Surviving Hell (Hell Virus Book 2)

by Kit Tunstall

  Deciding I had to put on my big girl panties and deal with it, I looked around the room once more and saw a table with a woman close to my age. I approached quickly, taking a seat across from her. I could have picked one of the other seats farther away, but I forced myself to face my anxiety head on. I smiled at her as I sat down. “Good morning.”

  She nodded. “I’m Natalie. And you’re new.”

  I smiled, twisting the paper napkin in my hand. “I’m Sofia. I just arrived yesterday.”

  “So I guess you met Ben?” At my nod, she winked. “He’s hot, huh?”

  I just shrugged, not ready to have a conversation about the leader of the camp’s hotness with someone I’d just met. I didn’t know if it would get back to him. Honestly, I didn’t know if I cared if it got back to him that I found him hot. Instead, I just shrugged again. “He’s going to give me my assignment after breakfast.”

  “What an exciting time to be alive,” she said with a small smirk before giggling. “Expect plenty of drudgery, mixed in with moments of banality, along with the occasional spike of adrenaline.”

  “You must be the camp’s thesaurus,” I said in a teasing fashion.

  She just grinned at me. “Sorry. I was studying for the LSAT when the virus broke out. I guess all those words stuck with me.”

  I grinned at her. “I kind of like it actually. To be honest though, I haven’t spoken to much of anyone for months, so I have a feeling you could be reciting the alphabet, and I’d find it interesting.”

  “It’s definitely tough out there,” said Natalie. Her gaze was haunted for a moment. “I was on my own for a bit before I stumbled across the FEMA camp, and I was here during the transition to what we have now. I wasn’t alone for very long, but when I was, it was scary.”

  I nodded. I hadn’t had much of a chance to be alone, having volunteered to take the vaccine just shortly after losing the last of my family, but it had been scary, especially as my supplies had dwindled, and I’d begun to panic about what to do for my next meal. “What’s your assignment?” I made an effort to turn the conversation to something less serious, in no mood to ruminate on the events of the past year.

  “It varies. Today, I have guard duty.” As she spoke, her hands went to her hips in a seemingly unconscious gesture as she caressed the two handguns strapped to either side of her waist. “Other days, I help Grace in the infirmary, since I was a CNA in my previous life. I did that while going to college preparing to become a lawyer. There’s a useful job these days.” Her lips twitched in a self-deprecating fashion.

  Before I could ask her if she had other duties, the chair beside me moved, and I looked over to see Ben sitting down. He was properly dressed in faded jeans and a white T-shirt, and I was a little sad not to see his chest, though at least it made it easier to concentrate.

  After exchanging morning greetings with Natalie, he turned his attention on me. “Is something wrong with your breakfast?”

  I looked down in surprise, realizing I hadn’t even tried it. I’d been too busy talking to Natalie. I shook my head and started eating, saving the eggs for last. I expected to have to choke them down, so when I put the first bite in my mouth, I was shocked to find out how good they tasted. My eyes widened, and I swallowed the bite before looking at him. “These are actually good. How did you do that?”

  He waved a hand in the direction of the two people behind the counter. “You’d have to ask Betsy and Joel that. They’re our resident chefs.”

  “They must be miracle workers if they can make powdered eggs taste like this.”

  Ben grinned. “They aren’t powdered. We have chickens, and they give us fresh eggs.”

  It had been so long since I had a real egg that I’d almost forgotten what they tasted like. I quickly finish the rest of mine, surprised I wanted seconds after enduring the military version of eggs for the last year. I contented myself with finishing my juice while I waited for Ben to eat. I chatted with Natalie in the meantime, quickly learning her other duty involved helping in the garden.

  After Ben finished, we dumped our trash, and I followed him from the tent. Since there were only the four tents that I’d seen, I wasn’t expecting the tour to consist of much. It didn’t take long for him to show me around, pointing out the large chicken coop that looked freshly built, along with a huge garden, complete with irrigation. I was surprised by that and commented.

  “It was part of the system FEMA had set up here. It was supposed to be a temporary camp, but there were indications they had been planning to build a more permanent structure. There are FEMA camps in just about every state, at least according to the old director, and some are more permanent than others. I’m sure you’ve heard about the ones in Texas they were using to house illegal immigrants?”

  I nodded. “I think I remember something about that. They were kind of like prisons, weren’t they?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. That was just my sole experience with hearing about FEMA camps before coming to live in one. It’s why we decided to stay. We have a good setup here for growing crops, and there’s enough room to add some farm animals too. We need to do something about more permanent housing, but those tents are pretty sturdy. I think they must be Army-issued or something.”

  I stiffened at the word Army, but tried to hide the reaction. “What are my assignments?” I’d inferred I would have more than one after speaking with Natalie.

  “Since you don’t have a lot of specialized knowledge, I thought you might be useful on the float plan.”

  I frowned. “What’s the float plan?” I doubted it had anything to do with a parade, or ice cream dropped in soda.

  “You go where you’re needed until you find an assignment that’s a great fit for you. A lot of people start out this way, and some choose to narrow their focus, while others continue helping out where they’re needed.”

