INFECTED (Click Your Poison)

by James Schannep

  You awoke with the buzzing of the cell doors. You were locked in? Must be to make sure you weren’t infected—you make a mental note to ask about that later. Rested and showered (again… and it still feels amazing!), you head to the chow hall for breakfast. Powdered eggs never tasted so good.

  “Good morning! I trust you slept well?” You look up from your seat to see a smartly dressed woman carrying an attaché case. “May I join you?”

  You nod your consent through crunches of bacon. Coffee and orange juice elate you all the more. “You’re welcome to furnish your cell however you like; that’s your personal space now. Think of it as an apartment. There should be plenty of time for that in the coming weeks.”

  “An apartment that only locks from the outside?”

  She smiles before answering. “Only on the first night; for our own safety. We find it’s less invasive than a strip-search, wouldn’t you agree? Now then, the Pastor has said—”

  “The Colonel?” you ask.

  “The very same,” she says with another smile, opening her case. “He’s said you can feel free to look around the grounds, but he’d like to see you in the command center at your earliest convenience. Here’s a map of Salvation, if you need anything—ask anyone. We’re a community of neighbors.” Then she’s gone, floating away on her gregarious personality.

  Looks like it’s time to explore; after a second helping, that is. Where to?

  • The “Happy Room” sounds fun. I could use some more pampering after this ordeal.

  • “Fitness/Power Area”? Color me interested.

  • The “Armory.” Sold.

  • Straight to the “Command Post.” I bet Lucas and Rosie are already there.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  My, What a View

  You’re on the rooftop; it’s bathed in the dark of night, but the moon is full and there’s enough starlight so you can see without fear of tripping or falling off the edge. It’s amazing how many more stars there are above the city now that the power’s out. Except in your school, oh yes, you have power now. As you look around, you see your building is the only one that does. This night keeps getting better.

  There’s no sign of Sims. Cooper tries to call him up on the radio, but there’s no answer.

  “It’s cold up here,” Hefty complains, wearing only his white tee.

  “You know what, Doc?” Cooper says to Deleon in a voice only he’s supposed to hear. “I didn’t think you had it in you to end the world. I always pegged you for one of those limp-dicked nice guys. Guess you better watch out; I always fall for assholes.”

  Deleon opens his mouth to respond, but the sound that comes out is a siren. It comes from a speaker just behind him as the rooftop comes to life: two gigantic searchlights activate and begin to move. A red and blue strobe flashes.

  And that siren wails.

  Deleon’s mouth is still open, his face suffused in alternating red and blue. “Oh, fuck,” he whispers. Then the city awakens. Zombies pour out of every crevice: crash out of windows with terrible bone snaps, only to get up again. They flood out of doors of buildings, rise from gutters and sewers, and bleed from every orifice in the city—and they’re all headed your way.

  Cooper screams into the radio, “Sims! SIMS! Turn it off, turn it off!”

  “Basement!” you yell, “Power’d be in the basement.”

  You sprint down the roof access stairwell toward the basement with the group. Halfway down the landing, you’re met by Sims on his way up. Cooper crashes into him, both hands grabbing his shirt, and slamming him against the wall.

  Sims looks genuinely surprised. “Don’t you get it? Rescue’s coming.”

  “Rescue!?” she screams with ferocity.

  “Sims, you just put a giant ‘eat me’ sign right on our forehead,” Tyberius explains.

  “This is our best chance. If it attracts a few of those things, so be it! We have defenses and now rescue’s coming, so…”

  “Yeah, rescue in the form of a gun with one bullet,” Hefty says and mime-shoots himself in the head.

  “Come on, Sims. We’re turning it off; it’s unanimous,” Deleon tells him.

  The two of you rush down to the basement, all of you in full panic until he finally makes it to the controls and turns off the switch. “Alarms are off,” he says. “If it were up to me, they’d be on, but they’re off.”

  Tyberius shakes his head and sighs, “You have got to be the dumbest-ass white man I ever met.”

