N87 Virus | Book 1 | After the Outbreak

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N87 Virus | Book 1 | After the Outbreak Page 8

by Kadin, Karri

“The people you hurt don’t want your apology. You showing up will just be a terrible reminder of what they lost. Some may want to hurt you as revenge for the things you did to them. It is not easy for people to forgive those who have killed their loved ones or nearly killed them! This would not be a safe, smart, or compassionate thing for you to do. It’s selfish, plain and simple.” Dave clenched his fist and the rhythmic tapping of his thumb stopped as he leaned back in his chair, keeping his gaze on Allison.

  “I’m not trying to be selfish. I feel I can bring people closure.” Allison slumped in her chair. “The risk of me getting hurt is worth bringing others and myself that closure.”

  “It’s a genuine possibility someone could kill you if you do this little plan of yours. And don’t fool yourself; you’re a smarter girl than that. It is selfish. It may bring you closure, but not them.” Dave stood abruptly before storming out the back door muttering something about the cows.

  “He is just worried about you.” Sandra’s voice quivered as she spoke. “So am I.”

  “You don’t understand what it’s like. I need to piece together my life from the past three years. I cannot do that without facing the people I’ve hurt.” A tear ran down Allison’s face, soaking the neckline of her t-shirt. “I have to do this. Even if people may want to hurt me. I can’t move on like this. I can’t live like this!”

  “You need a plan, then. A plan to accomplish what you need to do, but that will also keep you safe.” Sandra stood and walked down the hall. She was gone only a moment. She emerged from the hall with a blue plastic box in her hand. “Have you ever fired a gun?”

  “No! I really don’t like guns.” Allison reeled back as Sandra set the gun on the table.

  “Do you have a better idea on how to defend yourself out there? What about Infected? Or scavengers who live by taking what isn’t theirs?” Sandra looked pointedly at Allison while she removed a silver handgun from the case. “There are more dangers out in this world now than you realize, and you need to be prepared to face them. I don’t agree with what you want to do, but I do understand why you want to. If you are going to do this stupid plan, you need a gun.” Sandra removed the clip, opened up the chamber and removed the bullet, then closed it and held it out to Allison.

  Allison sat speechless, but when she realized Sandra was not backing down, she reached out and took the gun. It was heavier than she imagined a gun would feel. She ran her hand from the silver barrel to the black handle. Then held it out in front of her, pointing it at the oven, holding it sideways like she had seen bad guys do. After all, she was a mass murderer.

  “You are holding it like they used to in the movies, trying to look tough. Sideways and ridiculous. You can’t aim properly that way.” Sandra proceeded to give Allison a lesson in how to properly hold a gun. She explained what each part did, how to clean it, how to load it. Allison was overwhelmed but listened as intently as she could. She knew Sandra would not let this go; she would be forced to leave here with this gun whether or not she agreed to it. Might as well know how to use it.

  That night Dave returned to a quiet house after being gone all day. Allison had been up in her room waiting for his return despite Sandra encouraging her to sleep. Allison sat on the edge of her bed, suppressing the nausea trying to rise in her gut. Her hands trembled as she remembered Dave’s face from breakfast that morning. She moved toward her door just as the handle turned, and it slowly opened. Dave peeked his head inside.

  “Hey, little one. Can we talk?” Dave asked.

  “Yeah, of course.”

  Dave slipped in the room and quietly shut the door behind him. He sat in the rocking chair near Allison’s bed and motioned for her to sit. She sat on the edge of her bed and pulled her feet up underneath her. They sat quietly in the dark, the room dimly lit by the moonlight streaming in through the window.

  “One thing I’ve learned about you since you’ve been with us is you are tough. Less than half of the men I know couldn’t live with the memories of being infected as well as you do.” Dave rocked slowly as he spoke. “I think the best thing for you to do if you are going to leave here is to find your family. Forget about making amends.”

  “But I . . .” Allison said, but Dave held up his hand, stopping her.

