Carriers

by Krissy Reynolds

  "T…take it and g..go." The woman stammered as she threw three sets of room keys across the counter. "Just don't kill me. Please!"

  Shay took the three sets of keys and dipped her head to the woman. "Thank you," she said blankly as she left the thirty dollars on the counter. The woman's beady eyes oogled it as if the money could infect her itself. The bell chimed and the couple exited the lobby, walking quickly to the others where they waited in the parking lot.

  They gave the appearance of zombies- Katrina's head was resting against Owen's shoulder as he leaned up with his eyes closed against another car. Kyleigh was rocking back and forth, struggling to remain awake. Nobody had slept well on the floor of the U-Haul. The promise of a bed to sleep in was almost too good to be true.

  She whistled to get their attention. Everyone seemed to whirr back into life, blinking away the tiredness.

  "We got the rooms," she said. Around her, six sets of eyes lightened with excitement. "Owen, you Katrina and Laylia are in one room. Kyleigh and Marena will be in another, so Jaycee I guess you're with us." She said as she tossed them their respective keys in turn.

  She made her way sluggishly to the second floor, her feet shuffling along as tiredness began to seep into her bones. She twisted the key in the lock and the door swung open, revealing an equally sleazy room. There were two queen beds covered with puke green quilts that looked scratchy, the furniture was old and ratty and a single older television sat perched above the dresser. It was well masked by cheap air freshener, but the room faintly reeked of weed. She was disgusted to know she'd come out smelling like it tomorrow. Normally she would wrinkle her nose at such a sight, but the idea of a bed to sleep in was too much to turn down. She walked to the one closest to the bathroom and flopped down, sinking into the covers with a joyous sigh.

  She'd only been lying there a few minutes when the noise of the TV startled her. She sat up in bed, annoyed and rubbing her eyes. She'd almost been asleep! Carson was sitting at the foot of the bed with the remote in his hand, eyes glued to the screen.

  "Turn it off, the rest of us are trying to sleep!" She snapped at him. Jaycee's face was buried in the pillows of the other bed, passed out.

  "Geez, I'll turn it down," he muttered.

  "Don't, I might as well watch it now," she grumbled, scooting down to sit beside him. He had the TV tuned to CNN, and she felt her stomach drop when she realized what their subject of conversation was-them.

  "We're now approaching day three of the escape of the Carriers and release of the Blue Plague." The reporter was standing in the hallway of a hospital. She felt as if she'd just been punched in the gut- she'd been to that hospital plenty of times before. It was the one her mother worked at. Doctors and infected people rushed past the reporter, coughing into their elbows or groaning as they did.

  "Doctor John Evans is here to give us a little more detail on the virus," said the reporter as the camera switched to a doctor. Bags were present beneath his eyes and his face looked worn, the creases in his skin more defined than they should be.

  "All we know as of now is that once infected there's a brutal bought of coughing, then nothing else seems to happen. Right now people are mostly complaining of strong headaches even the best painkillers can't null- we're just reaching day three now and I have a feeling this will be getting a lot worse. Some patients are showing signs of decreased motor skills- it is just slight, but it's there, and we're looking in to it."

  "Thank you, and yes, sir, what else is there that you know?" Asked the reporter, stuffing his microphone into the doctor's face.

  "As far as we know it isn't airborne. From the cases we've seen it's transferred by touch and bodily fluids. Here in Kansas City we have two hundred forty three confirmed cases- and each time it was because they touched another person. It could just be an accident, like bumping or brushing a stranger on the street, or hugging or kissing a loved one. Either way it's spreading rapidly. It's scary how much humans actually touch each other. I believe we have more cases than confirmed, as some people, like the Immune aren't coming in because they know they're alright. As long as your eyes have more gray than blue upon infection you'll survive. We've seen no Carriers here."

