INFECtIOUS (34 page)

Raising
The
Dead

Matt had been
holding my hand, despite our heated debate, but now he drops it. He whispers
quietly, his tone full of the danger of our situation, "You have to follow
me through. If we turn around now, they'll think we have something worth
stealing. You have a mask, it will keep you safe. Walk now."

He starts
forward towards them but I stand frozen like Lot's wife, turned to a pillar of
salt for disobeying God. I shouldn't have come. Is this my punishment?
 
Matt said he's never seen them on this road.
Was he lying? I am so stupid! These zombies will either take me to Pravda or
tear me apart because of my own foolishness. I ignored wisdom and now I'll pay
for it. Matt, several yards away now, hisses over his shoulder at me,
"Now, Ivy!"

I take a halting
step, then another—lifting my legs like the Tin Man right after a long season
of petrified rust. I can't think of another option. I have to make it back
home. It took longer to walk back than I thought and it's almost dark out. I've
probably already been missed. I pray for safety and beg silently for
forgiveness as I try to find my courage. Matt is getting farther ahead of me
forcing me to hurry towards the swarming horde. I'm so scared I am trembling
all over as I lunge awkwardly towards Matt. Moving forward is my only option,
and I know I can't walk through this crowd of zombies without him.

They don't seem
to notice us as we are absorbed by the crowd. Once surrounded, the smell is
nauseating. I'm afraid I'll puke. They reek of body odor and infection and
poop. It's the most disgusting
trifecta
of smells
I've ever encountered. They are all talking at the same time, shouting to each
other and to no one. I've walked into an angry mob of infected, psychotic mental
cases.
In the dark.
It's literally like being in hell.
This is my hell.

I keep losing
sight of Matt. My panic is overwhelming. I can't breathe! The gasping breaths
I'm taking bring me more of the foul stench and make me retch. I will myself
not to throw up inside my mask. In my head I'm screaming Matt's name and I
clamp my teeth on my lower lip to keep the scream inside. I catch glimpses of
his unmasked head as he moves steadily ahead of me. What is his problem! What
if I fall behind? Would he even turn around and notice?

One of the
zombies turns around and screams in my direction. I freeze and bite through my
lip. I taste blood in my mouth as I peer through the eye holes of my
mask—looking my death in the face. Death wears the plastic mask of a green
bogey-monster. The masked goblin suddenly lunges towards me and I close my eyes
waiting for the attack. Shouts are going up all around me. I'm knocked roughly
to the pavement. When seconds go by and I'm not assaulted, I open my eyes. A
fight is going on just to the left of me. The goblin is clawing and thrashing
with two other masked monsters. Matt lifts me by my coat and pulls me through
the rest of the crowd. I start to pick out and understand some of what they are
shouting. This is a gang with a purpose.

Their purpose is
our destruction.

They are talking
about what they'll do when the fence goes down. How they'll kill, what they'll
do to people before they kill them, how long it's been since they've had
healthy meat.

We break through
on the other side and Matt slows our pace, trying to look unhurried and
nonchalant. My feet can't stop hurrying but I keep his slow pace so it feels
like I'm running in place. When we put enough distance between us and them,
Matt pulls me into the brush and leads me towards the little house. I pull my
hand away from him and sit down defiantly in the dead foliage. I'm not taking
another step until my questions are answered. I won't go any further with him
until I know the truth.

"Are they
planning an attack?" I ask shrilly, still fighting hyperventilating. He
turns and sees me sitting. I'm certain of what I heard, but I'd still love for
him to tell me I'm wrong. Tell me this is normal and they always hang out in
droves near our fence, armed to the teeth, talking about murder.

His shoulders
fall slightly, like he's surrendering information he had hoped not to
give.
 
"Yes, I think they are."

I put my head
between my knees and tears begin to wet the scratchy mask against my warm
cheeks. I struggle to speak. I need more answers this time. I won't put up with
vague anymore.

Matt volunteers
the answers in my silence, "It's one of the reasons I brought you out
tonight, but I didn't think we'd run into them. I've never seen them on this
side of the fence before, I swear. I just wanted to show you it's safe out here
and that I can take care of you. I've been hearing a lot of rumors when I'm at
the compounds. I am pretty sure Pravda is riling them up on purpose. Now you've
seen for yourself why I have to get you and Tom out as soon as possible. They
aren't normally this well armed, Ivy. I think Pravda is turning the mob into an
army. From what I can gather, they are after something you have in there."

He squats down
in front of me and gently lifts my chin with his gloved hand. I try to resist
but he says my name softly, "Ivy?" and looks into my eyes again. I
must get better at resisting this tactic. His face is so close to mine in the
last glow of twilight. The husky way he says, "I need you to want to come
with me," makes me sure that I will go with him. "Will you help me
get Tom out when the time comes?" he asks. He begs me with rare
transparency in his eyes, their vivid green tint still flashing in the last
light of day. My face is hidden behind the ski mask giving him no way to read
what I'm thinking.

"I'm not
sure I should."

"Ugh!"
He stands up and takes a step away from me. "Ivy, why are you so stubborn?
That mob we just saw was a small part of a large group intent on raping and
eating you and your friends. How can you still think you are safe in there? You
will die if you stay!"

"I
won't," I look down at my feet and finish, "because I'm the thing
they are looking for."

