Plague Town

by Dana Fredsti

  “There has to be someone I can talk to!” she responded, trying not to let panic overcome her.

  “Here, ma’am.” He drew a card out of his breast uniform pocket. “This is a number you can call to get status updates on anyone inside the quarantine zone.”

  Betty took the card; it was a 1-866 number.

  “You’ll have to move along now, ma’am,” he said, and he stepped away from the car, motioning in the direction she was supposed to go.

  Betty nodded and hit the accelerator, following the detour signs until she was out of sight of the checkpoint. Then she turned off the main road and doubled back parallel to the freeway, crossing over to the west side a few miles south of the checkpoint.

  It would take her a few hours, but there were old logging trails and back roads that weren’t on any maps. She’d try them all if she had to.

  One way or another, she was going home to her daughter.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  * * *

  “Well done,” Simone said as we staggered through the front doors. I ached in muscles I didn’t even know I had.

  Gabriel looked crappy again, his skin pale and running with sweat. We hadn’t run into Team B, but he’d already had confirmation via walkie-talkie that they’d completed their sweep, and had returned a short time before us.

  Kai was supporting our civilian survivor, and Simone immediately stepped forward.

  “Professor Blandsford!”

  Jan’s eyes widened with recognition.

  “Professor Fraser?” she rasped. “You’re alive, too?” She started quietly weeping as Simone enfolded her in a reassuring hug.

  “You’re safe now,” Simone said. “Jamie will take you to get a checkup—you remember Dr. Albert, don’t you? And then you can have a shower and a hot meal.”

  Never far away, Jamie stepped forward quickly and led Jan off toward the stairs.

  “Oh, lord, a shower.” Jan started crying even harder. “I never thought I’d take another shower again.”

  I sidled up to Simone.

  “They’re not taking her to the med ward, are they?”

  “Oh, good god, no.” Simone sounded appalled. “Dr. Albert will check her over to make sure there’s no possibility of infection. If she’s clear, she’ll be given a room. If not, well, we’ll sedate her before taking the appropriate measures.”

  Appropriate measures. I shuddered. Waking up in that hellhole was something I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy.

  Colonel Paxton appeared and beamed at us. At least I think he was happy. With his expression, it was hard to tell.

  “How many zeds do you think are still within the confines of the campus itself?” he asked.

  “Hard to say, sir,” Gabriel replied. “We’ll need to go out tomorrow and clear the rest of the buildings. We can take them two at a time, one per team. Open the main points of entry and lure out as many as we can before doing a room-by-room check.”

  Paxton nodded.

  “Excellent,” he said. “Team B brought back several survivors. Unfortunately some had been bitten, but at least two were uninjured.”

  We went to shed our unimaginably filthy clothing, which was placed into hazardous waste containers. Then we were hosed down with some sort of disinfectant that smelled like Lysol and bleach on steroids, wielded by our hazmat-suited pals. Finally we went back to our rooms, wrapped in towels.

  Lil and I thumb-wrestled for first dibs on the shower, and I won.

  “It’s not fair,” she grumbled. “My thumbs are longer than yours, I should have won.”

  “T’ain’t the length,” I replied, “It’s the dexterity.”

  Lil stuck her tongue out at me as I shut the bathroom door, anxious to smell like something other than zombie guts or kitchen cleaner.

  Hot water never felt so good, but I took pity on my poor filthy teammate and made it quick. Swiping my underarms with deodorant, I quickly put on a little moisturizer and lip balm, slathered my body with lotion, wrapped a towel around myself, and vacated the bathroom.

  My wardrobe choices were limited to yoga pants, T-shirts, tank tops, sweats, and long-sleeved olive-drab thermals. I had another set of combat wear, but I’d had enough of that for the night, even if it did look kind of ginchy.

  I chose yoga pants and a thermal.

  As exhausted as I was, I was also wide-awake and totally ravenous. I sat on the bed for a few minutes, listening to the sound of Lily humming slightly off-key show tunes as she enjoyed a long soak.

  Next time I’d throw the damn wrestling match.