  It made a lot of sense, but she felt as if she'd been punched hard in the gut all the same. Two hundred forty three confirmed cases in two days. She thought back to the man she'd infected on the bridge. He could have later shaken hands with a few friends on the street, and the men in question would all go home, kiss their wives, hug their children, and the mentioned people would go on to spread it to others in their close circle. It stunned her how easy and simple it had been made for the virus to spread like wildfire.

  "Are there any other things we need to be aware of?" Said the reporter.

  "There's been seven cases outside the city- and two have been linked directly to the Carriers. People are getting sick because of them, and although there's been no deaths yet we do believe people are going to die, which is why we need to find them and kill them before this thing gets out of control." The doctor spat, the hate burning in his eyes shocking her. It wasn't just the government that wanted them dead, but everyday ordinary people.

  The scene switched to the inside of the CDC, where another man was being interviewed. "We don't know much yet. Nobody's died, but this thing was obviously designed to kill lots of people very quickly. All we can do is wait. There's nothing we can do for these patients."

  "So do you think the Carriers are terrorists?" The reporter asked. Beside her Carson scoffed. What kind of ludicrous idea was that? They were fifteen year old kids!

  "I don't know. They're American high school freshman. It doesn't seem likely to me but I've no idea how they got their hands on this. When they're captured we'll know."

  That was when a wave of nausea overtook her. She was on her feet and rushing to the trashcan by the door, feeling the bile rise in the back of her throat. It was just too much to take. People wanted to kill them, now speculating on if they were terrorists and the impending deaths of two hundred fifty people provided a nice topping to the sundae. She didn't puke, but felt as if she could.

  "And now, there is a seventy-five thousand dollar reward for all eight of these individuals, whose names are now known. They can be brought in dead or alive." Another reporter said as she removed her head from the trashcan to see eight familiar faces staring at her from the TV screen. They'd plucked images from their social networking pages and pasted them on national television, each of their names and bounties displayed beneath. Shock whammed into her again, forcing her heart to drop to her feet. She felt the bile rise in her throat again and her head went back to the trash can, this time actually vomiting.

  "A reminder to any person in close residence, please, please stay inside, and do not touch anyone. May God be with you."

  Chapter 9

  Watching those she loved be slaughtered before her eyes was hell, especially when she could do nothing to stop it. This was the case for Shay- she found her position of view coming as if she was watching a movie, seeing the events play out before her eyes yet was helpless to stop them. She found herself back in the city, watching as Marena, Carson, Katrina and the others all fell around the street, killed by bullets. They were not the only people suffering untimely demises, however. Every other body littering the street was of a friend, eyes altered to the same shade as Cassie's as they stared blankly into the world forever. She could do nothing to stop their deaths, just sit, watch, and silently scream.

  The night was long and tortuous, difficult to sleep through. After seeing the news broadcast the night before she'd been in a very fragile state, stunned by the massive amount of sickness that was spreading back home. She could know those two hundred and fifty victims. It had only been two days, now dawning on the third, since the Carriers were released to the world, and there was already so many infected.

  Gray light filtered in through cheap curtains, rousing her from her disturbed slumber. Beside her, Carson still snored lig
htly. She hadn't noticed it before. Sitting up in the bed, dowsed in a cold sweat, her eyes scanned the room to make sure nobody was going to lunge at her, gun drawn. Nothing met her gaze but shadows.

  Looking over to the bedside table she was shocked to discover the time- it was almost eleven thirty. Yesterday's strain had been heavy, but sleeping for almost ten hours wasn't something she usually did until summer rolled around. Taking a deep breath she ran her fingers through her hair, telling herself the horrors had only been a dream.

  "Shay, Carson, open up!" A voice, muffled by the wall, shouted as a fist made hard contact with the door. They continued to pound against the metal as she dragged herself out of the warmth of the bed, accidentally tripping and taking the covers with her. She stumbled forwards, catching onto the doorknob just before she was bound to have fallen face first onto the floor. Annoyed and aggravated by the knocker's persistent rudeness, she yanked it open, squinting her eyes as light flooded into the motel room.

