Infected

by Justin Clay

  “Good night Lucas,” I reply to him and follow my sister out of his room into ours for the time being.

  An hour or so later, my June has fallen asleep in my arms, her head lying along my chest. And I brush her hair out of her face gently. “My sweet, sweet June,” I whisper. “What would I ever do without you?”

  I don’t ever want to know the answer to that question.

  29

  DEPARTURE

  THREE MORE DAYS PASS until the morning comes when Eli, June and I have decided to leave the Huckles. Mary’s husband has kindly enough allowed us to take two of his five horses to finish our journey finding the Carriers. June picked the one called Wind for us, a beautiful mare with a shiny gray coat and a deep black mane and tail. Eli has taken the other called Thunder a rustic reddish brown stallion that has a crescent like white marking on his forehead and dark brown splotches about his mouth and lower legs. Mr. Huckle says he named him that because the horse always knows when a storm is coming by his frightened actions. Hopefully, we wouldn’t encounter any along the way too badly.

  Mr. Huckle had them saddled properly and attached leather reins while Mary saw to the sacks of food and supplies her husband mounted on the horses’ sides afterward. I had never ridden a horse before. So when I climb up hesitantly with his assistance, Mr. Huckle most likely realizes this because he gives me a few pointers on how to hold the reins properly and how to keep my legs against the horse.

  “Now, remember if you’re afraid,” he tells me with his gruff accent, “the horse will be too…So, relax, and be confident and you should do just fine.”

  Yeah, easier said than done, I think to myself but don’t say anything. I only nod curiously. I ask for June to ride with Eli until I get the hang of it. She doesn’t really like the sound of that but doesn’t argue with me. She knows it’s the right thing to do. I get off Wind in order to say our goodbyes, which do not come as easily as hoped they would. I manage telling Mary goodbye all right and thank her for all she’s done. The woman is crying tremendously when she hugs me so tightly I scarcely can breath.

  “Oh, I just — just wish you three didn’t have to leave,” she tells me between sobs. “I just guess…I enjoyed having nice company around too much…And Eli…You saved our lives…My family’s lives…If there’s anything you ever need, please visit us; we’ll be more than glad to help you…Right, Hayes? And that goes for you too Rian…And yes, you too little June.” She pats my sister on the head, and June gives me a face I only would be able to understand.

  “Yes, thank you, very much,” Hayes says, nodding, and offering a hand before Eli. “What my wife said, ten fold.”

  Eli takes his hand and shakes it wordlessly. He gives them all a weak smile, tips his head and makes his way to saddle Thunder. June eventually drifts away, and I stare out into the sunrise beyond the hillside outside of their farmland. The skies are afire with burning sunlight and yet my heart is sinking. I don’t want to say goodbye to Lucas, but I must.

  “Lucas…I…” I begin not sure what to say exactly. “Thank you,” is all I can muster.

  He grins, his flushed cheeks dimpling. “No need to thank me.”

  “But I am,” I say. “And I feel like there’s a better way to tell you how I feel…since I probably won’t see you again…Good luck…And…”

  I lean in quickly and kiss him on the mouth. Lucas looks at me stunned after we separate, and his parents aren’t shocked at all. They had already been expecting it most likely by his strange behavior around me. The behavior of a boy infatuated. I watch as his face turns bright red, and I can’t help but smile. June is calling me.

  “I have to go now, goodbye,” I say.

  “Wait, wait…Rian, don’t go,” he says, reaching out to grab my hand before I could turn away. “I want to tell you something.”

  I look at him in earnest and he takes a heavy breath inward before explaining himself:

  “I know this is going to sound sappy and cliché, but I don’t care,” he says. “Like you said, I don’t know when I’ll get to see you again if ever…But before I met you…I was pretty miserable; my sister’s death has been tough on all of us…But you started to change that…Give me hope again…So I am the one who should be saying thank you, so thank you Rian…You’ve changed me…for good…And I want to see you again…Say that you’ll come back? Please?”