  After five minutes or so of humming and an amazingly loud series of growls from my empty stomach, I knocked on the bathroom door, opened it a crack, and yelled over the sound of running water.

  “Lily, I’m going to the cafeteria. See you there?”

  She stopped humming.

  “Okay!” As soon as I closed the door, the show tunes started up again, more off-key than before.

  I definitely needed to look into earplugs.

  The cafeteria was empty except for Team B—Gentry, Mack, Tony, and Kaitlyn—who were all seated and chowing down on what looked like steak dinners complete with salad and corn on the cob slathered in butter. I could see steam rising from the bread basket on the table. There were bottles of beer and wine lined up on a counter.

  Oh, yummy...

  No one else from my team was there yet. Probably enjoying nice long showers.

  Tony saw me first and waved his fork in the air, sending a piece of steak flying off to the side, narrowly missing Gentry.

  “Hey, Ashley!” he called out.

  The rest of the group looked up. Mack toasted me with a glass of red wine and Gentry wiggled an ear of corn by way of saying hello.

  Kaitlyn just went back to her meal. You’d have thought all of the zombie killing would have given her an attitude adjustment, but no such luck.

  I waved back to those who gave a shit, loaded up a tray with food, and took a seat near the end of the table. Close enough to be sociable, but leaving room for anyone else who might want to sit next to me. Like Lil or Kai... or maybe Gabriel.

  “How’d it go?” Tony grinned at me, a Band-Aid over one eyebrow.

  “Good, I guess,” I said. “Still alive.”

  “Cool.” He grabbed a bottle of Dos Equis and took a swig. I guess if Tony was old enough to kill zombies for his country, he was old enough to enjoy a cold beer.

  “What happened to you?” I gestured to the Band-Aid.

  Tony turned red, took another swig of beer, and muttered something unintelligible.

  “Dumbfuckzombippedabarbul.”

  I raised an eyebrow.

  “You don’t say.”

  Mack chuckled.

  “What he’s trying to say is that a zombie got up close and personal with one of his piercings. Guess it liked bright and shiny things.”

  I gave a shout of laughter.

  “Yeah, well...” Tony drowned his mortification with more beer, and shot Mack a pissy glare.

  I grabbed a bottle of water and downed it in three long gulps, then poured myself a glass of Napa Reserve cabernet. Matt would have approved. I took a dainty bite of steak—actually, I ripped into it like a starving tiger—and followed it with a sip of wine.

  Pure bliss. Hooray for the enhanced taste buds. Guess it didn’t always suck to be a wild card.

  For the next few minutes I ignored everything to focus entirely on eating. The hot rolls were probably just Brown’n Serve with I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter or something like that, but home-baked and freshly churned never tasted so good.

  I was nearly through my first steak and contemplating a second one when someone sat down next to me, on the left. I didn’t have to look to know it was Gabriel; that side of my body suddenly went on hyper alert, all warm and tingly. A moment later I saw Lily and Kai heading toward the table from the other end of the cafeteria.

  I turned and smiled briefly, noticing that he looked much better, the
n focused on my food again during the hullabaloo of greetings.

  Kai plopped himself down in-between Tony and Sgt. Gentry, and Lily sat on my right, setting a copy of the Zombie Combat Manual next to her plate.

  “More homework?” I asked.

  She nodded. Without saying a word, she opened the book with one hand and picked up an ear of corn with the other, munching as she flipped through pages, thoroughly ignoring the rest of us. Our death-dealing extrovert had evidently retired for the night.

  “Hey,” Gabriel said to me under cover of the babbling going on around us. It was amazing how much awkwardness could be conveyed in one syllable.

  “Hey, yourself,” I replied, going for three times as much awkwardness.

  “Enjoying the food?”

  I nodded.

  “Maybe it’s just ’cause I was starving—” I took another sip of wine. “—but I don’t think I’ve ever tasted anything so delicious. I mean, if you like this sort of thing.”

  Gabriel gave a half smile.

  “Don’t worry. No lecture today—not after everything you’ve been through.”

  “Glad those zombies are good for something.” I kept my tone neutral—maybe flirting just a little. I checked out his plate, piled high with baked potatoes, salad, rolls, and corn.

