by Anna Abner
“You want to go up top?” he asked me, his eyes lighting up.
I shook my head. “I can’t find your thermometer.”
His expression fell. “It’s in the store room. I’ll get it for you. Just let me take care of these real quick.” He grabbed a cutting board and a knife on his way through the kitchen to the dumpster out back.
At the sight of the limp animal carcasses, Simone collected her spiked tea and ducked out of the kitchen.
Alone, I waited impatiently in the kitchen, staring at the entrance to the freezer, when something on the other side of the metal door rustled. It wasn’t the wind. Or rodents. Or roaches.
Ben was awake.
“Oh, no.” Time had gotten away from me. He was probably scared and in pain. I grabbed the kiddie meds and rushed into the walk-in.
I should have waited for Pollard, but I’d gotten so used to thinking of Ben as harmless that it didn’t occur to me he’d be anything else after injecting the antiserum.
He was upright and every inch a zombie with his red eyes and filthy, blood-stained clothes. He stopped whatever he’d been doing to stare at me. He’d untied himself from the shelf.
“Ben?” The word came out a croak from my dry, dry throat.
He advanced slowly, the soles of his heavy boots scraping the floor, his ruby colored eyes pinned to my face. Was Pollard right? Was Ben still a zombie, and his saying my name had been a fluke?
Had I brought a monster into our stronghold?
No. Not possible. Ben knew me. He had never hurt me. He was just confused and in pain.
I dropped the bottle and held up my hands in surrender. “It’s okay. You’re safe. Can you talk?”
“Mmmmayaaa,” he growled.
Something was different. He was different. I scrutinized his face, taking in the flush in his cheeks and the beads of sweat on his brow. The fever was high, but breaking. That was good news.
“How do you feel?”
He acted like he hadn’t heard me, but he advanced. In the cramped quarters he towered over me. I backed into the door I must have closed behind myself. I felt for the handle, but didn’t find it.
“You’re scaring me,” I admitted in a tiny voice. He wasn’t acting like the harmless zombie tagalong he’d been for the past few days. Right then he looked and sounded like a child’s nightmare come to life.
Ben’s hip brushed my waist as I flattened my spine against the closed freezer door. He laid one hand on either side of my head, and I turned away, my pulse pounding in double time.
“Please,” I said, afraid to move an inch, “don’t get any closer.”
He didn’t listen. Leaning in, he sniffed my throat in several long breaths.
“I can smell you.” His voice rumbled all the way to my core and shivers raced along both arms.
The door popped open, I squealed in surprise, and we tumbled backward, Ben on top of me. I looked up into Pollard’s shocked and furious expression. He didn’t wait for an explanation. He grabbed Ben and slung him across the floor. Pouncing, Pollard pinned Ben to the ground with one hand and punched him with the other.
“Stop,” I exclaimed, climbing to my hands and knees. “Don’t hurt him.”
“Don’t you ever put your hands on her,” Pollard exclaimed. He punched Ben in the face twice in rapid succession. “Ever.” He slugged him again.
Chapter Three
Pollard was under some hero illusion and had lost control. If he didn’t stop, he would kill Ben.
“Enough!” I tried to pull Pollard off. “You’re—”
Pollard hauled back his arm to hit Ben again, but his elbow clipped my jaw and, in surprise more than pain, I fell on my butt.
Like an animal, Ben made a guttural noise and attacked with skill and ferocity I hadn’t thought him capable of. In a second he had Pollard on the floor by the throat.
“Don’t,” Ben ground out, his speech thick and measured even as he squeezed the life out of his opponent. “Hurt. Maya.”
Oh, no.
Pollard struggled, his face darkening to deep purple.
“Ben,” I said, putting myself directly in front of him. His savage eyes met mine. “Let him go. He’ll die if you don’t.”
As if I’d scared him, Ben scuttled back against the shelves, rocking the entire metal structure.
“Tie me up,” he said in that gravelly voice.
Gladly. Pollard was right about Ben being too dangerous to run free.
But Pollard was too busy coughing his throat raw, so I stepped forward.