  Katrina and Laylia were hovering just outside the doorway, both of them looking like they could piss themselves. She was surprised to find Laylia on her doorstep, and it instantly registered something was wrong.

  "What?" Shay hissed, eyes still adjusting to the midmorning brightness. Katrina's head whipped over her shoulder before turning back around to face her, eyes round with urgency.

  "Th…they found us," Katrina stammered, struggling to string her words together. Shay instantly felt as though she'd just been delivered a blow to the stomach- it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who "they" were. Although she knew it would be only a matter of time, never did she expect for it to come so soon.

  "Shit." She muttered, heart instantly racing. She disappeared back into the darkness of the motel room, flinging open the drawer on the bedside table to reveal the 9mm tucked safely within. Carson stirred in the bed beside her, mumbling incoherent things as her hands fumbled around the gun.

  Turning around she discovered Katrina and Laylia had invited themselves into the room. She opened her mouth to spit something at them when Katrina tried to discreetly hand the other girl a twenty dollar bill. She raised an eyebrow, instantly suspicious.

  "Since when did you have twenty dollars?"

  "Since I made a stupid bet." Katrina glowered in response. "And I lost, goddammit."

  "What was the-"

  "This isn't important! They have Jaycee, those bastards have Jaycee!" Laylia spoke up suddenly, her voice shrill. Immediately floored Shay whipped around to see the girl's bed vacant and recently made, as if she had only just left recently.

  "Where is she?" Shay said, raising her voice.

  "In the black van outside," Katrina responded blankly. "What are you going to do?"

  "Whatever I have to," she replied coldly, shouldering her way roughly between the two girls. By now Carson was up and out of bed, following her outside. Behind them the two girls where whispering profusely- she couldn't shake the feeling the bet had been about her and Carson, but she had bigger things to worry about than bets on her virginity. They're not taking her and nobody's dying. I'm making damn sure of that.

  Slipping outside she almost collided with Marena, who was briskly making her way around the corner. She stopped her walk just in time, their foreheads spaces away from thwacking.

  "You know about Jaycee?" Marena asked grimly as Shay took a few steps backwards before going around, making a beeline for the stairwell.

  "Just found out," she replied, voice hard and flat. Without hesitating Marena followed, falling in pace with Carson.

  Nobody spoke afterwards. The tension in the air was oppressive- every single one of them knew something bad was about to go down. Her heart was thudding against her chest, threatening to burst as she cleared the last few steps and found her bare feet firmly planted on asphalt. Twenty feet before the Carriers stood three men, leaning up against the black van. These were no cops- they were up against government agents.

  The noise of several footfalls behind her reached her ears- it sounded as if now all seven Carriers were together. How they would manage to retrieve Jaycee she didn't know, but they would prevail somehow. It would be a horrible thing to leave her there, and although she wasn't friends with the girl she was still one of them, and that was the closest thing to a family she was going to have from here on out. For all she knew the Claire household had forbidden speaking their eldest child's name.

  Raising her gun, she took a few daring steps forwards. The others copied, always staying at least three steps behind her. Why where they following her? If she had become their leader she was oblivious, but for now it seemed like they were mimicking her every move. Three figures began to walk rapidly towards her, causing her to stop dead in her tracks, her boldness suddenly evaporated. Her resilience had been replaced by a stark fear, coursing through her like adrenaline.

  Five feet of asphalt was all that separated the wanted and the pursuer. The moment she raised her gun three became trained on her, three fingers all ghosting the triggers. One wrong move and three bullets would end her before she could even scream. From a quick assessment of the situation she had no option besides holding her ground. Any slight movement and they'd go trigger happy.

  "Drop your weapon, Miss Claire," one spoke, voice cool and malicious. Her heart fluttered a little as he spoke her name. After the newscast last night she had been brought to light on the fact the world now knew her name, yet hearing a complete stranger utter her name still came as a shock. It was almost as if she'd become a celebrity.

