Rage (5 page)

“
How’s the bite?” Sally looked concerned.

“
It’s healing,” I said, releasing the bandage and patting it back in place. “Don’t think about it. I was lucky.”

“
The fever almost killed you.”

I smiled. “It’ll take a little more than some heat to get rid of me.”

Sally did not return the smile. She pulled something from her back pocket. “These are yours.”

“
My gloves.” I took them from her. “Hello boys.” To Sally: “Thanks for thinking about them.”

“
Hopefully they’ll protect you from other bites.”

“
I don’t want any more bites, thank you very much.”

“
We should get a move on.”

I nodded. She was right. We needed to find somewhere to rest for the night and make some plans for tomorrow and the next few days. Most importantly, we needed water and food—in that order. Coming across Eric and his group was a blessing. A reprieve from the constant fear of attack. There had to be other camps like Eric’s. There had to be pockets of communities helping each other to survive through this nightmare scattering across the country. It was logical to know they existed. We just had to find them. And the hardest part was surviving long enough to reach them. No food. No water. Tons of zombies. Not great odds, but we had made it this far.

The forest was thick and the going harder than we thought. It was pitch black in there and the moonlight didn’t reach through the dense overhead cover. We moved as quietly as possible, all our senses were on alert for any sound not ours. I doubted zombies would be in this thick bush, they’d be out on paved streets hunting the scent of a lone survivor or two. That was no reason to be lax. Alertness had kept us alive for this long and it was hard to switch off anyway. Being always alert had become second nature and that was a good thing in this world where fiction had become reality.

It was getting late and we had to get going before the crack of dawn. The forest was thick and silent. I sat down against a tree. Sally looked exhausted. I was faking mine. I had slept a lot; yes, it was a feverish sleep but sleep nonetheless. I don’t think Sally got much sleep looking after me. “We need to rest,” I said. “I’ll take first watch.”

Sally sat next to me. “Okay. Wake me in a couple of hours.” She cuddled against me and I put my arm around her and held her close. I felt her warmth and soft breathing against my neck. These were the moments I would remember if I managed to reach old age or these would be my last memories as my life faded from existence and a virus animated me.

Was it safe to hold Sally like this if the virus was waiting for the fever to pass to gain control?

I didn’t want to think about that.

Hours passed. I stared into the blackness not intending to wake up Sally. She needed her rest. My eyes were getting heavy, but I was pretty sure we were safe here, for now at least.

Sally stirred. “You didn’t wake me,” she said.

“
It’s still dark. You needed sleep more than I did.”

She kissed me softly on my neck. “You’re a good man.”

I looked at my hand. Yeah, but for how much longer? That thought was not voiced. Sally covered my neck with small soft kisses. The tenderness felt good, felt right. Sally straddled me. Her kisses were hard on my lips as her tongue forced open my willing mouth. Her hands went to my zipper. I fumbled with her jeans and managed to pull them down to her knees. Suddenly she went down on me. That was a first. She gagged, taking my shaft too deep. I pulled her off and kissed her hard. She wriggled onto me, impaling herself and moved in slow rhythmic thrusts. I grabbed her ass cheeks helping her to move faster and ground deeper. I wanted to get as much of her as I could. She grabbed my hair and pulled my head back. Her eyes bored into mine. “I love you,” she whispered and clamped her lips on mine before I could reply in kind. Her tongue massaged mine. I felt her body shiver, and I exploded into her. Both spent, I pulled out of her. We adjusted our clothing and held each other close until the sun started to break through the night sky.

Two days later, we broke through the forest and came to a paved road. It led into a small township. We found water and canned food, which we ate cold and straight from the can. We encountered no zombies in the township, though they may have been there and not caught our scent. We were filthy, covered in dirt, sweat and grime.

On the outskirts of town, we found a secluded house. It was empty and had good, clear exits if a hasty escape was needed. The water worked. There was a generator out back but I knew better than to turn that on. Cold showers were better than no showers. I also got to clean and apply a new bandage to my wounded hand. The bite had started to scab over. That was a good sign. At night, we slept in a bed. All doors were locked and we jammed chairs under the handles. I discovered storm shutters on most of the windows and kept them locked day and night. Only the kitchen window was unprotected. It was a nice break from our harsh living. We stayed two weeks. I knew that was pushing our luck but life seemed to be livable during this time. Sally and I were making love almost every night. We were well fed. The house had a pantry filled with canned food and stale bread that was delicious, if a bit crusty and moldy. It was bliss. But all good things come to an end and it came with the sound of an engine.

I cracked open the bedroom storm shutter and saw the same 4X4 go roaring past with the same zombie strapped to the hood. Those sick fucks were still around. Dumb luck was keeping them alive, I guess. “Tonight we move out,” I said and Sally nodded her agreement. We both knew this wouldn’t last. I grabbed a rucksack and filled it with water and food, enough to last a few days. It needed to be light and easy for hasty movement.

As soon as it was dark we were out of there and jogging at an even pace along the side of the road. Two nights later, I was captured and locked in this room with the zombie known as George.

It’s staring at me with something akin to amazement or hunger. The bite on my hand is itching. It’s been awhile since that’s happened. I didn’t realize we were locking eyes at one another until the itch became unbearable and was dealt with. My fingers dug into the teeth marks. It was relief and pain at the same time, like popping a pimple.

