by Gayle Katz
“Why? Why does it matter where the money comes from? They’re the ones willing to pay the most. If we can milk them, it’ll be like we won the lottery, only better… no taxes,” he smiles.
“There are consequences to our actions, Lance. Don’t you realize that? Taking money from them is like validating everything they’ve done. Are you still working for them? I’m here in this godforsaken place because you told me they wanted me dead. Was that true, or were you lying to me?”
“It’s true. And I’ve never lied to you.”
“Why don’t I believe you?”
“Don’t talk to me like that. I brought you here to protect you. So you could continue your research in a place where no one was going to ask any questions. I think that proves my agenda is all about saving you and helping your cause, doesn’t it? I saved your life!” Lance grabs her button-down blouse and jerks her towards him. He kisses her hard on the lips and wraps his arms around her, pinning her to him. Their bodies are pressed together as if they’re one. She’s not fighting him, and it actually looks like she’s kissing him back. His hands begin to wander to other parts of her body. That’s when she knees him in the groin. Lance falls backward onto the ground, laughing. For added protection, she pulls a knife out of her pocket with her right arm.
“Who said you could touch me?”
“I love you. Don’t lie to yourself. Admit it. You want me as much as I want you.”
“You haven’t a clue what I want and I’m not fallin’ for it!”
“Falling for what?”
“Your romantic, good guy routine. You’re not my protector.”
“You’re so sexy when you’re angry, you know that, right?”
“Lance, you’re selling my research to bad people.”
“Bad people? And who are we? Hell, you’re experimenting on people.”
“It’s not the same. The subjects I have were already infected.”
“Not all of them.”
“Fine, but we’re still not the same. We’re trying to find a cure that’ll work for everyone, no matter what mutation of the infection they have. What we’re doing is for the greater good to cure people and make them better, stronger. Your employer is just going to make money off of it. Or, keep people sick and paying for a cure that doesn’t work. That’s criminal in my book.”
“What’s so wrong with making money?”
“My research, my rules. The moment you sell it to the highest bidder trying to raise their bottom line means that some people won’t be able to afford the cure. That’s not fair.”
“I hate to tell you this, babe, but if you couldn’t tell already, life isn’t fair.”
“Don’t quote trite colloquialisms to me.”
“You might not want to hear it, but it’s the truth. I didn’t make it like that, it’s just the way this messed up world operates.”
“What happens when people can’t pay for the cure? Huh? Then what?”
He stares at her and says nothing.
“I’ll tell you what happens. They’ll turn into zombies, die, or hurt someone else trying to get the money for the cure. Before you know it, our peaceful way of life is gone forever. And that’s what we’re trying to save. Don’t you get it? We need a universal cure, or else the zombie epidemic will continue to rage out of control and annihilate us all. All of your money and prized possessions won’t mean crap. And all of the people you love will be gone forever. Short term profit for long term damnation.”
“Baby, listen. I understand what you’re saying, but if you need the cash for your research like you said you do, this is the only viable option right now.”
“If you really love me, you’d find another way.”
“It’s because I love you that we need to do it this way.”
She sighs. There’s a moment of silence. “Fine,” she concedes. “Just help my guys load her onto the truck.”
Chapter 3
________________________________________
As my eyes open, there’s only darkness surrounding me. I’m on the floor. It feels cool against my hot and sweaty skin. Picking my head up off of the floor, perspiration is dripping down my face, my neck, and every other part of my body. I can’t seem to banish the vision of zombies tearing my limbs off from my brain. Out of breath and still unable to discern what’s around me, I feel for my arms and legs. Momentarily relieved that they’re all intact and still connected to my body, I upset myself all over again when I realize that my nightmare might not be over.
Still on the floor and lost in the darkness, I look around. Wait. Am I still dreaming? Is this real? What is this place? It doesn’t matter. I have to get out of here. Jack has to know what’s going on. My senses begin to adjust to my unfamiliar surroundings. As my eyesight attempts to focus, I hear growling coming from all around me. There’s also a repugnant smell enveloping me. It’s invading my nostrils. It’s disgusting, but familiar. Crap! Zombies. If I can smell them, they can definitely smell me. That might be what’s prompting them to make noise. They’re hungry. And they want to feed. On me.
“No!” Fear jolts through my body, prompting me to sit up and assess the situation. My eyes continue to wander, still desperately trying to focus and adjust to the darkness. Am I still in a cell? Crap! I am. Looking around, shadowy figures are all along the perimeter of the room, all separated into what looks like individual cages. Suddenly, being in my own cage isn’t the worst place I could be right now. Adrenaline pumping, I jump up and look around my own cage, praying they didn’t stick me with a roommate. “Phew.” I’m alone. That’s good. Now that I’m sure I’m not in imminent danger of being bitten, I try to relax. Conserving my energy for when I really need it might be the best thing I can do right now.
