Flesh-Eater (Book 1): Fear the Fever (15 page)

B
eams of light shone from their torches, as they checked each of the traps they had set.  Not one mouse had been caught.  In fact, there didn’t appear to be any signs of mice at all.  No food in the pantry had been touched, no droppings.  It was surprising, considering his father had thought there was a nest.

“I was sure we’d have caught something,” he said, disappointed.  “Sorry guys.”

“Hey, it’s not your fault.  It was worth a shot.  Who knows?  Maybe we’ll catch something overnight,” Chad said encouragingly.  “It’s only been one day.”

“Let’s just have another look around.”

Zeke went back to the pantry, while the others walked around the shed itself.  He grabbed a stool to look on the top shelf, where the flour was kept.  There was a small pile of flour from the bag his father had found, but the rest of the bags looked fine.

He scanned the shelves below, moving aside jars of relish and ketchup, marmalade and jam.  He caught a whiff of something rotting, and began pulling things off the shelf, to find the source of the smell.

Tucked in behind a large jar of pickled onions, he found it.  At first glance, it looked like a pile of fur, all clumped together.  He moved a little closer, focusing his torch’s beam on the mess in the corner of the shelf.

Two beady eyes shone back at him through the mess of fur and what he could now see was blood.  What was left of its body, had been torn to shreds, leaving only the tail, and head, attached by the smallest piece of skin.  Even the insides were gone.

He took a step back, his mind on overload.  He noticed a smear of blood under his foot.  Shifting his leg, he saw what looked to be the remains of a baby mouse.  How he hadn’t noticed it earlier, was beyond him.  He bent down, to get a closer look.  It was tiny, maybe only a day or two old.  It hadn’t even grown any fur yet.  Its back end was flattened, but the head was still intact.  What didn’t make sense though, was the eyes.  Normally they don’t open until they’re a few weeks old.  These eyes were open and bulging.  They were red.  And moving.  It was still alive!  It opened its little mouth and a tiny hiss escaped.

He sat back, thinking this through.  The first mouse was definitely fully grown; that had to be the mother, and this had to be one of her litter.  Is it possible that this baby… ate its mother?  What was he thinking?  Of course it was possible!  People were out there eating each other!  And this creature before him was definitely no ordinary mouse.

If that was the case though, where were the others?  They rarely had only one baby in a litter.

“Guys?” he called.  “I found something.”  He pulled himself up off the ground, going back to the shelf.  He held his torch up to show them.  “Look.”  He watched their faces.  “I think this is the mother.  And that,” he flashed his light over to the mound on the floor, “is one of her babies.  It’s still alive.  Check out the eyes.”

“Dude, that’s fuckin’ creepy,” Zuckerman said, “It doesn’t even look like a mouse.”

“They don’t have fur when they’re born.  They’re normally blind until they’re a few weeks old.  Its eyes shouldn’t even be open yet,” Zeke said.

“Hey, look at this.”  Chad held up a bloodied tag.  “It was sticking out from under her.”  He motioned to the mother mouse.  He wiped the tag down his pants, trying to clear off the blood.  “Farrelly Pharmaceuticals,” he read, flipping it over, “The other side just has the letter ‘L’.  You think this was a test mouse?”

“That could explain a few things,” Zeke said.

“So this was some sort of fuckin’ experiment?!” Zuckerman demanded.

“We don’t know that for sure.  But it does look that way,” Zeke sighed.  “We should find this pharmaceuticals place.  See what they have to say.”

“Good idea.”

“We should take these… remains, with us.  The mother wasn’t like her babies.  Her eyes still look normal,” Zeke said.  “See if you can find a plastic container in the shed.  I’ll find something to scoop them up with.”

He walked out to where the tools were kept, finding a small shovel.  Returning to the pantry, he scraped up what he could of both rodents, careful not to get too close to the fangs of the baby mouse that were chomping at the air.  He slopped them into the container that Chad held out to him.  The smell was even stronger now that they had been moved.

“Put the lid on, that smell is rank,” Zuckerman said, holding his sleeve over his nose.

“Tell me about it,” Zeke said, standing up, his head doing a double-take when he looked at Zuckerman.  “Don’t move,” he whispered, staring at the shelf behind his head.

“What?  What is it?” Zuckerman demanded.

