S.W. Tanpepper's GAMELAND: Season Two Omnibus (Episodes 9-11) (141 page)

Stepping quickly back, Doctor White inserted the needle into Cassie's neck. It took all of her strength to force the liquid in.

“Is that the cure?”

She shook her head at Reggie. “It liquefies the clotted blood, allows it to flow again.” She checked the time on her Link and waited.

After two minutes had passed, she withdrew the needle. “Now,” she said. “It's time to wake her up.”

* * *

It took Cassie much longer than expected to recover from the EM hit, almost an hour, during which time Doctor White flushed the girl's veins a dozen times with saline and replaced it with synthetic plasma. When that was done to her satisfaction, she nervously busied herself checking for signs of life.

Once more, Reggie quietly tried to get Kelly to leave. But the sky had darkened to a deep golden hue by then. It was streaked with luminescent white and red clouds. Night was falling, so they stayed.

By the time the girl finally began to move again — her hands and feet twitching first, then her arms and legs bending — the entire sky had bruised a deep purple.

“What's happening?” Reggie asked.

Doctor White didn't answer. She pointed to the large stew pot she'd gotten from a cabinet in the kitchen and asked him to dispose of the contents. It was filled with the girl's useless blood, a nasty black goo with the consistency of tar. He set it outside the sliding door beside the rotting corpse.

“It's going to take some time,” she said, when he returned. “I don't know how long.”

Neither boy spoke. They made themselves comfortable in chairs on opposite sides of the room and waited and watched as Cassie resumed being an Infected Undead. There was no sign that the treatment had worked.

Eventually, darkness slipped into the house. Doctor White asked Reggie to turn on the lights in the hallway, and he was surprised to find that they worked. “Solar panels,” she explained. And that was the sum total of the exchange between the three of them until sometime close to four in the morning.

Reggie was lightly dozing when he heard Doctor White speaking softly. He opened his eyes and carefully raised his head and peered over at the couch. In a dark corner on the other side of the room, he could see Kelly's eyes reflecting the light from the hallway.

“Cassie?” she was saying, repeating it over and over again. “Cassie? Honey? Can you hear me?”

Reggie shifted and threw Kelly a questioning look.

“She has a pulse,” he quietly said.

Doctor White's chant continued unchanged.

“Really?”

He saw Kelly nod.

Movement on the couch drew his gaze back. He realized the girl had stopped writhing. She was lying still now, as if asleep.

Or dead.

Her mother was gently pulling the girl's hair away from her face. It was brittle and kept breaking, and she'd flick her fingers to one side to get the strands off. She'd then resume brushing more of it away from the skeletal face.

The girl's chest rose. Then fell.

Then rose again.

“She's breathing?”

Kelly nodded.

“How long?”

“Twenty minutes or so.”

“Cassie? Can you hear me?” Doctor White asked again.

She gently removed the gag. Reggie's pulse quickened.
Don't do that
, he wanted to tell her.
Put it back.

“It's your mother. I'm here. I'm finally here.”

And this time Cassie responded. The sound was little more than a growl, the rasp of sandpaper rubbing against rough fabric, but it was as clear to the boys as it was to the woman sitting only inches away:

“
Maaaaaahhhh maaaaa . . . .
”

 

“
MICAH!
”

Jessie sprang at Jo, striking her on the cheek with her elbow and ripping the grin off her face. They fell in a heap between pews before the Live Player could redirect either pistol or sword and began clawing at each other's faces.

Jo wrapped both of her hands around Jessie's neck. Even as her throat constricted, starving her of air, Jessie was aware that Rosie would be joining in the fight. She slammed the heel of her hand upward against Jo's nose, and the pressure released.

Jo reeled back, her hands now at her face. “Haycock!” she called. Blood trickled from one of her nostrils.

“
You bitch!
” Jessie screamed. “You killed him!”

“He was dying anyway. You can't smell the infection?”

“I wasn't talking about him.” She pulled Jo down and climbed on top, reaching for Jo's throat. “I'm going to kill you!”

“Are you talking about the zomb—?”

