by Perrin Briar
She wasn’t sure she wanted to open this door. Someone would have to one day. They couldn’t very well live here knowing they were inside this room. She swallowed the lump in her throat and opened the door.
She was, unfortunately, right.
The two boys lay in their beds, tied up with sheets wrapped around their wrists. One had chewed through his own forearm in an effort to escape his bonds. To think these small boys had once looked like those on the portrait…
Dana could hardly believe it. They were Max’s age. They could have gone to the same school, been in the same classes if it wasn’t for their socio-economic differences.
Dana sat on the edge of the bed and took a moment to calm herself. She felt dizzy, her skin prickled with sweat. She wiped a hand across her forehead. It came away slick.
She wavered, losing her balance. She felt sick like she would hurl any moment. She leaned forward, resting her elbows on her knees. It alleviated some of the sickness she was feeling in the pit of her stomach. Her breath rasped in and out of her throat. One of the turned boys’ feet kept jabbing her in the small of the back, but she took no notice.
The curse of not feeling pain was she never really knew if she was ill or injured. She had twisted her foot and wouldn’t have known about it except for the fact she walked with a limp.
The sickness abated, retreating. She came back to herself. She got to her feet, checked her balance, then struck at the two boys on the bed.
They would haunt her dreams, she knew. But at least she could give them a quick sending off. Their bodies lay limp and unmoving. She shut the door on them and knew to her bones she could never open this door again.
She descended the stairs to find Poo Poo Head standing by himself, shifting his nervous feet from one foot to the other.
“Where’s Debbie?” Dana said.
Poo Poo Head pointed in the direction of the front room. Dana found the old hag comfortable in the armchair, watching TV. There were no programs on, no electricity either, but she watched it all the same.
Dana had never hated someone so much. Not only was she a selfish liar, she was also lazy and stupid. She had exposed Dana’s back to any dangers still active in the house and had done it knowingly. It was only thanks to Poo Poo Head that nothing had crept up on her.
Dana felt the blade in her hand. Her issue with the old lady could be over in a few short seconds. She took a step forward.
“Everything locked up in here?” Hugo said, entering and approaching them.
“Two kids upstairs,” Dana said, sliding the blade up her sleeve. “In their beds.”
Hugo nodded.
“What about downstairs?” he said.
“Downstairs?” Dana said.
She hadn’t even considered the idea this house might have a basement.
“All these big houses have basements,” Hugo said. He sighed. “To be rich and have all the money you could ever need.”
He daydreamed about the possibilities.
“Except now we can take it for ourselves,” Dana said. “It’s as much ours now as it was to those who earned it.”
Dana supposed they had earned it. They had survived this long. In today’s world that made them part of the elite.
“Come on,” Dana said. “Let’s search the basement. Then we can rest.”
The stairs into the basement were a more humble affair than the ones that wound up to the second floor. They were made of concrete, and were chipped and damp. The soft tunes of a music track drifted up.
They were walking down a corridor painted blood red. There were splatters on either side, invisible if it wasn’t for the way the blood had dried and stood out from the wall.
At the bottom of the stairs, the corridor continued a dozen more steps. There were two doors, one on either side.
“Cover me,” Dana said.
She pushed open the door and entered a large space. She could tell how large it was by the way her footsteps didn’t bounce back at her the way they had in the corridor. This floor was carpeted, with rows of seats, all facing a blank movie screen.
It was a mini-cinema. Just how rich were the people who lived here? Not rich enough to keep themselves and their family safe. Dana was not obsessed with celebrities. In many ways, she couldn’t stand them. But what she did like to learn was how they managed to accumulate their wealth.
She headed back to the door.
“We have our own cinema?” Hugo said. “I always wanted my own cinema!”
“An expensive sitting room without electricity,” Dana said.
“I’ll bet a place like this has its own generator,” Hugo said.
Dana pursed her lips. That would be good, she had to admit. They would look into it after clearing the final room. It was on the other side of the corridor.
Dana pushed the door open. This was where the music was coming from. It wasn’t loud. It was a recording studio. There were gold and platinum CDs on the walls, a leather sofa in one corner.
A man in a sharp suit stood at the mixing desk. He turned. Dana and Hugo recognized him immediately.
“Is that…?” Hugo said.
“Yes,” Dana said. “I think it is.”
He was not only a music producer but played a role in reality TV shows too. He wore a white shirt with spots of blood on it. It was unbuttoned to his navel, showing off his dark chest hair.
Stereotypes existed for a reason.
“Do you want to do it, or shall I?” Hugo said.
“You do it,” Dana said.
She was tired of killing people.
Hugo stepped up and disposed of the music producer.
“We need to bury these bodies, otherwise they’re going to draw a lot of flies,” he said. “Never mind other kinds of pests we might expect.”
Dana felt her strength leave her. She gripped the back of a leather chair, but she didn’t have the power to hold upright. She hit the floor.
“Dana?” Hugo said, rushing to her side. “Dana?”
Chapter Forty-Six
THE NEXT THING Dana knew, she was waking up in a comfortable bed. She was in the main bedroom, she thought, though she couldn’t accurately recall. It took a moment for the world to come into focus.
