Blood Type Infected (Book 4): Betrayal of Hope

by Marchon, Matthew

  “You have no idea how bad I have to pee right now.”

  Wait, what? Did she just speak? Why is she not eating me?

  “Did it happen?” Her whisper strokes my face, a wave lapping against the shore on a calm sea. “Are we dead?”

  “I don’t think so. You haven’t bitten me yet.”

  I finally pry my lids open.

  She’s still her. Those giant eyes are peering up at me from her spot on the couch. Those mesmerizing Disney Princess eyes should have turned yellow by now. She shouldn’t be talking. Or looking at me lovingly, making me want to kiss her again, until this is finally over.

  “The thirst,” she says with a hard gulp. “It’s gone. I’m not thirsty anymore.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I think I already turned. I felt it. Do they all have to pee this bad? Because that might explain why they’re so angry. Is this what zombies see? Do they not know what they’re doing? Shit, Noah, am I killing you right now and I don’t even know?”

  “I promise you, you’re not. You’re not biting me.”

  “But if I am dead, and this isn’t real, of course that’s what you’d say. You let me bite you.”

  “But you didn’t. Felecia, your eyes, they don’t have the yellow streaks in them. You haven’t turned.”

  “Why’s it taking so long? It doesn’t even hurt anymore. My arm, it’s not on fire, but my bladder is. It feels like it’s going to explode. If I were dead, why would I still be in pain?”

  “Let me see your arm.”

  She holds it up for me to inspect, I just don’t have any clue what I’m looking for. It looks like a bite mark. It looks like a little kid bit the back of her arm so hard there’s a piece that’s flapping there, only held on by a small bridge of mangled flesh. I can see the hole where I picked his tooth out. The blood is gone, for the most part, washed away. Her skin is red, I can’t tell if it’s stained from blood or… burnt. It looks like she took a scalding hot shower.

  “Well, what is it? What do you see? What happened?”

  “He bit you. Hard. I don’t know what’s going on. I’m looking right at the bite mark.”

  “Was he not infected?”

  “No, he was. He was definitely one of them. And you feel okay?”

  “Fine. I mean, you know, all things considered. My ribs don’t even hurt as much as they did a couple minutes ago. Look, I can talk without wheezing and coughing.”

  “And you’re not burning anymore?”

  “Well, one part of me is, but I think that has more to do with our makeout session than anything else. Or, who knows, it could be because I have to tinkle and this couch is looking like a mighty fine toilet right now. Is the water in the fish tank magic? Maybe they’re special fish and they need water from the fountain of youth or something. I would have turned by now. Wait, Noah, why am I not sick? I just drank an entire vase of saltwater. I should be dead, even if I wasn’t infected. That’s too much salt for a human body to handle. At the very least I should be puking all over you.”

  “Wait. Wait wait wait, hold on, Felecia, at the school, the water. When Shaun stabbed me, we were in the science lab, you put saltwater on my cut. Was there smoke?”

  “Um, yeah, like steam. It was quick, but it was like pouring water on a fire.”

  “You were crying. I didn’t say anything but your tears were falling into my mouth. Saltwater. Your tears, the water you used to clean the wound. Felecia, I was infected, I know I was. I could feel myself turning, I swear to you, I felt it. That thirst. That burning. Their blood was on that blade, I should have turned, but I didn’t.”

  “You’re right. Holy shit Noah, you’re right!” She jolts up, awakened from a nightmare. “But how? I don’t get it. This doesn’t make any sense.”

  “I mean, you use saline to treat a wound. What if saltwater is fighting the infection, killing off the cells or something? I’ve never been too good with science–”

  “No, Noah, that kinda makes sense. So, look, saline is, it’s just one part water, one part salt. Like, when they put it in your body, it doesn’t dehydrate or rehydrate you, they sorta cancel each other out. Ocean water, it’s made up of way more salt. So much that it would literally dehydrate you to death, our bodies couldn’t handle it. The bladder can’t keep up. Is that why I have to pee so bad? I’m sorry, I can’t anymore, I gotta go.”

