by Mark Tufo
Gem shook her head. “I don’t know how it’ll help anything.”
“Kind of like sulking,” I said. “I don’t know how it’ll help anything either, especially when I’ve made my decision.”
Gem said nothing, but went to the door and left the motor home. I waited for her to look back, but she didn’t.
And I knew it was only because she loved and cared for me, but I still felt empty standing there without her and her worried face.
“It’s a plan. See if you catch anything tomorrow. If you do, we’ll feed her and see if the vapor returns. If it does, I’m your man.”
Hemp nodded. “Speaking of food, I’m hungry. Why don’t we have an early dinner today.”
I agreed. I was famished.
And I needed some Gem time. I couldn’t stand it when that woman was upset with me. Just like old times. I loved the shit out of her, and I think I’d do almost anything to make her happy. Almost. But this was so important that she’d have to just come around.
We went in the house and brainstormed over the menu for those of us who had broader tastes than flesh and brains.
Over the next day we set up the larger snares using Hemps uncanny knowledge of physics and counterweight. It was ingenious. We’d gone out to a local gym to gather the necessities that we’d been unable to get the previous trip out, and now had twenty of the plastic-coated, 20 lb barbell weights, and we’d also been able to secure some 50 lb braided fishing line. We had enough materials to construct around 10 large snares capable of capturing a man or woman. Using a small weight initially, we tossed the line over a heavy tree branch near the most likely courses of access to my property.
It sounds easier than it was. Many of the tree branches weren’t heavy enough to support the weight, but eventually, we identified enough strategically located trees to get the job done.
Once the line was over the branches, we tied two of the 20 lb weights to each one, and pulled the weights up about 10 feet. Once in the air, the natural friction created between the cord and the branch itself made it easier than I would have thought to hold it up there. Hemp suggested a 20 lb monofilament fishing line as our tripwire, and that was secured between two moderately heavy sticks stuck into the ground. A large slip-loop was placed on the ground around the tripwire, and when completed, we tested it by using a log that weighed around 80 lbs and about the thickness of a man’s leg.
Once tripped, the left-side stick gave way, releasing the weights which dropped fast, drawing the slip-loop closed. One end of the log was snagged, and by virtue of the 40 lbs of counterweight, lifted easily into the air. The snag was tight as shit.
This would catch a zombie.
“Not a protective measure,” Hemp said, reiterating his reasons for building them. “Not in the literal sense. If we catch one, chalk it up to a stray who got lucky. If we have a forest full, we’d better get the hell out of there.”
“So no checking traps alone,” I agreed. “Buddy system, fully armed and on alert.”
The whole process took us over four hours, because all the branches were at different heights, and one design wouldn’t work. Different lengths of cord, obstacles on the ground such as stumps and other things that might prevent the loop from closing as intended.
Hemp’s smaller traps had yielded two small squirrels and a rabbit. We decided to save any rabbits for the humans, and use the squirrels to feed Jamie. We realized it might not be enough to create the vapor, but it was all we had. And we agreed not to let Trina see the rabbits ever. They’d remind her of her sister, and she’d cry because they were dead besides.
Hemp agreed to feed the squirrel to Jamie, and I was glad. I didn’t want to do it, and I didn’t want to watch it, though I didn’t come out and say it. I was still mourning her loss, and while it didn’t feel right in my soul to want to avoid seeing her, much less watch her eat forest rodents, I knew it was the best thing for my sanity.
I’d skinned and cleaned small game before, so I did the honors.
“You’re pretty good at this stuff,” Hemp said, watching as I stripped the hide off each squirrel.
“Practice, that’s all,” I said. “I’ve never messed with the heads, though. Shouldn’t be more than a spoonful of gray matter in either one.”
“I don’t know what it is about the brain that these creatures need, but a squirrel brain should work as well as the next specie as far as makeup of the organ itself.”
“Think you’ll be able to eventually figure it out?” I asked.
