by M. L. Giles
Colton wore an expression of concern, one so strong not even a mask would be able to hide it. “All right… I’ll get these papers to the doc. Will let you know the results after. You’ve earned it.”
There was nothing more I wanted to say. As I walked off, I swear I heard Colton whisper my name.
Sleep didn’t come easily to me that night, despite being both physically and mentally exhausted. All I could think about was how utterly fooled I’d been by a beautiful face and angelic voice. That initial image of Aiden I had in my mind melted away when I replayed the moment he threw that Molotov cocktail, revealing an ugly, disturbing individual – one that turned my stomach.
Maybe it’s because I don’t get it. Just because most of humanity goes to shit, along with the rule of law and order vanishing overnight, that doesn’t seem like a good enough reason for the ones left behind to turn on each other and act the way they do.
If anything, I would’ve expected such a disaster to bring all of us, the survivors, together. Even an anti-social prick like me, with all my hang-ups on playing nice with others, was prepared to be a team player!
That wasn’t what happened, though. Instead we have cults, bandits, and the odd crazy person now… Surely it isn’t normal for human beings to watch a man get set on fire, then cheer for the guy who did the deed?!
Saying that, what is normal anymore?
Through the never-ending barrage of disturbing visuals from earlier, a voice echoed in the back of my mind.
“You’ll never change, will you?”
It was Gloria’s voice, accompanied by the smiling face she had the night before she died.
“…No,” I thought. “I don’t want to let that flame-obsessed dick change me. Thanks, sis.”
With my Sister’s face in mind, I was finally calm enough to fall asleep.
The clicking sound of my door opening woke me up. I took a guess it was Wendy, disturbing me for one stupid reason or another.
I slowly turned over in bed to face the door, talking as I did so. “You know, Dee, I don’t barge in on you and your boyfriend. Maybe— Oh.”
“Mornin’, Gray.” Colton was standing next to my bed, wearing a tight-fitting, bright pink shirt and superhero swimming shorts. He had a plate in one hand, a bottle of water in the other. “You, er… feelin’ any better?”
“Well, I was, until I saw that horrible shirt,” I said while letting my head sink back into the pillow. “You look like a giant mass of candy floss that’s ready for a day out at the beach. Why are you dressed like that?”
Colton seemed to beam with happiness. He looked relieved for some reason. “Ain’t exactly easy to find shirts my size. Wearin’ this ‘till my regular clothes are dry. Hungry?”
There was a familiar scent in the air. One that I hadn’t smelt for so long.
“Is that meat?” I immediately sat up in bed.
“Yeah. Here.” He handed the plate to me, along with a fork and knife. Sitting on it was a slab of red meat, cooked medium-rare and oozing delicious-looking juices. “It’s deer. The huntin’ group caught it this mornin’. Figured you deserved a reward for what you managed to pull off.”
“You have hunting parties?” I asked, still chewing on an orgasmic piece of meat.
“Damn right we do,” he grinned. “Animals weren’t affected by that outbreak. Plenty to hunt, if y’know where to look.”
It felt incredible to eat meat after so long. I might be skilled at being quiet, but a hunter I am not, neither was Wendy and Thomas for that matter. Occasionally, we had come across the odd animal here and there, but we were never able to catch it. This one time, we did manage to catch a rabbit using a snare! None of us could bring ourselves to kill it, though. Stupid thing had these huge, soulful eyes.
It didn’t matter in the long run. We got by with canned products well enough that hunting never became a priority.
Colton placed the bottle of water on the bed next to me before walking off towards the door. “When you’re done, come downstairs to the bar. Got a surprise waitin’ for you.”
After munching on one of the tastiest pieces of meat I’d ever had in my mouth (Colton not included in that statement), and getting dressed in my usual dark tracksuit gear, I made my way downstairs to the lobby.
The large reception area was filled with people, all talking away in groups of varying sizes. I had never seen so many people gathered before – well, after everyone had died off, at least.