  “Hey, sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me, okay?” In response, Tyberius takes out the hockey stick secured to his back and cracks Sims across the shoulder with it. Sims cries out in pain.

  “Hey! Now is not the time for us to turn on each other,” you say. “They’re coming for us now; what’s the plan?”

  All eyes to Cooper. “Battle stations,” she says. “We need to ensure the entrance barricades will hold, and then use the cafeteria as our home base.”

  • Check Area One with Tyberius.

  • Check Area Two with Hefty.

  • Check Area Three with Sims.

  • Secure the cafeteria with Deleon, Cooper and Guillermo.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  The Nachtmare

  Cooper looks as if you’d just struck her. “Whatever the reason they’re here, it’s not for us. We can leave them be,” you say. “Especially if there’s a cure. They came here when they were sick, to be cared for, and were probably looked after with great difficulty until they had to be locked up.”

  The other members of the group nod solemnly. Wherever these words are coming from, they ring true amongst your companions. And Cooper may be the leader, but her grip on the group isn’t so firm that she can spit in the face of your reasoning.

  “Then you can have first watch, Newbie,” she says, her eyes narrow slits. “Back to the annex—let’s try and get some sleep.”

  “I can’t stay here,” Angelica says, shaking her head and looking to the floor.

  Sims puts an arm about her shoulder and walks back down the hall with her. “It’s just one night; It’ll be okay. We need the rest, so…”

  * * *

  A “Nightmare” was originally a very specific thing: the mare that came in the night. Not originally a horse, the “mare” comes from an antiquated term for a demon or incubus that would terrorize unlucky victims in their dreams. Later, the terms merged, so this goblin took the form of a great horse that would come and sit on your chest. This was meant to explain why some waking nightmares would paralyze the dreamer, leaving you unable to move or breathe.

  Angelica screams out. You look back, still on watch, and the rest of the group awakens. She’s slick with sweat and shaking with terror. Between gasping breaths, she shouts, “I have to get out of here. I can’t do this anymore, I can’t do this!”

  The moaning from the air vent, which never fully left, intensifies. You had just forgotten it was there, like the hum of the engines on a long airline flight.

  “Shut up!” Cooper gets up from the wall she was resting against and pulls Angelica up from the floor.

  “Please! You have to let me go!” Without a word, Cooper drags Angelica over to the candle closet and throws her in amongst altar robes and acolytes’ tools. An oil can rolls out, but Cooper kicks it back in at Angelica, spraying oil all over the closet. She slams the door and turns back, staring at the group, begging to be challenged.

  Guillermo shrugs, rolls over, and goes back to sleep. One by one, so do the rest. Then it’s just you, alone with your thoughts again. Although that’s not entirely true; there are moans to keep you company.

  About half an hour later, just after Angelica’s whimpers end, Deleon’s wristwatch alarm goes off. When those around him stir, he says, “Time to change the guard.” He stands up and heads into the bathroom. Several minutes later, he comes out to relieve you. “Get some sleep,” he says.

  “What about Angelica?”

  He nods tiredly. “I be
t she’s fallen asleep. But you’re right, it’d be a nice gesture to let her out.”

  You walk over to the closet but stop before you arrive. Great heat radiates off the wooden porthole. Even now, though only in your mind, you can still hear her jiggling the handle from inside. Black dust dances at the base of the doorframe.

  “Angelica?” you whisper. You touch the door handle, but recoil with a searing heat as great as if you’d just touched a stove. You look to Deleon, whose face is awash with concern.

  He frowns and his brow tightens. “Hand me your axe,” he says. As he approaches the door, wisps of smoke snake out slowly from within. Then, just as he’s pulling back to swing, the smoke is actually sucked back in, just like you’re watching the world on rewind.

  As the axe pierces the wood, the door explodes out with a ball of fire. Deleon flies back into you and you both crash back onto the floor. A large chunk of the door deflects off his cast arm and the debris expands outward at such an extreme rate that—miraculously—most of it misses you. Globs of molten candle wax hurl past your head like lava.