Jessie slammed her fist against the bottom of the woman's jaw, and her teeth came together with a loud
SNAP!

“
Fuggin amn ih!
” Jo screamed, spraying blood and spittle onto Jessie's face. “
Hay-gahg!
” She thrust her head up, slamming it into Jessie's nose. There was a sickening crunch, and pain exploded before her eyes. The back of her head crashed into the pew. Jo repeated the head butt, but this time Jessie was ready for it and jerked out of the way.

The motion threw her off of Jo, who used it to her advantage. She grabbed a handful of Jessie's hair and pushed her away, then slid out from underneath the bench with a vicious kick. The heel of her boot scraped Jessie's shin, but she barely felt it.

“
Hay-GAHG!
” Jo shouted again. “
Where fuhgger oo?
”

She tried to stand up. Blood was pouring from her mouth. Jessie thought it was a split lip, but then she caught a glimpse of Jo's tongue, which had a nasty gash in it.

“
Fuggin bih mah ung!
”

Jessie tried to get up. She was still halfway beneath a pew, yet she couldn't move. Something was holding her back, pinning her. Something had a hold of her shirt.

She felt underneath the pew and found the stray nail head, a part of her sleeve tangled up over it, but she couldn't work it free.

Jo spat a wad of blood onto the floor, then realized that Jessie was stuck. A smile crossed her face, twisted by the injury to her mouth. She took her time bending down on her hands and knees to look for the gun.

Jessie redoubled her efforts, trying vainly to tear the tough fabric or loosen the nail, but neither wanted to give.

“Haygahg!” Jo shouted again. “Where a fuh are ooh?”

Jessie changed directions and began pushing herself back beneath the pew. The nail scraped across her belly, then dug into her ribs. She pulled harder as the pain tore through her, but now she was moving. She was almost free!

Hands grasped her shoulders and yanked her the rest of the way out. The nail bit into her hip bone, then scraped her thigh. She felt the metal slice into her jeans, felt the searing heat of it, and she screamed.

Jo pulled her onto her knees. Then looking her straight in the eyes, she slammed her fist into Jessie's cheek. It was a glancing blow as Jessie tried to pull away. The knuckles scraped along her cheekbone and her ear. Jo reached back again.

Jessie grabbed the front of her jumpsuit. She pushed as hard as she could, using the pew behind her for leverage. Jo's head bounced against the book rack, wrenching her neck. Jessie pulled back, then thrust again, and they fell.

Jo's lip caught the corner of a Bible, pulling her damaged mouth into a sneer. She reared back, trying to dislodge Jessie's hands, but her grip was like a vise now.

Jessie pulled again, this time slamming Jo's head into the solid oak frame with a resounding
thunk!

“Stop!” a voice commanded. “That's enough!”

She yanked Jo back again, but froze when she heard the click of the gun's safety. She raised her eyes to where Rosie was standing at the other end of the row, the gun pointed at her head.

“I said, that's enough.”

A smirk crossed Jo's face. She reached up to wipe a line of bloody snot from her cheek. “
‘Bou fuggin ime, Hay-gahg
,” she slurred. “
Fuggin cun.
” She raised her fist and slammed it once more into Jessie's face.

* * *

The darkness was so absolute that when Jessie woke, she wasn't sure her eyes were even open. In fact, she couldn't be sure she was awake. She'd been hearing voices for a while, flitting about her, wavering between being very close by and somewhere far away. But had she dreamt them? There seemed no clear distinction between herself, her mind, and everything else.

Her face hurt, she knew that. Badly. But so did her brain. Just thinking took effort and energy she didn't have.

After a while, she tried to raise her hand to touch her cheeks, but she found she couldn't. Her wrists were bound behind her, as were her ankles.

The myriad voices eventually coalesced into two and then separated enough for her to recognize them: Jo and Rosie. They were arguing.

“I'm not letting you steal this from me,” Rosie said. “I don't trust you.”

“Oh, why nah?” came Jo's reply, her voice low and seductive, yet still missing the hard consonants. She sounded like she had a mouthful of cotton.