  “I just want you to think about it. Think about how impossible this task you’ve given yourself is. I can’t imagine it resulting in anything good for you or anyone else. However, I want you to know I support whatever decision you make and will do what I can to help you.” Allison let out a breath she didn’t realize she had been holding. Some of the seemingly endless anxiety in her chest eased away.

  “Thank you. That really means a lot,” Allison said. Dave nodded before slipping through the door and walking down the dark hall to the room he shared with Sandra.

  The next few days were spent learning how to shoot the gun, packing supplies, and planning where she would go. Dave said she could take the old farm truck. It wasn’t pretty to look at, but it was reliable. Sandra found her the most travel-friendly food they had and made sure it was nutritious.

  Allison shared details of her flashbacks and dreams with the couple, hoping they would recognize any of the landmarks she could describe. Dave recognized one and marked it on the map for her. It was the farm where she had killed the little boy who was trying to feed her an apple. Dave knew where that was because of the radio broadcast and people in town had been talking about where it happened since it was so close. He said it was only about an hour drive and most of the area was cleared of Infected.

  “I’ll start there, then,” Allison said and wrote down the directions to the little boy’s farm in her journal.

  “Are you sure you want to start there?” Dave asked, his voice laced with agitation. “It’s only been a few months since that child died. Those are fresh wounds that family is feeling. You heard that man on the radio.”

  “I don’t know where else to start. It’s the only place I know to go. Maybe being there will trigger more memories. I don’t know.” Allison bit into an apple and continued reviewing her list of supplies.

  “What if it doesn’t trigger memories?” Sandra asked. “Then where will you go? Or even worse, what if it turns out you don’t want the memories you trigger?” She poured cups of coffee for everyone, adding plenty of sugar to Allison’s before handing it to her.

  “I’d just head back towards the college since I know I came from there. Based on where I started and where I ended up, I traveled about one hundred miles. So, I’ll focus on the in-between on that stretch. I will just have to deal with the fresh memories the same way I do now. Take them as they come.” Allison blew on her coffee before taking a sip. “Thanks for the coffee.”

  Sandra smiled and handed Dave his cup. She sat at the table in front of the pile of supplies Allison had gathered on it. She stared at it and drank her coffee in silence. From the woman’s stony silence, Allison knew Sandra was upset and didn’t want her to leave. She opened her mouth to speak to the older woman—and say what, she didn’t know. No words came, so she closed her mouth, continuing the unsettled silence.

  Dave sat next to Allison and grabbed her hand, something he had never done before. The gesture startled her, and she stared over at him as he spoke.

  “What will you do if this man and his family do not accept your apology? What will you do if they try to hurt you?” He looked at her with genuine fear in his eyes. His hand shook as he held hers. It broke her heart to know she was causing his fear.

  “I will use the gun. Not to shoot them. I’ll just use it to scare them if I need to. To be able to leave safely.” Even as the words slipped from her mouth she knew they weren’t true. She didn’t intend to use the gun at all, but lying was the only way to bring Dave and Sandra some comfort. “I think I’ve already been violent enough for a lifetime, don’t you?” Allison squeezed Dave’s hand, trying to offer reassurance, but he didn’t let go and his hand continued to shake.

  “I think you are undere
stimating the impact your visits will have on these people,” Sandra said in a flat tone. “You may cause more grief for people who have already experienced enough. Just head towards home. Find your family. Move on with your life and be happy.” Allison felt her cheeks flush, and her chest tightened with anger. She stood up with such force her chair slid a few feet back, making a horrid screech as it moved across the floor.

  “Move on? You think I can just move on from this?” Allison’s entire body was quaking and that familiar rage was pushing its way up from the depths. She felt like her body was going to explode. “I can’t just move on. I can’t just pretend the last three years did not happen. I killed people!” Allison cried and pulled back as it burned when Sandra moved in to hold her. “I am a murderer, a monster, I am something from a nightmare. You don’t just move on from that!” In one fluid movement, Allison flipped the kitchen table onto its side, barely missing Dave. She stomped across the kitchen, stepping in puddles of coffee and broken mugs on her way to the door. She opened it with such force the hinges broke off from the frame and she stomped outside into the darkness.

