“You’re saying this is my fault?” said Lucy.
“Everything’s your fault, Young. You’re a ruiner. Ever since I found you on that miserable hillbilly backroad you’ve brought nothing but chaos,” said Lopez.
“Really? Then who saved your sorry ass from the Queen? If I hadn’t come back, she’d have killed you, remember? Tortured you first,” said Lucy.
“It’s your fault I was even there! God dammit I should’ve left you at the mall – let that mob of civilians overrun you. No – I should’ve followed my instincts way before that. I should’ve ditched you when you fell asleep on one pitiful shift of night watch. But I was weak – I felt sorry for you, Young, I wanted to help you. I thought I could show you how to adapt, how to become the soldier you need to be. Boy was I wrong. Worse than that, not only have you failed to become any kind of soldier, but you’ve killed good soldiers along the way. Dead people, wherever you go. You got Jackson killed. You sent Rangecroft on a suicide mission. Come to think of it, you say you killed all those guys on the farm – you say they attacked you. Was it really that way round? I see a pattern of behavior in you, Young, and I’m wondering how far back the trail goes,” said Lopez.
Lucy swallowed as each dead face flashed across her mind. The harder she tried to dismiss them, the more vivid their memories became. The father she’d shot in New York, Jackson, Whitaker, Rangecroft, Kerman’s gang, the boy, the survivors from the train wreck, Dan –
Nausea swept over her. There was a ringing in her ears. Lopez was shouting at her, but his words were a blur. She slumped against the van and cradled her head as he ranted.
“Are you even listening to me? Christ!” he proclaimed, slamming the hood again, making Lucy start.
She scrambled to her feet and stared at him, her eyes wild. Lopez looked gaunt. The skin on his face was becoming blotchy – the first signs of fresh lesions.
“Are you even going to defend yourself? Do you even care?” demanded Lopez.
“Of course I care!” yelled Lucy, fuming. “I saved Jackson, I gave her the–”
“Powder, right. That god damned poison you made us eat. Every damned situation, you make things worse. It almost seems willful. Have you gone off people, is that it?” said Lopez.
Lucy’s fists clenched.
“Maybe if you’d spent four months–” began Lucy.
“Christ, Young, it really is all about you, isn’t it? Is your selfishness just genetic, or did you choose to be this way?” said Lopez.
Lucy swallowed as memories of her father and mother clashed in her mind.
“My mom’s somewhere in this city. If we find her, you can ask her yourself,” she snapped.
“Your mom’s here? Of course she is. Of course she is. It couldn’t have just been about getting the cure, oh no – because we could almost certainly have gotten that in DC. But hey, why bother telling me before we set off? Christ, it’s like everything you do is designed to shit on the people around you,” growled Lopez.
“That is so unfair. If it wasn’t for me, you’d be dead already. I could’ve run – on that first mission for the Queen, you know? I could’ve abandoned you and saved myself, but no, I came back for you. I come back for people,” said Lucy, spitting.
“You came back because you owed me, Young. You rescuing that sniveling Canadian – against my orders – is the whole reason we ended up in that insanity. I’ve seen what you do to the people around you, and it sure isn’t help them. The only thing you care about is wiping the blood off your hands. If only I’d let that mob take you, Jackson would still be alive. Or maybe I should’ve carried on running in that forest. Why in hell’s name I surrendered to save you, I’ll never know,” said Lopez.
“I helped Jackson. I helped both of you,” fumed Lucy, her muscles tensing as Dan’s face clawed at her mind.
“Bullshit! You’re a curse, Young, and one of these days, you’re gonna have to explain why it is that everyone around you seems to die,” shouted Lopez.
Lucy screamed and threw herself at Lopez, catching him off guard. She tackled him to the ground and pounded him with her fists; kneeing him, kicking, tearing at his hair as the rage poured out of her. Lopez fought off her pummeling and rolled her off, tussling for control.
“You murdering piece of shit,” grunted Lopez, pinning her down. He clamped her between his legs and grabbed her throat with both hands.