“Not you.” Ben pointed at my chest. “Stay back.”
I just stood there, confused. Never, not once, had Ben avoided me on our walk into Raleigh. On the contrary, he’d done everything he could to get near me.
And suddenly he wanted me to stay away?
“I’ll do it.” Pollard’s voice didn’t sound so smooth anymore, either, as he rummaged in the homemade first-aid kit for a roll of silver duct tape.
Ben pressed against the empty freezer shelves and let Pollard secure him to the sturdy frame, fastening his arms to his sides.
I turned away, searching for the dropped bottle of kids’ cold medicine. I didn’t approve of the arrangement. Ben’s health was still in jeopardy, and he didn’t need to be restrained like a criminal.
But the expression in his eyes when he’d pinned Pollard had scared me.
I tried to catch his gaze to reassure myself that he was okay. But he wouldn’t look at me. All I saw were his pale eyelids down over his red eyes and the dirt and blood splattered on his face.
“All done.” Pollard pulled me into the kitchen, barricading the door closed with a chair wedged under the handle. “Are you okay?”
I shook myself, but the image of Ben taped to the shelf wouldn’t go away. “What?”
“Your face. Did I hurt you?”
“No.” I gingerly probed my chin. It wasn’t even bruised. “You just scared me.”
“I didn’t mean to,” he said, dropping his voice. “I hate that I lost control. It’s that guy…”
“It was an accident,” I assured. And it was. Pollard would never hurt me on purpose. “It wasn’t your fault. Or his.”
“You’re okay? Really?” His hands gentled upon my skin. A soft touch along my jawline. A brush against my hair. He swallowed thickly, his gaze on my lips. Something in the air shifted, and I became aware of how near our bodies were.
“I’m fine.” My voice sounded throatier than normal.
He dipped his head and kissed me.
“He’s not going to hurt you,” Pollard said, drawing away a couple inches. “I promise.”
I palmed his chest, drinking in his strength. Soft as a feather, he covered my hands with his, dwarfing my fingers.
“Don’t go in there again,” he warned. “Not without me, you understand?”
I didn’t appreciate the insinuation that I couldn’t take care of myself. Being around Ben made me feel electrified in ways I’d never experienced before. And Pollard wanted to stay away? I didn’t know if I could.
“He’s my responsibility,” I said. Yes, Ben had scared me, but that didn’t mean he’d scared me off.
“Okay, Maya,” Pollard said softly. “Fine. The wild animal tied up in our house is your responsibility. But what’s your next move?”
“He’s not an animal,” I grumbled, withdrawing my hands and walking away.
Pollard chased me. “I’m serious. We can’t keep him locked in there forever. And there’s no way we can trust him. How long until he gets tired of the tape and hurts someone?”
“I’ll help him. First, I need to bring down his fever, and then determine the extent of his injuries.” My mind raced with all the possibilities and all the potential treatments.
“He can’t stay here,” he said. “Not the way he is.”
“He has to.” I twisted my fingers together so tight my knuckles cracked. Pollard couldn’t kick him out, yet. “He has my dad’s antiserum in his blood.”
I didn’t want to say it aloud to Pollard, but I wasn’t letting Ben out of my sight for a minute. If Pollard sent Ben away, then I was going, too.
“Exactly.” Pollard smiled. “So we need to get him to people who can pull it right back out.”
“Do you know anyone?” I inched nearer, hope making my heart beat faster. “Why didn’t you tell me?”
“It’s a nice thought, isn’t it? Imagine if we reproduce the antiserum and inject it into all those sick people out there? We could bring everyone back. We could fix this,” Pollard said, sounding a lot like my dad. “Doctors and chemists and people they probably have at Camp Carson.”
“I’m in,” I said. “As soon as Ben’s strong enough.” It was going to be a few more days of rest and care. A week at the most.
“He gets one night, and then we’re taking him to scientists who can analyze his blood and reverse engineer the cure.”
“That’s not enough time.” I glanced in the direction of the freezer. “He has a fever and who knows what other symptoms. He hasn’t drunk or eaten anything.”
