But she couldn't shake the anger she felt.
You’re angry because Crystal is a flirtatious whore. You’ve always hated that about her.
It was Lara.
That was Lara’s voice but that wasn't Lara, she thought, she would never say something so mean about Crystal. She took a deep breath, spat it out, then plopped down in the grass. The smell of death was everywhere; the air was heavy with it. She felt like crying, but no more tears would come. Am I losing my mind? Is this what it feels like to go insane? She looked down at her hands. God, what is wrong with me? My nails look like bear claws. Something’s happening to me, to all of us. Moji closed her eyes and lifted her head to let the heat of the sun warm her face. Am I...are we...turning into monsters?
Ray’s voice snapped her out of her malaise. “Can I get some help over here?” he asked.
Moji opened her eyes and saw Crystal's head pop out of the manhole. “Ray, where are you?”
“I’m on the ladder. Can you come pull Crystal up? The manhole isn't big enough for both of us to get through at the same time.”
Moji walked over to the manhole rim and looked down. Crystal was squashed against the ladder with Ray behind her, his chest pressed into her back. The front of Crystal's blouse and skirt were covered with rust. The trip up had torn most of the buttons off of the blouse, exposing her bra and a good portion of her breasts.
“Grab her hands and pull her up,” Ray said, “I'll push her from my end.”
“Her blouse is open in the front.”
“I know. It couldn't be helped. I had to keep her pressed tight against the ladder to keep her from falling. The buttons kept getting snagged. We’ll get her another shirt later. Anyway, look at her. In her present state of mind I don't think she knows whether her blouse is open or not.”
When Moji reached down to grab Crystal's hands, Crystal looked up at her with a big Cheshire cat grin. Moji frowned. Oh, she knows damn well her blouse is open. She pulled Crystal out of the sewer and helped her walk several paces until she was steady on her feet. “Crystal, can you stand by yourself?” she asked, while simultaneously snatching the ends of her blouse together and tucking them into her waistband of her skirt.
Crystal angrily shoved Moji's hands away. “Where’s Ray?” she asked, her eyes scanning past Moji as if she weren't there.
“I'm right here,” Ray said, He had climbed out of the manhole and was replacing the cover. He walked over and stood next to Moji. “Glad to hear you talking in full sentences again, you had us worried. How are you feeling?”
Crystal smiled, pulled her blouse back open, then traced her index finger slowly down the cleave of her breasts. “I'll feel much better when you—”
Crystal suddenly doubled over and vomited a grayish, oily substance onto Ray's shoes.
“Oh God!” Moji said, backing away from Crystal, a look of disgust and horror etched on her face.
Crystal fell to the ground, moaning in pain. Ray lifted her blouse to look at her back. The skin around her wounds had begun to turn black and a reddish-green pus leaked from the spots where the creature’s claws had sliced particularly deep. He removed her blouse entirely and threw it to the ground. “Her wounds are infected. We need to clean them and get her some antibiotics.”
“Where are we gonna get antibiotics?”
“I know a place. Me and a guy that I used to work with named Terp used to park the cherry picker around the corner from here and walk to his apartment and get drunk.” He pointed to a large apartment complex about two blocks north of where they were. “See that block of buildings? That’s Kirby Terrace Apartments. He lives there. Terp will have everything we need.” He lifted Crystal into his arms and began to walk.
“How do we know your friend is there or willing to let us in? He may not have room for us.”
Ray was already winded from carrying Crystal. He struggled to get the words out. “Moji...Terp won’t care...he’s not home...because he’s dead.”
Moji cringed when she heard the word dead. “How do you know he’s dead?”
“I...I saw him die.” He stopped to catch his breath. He could see the main entrance to the complex. It looked deserted. “I’ll be happy to answer all your questions later. Right now I think we need to focus on getting to shelter and getting Crystal patched up.”
“Ok,” Moji said, “but couldn’t we go into one of these buildings?” She pointed at the numerous small businesses sprinkled on both sides of the street. “They all look empty.”