“Liar,” choked Lucy, grabbing his hair and pulling with all her might.
She tore out a clump. As Lopez howled, his grip slackened just enough for Lucy to capitalize. She seized his right hand and bit down hard. With his left hand he punched her in the ribs. Lucy gasped, unclenching her jaw. Lopez snatched his bitten hand away. He punched her hard in the face, striking her right eye and causing her vision to blur. She stared at the blue sky overhead and felt a sense of tranquility, as Lopez’s silhouette loomed over her once again, his fist balled up, ready to strike.
Lucy felt his legs slacken. The vice-like grip binding her eased and Lopez slumped to the ground. Lucy disentangled herself from him and crawled to her knees. He was unconscious. She panted, catching her breath, as she scrambled away from him. She rose to her knees, but as she reached for her gun, a dizziness swept over her. As she collapsed to the ground, the last thing she saw was Lopez’s face, pressed into the tar.
***
Lucy blinked her eyes open. She was in someone’s lounge. It was tidy. Sunlight peeked through the drawn curtains. The sound of metal on metal drew her attention to the far corner, where a man sat, sharpening a knife. Lucy flinched, expecting to have to fight to free herself – but her hands were unbound.
“Oh, you’re up,” said the man, setting the knife down and standing up. His tone was flat. He wore a deep violet boiler suit, covered in oily stains. The suit was padded in an uneven fashion by layers of clothing beneath. The man was around forty. He had a short grey beard. Bags hung under his eyes, and his cheeks were thin.
Lucy recoiled, drawing her legs towards her. She was on a brown leather couch. It felt soft, and squeaked as she moved.
“That’s gonna come up like a peach,” said the man, pointing towards her fat eye.
The man’s eyelids hung low, his expression a mixture of weariness and cynicism.
“Where’s Lopez?” said Lucy.
“Your friend? In the guest room. He looked worse than you so I put him on the bed,” said the man
“Who are you?” said Lucy.
“Jay,” said the man.
Lucy nodded, as if that had answered the question.
“Did you bring us here?” she asked.
“I found you both passed out on the street. Couldn’t just leave you there – not safe,” said Jay, shaking his head.
“Is this your house?” said Lucy.
“One of them. You had the good fortune to pass out on my corner. Which is lucky, because I couldn’t have dragged you much more. I get weak, like you,” said the man, pulling his collar down to reveal lesions across his neck.
“Why did you help us?” said Lucy,
“Us folk gotta stick together,” said Jay.
He fetched a sports bottle from the counter.
“Thirsty?” he said, holding it out for Lucy.
She eyed the bottle up.
“It’s water,” he added, taking a demonstrative sip.
Lucy accepted the bottle gratefully and swigged from it. It tasted faintly salty.
“Is this seawater?” said Lucy.
“Freshly desalinated. The store was out of sparkling,” said Jay.
Lopez entered from the adjacent room, squinting like a teenager awaking reluctantly on a Monday morning.
“Hey, everyone’s up, how about that,” said Jay, clapping his hands.
“Who the fuck are you?” said Lopez, leaning against the doorframe, massaging his back.
“He’s Jay, he’s infected,” said Lucy.
“What’s up,” said Jay.
“How long was I out?” said Lopez
.
“Couple of hours,” said Jay.
“We need to find the doctor – can you take us to her?” said Lucy.
“That’s not really how it works. She comes to us. There’s a group not far from here. You can wait with them. She’s due to visit. Do you guys feel up to moving again?”
Lucy rose to her feet and waited for her head to settle, then nodded.
“How far?” said Lopez.
“Couple of miles, but we gotta move discreetly. If I say freeze, you guys freeze. If I say hide, you hide. You got me?” said Jay.
“I can do that. It’s her you should worry about,” said Lopez.
Lucy took another swig of the salty water then passed it to Lopez without looking at him. He scoffed, but took it and drank. Lucy checked her holster – she still had her pistol. She grabbed her backpack from the side of the couch, while Jay slung an air rifle over his shoulder.
