Whimper (27 page)

Elliott grabbed his injection and supplies from the office, another room I’d be avoiding if this all went wrong, while I dragged the thing into the locker room to get it set up with ice. I poked a hole in the bottom, positioned it over the drain in the floor—I wasn’t going to risk him drowning in the damn thing once the ice started melting—and started filling that mess up with buckets of ice.

“God, this seems like a bad fraternity hazing, not a medical treatment,” I protested as Elliott came in with his injections.

“It isn’t pleasant, but it helps,” he said and shrugged. “Once I take this, it’s going to hit me pretty fast and hard. I’ll probably need to be in there when I do it rather than trying to make it in.” He paused, looking uncomfortable. “You know this isn’t going to fix me, right? I’m only delaying the inevitable. I don’t have the cure yet, I might never have one. This is merely slowing the virus down a little.”

I couldn’t breathe for a second, tried to choke past the emotion so I could talk. “Are you saying you’d rather give up?” I managed.

“No!” Elliott rushed over to give me a hug, maybe the last hug. “I don’t want you to have unrealistic expectations, that’s all.”

“You’re trying to prepare me for when you’re gone too,” I said, hearing how numb and hollow my voice sounded, like my head was in a Styrofoam box too.

“Yeah, I am,” he said gently. “It could happen. I’m going to fight like hell for more time, but it could happen. I hope you and Bri can make it through this. I hope the whole fucking country can make it through this, but it’s looking ugly right now. I’m so sorry for bringing this all on you.”

We stood quietly for a few minutes, tangled together, each lost in our own guilt.

“You’ll remember the injection, if it looks like I’m not coming out of this? You’ll make sure I don’t turn, right?” he asked so softly I could barely hear him.

Yes, I remembered. No I couldn’t do it. Not now. I’d find another way, get that serum from the house, give him a blood transfusion, something. Anything but that. That wasn’t what he needed to hear though, so I simply nodded and squeezed him tighter.

“You aren’t showing any symptoms at all. You’re going to be fine, you’re a freaking miracle. Be careful who you tell. Don’t let them use you. In the wrong hands, you could get hurt…” He trailed off, and I could feel he was starting to talk himself out of doing this treatment.

“Get in the tub,” I ordered brusquely, pushing away from him. “You’re wasting time. I’ll be fine. I’ll figure something out. We need time, so get in there and buy us some.”

I winced as I forced myself into the ice fully clothed. The clothes would cut down on the frostbite a little, but it still hurt. I clenched the syringe in my hand, baring the needle. God, I don’t want to do this. It hurts more every time. Gritting my teeth, and bit the needle through my flesh and into my vein, forcing the fluid to join my bloodstream. I dropped the syringe the second the last drop entered my body, unable to force my hands to cooperate. The spasm hit me immediately, bands of red hot steel clamping over all of my muscles, tearing them from my bones. I felt the pulse of my blood, waves of fire racing through me.

Zoe hovered over me with an ice bucket, her face smudged with tears. “I can’t die. I can’t die yet,” I repeated, even though dying sounded like a blissful release. Not yet. The flames burned through me, wiping away my ability to feel anything but pain before everything went black.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, but I let them drip. I hadn’t realized Elliott would be in so much agony after this injection. Now that the convulsions had stopped, the grimace was relaxing from his face and he was breathing again. I needed to do something, but I couldn’t seem to tear myself away from Elliott’s side. What if he stopped breathing and I wasn’t here to help? What if he woke up in pain? He didn’t even have any of his meds left here.

I needed to do something to help, to get myself through the wait. I grabbed Zack’s bag and went through it to see what he had left. Besides the grenades and handguns, it was all basic survival gear. I forced myself to choke down an energy bar and a bottle of water. A desperate plan was forming in my brain and I’d need all the energy I could get.

Inside Elliott’s bag, I discovered notes I had no hope of understanding and the item I’d been looking for, Amie’s cell phone. I pulled out my computer and found the cords and thumb drive I wanted. I didn’t want to risk connecting to the network, but I wanted to pull every piece of data off that damn thing. There had to be something on it we could use. I’d failed to hack in, but this little device had open access, or did up until a few hours ago.

I packed Elliott’s bag with everything I might need during the short trek from the bar back to the house. Brianna would help me get meds set up for him, and help me decide how to get any information and supplies to the group in the tunnels. Brianna would know what to do to help Elliott. I needed to get back to the house, and then back here as quickly as possible.

The cooler was still quiet, and Elliott was motionless in the locker room. Gritting my teeth, my hands trembled as I locked him inside. “Oh my God,” I breathed out slowly.

I slipped into the front of the bar, hiding myself from the windows as much as I could. I peered through the wooden shutters on the windows, searching for any danger. In the bright daylight, the half-naked, bloodied corpses were far more obvious. I could see six of them from my window. How many more were there? I struggled to keep my energy bar down. I didn’t want to go out there. I didn’t want to see those bodies in the daylight. But, I couldn’t hide here and fail Elliott.

With a deep breath, I forced myself to unlock the plate glass front door and slip outside. I struggled to get my key into the lock, finally managing to secure the door. The sunlight streamed past the front awning, making me squint even though I’d thought to grab a ball cap when I changed my clothes. The rain had brought the temperature and ungodly humidity down enough that there was actually a chill in the air.

I looked around, spotting the bench where I’d first seen Elliott only days ago. The street was a wasteland now. Broken windows and doors, bodies littering the roadway. Was anyone still alive? Would I ever see my friends and coworkers again?