  “No offense,” I said, “but where are you getting your protein from? Seems like you’d need some, after... well, after everything.”

  Gabriel rolled his eyes. “Haven’t you heard of tofu?”

  I wrinkled my nose.

  “Gross,” I said. “It’s all white and wriggly and kinda weird.”

  “This from a woman who just waded through zombie entrails.” Gabriel poured himself a glass of wine.

  “Yeah, but you didn’t see me eating them, did you?”

  Gabriel chose to ignore that.

  “Ever had a tofu hot dog?” he asked.

  I shook my head.

  “I’ve always equated it with non-alcoholic beer,” I said. “I’d rather have the real thing.”

  “Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.”

  I noticed something red sticking out from under a pile of salad on his plate, something that looked suspiciously like a small piece of exceptionally rare steak. Gabriel looked down, and frowned.

  “Doctor’s orders,” he said. I could tell he was pissed off at being caught.

  Not long ago I’d have read him the riot act. Now I grabbed another roll from the basket.

  “God, I love bread and butter.” I cocked my head and looked at him. “Does being a wild card mean I can eat as much butter as I want without getting fat?”

  I felt him relax.

  “Only if you continue to work out the way you have been.”

  “So once the zombocalypse is over, then it’s fat city, huh?”

  Before Gabriel could respond, Gentry started laughing from across the table. Suddenly I realized that everyone else had gone quiet, and had been watching us.

  Shit.

  “Zombocalypse,” Gentry said. “You just come up with that?”

  I shrugged.

  “Makes it sound kind of manageable, don’tcha think?”

  “I like it,” Tony said. I could tell he’d had his share of the beer, and maybe more.

  “‘Course you do, bro.” Kai patted him on the shoulder. “Doesn’t hurt that Ashley thought it up, does it?”

  Uh-oh.

  Kaitlyn sniffed audibly.

  “Trust Ashley not to take things seriously,” she said into her plate.

  And trust you to take any opportunity to be a bitch. I took a few deep breaths, not wanting things to escalate. I felt Gabriel tense up beside me, but to my surprise, Lily snapped first.

  “Back off, Kaitlyn,” she said. “Just because you don’t have a sense of humor doesn’t give you the right to be a bitch to someone who does.”

  Whoah! Unleash the attack kitten!

  Kaitlyn looked as if a Smurf had just bitten her. It was enough to shut her up, though, and let the rest of us enjoy our meal. I noticed that she was the only one who wasn’t indulging in beer or wine.

  “So if we can’t have cool team names, what about our own code names?” Tony suddenly declared. “You know, like Snake Eyes or Matador.”

  Kai was all over that.

  “You can be Ash,” he said to me.

  “Wow, that’s original,” I replied.

  “No, really,” he said. “Like for Ash in the Evil Dead movies. He totally kicks ass.”

  “My point remains the same,” I said. But I actually kind of liked it.

  Tony waved a hand.

  “Whaddya want?” he asked. “Killer Barbie?”

  I shot him the look he deserved.

  “I’ll take Ash, thanks.”

  Kai grinned.

  “And Tony’s gotta be Joystick.” But “Joystick” looked less than thrilled.

  “Aww, jeez,” he said, “It makes me sound like a vibrating dildo.”

  Kai shrugged.

  “If the shoe fits...” he said.

  Gentry leaned back in his chair, causing it to creak. We looked at him, and he grinned.

  “I ain’t saying a word.”

  “How about X-Box?” Lil offered shyly.

  “Better than Joystick,” Tony admitted.

  “Wii would work, too.” Kai smirked, ducking before Tony could put him in a headlock.

  “Mack can be Postman,” I suggested. “The movie sucked, but Costner makes a good action hero.”

  Mack nodded his approval.

  “At least I’ll remember it,” he said.

  “I’ll be Ladies’ Man,” Kai announced.

  “In your dreams,” Tony shot back.

  “Even better,” I said, “Lando.”

  Kai looked pleased.

  “Gorgeous and geeky,” he said. “Gotta love it.” Then he and Tony turned their attention on Kaitlyn. She scowled back.

