The Infected: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (8 page)

"We have to go!" Sam screamed. "Something's coming." She pointed toward the beast but it was no longer there. Her eyes darted around the empty landscape trying to fix in on the horrible creature.

"Sam."

"It was just there."

"Sam."

She looked to Jordan. The air warmed and silence gave way to distorted, muted screams from the buildings above them. It was as if they were standing under an unseen protective bubble protecting them from the elements.

"Something
is
coming," Jordan said. His lips drooped into a frown.

"What's coming?" Sam asked. "What was that thing?"

"You are the light, Sam." Jordan's eyes looked even more hollowed and his skin was a pallid, putrid shade of gray. "You are the light and David is the key." He pointed toward the heart of the city and Sam's stomach lurched as the awful scream of the creature ripped through the night sky.

"Look at it," Jordan instructed.

"I won't," Sam said. She shook her head. "I'm too scared."

"Please," he pleaded, "look at it for me."

Hesitantly, Sam glanced in the direction he pointed, but instead of finding the hideous monster, she saw something else. David stood in the middle of the road, holding a bloodied teddy bear in one hand and bundle of schoolbooks in the other.

"Oh my god," she whispered.

The boy was far away from them, almost the same distance the creature had been when Jordan appeared. He stood motionless in the middle of the street and his clothes hung around the rotting flesh underneath. Sam's heart split in two at the sight of him.

This was all her fault.

The burning city.

David.

All of it.

"Sam," Jordan said

She turned back to him. A crimson dot appeared in the center of his chest. Sam's heart dropped, and she pressed her hand over the wound.

"You have to remember the flowers," Jordan said. "The flowers are the answer to all of this."

The blood spread beyond her palm and she pressed harder against his chest.

"No," she pleaded. "Don't do this. Don't leave me again. I don't understand."

"Sam, you have to wake up now," Jordan instructed her, but his voice sounded foreign. "You have a job to do."

Sam barely heard what he was saying. She placed her free hand over the one on his chest, but the blood continued to expand.

"Please don't go."

"You have to wake up."

"I don't—"

"Wake up, Sam!"

Her eyes flew open.

She no longer stood in the burning city but rather sat shotgun on the cold leather seat of the truck. Cole Porter's monstrous arm latched across her shoulders and pushed her back against the seat. He shouted something, but Sam didn't understand.

The words didn't make sense but the hysteria in his voice and the frightened look in his eyes caused a chill to run up Sam's spine. She looked forward and fifty yards ahead, bathed in the headlights of the truck, was an infected. Its once human body was nothing more than a skeleton covered in a shell of rotten flesh and tattered clothes. Snow white hair jutted wildly from grayish-black skin and the creature's open mouth revealed a set of broken, blood-stained teeth.

Sam screamed.

Cole jerked the wheel and the dark landscape filling the windshield pivoted around them. The headlights spun from the faded asphalt and spilled onto sand and cacti. Her brain, still foggy from the remnants of the nightmare, searched for an answer to what was happening. By the time she understood, it was too late.

The moment of clarity seemed to freeze and stretch out for an eternity. Sam looked at the speedometer which read sixty-five, to Cole's face which was twisted in fear and disbelief and then back to the horizon which spun around them. Her brain registered one fleeting thought: she wished she would have put on her seatbelt. The moment that seemed like it would never end finally did and the passenger side tires lifted from the ground.

The truck crashed hard on the driver side and Sam slammed into Cole. The glass windshield of the box truck fractured into millions of spider-legs and then shattered as the truck skid across the desert floor. She closed her eyes and prayed for all of this to be over. Instead, the truck slid for a second longer and then flipped into a death-roll at breakneck speed.

Another moment of clarity struck Sam. This one even odder than the last. She found herself floating over the wreckage. Below her, the crunching sound of metal echoed through the night sky. Above, the stars grew closer and closer and Sam smiled. She was on her way to heaven to be reunited with her lover.

She took a deep breath of the brisk air as she stared at the vast expanse of twinkling sky above her. "I'm coming, Jordan."

And then her ascension stopped, and much to her dismay, she started to fall. The twinkling stars faded as she plummeted toward the ground. The air grew hot and thick. And then there was nothing.

