by Rosaria, A.
Sarah left him behind and went to Priss’s room.
First thing that hit her as she reached the door was the smell of sweat mixed with puke. A smell she remembered well from the last day at her high school, the day she lost all her classmates and friends. The memory mangled her stomach to hurting. Her hand floated an inch away from the door. She stayed like this a second, exhaled, and knocked.
“Daddy?” a small voice came from the room.
“It’s me… Sarah.”
“Sarah? Come inside.” Priss voice sounded much more cheerful this time. As Sarah entered the room and saw the girl in bed—face pale, red runny nose, and red spotted eyes—she wondered how much of that cheeriness was feigned for her benefit.
Sarah sat down on the bed next to Priss. “How are you holding up?”
“Much better.” Priss smiled a smile that couldn’t hide the truth. The girl was in bad shape and needed care.
“Has the doctor come by?”
Priss shook her head.
“A nurse?”
Again, she shook her head. No doctor or nurse. Sarah put her hand against Priss forehead. It felt clammy and hot. “Has anyone seen you today?”
“My father did this morning. He gave me aspirin.”
Aspirin would not cure this if it were the zombie flu. She needed the same medicine she saw Anton inject himself with. Not a permanent solution but much better than aspirin. And if this was a common flu she still needed better care than this.
“When was the last time you bathed?”
Priss blushed. “Two days. I just didn’t feel up to it. I’m sorry if I stink.”
Sarah squeezed her hand. “Don’t feel bad about that. I thought your father would help you.”
Priss kept silent. Sarah pulled the sheet away. “Come on.”
“What are you doing?”
“Getting you in your bath.”
“You shouldn’t.”
Priss had on stained pajamas that reeked of vomit and the fabric stuck to her body. Sarah helped the girl get out of bed and supported her as they walked to her bathroom. She helped her sit on the tub’s lip. Sarah turned on the faucet. Water streamed out, filling the tub with warm water.
“Get undressed.”
“Now?” Priss blushed. “In front of you?”
“Yes.”
Priss sighed and pulled her shirt over her head. She wasn’t wearing any underwear. Priss covered her perky but not too large breasts with her arms. If not for the red splotches all over her body, Priss looked like a healthy sixteen-year-old. Sarah helped her into the tub. Priss shuddered as she lay down and rested her head.
Sarah left her alone and went back into her bedroom. She picked up the clothes strewn on the floor and placed them in the laundry basket. Next, she changed the sheets. When done, the room looked much better. She opened the window to allow fresh air in and the stink out.
From the bathroom came a shrill cry. Sarah rushed in, thinking the girl slipped and was now drowning in her own tub; instead, she found Priss sprawled on the floor, mumbling incoherently. Priss looked up, dazed. Sarah quickly covered her with a towel and helped her to bed. Priss was burning. As Sarah covered her with a sheet, Priss started twisting and jabbering to herself.
“Daddy. No. Don’t send her away,” Priss said. “I don’t want her to die, Daddy.”
Sarah held her hand. “It will be all right. Don’t worry.”
“The captain and daddy are always whispering, stopping when they hear me come, but I heard.”
Priss clawed for Sarah and held her tight. “Don’t trust anyone.” Priss lay down. “Trust no one,” she said a last time and shut her eyes.
Sarah felt for a pulse and relaxed when she found one. Just sleeping. Priss needed food and medicine. No wonder she was talking about not trusting anyone if her own father didn’t take proper care of her. Sarah got up and looked down at the girl, sleeping as if nothing was wrong. From the open window, the sound of sirens and people screaming came in. If only nothing was wrong.
Sarah went to Mr. Ward’s study, hoping to exchange some words with him before she left. His study was open and he sat at his desk, staring at a gun in front of him. Sarah knocked. Startled, he looked up, quickly grabbed the gun, and put it in a drawer.
“What do you want, Sarah?”
“Why aren’t you caring for Priss?”
Mr. Ward sat back in his chair and folded his hands on his lap, twiddling his thumbs. He didn’t answer her.
