Authors: Alan Janney
She kissed my shoulder and raised up to stretch her arms over her head. She yawned. “Wrong scene, handsome. Wrong act. Nice try. You’re no valedictorian.”
“But I get to make out with one. Even better.”
“I know I’m not supposed to be scared for you. Or worry. But I am. You’re going to war. You enter the Coliseum to battle with stronger men who fight dirty.”
“Yeah but are they as handsome?”
She gripped my cheeks with her hands. She did not smile. Her fingers held me as if I’d disappear if she released, and her eyes shone like the moon. She was terrified, and afraid to express her fear, and it broke me. “I’m serious, Chase. You’re walking into a den of lions. I don’t know how to say goodbye when I know there’s at least a chance…”
I was ravaged. My heart shattered. I took her hand and kissed it because I couldn’t speak.
“You know?” she said and a tear spilled. “…when I know there’s a chance you won’t come back.”
“Then don’t,” I said. My voice emerged as a painful rasp. “Let’s live in hope. And not think about the…chances.”
“How? I hurt too much.”
I pulled her head close, her mouth onto mine. A kiss, transferring and sharing dreams, fears and tears. Then I said, “I love you. I
will
see you in a few days. And maybe, just maybe when I see you next, the world will be whole again.”
“And if you die?”
“Then I die for you. And you will marry Lee.”
A small peal of laughter escaped within her misery. “Hah. He wishes.”
“He does wish.”
She took a deep shaky breath. “Goodbye Chase. I will see you soon. The world
will
be whole again.”
“You don’t believe it. You’re still crying.”
She wiped her cheeks and chin with the flat of her palms. “Shut up. So are you. I’m trying.”
Samantha’s voice shuddered behind us. “Jeez, I’m crying too. This is the saddest thing ever. I might shoot you both so you’ll never be apart.”
The
Amnesia
cut a tight semi-circle until she pointed westward, her stern now facing the shore. The steward lowered the small dinghy. He and Cory boarded. Samantha and I tossed our backpacks down to Cory and then hopped in.
I reached up and grasped Katie’s hand. “I love you. I’ll come back for you. May flights of angels sing you to sleep. Or whatever.”
She waffled her other hand. “Not quite, but close enough, Romeo.”
“Isaac Anderson himself will pick you and Cory up tomorrow night or the day after in a Coast Guard cutter. You’ll be safe.”
“Be careful. To the world, you’re worth five hundred million dollars. But to me, so much more. You’re a house that I’ve bought but not yet possessed. A robe I’ve not yet put on.”
I grinned at her gleaming eyes. “Is that Shakespeare too?”
“Yes.”
“Is it kinda dirty?”
She kissed my hand and released it. “It is. We need to get married. Pronto.”
“I promise.”
The small engine roared and our little boat fled to the blackness. The dark yacht and the beautiful girl quickly vanished in our wake.
Samantha continued to wipe her eyes. “This is why you don’t get close to people.”
“Keep it together, Gear,” I chuckled. But inside I felt like a great fissure had opened in my stomach. A lump in my throat threatened to choke me.
Cory tried to comment but couldn’t. His face was a mess of tears and his mouth kept tugging down at the corners. He managed to squeak, “Ya’ll crazy,” between sobs.
Our steward hoisted the propellor and we beached near the Aquarium after one last surge. This late the beach was empty. Samantha and I climbed off. I shook Cory’s hand.
“Thanks, brother,” I said.
Cory gripped harder, hauled me close and pounded my back. He wheezed something unintelligible in my hear.
“See you soon. Take care of Katie for me.”
Samantha and I jogged off the beach. She jammed a pistol under each arm into holsters specially designed by Lee. Her fingers kept clenching like she wanted an assault rifle.
We proceeded north on streets parallel to I-710. Compton was ten miles away, deep into Los Angeles, but after living aboard ships the last twenty days we didn’t mind the walk. The earth felt hard and unyielding under my soles. Thanks to our super strange bodies, we could cover the distance in twenty minutes, but we saw no need to hurry. We strolled beside the Los Angeles River and half-empty neighborhoods on the outskirts of Carson. The streets were quiet. Even for one in the morning, the silence struck us as eerie. The recent pounding Los Angeles had endured apparently drained away energy. And hope. And pride.