  "Not until you drop yours," she responded, a hard edge to her voice. The one in the middle looked to his two counterparts before shrugging. To her surprise, they dropped their weapons, each kicking their respective 9mm away with their feet. She didn't stand down, continuing to point her weapon towards the one in the middle. He seemed to hold authority over the other two.

  For being face-to-face with America's most wanted teenagers they were giving up the fight far too easily. Their actions were a little too suspicious for comfort- they were going to try something. She could see it in the glimmer in their eyes.

  The man on the right moved his arm the slightest degree, beginning to snake it behind his back as if he was reaching for something. Snapping the gun in his direction she graced her finger over the trigger for a moment, although she knew she didn't have the heart to do it. She couldn't kill someone. She wasn't a cold-blooded, ruthless murderer, but a teenage girl thrust into a situation she didn't belong in. They hadn't posed any threat to her life just yet- there was no reason to riddle them with bullets.

  "Keep your hands where I can see them!" She commanded, her voice growing higher as her panic continued to bloom.

  "I was just going to scratch an itch," the man said casually, ever so slightly continuing to inch his hand behind his back. It all happened so quickly Shay wasn't even sure what to make of it. Carson and Marena were at her side in a flash. The man in the middle proceeded to whip another handgun from behind his back, presumably tucked into his belt, and aimed it directly at her head. The two flanking him copied his actions, each aiming for a different teen. They were stuck.

  "It's over Carriers. Drop your weapon and come with us." the middle one commanded. She refused, instead standing her ground. She kept her gun trained on the man, finger still hovering inches from the trigger.

  "To our deaths? Like hell!" Carson spat as he inched himself closer to her right. The quaking in her hands was growing progressively worse, nearing the point where she feared she might drop her weapon. One trigger squeeze and all hell would break loose, no matter what side carried out the action. Somebody would die, it was inevitable. She just prayed it wasn't one of the two people beside her.

  "We will take you without problems if that means we have to kill you," the man continued as he took another step in her direction. Just do it. Just pull the trigger. He's going to kill you and Marena and Carson. Do you want to die? If you don't, then he has to. Her thoughts were warring against her sense of m
orale- no human in their right mind would kill a person. It didn't matter. Screw her morals. If Marena was right and God was really testing them, this was one of his trials. Even if she doubted her ability to end a human life, it was necessary to save the lives of the Carriers. One for eight, one for eight.

  "Take one step closer and I'll blow your fucking brains out!" Shay sneered, her finger spaces away from the trigger. The three agents broke out into laughter.

  "Do you actually expect us to take you seriously?" The one on the right chuckled. "You're just a kid." They were right- she didn't expect them to take her seriously. She'd just hoped they would and back down. Even she herself knew she wasn't going to follow through on that threat. Carson stiffened beside her, lips pressed into a line of displeasure.

  "How would you like it if we blew your brains out before you ever got the chance to even touch the trigger, Miss Claire?" The one in the middle barked at her. Adrenaline coursed through her veins, wiping all thoughts from her mind. Her eyes were glued to the man's finger as it inched dangerously close to the trigger. Besides her Carson tensed, taking a half step forwards and moving his arm in front of her. All weapons instantly snapped to him and he gulped, his eyes growing wide. He clearly hadn't been expecting the change of aim.

  "Don't touch her," he warned.

  "I wouldn't have to touch her to shoot her," the agent in the middle snickered. "But, maybe I should shoot you first. Make her suffer a little."

  The agent's words sent fury pulsing through her body. How could someone have the nerve? She understood the fact they were wanted by the whole of America, but that didn't warrant the brutality when they'd only infected four people- and all of them had been accidents. She knew they were wanted dead or alive, but they hadn't killed anyone. They were not criminals, just threats. Except for me. I shot two cops. It's different now- I can't wound these guys and run like hell. If I don't want to die they have to.