As she rejoined the sisters, she paused at the window. Across the street, their neighbor Jeremy Nelson stood beside his car with the driver-side door open. He held his cell phone to his ear. Evidently having zero service too, he angrily shoved the device into his pocket.
Amanda bolted to the door. Slinging it open, she yelled, “Jeremy, what are you doing? They said to stay put.”
He stopped to look over his shoulder at her. The dome light showed the anxiety in his face. “Jennifer’s out there. She was working late at the lab, and now—”
“Stay inside,” Amanda ordered the girls before hurrying out to meet her neighbor.
“I can’t leave her out there.”
“The radio said the roads are clogged. What about Zander? Who’s keeping him?” The four-year-old couldn’t stay alone.
“The Singhs are going to keep an eye on him. I—”
“You can’t, Jeremy,” Amanda insisted, catching the car door to prevent him from closing it.
His normally cheerful, open expression turned cold. Though not outspoken in the least, he did value his family. They often took family trips, and played or relaxed in the yard. “Amanda, what would you do if someone you loved was out there?”
“I would want to go, but what could I do for them? Data and cell service are down, so you can’t call her to see how or where she is.”
Jeremy sagged against his vehicle. “I can’t stand being useless.”
“If she can get here, she’ll get here. She might be in one of the safe zones. You know, staying safe.” Possibly the worst comfort she’d ever given anyone. She winced internally.
By this time, other neighbors had begun stepping out of their homes. Like moths to a porch light, they congregated around Amanda and Jeremy. Questions and speculations flew.
“Why don’t we all go back to our houses?” Amanda suggested over the chatter.
A white SUV rolled down the street toward them. It stopped, then a distinguished, middle-aged woman stepped out: Carolyn Blum. Amanda let out a sigh of relief. If anyone could handle this mess, Carolyn could. She headed up the neighborhood homeowners’ association. Amanda served as second to her.
“Everyone,” Carolyn began in a clear voice that carried over the fear and consternation. “I know there’s a lot going on in the city right now. But nothing has happened here. The safest option is to stay in your homes. Please, go back inside, lock the doors, and keep your radios on. I’m certain the authorities will get this sorted out soon.
“Yeah, right, keep calm and carry on?” sneered a short, Hispanic man from the rear of the crowd. Eduardo. He regularly offered dissenting views at community meetings.
“Yes,” Carolyn responded. “Keep a level head, everyone.” With that, she climbed back into her SUV.
“Come on.” Amanda took Jeremy by the elbow and led him back into his house. “Jen will be back when she can. There’s no sense putting yourself at risk too.” If something happened to Jennifer, losing Jeremy would orphan poor Zander. Amanda blinked. Way to jump to the most pessimistic outcome! “Let us know if you need any . . . any help.” But what could she do?
After a night of fitful slumber, seeing the sunrise came as a relief. The alarm clock beside the bed remained blank. No power. Still no data or cell service, either.
Amanda fixed breakfast with the items in the fridge that would spoil the quickest. She didn’t have much appetite, but the girls wolfed down leftovers from supper.
Steeling herself, Amanda turned on the radio, keeping the earbuds in and the report away from the girls.
“—Authorities are doing their best to restore power, but civil unrest has made repairs difficult. We can’t stress enough the importance of staying where you are if the area is safe. Now we have a report from Josephine, one of our correspondents in the field.”
“Thank you, Steve. I have a witness to the civil unrest. What did you see, sir?”
A nervous voice responded, “People are being crazy! I saw four guys jump on another guy. I don’t know if it was gang bangers hopped up on some drug, or what. They just started chewing on him like they were animals! I—”
“Thank you, sir. It’s clear that the attacks are taking a toll on the most fragile among us.”
Amanda switched off the radio. “When the power and phones come back on, we’ll know the city’s gotten things straightened out.”
“No electricity,” Denver sighed. “This is going to be really boring.”
“You have homework to do. Both of you,” Amanda added before Taylor could say something condescending to her sister.
Amanda stepped outside. She should speak with Carolyn and see if any of the neighbors needed help. Jeremy’s car remained in the driveway. Common sense had prevailed, apparently.