  Chapter Nine

  Allison

  How could they say that? How could they think that? Allison’s body shook as she walked further and further into the darkness. She eventually found herself at the edge of the property, standing in front of the electric fence. She stared at it, daring herself to touch it, to feel the electricity flow through her body. She deserved to suffer like the people she hurt suffered. She deserved to die.

  They didn’t understand. How could they? They had never killed anyone. Allison had. She had killed so many people it was impossible to really know how many or who. I don’t deserve to live when they are all dead. Allison touched her lips and the thought of their flesh and blood oozing from her own mouth brought her to her knees. She had not only killed them, but eaten them. She was a monster. She wanted to forget the feeling of being a monster and committing acts of abomination. She wanted to die. Allison threw the weight of her body forward, landing on the wires of the fence. Electrical jolts rocked her body into one giant spasm. The smell of burned flesh filled her nostrils as the buzzing of the fence echoed throughout the farm. She soon lost control of her muscles, then they jerked on their own, flailing her body around.

  She fell backward away from the fence as the tears streamed down her cheeks. She screamed so loud her own ear drums pulsed with pain. Her scream silenced all the noises of the night. Not even a cricket chirped. Her muscles stopped jerking, and she felt the pain of the scorch marks on her skin. She clutched her chest, letting out scream after scream until her voice was too weak to even whisper. She forced her sore muscles to flip herself onto her back, and she looked up at the stars, the tears streaming down her face forming puddles next to her ears. The moonlight was so bright it shined a soft glow on the land, making everything look as if it was out of a fairytale. The entire world had changed, but the sky remained the same. Allison stared up at the stars while her hands dug into the ground, breaking off strands of grass and throwing them to the side. The whole process soothed her and reminded her of home. It reminded her of her mom.

  “Allison, look over there! Above the oak tree, it’s a falling star,” Mom exclaimed, pointing toward the sky as she lay on her back on the family’s very worn trampoline on top of a pile of pillows and blankets. The moon was brighter than usual and cast a soft glow on the family’s backyard and the surrounding neighborhood.

  “Mom, that’s a plane,” Allison said, rolling her eyes but smiling. She watched the small light above the oak tree drift across the sky until the clouds covered it.

  “No, I’m pretty sure it was a shooting star. You need to make a wish. You too, kiddo.” Mom nudged Tyler in the ribs. Tyler groaned and pulled his knit cap down over his eyes. Allison looked over at her mom lying next to her and caught a glimpse of Tyler with an expression of pure boredom on his face as he lay on the other side of their mother. Allison threw a pillow at him, which landed right on his face.

  “Pillows are for laying on not throwing, right Mom?” Tyler said as he threw an annoyed glance at Allison. Mom patted Tyler’s leg.

  “Oh, you are right. Pillows are not for throwing, they are for laying. And . . .” Mom jumped up, grabbing a pillow. “For hitting!” Mom smacked Tyler across the chest and scurried away to the opposite side of the trampoline. Tyler and Allison both jumped up, grabbing pillows and moving out of range from their mother. Mom lunged forward, smacking Allison on her butt with the pillow. Tyler turned and landed his on Mom’s back. He was smiling now. They all were, and laughing. They continued their pillow fight until they were all struggling for breath.

  “Truce?” Mom offered, looking at her children with a pleading look on her face. “I’m too old for this.”

  “You started this!” Allison said with a laugh. But she dropped her pillow anyway and let her body fall back into the center of the pile of blankets. Tyler did the same, landing next to Allison’s right side. Mom then lay down on Allison’s left using her fight pillow to prop up her knees. She did this frequently when she lied down; she told Allison it took pressure off her back.