Wiping some of the sweat away, I feel my neck. That damn transmitter bump is still there, but the pain is gone, for now. This thing has got to go, but I don’t know how to get it out. My nervous habit of picking my fingers has now moved to this thing in my neck. I start to pick at the bump with my fingernails, scratching my neck up until it feels red and raw. Oh damn! It hurts. The skin on my neck is much more sensitive than the skin on my fingers. I don’t think I can just dig it out with my nails. Depending upon how deep it’s embedded, it may require more skill and better tools so I don’t end up bleeding to death.
I don’t like being controlled. In my sleepy haze, someone moved me from Lance’s club to wherever I am now. While I wasn’t out cold, I don’t remember what happened. I do remember seeing and hearing something, but the pain from this thing in my neck was so intense that I guess my brain shut down all of my important systems until the pain subsided. I have to do something. Figure out where I am. Make a plan to escape.
“Hello?” I venture as I tiptoe closer to the bars to get a better look at the room where I’m being held against my will. Hoping there’s a comforting human voice somewhere in here to prevent me from going crazy, I ask again, “Hello?”
In response, the zombie screeching gets even louder after they hear my voice. I back away from the bars, unsure about what’s around me. My eyes dart from cage to cage. All I see are zombies, no humans. Some of the cages are empty. That’s strange. Are they doing this to other people, too?
On the plus side, Lance is nowhere to be seen. If he was here, I’m sure he’d take pleasure in taunting me. And I have a feeling I’m not in his bar anymore either, at least I don’t think so, which could be a good thing. On the not-so-bright side, none of that helps me figure out where the heck I am now. This place gives me a creepy science lab vibe. That can’t be good.
“Hello?” I try a bit louder, determined to figure out where I am. The third time’s the charm, right? The zombie chorus acts up again. Suddenly, I hear a click and the lights come on.
Seeing everything bathing in the glow of fluorescent yellow light is surreal. It’s confirmed. I’m definitely in a lab of some sort. That doesn’t bode well. There are two things in every lab: a scientist and something to experiment on. And t
here’s no question about which I am.
“Hello?” I say again. “I know someone’s there. The lights didn’t turn themselves on.”
No answer.
“Please talk to me. P-Please just tell me where I am, all right? I’m scared.”
I see an attractive young woman with blonde hair walk over. As she walks closer and my eyes adjust to the light, I notice that she’s missing her left arm. “Jane?” she asks.
“Yes. That’s me. And you are?” Even though I ask the question, she seems somewhat familiar, but I can’t remember who she is or where I saw her before.
“Just a researcher looking for the real cure to stop this zombie plague once and for all.”
“Huh? I’m confused. I thought there was already a cure developed. That’s what they gave me.”
“If you’re talking about the cure for one of the original strains of the virus, yes. However, the zombie virus is similar to the influenza virus. They both evolve over time, making the original cure outdated and ineffective. Both cures need to be reformulated after the viruses cycle through multiple mutations to keep their efficacy.”
“What do you mean? It doesn’t work as effectively? It doesn’t cure the zombie virus anymore?”
“No. It doesn’t. It suppresses it. Sometimes. Maybe. The cure only fights the original virus while the mutation is still allowed to run unchecked and corrupt human cells. In actuality, the person is basically torn in two. They’re their own Jekyll and Hyde, manifesting a dual personality. The person has their normal human side and then develops a vicious infected side, both fighting for supremacy in one body.”
“Gah. That’s horrible, but… but… I-I don’t understand why I’m here. I’m not a scientist. I can’t help you.”
“True. You’re not a scientist, but that doesn’t mean you can’t help.”
“I’m afraid to ask, but why am I here?”
“Your blood.”
“My blood? You want my blood?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“You were infected and you survived,” she says pointing to my zombie bite mark scar. “Your body and blood cells are resilient. We want to take samples, analyze it, test it, and learn from it.”
“How much do you need?”
“Not much. Just a little bit. Think of it as giving blood for a needy cause. Just like you would do during a blood drive after an emergency.”
“A needy cause? That’s all well and good, but I don’t know anything about you or your organization. How am I supposed to trust your word? I’m gonna need more information. And time. I need time to think this over.”
“Fair enough, but there’s really nothing to think about. And I’m not sure what information you want. It comes down to this: either you want to help cure people or you’re fine letting them die. Seems like an easy decision to me.”
“I’m sorry. Like I said before, I don’t know you. How do I verify what you’re talking about?”
“All you need to do is realize that together we have the power to save millions of people from this deadly plague.”
“If you’re telling the truth, that sounds good, but what’s in it for me?”
“Isn’t saving the world from this plague enough?”
“That would be amazing, yes, but I also don’t want to spend the rest of my life locked up in your zombie jail here.”
“Makes sense, I guess. You want to be free? You want me to let you go?”
“Yes, of course. That’s exactly what I want. Would you let me go? Otherwise, why else would I help you? You’re keeping me against my will, in a cage, like an animal.”
“It’s because we need you, Jane. You’re one of the few people who has managed to survive the plague by receiving multiple versions of the cure. You’ve got all the right stuff swirling around inside you. For someone like you, your blood may hold the key to our salvation. Work with us so we can make this cure available to the rest of the world.”
