"No," she said. "I'm just being a baby. You're hurt. I can do it."
We left Brian and Jen with the shotgun and one pistol along with the two extra clips. I took the M4 and Sara got the other pistol. Sara and I took the night vision. There was no way to know how long we'd be gone. We could find something at the house next door, or we might have to drive around and search houses until morning.
I let Sara drive.
"We'll go house to house," I said. "You can stay with the bus. I'll go in and do the searches. Drive with the lights off and use the goggles."
The world was green. I thought maybe it would be better like this. Maybe the things would show up better. We pulled into the driveway of the first house, and I got out with an empty rucksack. The door was locked, but there was a window right next to it. I broke the glass and reached in and turned the deadbolt. I didn't find any alcohol, but I got some canned goods, crackers and a 2 liter of Sprite.
At the next house, the door was standing wide open, and I surprised a family of raccoons who were in the kitchen enjoying the box of Cheerios they'd knocked off the top of the refrigerator. They scrambled away, but soon came back and didn't seem to mind me being there. No alcohol there either.
We were out for more than two hours. I had to use the rifle three times. Finally, I broke into a house that had a box of Zinfandel in the refrigerator. The box was open, but still mostly full. I took it out to the bus. Sara had the radio on listening to static.
"Got some," I said. "We can head back now."
She yawned and nodded then put the bus in reverse.
"I'm tempted to drive us into town," she said, "find a house there, and use the shower to get this gunk off me.”
"It would be a very cold shower," I said.
"I don't care," she said. "I'm tired of smelling it. I don't know if I'll ever get the smell off."
"We'll go back, have some wine, get some sleep, and go out first thing. We'll find a place where we can all get a hot bath."
"Really?" she said.
"Well...a warm bath…..Warm-ish.”
When we got back to the house a few minutes later we found Jen and Brian sleeping in the floor in front of the heater.
"Should we wake them?" Sara asked.
"Yeah," I said. "Jen would want to go ahead and drink something."
I went over to Jen and shook her awake. She opened her eyes. When she saw me, she gave me a little grin.
"We found some wine," I said. "Get up and have a glass or two, then you can go back to sleep."
"You got glasses?" she said.
I stared at her.
"You didn't, did you?"
"I rely on you to think of stuff like that,” I said. “Put your mouth under the spigot.”
"Brian didn't try to shoot you did he? He was a little jumpy right after you left."
"Brian is asleep. Sara is waking him."
Jen pushed herself up on her elbow.
"Brian Davies, you ass!" Jen said playfully. "Falling asleep on watch--you should be ashamed of yourself."
Sara was kneeling next to him. She looked up at us.
"He's hot with fever, and he's not waking up."
CHAPTER 45
Brian had done this before, but this time was different.
"It's too soon, isn't it?" Sara said.
I got to thinking about it and—
"He's been out away from his house for a while. He might have contracted the virus during that time."
"Get some wine in him!" Jen said. "Maybe it isn't too late."
We couldn't wake him. He wouldn't even stir.
"Dammit!" Jen said. "Zach went real fast...real fast. Make him drink it!"
I propped Brian's head in my lap and gently opened his mouth. I put the spigot to the box of wine over his mouth and turned it just enough for a trickle. It filled his mouth and spilled over the side.
"He's not swallowing it," I said. "I'm afraid I'm going to drown him."
Jen dragged herself across the hardwood floors until she was next to him. She started stroking his throat.
"Brian!" she yelled. "Brian, swallow the damn wine!"
"He's burning up," I said. "Let's take him outside in the cold air."
I pulled him outside and lowered the night vision goggles so I could see. I propped his head up in my lap again and gave him more wine. Again, it filled his mouth and spilled over. Sara came out with the shotgun and stood sentry in front of the porch. Jen pulled herself over the threshold, but it was so dark outside, I doubted she could see anything.
Then Brian coughed and sprayed wine in my face. His eyes opened. Through the night vision goggles, his eyes glowed like a demon's. He stared at me coughing and trying to swallow the wine in his mouth.
"Sit up," I said. "You need to get as much down as you can."
I helped him to a sitting position. He slouched there looking down at his lap.
"Head up, Brian," I said. "You need more. I'm going to let it run into your mouth."
His head came up slowly. He looked in my direction, blankly. It was very dark, so he couldn't see me, and he was likely delirious from the fever.
"It's okay," I said. "I can see you; I'm wearing the goggles. Just tilt your head back and I'll get the wine into your mouth."
He just kept staring in my direction.
"Brian, do it," Jen said.
Jen was a little brighter than Brian because I was seeing the faint glow of the gas logs reflecting off of her.
"Is he doing it?" she said. "Brian, are you doing it?"
Then he made a sound. It started out as a whine then built up in volume while deepening in tone. It was like the growl of a cat. I scooted back away from him.
"Jen, get inside and shut the door," I whispered. "Sara and I will come in through the back."
"What happened?" she said. "Brian?"
Brian turned his head toward the direction of Jen's voice. He was between me and her.
"Do it, Jen," I whispered.
I stood up and stepped backward.
"Sara, get around back. Jen will let you in."
