PANDORUM

by N. M. Black

  Pushing through the front doors of the clinic I jump on my ATV and take off towards my cabin. It gets dark early in the winter, so the trip is a little tricky, especially since my head is nowhere near the winding path in front of me.

  The ATV barely coming to a stop as I swing my leg over, heading straight up the stairs and to my liquor cabinet. I open the bottle closest to me and take a long hard swig, relishing the burn as I swallow. I welcome the numbness that follows every sip. Another sip and slowly, I feel it flow through my veins, making my limbs feel heavier and heavier.

  I’ve already drank half the bottle, but it’s doing nothing to quell the pain and anger that is consuming what little of my sanity I have left. I feel like I’m drowning. My life a perpetual wave crashing over my head again and again as the storm continues to rage on.

  I take another swig from the bottle and images begin playing out like I’m watching a movie of the life I used to have. The life that she took away from me. Birthdays, anniversaries, barbeques and all the things yet to come. All of it. Gone. GONE! Just like them.

  I drink the rest of that bottle and start on the next, doing everything I can, not to think of them. Any of them. But nothing I do can stop the images from coming.

  Lifting the bottle, I take another swig, but this time I barely have the chance to set it down before I start to black out. My vision blurring, wind whooshing through my ears and the darkness finally taking hold and dragging me under.

  But I still see their faces. And now, I see hers too.

  I try to blink my eyes open, but they feel like they’re made of lead. My head throbbing so loudly, I try to reach up and quell the pain but can’t seem to muster enough energy to lift my hand more than a few inches.

  Focusing, I start to move my hands slowly across the soft blankets below my fingers, and I groan in disappointment. It’s just a dream.

  It’s been a long time since I’ve felt the luxury of a blanket, or the feeling of having a soft mattress below me, so even though I know it’s not real, I still enjoy remembering the feel of fabric beneath my fingers.

  I sigh and cling to the illusion running through my head, not ready to give it up yet. I don’t want to go back to reality where I’m running for my life or taking a life. I don’t want to go back to the feeling of hunger or despair. I don’t want to go back and see the faces of the lives I’ve taken or hear the voices of the ones that still haunt me wherever I go. I don’t want to go back to being a prisoner, or a fetch dog or worse.

  As my mind plays on a continuous loop, the memory of waking up Saturday mornings, in a big plush bed with a bunch of pillows and a fluffy duvet. I begin to notice sounds breaching my subconscious and putting a damper on my fantasy.

  A steady beep that has an almost calming rhythm, coming from somewhere beside me. The distant sound of people talking. They sound upset given their tone, although I can’t be sure since I can’t make out exactly what they’re saying.

  Again, I try to move but don’t get far. So, I focus on doing small things first. When I can finally manage to prop one eye open, I glance around to realize that I’m in a hospital room.

  Panic starts to settle in and I try to sit up, immediately becoming lightheaded. I reach up with both hands to cradle it, hoping to ease the pain and get it under control before someone comes. I must get out of here before it’s too late.

  Suddenly a tall woman with dark hair all tied on top of her head, comes strolling in holding a metal clipboard and wearing a white coat and a stethoscope.

  “Oh good, you’re awake. How do you feel?” The woman asks, genuinely curious. She steps forward, cupping my chin and shines a light in each of my eyes. I flinch at the brightness and pull my head out of her grasp.

  “My name is Dr. Tanner. I’m sorry, but you don’t have ID on you, so you’ve been ‘Jane Doe’ to us. Do you remember your name?” She tries again.

  I’ve done this song and dance and been on both sides of the conversation. I don’t know this woman, and I don’t trust her. I have no idea where I am but based on the facility and the fact that it’s still operational, I’m betting this is some branch of government. And that means nothing good for me.

  Quickly coming to the conclusion that I won’t be answering her questions, she continues her one-sided conversation.

  “You hit your head and have a pretty bad concussion. You’ve been unconscious for about a day. I also stitched up your leg from the bullet wound Rivers gifted you with.” She finishes with a hint of annoyance in her voice.

  Then it all comes flooding back.

  Running through the field from the herd of infected.

  The man with the rifle, who shot me.

  And the man I owe my life to, for saving me.

  I make my way to the hospital after getting notice that she is awake. The whiskey has done nothing to help my thoughts racing or quell the anger still boiling about this woman being back in my life. In fact, the only thing it did do was give me one hell of a fucking hangover, which is definitely not improving my mood in the least.

  Grey is already here taking her statement. Trying to get some background info on this woman before we make our decision whether to let her stay in the community or not. I don’t need to hear some bullshit story to know what my decision is.

  Coming to a stop outside her room, I watch from the hall as Grey sits in a chair beside the bed and calmly takes notes. He nods his head a few times and says a few words that I can’t make out from here.

  It really bothers me that I’m not privy to their conversation. Not because I’m jealous that Grey has spoken to her first, or that she smiles at him with those fat lips I wanted to have on me. But because he doesn’t know what she is capable of and if she’s telling the truth.