***
They kept close to Jay as he led them through the suburbs, beneath the clear sky and the faint warmth of the spring sun. He took them on a circuitous route, never staying on one street for more than a few blocks. He checked every junction they reached, and looked behind often.
Lucy studied the name of every passing street, checking to see if it was her mother’s. Part of her was hoping her mother’s home was buried deep within the walled community – sheltered from the ‘quarantine zone’ – but she knew this was impossible; the zone was in the south and her mom lived somewhere in the north of the city. She couldn’t remember the exact district, but she knew the street name. As they traipsed through the unfamiliar city, Lucy felt a continuous anxiety she might be passing it by, leading to numerous false dawns. The repeated disappointment was, at least, tempered by the desolation of the streets themselves. Broken windows, unkempt drives, strewn litter. She wanted desperately to abandon the mission, pinpoint her mom and go straight there to pour out her soul, forgive the wretched woman and feel loved again. But she needed the medication. If she lost the doctor now, when she was so close, who knows if she’d ever find her again? So Lucy bit her lip and stayed focused on the immediate goal, once again suppressing the wrenching desire to connect with the last of her family.
“You see that?” said Lopez, after a mile’s walking.
She followed his gaze to a side street. The corner building had a large black cross painted at eye level – as did the building across from it.
“That’s bad news,” said Jay, with a grim look. He swiveled his rifle into position, took off the safety, and moved towards the street.
“We’re going in?” said Lucy.
“Be ready,” said Jay.
“For what?” hissed Lopez, drawing his pistol.
Lucy eyed up the buildings around them. Clifford Street, read the sign. A couple of homes had barricaded windows, a few others were smashed. Most had their curtains drawn. The houses were beautiful – quaint, old-fashioned detached buildings – but the vandalism and ragged lawns, covered in rotting leaves and fallen branches, confirmed their desertion.
Jay stopped moving. He held his fist up to the others to copy. Lucy peered around him at the hold up. Ahead to the right, a large house had a stone wall at the boundary between its garden and the sidewalk. The wall was around two feet high, and had a hedgerow growing above it. But the wall was broken; several sections of it had been pulverized and lay in ruin, with shards of rubble spewing onto the sidewalk.
“Oh my God,” said Lopez, drawing her attention to the house directly opposite the wall.
Lucy’s stomach churned. Tied to a lamppost was the body of a man. His faced was pulverized and bloody, as were his chest and limbs. All around him lay large, jagged stones the size of bricks. Hung around his battered neck was a wooden board with one word written across it in large, black capitals: SINNER.
“What happened?” said Lucy, queasily.
“The Faithful. They think our disease is a punishment from God. They call this ‘absolution’,” said Jay, gesturing to the rocks.
“We should get away from here – the creatures will track it by nightfall,” said Lucy.
“What creatures?” said Jay, giving Lucy a puzzled look.
“The beasts – whatever you call them. We don’t wanna be around when they turn up. We don’t know enough about this ‘immunity’ to rely on it, especially when we’re getting weaker,” said Lucy.
“You lost me,” said Jay.
“Wait, you really don’t have beasts here?” said Lucy, in astonishment.
“We have the Faithful. You could call them that,” said Jay.
“Who are they?” said Lopez.
“They’re the biggest group of survivors in Boston,” said Jay.
“You’re telling me the survivors in this city want to be part of a group that does that?” said Lucy, gesturing to the mutilated bodies.
“Believe it or not, in many ways they’re an improvement on their predecessors. Everyone flocked to them when they outlawed the unspeakables,” said Jay.
“The ‘unspeakables’?” said Lucy.
“Jeez, you guys really don’t know anything, huh?” said Jay.
“TripAdvisor was down when we set off,” said Lopez, without smiling.
“The virus wiped out most of the city, and after that there was just chaos. No law, no order. There were just groups of survivors stealing, fighting, and looting from each other, and that’s how winter started. The supplies left across the city began to run out, and we’d already eaten all the dogs and rodents. There was only one source of meat left,” said Jay.