The door opened and the guy came in again. “I need a blood sample,” he said and withdrew a syringe from his pocket. “The urine test was inconclusive.”

“
I’m not infected.”

He pointed to my hand. “How did that happen?”

“
Zombie.” Wow, I was being very honest.

“
When?”

“
About two weeks ago.”

He gave me a skeptical look. “About two weeks ago?” he repeated.

I nodded.

“
Impossible.”

I snorted. “We live in ‘Ripley’s Believe it or not’. Or have you not noticed the zombies?” I pointed at George. I felt anger building inside. “We live in Romero’s world, now.”

“
And the virus is highly infectious. It’s not selective in who it dominates.” He remained cool under my building anger. “If you were bitten and the infection didn’t take hold that gives odds of seven million to one.”

“
I’m not a betting man.”

“
Let me take your blood and we’ll know for sure.”

“
I know.” I almost growled the words. Hearing the rumble in my voice freaked me out and I saw a tiny shiver roll across the man’s shoulders. I took a deep breath to calm myself down and rolled up my sleeve. “Fine, take some.”

He latched a rubber tube around my arm and, finding a vein, inserted the needle with expert precision. “I hope that’s a new needle,” I said.

He smiled at my attempt at humor but didn
’t have a comeback. The tube on the syringe filled fast. He popped it out and slid in a second tube, which didn’t fill as fast as the first. “This should be enough,” he said and finished up.

“
If you don’t know whether or not I’m infected, why are you so calm around me? I could turn at any second.”

The man pocketed the needle and tubes. He looked at George who had remained sitting on the floor. “I believe that in the first few hours of infection all zombies retain some memory, or at least a hint of long-term memory. I’m talking about only a few hours at most. At least in the first ten to fifteen or thirty minutes they are clearly aware of what is going on. After that, only one thought remains.”

I stared at him, wanting him to go on.

“
Hunger.” With that, he turned on his heel and walked to the door. “Clear,” he spoke to some unseen person. The door opened and he waited a moment before stepping into the doorway. He turned to me. “We’ll have the results shortly.”

And with that, he was gone again.

The man’s words echoed in my head: in the first few hours of infection, all zombies retain some memory, or at least a hint of long-term memory. I had thought the same thing when Ai Nishimoto had stroked my face before Eric took her out of the picture. A lone shadow memory that lingered for the first few hours would explain why
Dad didn’t attack us straight away, but it also didn’t explain why he hadn’t just left the house, knowing we were there. Was he trying to protect Skyler until the hunger got to him? I would never know the answers to these questions, best not to dwell on them.

Leaning against the wall, I slid to my butt and stared at George. “How did they capture you?” The zombie looked at me. “Your kind doesn’t walk alone. You fucks are always in packs.” Ai Nishimoto was alone, I remembered. Somehow, zombies had broken through the gates and overwhelmed the guards in total silence. How was that possible? Someone must have let them in. But why? Was it Ai, is that why she was alone? No, I doubt she would have done that. If no one let them in, that could only mean they were learning. Learning to hunt. Like the cavemen of old. They had planned a sneak attack. If this were true, we were totally fucked. Would I be the last human?

No. I would ensure Sally was with me and safe, once I got out of here. We would find somewhere habitable, set up traps, breed and be heavily armed. We would also search for others. We would make a life and survive. That was my new plan from this moment forth.

The door opened. Two guys wearing face masks and rifles entered. George went nuts. It dodged to the left and right. “Settle down,” one shouted. The other turned to face me. My heart skipped a beat when the rifle was raised to my chest. I backed away. If this was it, there was no escape. I said a quick prayer for Sally and closed my eyes. Fuck that. I opened them again. Dying with eyes shut is not the way a man should die. I stared right at the gunman and even advanced a step before he fired.

I took the hit to the left side of my chest. I expected blood and pain, but instead I felt only a prick. Looking at the wound, I saw a dart where there should have been blood. What the fuck? George was hit also—it took two darts to slow him down. As George dropped, I felt my vision slide away and with it, all tension in my muscles relaxed. My knees buckled and I hit the floor. Hello darkness, my ol...

...I awoke strapped to a table.

The man stood to the side of me. He wore a white coat and a blue facemask. He was inserting a tube into my wrist. I followed the thin tube up to a drip-bag filled with blood.
What were they pumping into me?

“
You’re awake. Good. Sorry about the dart, the men here are overly cautious.” He opened the drip tube. “You can’t blame them though. They’ve been through a lot. We all have.” He tapped the drip-bag. “Your test came back at five percent, which means you’re infected but the virus is not taking hold.”

I felt a prick in my other arm. Another guy dressed like a doctor was drawing blood. “How much of this stuff do you need?”

“
We’re going to do some cross checking.” He stepped away from the bed. “Oh, where are my manners?” He pulled down the mask. A smile cracked his face. “I’m Dr. Speaker. Cannon Speaker.” He took my hand in his and gave it a slight squeeze. He was careful of the tube in my arm.

There was a white curtain separating beds. I could make out the shadow-shape of someone in the bed to my left. I shut my eyes as the doctor left. Were they trying to cure me? Five percent was a very small figure. Was all this testing necessary? A urine test, two blood tests and a drip bag of blood sent my panic mode into alert. Were they testing me or were they running tests on me?