  “Umm, okay, you are taking off your pants.”

  “Look away. It’s coming whether I want it to or not. Stop watching,” she shrieks before I have a chance to turn around. And that’s the sound of pee hitting the carpet. She is popping a squat right there. “Oh god yes. Go, go stand over there, I need privacy,” she groans, what must be thirty seconds later, and she’s still going strong. “Oh this is the best pee break ever. Oh man. So, what do you think would happen if we poured saltwater on one of the infects? Nope, can’t do it, sounds like a person with a lisp trying to say insects.”

  “Hey, that’s the same thing I said. So, we’re just gonna continue talking while you’re using the ladies’ room?”

  “Well, clearly this isn’t stopping anytime soon. Uh oh, the puddle’s growing. I can’t spread my legs much more. Don’t even think about making a spread your legs joke or I’m turning you into a urinal. Noah, what if we can bring people back?”

  The door crashes down, broken clear off its hinges. The stampede of undead intruders come bursting in, falling to the floor in a pile of jumbled body parts. If they knew enough to help one another, they’d be standing before we could grasp what was happening. But they flail about, knocking each other over in their desperate race to feed.

  The first to his feet stumbles over the others with his eyes locked on Felecia. She’s closer, and if there were any doubt before, there’s none now, she’s alive. If she wasn’t, they wouldn’t look twice, not even to question why she’s watering the rug.

  Dried blood on his chest and legs glisten from the pond water saturating his out of date running gear. Chunks of his thigh are missing, nibbled to the bone beneath the shorts too skimpy for a man of his age to ever be seen wearing in public. Or any man. Human teeth have left his ‘world’s greatest grandpa’ t-shirt shredded to bits, barely clinging onto his fit body. The gaping hole in his chest is leaking fluids that should never see the light of day. But, are his abs seriously better than mine?

  The vase. I scoop it full of water and hurl it across the room.

  “Hey, that’s my drinking cup!”

  It shatters against the world’s greatest grandfather’s chest. It’s just a vase, clearly it shouldn’t be enough to stop him, but I see something I’ve never seen before. It hurts him.

  He falls back, chest smoking like I just tossed a lit match at a gasoline soaked body. A vampire walking into sunlight. A demon being doused with holy water. The skin on his chest bubbles up, melting the remains of his shirt in the process. The hole grows larger, expanding enough for his organs to become visible through the cavern in his ribcage.

  “Nope, can’t bring people back,” I shout as the physically fit grandfather’s skin disintegrates.

  It doesn’t stop him for nearly long enough. His chest looks like a latte, frothing, little blood bubbles popping and oozing down his seriously toned abs.

  The melting grandfather is the least of our problems, the rest of them are clambering to their feet.

  Is she still not done peeing? Oh my god, that’s her butt. Those are Felecia’s butt cheeks. I um, what were we talking about? Right, the uh, the science quiz project, thing, anatomy. How does she fit it in her pants? No wonder we had so much trouble getting her jeans off. If I were them, I wouldn’t want to leave either.

  “Noah, you’re not supposed to be watching! Wait, are you staring at my ass?”

  “Sorry,” I shout, fighting to peel my eyes away. It’s not like I’d never noticed it before, I mean, shorts, yoga pants, but I’ve never seen it in all of its uncovered glory.

  Dammit, I stared too long. Where’s the sword
? Felecia’s katana. I know I brought it with us because I questioned why I was trying to carry both her and her sword when we were only coming here to die. I thought it was over. I didn’t plan on fighting anymore. And then, her butt, I can’t even tell you my own name right now.

  What’s going on? Right, sword. Coffee table. You’ve gotta get back in this Noah.

  He’s too close. There’s no time. If I turn to grab it, he’ll get me from behind. Bad choice of words, now I’m picturing Felecia’s behind again. Damn you Noah, head in the game.

  His age-spotted hands are inches away. All I can do is stick my foot out, in an attempt to kick him off.

  The sword’s right there on the table. If it were a lightsaber, it would have flown into my hand with a little manipulation of the force. But unfortunately, it’s just a regular old sword so it sits there, taunting me as the old jogger with the oozing chest rams into the sole of my boot.

