Dahmer Flu (3 page)

“In the bathroom with Jake.” She padded over to the couch and turned on the television, keeping the volume low. The DVD menu flickered on the screen, and then picked up the cartoons where they had left off. Immediately, the child was entranced by the bright colors and animated antics. I smiled, tossed the pilfered page on the table, and crossed to the bathroom door; behind it was the distinctive sound of the medical humidifier. 

I slipped in, quickly closing the door behind me before too much of the steam escaped. There was barely enough room for one person, much less three of us, but Jacob had room on his mother’s lap as he patiently breathed in the steam. He smiled up at me as his mother struggled to keep him still.

“Hey, Jake,” I cooed, patting his bare chest. He smiled with big, happy eyes. “How’s he doing?” I asked Aimee.

“He’s okay now, I guess. He got pretty bad just after you left, like he couldn’t breathe right,” She paused. “I wasn’t watching you for just a moment. I had to get him.” She gestured towards Jake. “I got Madi out there to the door as quick as I could, but I wasn’t there for just a moment.” Her words started to run together. I knew her, and her eyes were seeking forgiveness for her perceived transgression. While it terrified me, that there was any length of time that someone wasn’t standing guard, I didn’t show it.

“Don’t worry about it, honey,” I smiled, “I wasn’t worried out there,” I lied.

I took the phonebook page from the table and sat on the couch next to Madi, and not a moment passed before she shifted next to me, leaning her head on my arm.  I unfolded the map, careful not to block her view of the cartoons- it was wonderful to see Madi being a kid again- and read through the listings while marking locations on the map, looking at size, distance, proximity to main roads and, perhaps superstitiously, that ‘gut feeling’.

The bathroom door opened with a short-lived haze of steam and Aimee emerged with a subdued Jacob. I smiled at, but didn’t mention, the fact that each of their hair had grown limp from the vapor. Aimee propped Jacob next to Madi, who affectionately put her arm around him for support and comfort, then began to hum to herself as she began to prepare breakfast. I watched her briefly, with adoration, as she pulled out the canned milk, powdered eggs and the preciously rare fresh fruit.

Carefully, as our very lives depended on it, I made the choice. The city was larger than I normally preferred, but it was the closest that would be most likely to have what we desperately needed; and it wasn’t as large as Delano, which was the deciding factor.

“Where are we going?” Aimee asked, setting plates for Madi and Jacob at the table.

“McFarland.”

The sun was high overhead when we stopped at the outskirts of McFarland. The tires crunched in the dirt and rocks alongside the tree grove that left partially hidden from view.

I could see, even from here, that the town had been hit hard, just like too many we’d seen since we left. Any bodies were long since gone, either by their own power or by the scavengers that now thrived. The home that occupied the corner was once beautiful, I could imagine, but was now no more than a burnt out husk with large sections the surrounding wrought iron fence lying obscured by overgrown grass and each of the windows cracked or shattered entirely. Farther down the street, two vehicles had slid into an empty lot, locked in an eternal and definitely fatal collision.

It was a long time before I was satisfied that it was safe to move on- safe, being a very relative and uncertain term anymore. Through the military-grade binoculars, I could see a few itinerant ghouls wandering the streets, and others long-since trapped in their former homes, occasionally making their way to a window but not figuring out how to get past it- they reminded me of that last fly of the summer season. The town was otherwise quiet and with Aimee next to me on the atlas, and the children instinctively quiet, we rolled stealthily into town.

“Straight.” “Left” “Through the brush, make a right.” Her directions were concise and timely, and I trusted her to get us where we needed to go. Each turn and every intersection we passed was chilling; every time I expected to see the inevitable staggering horde of the undead. Each time, they never appeared, which ironically only forced my anxiety to grow. We crossed rusted railroad tracks, pulling carefully into the tree-lined highway. Despite my fears, the road was empty far in either direction.

We drove past row after row of silently standing houses, and I couldn’t help but imagine the lives that once were once lived within them- birthday parties and anniversaries; lovemaking and arguments; fears, hopes and dreams; everything that made up the story of a life was cut short here. A small, pink little-girl’s bike lay in a lawn, partially obscured by overgrown grass; I looked away.

“Left here,” Aimee said, breaking my daydream. I turned and she pointed partway down the street, “There.” Kern St. Pharmacy was a quaint corner pharmacy with large glass windows, at least one completely smashed in. Looters had been there, probably about the time when people were still hoping for a cure. A large hand-painted sign proclaimed “
Vaccinations Here!
” Back then, it was hope alone that allowed us to continue, even though one by one the hopes that we held on to were found to be without merit. After careful consideration, I pulled the massive vehicle onto the side road, backing behind a small pizza place. The view of the pharmacy and connecting streets was about the best I could hope for.