  Never trust a survivor until you find out what they did to survive.

  I know Grey. He wants to believe there is good in everyone and strongly believes innocent until proven guilty. There is no good in a person who can shoot a child and not be affected.

  I head to the board room, no longer able to stand looking at her, my body's negative and possessive reactions to her presence too great to suppress. Seeing some of the rest of the security team here, as well as Dr. Tanner, doesn’t settle the anxiety that is starting to build in my chest about this whole damn thing. About having that woman here.

  I take my usual seat closest to the window to keep an eye out and wait for Grey to come give us his report. What I don’t expect is for him to come strolling in with her limping on his arm, as if they were best friends.

  What the fuck does he think he’s doing? I sit up ready to ask, when he starts talking right away, pinning me in my seat with a glare.

  “Good afternoon everyone, I’d like to introduce Adira, and ask that everyone listen to what she has to say before we start bombarding her with questions. I know this isn’t typically how we do things, but given the circumstances, I’ve made an exception.” Turning he glances in my direction after that last comment.

  Grinding my teeth at the sound of her name on his lips, I push down the wave of jealousy that threatens to surface. Just being in the same room with her has my body going berserk. I fidget in my seat because I can’t think of anything to do to help stave off the need to lunge at her. I haven’t felt a damn thing about anything or anyone in a year, and now this. Of all people, it has to be her.

  And I loathe myself for it.

  I lean forward prepared to hear everything she has to say and then send her packing before she brings forth anymore chaos.

  “My name is, or was, Sgt Adira MacNair. I know that being in the army doesn’t quite hold the same value it once did, but I’m hoping, being that you’re former military yourselves, that you might not be so quick to turn me away like many others.”

  I don’t want to address her. Hell, I don’t even want to look at her, but for some fucked up reason, I can’t take my damn eyes off her. I clear my throat as I gather my thoughts and ask the same question everyone else is wondering.
>
  “How do you know we are ex-military?”

  “I saw your training speak for itself out there in the clearing. Having grown up in and been a part of military my whole life, I am quite confident in my observation. I also know, that there is a group of ex-militaries not far from here, that are planning to take all of your supplies.”

  “Exactly how do you know this?” I ask, truly curious. I mean, it would explain how our fence was cut last night, and the attack being perfectly timed. But how do we know she isn’t part of the group, pretending to warn us so we let our guard down, giving her the access she needs to let them in. We don’t know this woman from a fucking hole in the ground. And I don’t want to.

  Calmly she continued, “While taking shelter in an old warehouse, a group of men came in. They were talking about a large group of people who took over Base Borden and had managed to acquire a large stash of goods. By letting in large groups of zombies and slowly taking down your defenses, they remove you as a threat and take what’s left.” She states matter of fact.

  It really grates my nerves that she is so calm about the possibility of innocent lives being at risk. But honestly, what did I expect coming from her?

  “You can’t be serious? You’re not actually listening to her, are you?” I ask incredulously. “We don’t know this woman. What we do know is, our fence was damaged last night and today one of the largest herds of walkers and sprinters comes through, with her leading the fucking charge. For all we know, she could be with them and tricking us into trusting her.” I respond darkly at the nonsense this woman is feeding us.

  I turn to look directly at Grey, but I can already see the resolution on his face. He believes her. I growl in annoyance, as I stand throwing out my arms and knocking my chair back into the wall behind me.

  “I’m not lying!” She practically shouts as she shoots up from her chair. A spark of annoyance laces her tone. And fuck me, if I don’t get hard at the thought of her fighting back.

  I can see Grey look at me out of the corner of my eye, but I don’t take mine off Adira. Even her name has a spark forming in my gut. Her voice practically purring when she speaks, and I can’t think of anything other than what it would sound like when she moaned.

  She lifts her head to meet my gaze head on. Even as I glare at her, trying to make my hatred towards her known, she still holds my stare. Red graces her cheeks making her look innocent, but I know better. I know deep down that there’s an evil there that rivals the devil himself.

  “I know you don’t know or trust me, and I understand that.” Glancing at me, ”I deserve that. But you have to believe me, I am here to warn you. They are coming.”

  I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. Fuck, I really want to believe she’s telling the truth, but I can’t get past what she is capable of. Everyone else bought her heartfelt plea, but I saw it for what it was. Her tacit acknowledgement of what happened in the past letting me know she knows who I am.

  I hate this woman. I hate her for what she took from me, even if I know it had to be done. I hate her for ruining my life the first time, and now she seems to be on track for an encore.

  But mostly, I hate the fact I can’t decide if I want to kill her or fuck her.

  Either way it will end with my hands around her throat.

  Walking into that room I didn’t know what to expect but seeing the man whose daughter I was forced to kill in the beginning, was not it. The moment his eyes landed on mine, I knew he knew. The air became charged so palpably that I could feel its energy skating across my skin.

  I knew I was coming in here to face their incredulity and Grey had tried to talk me out of it multiple times, but I need them to hear me out. Not that that is happening, as they continue to throw question after question at me, not really giving me time to answer.

