“Babe,” said Charlie. “Does this really have to do with pregnancy? Do you think this is limited to the pregnant ones?”
Hemp shook his head and stared down at
Blue Eyes
. “I’m going to do an ultrasound on Red Dress,” he said. “If she’s pregnant, the answer is still only a maybe.”
“Why?” asked Lisa.
“Because,” said Hemp, “
while a woman is pregnant, her body generates more estrogen in a day than she ordinarily would in three years.
During the entire period of a woman’s pregnancy, she’ll generate more estrogen than in the entire remainder of her non-pregnant life.”
“No wonder we get fuckin’ cranky,” said Charlie.
“Lisa,” said Hemp. “It’s my guess you don’t want to remain in her
e
any longer than necessary, so I’d like to attempt to draw some of the vapor in your eyes for testing.”
Lisa’s face dropped. “Is it vapor, Hemp? Are you sure?”
“Hold on,” said Hemp.
Charlie watched as he removed a device from the shelf and pressed a button. A bright light shone from it.
“What is that?” she asked.
“An ophthalmoscope. I don’t have a sit lamp, so this will have to do.” He pulled on a pair of nitrile gloves, then walked to Lisa. “Relax, and turn your face up a bit, Lisa.”
She did, looking at the ceiling. Hemp rested his left palm gently against her nose and cheek and held the device up to within a quarter inch of her eye. He pushed the button and peered through the lens on the back side.
“Hmm. Yes, it’s vapor, but only very slight.”
He released the button and lowered his hands. “In fact, it looks lighter than last night. If I don’t get a sample now, I might not have another opportunity.”
“Is it going away?” asked Lisa.
Charlie said a quick, rare silent prayer that her husband would answer in the affirmative.
“I believe so. I’m going to ask that you be very still, Lisa.”
Hemp opened a drawer and withdrew a small syringe.
“You giving me a shot?” asked Lisa, horrified.
“Are you scared of shots?” asked Charlie.
“Since I was two,” she said.
“No shot,” said Hemp. “I’m just going to draw some vapor into the syringe. But I’m going to be very close to your eye, so you’ll need to be very still.”
“Sit here,” said Charlie. “In this chair.”
Lisa went to the captain’s chair that had been spun around
to face the rear and sat
. Hemp knelt beside her. “Charlie, hold this ophthalmoscope and push the button activating the light. I’ll draw it.”
The procedure went smoothly. Hemp put the syringe on the table. “Okay, Lisa. Charlie will wa
lk you back into the house, and –”
“Hemp, her eyes!” blurted Charlie.
Lisa’s eyes had rolled back in her skull. Just he reddish whites showed, an eerie vision that reminded Charlie of her fear when she first realized what kind of plague had befallen the earth.
Lisa began to walk. Her arms by her sides, limp, she approached the enclosure where Red Dress sat.
“Lisa!” said Charlie, but Hemp put an arm on her shoulder and pulled her back.
“Wait,” said Hemp. “She appears to be
in some kind of trance. Don’t worry. It can’t get to her.”
Charlie didn’t realize she was holding her breath as Lisa, unable to see, but somehow seeing Red Dress anyway, continued her slow walk to the cage. As she reached the acrylic barrier, she stopped.
Red Dress turned her semi-ravaged face upward to look at Lisa. The zombie pulled her legs toward her body, bending her knees. Leaning her body forward, she stood without using her hands to support her as she did so.
“That requires strength that can only indicate regenerating muscle,” said Hemp. “Not good.”
“Shh,” said Charlie, watching the scene unfold before her. Red Dress took two steps toward the wall of the enclosure and stood face-to-face with Lisa. Charlie walked and stood beside Lisa, looking at her face, doing her best not to look at the creature within
the enclosure
.
They remained that way for almost a minute.
What happened next made Charlie cry, and while she felt she understood the emotion that swept over her, it was something she would perhaps only share with Hemp. It was somehow too personal.
Lisa’s body jerked suddenly, almost imperceptibly. She turned, her irises still not visible
within her eye sockets. Dave Gammon’s younger sister took three steps toward the autopsy table where
Blue Eyes
lay, and she stood facing the
prone creature
for another full minute, at least.
Charlie couldn’t speak. She couldn’t think. Something far beyond anything she had ever experienced – or expected to experience – was happening, and while deep inside, she wasn’t sure she wanted to be a witness to it, she also knew that she could never look away.
Hemp moved beside her and took her hand, squeezing it in his.
Charlie squeezed back, emotion washing over her. The air in the converted RV suddenly felt thick with an unseen force that could not be described. In the back of her mind, Charlie wondered if the only other living, aware person in the room now could feel it too, but she dared not utter a word.
Whether Lisa was somehow a puppet of the zombie in the red dress, or if she were merely being guided by her, did not seem to matter.
Charlie watched.
So did Hemp.
Lisa bent forward, slowly spreading her arms. She lowered herself down to the creature held to the table with thick straps, and rested the side of her head on the zombie’s
bare
chest. Her arms enfolded the creature,
embracing
her.