Spurred by my anger, I forced myself into a jog. I needed to get home. I skirted a bloated corpse, flies buzzing around its gaping mouth and bloody nose. I refused to focus on the face. If I knew him, I didn’t want to recognize him like this. “Keep moving. Keep moving,” I panted, trying not to breathe too deeply.

My guts clenched and heaved, but I kept moving, stumbling my way to freedom. I skirted across the street, plunging my way towards the yards and my habitual path home.

As I reached the sidewalk and the path through a small wooded park, a gurgling snarl caught my attention. I whipped my gun from my waistband, searching for the source of the noise. A single figure moved from behind an abandoned car, his dark blue pants hanging in filthy shreds. A once white t-shirt was stained with dried blood and muck, his throat a ravaged mess of meat and gore. He was moving awkwardly, barely human, barely alive, but I knew him. “Josh,” I croaked. We’d been so certain the other officers would come for him, would take him to safety. His features were twisted with rage, not the friendly smile that should have been there.

“No. If you’re in there, don’t make me do this. Please, stop,” I pleaded. My voice was barely a whisper. It didn’t really matter if he heard me. He was beyond listening.

He barked out a hoarse, strangled squeal and charged at me, torn hands reaching for me. My hands reacted instinctively, pulling the trigger tightly. My wrists rocked, absorbing the impact as the firearm bucked. The silencer muffled the sound of the shot just enough that it sounded like someone striking a metal trashcan with a wood baseball bat. Josh jerked sideways, my bullet catching him in the right shoulder. “Oh God,” I gasped. I’d forgotten to compensate for the suppressor. I squeezed off a second and third shot, gasping for air. “You’re not Josh anymore!” I wheezed as I saw part of his face explode into red mist.

I turned from the horror, my fist white knuckled around my gun’s grip as I ran headlong through the park. The sound of my shots hadn’t gone unnoticed. I could hear guttural groans and shrieks all around me. In the distance, I saw the towers of my house. The scratch on my back burned, I felt it pulling as I raced along. Heavy footsteps pounded behind me, growing steadily closer.

I had to do something to get away or they would be on top of me in moments. I refused to die in my own back yard. I threw myself sideways off the path, deliberately picking the roughest section of terrain where tree roots and broken limestone pavers stuck up. Weaving and leaping over the obstacles, I started gaining ground. I knew this area like the back of my hand, but I could also think. The sad, sick bastards behind me had lost that ability.

I made it into our garden and started screaming for Brianna. It wasn’t until I made it here that I realized, she wouldn’t be watching. We were supposed to be back hours and hours ago. What if she’d fallen asleep? What if she was listening for the car, but didn’t hear me?

I couldn’t risk slowing down to look behind me or I might lose whatever lead I had. A loud metallic bang came from the porch, but it took a moment for me to realize the stairs really were descending. I choked on a sob of relief as I poured all of my energy into making it to that porch.

Brianna appeared at the front door, the double barrel of a shotgun pointed right at me. Out of instinct, I flinched and jerked to the side, but a noise from behind me kept me surging forward. She could shoot me, I wouldn’t even mind as long as I made it home and away from the beasts behind me.

I threw my bag onto the porch, followed by my handgun. Cold sweat pimpled my flesh the instant it left my grasp, but there was no way I could pull myself up the side of the slowly unfolding stairs without both hands.

My eardrums screamed as Brianna fired two roaring blasts near my head, then dropped the shotgun on the porch to help pull me up the rest of the way. The moment my torso hit the wooden floor boards, we both scrambled towards the door, gathering our weapons as we fled.

Two of the infected were on the stairs even as we slammed the door shut and mashed the security grill into place. I hit the button to roll the stairs back up, and stood watching with sick fascination as one of the two got caught in the metal wrought iron steps, slowly being smashed like a beetle under a boot.

The other made it onto the porch, but with all the windows and doors shielded, she had nowhere to go. She screamed and threw herself at the door and the walls as Brianna jumped back and shrieked. I didn’t even flinch. A cold numbness had seeped inside me, even though I’d made it home. I should feel safe, but all I felt was…nothing.

Slowly, I let go of my bag and sank to the floor in the foyer staring up at the tin tile ceiling. I let the pounding of my heart drown out the woman’s enraged screams. Breathe. Just breathe.

Gradually, I realized Brianna was hovering over me while she cried softly. I forced myself to look at her, make eye contact with her.

“Are…are they dead?” she asked shakily. “They’re dead, aren’t they? That’s why they didn’t come back with you.” She started crying harder, not even waiting for me to answer. “Who
isn’t
dead?” I wanted to scream. I wanted to rage at her, because she’d stayed safe inside and had no idea what I’d seen, what I’d
done
. She didn’t know and I only wanted to forget.

My lips felt stiff and dry, they cracked as I forced them to form words. “I just killed Josh. It wasn’t him anymore, but I shot him. Now he’ll never be Josh again.” The words turned into a weird, animal wail as the tears started again.

Brianna looked absolutely terrified. With wide eyes, she snatched up the shotgun and backed out of the room. I stared back up at the tin ceiling, letting my mind drift away from everything I didn’t want to think about.

I managed to narrow the world down to the thud of my own heartbeat and the whoosh of my own breathing, in and out, in and out, when Brianna stormed back into my space. She covered me up with the soft quilt I kept on my bed in the winter, and shoved a pillow under my head.