by Thomas Key
It was that thought that brought me back out of my flashback. The damn machine was still on, this time, Sydney was by my bed. “Look what the cat ate, threw up and then dragged in,” I said quietly, with my voice still suffering from what could have only been a punch to my throat. I sounded awful, like I had been gurgling glass. She ignored me, and went about checking the different instruments in the room around me. “I can’t believe I fell for it. You’re a class act,” I said again, trying to get a rise out of her. She removed part of the IV, creating a pick line to be used without having to reinsert a needle over and over again. My guess was, they had much more planned for me and this was just out of convenience, not out of any care towards me. After pulling the cartridge of blood from the machine, and sealing it, she finally looked into my eyes. “You are one of five people that I am observing and testing in this facility. All five of you have obvious signs of being bitten and infected, but do not show obvious outward symptoms. This could be attributed to slow turning, or it could be some kind of resistance. You could all also be carriers of the virus. Either way, it’s invaluable data that will help elevate me to a level that would allow me to get out of this job and into a position where I never have to touch another patient ever again. I’d get to rub elbows with the elite here and never deal with bed pans ever again. I don’t see much incentive to do away with all of that when all I have to do is play along,” she said. I just stared at her. “Have a good night, Mr. Barnes.” She closed the door and turned off the light, leaving me, once again, in pitch darkness. Great, I thought. Now I’ve got to pee.
Chapter Twenty
Rachel had driven half way through Albuquerque, stopping at a now defunct mall. The Coronado mall had done a marvelous job before the fall of adapting to the changing retail atmosphere. Utilizing their insane amount of parking spaces, they leased out parts of the lot for new restaurants and small businesses. Inside, they had new and exciting service-based businesses to draw new customers in. It legit had a bowling alley and arcade, as well as a high-end Cheesecake Factory. In its day, it was a ton of fun to explore the place and see the sights. Now, the mall was an empty shell of its previous existence. The few random cars in the assorted parking lots stood as reminders of past Christmas rushes and summer hangouts. The small group pulled into a handicap stall, just outside of the entrance with a Barnes and Noble at the corner. Once the Humvee was parked, Rachel sat, staring out the windshield. Tears were falling from her face, and she began to shake. The grief of the events of the past hour beginning to weigh heavily on her. “Lady, you know you’re in a handicap spot, right?” Cara said, poking Rachel’s shoulder. Even in the midst of utter despair, a smile crept onto her face and as she cried, she laughed. “Yeah, you’re right. I don’t think anyone will mind. If anyone shows up, and wants this spot, we’ll move. I promise,” she said, which seemed to placate the young girl. Cara smiled contently and sat back into her seat. Rachel looked around at the other occupants of the vehicle. The kids were jovial, not worried in the slightest about what had just transpired. The adults though, were sullen and looking out their nearest window. “Are we going back?” Jaylin asked. “Bet your ass we are,” Rachel replied, her grief slowly turning to determination. “Everyone, let’s get out and stretch for a second,” she said, in no time at all, every occupant filed out. They did as suggested, stretching and breathing in the fresh cold night air. The scent of the rain was still present with each inhale. “Can we do a group hug before we go?” Cara asked. The little girl was definitely starting to grow on the group. “Yes honey, I think that’s a great idea,” Jaylin said, her voice changing to that motherly voice that all women seem to have innately built in. At the little girl’s direction, they all came together and had a big hug fest. Even Cayden, who tried to avoid all things touchy feely joined in. After a minute or so, the moment ended and everyone piled back into the Humvee. “Ladies, are you ready for a rescue?” she asked, letting the glow plugs warm up and starting the vehicle. She looked in the rear-view mirror and saw each woman nod confidently one by one. “Alright then. Let’s do this,” she said as they pulled out of the lot and headed back the way they had come.