Pollard’s jaw clenched. “One night.”
I sighed. No one wanted the cure synthesized and disseminated more than I did, but it wasn’t worth it if Ben didn’t survive the trip.
“Let me think about it and see whether he’s improving or not.”
Pollard relented, gesturing for me to go ahead into the main dining room.
Simone was waiting for us, her red-rimmed eyes full of unspoken accusation.
“Hello,” I greeted uncertainly.
“Who is that person?” she demanded. “Where is Russell? What is going on?”
I didn’t know how to answer. So much had gone awry in the last few days. Russell was dead. We’d found my dad’s elixir. And Ben had injected it.
Luckily, Pollard answered first. “Russell’s gone,” he said. “I’m so sorry, Simone. There was nothing I could do.”
Despite her hold on the stainless steel counter, her knees wobbled. “What? No.” Tears welled, inspiring sympathetic pinprick tears of my own.
Pollard drew her against his chest, cooing words of sympathy. “Simone, it’s going to be okay.”
I wiped at my eyes, overwhelmed by everything I had been through. Russell. Ben. Seeing my dad’s ruined and empty lab… Grief rolled through me, fresh and sharp.
“How?” she cried.
“Zombies,” Pollard answered.
“Who is that man in the freezer?” Something fired behind Simone’s amber eyes. “He killed Russell, didn’t he? You brought him here to punish him?” She shoved away from Pollard and staggered for the walk-in. She was amazingly spry for a drunken person. She was inside the freezer before I could stop her.
“I’ll kill you!” She launched herself at Ben, swinging her arms in giant haymaker slaps, smacking him, the shelves, even the floor.
“Simone!” Pollard shielded her from Ben.
But Ben wasn’t fighting back. He’d curled up, protecting his head.
I stepped forward to help when he looked up at me from under his lashes, surprise showing in his eyes. And something like acceptance. As if he deserved it.
My emotions rioted. “Leave him alone,” I snapped.
He didn’t deserve a beating, no matter what he’d done. Infected, or not.
“Are you nuts?” Pollard dragged both of us females out of the walk-in and secured the door. “He’s a Red. He could have killed you.”
“I don’t care,” Simone wailed.
“New house rule,” he said in his very annoying five-star-general voice. “No one opens this door without my permission.”
“You can’t—” I started.
But Pollard talked right over me. “I’m serious. He’s dangerous.”
I didn’t argue any further, but I didn’t accept his new rule, either.
After a moment of sobbing into her palms, Simone fled and disappeared into the convenience store’s back room.
“She’s not doing so great,” Pollard said under his breath, all the starch seeping out of him once the other woman was gone.
“She was drinking.” In case he hadn’t smelled it.
“I know.” He slipped his hand in mine and quietly studied our twined fingers. “It wasn’t easy on her, staying here by herself. Let’s give her some time to settle down.”
I squeezed his fingers and then released him. “Will you have a memorial for Russell?”
“Yeah.” He sighed as if exhausted. “When things calm down a little. Maybe tonight. Right now, help me prep dinner and beds, okay?”
Pollard didn’t need my assistance in the kitchen, not really. He was amazingly talented with simple ingredients and an open fire. So I focused on making sleep pallets.
While we’d been in Raleigh, Simone had rearranged some of the benches they used for beds, so I pulled two away from the rest and layered comforters and winter coats for Pollard and Hunny to sleep on.
Then, since I was already in cleaning mode, I sorted laundry and swept the floor before facing the problem of where to spend the night. It was almost dark.
Before we left I’d made myself a bed in the walk-in freezer in the kitchen. It had reminded me of the panic room I’d slept in at home. But Ben was in there recuperating. We couldn’t exactly share.
Then I spotted the tent Pollard had picked up for us along the way and a bunch of other gear and backpacks by the side doors.
Pleased with the compromise, I set up the plastic dome in a corner near the diner’s hostess stand. I’d be snug as a bug, and if I closed my eyes I could pretend it was home.
I called out to Pollard, “I’m going up to the roof for a couple minutes.”