I turned to Aimee. “You’re blocked on three sides, so you shouldn’t be seen and you can watch the street from the front. Have Madi watch the alley behind you, I don’t want you being surprised. Understand?”

She nodded.

I continued, “I’ll have my earpiece in. If you see anything, let me know. If I say to run, you need to do it. Promise me.” She nodded again. “Say it- You gotta promise me, Aimee.”

“I promise.” Her heart wasn’t in it, but I hoped that she was good for her word.

I turned towards where Madi watched silently from the couch, clearly sensing the gravity of the situation. “Madi, come over here.” She scooped Jacob into her arms and crossed to Aimee, gingerly handing the child to his mother. I pulled her into my lap and she wrapped her arms around my neck. “You know your brother’s sick, right?”

She nodded. “Yes, he has a cough.”

“Right,” I said. “And he needs some medicine to get better. You see that pharmacy right across the street?” She nodded. “His medicine’s right inside. So I’m just going to walk on over there and get it, then come right back. Maybe I’ll find something to bring you and Mom, too.”

She smiled unconvincingly. “You want me to come with you, Daddy?”

“No, baby, I need you to help Mommy keep an eye out. I need you to watch out the back window. If you see anything at all, you come right back up and tell Mommy- you don’t yell for her, you come and get her. Okay?” She nodded again.

“Yes, Daddy.”

I pulled the small revolver from the seat pocket. She hated it, but I gingerly placed it on the console next to her. “If you see anything, when you come up here, you need to have this. You know that, right?”

She nodded. “Yes.”

“If you have to, if Mommy or Jake’s in danger, where do you shoot?” I quizzed her, making sure she remembered what I had taught her.

“In the head or we’re dead,” she recited, proud of herself for remembering, despite the gravity of the situation. I was proud of her, too. She never had to put it into practice, and I hoped she never would… I wondered if she could.

“I love you, baby.” I kissed her head and she caught me in a tight hug.

“Love you, Daddy.”

To Jacob, “See you, buddy!” He cooed in response.

To Aimee, “I love you. I’ll be right back.” We kissed lovingly.

“Brad… Just hurry back, okay?” she said.

“I will.” Rising from the seat, I checked the pistol in my side holster, checked the extra clip, flipped my red-filtered flashlight on and off and strapped the secondary revolver to my ankle. “I’ll be back,” I repeated, then slid through the door and blinked into the bright sun. I slipped my sunglasses down over my eyes as the door closed behind me, locking into place, and could hear soft footsteps as Aimee and Madi walked to their stations.

Outside I was alone, and felt every bit of it in the jarringly quiet city.

I walked briskly down the street and stopped at the corner. “
We’re still open
!” bragged the weatherworn sign at Maria’s Pizza. No movement near the pharmacy. I carefully scanned the street in either direction. Nothing moved. Had this been an old western movie, a tumbleweed would have blown forlorn across the street. I crossed diagonally, from one corner to the next, directly towards the shop.

I took one last scan of the streets and then peered inside the gaping hole in the glass. The remaining glass, that which was still intact, was a heavy tint that left the interior dark except for the light pouring inside through the break. Dust lazily floated within the beams of daylight, which reminded me painfully of the day this all began. A newspaper stand rested broken on its side several feet in, presumably the key used to gain entry, and had spilled its contents. “
‘Killer Flu’
called ‘under control’” screamed the headlines in bold, authoritative print. Chances are newspapers weren’t being printed, or at least delivered, for much longer after that.

I climbed through the window, glass crunching under my feet, and saw that the interior was devastated and picked through by countless desperate searches. The shelves were in disarray and tipped over, and the floor was pitted with heavy scars and marks. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I could see that the rest of the space was in the same state, including the cracked and broken glass surrounding the pharmacy counter.

Cautiously, I walked to the back, varying my steps; the undead, for all their faults, seem to walk fairly rhythmically so I took care that the sound of their steps wouldn’t blend with mine so I could better hear. Paranoia, perhaps. I leaned over the counter, momentarily cutting the darkness with my flashlight. The familiar shelves of bottles and containers were bare, except for a few empty containers and sheets of paper. Unfilled bottles were strewn on the floor, with countless pills of all sizes, shapes and colors scattered among them. I could only hope that I’d find what I was looking for.

I pulled myself onto the counter and clumsily fell to the other side, momentarily losing my breath but quickly finding it again. Once upright, I pulled the list that Aimee had created for me from my pocket and studied it intently, committing the names, dosages and sketches to memory. One by one, I began creating piles of drugs and sorting them one at a time. Most I discarded in another, ever growing pile like a sort of Sisyphean task, but others I excitedly placed in my pocket. I had no idea what I was leaving, I knew only what I had to find.