  The rest of the group is wide awake. “Get the doc and the newbie out of here, now!” Cooper commands. Sims and Guillermo pull you out while Tyberius and Hefty take Deleon. Cooper stays inside.

  It takes a moment, but you recover your breath and you’re able to sit up straight. You look to Deleon; the other guys are in a semi-circle around you, looking toward the annex. “You okay?” Deleon wheezes out.

  You nod. Cooper finally rushes out from the flame-ensconced building. “No sign of Angelica!” she yells out. You and Deleon shake your heads in unison.

  “The closet,” you say through a raspy voice.

  “Was it an accident?” Tyberius asks. “Maybe she tried to light a candle and all that oil…”

  “No, she was smarter than that,” Sims says.

  Everyone seems to be getting it now. Guillermo crosses himself. Cooper stands before you, the brand of exhausted anger on her face usually reserved for the sleepless parents of a fussy newborn.

  “There were no screams,” you offer to the group.

  “There wouldn’t be,” Deleon replies. “An oil fire would pull the air from the room before she had a chance—and the backdraft.”

  Sims shakes his head solemnly. “It was this place,” he says. “She never talked about it, but when we were traveling together, she avoided churches like, like the—she just wouldn’t have anything to do with them.”

  “She just couldn’t take it anymore,” Hefty says, more to himself than the group.

  “It’s just so goddamned final,” Tyberius says with anger.

  All eyes look to Cooper. You can tell she’s floundering for something to say, but whether it’s to blame herself or to shirk any responsibility, you couldn’t say.

  “Oh, shit—all our stuff!” Sims yells suddenly.

  Deleon forces himself to his feet, struggling in spite of the firecracker that burst into his chest only moments ago. You hurt like hell, and he took the brunt of the shockwave, so you know getting up is a feat. “I need to get my pack. I can get it,” Deleon says, staggering forward.

  “No way, Doc. Not worth it,” Cooper answers with a hand against his chest.

  “You don’t understand—my work, my life, everything!”

  As Guillermo and Tyberius pull Deleon away from the fire, Sims offers you a hand and you take the opportunity to rise to your feet. With each passing moment you regain more and more of your strength, but you still feel like you got hit by a city bus. A city bus covered in flames.

  “Let’s go,” you say. “Something like this will surely draw them in.”

  “Sorry, kids, naptime is cancelled!” Hefty shouts with a wry smile.

  • Stagger away from the flames.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Nice Jugs

  “This dolly might help,” the engineer says, indicating a wheeled cart, large and flat. You nod your thanks and clear the sound equipment off the thing. With a fresh clip loaded into your shotgun—what is that, number three?—you prepare to head out. Lucas agrees to escort the engineer while Rosie gets the rope from the jeep. You take the rear with your ungainly cart, but the hall isn’t all that full of zombies yet, so it shouldn’t be too bad.

  Rosie takes the lead, pelting off headshots at those in the hall with her massive pistol. If any weapon is oversized for the small punch it packs, it’s this one. But with a one-hundred round capacity, it’s necessarily so.

  The ghouls fall down before her with ease, and since she’s got ammo to spare, she’s putting two slugs in each cranium before they fall to the floor. The hall is fairly wide, but these bodies are still cluttering the way before your cart. You press the handlebar down to pop the front wheels up, then lift to go over with the back wheels. It’s tedious, but you make it past the corpses.

  At the turn of the hall, passage is impossible with your cart. Lucas Tesshu’s grenade toss made certain of that. Instead, you’ll have to progress back and forth from the entrance to the power room to ferry the water jugs over the carnage.

  Your three companions rush out the front door, leaving just you and death inside. You run to the power room, ensure it’s clear, then sling your AA-12 to free up your arms. The jugs are painfully heavy, and you can only shuttle one at a time in an awkward, humping jog.