  “Don’t even think about it.” Wisely, they dropped it.

  “What about me?” Lily said, a hint of eagerness in her voice. I was glad to see her coming out of her shell—especially for something other than zombie killing.

  “Cutie Bunny?” Kai suggested. She punched him on the arm, and it didn’t look as if she held back much. “Damn!” He rubbed his arm. “Okay, not so cute.”

  “Gremlin?” Tony made sure to move out of Lily’s range. She chucked her copy of the Zombie Combat Manual at his head, and he barely ducked in time. Scooping it up, he protested, “It’s just so wrong to use this book against a fellow wild card.”

  Lily looked to me for help, but I was drawing a big old blank. Feeling a bit light-headed, too. Problem was that she was cute, so all of the wrong names were suggesting themselves.

  Finally Mack held up his hand.

  “I got it!” he said proudly. “Diamond Lil. Just Lil for short.”

  “I like it,” she said, “But where does it come from?”

  “Diamond Lil was Lillian Russell, an actress and singer from way back. Beautiful and tough.”

  Lily nodded, favoring Mack with one of her rare smiles.

  “Even cooler,” Tony said, “she’s a super hero!”

  “Oh, well then...” Mack looked amused.

  “In the comics,” Tony continued, getting into it. “Sometimes she’s a super villain. “She’s also, like, a mutant, hits twice as hard as a normal person. Totally kick ass at street fighting.”

  That should do it. Sure enough, Lily beamed.

  “What about Gabriel?” Captain Gentry said, grinning with the pleasure of someone who enjoys stirring the pot. “He needs a code name, too.”

  Gabriel’s look was deadly.

  “That’s not necessary,” he said flatly.

  “Easy one,” I said, wiping a sheen of sweat off of my forehead. “Tofu.”

  “Tofu” shot me a glare. I just smiled back sweetly.

  But Tony wasn’t done. He turned his attention to Gentry.

  “You’re next, dude.”

/>   “Yes, Willard,” Gabriel said. “I think it’s your turn.”

  “Ooh, cold, Tofu,” Gentry said, sounding wounded. “Very cold.” But he didn’t seem particularly upset, really.

  “Willard?” Kai grinned hugely. “Like the rat?”

  “That was Ben,” Tony corrected. “The rat was Ben. Willard was the dude who controlled the rats.”

  “That works,” Kai said, “since he’s in charge of your team.”

  Mack cleared his throat and put on a look of mock pain. Kaitlyn shot a glare, and she wasn’t pretending.

  Kai flushed.

  “Sorry.”

  Mack just grinned.

  “Actually, you wanted a nickname for the team,” he said. “How about Rat Patrol?”

  As everyone laughed, a sudden wave of heat swept across my face, neck, and chest, and I felt nauseous. I wondered if I’d gotten a bad piece of steak—like I really needed another case of food poisoning. My stomach roiled and I decided it was time for an emergency trip to the bathroom. I stood up, and was unsteady on my feet.

  What is this? I’d only had two glasses of wine. Or maybe three.

  “You okay, Ashley?” Lily smiled up at me with a slightly unfocused gaze.

  “I’m fine,” I lied. “I’ll be back in a few.”

  I carefully made my way across the cafeteria and into the hallway, heading to the nearest ladies’ room. Once I got there, I spent a few minutes deciding whether or not I was going to throw up.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  * * *

  But I didn’t.

  I splashed cold water on my face and on the back of my neck, cooling off what had to have been an alcohol-induced hot flash.

  Maybe it’s a side-effect of the hyper-senses, I thought through the receding nausea. Wouldn’t that be a rip-off? I hoped my fabulous new wild card powers included dodging a hangover, though, and decided to down some ibuprofen with a big glass of water, just in case they didn’t.

  Drying my face off with a paper towel, I turned and pushed the bathroom door open, smacking right into someone on the other side.

  “Crap!” I yelped, giving out the kind of sound small dogs make when they’re stepped on. Then I stumbled back from the impact—whatever I’d hit must have been a brick wall on two legs.