Hemp shrugged. “Time will tell. I’m going to work on the EEG machine tomorrow morning, so I should have some sort of update for you after I’m able to hook it up and get some preliminary testing completed.”
I finished dressing the squirrels and had each tiny skull split and the brains exposed. As I’d assumed, the brain was minuscule. Together, it might be a couple of mouthfuls.
Hemp took the metal platter I’d put the meat on and put his hand on the lab door.
“Ready, Flex?”
“No,” I said. “Not really.”
He looked at me. “Flex, I’ll film the experiment. I have two small video cameras that came stocked in the lab. Let me set one up, run the feeding test, and if you feel you can handle it, we’ll watch it together later. But if it does work, I’m going to want to test the eye vapor on you right away, just in case it dissipates over time.”
“Sounds good,” I said. “Perfect. Thanks, Hemp.”
I went back to the house. As I walked the short distance, I saw Charlie coming along the path toward me. On her way to the lab. I stopped as she reached me.
“Hey,” she said. “How are you doing?”
“I’m okay,” I said. “You going inside the lab?”
“I thought I would.”
“Good,” I said. “I really don’t want him doing this by himself. He’s got a few gas masks. Wear one.”
“Absolutely.”
She held her crossbow in her left hand and a Coca Cola in her right, and her hair was pulled back in a ponytail. She was wearing a set of scrubs, one of many we pilfered from the hospital. I realized, since she’d showered and gotten cleaned up, that she was quite an attractive young woman – even in the baggy outfit.
I knew that Hemp had noticed, too. He’d been showing her around the lab, and she’d taken a clear interest in his work, and I wasn’t so sure she hadn’t taken an interest in him, too. I hoped she had. In the short time we’d known her – just over a day – both Gem and I had grown to like her a lot.
I watched her continue toward the mobile lab, then waited until she’d rapped gently on the door and gone inside.
Chapter 229
I was wiring up a perimeter camera to the entry fence with Gem standing guard with Suzi. Well, not so much standing guard. Really she was sitting in a folding lawn chair, slowly scanning the area outside our little compound for intruders.
We had a nice long run of cable on this camera, the farthest from the house – but we had plenty of wire, and when I pushed the shiny new connectors onto the terminals, the red light blinked on. This was not a panning camera, so I directed its wide-angle view down the gravel road so as not to miss anything or anyone taking the path of least resistance. It allowed a view of the drive itself, and an area of about 25 feet on either side, though it was virtually impassable beyond the drive.
The eye shine would show up a glowing white on the black and white monitors, but that would be like nickel-sized fireflies flitting around. It would be hard to miss on any camera.
I’d considered electrifying the fence, but the generator was under enough load, and I wasn’t even sure how electricity would affect these creatures. Chalk it up to watching too much TV, but I’d have liked to do it anyway.
As I was packing up my small toolbox, the Crown Vic came barreling down the gravel drive, the idle gun locked into forward position and Hemp and Charlie’s faces staring excitedly through the windshield. We didn’t see Trina at first, but she was there, sitting between Charlie�
�s legs, smiling at the bumpy ride.
The car stopped and they got out.
“It worked!” Hemp shouted as he approached us.
“Yes, it did,” Charlie said. “Like immediately.”
“What did?” Trina said. “What worked?”
Hemp tousled her hair. “Just an experiment Uncle Hemp’s working on, that’s all.”
“The food, meager as it was, seemed to allow the stuff to regenerate,” said Charlie. “We had masks on, and we’re lucky we did.”
“So it’s time?” I asked. I could feel Gem’s eyes on me as she stood, the Uzi slung over her shoulder. She’d begun to accept what I was going to do, but clearly didn’t want to discuss it. She folded the lawn chair and went to the Suburban, opened the rear door and put it inside.
“It’s time, my friend,” he said. “I was able to capture a sample of the vapor, too. It’s somewhat viscous, slightly thicker than the air, but I’ve determined where it originates.”
Gem walked up and stood with us, looking interested now. “Where, Hemp?” she asked.