  As your drop your fifth jug off on the dolly, there’s an undead woman waiting for you there. You backpedal toward the power room while unslinging your shotgun and taking aim. Making sure your line of sight won’t cause collateral damage to the jugs on the cart, you blast her away.

  One more jug oughta do it.

  • Meet up with everybody by the tower.

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Nice Try

  “You’re funny, I like that in a janitor.” Dr. Phoenix says. “But you may want to have your hearing checked. I said there would be no human testing.” He opens a safe and starts putting his files into it, while adding, “Hurry up and finish. I’ve got places to be.”

  • “I’m surprised you’re still here. If I were you, I’d be taking my own wonder drug, then partying it up like I wasn’t gonna live forever.”

  • Finish mopping while he hides anything of use. Next stop? Deleon’s office!

  • Finish mopping while he hides anything of use. Next stop? Rodent Testing!

  MAKE YOUR CHOICE

  Night of the Living Swamp

  You turn and flee. Through the marshes. Alone. At night. Perhaps if you were sitting in an armchair contemplating the zombie apocalypse, you’d know better than to sprint into the dark void just because of a single zombie. But then again, perhaps not—after all, you chose to enter one of the most dangerous ecosystems in an infected world. And now you’re alone. At night.

  Either way, you’re too fueled on panic and adrenaline to think rationally now. All that exists are the strides you take. You slosh noisily through the water, each step becoming more difficult than the last as the mud sucks at your legs. Muscle fatigue comes quickly, but you keep moving.

  The uneven ground proves treacherous. Every time you step down, the bottom of the bog is at a different level. Sometimes you’re climbing, other times you’re sinking. Once you even fall into chest-deep slough. But the real danger is in your footing. One stray root can twist an ankle, and then your chance of survival plummets to around zero.

  Without a flashlight, you can’t see anything. Even the moon is blotted out by clouds and forest canopy. You’re so blind you have to keep your hands up to protect your face, as the dark green foliage, black in the night, cuts and scrapes against your body without warning.

  Then your feet give out from under you and you slide down a slope you didn’t even know was there. Thick mud pours down with you and before you know it, you splash into a turbid pool, choked with sediment. You sink down into the earth; it swallows you whole.

  The muck has you trapped from the groin down, and the water surrounds you up to chin level. You search the area with
frantic eyes, hoping for a vine or something you can grasp to pull yourself free. The closest thing is a mass of wood and debris—rotten fallen logs—just out of arm’s reach.

  But you’ve still got your axe! You stretch forward as much as you can, knees buckling and shins bowing under the strain, and hook the axe head over the biggest log. You pull, and the bunch breaks free. You’re able to grab a hold of the big log, but you quickly realize that the water level is rising. You’ve just freed a dam; either it’s clogged runoff or a beaver home.

  Despite your grip on the log, the bog’s grip on you doesn’t wane. The gross water rises up over your mouth and you tip your head back to breathe. Nonetheless, it keeps rising, over your mouth, nose and even your eyes.

  Now you’re truly blind, and unable to breathe. You struggle hard, pulling and tugging at your legs, but you only get more firmly rooted in and waste more breath. Soon, the life leaves your body as you get sucked deeper into the estuary.

  Goddamn beavers.

  THE END

  Night School

  You head toward the building with the searchlights, but shortly after you begin your walk, the sirens and lights shut off. The main building still shines with electricity, so you keep going. By the time you finally arrive at Montgomery-Packard High School, the crowd of immortals numbers in the hundreds of thousands. This is the only action is the city, and everybody wants a piece.

  One of the entrances is already breached, and you rush in with the rest of them. Once you’re inside, you see several humans down the hallway—jackpot! One shoots an arrow above your head and explodes a bag of blood that was secured in the corner. Human blood drips down the wall and you stop to lick it. Hey, that’s not a living person…

  Frustrated, you turn and continue toward the human group. There’s a guy you might recognize as Dr. Lewis Deleon (if you still recognized people), the redneck with the bow, an athletic black man, and a tough-looking woman in motorcycle gear. They head up the stairs to the second level of the school.