  My foot bursts through his soggy ribcage, a straw thrust into a red slushy. Organs squish and burst beneath my heel before meeting resistance on his spine. He thrashes and grabs at me, his arms not quite long enough to make contact. But I can’t balance here on one foot forever.

  The other four, five, no four, they’re almost completely untangled from their little game of door destroying Twister. Maybe there are five of them, I don’t know. I can make out four sets of legs but five heads. And shit, they’re on their feet, all four of them. Well that explains that, the fifth one has no legs.

  I hop back a couple baby steps, using his open chest cavity for balance. I was never too good at yoga, I just kind of tip and fall over. Jenny had to hold my hand to keep me balanced when she’d make us all do yoga with her. This was, of course, before the infamous kiss.

  But there’s no one here holding my hand today. And he’s thrusting himself towards me with too much force. I can’t keep my balance, not when I’m leaning over, reaching desperately for the sword. I’m going down, and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.

  CHAPTER 3

  My back hits the carpet, soft enough to cushion my fall but not stop the wind from getting knocked out of me. The world’s greatest grandfather comes right along for the ride, his ribs getting caught on my foot. How long can I hold him off with one leg?

  Something falls out of his chest as he hovers above me, trying to dislodge himself. We must look like we’re performing some advanced tandem yoga that I’m not nearly skilled enough for. This is taking me way outside of my comfort zone.

  Oh my god, it’s his heart. It’s beating. That’s what fell out of him. His freakin’ heart is laying on my stomach, still beating. Why is it still beating? It’s not even attached. His soupy insides are draining out of his fizzy chest. He seems to have finally stopped foaming but it’s as if he were splashed with acid. His body’s corroding and breaking apart with every sudden movement. Trust me, I would know, it’s my lap that’s catching it all!

  There’s no way I’ll be able to reach the sword on the coffee table, not from my current position down here on the floor. A few minutes ago, it wouldn’t have mattered, but now that Felecia’s alive, we have to get off this island. We need…

  We’re on the wrong island.

  Saltwater. The ocean. We need to get to the ocean. Look what it did to his chest. They won’t be able to get us out there. They’ll burn and melt in the process, or whatever it is that just happened to him.

  They have a weakness.

  There’s hope. Not just for us, but for mankind.

  We stopped Felecia from turning. And me. This is no coincidence, it can’t be. There’s a chink in their armor. We know their secret. We can fight this.

  I grab the edge of the coffee table and pull. With my free leg, the one that isn’t currently stuck inside the geriatric jogger’s abdomen, I hold the leg of the table in place and tip it over. The sword slides toward me.

  Uh oh, didn’t think this through. Do you realize how sharp her sword is? If that thing falls the wrong way, it’s going straight through me. Relax, drama queen, it’s not long enough of a fall for that, but it’ll sure give me a cut that stings like hell.

  Phew, the sword hits the carpet. All my limbs are intact.

  He shifts his gaze. Those yellow tinted eyes land on the sword as I grab its silky handle. He knows. He knows what’s coming. The old man wiggles and squirms, trying to detach his frail ribcage from my boot. He’s pushing himself away from me, trying to get out of range.

  But it’s too late.

  I twist my body one way, my arm the other, bringing the blade across his throat before he can do anything to stop it.

  His head hits the carpet and rolls, coming to a stop facing my direction, his blank stare landing directly on me.

  Was saltwater all it would have taken? It can’t be that simple. If he’d been jogging along the pier when he was attacked, if he’d fallen into the water, would it have saved his life? Would his decapitated head be staring at me from the floor of some majestic island cabin right now?

  I spring to my feet just in time to see Felecia leaping over the couch, trying to pull up her pants with three of them behind her.

  “These buttons are impossible,” she screams as I pass her the sword and drop to my knees in front of her. I have to admit, I’d rather be removing her pants than helping her put them on, but she’s right, these buttons are ridiculous.

  I don’t mind that I’m not facing them. Not when Felecia’s got my back.