As Amanda started down the sidewalk, an Escalade rolled down the street. The SUV pulled into the Nelsons’ driveway. “Jennifer?” Amanda stopped.
The door to the Nelsons’ house burst open. Jeremy dashed out, with little Zander trotting behind him in the clumsy run of a preschooler.
“Jennifer?” Jeremy used the car to stop his momentum, then yanked the door open.
“Mommy?” Zander asked, stopping a few feet behind his dad.
“Are you all right?” Jeremy supported his wife as she eased out of the vehicle.
Amanda jogged across the street. “Do you need help?”
Jennifer took a gulping breath. Pale, sweaty, she looked like she’d caught the flu. She coughed, covering her mouth. It sounded wet. “I—” She coughed again.
“Take your time, honey. I’m just glad you’re home.” Jeremy laughed in nervous relief as he stroked his wife’s long, blond hair.
“Mommy, we missed you!” Zander exclaimed as he ducked under his father’s arm to crawl up with his mother.
“Hi, baby,” she wheezed. “Now get down. Mommy’s not feeling well.”
“What is it?” Jeremy asked, as pale as his wife.
“I—” She coughed into her elbow. Her blood-shot eyes attempted to focus on his face. “Was leaving work. Caught in traffic. Saw somebody on the sidewalk. He looked sick. Thought I recognized him from the gym—” She stopped for more coughing. “I tried to help.” Another fit of wheezing seized her. “He coughed on me, then he . . . he threw up on me. I took my jacket off. Think I still got . . . some on me.” She slumped back into the seat, gulping air. “Not sure, but . . . maybe it’s something we were working on. It didn’t escape our lab. It couldn’t have. We don’t have it.” Her eyes went wide. Panic drained the last of her color.
“What is it? Honey”—Jeremy leaned closer—“you’re not feeling good. You feel hot. I think you might be—what is it, delusional?”
“Delirious,” Amanda supplied. “Come on, Jeremy, let’s get her inside.”
Between them, they half led, half carried Jennifer into the house.
“Is Mommy going to be all right?” Zander quavered.
“She’ll be fine, Zander,” Amanda assured him over her shoulder, forcing a smile.
When they reached the bedroom, they lowered Jennifer onto the queen-sized bed. Sweat beaded on her forehead and soaked her shirt. Jeremy gathered pillows to prop her up and ease her breathing. “I can call 9-1-1,” he panted. “You might have a really bad case of the flu. They—”
“I’ll do it,” Amanda volunteered as she went to their landline. She picked up the receiver, but no dial tone greeted her. Still no cell service, either. Great, now what could she do?
She returned to the husband and wife. “The phones aren’t working.” Mouth dry, she gripped the door jamb, nails biting into the wood. “We’ll just have to keep her comfortable.”
Jennifer doubled over in a coughing fit. Blood spotted her arm as she lowered her elbow. She stared at it but either didn’t comprehend or didn’t truly see it. Then she jerked as if coming out of a dream. “Jeremy, promise me, if I get really sick—if I don’t act normal—you’ll keep me safe. And keep Zander safe. Just—” She gagged. Her face mu
scles twitched. “Tell him I love him. Keep him safe.” A tear rolled down her cheek as she collapsed against the pillows.
“Mommy?” Zander whispered from beside Amanda.
“Come on, kiddo,” Amanda encouraged the boy as she directed him away from the room. “Are you hungry? Did you have breakfast yet?”
“Is Mommy going to be okay?” He looked back at the bedroom.
“Sure.” Hopefully. Amanda forced a smile.
She found breakfast half-eaten in the kitchen. “Mac and cheese, ooh! Looks good. Finish up.” She guided him to his plate.
“It’s cold.” He frowned at the yellow mess.
“All right. I’ll see—”
“Jennifer, what’s the matter? What are you doing? No—” Jeremy’s voice rang from down the hall.
“Stay here.” Amanda patted the boy’s shoulder as she dodged around the kitchen island.
She hurried down the hallway. Ahead, Jeremy backed halfway out of the room. He stared into it with utter confusion and shock. Wheezing came from within. He stepped inside again.
