The Seven Habits

by William Todd Rose

  She puckered her lips as if she were about to kiss him on the cheek. Instead, she drew up a glob of phlegm from the back of her throat with a quick inhale. She spat, smiling as the goo slid through the shadow of a beard on the face she’d once thought possessed angelic perfection.

  Gauge toppled over like a puppet whose strings had been cut. He lay on the ground, breathing shallowly, blood continuing to drain from his missing hands.

  “O… Ocean.”

  Corduroy. His voice was a soft whisper as he struggled to open his eyes.

  “Shoulda k-killed him long time ago.”

  Part of her wanted to ask why. Why had he come to her aid, why had he given his life in an attempt to free her? It was obvious the man didn’t have much time left. There was too much blood, his skull too shattered. She simply let him talk, listening in silence.

  “D-didn’t… know. Where were you. Where you were. Didn’t kn-know. Tried to warn…”

  Corduroy’s eye looked hazy somehow, as if an invisible fog were churning within the bloodshot orb. The pupil dilated rapidly, adjusting to a change in light that only he could see. He blinked several times.

  Then something changed. A long wheeze strained his vocal chords, and Corduroy’s back arched as some sort of current seemed to jolt through his body. At first, Ocean thought he was having another one of his fits, his final fit, perhaps. But as the air whooshed out of his lungs, his muscles relaxed and he struggled to raise his head and hands so he could look at them. They shook so badly, however, that he simply didn’t seem to have the strength to hold them up. His arms slumped to his sides and he swallowed once as he laid his head back into the puddle of his own blood.

  “What the fuck, man? I’m fuckin’ dying? Aw, shit… shit, man, it fuckin’ hurts.”

  Ocean gasped when she heard the voice coming out of the burned man’s mouth. It still had the same raspy gurgle, but the cadence and word choice… the tone… it was the same as the voice she used to hear in the back of her own mind. The voice that she hadn’t heard since the night Gauge had hit her.

  Ocean’s sharp intake of air caused Corduroy’s eye to look directly at her. The haze which had seemed to obscure it earlier was gone now and, somehow, it almost looked younger.

  “Ocean! Ocean, honey…”

  He raised his arm again and extended his trembling hand toward her.

  “I found you… finally found you. I remember! Gauge. Levi. I knew… knew they’d lead me to you. And I was gonna take you away. Where you’d be safe. So safe. Fuck, man. The babies… the poor, poor babies.”

  A tear slid from the corner of Corduroy’s eye and he bit his bottom lip. His voice quivered with emotion and his gaze dropped, almost as if he couldn’t bring himself to meet her eyes.

  “Never ate them. Never. Fuck, Ocean. Life’s… life’s always tryin’ to make me buy those fuckin’ brownies, man. Mother-fuckin’ brownies. But you. You’re all that matters. All that ever mattered.”

  Corduroy’s words degraded into a series of coughs that sprayed a mist of blood, but within moments he’d regained his compsure.

  “Eye’s callin’ me back, baby girl. I don’t regret… I don’t regret a…”

  The clouds seem to roll back into his good eye, obscuring the clarity that had graced it momentarily, and then he laid perfectly still. She watched him for a moment, realizing that the questions that haunted her would go unanswered forever.

  She would give him the death rite, of course, even if he had been insane. For whatever reason he’d had in his deformed head, he’d tried to help her. Had helped her, in fact. For that, at least, he deserved a true and lasting death.

  There would be time for that. For now, there were more immediate concerns to attend to. Pebble, for one. Had Corduroy killed him as well as Levi? If not, would he have fled? Would he attack her? She hoped he wouldn’t… she really didn’t want to kill the little boy, but, at the same time, she knew she could if she were forced to.

  Gauge mumbled thickly like a man in the throes of a bad dream. He, of course, was the most pressing matter.

  Ocean walked across the hall to where Vessel’s body was still splayed out and grabbed her by the ankles. The woman was heavy and Ocean could only pull her in short bursts; but eventually she was able to maneuver the corpse into the cell which the woman had known so intimately. She placed the body on the bed of paper and took a moment to catch her breath.