Thirty minutes later, they found the street that led to the target house. Something was different this time. Even in the rain, a haze was visible as they turned off of Tramway Boulevard and onto the residential street. As they neared, they saw the reason for it. The house that they had just defended and escaped from was burning. The entire house was engulfed in flames and burning zombies still surrounded the building. They were falling to the ground around the inferno, their skin literally melting off of them as they stood around it like some kind of perimeter fence. The group of survivors stayed back, away from the blaze and watched the house burn. They waited, hoping to see some sign of their friends. Minutes ticked by with no change. Nothing, except the flickering of flames through the house, and flailing zombies as they succumbed to the fire. They sat, with the engine idling as the supports for the home finally gave out and it crumpled to the ground, collapsing like a house of cards. The fire outside matched the fire in the women’s eyes as they all watched the house take its last breath. They had lost three friends. Kenneth, a man whom they all had grown to love and admire. A soldier and protector. Atencio, the witty, sarcastic comedic relief. Ashmore, the only trained medic in their group, and an attitude to match. They were gone, just like everything else seemed to be in this world now. The ashes of the house seemed to resonate with the group. Their hope for rescuing their friends was diminished in every way. Rachel pulled the Humvee away, driving up and down every connecting street, hoping for some kind of sign. None came. Their friends were gone, and nothing that they could do would fix that. The Humvee signaled near empty for fuel. Dawn began to approach and the clouds began to clear. It was going to be a sunny day. That fact did not help in the survivor’s deposition at all. The fuel gauge hit E and they made the decision to abandon the search. They had to refuel and head back home. If nothing else, they would deliver the children safe and sound. At a cost of four adults and two children, they would give these two kids a future. They terminated the search and headed back to the interstate. She knew there were several gas stations in the area that she hopefully could refill the fuel tank at. The zombapoc happened so fast that many gas stations had not been drained dry. Everyone had made a mad dash out of the city, dropping what they were doing and leaving with only what they had on them in most cases. As the smoke trail in her rear-view mirror slowly diminished, she once again began to cry. This time, she let it out. The rest of the occupants shortly followed suit. As they drove on, the sound of unbearable grief was the only sound that could be heard besides the near constant beating of the rain on the hood as they drove forward.
Chapter Twenty-One
Somewhere around 8-10 hours had passed while I was tied to the bed. It was not nearly as kinky as I had previously imagined. In fact, I pissed myself. I’m not too ashamed of that fact now. Honestly, who wouldn’t just let go after hours of holding it in? These people holding me prisoner now had a mess to clean up and who would have the last laugh then? Probably them, I thought as I lay there with the cold wet sheets under me. For hours more, I lay there, contemplating the answers of life. Finally, the door opened, with Sydney and two guards entering and heading directly for me. I did have a small measure of satisfaction when she received a whiff of the now hours old pee. She crinkled up her nose and I could not help but smile. She saw my smile and jabbed me in the gut. I let out a small cry of pain, the smile effectively wiped off of my face. “I hope you're comfortable. We’re going to give something new a try,” she said. She signaled to the two men around her, who also received their fair dose of my smelly goodness. One of them, the taller of the two, set a small briefcase-type container on the table next to my bed. They then both proceeded to grab my arms and legs. “Is this really necessary guys?” I asked the two men. “If you want a hug, just get one. I won’t tell anyone and I am a gentle lover,” I whispered in a sensual voice. The co