Charlie was actually smiling. “From the tear ducts,” she said. “It sprays from the tear ducts, almost like one of those water misters.”
Hemp added, “When it’s not in use, it still leaks out, coating the eye, which is what gives them the glow we see. It’s kind of phosphorescent. Glow-in-the-dark.”
I considered it for a moment. “Any tests you can do to determine the makeup of it?”
“There are some chemical analysis devices in the lab that should be able to break it down, but as for how long it’ll take, I have no clue. While it’s obviously organic, it’s not something we have in our bodies, unless of course it’s created in part by the decomposition of the body itself.”
“This shit gets curiouser and curiouser,” I said. “I’m done here. We might as well get this over with.”
Hemp and Charlie got back in the Crown Vic, Trina in tow. I got in the Suburban, but Gem stood outside and stared at me through the open side window.
“I think I’ll walk back.”
“This is important,” I said. I stared at her for a long time, saw the sadness in her eyes, and nodded.
“I’ll be okay, baby. You know that in your heart.”
“If you knew my heart, you wouldn’t do this.”
Anger overtook me unexpectedly.
“You know what? Get the fuck in the truck, babe. You’re worried I might die or something, right? If that’s the case, then I’m not going to let you walk back, lose the minute or so of time with me, and live to regret it the rest of your life. I fucking love you and whether you’re mad at me or not does nothing to change that fact. So get in.”
“You’re so sexy when you tell me how it is,” she said, a smile forming on her mouth.
She got in, put her hand on my leg, and I put the Chevy in gear.
I drove like I was 90 years old. Time with my Gem was more important than ever.
When I pulled up and parked, the other three were already standing outside the Ford. Charlie, with Trina’s hand in hers, walked directly up to Gem.
“You want to go in while he does this?”
Gem shook her head. “I fucking love that man, Charlie. I’d try to kill her or rip her head off or something if I saw her doing anything to him, so no. I’ll stay with Trina, you video this, and I’ll see if I can bring myself to watch it later.
“Language,” Trina said, glaring at Gem.
Charlie smiled and took Gem’s hand. “I get it, and yes, of course I’ll be there and if something goes wrong, I’ll put an arrow in her head myself.”
“Good.” Gem turned to Hemp, who was unlocking the lab door.
“Film it,” she said. “And don’t leave anything out!”
Hemp winked at her and smiled. “Absolutely, Miss Cardoza. We can watch it later over popcorn.”
I could see his light attitude set Gem’s mind at ease. She laughed at the formality he’d used and came to me.
“Last chance to get out of it,” she said.
I shook my head.
“You know me better,” I said.
“Shit yes, I do. Wish I didn’t.”
“I’ll be fine,” I said. “The actual process should be quick. Then you can dote over me while I’m out.”
“Try and stop me.”
I put my hand behind her neck and pulled her to me, kissing her mouth and then resting my cheek against hers. The warm smoothness made me want to linger there, to nuzzle her, breathe in her sweetness, but I pulled away, gave her a quick peck on the forehead, and put one last squeeze on her hand before turning and walking up the steps and into the lab.
Hemp had placed a second gurney beside the one on which Jamie lay. The strapping of her extremities had been reworked to secure her well, but none of the straps dug into her ever-thinning skin. I stood there a moment looking down at this thing that was once my sister.
Her right eye, while still exhibiting the gaseous vapor layer over it, had caved into her head. The tear duct was not part of the disintegrating eye itself, so was not affected, but the glowing vapor just lay in a thicker pool there.
“Decomposition is bad. Getting worse,” I said. I felt like I was stalling, just making conversation, but the smell was foul and putrid – too disgusting to ignore.
“The masks are becoming a necessity just to be inside the room with her,” Hemp said. “After a few more tests, Flex, I don’t know how long – ”
“I know,” I interrupted. I knew what he meant, and I had come around – almost. I’d almost come around, and come to the realization that my sister had to be put to rest.