“Be careful,” he called back.
The sun was nearing the western horizon, but it was still hot outside. I sidestepped the survival gear and the painted SOS message and stood at the edge surveying the area as far as I could see.
From habit, my eyes scanned for the figure of a lone Red before I reminded myself Ben wasn’t following me anymore.
I pulled the photo from my pocket and stared at my face as if I were seeing some other person. I hardly recognized the girl in the photo with her sparkly eyes and pink cheeks. Her hair was blown out and flat-ironed. She had make-up on and tiny bejeweled flower earrings.
It was hard to remember life the way it had been for that version of myself because things had changed so much. I put the photo in my pocket and trudged toward the ladder to the main floor below.
During a scheduled family phone call over the winter, Mason had mentioned receiving the photo around Christmastime. So, how had Ben gotten hold of it?
I didn’t want to jump to conclusions until I talked to him.
The hatch swung open and Pollard poked his head above the roofline. “Dinner’s almost ready,” he said. “Everything okay?”
“I’m fine.”
He helped me down, and for a moment my body pressed against his. “Thank you,” I whispered. My chest tightened, but in a good way.
“Hungry?” he asked, his eyes twinkling as he smiled.
Smiling back, I bobbed my head.
“Can we eat now?” Hunny asked the moment she spotted us downstairs. “Please? I’m starving.”
Chuckling, Pollard served spaghetti with wild game sauce in a big bowl in the center of a table for four. I must have been hungrier than I’d realized because I ate a lot and I ate it fast.
Hunny coughed loudly, sniffled, and then coughed again.
“You feeling okay?” I asked. “Here. Take a drink.” I offered her my untouched bottle of flavored water.
“My throat hurts,” she explained.
Pollard leaned over and pressed his palm to her forehead. “She doesn’t feel hot.”
“It’s probably nothing,” I concurred. Kids got sick all the time.
As I scraped the last bit of red sauce from my plate, Pollard spoke up. “Simone, the guy in the freezer?” He glanced at me as if asking permission to continue. I nodded once.
“He used to be infected with 212R.”
“I have eyes,” she countered in a snotty voice, and then burped behind her hand.
“But he took a cure,” Pollard continued. “And we’re all going to Camp Carson first thing in the morning. Russell thought there were doctors there.”
Hunny sat up straighter. “We’re leaving again?”
“What?” Simone’s mouth popped wide. “That’s insane.”
“It’s true,” Pollard said. “If we can find doctors to help us, we can copy the antiserum inside him.”
“You remember Russell’s flyer,” I chimed in. “The one that said there was an evacuation to Camp Carson in Virginia? It’s why he painted the S.O.S. on the roof.”
Simone laughed loudly, a crack in the quiet of the room. “Yep. You’re all nuts.” She shook her head at Hunny as if they were the only sane people at the table. “We have a safe place to live with enough food and water to last for months and you want to turn around and go wandering around hunting for doctors?” She twisted and peered under the table. “Yoo-hoo. Any doctors down there?”
“What else are we supposed to do?” Pollard said, his tone sharp. “Nothing?”
“You want to take a half-wild zombie to Camp Carson?” she countered.
“Stop calling him that,” I snapped. “He speaks. He thinks. He’s not a zombie.”
Simone turned on me, her face flushed pink. “His eyes are red. And I haven’t seen him eat cheese and crackers, have you?” She jabbed a thick finger at me, but spoke to Pollard. “Following this chick around has caused us nothing but grief. Shelly died finding her. Russell died finding her precious cure. And if you go with her to Virginia, you’re going to die, too.” Her voice broke, and she dropped her gaze. “I’m staying here.”
“It’s not safe on your own,” Pollard countered.
“I don’t care. You’re not my boss, Pollard Datsik. I’m older than you. And I’m staying here.” As if that settled it, she pushed away from the table and stormed off.
I certainly wasn’t going to chase her down and argue. I didn’t want anything to happen to the woman, but we weren’t exactly friends. And her drinking was a liability I didn’t know how to handle.