rner of the shorter man's lip began to quirk upwards in the faintest hint of a smile. He was a black man with a tattoo visible on his right arm. As I glanced over it, I saw the same tattoo on the other man's arm as well. My guess was some kind of brand. “Hey man, nice tat,” I told him. He got serious really quick. “Shut up,” he responded. The taller man, a white fellow dug his elbows into my mid-section as he held me. “Wow, hey thanks for that. Did you two get those tattoos on a couple’s night out or something?” I told him. “Do you ever shut the fuck up?” Sydney said, apparently not entertained. “Why do you ask?” I said, looking at her quizzically. While I had conversed with my two associates in the room, she had retrieved a syringe. Besides being bigger than one, I imagine would be used for horses, its contents are a mystery to me. The black and green liquid inside completely out of my realm. It wasn’t until I really thought about it that it came to me. I looked straight into her eyes. “Are you fucking serious?” I said, the fear beginning to truly well up in me. She grinned in response. “You’re a smart man. We’ve tried to identify some kind of resistance but as of yet have come up empty. We’re going to see if you are resistant to the infection, or truly immune. This here is a healthy dose of the virus, mixed with a cocktail of other drugs. You’re going to go night night and while you're out, we’re going to see what this does to you. Is there anything that you’d like to say in possibly your last few minutes of life?” she asked. I thought long and hard on that question. The world around me seemed to stop, or at least slow down. I looked back up and met her gaze. “When this is all over, I’m going to kill you.” She smiled and plunged the syringe into my IV line. “That's what I thought you’d say,” she said as I felt a mix of things all at the same time. I felt the warmth of what I can only assume was a pain killer. That was surprising in itself, why the hell use a painkiller on a prisoner? Then I was hit with this immense pain that I could not describe, even at gunpoint. My back arched and I screamed. The two men holding me were almost flung off as I writhed in pain. I could feel the liquid flowing through my arm and into the center of my body. As I screamed in agony, my eyes roamed the room. In the doorway, watching attentively was the General that I had met just recently. He was watching with incredible interest. “I’m….going...to..kill...you...too,” I told him, through clenched teeth as another wave of pain tore through me. Sweat was pouring off of me as my temperature spiked to past fever levels. I looked into the mirror as what must be the night night juice finally began to do its job. As I stared at the mirror, I saw my eyes slowly begin to turn a dark brown and then a black. I was turning. “No!” I screamed as my body finally collapsed and I faded into pain-filled darkness.
Chapter Twenty-Two
The small band of survivors fueled up at a nearly destroyed Smith’s fuel station off of Central and Tramway. The site had previously been a large grocery store, with a strip mall opposite to it. The entire area was devoid of nearly anything useful. Even the diesel that they got had to be siphoned from other vehicles and not from the pumps as they too were surprisingly dry. It took hours to fill the tank that way, but the group did it diligently. It helped to temporarily distract them from their losses. Once the tank was full, they proceeded unceremoniously out of the city, heading back the direction that they had come. Hours of driving, hours of sitting in a pile of grief taller than any building they had ever laid eyes on. Eventually, they made it back to Cannon AFB with no real issues. In fact, the trip had been completely uneventful. Go figure, Rachel thought. Only when we’ve lost half our team does something finally go right. Even when they pulled through the previous gun battle zone from their first trip, there was neither a single hide nor hair of anyone in their way. They pulled up to the heavily fortified gate of the base. A small squad of four soldiers, in full combat gear surrounded the Humvee with their weapons trained on the occupants. One of the soldiers, a Sergeant Weed, stepped forward and peered into the rolled down window. He recognized Rachel almost immediately. His eyes glanced around to the other occupants of the vehicle. “Where is the rest of your team?” he said. Rachel put her hands down and began to cry. Sgt. Weed sighed aloud. He waved to the rest of the squad to stand down. He looked back in at Rachel. “All arrivals have to check in with medical. Get checked up and see Captain Dail. I’m sure he’d like a debriefing,” he said as he moved out of the way. The gate opened, and the vehicle rolled through. A group of mechanics at the motor pool stared as the blood-encrusted, dented Humvee came to a stop. One of the headlights was out, and unimaginable parts of bodies still stuck to the grill. The mechanics watched as the occupants got out, grabbed their gear and headed to the medical wing. Once the passengers were out of sight, they did a quick ‘not it’ routine of touching their noses until the last man out had the unenviable task of washing the exterior of the vehicle. An older man, Johnny, didn’t get the bit and ended up the man for the job. He spent the next six hours scrubbing the living hell out of that vehicle, muttering at what bullshit it was. What did I do in a previous life to deserve this shit? he thought as he pulled a middle finger from a gap in the front quarter panel. He looked at it, and laughed.