Pride. That’s part of the void I felt. People at night were usually proud. Proud of their car. Proud of their loud music. Proud of their girlfriend or boyfriend. Proud of their social life. Proud of their youth. Of their income. Of whatever. Nights in Los Angeles were vibrant and electric and unquiet.
Or at least they used to be. Another victim of the Chemist. It’s hard to be proud and terrified at the same time.
Lee texted me.
>> BRO! Ya boy PuckDaddy just told me what you and the Shooter are doing, dude!!
>> I’m still on the George Washington
>> Dating a serious hottie. She’s an ensign!!
>> Kinda dating. She wants me.
>> We have a few prototypes ready for you to test
>> So
>> Don’t die, dude
>> Say Hi to Samantha for me
>> Tell her I’m still single
“I miss sitting at a lunch table with Lee,” I sighed.
“Me too. That little punk grew on me.”
Lee and I texted a few minutes more until Samantha took a deep breath. She let it out in a long whoop, turning in circles, arms spinning wide. “Oh MAN it feels good to be away from her!”
“From Minnie?”
“From Pacific. Yes. Minnie is a name ill-suited for that vicious killer.”
“Vicious killer?!”
“Everything about her grated on me. Bleech.” She shook her entire frame like a dog shaking off snow. “Being around other Infected is the worst.”
“But not me.”
She nodded. “But not you. Like she said, that’s your greatest gift. You have a natural gravity. I
need
to be near you. Pacific is already missing you, going through withdraw symptoms, I bet. When you’re around, everything makes more sense.”
“That’s so weird.”
She shrugged. “But it’s true.” When she shrugged, her hands automatically went to her weapons. A habitual, subconscious reassurance.
“When Carter visited us, he grated against me. You phrased it well. He grated. Did you feel that?”
She cackled and whacked me in the shoulder. “Yes. I wondered if you felt that. He was flexing.”
“He
tried
to grate against me?”
“Yeah, kinda. He controls how much of his power he secretes. I call it flexing. I can’t do it.”
“Can Minnie flex? A couple times I felt her strength and it nearly knocked me over.”
“Yes. Pacific is very precise and disciplined. She unleashed her…let’s call it an aura. She unleashes her aura only occasionally and only to make an impression. God I hate her.”
I laughed, a muffled sound in the city’s oppressive silence. “You’re being a little catty about Minnie.”
“I don’t care. She and I are not compatible. I can be around Carter for weeks before he repels me.”
“How does the aura work?”
“No idea. But think of it like sweat. When someone is sweaty, they have a thick scent. You can smell
and
feel that person. The disease works similarly. Newbies only detect it in their subconscious. Takes a while to develop the sensitivity. You learned more quickly than usual. Sometimes I forget how green you are. You’re still a baby.”
“Shut up.”
“You shut up.”
I said, “Tank’s aura was like a fog.”
“Yeah that kid is rank. Especially when he’s in a state of stress. It’s gotten worse since the football championship, too. That’s how we know he’s so powerful.”
“Do Chosen always tend to obey the powerful?”
“No idea. Chosen are brand new, remember? Infected don’t.”
Our cells vibrated. Puck messaged us both.
>> looking good
>> puck monitoring u from satellite
>> lots going on
>> captain FBI freaked when he found out ur plan
>> so did Carter
>> ROCK -> PUCK <-HARDPLACE
>> captain Travis facing court martial mb 4 losing u
>> tank still missing
>> chemist emailed u back
>> says u didn’t reply fast enough 2 save Andy
>> probably a lie
>> ur 2 SEAL bodyguards request permission 2 rejoin
>> hannah walker sighting
>> between korea town and hollywood
>> that whole neighborhood evacuated!
>> ppl scared of her!
>> walter back in l.a. NSA got photo
>> so that sucks
>> blue eye bitch has gov’t calling 4 ur arrest
>> but not official yet
>> okay
>> thats it
>> puck is tired needs nap soon
We scanned through the updates. Samantha replied,
Nice work, PuckDaddy. You kick ass.
>> Yeah i do
I grabbed Samantha’s arm, stopping her. “You feel that?”
“Feel what?”
“There.” I pointed into the darkness beyond a grove of palm trees near the Virginia Country Club. Hairs on my arms and neck stood up and the disease dumped adrenaline into my bloodstream. She stowed her phone and rested a hand on her pistol. I kept staring. “Someone’s over there.”