  “I — I — Okay, I will try my best,” I tell him all I could come up with for the moment. My head’s too clouded and my heart’s beating too wildly to think straight. “If I can…I will come back for you and your family once we find the Carriers. That I can promise.”

  “See you then, Rian.”

  “See you then, Lucas,” are the last words I tell him. And it’s those words I remember while I ride astride Wind behind Eli with my sister, heading into the distance and leaving the Huckle’s farm behind. I don’t look back once. I want to forget the Huckles, and the fact they ever existed because while I am so grateful for what they have given us, I know in my heart I won’t go back for Lucas or his family. This chaotic life now on the run just doesn’t work that way. In the beginning, I thought differently. Now, like Lucas said himself…everything has changed.

  ...

  The morning eventually passes into early afternoon, the sun hanging lazily in the cloudless blue sky. Eli chooses a trail that leads us through the outcroppings of a pine forest. The terrain gives way to rising and sinking hills that lead to an asphalt road that borders a rippling lake reflecting the dark green images of the trees. But that’s not why we stop suddenly.

  The road is completely lined with abandoned rusted cars for as far as the eye can see until the roadway disappears a few miles in the distance. The silence here besides for the wavering of the water from the lake and an occasional bird callings is unsettling. The automobiles left during the Spill’s beginning years ago have produced an unpleasant aroma that’s caused the horses to splutter and twitch their heads.

  “What do you think happened here?” June asks me as we continue to remain alongside the road, pondering.

  “I don’t know,” I tell her quietly as she sits in front of Eli on Thunder. “Maybe all of them decided to leave on foot when an attack of Infected hit.”

  A cool breeze stirs the branches of the trees behind us; the wind sounds too much like a voice whispering. I swallow nervously. Eli looks to me with narrowed eyes.

  “We better get moving,” he says.

  “Right,” I reply, flicking the reigns, spurring my horse onward.

  Feet ahead we find an old green sign posted along the roadway; I thought it might as least have directions somewhere. It doesn’t. It just tells us the name of the lake. Chatcolet. Disappointed, we continue for a few more minutes until I ask Eli if we could stop for a meal break. So we do. The Huckles have prepared for us quite a few meals sustainable for our long trip ahead consisting of dried and salted meats, biscuits, which Mary packed in round tins, saltines, mixed vegetables from the farm, corn, and bottles of water to wash it all down with. We don’t eat much though, just enough to keep us going and keep our food balance in check. The less we consume, the better off we’ll be. Who knows when we’ll be able to come across food next.

  Eli suggests that we move on, and we follow the wending road around Chatcolet lake. Occasionally, I glance off to watch the ripples of water, watch their gentle crests glinting with sunlight. The shore is shallow and filled with tall water-grass blowing in the breeze. I notice the clouds beyond the hills we are approaching are beginning to take on an ominous black shroud; rain will be coming soon.

  Eli stops his horse ahead, and I glance at my sister who seems mesmerized. I look to Eli confused. “What’s going on?”

  “Look,” he says stretching out an arm, and I follow the direction. About a fifty feet out or so a family of Elk travel uphill. They are majestic furry creatures; the alpha male bears these massive antlers that splay out above his head like a king’s crown. For a moment, they look our way, and then cont
inue on walking, heading to who knows where. Amazing. After all that’s happened these creatures exist like they always have, unchanged.

  “Let’s go,” Eli says, snapping Thunder’s reins.

  “Hey, Rian — Rian, did you see the mama deer! She was pretty.”

  I laugh. “Yes, I saw the mama deer; I think she was looking at you.”

  June is beaming, and I catch a faint smile, but a smile nonetheless, play Eli’s lips before we head onward down the road.

  ...