“It’s one of the babies.”  Zeke edged over, adjusting his grip on the shovel so that he could swing it down on top of the mouse.

“Hurry up!” Zuckerman hissed.

“Shh!”

The mouse was eyeing Zeke, tracking his every move.  The shovel came down, slamming hard into the shelf, but not before the mouse had darted away, leaping towards Zeke.  He dropped the shovel, falling backwards as he tried to swipe it off.  The mouse clawed its way up his shirt to his neck, sinking its tiny teeth in before he had a chance to swat it away.  He clamped his hands down on top of it, holding it to his chest.

“Quick!  Get me something to put it in!” he screamed, feeling the mouse claw at his fingers, in an attempt to get out.  “Hurry!”

“Here!” Chad scrambled over, holding out an empty jar.  Zeke lifted his hands, dropping the rodent into the jar.  Chad quickly screwed the lid on tight.  “You okay?” he asked, even though he could see the blood dripping from both his hands and neck.

“I’m fine.  I’ll be fine.”  He wiped his hands down his jeans, inspecting the wounds.  “We’re going to Farrelly,” he said.  “All of us.  Even if I have to be in the back of the trunk.  It’s in my blood now, they may be able to use it to find a cure.”  He set his jaw, staring intently at Chad.  “Don’t let me hurt anyone.  Kill me before that happens.  Promise me,” he demanded.  “Promise me!”

“Okay.  We promise,” Chad said, pity in his eyes.

“Good,” Zeke sighed, slipping to his knees.  “Don’t tell Harper, okay?”

“Don’t tell Harper what?” she asked, walking through the door.  “What’s all the commotion?  You guys find something?”  She stood with her hands on her hips, looking at each one in turn.  Zeke shoved his hands in his pocket, avoiding her gaze.

“Ah, yeah,” Chad said, holding up the jar and giving it a shake.  “We know where to go next.”

“And where might that be?”

“Farrelly Pharmaceuticals.”

“F
eisty little beggar, isn’t he?” Chad said, holding the jar up for them to see.  The mouse scampered around his enclosure, hissing and baring his tiny fangs.  “If this is how it all started, it’s easy to see how it spread so quickly.”

“How many babies do mice have at a time?” Tammy asked, twirling a strand of her hair around her finger.

“I think, like, ten?” Chad said, unsure.  “By the looks of this fella, I’d say they can get pretty far, pretty fast too,” he continued, turning to Zeke.  “How many neighbouring farms are there?”

“Well, there’s the Malone’s,” he motioned to Harper, “and to the West are the Franks, they have a few live-in workers.  Then there’s a small cattle ranch to the North, I forget their names.  Across these paddocks and over the road, belongs to the Masons.”  He pointed out past the fields.

“So they weren’t short of targets then.”

“No, I guess not,” Harper agreed.  “Back home there were so many of those...” she trailed off, having no word to describe them.  “They had to have been some of the first to be infected.  We had workers in the field, so I guess they were probably easy prey,” she said, her eyes glossing over as she thought back to the previous day.

“It makes sense,” Zeke said, “their farm is closest to ours.”

“So, now what?” Tammy asked.  “We have this mouse, but what do we do with it?”

Chad held up the tag he’d found in the shed.  “We found this with the mother,” he said.  “We think it was some sort of experimental mouse or something.  Maybe these guys will know what to do.”

Tammy grabbed the tag out of his hands, inspecting it.  “Farrelly Pharmaceuticals,” she said.  “Where are they?”  She handed it back to Chad, who sat it with the specimens they had collected.

“Montana Ave, Cincinnati,” Zeke read from the directory.  “That’s actually not that far away.”  He pulled out a road map, pointing.  “We’re here,” he said, trailing his finger across the map.  “And this is Montana Ave.  It backs on to Mt Airy Forest.”

“It’s a pretty straight drive.  If we leave first thing, we should get there before lunch,” Zuckerman said.

“Sounds like a plan,” Chad agreed.  “We should probably get some sleep.  It’s been a big day.”  He eyed Zeke cautiously, watching for any signs of the fever.  “I’ll take first watch tonight.”

Zeke looked as though he was about to protest, but thought better of it.  He settled in on one of the recliners, away from the others, a gun propped up against it.  He glanced at the gun, then at Chad and back again.  Chad understood.  He nodded sombrely.