The room was tastefully decked out, in a way that made her feel a little sick to her stomach. How had they let themselves become so obsessed with something so unimportant as how a room looked?
“You’re awake?” Hugo said. “That’s a relief.”
He was sat on a chair beside her bed. He had a bowl of cold water on his lap and a rag in his hand. The bowl had tipped over to one side, at a slight angle, that allowed the water to drip out of the bowl and pool on the floor.
Hugo’s hair stuck up on end. He looked like he had fallen asleep.
“What time is it?” Dana said.
Her voice was groggy. She thought it had been dark when they had arrived at the house. Now, sunlight was shining through the windows and illuminated the gorgeous room.
“It’s six,” Hugo said.
“Man,” Dana said, pushing herself up onto her elbows. “I went out like a light.”
“You have no idea,” Hugo said. “It’s six in the evening, not the morning.”
Dana’s head snapped around to look at him. Was he being serious? It was possible. She had slept similarly when she had first been bitten. Why couldn’t it happen now too?
“I need to get up,” Dana said, throwing back the duvet.
“Wait,” Hugo said. “There’s something I need to tell you before you do anything.”
By the way, he was looking at her it was something he wasn’t relishing.
“What?” Dana said. “Don’t tell me those monsters managed to get in here already.”
“What?” Hugo said. “No. The walls are holding. Though there are other walls that aren’t holding so well.”
“Will you stop being cryptic and tell me what the deal is?” Dana said.
Hugo took a deep breath.
; “It’s your temperature,” he said finally. “It’s gone up.”
“My temperature has gone up?” Dana said. “So?”
“So, you’re getting closer to turning into a vegetable,” Hugo said.
Dana frowned. She had no idea what Hugo was talking about.
“Do you remember a few days ago, when we first got out of juvie, I checked both our temperatures?” Hugo said.
“Yeah,” Dana said, the effort it took to recall that scene somewhat difficult. “You said you were 101.6. I was 102.3.”
“Right,” Hugo said. “But now you’re not 102.3. You’re 102.7.”
He said it dramatically like it was meant to mean something to her. It didn’t.
“Is that significant?” Dana said.
“I’d say so, yes,” Hugo said. “It’s all the difference in the world. It means we really are Resistant like we thought. Only now, we can time it. We can know, assuming our temperature increases at the same rate, when we’ll turn into those monsters.”
“Wait,” Dana said. “Are you saying we’re going to turn into them?”
“I’m saying we might,” Hugo said. “We might be Resistant, which means we’ll still turn, it’ll just take a little longer than most people.”
“So, how long do I have?” Dana said.
“If it keeps going at this rate?” Hugo said. “About two weeks.”
Two weeks? Dana’s heart leaped into her throat. If she only had two weeks left to find Max and get her somewhere safe…
“Are you sure about this?” Dana said.
“As sure as I can be,” Hugo said. “With only two points of information, it’s difficult to make a prediction.”
“Then I could have less time than two weeks?” Dana said.
“Or more,” Hugo said. “I won’t know with any accuracy until the next time you suffer an attack like this.”
“That’s a huge weight off,” Dana said.
It meant she had to work a lot faster if she wanted to find Max. And how. Dana shook her head of the dark thoughts that threatened to plunge her into a sharp depression.
Hugo tucked a small notepad into his pocket. That was how he was keeping tabs on them and their ailment. Their countdown to death.
“How long do you have left?” Dana said.
“It’s hard to tell,” Hugo said. “We’re each changing at a different rate.”
“How long?” Dana said. “Longer than me, right?”
Hugo nodded. He didn’t seem all that happy about it.
“If I don’t manage to live long enough, will you…?” Dana said.
“We’ll find her,” Hugo said. “But for now, rest. Take the time to regroup, come up with a plan, and we’ll be out of here. We can return here when we find her.”
“At least we have the safe location part sorted,” Dana said. “Now we need to figure out where the hell she is.”
“Maybe we should think about forward planning,” Hugo said.
“Forward planning about what?” Dana said.
“About repopulating the Earth,” Hugo said.
Dan gave him a flat look.
“Not if you were the last guy on Earth,” Dana said.
“Let’s be honest, it’s getting that way,” Hugo said.
“You think I would give my body to you to… what? Repopulate the world?” Dana said.
“Somebody’s gotta do it,” Hugo said. “And with my brains and your body, there are worse outcomes.”
“If I’m dead in two weeks, what’s the good of that?” Dana said.
“Eggs,” Hugo said. “It’s not like we can get them just anywhere.”
Dana’s mouth dropped open in shock.
“I cannot believe I’m stuck here with you,” she said.
“Well, we’re both stuck here now,” Hugo said. “I’m going to make the most of it while I can. I’m going to take a shower. Or maybe a bath. Maybe both! I can’t believe I actually have a choice!”
Hugo left. Dana sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, getting her thoughts into order. Hugo had dumped a heavy load on her.
Dana had planned on spending a great deal of time with Max after she’d found her. She’d intended on watching her grow, bringing her up and watching her turn into the great woman she knew she would be. But now those dreams and that goal had been tossed in the garbage. Now, her goal was clearer than it had ever had been before.