Wading through the crowd, I made my way into the bar next to it.
Standing on the wooden dance floor were Colton, Carl, Bethany, Tyrone, and an elderly, gray-haired man I had never seen before.
“There he is! The hero of the hour!” Tyrone cheered when he saw me enter. It was nice to see him happy to see me, considering the way he had slinked away the last time we spoke.
Each one of them turned to face me, all with large smiles on their faces – Carl being the only exception.
“Does that title of ‘Hero’ come with any perks?” I asked as I approached them, merging with their group.
The aged man walked across to me, then leaned down to examine me closely. He was huge. Not quite as big or muscular as Colton but very close. He even wore similar camouflaged gear that I’d expect Colton to be wearing, only in blue this time.
“Aha, this must be Grayson,” he muttered while stroking the point of his white goatee. “Skinnier than I expected.”
“Nice to meet you too, strange elderly person,” I greeted him.
Colton stepped between us to do introductions. “Yeah, this is him. Gray, this is my old man, Evan.”
The muscular builds, army clothes, strong faces, voices that sounded like they had been dragged through six feet of dirt, and, of course, the infamous butt-chins… I could see the family resemblance now. The only difference was Evans’ receding white hair had been crew cut, whereas Colton was more of a cue ball.
“My son has told me much about you,” Evan said with a hand extended. I took it and shook his hand. “How about the next time you two decide to go at it like fucking rabbits, you keep the noise down. I’m right next door.”
It’s rare that I am blindsided by such crude comments but, I admit, that one took me completely by surprise. I was left utterly speechless! Not to mention my face went redder than a baboon’s backside after a spanking.
“Dad!” Colton looked away, holding his hand up to his head in equal amounts of embarrassment as me.
The others had a good giggle at our expense too, even the ever-moody Carl.
Evan broke the handshake, then went to sit on a stool by the bar. “Don’t you ‘Daaaaad!’ me, you little shit. You’re the one that woke me up!”
Colton grabbed my arm and pulled me towards a corner of the room, away from the giggling group.
“Sorry ‘bout that, Gray. My old man’s a bit forward sometimes,” he said.
“REALLY?! I hadn’t noticed,” I mocked. Just then, I noticed Colton was wearing different clothes. He now wore a blue, slightly-damp shirt with a black and white hawk on the front, and black jeans that looked a few sizes too small for him. “What happened to the beach-ready look you were… ‘rocking’ earlier?”
“You didn’t like it.” He looked off to the side in embarrassment. Poor guy even started adjusting his wet shirt.
I looked down from Colton’s face to playfully check out his robust muscles that pushed against his wet, clinging shirt. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to impress me.”
The red face from his father’s earlier comments made a return. He kept looking away, faking a cough.
So obvious… I guess alcohol gave him more confidence when it came to this sort of thing. He did seem more reserved than usual, probably because the others were standing not far from us.
“Guess you’re wonderin’ why I asked you downstairs this mornin’, yeah?” Colton asked, blatantly changing the subject.
“Is it to tell me what this mysteriously ill doctor ha
d to say?”
“Nah,” he shook his head. “Doc needs more time to look over his old notes. I wanted you down ‘cause— well, why don’t I show you instead. Go wait at the bar with the others.”
What Colton said struck me as odd. If the notes I went out of my way for were written by the same doctor reading them now, why were the notes needed? Surely the doctor would’ve remembered his own work?
Something strange was going on here.
Half an hour went by. I passed the time by talking with Tyrone. He apologized for the way he’d acted when I told him about my dodgy past. How could I stay mad at those adorably chubby cheeks and wicked head scarf?
During our chat, Tyrone confessed that he’d thought I was flirting with him earlier when I mentioned that he was nicer to talk to than Colton. My only response was a sly wink.
Colton had gone to the lobby next door. He seemed to be herding everyone into the bar with us.