When Sam opened her eyes again, the world was blurry and distorted. Her ears rang and her body numbed to non-existence. The first rays of dawn dotted the horizon, and she fixed her eyes on the purple and pink streaks cutting through the black sky. It was beautiful

Somewhere in the distance, inaudible shouts broke through the silence. She couldn't move her head, but focused her eyes on the crumpled shell of the truck. It was lying upside down, a hundred yards away from her. The frame rocked back and forth as black plumes of smoke rose from its engine.

Sam strained her eyes and saw what was causing the strange movements. The truck was surrounded by a half-dozen decomposing bodies. The infected had found them and they were trying to get to Cole.

She gasped in terror and when she did, explosions of pain rocketed through her. The cloudiness resurfaced to her eyes and everything grew dark again. She tried calling out to Cole, but couldn't. The pain too great. The unseen injuries too severe.

She resigned herself to giving into the darkness engulfing her and hoped Cole's death would find him quickly and without suffering. The possibility of reuniting with Jordan made all this less painful and their journey to Concordia dissolved into a distant memory. And if death was a way out of this godforsaken world, then Samantha Albright would welcome it with open arms.

2

The horrific images of the last 48 hours played on a never-ending loop. Holden Deckard's revelations, Prime Minister Troy emerging from the back of the truck. The firefight. Jordan. The truck spinning out of control. Rewind. Watch again. Rewind. Watch again. Sam begged for it to stop, but no end came. And then somewhere from far, far away there were voices

"We have to get her the fuck out of here, Doc."

"I'm aware of that, Eric."

The images faded and blurred and Sam fought to pull herself from the wreckage of her mind. She struggled to open her eyes but failed. The memory of Jordan lying on the ground, blood pouring from his chest, flashed through her mind. She tried to scream but couldn't.

"Has your team searched the wreckage?" Doc asked.

"No," Eric said. "Can't get to it. Too many of those brain-dead bastards to get close. Whatever was in the back of that truck has got them all worked up. We found this one about 50 yards from the site. We cleared the truck long enough to get the big guy out, but they swarmed and we had to fall back."

The image of Jordan faded, and another one appeared in its place. Holden, eyes wide and throat slit, spilled out of the back of the truck. Sam pushed the terrible thought away and tried to grasp what Eric had said. They got the big guy out. Cole was alive.

"Were you followed?" Doc asked.

"For about a quarter of a mile. One persistent bugger. No worries though. Xavier put a bullet through its head."

"Suppressed round, I hope."

"Of course."

"And you scanned the area for others before entering the compound?"

The voices grew louder. Clearer.

"You trying to tell me how to do my job, Doc?"

"No. My concern is the safety of my patients. Nothing more."

"Uh-huh. Why don't you leave the military operations to me and focus on getting these two
patients
the fuck out of here?"

The voices were crystal clear now, but so was the pain. Sharp pain pierced her body with each breath. She tried giving herself a quick assessment, letting the pain dictate her ailments. They had shoved a tube down her throat. Her lungs expanded with each hiss of the machine. Why didn't they let her die? Why did they save her?

Another breath. Another wave of pain.

Broken ribs.

Another breath. She held it for a moment. Her lung burned.

Possible punctured lung.

Another breath. Her chest ached.

Broken heart syndrome. Pre-existing condition.

Another breath.

"Where do you think they came from?" Eric asked.

A long pause.

"I'm not sure," Doc said. "It's hard to imagine the big one has missed any meals. This one is malnourished, but not like someone that's survived in the wastelands their whole life."

"They haven't been out there long. They had a goddamn truck for fuck's sake. A truck, Doc. I mean have you ever even seen a—"

"No," Doc interrupted. "Only in the archives. It's quite puzzling."

"Did you check the patch on the girl's coveralls?"

"Yes. Cross-referenced the maps from the old world. There's not a New Hope within 500 miles of here. Hope Valley was the closest thing I could find."

"Keep looking," Eric said. "The General will start asking questions soon."

"He already is," Doc said. "He was down here earlier."

"Why the fuck didn't you tell me?"

"You wanted me to stay out the military operations, remember?"

"Hardy fucking har, asshole. What did he want?"

"Well, it seems he's taken an interest in this one."

Sam's body tensed, and no longer fought to open her eyes. The urge to cough swelled inside her chest and her body trembled as she tried to fight it.

"You blame him?" Eric asked. "She's got a pair of tits on her that I would give my left nut to squeeze. They're real too. None of that silicon shit like you use."

An unseen hand ran up her thigh and stopped just short of her groin. Her stomach tightened and another wave of pain rocketed through her. She relaxed as much as possible but the thick layer of blanket that covered her leg felt paper thin.