  “I can help you.” I try again to make them understand that I’m not here out of malicious intent.

  “How can you help us?” One of the men sneer in my direction.

  “Sgt? Are you with a unit?” the man named Tripp asks me.

  I can see the doubt on his face. I realized that most of them are previously military and thought that by stating I was once one of them, they wouldn’t be so wary of me. Turns out I was sadly mistaken.

  “I was separated during an attack and haven’t found them again.” I’m not really lying, however it’s not the full truth either. They don’t need to know that it was me who attacked them or why.

  I don’t know these people and I don’t trust them anymore than they trust me. I will only give them what information they need. Nothing more, nothing less.

  I glance across the table at the man everyone calls Rivers, and the man whose hatred I deserve. I don’t remember him being that big and imposing, with broad shoulders. A beard covers most of his face, masking his permanent scowl, but his squint is unmissable. I could have sworn he was married, but I don’t see a wedding ring on his finger. But to be honest, the only memory I have of him is the one memory I try to block out the most.

  His eyes haven’t left mine since I walked in the room. It’s unnerving but it’s also comforting. I can’t explain how or why, but I feel a little more at ease in his presence.

  Which, judging by the looks he’s giving me and his attitude towards me, I shouldn’t. I can feel the tension and heat rolling off of him and I think everyone else in the room is aware as well, making sure to keep a safe distance from him.

  As I sit and wait while they talk amongst themselves or for someone to address me directly, I can’t help but remember the little girl. Wearing the same piercing blue eyes that she shares with her dad and the same eyes I was forced to put a bullet between.

  I shake off the vivid memory my mind has conjured, because surely nothing good can come of it. But I still see the little girl standing there next to her father. I’m almost positive she’s not really there, but I’m not actually sure if it’s my imagination playing tricks on me or if I’m really seeing dead people now.

  A year ago, I would have said that sounded crazy. A year ago, I would have also said there is no such thing as zombies, but here we are.

  “Come on Rivers. You gotta at least be prepared in the case that she ain’t wrong and someone comes kicking in our front door. Don’t get me wrong, she may be bat shit crazy, but after what you told me about the fence and the group of walkers, we have to at least look into what she’s saying.” Another man that’s been quiet this whole time, suddenly chimes in, making me start a little. Truly, I can’t even be pissed he called me bat shit crazy, because truth be told, I’m not so sure anymore.

  Rivers is looking at me strangely, as if he noticed my little interaction with the ghost of his daughter standing beside him. I risk a glance at the little girl again, but she’s gone. He shivers, then looks in the direction of the ghost, most likely trying to determine what has my attention.

  He turns back and stares at me with narrowed eyes, while answering the man’s question. “I don’t trust her. Until we know what’s really going on and until we know if she is stable enough to be in the community, she stays locked up.” Rivers replies.

  They all nod as though his word is final. Hell, maybe it is, but with his words, relief pours over me at the thought of being inside where it’s warm. Even if it means being in a cell.

  “I still need to keep her here for another day or two to make sure she’s ok and everything is healing. You can take her to a cell once I’ve discharged her. Until then, one of your men is welcome to stay and watch over her.” Dr. Tanner says as she stands and leaves the room, not waiting for a response from anyone.

  I look back to Rivers, but he is already up and making his way out of the room, Tripp following right on his heels. Turning my attention away from Rivers, I see Grey is watching me closely. Too Closely.

  “Come on, I’ll take you back to your room.” He says as he offers his arm to steady me. I’m not completely disabled, but I am severely limping at this point, thanks to Rivers’ bullet tha
t pierced my thigh.

  Luckily, another side effect I gained through all of this, is I can heal rather quickly now. Wounds close and heal within a couple of days, no sickness ever seems to last more than a few hours. Considering this shit show we are calling life right now, it’s a side effect I embrace.

  I leave the room immediately after the doctor walks out and I’ve given my stipulations for keeping her here. My body is like a live wire, a steady current passing through me just being in the same room as her.

  I know they all want her to stay, to believe her, there are just too many coincidences that are surrounding this situation. I, for one, am not taking any chances that she could be tricking us to let her in. Opening the gates for whoever is trying to take over our community.

  We have a lot at stake here. No matter how much I want to believe her, I can’t afford to let my guard down until I figure out what she’s really doing here. For everyone's safety.

  “You got something going on, I can see it in your eyes.” Tripp says as he comes up behind me. I don’t answer him, because I don’t need to. He knows me better than most people, albeit not really at all.

  “I won’t ask, because I can see whatever it is, is tearing you up, but if it affects the town or the people, you bet your ass I'm gonna find out.” He walks away before I can respond and frankly, I don’t give a fuck what anyone thinks.

  No one knows what this woman is like or what kind of person she is. I know they think I’m being harsh towards Adira, but I think they’re giving her too much slack. She was in the military for fuck’s sake. She ain’t weak and she ain’t stupid.

  I trust her as far as I can throw her, but I can’t ignore her warning either.