The girls huddled up next to Caitlyn, and Zuckerman took the other recliner.  Chad grabbed a blanket, and draped it across his lap as he sat in the window, staring out at the dark sky.

He didn’t want to believe that Zeke was going to die.  Out of all of them, he was the strongest, probably the only one of them who could survive on his own.  He wished they had had more time to get to know each other.  There was a lot he could’ve learned from him.

This whole thing was so unfair.  Zeke, Harper and Zuckerman had all lost so much to this fever already.  If this turned out to be some sort of government experiment turned awry, there was going to be hell to pay.  He wouldn’t be able to stop Zuckerman from dishing out his own form of punishment, and to be honest, he wouldn’t want to either.

He turned his attention back to Zeke.  So far the fever didn’t appear to have taken hold.  He slept peacefully, his breathing slow and even.  That wasn’t enough to put Chad’s mind at ease though.  He knew that it was only a matter of time before he turned, and when that happened, he needed to be prepared.

The fire crackled loudly, making him jump.  He hadn’t meant to doze off.  With one quick look out the window, he stood and picked his way through the bodies on the floor to get to the wood stack.  He hefted a few smaller pieces onto the diminishing flame, watching as they began to smoulder.  Satisfied that he had saved the dying fire, he went back to his post on the window.

He checked on Zeke again, noting the flushed look on his skin.  There was a light sheen of sweat on his brow and he kept screwing his face up in pain.  It was happening.

B
linking his eyes open, Zeke found himself staring down the double barrel of his own gun.  His gaze travelled up the long steel rod, to the intense stare of Chad.  It took a moment for him to make sense of what was happening.

“Woah, man!  It’s me!” he cried out, backing up against the wall.  He looked around the room, noticing that he was no longer in the living room with everyone else.  He was in the corner of his bedroom, and the door was closed.  He turned his attention back to Chad, seeing the hesitation in his eyes before he lowered the gun, confusion settling on his face.

He sat back, realisation hitting him like a tonne of bricks.  “I’m still alive?” he asked, slapping his hands down his body, to make sure he wasn’t dreaming.  “I don’t understand.  What happened?” he demanded.

Chad sat back on his haunches, the gun across his knees as he searched Zeke’s eyes for any hint of red.  “How do you feel?” he asked suspiciously.

Zeke thought for a minute.  “I feel fine,” he said.  “A little confused, but fine.”

“This doesn’t make any sense.  You had the fever.  You had it,” Chad said, running his hand through his hair in frustration.  “You were sweating and panting.  It went on for ages.  That’s why I brought you in here, I figured it was nearly time,” he paused, glancing towards the door, “I didn’t want the others to see.”  He looked up, meeting his eyes once more.  “Your face was so pale, and then your breathing just calmed, like you were about to cark it.  You just lay there, barely moving.  And then you woke up.”

“Why didn’t I turn?” Zeke wondered out loud.

“I’d be interested in the answer to that too.”  Chad stood up, offering his hand to Zeke.  He pulled him up to stand, grabbing him, and giving him an awkward hug.  “Whatever the reason, I’m glad you’re still with us.”  He slapped his hand on his back twice, before walking to the door.  “I really didn’t want to have to kill you.”

“W
e all set?” he asked, throwing the last bag into the back of the Land Cruiser.

“Yip.  Lead the way,” Tammy jumped into her battered old Ford with Harper and Caitlyn in tow.

“You alright to drive?” Chad asked Zeke as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

“I told you, I feel fine.  If it changes I’ll let you know, don’t worry.”  Zeke jingled the keys in his hand.  “We good?”

“Yeah, we’re good.”  Zuckerman had been surprised to see Zeke walk out of the bedroom alive this morning.  He had helped Chad carry him out of the living room when his fever had broken.  He thought for sure he was a goner.  Now here he was, sitting in the front of his car, driving them to Cincinnati.

Holding on to both seats and pulling himself forward, he studied Zeke.  “So, no cannibalistic urges?” he asked.

Zeke huffed out a laugh, “Nope, you’re safe.”

“That’s exactly what someone who was plotting to eat us would say,” he said, raising his brow.  He stretched his hand towards Zeke, poking his face.