My earpiece came alive; Static. A garbled voice I immediately recognized as Aimee’s. Static “Two,” static, “Any moment”, static, “please, don’t” silence. I rose in a panic and leapt onto the counter, ready to rush to their rescue.

A man’s voice faded into earshot, “Hide his food stamps under his work boots!” He laughed wildly at his own joke before he was joined by another deeper, heartier chortle. I realized that the voices came from the street, and I flicked off my light and slipped quietly back to the floor behind the counter. Peering over, I saw the silhouette from a bear of a man nearly fill the hole as he entered the pharmacy, followed shortly by another shorter, more slender form. I ducked as the twin lights of their flashlights scanned the room, lighting the wall behind me. There was no way out, except past them.

“There ain’t shit here,” said the larger man, kicking at a shelf, which collapsed with a deafening crash.

“Shut it,” said the other man, “your wife’s gonna pop any day and you don’t got jack for her. If I’m putting my ass on the line out here with you, we’re gonna look.”

The big man grumbled to himself but started poking around. As he searched close to the counter, his voice getting louder, I heard him reciting a rehearsed list, “prenates, formula, clothes.” I doubted he’d find any of them here, but he shined the light on the floor behind the counter and wove the light over the empty bottles as I pulled my body closer under the counter, desperate to not be seen. “Nothin’,” he spat.

“Let’s try next door,” said the other voice, disappointed, “I think that’s WIC or somethin’.”  His voice faded as they walked to the storefront. Once they were gone, I’d be ready to break for it.

“What the hell?” Asked the larger man. My heartbeat skipped painfully. “You see that?” I brought my eyes over the counter. He was pointing at the RV. “That wasn’t there earlier, was it?”

“No… it wasn’t,” answered the other man.

I drew my pistol and leveled it, steadying it on the counter. I aimed it at the back of the larger man, and wondered if I could get them both.

“I want it,” said the big man.

“Yeah,” said the other man, simply.

“Think there’s women inside? Manda’s kinda closed for business for a bit,” the big man laughed at his own joke. He sounded disturbingly excited.

“If there is, you’ll stand in line. Hell, I don’t care anymore, young or old, I’m getting me some.”

That was enough. I pulled the trigger and the big man collapsed on the ground with a scream, blood spraying the window and out the gap. The other man immediately bolted to the side, behind a row of shelves. I didn’t expect that, which was likely why he did it, and my second round flew harmlessly through the hole where I expected him to be and ricocheting off the concrete.

My ears rang from the shot, but otherwise the only sound was from the wounded man; his breathing was a harsh, irregular gurgle and his body was limp except for his legs, which softly kicked at nothing.

No one spoke. No one moved.

“Who are you?” His voice came from somewhere to the left.

“I’m not alone,” I lied, “if you’re armed, throw out your gun, show me your hands and come out slow.” I tried to be every tough cop I’d ever seen in the movies, but doubted that I was convincing.

“I do that, you’ll shoot me. Way I figure it, you’re the one that’s trapped in here, since I’m between you and the exit” he said. His voice had the calmness and confidence that I knew I lacked. “So I guess we have ourselves a Mexican standoff, don’t we?”

I didn’t answer. I knew he was right.

“My name’s Mike,” he said with an eerie calm. “What’s your name?”

“Brad,” I answered.

“All right, good. Now listen to me, Brad,” he continued softly. “My friend here, he’s hurt.” A raspy gurgle came from the wounded man, as if in agreement. “He might die if I don’t do something. His names Justin; he has a wife, a kid on the way, too. I want to help him, okay? I’m going to throw my weapon to you, then I’ll be unarmed; I won’t hurt you. I know you heard us talking, if that’s your family outside, we won’t hurt them, neither. I just want to get my friend and leave. Can we do that?”

I thought for a moment. He waited. “Yeah, I think that’s okay.”

“Good, Now, I’m gonna throw my gun in your direction, okay? I don’t want to see anyone else get hurt, so watch out. Are you ready?”

“Yeah.”

I heard him exhale, and an object sailed in a high arc, hitting the wall behind be and sliding a few feet away. I reached over and pocketed the small pistol.

“Okay, I’m coming out now, don’t shoot, okay?” he called.

“Okay,” I answered. I didn’t feel like I was agreeing as much as I was being led- I wasn’t comfortable with the sensation.

I saw his backlit form, holding his hands high in the air as he crossed over to the other man and knelt next to him. “Shit”, he whispered to himself, seeing the extent of the wound. My eyes blurred, slightly damp, from something that I didn’t entirely understand. More than anyone, this man deserved to die- deserved the terrifying death that he was experiencing. He was the scum that somehow survived when good men and women didn’t. But it was I that cost him his life; I was the one that cost his wife a husband and his unborn child a father. I didn’t know what to do with the feeling.