“She was sleeping in her own vomit. When have you given her anything to eat or drink?”
“What is it to you?”
“She is my friend and I don’t want her to die.”
Mr. Ward leaned forward. “And you think I want her to die?”
“Why then aren’t you taking care of her?”
“She has the flu. No doctor or nurse wants to be close to her. She is dead already. Nothing I can do than make it quick and painless or hope for the best.”
“Starving her won’t be painless.”
Mr. Ward pulled the drawer open, took the gun out, and put it back on his desk. “It won’t come to that.”
Sarah staggered back. “You can’t. She is your daughter.”
“Because she is I must.”
Sarah shook her head. “I know you have a cure. Give it to her.”
Mr. Ward sighed and let go of the gun. “It’s not a cure, only a temporarily fix. Every month you have to inject yourself again, and if you miss one, you’ll turn. That’s no life for her.”
“Better than dying.”
“The price is too high.”
An injection once a month wasn’t that bad. Diabetics had daily injections. “But you have the medicine.”
Mr. Ward smiled wryly. “Had the medicine.” He looked out the window. She followed his gaze. Black uniformed soldiers were dispersing the mob. One protester got knocked down and six soldiers beat him with their batons until he stopped moving. Before they moved on, a soldier split the protestor’s head open. Sarah grew pale. The room was soundproofed. It was as if she were watching a silent horror flick. Mr. Ward pressed a button and the curtains slid shut.
“It won’t take long to clear the streets; you will be able to leave soon.”
Not allowing him to change the conversation away from Priss, Sarah said, “Why don’t you have the medicine anymore?”
“This morning, after Captain Morgan took his unit on a mission, the guards went on strike. They didn’t believe the official story about the disappearance of the two guards who attacked you.”
“What has that got to do with the medicine?”
“Who do you think guards the building with our medical supply?”
“They occupied the health department building?” Sarah looked at the closed curtains. “Can’t you send your soldiers to recapture it?”
Mr. Ward shook his head. “The guards broke into the armory and armed themselves and rigged the place with explosives. We go in and we’ll suffer a lot of casualties and the guards most likely will blow the place up out of spite.”
“We should do something about this.”
Mr. Ward sighed. “I called Captain Morgan to ask him to look for a new sample so we can extract a new batch.”
Sarah raised an eyebrow. “Sample? Batch?”
“You don’t need to know.”
“Tell me.”
“Captain Morgan radioed that he found someone to extract the component from. It needs to be someone who has had the flu and recovered. We first thought you were like that, but tests proved you not to be.”
Sarah shuddered, remembering the injections and, worse, the excruciating pain when they extracted fluids from her spine. She had an idea what they planned to do with whomever they caught. It would not be nice.
“Why not take better care of Priss if you expect a cure?”
He looked at her with heavy eyes. “There are no guarantees we’ll get anything and it takes time, and…”
Mr. Ward averted his eyes
and stood up. “I’ve said enough. The streets should be clear by now.”
“No!”
He looked surprised at her. “No?”
“You offered to let me to stay before. I’ll take you up on that.”
“I changed my mind.”
“I’ll take good care of Priss for you, until Terry gets you a cure.”
Mr. Ward smiled. “I’m glad Priscilla found a friend like you. Even if Captain Morgan brings a specimen today, it might be too late for her. It takes at least a day to prep everything for extraction and more if we want the specimen to survive. Priscilla maybe has two days but not more than that.”
Sarah understood that to save Priss someone else most likely had to die. Sarah clenched her teeth. That was a wrong thing to do. There must be another way. Mr. Ward put a hand on her shoulder. “Stay. Keep her company, and leave this thing to me. In the end, it will turn out all right. Maybe Priscilla will get better. I’m immune and resistances run in families with someone who is immune. Maybe she’ll be able to recover. Just keep her company and offer her what I can’t.”
