The Infected

by Gemma Ritchie

  “Are you sure you’re okay?” Drew asks for the tenth time in an hour. Grinding my teeth, I walk faster, desperate to get away from the sympathy in his eyes. No matter how many times they tell me I was only protecting myself I can’t shake the image of those eyes, wide with shock and pain as my knife sank into his chest. Whether it was self-defence or not doesn’t change that fact that I’ve killed someone. Again. The rest of them find it so easy but I’m not like them. For me, killing is not easy and it’s certainly not something I can just get over.

  “Louisa” Sam calls, jogging to catch up as we tromp through fields of tall grass. I don’t slow down, my back hot and sweaty beneath my jacket. “Louisa, hang on.”

  I spin around. “What?”

  He skids to a halt, brow raised at my tone. Folding my arms across my chest, I clench my jaw, waiting for yet another inspiring pep talk from Captain Happy. The others throw me sidelong glances I refuse to meet, keeping my glare firmly pinned on Sam. He waves them on until we’re standing alone, anger rolling off me in waves.

  “It’s not their fault. Stop being such a damn martyr and get over it. If you hadn’t have done what you did he would have killed you. End of story. No matter what your view is, this is how the world is now and the sooner you get used to it the happier you’ll be.” His face is red, pent up rage shaking his chest.

  “What, like you?” I snap.

  “You don’t know anything about me.” He’s moved closer, looming down at me in a manner I would normally find intimidating. Not right now though. Right now, I’m pissed.

  “I know you’re a hostile, cold hearted jackass” I close the distance, glaring up into his face. “I don’t know what happened to make you this way but if being okay with killing someone, no matter what they’ve done, turns me into you, then I want no part of it.”

  Rage rolls between us, clogging the air, the tension so thick you could spread it on a cracker. This world has changed me. The Louisa of two years ago would have backed down, apologised and retreated into herself until she thought she might explode. But the girl I am now, the one standing in a field in the middle of nowhere with blood on her hands, this girl has had enough of being pushed around.

  “Do what you want. Just stop taking it out on them.” Sam steps around me and storms back to the others. Hands on hips I suck in lungfuls of air as I try to calm my racing heart, unspent adrenaline making my head light. A hand rests against my shoulder.

  “Lou…” I shrug the hand away.

  “Just…leave it Drew.” I turn away to follow the others. Natalie glances back at me, trying to catch my eye. I avoid it, unable to meet any of their gazes as the shame sweeps in right on cue. Drew falls into step beside me but doesn’t speak, though I can feel his weighted gaze burning against my cheek. Sadness pricks at my eyes, a barrage of emotions beating against the back of my skull and tightening my jaw until it’s painful.

  As night draws in we make camp, exhaustion impeding any conversation. I huddle under my jacket, watching the flames of the campfire because I can’t look at the faces of my companions. I feel their gazes sweeping over me, wanting to reach out but fearing rebuff they keep to themselves, quiet conversation never quite reaching me. My self-imposed isolation gnaws at my chest and darkens my already black mood. When the others climb inside their tents I stay put. Sam glances at me from his watch post but doesn’t speak, shaking his head as he stares out into the night.

  A tear trickles down my cheek, salting my lips. I hide my sniffle beneath a cough, not wanting him to notice. This isn’t a cry for help. This is despair and I feel it weighing so heavily on my chest it’s suffocating. I wasn’t built for this life. Death and decay are everywhere I turn and I can feel my mind fragmenting more and more with each day that passes. A raindrop splatters against my sleeve, followed by another and another until the sky is weeping. My tears mingle with the rain, coming thick and fast, my fragile soul splintering until it is dust at my feet.

  “Louisa.” Sam stands over me. I blink against the lashing rain, my sodden hair sticking to my cheeks. There’s no pity in his gaze, no kind words on his lips. He pulls me to my feet so we’re inches apart and my heart races in my chest.

  “I can’t do this” I whisper, barely audible beneath the pounding of the rain.

  “You don’t have a choice.”

  ….

  I climb out of the tent into a rain logged field. Drew looks up and offers me a hesitant smile. I return it, swallowing what little pride I have left as I squelch through mud to where he sits.