And then we’d have to find some way to tell little Trina that she would never see her mommy again.
“Okay, Flex, I want you to talk to me while whatever is happening takes place. Don’t stop talking.”
“Until I pass out, right?”
The many EEG electrodes were plugged into the machine, trailing like spaghetti to the rubber skull cap I wore.
“If you can keep talking after, then do so,” he said.
Charlie smiled at this, her mask tight on her face. Hemp’s mask was off for now, and I wasn’t getting one. I was on the gurney, but Hemp had rolled it about five feet away from Jamie’s until we were ready.
“Okay,” I said. “Roll me over. I’m ready.”
Charlie moved to the two cameras and pushed the buttons. Red lights shone on each.
“We’re filming,” she announced. “EEG machine recording.”
“Good,” Hemp said. “Sure you’re ready?”
“Yes. Go,” I said.
Hemp had loosened the strap on Jamie’s head so that she could turn it. Her neck was still restrained, so there was no fear she could move far enough to get at me.
Hemp strapped his mask on and pulled the rubber straps tight. He pushed my gurney slowly beside Jamie’s, and I lay there, our heads side by side.
I turned to face her.
And she turned to face me. The mist in her eyes glowed in the dimmed light, which Hemp had said might help to calm her and me.
“Jamie,” I said. “I love you, and I always will. You’re my sister first and what . . . you’ve become second.”
Her teeth gnashed again, the newfound strength from her meager food intake bringing her back to her previous hungry self. But now it was worse, as the skin around her mouth was almost entirely gone, and her tongue was blistered and black. I felt like I was going to throw up.
“I feel nauseous,” I said. “But I don’t know if it’s because . . . because . . . I don’t know . . . “
“Flex? Are you okay?”
Hemp’s muffled voice through his mask, but faint.
I felt weak, and my arms felt as though they were rubber. I couldn’t lift them. And I realized I couldn’t move my legs. It was hard to breath. I wanted to turn my head away, but my neck wouldn’t work either.
“Paralyzed,” I muttered.
And that was the last thing I reme
mber.
I woke up late the next morning to Gem’s hands on my shoulders, her palm lightly slapping my face. My body felt heavy, my head ached. But within ten minutes, I felt as though none of it happened, except that I was starving.
And not for brains. I smelled bacon and eggs.
Gem was sitting on the edge of the gurney next to me, but I was now inside the house. They’d rolled me over while I was out. I tried to sit up, but Gem held me down.
“Baby, relax for a little longer. Do you feel okay?”
“Let me sit up and I’ll tell you.”
She did. I swung my legs off the gurney and put my feet on the floor. I stood, felt shaky for a second or two, then gained my footing.
“I’m good, I think. Hungry as hell, but good.”
“You didn’t wake until we touched you,” Hemp said. “Same as me and the group at the 7-Eleven.”
“You said you were paralyzed,” Charlie said. “Right before you went blank. Eyes open, but gone.”
“Lights were dim, nobody home,” Gem said, smiling.
Charlie was dressed in one of Hemp’s shirts. Cambridge University Alumni. She looked cute, but I was sure she’d rather be wearing a Sex Pistols shirt or maybe The Clash, sticking with the British theme.
“So it seems to be a paralytic agent in the vapor,” Hemp said. “Analysis is still underway.”
“Whatever it is, it’s effective,” I said. “I didn’t stand a chance, and I’m clearly not susceptible to the plague, virus, or whatever the hell it is.”
Hemp sat down on the sofa and stared into space. “The virus itself is completely separate from this. This is some sort of side effect from decomposition and the condition, as far as I can tell. Perhaps like some sort of chloroform gas, but with additional interesting properties.”
“Like the paralyzing effect,” I suggested.
“Exactly.”
“Well, I want some of that bacon and those eggs I smell. After that, I should be back to normal. Gem? You still mad at me?”
She shook her head. “The breakfast I’m about to plate for you should prove that I’m not. Plus . . . what I’ll serve you later.”