"Tactful as always. Of course, I expect nothing less from you."

"Fuck you, Doc."

The hand rubbed up and down her thigh for only a moment before disappearing.

"Getting back to your original question, I do understand the General's attraction to her," Doc answered. "Aesthetically, her features are welcoming. She's quite exotic compared to the girls here. The General's sexual preference has always been to covet the fruits for which he hasn't tasted."

Sam cringed. A thick bubble of disgust and revulsion swelled in her stomach. Images of Troy pressing himself against her flashed through her mind.

"Coveted or not," Eric said, "you know he's not going to be happy that you're using this many medical supplies to keep a couple of stragglers alive. Especially the morphine."

"Would you rather I let them die?"

"No sweat off my back, man. How I see it, they're two more mouths to feed and we got way too many mouths as it is."

"Your compassion is overwhelming."

"Compassion has nothing to do with it. It's about survival. Always has been, always will be."

"Survival of the human species? Or just yourself?"

"Fuck you twice, Doc. There's plenty of trim to go around in this shithole. And the way upper-management keeps spreading its seed around, we'll have a workforce for decades. Hell centuries if we get the farm up and running again. Just because the General gets a hard-on for some piece doesn't mean we need to run through the pain killers like there's a morphine factory down the street."

"I think you're lacking the bigger picture, Eric."

"Which is?"

"These two drifters might have information on the state of the world up-top. What if there are more of them? What if the conditions outside have gotten better? We could leave this place. Start again."

"You haven't been outside lately," Eric scoffed. "There are more of those fucking mouth-breathers now than ever before. It's like they're multiplying or something."

"Perhaps they are."

"Exactly. Which means we don't have the goddamn resources to keep these two afloat. Patch 'em up and send 'em on their merry, Doc. If the General wants to get his tip wet in the process then so be it. Hell, I might even take a stab at his leftovers. But we have to move fast."

"I wouldn't be too hasty to discard these two like garbage. At the very least, the big one looks like he might have certain skills that could be—"

"Exploited," Eric interrupted.

"Utilized is the word I was looking for."

"I know all about the Midnight Runner project, you piece of shit. Trust me, exploited is the word that fits."

"Doc! Doc!" This was a different voice. One that spoke with a mixture of excitement and fear in his voice.

"What is it, Nelson?" Doc asked.

"The other one…he's awake."

A sense of relief washed over Sam. Cole was alive. He was awake. Relief passed and fear took over. Eric's words echoed through her head.
Exploited.
They didn't have much time and these people obviously didn't have their best intentions at heart. They had to leave and fast.

"Eric, meet me in the other's room. Nelson, inform the General." Doc's voice sounded closer to her now and Sam focused on steadying her breath. She heard footsteps fading away and assumed it was Nelson and Eric leaving to complete their assignment.

She was unsure the intentions of the men that watched over her. Eric's were obvious but Doc's seemed less clear. She couldn't trust him as an ally. Not yet. She pinched her eyes close as another set of footsteps approached.

A machine near her head beeped and a warm liquid flooded into her veins. The urge to sleep resurfaced at once and the pain ebbed. A comfort washed over her that begged her to sleep but her curiosity kept her from drifting into the darkness. She had to see her savior.

She dared to slit her eye. Between the dark lashes of her eyelid, she saw the needle sticking out of her arm and a piece of transparent tape holding it in place. Dozens of wires and tubes ran from her to unseen machines surrounding the bed. They had inserted a feeding tube into her stomach and a catheter between her legs. A dull panic washed over her, but the drugs flowing into her veins counteracted it at once. She was slipping.

She turned her head ever so slightly and caught her first glimpse of Doc. At first, it was only the back of a white lab coat, but as he turned, she saw the monster the man truly was.

His skin was nearly translucent and had been stretched and pulled tight. An unnatural small nose pierced the center of his face. His ears had been pinned back. Toxic green irises, set in unnatural oblong-shaped eyes, darted back and forth across the room.

Sam squeezed her eye closed again and fought the urge to scream. She focused on keeping her breaths steady and her heartbeat under control. As she waited for the malformed doctor to leave her side, she prayed the machines monitoring her vitals wouldn't give her away.

She squeezed her eyes even tighter. The darkness enveloped her and pulled her back into sleep. She felt herself falling once again and found the endless loop of nightmares that awaited her.