“How many?”
“Dunno. I hear them. I smell them. I feel them.”
Her pistol came out. She thumbed the hammer back. “Chosen. Let’s check it out.”
“Don’t shoot. I want to talk.”
“Oh hell. Hell and death and ugh,” she growled.
They found us. Two Chosen. They fell on us from the trees. One boy and one girl, a little younger than me. Emaciated. Hungry. Wearing tattered rags. They were both Asian.
I pointed at the ground and growled, “Sit down.”
They howled like I’d scalded them. These two constituted no serious threat. Had I been alone they’d still be unable to muster strength enough to tackle me. Their bodies were new. Relatively weak.
“Disgusting,” Samantha sneered, keeping her gun trained. “Like wild dogs.”
“That’s exactly what they look like,” I agreed. “Wild dogs.” The boy charged. Dirty hair covered his eyes. I threw him back. “Sit down!”
They did.
Samantha said under her breath, “You’re
flexing
. It’s gorgeous.”
“Can you two speak?”
No response. They twisted uncomfortably, head in their hands, not looking at me. He had shoes. She didn’t. She wore diamond stud earrings and a necklace. Their remnants of clothing would have once been fashionable. A lifetime ago in a happier universe, this pair had been trendy, self-possessed, well-kept. Now their hollow stomaches pressed out and sucked in, deep breaths.
“You’re grating on them,” Samantha observed. “Being near you is unbearable. Because of the DNA.”
“Why don’t you two eat?” I asked, shouting like they were deaf. They flinched.
“We eat,” the girl said. Her voice scraped, a sad lonely sound. “Never enough.”
“You still have headaches?”
They both nodded.
I looked at Samantha. Her mouth pressed into a grim line. I spit, “This is his legacy. The Chemist creates and releases the Chosen but doesn’t provide for them. They’re broken. Like scared animals.”
“These two are in worse shape than most,” Samantha agreed in a resigned sigh. “Probably couldn’t function in his hierarchy. So they fled.”
“Have you killed anyone?” I asked them.
No response. Their heads hung lower. The boy tried covering his ears.
Samantha said, “They’re fast. They’re strong. They’re aggressive. And they can’t control themselves. Kinda like you during the Spring of your junior year.”
“How long have you been sick?” No response. “What will you do next?” No response. “Have you fought the police? Or the army?”
The girl started to cry.
“This is horrible.”
Samantha shook her head. “This is
typical
. Most people with the disease look like this before they die. Remember. The fatality rate is near a hundred percent. The Chemist found a way to lower the rate, but it’s still awful.”
“Do you want to kill me?”
“Yes,” they both said.
“Why? Why do you hate me?”
No response.
I threw up my hands. They flinched again. “What the heck do we do with them?”
BOOM BOOM.
Two gun blasts. So loud and sudden and bright I jumped. The boy and the girl both jerked backwards, head first. They slumped into a pile and moved no more. A chorus of dogs began howling, startled and angered by the sudden crash.
“Samantha!” I cried. “NO!” I snatched her pistol and crushed it in my fist. The warm metal bent and warped and melted. I dropped it at her feet. She calmly arched a brow and prodded the ruined weapon with her boot. “What the heck!”
“Chase,” she said quietly. “Perhaps you’ve forgotten what I did for a living before you showed up.”
“You just murdered two innocent people! They weren’t attacking you.”
“Odd use of the word innocent, especially since they admitted to fighting the police and killing people.”
“Yeah, but they’re sick, Samantha.”
“Wrong, Outlaw. They’re
very
sick. And they would die soon anyway. And most likely hurt a lot more people before they did.”
“They need to be incarcerated. They need treatment.”
“There is no
treatment
.” She spat the word. “Grow up, Chase.”
“What about you?”
She blinked, thrown for a loop. “Huh?”
“What about you? You just executed two individuals.”
“So?”
“So violence damages us too. It hurts them. And it hurts us. Executioners used to get drunk so they could perform their duty. It harms our soul.”
She crossed her arms and gave me a sideways glance. “Where’s this coming from? My soul is long gone.”
“No. It’s not. I saw it come alive on the boat, in the wind, on top of waves. Your soul is important.”
“You gonna become a vegan, too? Perhaps you need to get off your high horse, princess. I saw you behead someone on the gas tower. De-cap-i-tate.”