The place filled up slowly. As I looked at all the people entering the room, a realization washed over me: Colton led these people, all of them. I’d been responsible – or felt responsible, at least – for only two people! Even that had felt like such a burden on me. Being responsible for this many people must be one hell of a weight on his oversized shoulders.
Once everyone was in place, Colton joined us all. He pulled himself up onto the bar and sat on it, facing the entire room. With one loud whistle he silenced everyone, grabbing their attention at the same time.
I stood next to the bar with Evan and Tyrone, watching on.
“Thanks for gatherin’ today on such short notice,” he began, speaking loud enough for those at the back to hear. “I know we usually only meet once a week, but I got some important info for everyone. Last night, we managed to get our hands on some important papers; papers that could tell us why we lost so many folk a year ago.”
Everyone cheered, some even hugged. For these people it meant closure. It meant knowing why their families died. And, truth be told, I felt the same way. I wanted to know why my sister was taken away from me.
Colton waved his arms a little, signalling for silence. “All this was ‘cause of one person. Someone who could sneak into that St Michael’s hospital an’ get those papers all by himself.” Colton looked over at me. “Take a bow, Gray.”
The audience turned to look at me. It was one of the most uncomfortable situations I had ever been placed in. Instead of taking a bow, I raised my hand to give a small wave, smiling awkwardly for the crowd of people clapping at me.
“His name’s Grayson Ryder,” Colton spoke louder to compensate for the clapping, “an’ I’d say he’s more than earned his place here.”
“Hear, hear!” someone shouted.
“Welcome!” another voice roared.
“Stop looking at me!” was what I wanted to yell back at them.
When everyone was done with me, they focused back on Colton.
“Today’s news ain’t all good, though. Grayson informed me of an event that happened while he was at St Michael’s hospital.” My blood ran cold. “Seems our ol’ friend Aiden is gettin’ worse. I’ve told everyone before to be careful of folk wearin’ yellow an’ orange with shaved heads, now I’m warnin’ you again: avoid Aiden’s people.”
“What do you mean by ‘worse’?” a lady near the front asked.
Colton rubbed the back of his neck, glancing over at me for a split second. He was unsure about telling them all the dark facts.
“It’s hard to say right now…” he answered eventually. “For now, we—ˮ
A youthful man, wearing a dirty medical coat, entered the bar from the lobby and rushed up to Colton, interrupting his speech. Colton leaned down towards the man, who then whispered something into his ear. After delivering his message, the white-coated man disappeared out of the room, leaving Colton deep in thought.
I wondered if that was the supposedly-ill doctor.
“Carl, take over,” Colton said before jumping off the bar. “Go over the ways of spottin’ one of Aiden’s group, then get everyone back to work.”
Carl nodded and stepped up to where Colton had been, taking over the meeting.
Colton went to pass by us, only to be stopped by his father, Evan, who pulled him into our group.
“Where’s the fire, Colt?” Evan asked.
Colton leaned in, whispering quietly to his father, Tyrone, and me. “Doc’s ready to talk.”
Evan slapped his son on the side of the arm, telling him to go. Colton hurried away from us, leaving the bar.
Quietly, I slipped away from Tyrone and Evan, making my way out in pursuit of Colton. By the time I had caught up to him, he was about to walk up the main staircase of the hotel.
“Colton!” I called out.
He stopped his hasty march and walked towards me instead. “Head back to the others, Gray. I’ll tell you what’s said later.”
“Let me come too. I was the one who risked his butt getting those papers for you, after all.”
“Ain’t that simple.”
“Why not?”
“There’s somethin’ I need to keep secret for now.” Colton paused, thinking carefully about his next choice of words. “Look, I’ll tell you everythin’ afterwards. Promise.”
“Come on! You can’t say something like that and expect me not to be curious. Let me come with you.”
Colton placed his hands on his hips, tilting his head back slightly in thought. “Hmmm. I dunno.”
“Screw it,” I thought. “If this trick works for Wendy, I might as well give it a shot.”
I put my most disappointed of faces on, puppied up the eyes, and prepared to sound cutely upset.