Ray started walking again. “Those are all storefronts. No place to lie down. Terp’s got two bedrooms and, like I said before, he’s got stuff, like food and medicine.”
They walked for several more minutes until they reached the building’s semi-circular driveway. Ray stopped to rest again while Moji continued up the entrance and peeked inside, through two glass doors with polished steel trim. Within the extravagantly decorated lobby she spied a large framed site plan affixed to the wall. It revealed that Kirby Terrace was a six story apartment complex with a hollowed out interior that housed an atrium, pool, and other amenities.
“I don’t see anyone,” Moji said. She tried one of the doors. It opened with a soft swish from the hydraulic hinge at the top of the door. She stepped away from the opening and held the door open so Ray could enter with Crystal.
“That’s good,” Ray grunted as he maneuvered Crystal's limp body through the door, “we don’t need any more unwelcome company.”
The lobby was decorated like a well-appointed hotel, with couches, end tables, and chairs centered around a large concierge desk. Moji noted that, unlike her building, none of the windows in the lobby were broken. “Wonder why this place doesn’t have any damage from the explosion?” she said.
“The surrounding buildings probably acted like a shield,” Ray said, “I doubt this place sustained much damage at all.” He lay Crystal down on the floor.
“Then why did the residents leave?”
“We don’t know that they did. They could be in their apartments waiting for relief to arrive or the scourge virus could have turned them all into fucking zombies like we saw in the park.”
“No one’s here, I can feel it.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. It's like the soul has been sucked out of this place.”
“Well, the sooner we get out of sight, the better I'll feel. Terp lived on the fourth floor, in apartment 412. The power's still out so we gotta take the stairs. The stairwell is behind the elevator bank. You go first and keep an eye out, in case a few lingering souls decided to hang around.” Ray scooped up Crystal and followed Moji through the murky light of the lobby and into the complete blackness of the stairwell. Moji began to ascend the stairs, quickly disappearing into the dark. Ray could hear Moji’s footsteps above him. “Moji,” he said in a strained whisper, “be careful! I can't protect you if you get too far ahead of me.”
“I told you, we’re alone in this building, so there's nothing to worry about. Besides, how are you going to protect me while you're carrying Crystal?” A part of Moji regretted posing that question to Ray. She knew it was selfish and petty.
Crystal’s the one being selfish and petty! she heard Lara-with-the-deeper-voice say, Sherelishes in your weakness, in your inability to make a man, any man, happy. As long as she’s alive, she will always steal your happiness.
Ray didn't answer, Moji didn't really expect him to. His labored breathing and shuffling footsteps told her his attention was focused on navigating the next flight of stairs.
But that’s not why he doesn't answer your question, Lara informed her, he doesn't answer your question because he doesn't care about what happens to you.
Moji wiped an angry tear from her eye, then grabbed the iron handrail and continued up the stairs until she reached the fourth floor landing. The stairwell door was already open. A trickle of light leaked into the stairwell from the hallway. A stack of books was jammed against the door to prevent it from swinging shut. She
stepped through the door and into the elevator lobby. The lobby corridor bisected two hallways that ran the length of the building. A sign on the wall said that units 400 to 416 were located in the hallway to her left. The doors to a few of the apartments were open, allowing pockets of sunlight to spill into the hallway. Clothes, broken furniture, and other unidentifiable trash littered the floor.
“Oh...Oh shit she's heavy,” Ray said, appearing in the doorway behind her, breathing hard with sweat pouring off his brow. “Come on, his apartment is down this way.”
Moji followed as Ray weaved his way down the hall, only slowing to peer carefully into the interior of the apartments with open doors, to, as he put it, “check for unwanted guests.” They finally reached Terp’s apartment.
Moji tried turning the door handle. “It's locked. How are we supposed to get in?”
Ray cleared a space on the floor with his feet then lay Crystal down on the herringbone carpet. Even in the dimly lit hallway, the gashes on Crystal’s back were prominent. Moji had seen injuries like that before, in the pages of a coffee table book she once owned that detailed the history of African-Americans during slavery. It had hundreds of pictures, many of them of slaves who had survived vicious beatings by their oppressors. The slaves had scars like that, she thought.