Amanda slowed as she reached the doorway. Jennifer was crouching on the bed. Her skin had turned as pale as a chicken before it’s cooked. Her mouth hung slightly open. Black drool dribbled from the corner. It looked like oil. She let out a wheezing hiss: Ssssaaaahhh. The room’s murk hid the details, but the woman’s eyes bulged, and blisters stood out on her face.
“I’ll get help, honey.” Jeremy retreated, one hand out toward his wife. “Stay here.”
She crawled forward, her gaze locked on the man. Another hiss like static escaped her. Then she lunged off the edge of the bed. Her claw-like fingers missed Jeremy by inches.
“Move!” Amanda yelped as she jerked Jeremy into the hall. She slammed the door closed. She couldn’t lock it from here—
Thuds, scratching, and hissing came from the other side. The doorknob rattled but didn’t turn. Had Jennifer’s delirium made her forget how to use a knob?
What did the guy on the news say? A gang jumping on people? People attacking one another like animals? And then what Jennifer said about the lab . . . But she worked at a company that developed anticancer drugs. The fever must have impaired her thinking.
“Jennifer,” Jeremy panted. “Stay here. I’ll get help. I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise,” he choked, grimacing as if undergoing an amputation without anesthetic. Leaning his head against the door, he sniffed back tears. One escaped.
Amanda put her hand on his back. “I’m going to get Carolyn, all right? I’ll take Zander. Stay here; make sure Jennifer is . . .” What? Contained? “Is safe.” Leaving him might not prove the best idea, but what choice did she have?
“Come on, Zander,” she said as she scooped him up. Grunting, she maneuvered him onto her hip as she made for the exit.
Surely Carolyn would know what was going on. A few neighbors had RVs with satellite TV, and a few others had generators. Carolyn would check the news reports on TV.
Speak of the devil: Carolyn’s white SUV appeared at the intersection and turned down Keelson Circle, Amanda’s street.
As Amanda crossed to her house, Carolyn pulled into its driveway.
“What’s the matter?” the older woman asked, exiting her vehicle.
“Jennifer Nelson isn’t feeling well. Um, Zander”—Amanda looked down at the inquisitive boy—“go in and say hi to the girls.”
“Okay.” Scuffing his feet, he traipsed to the door.
The sisters watched from the window, their faces pale. Images of Jennifer’s bloodless visage flashed in Amanda’s mind. She shook her head. “Carolyn, what does the news say? Is there some sort of weird sickness? Because she—Jennifer—tried to attack Jeremy. She’s drooling black mucus and looks like death warmed over.” Hearing the description made it sound all the more preposterous—and horrifying.
“I’ve seen some of the reports.” Carolyn cast a concerned glance after Zander. He went inside, out of earshot. “It looks like the news networks are attempting to suppress the information, but a few scenes did get through. They appeared, at least at a distance, to show people similar to your description of Jennifer. They were attacking other people.”
“We have to get her help—”
“That’s part of why I came to find you, Amanda. The Army has come with a truck of water and canned goods. It’s not much, but they said more will be on the way.”
“Maybe they could help her!” Amanda brightened.
“I . . .” Carolyn looked compulsively at the Nelsons’ house. “There are also reports of military and law enforcement killing people like her. They warn not to engage the . . . affected.”
“You mean—” Amanda stared at the older woman. “You mean we might have to—”
Carolyn put a hand on Amanda’s arm. “If Jeremy can keep her safe and managed, she might be better off than if we tell the Army about her. We should wait, in my opinion, until we have more information. I want to keep everyone together as much as we can. We’re safer as a community. And, Amanda, if you’re willing, I need your help. I can’t keep us together by myself.” She suddenly looked ten years older.
“I . . .” Amanda had to protect her girls and her community. She could handle this. At work, she evaluated employees’ performance, suggested candidates for employment, and organized HR projects. How different could this be? She met Carolyn’s steady gaze. “I’ll help.”
Amanda and Carolyn arranged for a few of the neighborhood residents to assist with getting Jennifer into the Nelsons’ garage. They chose that location due to the risk of contagion Jennifer’s black vomit and saliva posed.