“Oh, okay… I’m sure you have your reasons… It’s just, I really wanted to be there with you when you discovered what it was. But if you want me to go back to the bar, I’ll go wait for you there.” I closed with a sad sigh.
Colton stared at me for a moment. It was clear he didn’t want me to feel let down.
“Fuck… All right,” he conceded. “Come on. But you gotta promise me that you won’t tell no one what you see.”
“Seriously?! It’s that easy?!” I thought. “No wonder Wendy does this all the time to Thomas.”
“Cross my heart and hope to die,” I said with a reassuring smile.
Colton led me upstairs, towards the hotel’s top floor.
“At last, answers,” I thought. “Hope this was all worth it.”
Chapter 10
Solus.
Answers and Arguments.
Colton and I had taken the stairs that led to the very top floor of the hotel, heading for this mysteriously ill doctor. We went down a hallway which clearly hadn’t been intended for use, since the bones of several dead people still lay on the floor, along with broken vases, destroyed paintings, and black blood stains sputtered about.
“Here we are,” Colton said once we reached a door with its room number missing. “The doc’s inside. Remember what I told you on the way up?”
“Stay quiet. Stay still. Let you do all the talking,” I answered.
“Bingo.”
Colton unlocked the padlock on the door, pulled down the handle, and pushed it open for us both to walk in.
Inside was a complete mess. Papers were strewn all over a single bed in the corner of the room. A table and single wooden chair, both with medical supplies spread out all over them, were in the centre of the bedroom. Writings and drawings were scribbled on the walls, even a painting of a picturesque river had been vandalized with illegible ramblings. Worst of all, though, was the smell! Blood, sweat, urine, and chemicals, all strong enough to make me gag.
The entire hotel room looked more like a madman’s infirmary. Which, as it turned out, wasn’t far from the truth.
On our right was a door that led to the bathroom. From it, a withered, old guy, with broken glasses and a white doctors coat on, came running out. He clutched a small syringe tightly in his raised fist, aiming it at us like a dagger.
“Thieves! OUT!” the doctor yelled in a raspy, broken voice. “Get out of my home!”
The two struggled for a few moments before the doctor took a closer look at Colton’s face. It seemed to ease his erratic behaviour.
“There we go, doc… Relax. It’s just me.”
“Yes… Yes. Colton. Yes, of course.” Colton released the doctor’s arm. With the commotion over, I could see that the doctor was wearing nothing under his unbuttoned coat – Au naturel. “Come in, come in. I was just seeing off some shady types. They won’t be breaking in here without a fight! Oh no they won’t!”
As the doctor shuffled away towards the table, I whispered to Colton, “What the hell was that about?”
“Dunno. Beth thinks Hugo could have dementia. I ain’t sure, though,” he whispered back. “Whatever it is, it’s gettin’ worse. Don’t want folk downstairs thinkin’ our only doctor is goin’ sour in the head. That’s why I’m keepin’ him locked in here for now.”
“What can I help you with today, Colton?” Hugo turned to face us, stroking his greasy gray hair back. He leaned the palms of his hands flat against the table to help steady himself, pressing his wrinkly junk up against the table’s edge – a terrifying sight.
“Came here ‘cause of the notes, doc. Your assistant told me you were done with ‘em.”
“My what?” Hugo replied.
“Apprentice? Assistant? Helper?” Hugo looked at Colton, unaware what he was referring to. “The man who brings food up to you.”
“Oh! Him! Bloody nuisance that Davidson is. Always looking over my shoulder, asking me questions about one thing or another… What about him?”
“His name’s Darren, an’ he is tryin to learn what he can from you, doc.” Colton let out a frustrated sigh. “Darren told me you’d looked at the notes.”
“What notes?”
“THE notes! Papers! I brought ‘em to you earlier!” Colton spoke slow and loud, like you would with a person hard of hearing. “The ones you said would help you remember what you researched?! Remember?!”