I sigh. “I want to, really I do, but I already put my life on the line once to help someone and I got screwed. How do I know you won’t do the same?”
“You don’t know, but you don’t really have a choice.”
“Then why ask?”
“I’m trying to be polite – civilized, even. Since the zombie plague consumed us, we’ve lost a lot of the niceties, things that make us uniquely human. I’m trying to hold on to them.”
I think for a moment before speaking. “I’ll ask you again, what do I get out of this?”
“What do you want?”
“You know what I want… Let me go. Help me reunite with my husband, Jack. And I want everyone to leave us alone. We deserve a normal life.”
“I might be able to make that happen, but only if you voluntarily help us. And before you answer, let me remind you of something. If you couldn’t already tell, you’re stuck here. There’s no way out. You can either help us now, willingly, or we force you to help and then we leave you here, possibly forever.”
As I look at her, tears begin to form. I try to keep it together as I pace around my cage. How can I trust this person? Who knows what kind of experimental procedures they’re going to perform on me or the pain they may unleash on the world?
“Listen, stop driving yourself crazy, Jane.”
I look at her.
“I know Lance. He’s a jerk, that’s for sure. I’m guessing he’s the one who screwed you over, is that right?”
“Yeah. How’d you know?”
“Lucky guess, but I know who he is and how he operates. Lance and I go way back. We have a history together.”
“How do you know him?”
She holds up her stub for an arm.
“He cut off your arm?”
“Yeah.”
“Ouch.”
“I can’t fault him completely. One of those monsters bit my left hand,” she sighs, “so he cut it off before the plague had a chance to spread through my bloodstream and infect the rest of my body.”
“I guess that’s good, but it sounds incredibly painful.”
“You have no idea,” she pauses. “Being bitten is horrible, as you know, but having your arm chopped off… without warning and without drugs or anesthetic, that’s absolute torture. And disinfecting the open wound was agony.”
“So he did something selfless? I find that hard to believe. That doesn’t sound like the Lance I know.”
“It was a no-win situation to me. Leave the arm and I become a zombie. Cut the arm off, prevent the virus from infecting the rest of my body, and I’m deformed for the rest of my life. I was screwed either way. In the end, I thought he made the best decision at the time, but…“
“But it’s more complicated than that.”
“Yeah.”
“Everything is more difficult when you throw Lance into the mix. It sounds like he saved your life, but the Lance I know only does things for his own selfish reasons.”
“I didn’t know that then… and, unfortunately, I lost so much more than my arm when I was with him.”
“He’s a piece of crap, all right – nice and harmless when you first meet ’em, and then he turns toxic.”
“Yeah, but even in all of that evil, there’s still a hint of good in him.”
“And you know that how?”
“Lance and I were dating. Things were getting serious, and he seemed so wonderful. I liked him a lot and I could tell he felt the same about me – or so I thought. That’s when the zombie outbreak hit our town. Instead of evacuating, we stayed put. Looking back, that probably wasn’t the best idea. We boarded up the doors and windows on my first floor apartment as best we could and kept quiet. Most of the time was spent just holding each other, trying to wait it out. In the meantime, we slept in shifts so one of us was awake at all times. A few nights later while Lance was on watch duty, zombies broke in. As soon as I heard the commotion, my eyes popped open. I grabbed my bat and tried to kill as many of them as possible.
“Lance was nowhere
in sight. Unfortunately, one of the zombies who slipped behind me bit me. I panicked. That’s when Lance found me, realized what happened, and chopped off my arm without a second thought. At first, I was in shock. There was no pain. None at all. And then, as if I were in a dream, I watched my arm hit the floor. Blood, my blood, was gushing everywhere. As my brain caught up with the events, excruciating pain surged through every cell of my body. It was the most pain I’d ever felt in my entire life. Exhausted from losing so much blood, I lost consciousness and fell to the floor while Lance put the rest of them down.
“Drifting in and out, I don’t remember much about what happened next. He said we couldn’t go outside since there were more running around. Without access to a hospital, he poured alcohol on my wound to sanitize it and then cauterized it using a cast iron pan he heated up. The pain… Ugh… When I think about it, I can still feel the pain paralyzing me. It’s a feeling that’s burned into my mind forever. Everything happened so fast. I tried to hold on as best I could, but I passed out. A person can only withstand so much trauma. Between what I remember and what Lance told me, that’s what happened. That’s how I lost my arm.”
“And? What happened next?”
“A few days after, as I was recovering, I noticed one of the boarded up windows was no longer boarded up. If zombies had broken into the apartment, the wooden boards would have been busted and splintered, but they were still in one piece. The nails would have been embedded in the boards, but they weren’t. The nails were separate from the boards. It’s like someone had meticulously removed them.
“Looking at the evidence right in front of me on the floor, all that was running through my mind was, ‘That turncoat!’ I was beyond furious. That same night I confronted him. At first he pretended not to know anything, but then he confessed that the company people I worked for hired him to take care of me. They noticed I was borrowing some work files and they didn’t like it. If I didn’t change my ways and go off the grid, he said, something worse was going to happen to me… by accident.”