  She swings with this sexy grunt that really makes me consider unbuttoning the one I just did and making love to her right here while the rest of them watch. If they could keep a respectable distance, I wouldn’t mind having spectators, but something tells me they’d join in and not in a way that could be considered fun by anyone.

  She swings again as I thread the second button through the hole. Do soldiers need to deal with this every time they have to relieve themselves? They really need to incorporate velcro or zippers in these things. It doesn’t help that my hands won’t stop trembling.

  She strikes again with another sexy groan that I don’t think she intended to be half as sexy as it was. She sounds like a dainty tennis player, swinging at that fuzzy ball with everything she has.

  I jump to my feet, sliding directly into her arms, lifting her off the ground in an embrace so tight it makes her squeal involuntarily. As if her noises couldn’t get any sexier.

  “I’m alive,” she whimpers, kissing my ear as I squeeze the breath out of her, unable to stop myself.

  “I thought I lost you.”

  “I’ve been waiting for this for years, I’m not going that easily. Thanks for buttoning me by the way, I promise I’m not– Uh oh, babe, we gotta get outta here. They’re coming.”

  Through the open door they so gracefully destroyed, the decorative streetlamps illuminate the incoming horde. Streetlamps, really, what kind of messed up Thomas Kinkade/George Romero mashup island is this?

  “This is our only sword?” she asks, looking around frantically.

  “The others are by the boat.”

  “You were really coming here to die with me. Noah,” she whines, touching her free hand to her heart. “Next time we get a second, remind me to kiss you and never stop.”

  All I want to do is kiss her but we have company. The torso is making its way towards us. He gets both hands firmly planted, swings his body and plops his open ended abdomen on the floor, using his arms like crutches. Did they eat his entire lower half? Did he get ripped apart in some kind of horrific accident?

  “Yep, seen enough.” Felecia grabs my hand and leads me to the backdoor we entered through. “Noah! Neil and his brother.”

  “Scott!” I know it’ll draw the approaching horde in our direction but I have no choice. I don’t know which house they went into. “Scott, we gotta go!”

  “Noah, there’s at least twenty of them, they’re coming through the house.” She pulls me down the backyard towards the shore, worried I’ll make the wrong decision. “We can’t wait.
”

  She’s right and I know it. We have one weapon. Even if I had my sword, we couldn’t fight off twenty of them. And I can’t risk our lives to save theirs. Not with the close call we’ve already had. I don’t want to leave them behind, I don’t. But at this point, what choice do we have?

  Doug’s sword. It’ll be down by the boat. Shane’s too. Maybe with extra weapons we’ll be able to fight them off and find Scott and Neil. Shit, Shane. He jumped onto the rowboat, after I couldn’t pull it ashore. Do we even have a boat?

  A small group of dripping wet zombies emerge from the tree line, stepping into the diffused glow of the moonlight. They followed us across the pond. How many more are coming? There must have been a hundred back on the road, and that was just the ones we could see. Are they all splashing their way through the lake right now?

  What the hell are we supposed to do? We can’t turn around, there’s an island of infected inhabitants on our tail. Not to mention, we’re running downhill as fast as our feet will carry us and I don’t think I could stop myself right now if I tried.

  Nope, I just tried. Not happening.

  I launch myself into the air and hit two of them in the chest with a running dropkick. Notice I did not use a flying karate kick. I’ve learned my lesson, I am not a ninja nor do I land like one.

  Felecia tucks herself into a baseball slide down the lawn and severs an ankle or two, I can’t quite tell if she got both of them in one swipe.

  She leaps into the air mid-slide like she’s on a snowboard and swings her katana at the second one’s throat. His head pops off like a rock ’em sock ’em robot while his body collapses.

  She lands back in a slide, digging her sword into the ground to stop her momentum. Felecia freakin’ Harmon. God damn I love this girl.

  As I scramble to my feet after the running dropkick that probably could have won me the ZWF championship, Felecia throws her sword in my direction. It twirls through the air so fast I can hear it whistle before it digs into the gently sloping hillside a few feet to my left. And now I love her even more.