  When Gauge came to, it was to the sound of Ocean’s voice. She spoke softly from the other side of the door, her voice the same gentle lull with which she’d used to sing Baby to sleep.

  “Hey, sleepyhead. How’s it feel to be on the other side? You like it in there? Kind of smells funny doesn’t it?”

  “You cut off my hands, you little bitch.”

  Gauge spoke between clenched teeth and his face contorted with pain. Ocean giggled behind her hand; she wiggled the tips of her fingers at him as she stuck out her tongue.

  “Oh hey,” she said brightly. “Looks like someone else is waking up, too.”

  Behind him, Vessel’s body had begun to twitch. Spasms wracked her muscles and her eyelids flew open.

  “Now this,” Ocean continued. “I gotta see.”

  The thing that had once been Vessel staggered to its feet while Gauge scuttled into the furthest corner of the cell. It’s head snapped in the direction of his movement and his shrill cry of terror echoed through the undergrounds tunnels.

  It wouldn’t take long. Once it was over, Ocean thought, she’d go to the kitchen and see if she could rustle up something to eat. With Heaven at her disposal, she would never be hungry again, never have to worry about where her next meal was coming from.

  She was pretty sure that Corduroy hadn’t killed Baby. In fact, she’d thought she heard his cries a little earlier and it had brought a smile to her face. She would make sure her little boy grew up loved and protected… she would make sure he never went without. And she would have someone who would love her, without motives or conditions, for the rest of her life.

  No one would ever hurt her again.

  EPILOUGE

  Alfonso Davis swiped his plastic badge through the reader and the door responded with a click. In the fluorescent light, his uniform looked crisp and white, only the sweat stains blossoming from the armpits discoloring the fabric. He wasn’t exactly fat, but he was what his mother had always called big boned. His cocoa colored brow glistened beneath an ever-present sheen of perspiration. He let go of the badge and the string pulled it back to the clip on his pocket with a quick zip.

  “I stuck my neck out to get you this job. Don’t you go fuckin’ me over, Donny. You hear?”

  The man at his side was much smaller, with skin almost as pale as the scrubs they both wore. His hair was a shock of white and he looked up at his friend with red eyes.

  “You can count on me, ‘Fonso. I appreciate it too, dude. That nursing home was getting to be a real buzz kill.”

  The pair walked down a hallway that had been polished to the point streaks of light seemed to race ahead of them with every step.

  “I’ll piss your asshole if do.”

  Donny laughed and slapped his hand against his friend’s meaty shoulder.

  “What the hell, man? What the fuck does that even mean? I’ll piss your asshole? Who says that?”

  Alfonso stiffened for a moment and shot Donny one of the looks that had always preceded some geek getting an ass-beating when the two were in high school. Then his expression softened as he smiled.

  “Didn’t get much sleep last night.”

  “Yeah, where were you, man? Thought you were coming over to catch the game.”

  “Nah, went to Vibrations instead. After the day I had yesterday, I just wanted to get my drunk on. Never goin’ back there again, though. Place waters down their liquor, man. I’ve pissed higher alcohol content than that shit.”

  Alfonso glanced around to make sure no one was within ear shot, and leaned in close as he lowered his voice to a whisp
er.

  “Ended up hookin’ up with this cute little Asian number. Bitch was all into me, man. Took her back to the crib and got my freak on’.”

  “You dog.” Donny was grinning so widely it looked like his face would collapse into his own mouth. His eyes twinkled as he nudged Alfonso in the ribs with his elbow. “You get breakfast out of it, too?”

  “Hell no, playa. Sent that bitch packin’ and headed back out for more pimpin’.”

  “Oh, man… you’re too much.”

  “Shit, you know how it is. Once you’ve had Chinese, you just want more two hours later.”

  The pair’s laughter echoed through the hallway and drew a stern look from a nurse who passed by, a tray of little cups balanced on her hands.

  “Straighten up, now. Gotta show you the day room. Time to get all professional and shit.”