  Natalie’s words about drudgery and banality came back to me, and I struggled to hide a grimace. I wasn’t afraid of hard work, but what he said sounded boring. It was still better than being locked in a hospital room, subject to experimentation and study—and violation by Captain Briggs. “Where do I start?”

  “Today is laundry day.” He led me around the tents, to a freestanding shed behind them. I was expecting an old-fashioned hand ringer and scrub board, so it was a pleasant surprise to find three washers and dryers, along with another person already there. “You have electricity?”

  He grinned at me. “You didn’t notice it last night?”

  I blushed. “My nap lasted all night.” Come to think of it though, I suddenly realized there had been a lightbulb in the shower room, but I’d taken it for granted. There had been power at Fort Glacier too. Though I’d lived with my dad and brother for a short time after the power grid went down, and survived after them without electricity for a bit, I hadn’t been without it for the last year. “How do you do that?”

  “FEMA had generators here, along with solar collection. We only do laundry on sunny days, which is why nothing is started yet. Once the sun gets brighter, which shouldn’t be too long now, you can start everything up. We just try to carefully regulate it to make sure we’re not relying too heavily on the generators.”

  I nodded my understanding.

  “This is Maisie, and she’ll be your laundry partner. She’ll walk you through the procedure.”

  I arched a brow. “It’s laundry. I think I know how to do it.”

  He shrugged. “I’ll leave you to it then.”

  Remembering my resolve to speak with him about the true circumstances that had brought me to Camp Utopia, I reached out to put a hand on his arm to catch his attention. My fingertips buzzed with heat where I touched him, and I cleared my throat as I quickly dropped my hand. “I really need to talk to you about something.”

  He looked regretful. “I don’t have time for anything else right now. I have my own duties.”

  I nodded. “I understand, but this is really important.”

  He
let out a small sigh. “Can it wait until tonight?” At my nod, he said, “Come by my tent at six o’clock. I usually reserve six to seven as my free time, not to be disturbed unless it’s an emergency, so we can talk then.”

  After he’d gone, Maisie took me through the process for identifying and sorting clothes. Everyone had their own bin on the shelf against the wall, labeled with their first and last name. It was their responsibility to put the same identifying information in their clothing, and after we washed it, we sorted it, folded it, and stacked it in each person’s bin. It was oddly satisfying and felt like I was truly joining the place when I wrote my name on a piece of masking tape before sticking it inside my bin.

  That reminded me of the dirty clothes I’d left on my bunk, and I ran to fetch them before we started washing for the day. When I returned, I discovered Maisie was leaned back, hands on her lower back as she massaged it, and prominently displaying her stomach. She was pregnant, and I hadn’t noticed before because of her long, loose shirt. I was stunned at the thought, a shiver of dread going through me on her behalf. I couldn’t imagine anything worse than being pregnant in the apocalypse and the period after.

  She met my gaze as I entered the room, freezing in mid-stretch. Maybe she saw the horror in my expression. “It’s not ideal, is it?”

  I shook my head, feeling embarrassed to have been caught passing judgment on her situation, and even more embarrassed that I’d had the instinctive urge to do so. It wasn’t my business. “My mom used to say there’s never a good time to plan a child, and they just happen when they’re ready.” I managed the ghost of a smile, trying to sound lighthearted. “She had five children, including a surprise baby who was born when I was fifteen, so I guess she knew what she was talking about.” A fierce wave of longing for my family suddenly swept over me, and I had to grip the bundle of clothes in my hands and count to ten before I could regain control, and the risk of crying had passed.

  She smiled slightly, giving her rounded face a cheerful cast that wasn’t quite there in her eyes. “My husband would have strongly disagreed with that statement. He was all about planning everything to the last detail. He was a banker, and he was convinced everything could be budgeted or scheduled.”

  I grinned. “I guess you showed him.”

  Her smile faded, and she met my gaze with all trace of amusement gone. “My husband died in the first wave of the virus.”

  I frowned, doing a quick mental calculation that easily revealed her husband couldn’t have been the father of her child. “I’m sorry for your loss. My mom and sisters went then too. I lost my brother and father the month after.”

  Her expression softened. “It was just Lucas and me. We were both orphans, and we were close. Ironically enough, we had been discussing starting a family, and I was scheduled to have my IUD removed when everyone started getting sick. I wanted to steer clear of the doctors’ offices, so I canceled that appointment. I guess it must have slipped or shifted at some point during the last few years, because when it came down to it, it wasn’t effective.”

  “So you got pregnant with an IUD? I guess that’s a bit of a miracle, isn’t it?”

  She shrugged. “Miracle or cruel practical joke by fate. I guess it depends on your perspective.” Her dark tone left little doubt on hers.

  I frowned. “Is it safe? I thought you had to have it out to be pregnant?”

  “It’s not ideal,” she said, almost echoing her words from earlier. “Grace tried to remove it, but it’s too deeply embedded, and it’s not coming out any time soon.” Her fear was obvious, though she also seemed to make an effort to hide it. “We’re not really sure what’s going to happen when the baby’s born. So far, she appears healthy.”

  I frowned. “How do you know it’s a girl?”