  Once we reach a small town called Plummer that night, that’s when the rain starts. By the time we manage to scurry ourselves into an abandoned two-story home, the drizzle has become a downpour. I’m standing in a living room looking out through a window; the dreary, mud-bespattered scenery of the town is enough to make anyone sad. There haven’t been any signs of life, human or Infected, outside of our own since we left the farm. It’s very strange. You would think there would still be someone who stayed behind. I can barely see anything now with the falling darkness and thunderous deluge.

  Eli thinks it best for us to stay here for the night. I don’t argue. June and I scavenge the place for any remnants of food. We check every cabinet, drawer, cupboard, chest, and closet we could find and all we end up with is a few cans of beans, a box of Mac & Cheese, and some candy bars. Not much of a meal; luckily, we still had Mary’s prepared foods. Still, we saved what we wanted out of the meager pile. I kept a chocolate bar for dessert.

  The night is spent with Eli sitting on the stairway before the front door as June and I lie down on a couple blankets I found stuffed beneath one of the beds upstairs. They have a distinct scent about them, the smell of their once owners. It’s very distant but the robustness of it is still very human. There’s a whiff of mint and the woody smell of pine. I wonder who these had belonged to…and where they are now.

  My sister is already fast asleep, and as usual I’m still awake, staring up at the ceiling. What are we doing here? I’m not sure if I even want to find these Carriers anymore. I’m beginning to think they’re no more real than a cure for this disaster. The rainfall continues on later into the night, lightly pattering against the windows of the house. There are other sounds. Strange sounds to me. It sounds like someone is crying, but barely noticeable. Someone is sobbing quietly to themselves. Is it Eli? Is he crying? I don’t know…I don’t ever know for certain because eventually I’m lulled to sleep.

  30

  A DEAL MADE

  PLUMMER DOESN’T OFFER MUCH more than what we found in the first house we stayed, so we decide to move on westward. Three days pass, and we find ourselves in the midst of Wenatchee, Washington. Or what’s left of it. Eli says we’re now only two days away Seattle, where the Carriers are supposedly residing in the one of the last remaining Quarantine Zones. Wenatchee had once been something similar — not as large as a city zone but a refuge nonetheless; and that’s indicated by the remnants left behind of that past life here. The ten feet walls that barricade the city are rusted along with the barbed wire atop of the makeshift scouting towers. The rotting bodies of guards still dressed in their uniforms, some of them burned others mutilated by time or Infected, or both, are occasionally tossed against the sides of buildings or strung up by rope in the streets.

  There have been riots here. The stains of blood and skulls that you would take for oversized rocks are gruesomely unavoidable. As is the silence that dwells here. The eerie absence of people. Sometimes I’d rather there be the chaos of people like from what I can remember in the time before. Going to the grocery store as a child I would recall how packed the store would be, teeming with people — everywhere, billowing out from every possible direction and now…Nothing. Absolutely nothing.

  The front gate that heralded the mud-bespattered sign reading Quarantine Beta Zone A-32 had been opened, as if the skeleton of the city was beckoning for us to enter. I remember we remained there for a minute, our horses flaring their nostrils knowingly. A darkness lurked within these walls and the horses didn’t want to have anything to do with it. But we went on anyway.

  There’s a crackling of crushed cement and pebbles beneath Wind’s hooves and she suddenly shakes her head violently, snorting. Thunder whinnies loudly. Something’s got them spooked. Eli halts, holding out an arm and I stop too. “What’s the matter, girl?” I ask Wind, her black eyes glimmering.

  “Eli…something’s not right…”

  “Yes,” he mutters, staring out to the outcropping of buildings ahead. “They know something we don’t just yet.”

  “What do you think that is?”

  Eli breathes heavily, frowning. “That we’re not alone.”