  The end of the hall led into a larger room clustered with tables and chairs. Soft music was playing through the overhead speakers and the babble of conversation seemed to surround the two on all sides.

  “See that dude, there?” Alfonso pointed out an old man with thinning hair, piecing together a jigsaw at one of the tables.

  “I call him Torch. You don’t ever want to leave your lighter layin’ out anywhere around him. Best to keep it in your locker, actually. He’s got this thing with fire… burned up this family because the flames talk to him. Or so he says.”

  “No shit?”

  “No shit, man. And that dude over there, that’s Prophet. God tells him to do things to little kids. Bad things, man. See, I’m not fuckin’ around. You gotta watch your ass around here. They look normal enough, don’t they, but you never can tell when someone’s been tonguing their meds. They can snap just like that.”

  Alfonso snapped his fingers, causing his friend to jump slightly.

  “Torch done tried to burn this place to the ground half a dozen times already. You’re not careful and one of these days he’ll actually do it.”

  Donny’s eyes scanned the room and picked out a bearded man in the far corner. The man was leaning forward, gesturing wildly with one hand as he appeared to lecture the pair who sat across from him. His other hand clutched a red book to his chest, and Donny squinted his eyes as he tried to make it out. The man’s arm was covering the title, but it was obviously a children’s book of some kind. He could just make out what looked to be a teddy bear in ribbed overalls on the cover.

  “What about him? What’s his story?”

  “Shit, nigga… you don’t know who that is?”

  Donny studied the man and shook his head with a shrug.

  “Okay, he’s been cleaned up. Picture that dude with longer hair, scraggly beard, and—”

  “Oh, fuck! Damn man, that’s that Bosley guy ain’t it? The one hacked up that chick ‘cause he thought she was a zombie? You got the Zombie Killer in here?”

  Alfonso laughed.

  “Sits in that same spot each day like he’s in some interrogation room, going over the same story again and again. C’mon. I’ll introduce you to our star patient.”

  Donny let Alfonso lead the way and, even though he wasn’t aware he was doing so, he allowed the larger man to partially shield him.

  “What’s the deal with the book?” he whispered. “Never pictured the Zombie Killer readin’ kiddy books.”

  “Says it’s for Ocean. Now shut your pie hole, man.”

  They were only a few feet from the man now, and Donny felt the hairs on his arms tingle. Alfonso’s words haunted him with every step: they can snap just like that.

  “Yo, Corduroy,” Alfonso said softly. “Would you do it again, brother?”

  The Zombie Killer turned to look at them, recognizing his own nickname and the orderly’s voice.

  “Fuck, don’t you ever listen? I’d do anything to keep her fuckin’ safe. And I’ll find her, man. I’ll find her and I’ll make sure she’s taken care of and shit. She’s my Ocean, dig?”

  The man’s eyes rolled back into his head and his entire body began to shake and tremble. Spittle frothed from his mouth and his heels kicked at the floor as his fists clenched in a fury of spasms.

  “Ah, shit… he’s in the Eye of Aeons, now. C’mon. Nurses take care of this stuff. Break time for us, my man.”

  Alfonso lead Donny through a labyrinth of hallways and doors that required the swiping of his badge to enter. Finally, they found themselves in a room with black and white tiled floors. One wall was lined with vending machines and a television perched near the ceiling in one corner.

  Donny plopped down into one of the orange plastic chairs and leaned his elbows on the table.

  “Why do you call him Corduroy?”

  “Name of the book he’s always carrying.”

  Alfonso fished a wad of bills from his pocket and fed one into a machine. With the beep of a few buttons, a bag of chips fell from the top row and thumped behind the little door at the bottom. Rather than bending over to get them, he slid another dollar into the machine and selected a candy bar, and then a bag of cheesy popcorn followed by a double salami snack stick.

  Donny looked away from the television and the bright yellow letters beneath the anchorman which boldly stated NOT EBOLA, CDC SAYS.

  “Hungry much?”