Ray pulled the tire iron from his waistband and wedged it between the door and the doorjamb. “Stand back,” he said.
Moji did as she was told then Ray pried the door away from the doorjamb. There was a loud crack as the door’s deadbolt tore through the wooden frame, splintering it length-wise. The door swung inward, traveling about two thirds of the way through its arc, before scraping to an abrupt stop against a rectangular patch of uneven tile floor.
“We're in,” Ray said with a satisfied shrug.
“But now we can't close the door,” Moji said, pointing to the ruined doorjamb as Ray squatted to pick up Crystal.
“Don’t worry about it,” Ray said, as he cradled Crystal in his arms, “I'll rig up something...ok gotta go before I drop her...my arms are spent.” He swept past Moji and hurried into the apartment, immediately turning left once he crossed the threshold. Moji followed him in and found herself in the main living area of a sparsely furnished bachelor pad with drab tan carpeting and bare white walls. There was a flat screen television mounted on the wall to her right, a ratty looking couch against the wall on her left, and facing her, a big picture window shuttered by an old venetian blind. Ray rushed down a short hallway and into a small bedroom dominated by a queen-size bed. He dumped Crystal on the bed, then stepped back and let out a quick breath. “Whew! I didn't think I was gonna make it! My arms feel like noodles.”
Moji took his left hand in her right then gently stroked his arm with her left hand. “It doesn't look as though your arm is getting any worse.”
“I remember you saying that it would get better,” Ray said, “I don't know how you knew that, but I guess you were right.”
“Yeah,” Moji said, “I guess I was.” She hadn't taken her eyes off of Ray's arm. She let her long nails travel lightly along the skin of his forearm, from his wrist to his elbow. “Do you feel that?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he whispered, “yeah I do.” He brought his free hand under Moji’s chin and tilted her head up so her gaze would meet his. “I...I feel—”
Crystal groaned in pain.
Ray dropped his hands to his sides and shook his head in confusion. “We...we’d better take care of Crystal. I think she's got a really bad infection.”
“Ok,” Moji said, sounding a little disappointed, “what do we do?”
“You look in the closet for some blankets. I'm gonna go into the other bedroom and get the first aid kit.”
“Your friend keeps a first aid kit in his bedroom?”
“Shit yeah,” Ray said as he turned to leave, “and a whole lot of other shit too. Be right back.”
As Ray left the room, Moji turned to the wall opposite the foot of the bed and opened the bi-fold doors to a shallow closet. There were no clothes in the closet, though the warped wooden rod that spanned its length divulged a history of heavy use. Two pillows and a folded comforter sat on a shelf mounted above the closet rod.
Kill your rival before she wakes! she suddenly heard Lara say, speaking in that lower than normal voice. The command was so clear that Moji turned her head, afraid that someone had snuck up behind her. Lara, I don't know what's going on with you, but we are not going to hurt Crystal! She's our friend!Her mind was quiet. Moji took a deep breath and then retrieved a pillow and the comforter from the shelf. When she turned and saw Crystal lying helpless on the bed, her hands reflexively gripped the ends of the pillow. Then a thought filtered through her subconscious, one so sick and twisted that Moji felt nausea churn in her belly. She raised the pillow and walked to the head of the bed.
“Let me do my thing before you put that pillow under her head,” Ray said as he walked into the room. He was carrying a large red plastic box, about the size of a small suitcase.
“Huh?” Moji said, “What did you say?”
“I said let me dress her wounds and get some drugs in her before you get her all comfy.”
Moji lowered the pillow and stepped away from the bed. “Yeah sure, go ahead.”
“Mo, you alright? You look a little lost.”
“I'm just tired, hungry, and dirty. I want this whole ordeal to be over with.”
“You and me both. Let me get Crystal fixed up and then I'll see if I can scrounge us up some food and dry clothes.”