Matt looks
impatient and irritated, turning to and fro in the small cleft of space between
the blackberry bushes we're sheltered in. "Is this about what happened in
Commerce? That was just some drug addict, Ivy. There's no conspiracy to capture
you. Something bigger is happening here. I've known Pravda a long time and I've
never seen them this desperate. Your people must be hiding something
important."

I feel belittled
and embarrassed. I know what I know, but I don't care if he believes me. I've
seen what I needed to see tonight. I have to warn everyone. The missionaries
were right. We have to leave as soon as possible. I don't have time to tell him
about Chuck and his deal with Pravda. He might not even believe me if I did. I
stand up. I have to get back home. He doesn't say anything, just turns to lead
the way back to the house.

We are almost
through the dense brush around the yard of the old house when I hear a scream.
Matt waves violently at me conveying a clear
message,
"get down and be quiet." I crouch in obedience. Matt creeps through
the overgrown thicket moving out of my sight. I hear more cries and muffled
screams. The fear and familiarity in the girl's voice sends a chill through my
pounding heart. I fall backwards at the loud bang of a gunshot.

Someone shot
him!

Matt could be
dead! I'm out here alone! How will I get back to the tunnel? Maybe it's
Pravda—maybe they've already found the tunnel!

When
Matt's familiar voice calls me out of hiding a minute later, my eyes flood with
tears of relief.
I run through the rest of the thorny branches, scraping my neck,
and come out on the shaggy lawn. Matt is near the house crouched over two
bodies. I run to him, relieved, but still worried that he could be hurt. I stop
a few feet away as the shocking sight of Harmony, covered in blood, fills my
view. How can she be here? What happened to her!

I hear myself
drawing in ragged uneven breaths. My body is lead and I stand gaping as Matt
lifts her gently and listens for breath. He holds her neck and searches for her
pulse. He looks up at me with eyes that beg for my forgiveness.

She is dead!

Her eyes stare
lifelessly into the darkening sky. Her full lips hang open from her last
scream. Her arms hang limply from her tiny frame. Her shirt is soaked with
blood around the dark red hole that is torn through her chest. The cross
necklace I gave her hangs near the horrible wound.

Best friends.

Matt has blood
on his hands and arms, but it's Harmony's blood not his own. A small gun from
Matt's pile in the basement
lays
next to him in the
grass. Matt was the one doing the shooting, he had brought a gun with him on
our "date".

That's when I
lose it.

"You killed
her!" I scream, oblivious of the dangerous zombies who are still too close
by. "Why is she here?" Horror and panic are pulling me over the edge
of reason.

"It was
her.
In the tunnel.
Not a rat. She must have followed
us," he says with too little emotion.

It wasn't rats
we heard in the tunnel? It was Harmony? She must have seen me with Matt and
followed me. And then somehow this zombie found her. Maybe she had gone through
the brush to the road looking for me and was spotted. I have led her to her
death! This is my fault.
And Matt's.
I look at him
with terror and hate in my eyes. I want to die too. I can't live with Harmony
dead because of me. Ever since meeting Matt the people I love are dying. There
might not be much sanity in that connection but it feels like truth.

"Ivy, I'm
so sorry. I couldn't see well enough. He was hurting her so I shot him; but the
bullet went through and hit her! I was trying to save her," his voice is
pleading, "please believe me!"

I pull the
stifling mask off my face and cold air hits my fevered cheeks.

And then the
world changes again.

As suddenly as
the hate and panic took hold, a new feeling comes. It's not of me. My whole
being is suddenly full with Him. It's surreal, indescribable. The anger and
fear vanishes as I feel Him fill me up and I know the Peace that passes
understanding. My legs crumple under me and I fall to my knees in
reverence
to His unseen presence. His Spirit alive in me, I
know what I need to do.

I crawl forward
to my lifeless best friend. God wants to heal her. I know it with every fiber
of my being, with every piece of my soul. He is calling me to pray for her and
the urge is so strong I don't question myself. It's not my idea, it's His. I
wrap my arms around her and lay across her bloody form.

"God!
Please!" I
call out. I don't have an eloquent prayer and I know an eloquent prayer has no
place here. The Spirit in me is praying
,
it's not even
my words.

Matt tugs on me,
asking me to forgive him and whispering that she's gone. I hear him saying we
have to go, but he sounds so far away. I ignore him and wrap myself tighter
around Harmony.

"God!"
I cry louder.
"Please!" I beg Him.

But it's really
His Spirit begging Himself through me. This prayer is so different from the
selfish prayer of fear and need that I prayed over Aunty just two days ago. I
had been desperate for God to heal her. I didn't want to live without her. I
was afraid to be alone. The prayer was for me. I know God didn't mind my selfish
prayer,
it wasn't why He answered "No." I
know His heart broke for me and He held me in His arms when he took my Aunty.
He didn't want to break my heart, but Aunty was meant to go home. This prayer
for Harmony, so full of God's peace, is different. I know for certain that He
wants to restore Harmony and I wait patiently for His power to come. It has
nothing to do with me or my words. It just IS.

Harmony moves in
my arms and I look down at her face. My prayer of faith answered, tears spill
down my cheeks onto hers and she blinks and looks up at me. A scream leaves her
lips and I cover her mouth. I hold her close and whisper words of comfort. When
I look to Matt for help getting her up, he is several feet away—sitting on the
ground leaning away from us in fear and awe. When I see his face, I realize
fully the
amazingness
of what just happened and how
truly different he and I are. I want to help him understand. Maybe now that
he's seen, he will change. I suddenly remember that we aren't safe in the open.
We need to get back in the tunnel.