  Alfonso seemed to ignore the question as he slid yet another dollar into the machine. He punched the buttons and a packet of animal crackers started their descent. Just before gravity was about to take over, they got stuck on the metal coil and dangled precariously on the edge. “Ah, shit, man… come on!”

  Alfonso took the machine in both hands and shook it so hard that Donny could hear the candy bars rustle against one another. Still, it refused to give up its prize.

  Muscles bulged beneath the orderly’s short sleeves as he assaulted the hunk of metal and glass. It’s feet screeched against the tile floor with a series of sudden jolts, and then Alfonso was hammering the plexiglas with his fists, his lips curled back into a snarl.

  “Fucking money stealin’ piece of shit. Cock knockin’ son of a whore, I’ll fuckin’ cap your ass, you lousy fuckin’ bitch.”

  “Hey, man… chill. It’s a fucking bag of cookies, for Christ’s sake.”

  Alfonso spun around and Donny felt himself wither beneath his friend’s gaze. At that moment, the larger man’s eyes lacked any recognition. They raged with a cold fire of hatred towards the albino.

  As suddenly as the outburst had come on, it faded. Alfonso shook his head and wiped sweat from the back of his neck.

  “Yeah… yeah, you’re right. Shit… been hanging around these crazy mother-fuckers too much.”

  Someone on the television was speaking into a cluster of microphones that encircled him. The man’s tie was loosened and the top buttons of his wrinkled shirt were undone. His silver hair was mussed, as if he’d been running his fingers through it repeatedly. Dark circles fell like shadows beneath his bloodshot eyes.

  “We’re not sure.”

  An uproar of voices, so many questions that they canceled one another out until a female voice shouted over the din.

  “Mr. Anderson? Mr. Anderson, is it believed to be a biological weapon? Is this a case of terrorism, Mr. Anderson?”

  The man sighed deeply and exchanged glances with someone off camera.

  “We don’t know.”

  A woman in a powder blue dress suit stepped in front of the tired looking man. She was pretty in a conservative, professional kind of way and her tone was short and curt.

  “All we know for sure is that if you think you may be getting sick, you need to get to a FEMA station as quickly as possible. Teams from the CDC and WHO are working around the clock to ensure—”

  “Are we talking about Ebola?”

  “It’s not Ebola. We’re positive of that now. However, while we don’t know exactly what it is, we do know how to identify onset. There are seven symptoms to watch for…”

  AUDIBLE ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  All of my books to date have had an accompanying s
oundtrack. These are the songs which play in the background as I am writing, and lend themselves, in some way, to the story I am telling. When I’m away from the keyboard, they help keep my head in the world I’ve been creating. They provide inspiration and often motivation. For The 7 Habits of Highly Infective People, the soundtrack to writing was especially important. The songs helped create the tone I was going for with their dark and moody ambiance and they became very much like a real soundtrack to the little movie that was playing out in my mind. As such, I wanted to take a moment and thank the bands who created the aural tapestries that wove this particular reality. Other than the first song—which I came to think of as the opening theme for the book—and the last, they are presented here in no particular order.

  Timekiller – Project Pitchfork

  Madre, Protegenos – Ion

  Cold – Chiasm

  Dead Souls Dreaming – Diary of Dreams

  Lost in Time – Arcana

  Town E. – Love Is Colder Than Death

  Buried Philae – Rajna

  Une Nuit Ein Hiluern – Artesia

  16 Miles – Ego Likeness

  Here Comes The Rain Again – The Cruxshadows

  Elyria – Faith and the Muse

  Ein Enwachen – Illuminate

  Sacrifice –London After Midnight

  Precious New World – Project Pitchfork

  Ad Mortem Festinamus – QNTAL

  Cannibals – Diary of Dreams

  Rache – Unheilig

  Walk Away – The Cruxshadows

  Formula – Chiasm

  Sacrifice – Lacrimosa

  If You Enjoyed…

  If you enjoyed Lords of Night you may enjoy these books:

  14 by Peter Clines

  The Infection by Craig DiLouie

  Long Voyage Back by Luke Rhinehart

  The Flu by Jacqueline Druga