On her way back to Priss’s room, Sarah decided she wouldn’t sit still and wait. One way or another, she’d get the medicine.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
Ralph stood over the soldier. The man lay flat. His mangled hands cradled to his chest, his torn knee bleeding profusely. Ralph kicked the soldier’s side, sending a shudder through the man. The soldier’s eyes fluttered open and he set his feverish eyes on Ralph.
Ralph prodded a boot against the soldier’s. “Where did you come from?”
“I need extraction.”
The soldier’s face paled. The blood surged from his knee. The pellets must have torn an artery. Ralph doubted the soldier had much longer to live.
“Where did your friends take Lauryn?”
The soldier shook his head. “I need… to go…”
“You need to tell me where you were taking her.”
The soldier moved his lips, but no words came out. Ralph groaned and kicked his side again. The soldier grunted. “Need to go…”
“Tell me where.”
“They have to get me out.”
The soldier shuddered, his face white, lips turning blue. “Map…rendezvous…got to go…”
This was going nowhere. Ralph drew his foot back, about to hit the soldier again, when he saw the soldier’s eyes go bland. Ralph pulled his gun, aimed, and shot. The soldier’s head bounced up with the impact and lay still.
Brenda and Derrick stood a distance away, watching. They were holding onto each other, while Derrick consoled Brenda as she sobbed against his shoulder. It had been too much. Zombies chasing them. Emma killed after all the trouble they went through to save her. Now Lauryn had been captured, and they had no idea where they took her.
Ralph went through the soldier’s belongings and found a pistol, ammo, a small sat/nav system, energy bars, a bowie knife, a first aid pack, a wallet, and a digital foldable map. Ralph opened the wallet, and took out a driver’s license. A photo of the smiling soldier looked back at him. Lyle Preston, age thirty. The soldier had kept his credit cards, even some money, and tucked between two cards was a picture of a good-looking brunette and a small child. Ralph tossed the wallet aside, picture and all. He opened the map. One spot was marked with EVAC.
Ralph turned on the sat/nav and punched the coordinates from the map in. Ten miles from his spot, a three-hour walk. He could be there way ahead of nightfall. Ralph stripped the soldier of his chest armor and put it on. He looked around and found the SMG the huge soldier had dropped near the boulder.
“Brenda.”
She looked up with red eyes, tears still streaking her cheeks. Ralph held up two energy bars. A trembling hand took them from him. “Eat one and give the other to Derrick.”
Brenda pushed the energy bar into Derrick’s hands. Absentmindedly, Derrick pulled the wrapper and started eating. Brenda did the same. Good, Ralph hoped that would get them going. They’d been awfully quiet for a long time now.
“I need you guys to return to base.”
“Wait,” Brenda said, “what about you?”
“I need to find out where they took Lauryn.”
Brenda shook her head and between sobs said, “She is gone. They took her.”
A year ago, Ralph had allowed them to convince him not to go after the soldiers when they took Sarah, but not this time. No nukes or soldiers or the most fortified stronghold would hold him back. Survival meant nothing if he kept losing those he loved.
“I’ll find out where they took her.”
“And then what? You’ll take them on alone?”
Ralph shook his head as a wry smile appeared on his lips. “No. You two are going to help me with this.”
Brenda raised her eyebrows.
“You and Derrick will return to base and tell them what happened, gather as many willing as you can, and prepare for battle. I will call you with the place and time.” Ralph pressed in her hands the satellite phone Phil had given them. The other one was in his backpack.
“A few of us against an army?”
“We’ll be in and out so fast that, and before they know what hit them, we will have freed Lauryn and showed them not to take us lightly ever again.”
“It’s crazy.”
“Crazy is sitting here waiting for them to do with us as they wish. They tore Phil’s group apart—men, women, and children. One day, they’ll try the same to our group, picking us off one by one.”
Brenda tensed. Her grip around Derrick tightened. Ralph saw in her eyes she understood. “It will be our deaths going against them,” she said.
“At least we’ll have a chance, then.”
Brenda sighed. “If we hide, we may—”
“Shut up!”