Jessie snorted silently. She hoped she'd bitten off half her tongue.

But her amusement was short-lived as the reality of her confinement came back to her. The only reason she was still alive was because Rosie didn't trust Jo not to cut her out of her share of the winnings.

She tugged at the bindings — plastic ties — but only managed to make herself bleed.

Getting the hood off of her head was easier, but afforded little benefit in terms of sight. It was still dark. They were outside under the stars.

A breeze caressed her cheek.

The voices died down. Jessie could smell food, could hear the crackle of something cooking and the soft tink of metal on metal. A memory of Eric taking her camping flashed through her mind, of marshmallows cooked using green sticks cut fresh from the surrounding trees. The campfire. Tents. Sleeping bags.

A tear rolled down her cheek. There were no trees here for cutting sticks. There were no marshmallows.

We're back at the wall. That's why they feel safe.

Except the wall wasn't inside her head, which meant it wasn't inside the Undead's either.

“Hungry?”

Jo's voice startled her out of her thoughts. The woman was little more than a vague shape in the darkness. Something bounced off Jessie's chest, then rolled to the dirt beside her.

“Have some beans. There may be one or two left in the can.” She laughed quietly. “Oh, I may have pissed in it. Beggars can't be choosers.”

The dirt crunched as she walked briskly away.

Jessie's stomach rumbled. She was hungry and thirsty. But even worse, she was starting to get a headache, and not one of her usual ones, either.

This one was in the base of her neck.

 

Reggie sat straight up in the chair, stunned by what he thought he'd heard. Could it be real? Had the girl actually spoken? Or was it just a moan?

Kelly was also leaning forward and staring, the same look of disbelief on his face that Reggie knew was on his own.

“Cassie?” her mother said, her voice hushed.

But the girl had gone silent and still.

“I guess she's sleeping.” Doctor White lowered her head to the cushion and closed her eyes.

Kelly stood up and gestured for Reggie to follow him into the kitchen. There was a new urgency in the way he carried himself. The lost and bewildered look was gone, leaving only a steely determination. “We'll leave as soon as the streets clear.”

“Oh, now you're eager to leave. What changed?”

Kelly's eyes flicked in the direction of the living room. He opened his mouth to speak, but nothing came out. In the end, he just shrugged and said, “Jessie needs us.”

“What the hell did we just witness in there, Kel?” Reggie asked.

“The girl spoke. It gives me hope. Against all odds, Doctor White made it happen. I— I guess I didn't really believe it was possible. Any of this. Maybe even Jessie.”

Reggie still had his doubts — not of Jessie, but of the cure — but he decided to keep them to himself. It didn't matter what he believed, as long as it got Kelly moving again.

“We'll head straight for Jayne's Hill,” Kelly told him. “We'll take the main roads, leave signs along the way, just in case we cross paths.”

Doctor White stepped into the kitchen. To Reggie, it seemed that she had also changed. She looked older now, as if she'd been held in suspended animation and all the missing years were just now catching up with her. And yet, at the same time, the woman appeared more vibrant, more alive than she had during the previous couple of days since he'd first met her. The circles under her eyes were less severe, which was surprising given how little they'd all slept.

“There's a car in the garage,” she told them. “I've plugged in the battery for you. You can take it.”

“You're okay with us leaving you?”

“I'm not going anywhere, not until Cassie's recovered enough.”

Reggie realized that that wasn't what Kelly had meant. Despite this new evidence that the cure was working, he too still feared what the little girl might do. They just didn't know.

They repacked their bags, divvying up the cans that Kelly scavenged from the mostly empty shelves in the pantry. Most of it was dog food, but it would do in a pinch. And there was no dog around to eat it.

Kelly scrounged what he thought was useful from the house and added it to the back seat and trunk of the car. The Audi's engine chugged to life after a great deal of coaxing. Black smoke belched from the exhaust for several minutes before clearing. The engine creaked and rattled.

“Tank's half full,” he reported. It was almost four-thirty and they were just waiting for the sun to come up. They peeked out the front door at the Undead standing out in the moonlight. “Always gives me the creeps seeing them out there like that.”