  I watch the sallow crumpled ration fliers tumble across the road as we travel through the city. There are missing persons notices too. At least twenty of them, I’ve counted so far. I try not to focus on the absolute desolation here, and instead I look to the mountainous landscape encapsulating the horizon — get lost in its beauty. The road we’re on is labeled Yakima; it seems to be a very old. The buildings that fortify it are all mostly brick, bearing broken faces, their glassy eyes fractured and their mouths, the doors, ripped open, some missing. I catch our reflection in one of the windows of the several story building overlooking us. Eli abruptly prods Thunder to remain still; he glances my way.

  “What is it?” I ask, my brow furrowing.

  “Do you hear that?”

  Curious, I look away from Eli and decide to close my eyes. The sounds are distant, but I begin to pick up on them. A distinct murmuring. Gurgling whispers. I’ve heard them before. My eyes flicker open. I swallow. I realize my hands are shaking. “Eli…I…I think we should get out of this city,” I tell him.

  “Agreed,” he says quietly. “This way…Come on.”

  “I just don’t think this is a good…,” I attempt to persuade Eli otherwise as we travel onward, but my voice trails off once we clear the intersection’s corner. We’re all at loss for words. Nothing can really describe what we’re seeing.

  Infected. Infected. Everywhere. At least a hundred of them about twenty or so feet ahead…The most I’ve ever seen all huddled together in the shadows of the wide street way before us. They’re just standing there oblivious to one another, moaning, just like those we had found in Cheyenne. These people before turning had to have been the last remaining residents of this town. I look to June and she’s petrified. Her face ashen white.

  “They haven’t noticed us yet,” Eli says, contemplating.

  “Let’s not stick around to figure out why,” I reply quickly. “I mean…You can’t expect us to go through that…That’s suicide.”

  “But why are they just standing there,” he says. “It’s like they don’t even care…Strange.”

  Wind neighs unexpectedly, shaking her mane and I’m startled. My heart is hammering through my head. There are new sounds, extremely close. Too close.

  “Rian, behind us!” Eli shouts and I see them. There’s a herd of Infected we hadn’t been aware of approaching, caught up with the spectacle before us. Thunder responds, whinnying, and Wind jerks violently. The encroaching Infected break out into a run screaming, and it’s then the massive crowd beyond finally take notice, turning their heads.

  “We have to move, Rian!” Eli cries. “This way!”

  Eli flings the reins, lurching Thunder into an unbridled gallop, and I follow encouraging Wind urgently. I shout to June for her to hold onto Eli as tight as she can. Not to let go, because I’m not sure how this will end.

  I am not exactly sure when it happened; everything moved too quickly to register then. One moment Eli and June had been in front of me, escaping the voracious Infected behind us, and then they are gone. Just gone. I remember a distinct crumbling sound and the ground seemed to have given away, but maybe it hadn’t been there to begin with — there was a covering morass of leaves, garbage, and random papers covering the hole. Thunder whinnied loudly, startled tumbling out of sight with Eli and my sister down below. Horrified
, I could barely breath; Wind neighed frightened and I lost control; the reins flew from my hands from Wind’s intense movement. There had been the sudden weightlessness of falling, the painful collision of solid ground against my side, and the hammering hooves of my horse as she took off to who knows where.

  And I lay there on the ground for what felt like days before I could even think about moving…but I had to…

  They are coming. My chest tightens as I lift my body up wincing, and finally pull myself to my feet. I reach down and grab my pistol that had fallen from its holster in the aftermath. I search the area before and see nothing...No Frothers. There’s just nothing, and this confuses me. Had we lost them?

  Tenuously, I approach the hole that from its crude looks had been man-made to be about eight feet wide and who knows how deep…deep enough for a horse and a large man and small girl to disappear within I guess. Searching its depths, the hole — the trap for Infected, I guess, seems to be about eight feet deep. Not terrible but enough where I couldn’t reach to pull either of them out effectively. I watch intently as my sister, who looks okay, is knelling beside Eli who has somehow ended up beneath the broken body of Thunder; he isn’t moving, which worries me. I look at the horse’s dark, weak eyes and know his death is soon.