Swatting him away, Zeke frowned.  “Come on, man.  It’s really me.  I know it’s weird that I haven’t turned, but I swear,” he turned to look at Zuckerman, “I’m okay.”  Turning the car onto the highway heading out of town, he said “Hopefully these pharmaceutical guys can tell us why I didn’t turn.  Maybe I’m immune or something.”  He glanced in his mirror, making sure the girls were still following behind them.  “Maybe we all are.”

“How do you figure that?” Zuckerman asked cynically.

“Think about it.  All of us have been exposed to it.  We’ve all had their blood on us at some point or another.  None of us have gotten sick so far.”  Zuckerman snorted.  “Until I got bitten,
obviously
.  But I still didn’t die.  That’s gotta mean something.”

“It does make sense,” Chad agreed.  “We know you don’t have to be bitten to turn, so it has to be passed on like a virus.  Zeke’s right.  We’ve all come into contact with it, so we should be sick or dead by now too.”

“Why us though?” Zuckerman challenged.  “What makes us so special?”

“Why not us?” Zeke said.  “Without us, the world may have never found the cause.”

“So, you’re saying it’s a fate thing?” Zuckerman asked, rolling his eyes.  “You don’t really believe that shit, do you?”

“I’m just saying, the authorities don’t know what this thing is, where it came from.  They don’t know where to even start.  I think we were meant to survive, to bring the peace back.”  He shrugged, knowing how he sounded.  “I know it sounds corny, but why else would I survive?  Maybe they can make some sort of antibody or whatever, out of my infected blood.”

“So now you’re like, the saviour?  This just keeps getting better!” Zuckerman hooted, scooting back in his seat and slapping his hand on his knee.  “Can you say
God complex?
” he laughed.

“Wouldn’t you want to see if you could help save others if you were him?” Chad asked, turning to look at his friend.  “He may be our best hope at beating this.”

Zuckerman raised his arms in defence.  “Okay, okay.  You guys win!” he grinned.  “I guess he could be kinda useful.”  He gave Zeke a playful shove on the shoulder. Leaning through to the front again, his face suddenly drained of all colour.  “Oh shit!  Stop the car!”

“What?  Why?” Zeke asked, slowing the car to pull over.

“Oh God.  Billy.” Chad whispered when he realised where they were.  “We forgot to go back for him.”

They clambered out and made their way over to the tree where they had last seen their friend.  There was a smear of red down the trunk where he had been propped up.  One of his shoes lay on the ground a few feet away, along with the hammer they had left with him for protection.

Zuckerman crouched down, trailing his hand along the trunk.  “D’you think maybe he could’ve survived?  Like Zeke?” he asked hopefully, his earlier scepticism forgotten.

Chad shoved his hands in his pockets, staring out across the fields beside them.  “I hope so,” he said, knowing deep down that it wouldn’t be the case.  If he had survived, he certainly wouldn’t have left his only weapon behind.  “We should probably get going.”  He walked over to the tree, resting his hand on the trunk, and ducking his head for a moment before heading back to the Land Cruiser, Zuckerman following behind, scuffing his feet.  Chad could tell he was struggling with the loss of another friend.  “It’s not our fault,” he said, trying to offer some sort of relief.

“We should have come back for him.”

Chad stopped.  “Z, you know there’s nothing we could have done for him.  He would’ve turned on us like all the others.”

“You don’t know that.  If Zeke can go through it and come out the other side, then so could others.  He can’t be the only one to have this freak ability.”  Zuckerman was glaring at Chad.  He knew he was being unreasonable but he had to believe that his friend made it out alive.  He already had his parents’ deaths on his hands.  If only he had gone back home to check on them…

“Z?” Chad placed his hand on his shoulder, looking him in the eye.  “I want to believe it too.  I do.  But you know as well as I do, that it’s not looking good.  Billy wasn’t even bitten and he got sick.  I don’t think that’s a good sign.”

Zuckerman averted his eyes, his jaw working.  He let out a slow sigh, nodding his head.  “Yeah, I know,” he said quietly.

“The best thing we can do right now, is try to find that cure.”

“You’re right.  I’m sorry.  My head’s all screwed up after yesterday.”

“Just after yesterday, huh?” Chad said, raising one eyebrow with a smirk.

“Shut-up, dick-wad.  Get in the car,” Zuckerman grumbled.