“Jesus Christ,” said Lopez, gravely.
“No-one wanted it. It started out as just eating those who had passed naturally – while they were still safe to eat. But that’s a difficult window; to find a recently-deceased body and do so before anyone else. So people started killing the weakest people for food. In the first weeks, a lot of folk refused to be part of it – but their abstinence only made them weaker, while the unspeakables grew stronger. The stronger they got, the bolder they became, and they started hunting more openly. Groups of hunters soon turned into tribes, as people rushed to join them before they fell victim. Of course, once the limited supply of weak humans had been eaten, there were only strong, hungry cannibals left roaming the city. So the cannibals turned on each other, attacking rival tribes, and preying on the weakest in their own packs. The tribes began to collapse, and that’s when the Faithful arrived – bringing grain supplies for survivors, and ‘eradicating the scourge of the unspeakables’,” said Jay.
“So they’re not from Boston?” said Lucy.
“From what I’ve heard, the leader was a farmer from out of town. His grain stores supported the community through winter, and people became loyal to him because of it – seeking him out, even. He and his followers heard what was happening in Boston and decided it was their divine mission to purge the city of sin,” said Jay.
“So other survivors in Boston converted to the Faithful?” said Lucy.
“Very quickly – once word got out that the newcomers had grain and weren’t gonna eat you, well, the case for joining sold itself,” said Jay.
“Except that they’re barbarians,” said Lopez, pointing to the bloodied corpses.
“It’s all relative. As long as you’re not the one being stoned, then what’s not to like?” said Jay, grimacing.
“Were you in a tribe?” said Lucy, warily.
“Jeez guys, I’m not gonna eat you – we’re on the same side,” said Jay.
“This group – the ‘Faithful’ – can no-one stop them?” said Lopez.
“Why would anyone stop them? Most people are them. The only other two communities big enough to take them on don’t want to – those pious hypochondriac assholes behind the wall don’t care about anyone outside the wall, and the police have barricaded them and theirs inside a prison, so there’s no reaching them either. Both sides know we’re being hunted, and they don’t care.”
“Cowards. No honor,” spat Lope
z.
“Meh, I get it. What’s worse, some people stoning a leper to death, or catching leprosy yourself? They’re all scared of the disease, see, and if a homicidal religious group happens to spring up and eradicate the outbreak before springtime, then isn’t that just swell? Of course, I personally don’t wish to be eradicated, so thank god for the doctor. If she can keep us going long enough to figure out a cure, we’ll have a community of our own. We’re getting stronger with treatment, bit by bit. Speaking of, we should keep moving,” said Jay, glancing around and setting off at a brisk pace.
“How did you get infected?” said Lucy, marching to keep up.
“No idea. I woke up one day with weird marks on my skin and the group freaked. They kicked me out,” said Jay.
“How many people were in your group?” said Lopez.
“A dozen. I reckon there are a lot of small groups like that across the city – friends that laid low through winter, played it smart. How did you guys get infected?” said Jay.
“Why don’t you tell him, Young? Tell Jay how we got infected,” said Lopez.
They traipsed on for several more yards.
“We made a mistake,” said Lucy, staring at the ground.
***
It was another mile before they reached the safe house. Jay peeled off onto a street that looked indistinguishable from the others. More boarded up windows and overturned trash cans. Jay led them through the yard of a detached house, and down the side passage into the back garden. He delivered a coded knock upon the door.
A finger pulled back the blind and an eye peeped out. Jay waved. The blind fell back into place and the door opened.
“Who they?” demanded the woman.
“They’re like us,” said Jay, stepping into the kitchen.
“You mean hungry?” said the diminutive woman, sternly. Her eyebrows were painted on, and she wore large hoop earrings.
“I’ve brought food,” said Jay.
“Mmm-hmm,” said the woman, watching as Jay swiveled off his backpack and pulled out a stack of large, damp-looking leaves.
“Again?” said the woman.
“Ada, There was nothing else,” said Jay.
“You guys eat that?” said Lopez.
Convulsive Box Set Page 43