  “Good morning” he wraps an arm around my shoulders and this time I don’t shrug it off. I fold into his chest, resting my head against his shoulder and feel myself heal. Not a lot but enough. His lips press against my hair and his arm tightens in a brief squeeze. Lifting my head, I look into his eyes and see nothing but forgiveness.

  “I’m sorry” I whisper, regret lacing my words.

  He shakes his head. “You don’t have to be sorry. Killing isn’t supposed to be easy. I’d be worried if you didn’t feel this way.” His expression grows serious. “But you have to promise to talk to me. We’re a team you and me. You’re not alone in this.”

  I pull him into a hug, pouring all the love I possess into it, saying without words how much he means to me. How grateful I am to have met him. He returns it with the same conviction, warm arms squeezing until I can barely breathe. When I pull back he’s beaming, once more the happy, loving man that I know.

  “Breakfast?” he holds up a tin of steaming mush that looks anything but appetising. “Natalie has been teaching me to cook. So far, I’d say I’m doing quite badly.” I laugh, taking the tongs from his hand and stirring the congealed mixture. Scooping out a spoonful I tip it back into the tin, huge lumps splattering the concoction against the metal sides.

  “It’s a shame we don’t have a dog.” I wrinkle my nose. Chuckling he shoves my arm, taking the tongs back with renewed determination as he stirs his lumpy creation. I stand, eyes scanning for a private place to pee as Sam climbs from his tent, eyes resting on my face which colours under his gaze. My mental breakdown of the night before bursts to the forefront of my mind, casting my eyes downwards as I excuse myself.

  Shivering against the morning chill I relieve myself quickly. As I button up my jeans, shouting draws my attention. I straighten my t-shirt and venture further into the trees, following the noise until the voices become recognisable. My stomach drops when I push through the undergrowth.

  “Kyle get down. You’re going to fall.” Natalie is frantic, pacing like a mother bear beneath a precariously balanced Kyle. His arm is outstretched, feet rocking against a branch as he reaches, brows furrowed. The branch gives, dipping and throwing him off balance. I leap forwards, breath catching in my chest.

  Steadying himself he blows through his lips and leans once more, face strained. Splintering rips through the air and then he’s falling, arms flailing, eyes wide with shock. It seems to take an age for him to fall, leg snagging against a broken branch before his back slams into the ground.

  I dart forward, sliding to my knees beside him as he groans. Natalie is crying, hands hovering over him as she looks for wounds through hysterical eyes. My gaze lands on a tear in his pants, blood blossoming against the fabric. The colour drains from my face and I swallow, shuffling down until I’m able to tear at the fabric to reveal a deep gash oozing with blood.

  “Shit” I whisper, turning to Natalie, her face drenched with tears. “We need to get him back to camp. I need to clean the wound.” She doesn’t even acknowledge that I’ve spoken. “Natalie.” I snap. Her eyes turn to me, her mouth ajar in frozen shock. “Help me get him up.”

  Between us we lift him from the floor, his tall gangly frame awkward and dwarfing our petite frames. Sam and Drew look up, leaping to their feet as we stumble into the field. I relieve my position to Drew, sprinting to camp and dropping beside my pack.

  “What the hell happened?” Sam barks. Natalie is crying too hard to res
pond, babbling incoherently between sobs. With first aid kit in hand I turn, pulling a sleeping bag beside the dying fire. Sam and Drew lay Kyle down. His face is pale but he’s lucid, the shock worse than the injury. In normal circumstances, a gash like that wouldn’t be dangerous, barely a scratch in the modern world. But in this world, it was life or death and now all eyes are on me to help him.

  “I need you to boil some water” I throw an unopened water bottle to Drew. “Sam, I need you elevate his leg. Keep it above his heart. We need to stop the bleeding.” Sam drops beside his brother, eyes awash with concern, lifting his leg high in the air. Grabbing a clean shirt from my pack I press it to the wound. Kyle yelps, teeth grinding as I apply pressure.

  Drew sets the tin of boiling water beside me. I meet his gaze, my face much calmer than I feel. Inside I’m screaming like a banshee. After the longest ten minutes of my life I pull the shirt away to see if the bleeding has stopped.