Ray put the box on the end table next to the bed and opened it. It unfolded into three stacked drawers, each filled with a variety of medications, bandages, and medical implements. He removed two vials of clear liquid, another filled with a white powder, and four hypodermic needles, each encased in shrink wrap.
“What are you doing with that stuff? I thought you were just going to clean and bandage her wounds?”
“I am, but first I'm going sedate her with this.” Ray shook one of the clear vials of liquid. “This is ketamine. It will knock her out for about eight hours. This other clear liquid is just saline solution. I'm gonna mix it with the white powder in this vial, which is called ertapenem. It's a powerful antibiotic. I'm hoping a few doses of this will knock out whatever bug those creatures gave her.”
Moji stared at her nails. “Maybe we should take some antibiotics too.”
“I thought of that. There's enough here for all of us.”
Moji watched in silence as Ray prepared the syringes. First, he cleaned a patch of skin on Crystal's arm, injected her with the sedative, and followed that up with a dose of the antibiotic.
“That should knock her out,” he said, “and allow me to clean her up without having to worry about her jumping around. A couple of those gashes look like they may need a stitch or two.” He held out his hand. “Now it's your turn. Let me see your arm.” Moji held out her arm and Ray cupped his hand under her elbow. “I promise I’ll be gentle,” he said, smiling.
“How do you know about this medical stuff?” Moji asked while trying to appear calm. She didn't like needles.
Ray pushed the sleeve of her t-shirt up past her shoulder and gently wiped a spot on her arm with an alcohol swab. “I was a medic in the army.” As he said this, he quickly dropped the swab, picked up the hypodermic, and thrust it into her muscle.
Moji hissed. “Hey! I thought you said you would be gentle! That hurt!”
“I saw how you stared at the needle. I’ve seen that scary look before. I thought it would be best if I got it over with quickly, before you had a chance to pull away.”
Moji snatched her arm away and rubbed the spot where she was injected. “You could have given me a little warning,” she said, more ashamed than angry that her childhood fear of needles was so transparent.
“I'm sorry. I'll try not to surprise you again.”
The alarmed look on Ray's face immediately made Moji feel guilty about snapping at him. “It's o
k, it's not your fault. I’ve been afraid of needles since I was a little girl.”
Ray relaxed and sat down on the bed. He opened another alcohol swab and rubbed it on his left shoulder, on an area that hadn't yet been discolored by the progress of the infection. “It's nothing to be ashamed of,” he said, “a lot of kids develop a fear of hypodermic needles. Getting vaccinations, having to get a shot of Novocain at the dentist, or any of the hundreds of things kids have to get shots for, can turn into a phobia if the kid has a bad experience. I remember having to get my blood drawn as a kid. The stupid nurse couldn't find my vein and kept sticking me over and over again. They finally had to send for somebody who knew what the fuck they were doing. By that time, my father had to hold me down because I thought those bastards were trying to kill me. For two years after that incident, I practically peed my pants anytime I had to go to the doctor.”
Moji scrunched her nose and turned her head slightly as Ray injected himself with the remaining antibiotic. “You obviously got over it since you don't have a problem sticking yourself.”
“Yeah,” Ray said as he threw the empty syringe back into the box, “I’ve dealt with a whole lot worse since then. Come to think of it, I would gladly sit on a fucking case of hypodermic needles if it meant I didn't have to go through some of the shit I went through. You know what I mean?”
Moji felt her eyes get glassy. She hoped it was getting too dark in the room for Ray to notice. “Yeah,” she said, “I think I do.”
“Don’t take this the wrong way,” Ray said, with a sense of knowing, “because I don’t mean this in a bad way, but you look like someone who's been through some shit. Am I right?”
Moji's lips parted to speak, then closed. Ray didn’t wait for an answer. He flashed a shy smile then turned Crystal over onto her stomach then undid her bra. Then he began to rummage through the first aid kit, inspecting, then removing various items and placing them on the bed. Moji crossed her arms over her chest and leaned against the open bedroom door.
The Scourge Page 42