Lisa’s eyes closed, and all tension drained from her face. A smile touched her lips, and Charlie felt the most extraordinary feeling of peace in her life.
And when Charlie believed everything that could happen
had
happened; that no other amazing things remained available
to occur
,
another thing happened
that brought her back to reality:
Blue Eyes
closed her eyes and fell very still.
“They’ve never closed their eyes before,” whispered Hemp. “Not that I’ve seen.”
Charlie forced herself to look at Red Dress. She stood in her cage, her arms folded around herself in a hug,
her
eyes closed.
A strange thrumming caused her throat to vibrate. As Charlie watched her, mesmerized, she imagined she could hear it.
It stopped. She looked back at Hemp.
“Did you hear that?”
“No, but I’m not sure what’s happening here.”
Charlie returned her gaze toward Red Dress again. The thrumming happened again. “Look at her, Hemp.”
He did. “Is her throat … vibrating?”
“I’m not going to touch it,” said Charlie.
Charlie
stared
at Red Dress
, then looked at Lisa again
.
Then the sound changed. She turned toward the zombie in the cage again.
“I think –”
She looked back at Lisa
, and saw her mouth moving, but the words, if that’s what they were, were too low to hear.
She rushed to Lisa. Her embrace of the rotter on the table was low enough that she was not at risk of being bitten, and with the WAT-6, Charlie wasn’t even sure that was a risk.
She
lowered her ear to Lisa’s mouth.
In a voice not even loud enough to consider a whisper, she heard Lisa say,
Comfort … Ann.
Charlie jerked upward and staggered away from the table, her friend and the zombie she embraced.
S
uddenly, the feeling of compassion and tenderness that had filled
Charlie for those brief moments
evaporated, to be replaced by utter rage
.
It was a thousand times more powerful than
the
earlier emotions.
“You fucking bitch!”
she screamed
, clenching her fists and raging at Red Dress.
Red Dress
seemed not to notice. The strange vibration continued.
Charlie charged to the cage, fumbling for the doorknob.
“Charlie!” shouted Hemp. “W
hat are you doing?”
Hemp lurched toward her, but Charlie had the knob unlocked and swung the door open, hitting Hemp, blocking his advance. She yanked it shut behind her.
Hemp was regrouping and going for the knob again, but Charlie
reached Red Dress
first
,
clenched her fist and drew
her arm back
, throwing
a solid
p
unch with everything she had; t
he hardest blow she had ever delivered.
It connected with the
female
zombie’s cheekbone, and Charlie felt it shatter under her
knuckles.
She shook her throbbing hand as
Red Dress
toppled
backward and slammed into the wall of her enclosure.
At the suddenness of the attack, Red Dress began to gnash her teeth as though in preparation for a meal of human meat.
Hemp got the door open and grabbed Charlie’s left shoulder, but as he struggled to pull her back toward the door, she
twisted away from him, reaching
down
to unsnap
the drop holster on her thigh. She
yanked
the 9mm out,
felt Hemp advancing on her again, but ignored it and
fired
a hollow-point round
into the creature’s face.
“Charlie, no,
”
pleaded Hemp, too late.
Charlie’s first round had torn through the
right side of the creature’s head
, sending skull fragments splattering against the far wall
.
A large spider crack formed in the acrylic around the spot where the bullet exited the cage. Fluid and gore dripped down the clear wall.
More red than black.
As
the creature’s head
spun
left
from the force of the impact
, Charlie fired again, destroying the other side of her face
, creating a new splatter of body fluid to mix with the first
.
Charlie
whirled
around and
looked at Lisa.
Lisa’s eyes
fluttered
open, and Charlie dropped the gun and
pushed by Hemp
to
get to
her, pulling
the eighteen-year-old
off the zombie she had held seconds before.
Charlie
held
Lisa
against her
and
put her hand on the back of Lisa’s head as she
squeezed
her in her arms. Her warm, living arms
.
She held tight to her, making sure Lisa felt the warmth of her cheek, a desperate attempt to show her the difference between what she had just embraced and the living human that held tight to her now.
Ultimately, Charlie knew it was not only relief
and love
that made her hold Lisa; it was to keep her turned away from the cage, where Red Dress lay destroyed in a puddle of oozing red-black mess.
“What’s – what’s going on?” said Lisa, her eyes swimming back into focus.
“What happened? Did you get the sample?”
“It’s okay, Lisa,” said Charlie
, pulling away to look into her eyes
. “It’s fine. He got it just fine.”
Not two seconds after she asked the question, Lisa’s expression changed, metamorphosing from confusion to horror.
She turned to look at the zombie on the table.
Blue Eyes
stared
at the body on the floor of the cage,
the usual, lifeless expression on her face
now replaced by one of agony, if such an expression could possibly be identified on the face of the living dead.
“Hemp,” Charlie whispered. “Look at her face.”
Hemp stared at her. No words were necessary. Had the creature begun to cry, Charlie wasn’t sure she’d be surprised.
This
was
not
the face of a
idle
zombie
when there was no food source near; t
hat face was more similar to someone with severe brain damage
. The
eyes remain
ed
open, yet no brain activity guide
d
the features.