Having a deadline like that—her mind couldn’t help but focus on the word dead—really focused the mind. Nothing had changed. She had expected to find Max as soon as possible, had sworn to find somewhere safe for her. None of that was new. Only the order had altered.
Dana swung her legs out of bed. The sheets were stained with her dirty clothes. She sat on the edge, like a cavewoman on the brink of civilization. She didn’t know what to do with herself. She went back to the chest of drawers and the walk-in wardrobe. She picked up whatever came to hand first. She checked the pants length against her legs.
Then she took a shower, taking care to lock the door and keep her weapons close. More than once she thought she heard something.
She opened the shower door and peered out, but nothing was there. Out the window, she made out the thick clutch of woodland and river on either side and the city in the distance.
Dana went downstairs and into the kitchen, where Hugo was busy cooking a meal with fresh meat and vegetables. It was the first real meal Dana had had since this whole thing had kicked off.
The food was piled up in the cabinets, fridge, and freezer. Even the milk was only a few days past its use by date.
It felt strange being in a house like this, able to rest and relax, while the rest of the world was turning to shit. Dana could imagine what was going down right at that moment. People fighting for their lives, others struggling to escape, and yes, some even being eaten alive.
“I thought we could call him Poe,” Hugo said.
“Huh?” Dana said.
If Hugo had been speaking, Dana hadn’t been listening.
“He seems to like it, and it’s easy to remember after Poo Poo Head, don’t you think?” Hugo said.
He was talking about a new name for Poo Poo Head.
“We can’t go on calling him Poo Poo Head,” Hugo said.
Dana shrugged. She didn’t care.
“Fine,” she said. “But I don’t think calling him a different name is going to make much difference. If you really want to help him, you should call him other names.”
She turned to Poe.
“Like idiot,” she said. “Moron. Dipshit.”
Poe didn’t understand what was going on. Perhaps he didn’t even know these words. But he recognized the tone Dana was speaking them with. He took a few steps back.
“Dana,” Hugo said. “Stop it. You’re upsetting him.”
“Maybe he should be upset,” Dana said, getting off her chair and approaching Poe. “I bet that’s why your parents left you behind, isn’t it? Because you’re dumb. I bet that’s why no one liked you in the hospital. Because you’re stupid.”
Poe started to scry. He put his hands over his ears and clutched great handfuls of hair in tiny fists. He shook, eyes wide and terrified. He let out a pained wail.
“If you want to survive with us, you can’t be weak anymore,” Dana said. “You have to be strong. Do you understand me? Man up, or you have no place here.”
“Leave him alone,” Hugo said. “He doesn’t understand.”
Poe looked from Dana to Hugo, both shouting, both upsetting to him. He turned and ran from the room.
“You can be a real bitch sometimes, you know that?” Hugo said.
The insult didn’t hurt. Dana had heard a lot worse, and from people a lot closer. But the fact it had come from Hugo did give her pause for thought.
“I’m going to check on him,” Hugo said.
“You have to stop mollycoddling him,” Dana said. “Otherwise he’ll always be like this.”
Hugo shook his head and left the roo
m. He took a couple of plates with him. The fact Hugo had left two plates—one for Dana and one for Debbie—showed how weak he was. Anyone with an ounce of self-respect would have taken it all with him as punishment.
Dana picked up the two plates and moved into the front room. Debbie was still watching a blank TV screen. No one had told her how to work the DVD player. She sat beside Debbie on an identical armchair.
Debbie reached out a hand to take one of the plates, but Dana pulled it away, keeping it for herself. Hugo could be weak if he wanted, but she wasn’t. Not on her time.
“If you’re hungry, you know where the kitchen is,” Dana said.
Debbie pursed her lips and returned to glaring at the TV screen. As Dana ate, she caught sight of the reflection in the TV’s glass monitor. A mirror image of her and Debbie.
Dana shivered.
Was that what Dana was becoming? An angry old hag with nothing meaningful in her life? Existing to exist? To irritate those around her?
The thought turned her stomach. She couldn’t finish her meal. Still, she refused to share it with Debbie. She would rather throw it away than share it with her.
Chapter Forty-Seven
THAT NIGHT, Dana had a dream about her sister Max. She was screaming and crying. Dana was in the university, but no matter where she looked, nor for how long, she could not find her missing sister. It was only after Dana had searched every nook and cranny that she realized the scream had been in her head the whole time.
Dana clutched her head in her hands. She couldn’t escape from the screams any more than she could get away from her own sense of failure. The dream ended with a piercing scream.
Dana awoke, darting up into a sitting position, almost falling off the swivel chair in the process. It was the middle of the night. The house’s security alarm was going off, wailing. She was at the security desk controls.
She had been watching the security cameras—operational now after Hugo had figured out how to power the generator. She was on duty and had fallen asleep.
She had assumed she wouldn’t as she had slept all through the previous night, morning and afternoon. The virus had had a bigger effect on her than she thought. She cursed herself and peered at the security camera monitors.