  “Kyle, I need to wash the wound.” I keep my tone even. His fearful gaze lifts to mine and he nods, steeling himself. Taking the boiled water, I wash out the wound, rinsing flecks of dirt down his thigh as he grits his teeth. Once I’m satisfied its clean I lean closer, gaping torn flesh staring back. I pack it with gauze, winding bandage around and around his thigh, trying to still the shaking in my hands. The risk of infection is high but I don’t voice my concerns. For the time being I have to hope that this is enough. The alternative doesn’t bear thinking about.

  I climb to my feet and turn away, washing my hands with the last of the water and preparing myself for the inevitable questions. My speciality may be animals but at the end of the world I’m as good as a brain surgeon.

  “Thank you.” I glance at Sam, nod my head with a half-hearted smile. “What happens now?”

  I clear my throat. “I’ll need to re-dress the wound every twelve hours, check it for infection. Hopefully we were quick enough that that won’t be an issue.” It hangs in the air between us. That there’s a chance we didn’t clean it in time, or thoroughly enough, or the bacteria was already too deep for me to stop. Only time will tell. “Most importantly we need to get him somewhere safe and dry.”

  We allow Kyle a few more hours of rest as we pack up camp. He protests, wanting to help, insisting that he feels fine. I gently push him back down whenever he tries to sit up, fixing him with a stare even he daren’t argue with. Sam backs me up, ordering Kyle to listen to me. That I know best. That’s debatable but I’m happier when he’s not trying to move, even if his expression is sullen.

  Our progress is slow when we start walking again, Kyle hobbling on a makeshift crutch constructed from a fallen branch. Nobody talks. Fear and concern stunts any attempts at conversation, each of us taking turns to walk beside him. Our babying is getting on his nerves. It’s in the curve of his brow and the darkening of his eyes and I know he is waiting for the scolding Sam will give him. The questions of why he was up in that tree to begin with. Natalie is still inconsolable, guilt warring inside her, making her withdrawn.

  We pass lonely businesses but thankfully nobody, infected or otherwise, hinders our movements. A thrill of excitement rushes through me when my gaze lands on a building in the distance.

  “Guys. Look.” I point ahead. Sam and Drew exchange a glance and run on ahead to check it out. I fall back beside Kyle. His face is pale and exhausted, dark bruises beneath his eyes as he limps, arm shaking against his prop.

  “Almost there Ky.” I give him an encouraging smile that he can’t quite return, eyes pinched in pain. Natalie looks over her shoulder, eyes dropping when I meet her gaze. Once I’ve checked on Kyle, she and I are going to have a conversation. She can’t blame herself forever.

  Sam jogs back, giving us the all clear. As we approach I see that the building is in fact a farm. A large stone building with a thatched roof and an old wooden barn, neglected after years of abandonment, standing awkwardly off to the side. Between Drew and Sam, they get Kyle inside, leading him to an old worn checked couch. A pained breath blows from his lips when he drops into the cushions, eyes screwed tight and causing my stomach to drop.

  Perching on the edge of the coffee table I set about removing the bandages. The skin around it is scarlet, pus leaking down his leg the second I remove the gauze. My face falls, eyes snapping to Kyle’s face and the greying hue of his skin, the sweat beading across his hairline. Drew hands me more boiled water and I force an encouraging smile as I wash out the wound once more and rewrap it, all the while my mind racing.

  Patting his knee, I stand and move calmly to Sam, tapping his shoulder as I gesture for him to follow me into the large country kitchen. Once we’re out of earshot I let the smile fall away, feel my throat constrict in protest of what I’m about to say.

  “The wound is infected.”

  Sam pales, hands tearing through his hair as he paces away from me. I wait silently. When he returns, his jaw is set, eyes narrowed. “What does he need?”

  “Antibiotics and he needs them now. If left untreated…” my voice trails away, the words not needed. We both know what will happen if the infection spreads. Sam rests his palms on the kitchen island, shoulders bunching beneath his jacket. Moving to his side my hand hovers by his back, not quite touching. “There was an animal refuge a few miles back. There’s a chance that it’ll have what we need.”

  The anguish in his green eyes breaks my heart.

  “If I leave now I can get there and back before nightfall.”

  “I’ll go. You need to stay with Kyle.” He turns to walk away and I grab his arm, noting the way he flinches and let my hand fall.