Brenda jumped at the fierceness in his voice. “You know I’m right. And if you don’t want to fight, so be it. I’ll go alone if I need to.”
Ralph slapped Brenda’s hand away as she tried to touch him. “Get your gear and move out. You have a good six hours before the sun goes down. If you walk on without stopping, you’ll reach base in a day.”
“But Ralph—”
“Just do it.” Ralph turned his back to them, and followed the direction the sat/nav blinking spot showed him the EVAC was. Whatever Brenda and Derrick decided to do once they were back at camp didn’t matter. He needed to get to Lauryn’s location while avoiding zombies. As long he was on high ground, he would not have to worry about running into one, unless someone died up here.
Brenda called after him. He heard her soft feet on the stony ground. “Ralph, don’t go like this.”
With a sigh, he turned to face her, tired of explaining, itching to go, to do something, anything to get rid of the feeling of despair brewing inside him. Brenda hugged him. Her arms tightening around him, pressing her wet face against his chest. Ralph stiffened and then embraced her.
“I’m sorry,” Brenda said. “I didn’t want to listen. I am scared.”
Everything had been falling apart since the dead refused to stay dead.
Brenda let go of him. “We’ll go back and get help. You’ll not be alone against them. I’ll be there for sure.”
Derrick stood sheepishly watching them. Ralph said to him, “Take good care of her. May luck be with you.”
He kissed Brenda’s cheek and whispered, “And you take good care of him. Don’t die on your way back.”
She nodded and gave him a peck on his lips.
Ralph smiled. “Go,” he said.
She ran back to Derrick, who was frowning at her, but before he could say anything, she grabbed his hand and pulled him away, going at a trot in the opposite direction Ralph was going.
Ralph was glad he wasn’t alone in this. He followed the path to the EVAC zone with renewed hope that maybe everything would turn out all right in the end.
CHAPTER TWENTY
A lanky soldier with blond hair and eyes that would chill the devil put a bag over Laur
yn’s head and pulled her inside the helicopter.
“Can’t have you snooping,” the tall soldier said.
He threw her on a hard metal bench. A shot of pain went through her when her hip hit metal. A huge body slammed against her, pinning her against someone else, sandwiched between two soldiers. They were taking her away. The thought broke her shock. Lauryn launched forward, fingers dug into each arm holding her back. She thrashed to get free. A fist hit her hard against her temple. Dazed, she shook her head and pushed forward again. The soldier holding her let go, and she was pivoted to the side and slammed into a wall. Hands grabbed her and pushed her back on the bench. A fist slammed her side, then another. A hand grabbed her hair and slammed her head against the wall. She slumped to the floor.
“Go, go, go,” she heard the tall blond soldier say.
The helicopter started lifting. The whop, whop of the rotors drowned all sound. As the helicopter went up, it suddenly shook as something hit it.
“Get him off,” the tall soldier yelled over the sound of the rotors.
Suddenly, the chopper veered to the left. “I hope the bastard breaks his neck.”
“Captain, he got Preston,” a deep voice from her left said. It was the huge soldier who captured her. The tall blond one was the captain, then.
“Preston is still moving,” a female voice came over the speakers. Lauryn guessed she was the pilot.
“He’s a goner, bleeding all over,” the captain said.
“Terry, come on. We need to get him back,” the pilot said over the speakers.
“I’m your captain, not your friend. Take me and the girl back to base. After that, you can fly to the extraction in case he is not as bad as he seems and manages to get away. You should go there anyway for your next mission.”
The pilot didn’t answer. The helicopter dipped a little and sped away. The trip didn’t take long. Wherever this base was, it wasn’t far from where she was taken, a half-hour flight. She guessed about forty miles. The helicopter landed. Terry pulled her up and pushed her out. No one stood on the other side to catch her, and she fell on concrete ground, grunting in pain. Soldiers’ boots hit the concrete next to her. With one hand under her armpit, he pulled her up and pushed her forward. “Walk,” Terry said.
