tripped and sliced.” And it’s all I catch.

  Mom is upset and I’m in a room with a bed and a man is looking at it. He winces and says something to Mom.

  She hurries off. Her footsteps are loud on the floor, despite all the other patients.

  Mitch is taken by another man; they leave me with a nurse I don’t know. She’s applying pressure and I’m still sort of crying. I don’t know if it’s pain or fear or what.

  The man comes back, he pulls the cloth back and nods. He says, “Antibiotics too,” and he’s gone.

  It’s a whirlwind of moving and talking and cleaning and needles and bandaging. When they’re done, I’m numb on the side where the bite is but my whole arm is covered in blood.

  Mitch hasn’t come back and my mom hasn’t either.

  I’m sitting on the bed, staring at the puddle of my blood on the floor. It doesn’t move. It’s an old-fashioned puddle. It just sits there and glistens.

  A guy comes in, he’s loud and talking and annoying. He’s a patient I think too. He sits across from me, his reflection in the red puddle.

  When no one else is there, he leans forward and the puddle loses him so I lift my face.

  His eyes dart to my wound and he smirks. “Tried to cut the bite mark off? It won’t work. It heals right up. The bots heal you. They’re going to know.” He’s smug. But he doesn’t know me.

  “I’m not bitten,” I lie.

  “Yes, you are. I feel it on you. But it’s different. Like my bots know you have bots, but they don’t speak.”

  “What?” I am so lost. And how does he know so much?

  “I’m Liam,” he says and I have a bad feeling. A bad feeling about him, and me.