  “Grace has an ultrasound machine. Someone brought it back for us on one of the runs. It’s almost like a real little clinic, except Grace is only a physician’s assistant, and we don’t have an operating theater if someone needs a C-section or an appendectomy or a nose job.” She added the last part with a little laugh as she self-consciously touched her nose. It was a little on the large side, and perhaps that bothered her.

  I didn’t pry about the father’s identity, assuming Maisie had met someone after the apocalypse, someone who was also immune to the HLV virus, and had taken advantage of a moment of happiness. It wasn’t my place to care or judge if she’d taken up with someone just a few days or weeks after her husband’s death. He was dead, and she was still alive, and that meant living.

  Laundry was physically demanding, though it was made much easier by the electric appliances. I couldn’t imagine washing the mountain of clothes by hand, and I hoped their generators and solar collectors withstood the test of time.

  We finished by midafternoon, and I took my freshly washed clothes back to my bunk, storing them in my bag. There was a footlocker at the end of the bed, but I hadn’t opened it yet. I couldn’t risk getting too settled here until after I spoke to Ben. He might send me on my way. Even if he didn’t, I’d be wise to keep my backpack ready to go at a moment’s notice, in case I had to flee the camp if the Fort Glacier group came after me.

  I was achy from the laundry, but I felt the need to move around. I wanted to rebuild my stamina and be able to run long distances again. Before the HLV, and the world going to hell, running had been a simple pleasure, along with a way to pay for my education. Now, it could be a lifesaving necessity. The faster and farther I could run, the more likelihood I had of surviving…well, anything.

  I did a few laps around the camp before coming to the garden. Several people were busy on their hands and knees, and I assumed they were weeding. I asked the closest person if they needed help, and he nodded. I spent the rest of the afternoon pulling weeds, which was a familiar job. My father had kept a small organic garden on our property, and everyone in the family was expected to help take care of it. He’d always done the planning and the coordinating, along with the actual planting, but my sisters and I had done most of the weeding. Michael was just learning how when everything had happened.

  I blinked back tears, wondering why I was thinking so much about my family today. Perhaps it was because I finally had a chance to do so. At Fort Glacier, I’d been focused on trying to get through first surviving the virus, and then surviving the experiments they subjected me to afterward as they struggled to identify what had helped me fight off the HLV. They wanted the antibodies in my blood, but they had remained unsuccessful at creating a vaccine or antiviral from them.

  I had been under constant surveillance, and I hadn’t allowed myself the weakness of breaking down emotionally. Now, I was free to do so, but I wasn’t ready. Someday soon, I’d have a long, emotionally exhausting cry, the ugly kind that turned my face red and blotchy and made snot pour from my nose. I couldn’t do that just yet, even if I wanted to. I had weeds to pull, and a meeting with Ben later that night.

  Chapter Four

  I entered Ben’s tent at the appointed meeting time, discovering this one also had a partition that separated what looked like his office from what I assumed were his living quarters. He wasn’t in the office, so I walked to the partition and awkwardly knocked on one of the poles supporting it. It was the closest I could come to knocking on his door.

  A moment later, his hand appeared through the slit in the partition, lifting it out of the way to wave me in. I stepped into his private quarters with a hint of trepidation. I wasn’t afraid of him, and I was certain he wouldn’t attack me. It just felt intimate. Far too close together for my ability to focus.

  Everything was clean and neat, practically Spartan. He had a queen-size mattress and box springs on the floor, a dresser in the corner, and a single armchair. I was actually surprised to see the larger mattress. It seemed like a luxury he wouldn’t have indulged in when everyone else was sleeping on bunks.

  He saw my gaze stray in that direction, and he looked a little embarrassed. “It was already here when I took over t
he job. Director Douche was a self-absorbed asshole.”

  I blinked. “Douche? If you have a name like that, maybe you have to be self-absorbed.”

  He laughed, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “His name was actually David Toose, but it didn’t take long for most of us to start calling him Director Douche. He was always a jerk, but we didn’t realize how bad he was until…” He closed his eyes for a moment as he trailed off. “The incident with Maisie showed us he had to go.”

  It had happened before I arrived, and I didn’t really have a reason or a right to ask, but curiosity prompted me to do so. “What happened with Maisie?”

  He glowered, though it wasn’t directed toward me. That was obvious. “He didn’t take no for an answer. When Maisie escaped him, she told us what had happened, and we dealt with Douche.”

  I recalled his words about having to use the firing squad just once, and I assumed Douche was the person they had used it on. It sounded like he had it coming, and I winced in sympathy as I realized that not only had Maisie conceived the baby under improbable circumstances, but it was one she didn’t want. Or at least she hadn’t wanted the father of the child.

  After a moment, he waved to the chair. “Have a seat.”

  I moved over to the armchair, finding it was as comfortable as it looked. I sank into it with a deep sigh, enjoying the way it stretched my back, which still twinged occasionally from a day of manual labor to which I was unaccustomed. I was physically relaxed, but mentally on edge.

  Ben sat down across from me, taking a corner of the mattress and box springs. There were several feet between us, but it still felt too close. Not because I didn’t want him in my proximity, but because I wanted him there too much. I had to focus.