  “You kids are getting older,” Mom said. Allison would be entering college next fall while Tyler would be embarking on his last year in high school. “I just can’t believe how quickly time flies.” Mom sighed and looked over at both Tyler and Allison. “I want you both to know how much I love you. I will always love you, no matter what happens. No matter what you do. You both are my world; do not forget that. And if you ever miss me when you are away just look at the sky because that’s what I will do when I miss you. I will look at the sky and know that no matter how far apart we are, we are all under the same sky.” Mom turned her head away from her children but not before Allison caught a glimpse of the tears in her eyes. “Of course, once you are both at college you will be too busy to miss your old boring mother!” Mom said with a joking tone. Tyler reached across Allison and grabbed his mother’s hand.

  “Mom, I will miss you and I will come home every holiday because I am the good kid. I can’t speak for Allison, here.” He shot Allison a smirk. Allison smiled at her brother’s teasing and put her hand on top of her mother’s and brother’s hands.

  “I will come home too, Mom. I will always come home.” Allison squeezed their hands and she looked at her mother. “I promise.”

  The next morning the ache from the electrical burns was a not-so-gentle reminder of her stupidity. She gently peeled back the bandages, expecting to see the raw, angry, seared flesh from the night before. Her eyes widened as she stared at her hands. The burns were nothing like the night before; some areas were already healed. Am I Wolverine now or something?

  She walked down the hall, passing Sandra and Dave’s room, the faint sounds of snoring muffled behind the solid wood door. The kitchen table was upright again, although slightly wobbly. The tile floor had fresh cracks split across it. The door appeared to be in working order despite the splintered frame, but when Allison applied gentle pressure to open it, it fell to the ground, hanging on the injured frame by one hinge. Allison leaned against the wall looking at her almost perfectly healed hands, surrounded by the destruction she caused. Tears burned her eyes; her chest tightened in a vice of fear. What the fuck am I?

  Dave entered the kitchen as her tears began to fall. He sat next to her on the floor, engulfing her in his arms. She buried her face into his chest as she cried.

  “Why me?” Allison sobbed. “Why am I still alive? Why me?”

  “I can’t answer that.” Dave stroked her hair.

  “Look! How can this happen?” Allison held out her healing hands. “I don’t deserve to be alive. I don’t deserve to have super strength. I don’t deserve to heal quickly. It shouldn’t be me.”

  “But it is you. You healed, you overcame what millions could not. The actual question is what are you going to do with it?” His eyes locked with hers in an intense stare.

  “What do you mean?”


  “You were given gifts. Life when others died. Physical strength beyond that of anyone normal person. The ability to heal quickly when hurt. So what are you going to do? Wallow in self-pity or get your shit together and do some good?”

  “Maybe I should help Dr. Neff. Maybe that’s my purpose. To help create the cure.”

  “I am not saying that. I don’t trust that man. He is a vile human being who will do whatever he finds necessary to get what he wants. You are not his science experiment. You aren’t the only one Dr. Neff has hunted, and your special abilities make you more valuable to him.” Dave stood and extended his hands to her. “Get your shoes and come with me.”

  “Where are we going?” Allison stood and grabbed her shoes by the door.

  “Town.”

  They parked near a little grocery store on the end of Main Street. Despite the many shuttered buildings plastered with “DO NOT ENTER” signs, the street was lined with cheerful flowers and full of activity. Most open shops were clustered together, their doors standing open, welcoming those who entered.

  A tall man in a cowboy hat was loading boxes of produce into the bed of a pickup truck. When he bent over to pick up the last box she saw the outline of a gun on the man’s hip, concealed beneath his clothes. He tipped his hat to Dave before he took a seat in a yellow lawn chair near the store entrance. Dave nodded and gestured to Allison to get out. Allison had never left the safety of the truck when they were in town before. Her gut tensed, but she pushed past the feeling and exited the truck.

  “Morning, Jerry.”

  “M’rning, Dave.”

  Allison followed Dave into the store, past the shopping carts, past the aisles, until they came to a door marked “Management.” Dave knocked.

  “Come in!” a raspy voice said. Dave opened the door.

 

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