  “You don’t know what you’re looking for. I do. We don’t have time to argue about this. Every second we waste the infection is spreading.” I hold his gaze. His chest swells with indecision. “Sam, I’m not debating this.”

  Striding back into the living room I grab a rifle, slinging the strap over my head and turn to Drew. “The wound is infected and he needs medicine. I’m going to go get it.” He opens his mouth to protest and I fix him with same glare I gave Sam. Drew’s eyes flick behind me. “This isn’t up for discussion.”

  “I’m coming with you.” Drew stands, grabbing his own rifle. Natalie watches us with wide eyes, fear washing the colour from her face. I shake my head.

  “You need to stay with Kyle and Natalie.” I fill my words with meaning, eyes widening. Chewing the inside of his lip he exhales, glancing at the sickly shade of Kyle’s skin and the way his lids droop with exhaustion. Cursing, Drew drops back to the couch, head hanging and irritation clenching his fists.

  I turn to Sam. “Let’s go.”

  A million different scenarios run through my mind as I walk, each step filled with purpose. Sam is quiet and I know he is thinking the worst. Preparing himself for the loss. The grief that will follow if we fail. We won’t fail. I won’t even allow my mind to contemplate the notion of failure. I won’t lose anybody else. This world will not take anything else from me. It has taken enough.

  After fifteen minutes Sam falls into step beside me, swallowing so loud I hear the gulp. I want to give him words of encouragement but I can’t seem to get them out. They dissolve on my tongue with each attempt. My resolve to save Kyle is strong but even the slightest of hopes could be pulled away from us.

  “What are we looking for when we get there?” Sam asks, his voice shaking. I’ve never seen him so vulnerable. It makes my chest ache.

  “It’s a drug called Amoxycare. It’s used to treat infection in animals but it can also be used by humans. In third world countries, veterinary antibiotics were used all the time to treat infections in humans as they were more readily available.” My years spent in education, it would seem, were not wasted as I recite my old text books word for word. My teachers would have been proud.

  “Won’t they be out of date?”

  I nod. “In tablet form they won’t be harmful, though they will be less potent, but as long as I get the dosage right he should be okay.” I hold his gaze. “Pl
ease Sam, you have to trust me.”

  He hesitates, searching my face. Whatever he sees there obviously satisfies and he nods. For now, it seems, I have his confidence. I just hope I deserve it.

  That I’m not wrong.

  Ten

  - Who You Are -

  Blood spatters the reception, coating every wall and surface. My stomach tangles itself in nervous knots as I follow Sam inside, rifle gripped between shaking hands. The sound of my own breathing fills my ears, rapid and fearful, not unnoticed by Sam as he crunches over broken glass. The refuge is deathly quiet, void of the typical barking of dogs, mewing of cats, squawking of birds. It feels wrong. Unnatural.

  With a wave of his hand Sam gestures me to follow as he turns down a dark corridor. I scan the shadows, anticipation of an attack prickling at the back of my neck. A wet squelch accompanies my footsteps. I shudder, knowing what I’ve stepped in without looking, my entire body cringing inwards.

  Pushing open a door to the right we step into a consultation room. Its dark inside but no so dark that I don’t see the body slumped in the corner, throat torn and crusted with dried blood.

  “Oh my god” I whisper, turning away before I puke. My greatest fear of what we’d find here comes to fruition. An injury like that was not at the hands of a human. Even a crazed one. Only one thing could have inflicted that type of wound. “We need to hurry.”

  Before whatever did that realises we’re here.

  Moving from room to room my heart pounds, every scuff of our boots and the creak of a door sending my mind into overdrive. I push open another door and a cacophony of noise punctures the silence. Cages rattle, snapping and snarling, barks that echo off the walls and wash down the corridor at my back. Any profanities I utter are swallowed by the commotion.

  I lead the way, hurrying past cage after cage of dogs that throw themselves against the bars of their enclosures, snapping their jaws as spittle sprays my arms. Grief closes my throat at the thought of these animals, locked up and starving, their minds warped by a virus that tells them to attack. To kill. I avert my eyes from the many corpses that litter the pens, their bodies stripped by the stronger animals around them. Several cages hang open, doors sagging from the hinges and confirming my fears. Not all the animals are contained and a combination of rage and hunger makes us the perfect prey.