The neighbors blocked off the hallways, forming a chute into the garage. Then they positioned the nervous and heartbroken Jeremy at the end of it as bait. Amanda winced at the word. Not bait, but encouragement.
Poor Jennifer, who knew what horrors she suffered in the delirious dream world in which she existed? Was she aware of her actions? Did she watch herself attack her own husband, all the while struggling to stop? Or had her conscious mind slipped into darkness?
Amanda opened the door to the bedroom before darting back behind the plywood chute wall.
Shoulders back, head forward, Jennifer shuffled out. Her body twitched as if random electric currents arced over her muscles. She hissed to herself.
“Jennifer? I’m here, honey,” Jeremy’s voice echoed down the hall.
Her head shot up. “Sssssaaaaaaahhh.” She shambled forward, dragging her left shoulder along the wall to support herself. Black oil dribbled from the corner of her mouth. In the light, her eyes appeared rust orange. Blisters marred her face, a few draining clear fluid.
She rounded the corner and disappeared. A moment later, hissing followed, then the slam of the garage service door.
“All clear,” called one of the neighbors.
With a sigh of relief, Amanda slumped against the wall. “Thank God.”
She located Jeremy. “Are you all right keeping an eye on her?” she asked, taking him by both shoulders so he had to meet her gaze.
He rubbed his eyes with his shirt. “Y-yes. I’ll keep her safe, like I promised her.”
“We can watch Zander—”
“No, I want us together.” Misery contorted Jeremy’s face. “He’s had enough stress; I want him to be with me.”
Doubt’s cold breath chilled Amanda. “I’ll go get him.”
The rest of the day passed uneventfully. Darkness fell—hard. Here and there, lights glowed in windows.
Amanda sent the girls to bed but stayed up for a few hours to keep watch. She leaned against the sill of the living-room window, toying with the tail of her braid.
Outside, near the Nelsons’ house, a figure moved. Amanda froze, breath dying. Looters? Terrorists?
Two people wandered onto Keelson Circle. They looked about in apparent bewilderment. Their unsteady gait resembled the stumble of drunks. Then one threw back its head like a wolf howling. The moonlight caught his pale skin. No
, maybe the illumination just drained the color—
Then the man took a few running steps. With each step, his torso fell farther forward. Then his hands hit the ground as if he set up for a push-up. His rear legs came up; he lunged forward. It resembled a twisted version of a lion’s lope. His companion joined him as they bounded down the street. The darkness swallowed them.
Amanda gulped. Why didn’t the stupid news play anything useful? Like, what the hell this infection was, and what it did to the people who contracted it. She lowered the blind, then checked every lock in the house.
Sunday morning, thirty-six hours since the attacks. Still no power, no cell service, no data. Radio broadcasts warned not to drink water from the tap without purifying it first.
Amanda and the girls had eaten through the refrigerator’s contents. Now Amanda cooked a steak on the grill. It sizzled, juices glazing its surface. She lifted it onto a plate. Then she splashed steak sauce on the meat. Some of the dark liquid splattered the white glass. Scenes of Jennifer and her black drool shoved their way into Amanda’s mind. Grunting, she shook her head.
“Breakfast’s ready, kids,” she called as she stepped inside the house.
“Great!” Denver exclaimed. She and Taylor took seats at the breakfast bar.
A knock came at the door.
When Amanda reached it, she pressed her eye to the peephole. Carolyn waited outside.
Amanda opened the door. “I’m glad to see you. I was going to contact you after the girls had breakfast. I saw something last night—”
“Many of our neighbors did.” Carolyn looked grave. “There were strangers here, apparently.”
Thank God someone else saw them. “They seemed like they might be under the influence, or sick.” Sick like Jennifer. Like the people on the news who attacked others.
“We will begin posting guards to warn us of trespassers. Even if the affected—that’s what the news is calling them—aren’t as dangerous as the authorities say, looters may find us soon. It’s been almost two days since the power failed. Law enforcement is having difficulty restoring order in the city.”
Undead Worlds 2: A Post-Apocalyptic Zombie Anthology Page 16