The proceedings at the medical wing progressed quickly. Each one of them were checked for bites, and other infections. The two children received their first hot shower in months. The rest of the crew took the time waiting for test results to catch up on sleep. Sleeping in a safe place was becoming more and more rare. It was an unfortunate side effect of the apocalypse, like so many other things that had previously been second nature. The good old days of cruising down Route 66 with the top down, the wind blowing in their hair, without any cares in the world were long gone. 12 hours later, the group was assembled and led into Capt. Dail’s office one at a time to present a debriefing. By the time that was finished, they were once again exhausted. Reliving the events of the past few days and the trauma of losing their own weighed heavily on each of them, Rachel more than most. She sat through the whole affair, her tone of voice almost robotic as she added more and more information to the captain’s file. When their meeting was over, he stood and embraced her. The scene was not by any means normal military protocol, but then, what was anymore? He held her and she cried, the pain washing over her once again. This man had been their mentor and knew just about everything about each of them. He knew their hopes, their dreams and their passions. She realized then though, that their loss was also his. He had lost members of his team, his children, if you will. She looked up to his face, the clean shaven, perfectly groomed face and saw tears of his own falling. This new world was exactly that, a new world. After several moments, they parted and she left the office, thanking him quietly. Slowly, she made her way through the complex and to the bunk rooms.
The majority of the survivors on base lived in makeshift housing built by the Air Guard Red Horse Unit. When the shit hit the fan, they were able to mobilize much quicker than most units and had the highest percent of survivors in the remaining US arsenal. Two of the soldiers, a Staff Sergeant Garduno and a Senior Airman Marin walked down the hall, heading for the briefing room. The two women were inseparable since basic training, and it showed. Rachel stared at the floor as she walked onwards and ran directly into the two women on their way to brief before guard duty. The three women ended up tangled on the ground in a mess of arms and legs. Countless apologies insured. The two women though, once up and looking at the woman before them knew instantly that something was wrong. Women have an uncanny ability to sense things like that. The two airmen embraced Rachel in another hug. The fact that she did not know them in the slightest did little to discourage the hug. Once they separated, they introduced themselves. “I’m Cassandra,” said the shorter of the two women. Both were around 4’11 or so and could have been sisters. The just a half an inch taller of the two pointed to herself, “I’m Natalie,” she said. Rachel shook their hands. “Rachel,” she said. “We’re off to guard duty, would you like to come?” Cassandra asked. “I think I’m just going to get some rest,” Rachel replied. “Oh
okay. Well then, come join us for breakfast at least,” Natalie said. “I have so much stuff to do,” Rachel trailed off. “Great, we’ll see you at breakfast!” Cassandra said, cutting her off. “Yeah girl, see you then!” Natalie piped in, stopping Rachel from declining the request. She nodded in reluctant surrender. The last thing that she felt like doing was having some attempt at casual conversation, but she knew deep down that these two women would not let her say no. The two airmen said their goodbyes and Rachel found her bunk. The room felt empty, and so did her bed. She, of course, knew why. Her other half was gone. Not only that, but she had lost over half of the only people that she considered friends left in this world. This destroyed, stupid world, she thought. She removed her boots, and stripped down, slowly looking around the room as she did so. The tiny room, barely a bedroom by most people's standards was as empty as her heart, and just as cold. As she laid her head to rest once again, her mind wandered. The memories of the good times and the bad times, thoughts of hope and those of despair. After hours of restlessness, she finally fell into sleep.
Her alarm awoke her the next morning. It felt to her as if it had only been minutes since she had fallen asleep. The dreams had turned to nightmares and had taunted her through a vast majority of the night. She felt stiff; her muscles still tense with the adrenaline slowly receding through her veins. She stood and dressed in the same clothes that she had dropped on the floor the previous night. Two fucks were less than what she gave life at that point. She walked down the halls, the route all too familiar. After using the restroom, she made her way to the chow line. To her surprise, the two women were there, waiting for her. “Well, it’s about damn time,” Natalie said, pointing to Rachel. Cassandra turned in response and both airmen made their way over to her. “We’ve been waiting for you. Let’s get some grub,” she said, taking Rachel by the arm. They led her over to the line and proceeded to fill her plate with the assorted food. Rachel was not hungry and felt like she never would be again, but that would not stop the two from piling it on. An open table was close by and the two women surrounded her. Each took turns asking her questions. Slowly, she began to come out of the horrible shell of misery that she had been encased in and told them her story. The ups and the downs, the love and the pain. The two women listened patiently, each fascinated and then devastated by the turn of events. After spilling what felt like her life story, and receiving another round of hugs, the two airmen told her their stories, and for just a little while, she was lost in something other than her own agony.