Sara stood there on the lawn staring at Brian. With the night vision goggles on, she looked like something from a science fiction movie. Brian had turned toward my voice now.
"Jen, get inside now. He's....gone."
"No," she said. "We have to--"
"Both of you get in the house!" I said, louder than I should have.
Sara took off immediately in a sprint around the side of the house. Brian leapt to his feet, arms extended trying to get his bearings in the dark. He growled again. Jen was pushing herself backward across the floor, crying. I had no weapon, just a box of wine.
"Get that door shut!" I said, backing away.
Brian took a step toward me, following my voice. There was steam coming off him. Jen groped for the door to swing it shut. Brian looked her direction.
"No, Brian," I said. "Come on, now. Follow me. Dammit, Jen, shut the door!"
"I'm trying, but--"
Brian was fast. He darted inside the house.
"Jen!" I yelled.
I was close but not close enough. I ran across the porch. When I got to the door, he was on top of her. She was screaming. I hit him in the head as hard as I could with the box of wine. The box crushed in, but he stayed. I hit him again and again and again. In the green light I could see the dark wine dribbling out of the box and pooling on the floor.
I'd have to use something else; we were going to need that wine.
I kicked him off her. He rolled away. The wine was everywhere....
But the wine was a Zinfandel. It shouldn't have been that dark.
It was blood. Brian's blood was on the box of wine; the blood in the floor belonged to Jen. Her throat was opened up. It was smeared on Brian's cheek. He hissed and came at me.
"God, Brian, no."
I backed out of the house. He looked even more like a demon now. He was sort of hunched forward, eyes glowing, and arms out. Steam emanated off him li
ke smoke as if he'd just stepped out of Hell. I didn't think he'd be able to see me once I got into the yard. He stepped out onto the porch looking around and listening for me. I felt so helpless. Jen was right there so close, bleeding, and I couldn't get to her.
Sara rounded the corner of the house.
"I can't get it open," she said. "Jen hasn't unlocked--"
Brian ran toward her. Sara saw him coming. I could tell she was startled at first, but quickly turned the 12 gauge and let one fly from the hip. There was a flash of bright green from the end of the weapon. The blast hit him in the chest and knocked him off his feet. He hit the ground and was still.
I ran into the house and knelt next to Jen. There was so much blood. I put my hand on her neck, trying to stop it. She couldn't speak, and I didn't know what to say to her. The blood still came, seeping between my fingers. I took off my bandana mask and put it over the wound, but I couldn't stop it.
I felt sick. I knocked the goggles away so I wouldn't have to see.
I heard Sara come into the house. She didn't say anything. My eyes had adjusted to the dim light from the heater. I couldn't see much, but it was enough. Sara came in closer and put her hand on my shoulder.
We were there like that for a while--probably not as long as it seemed.
"We can't stay here," she said softly. "They'll be here soon.”
I nodded but I couldn’t find the strength to talk.
"Grab one of the bags and go get in the bus," she said. "I'll take care of the rest."
I looked up at her. She was still wearing the goggles.
I nodded again and stood slowly. I don't really remember getting the bag, but I did. I felt empty and lost. I got on the bus, went back a couple of rows and sat. I don't know how much time passed, but finally Sara came outside carrying the other bag, the M4, and the shotgun. She climbed inside and stowed the things.
I checked out for a while. I know we drove around, and I know Sara got out of the bus a couple of times. The next thing I know, she's standing in front of me.
"Come on," she said. "We'll stay here until daylight."
I looked out the window. We were parked in front of Nicholas Somerville's house. I looked at Sara.
"It's okay," she said. "We'll leave early in the morning. Besides, I doubt anyone will bother us here. They've already raided the houses on this street."
The water still worked. Sara heated some on the gas range and we both took quick, chilly, and much-needed baths. We changed into the T-shirts and socks from the rucksacks, and both of us found some pants and jackets to wear in the Somervilles' closet. They didn't fit, but at least they didn't smell like death and rot.
Sara had removed the plastic bladder from the box of wine. She pulled it from the rucksack and filled each of us a glass. We righted the overturned couch in the living room and just sat.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"It wasn't his fault," I said absently. "It wasn't Brian's fault. He wasn't him."
"I know," she said. "I'm sorry."
I nodded.
The house was cold. The Somerville's gas furnace would never do us any good. It relied on an electric thermostat and electric blower.
I pulled the curtains off the window, and we used them like a blanket.
"I don't want to leave Jen like that," I said. "I don't want to just leave her in the floor."
"We can go bury her tomorrow," she said.
That statement made me realize how final it was, and I got choked up. Sara took my hand.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"No. I...I don't want to see her. I don't want to see her either."
"I can do it."
"No," I said. "We'll go back when the sun is up and burn the house. Brian, too--I don't want him getting up again."
We finished our glasses of wine and started on another. Sara eventually fell asleep with her head on my shoulder, but I didn't sleep at all. I just kept replaying the events of the evening, of the day, of the two weeks--all of it.
I kept trying to tell myself not to get so upset. I had really only known Jen for a couple of weeks. If it had been a couple of "normal" weeks we might have gone out on a date or two, but that would have been all. It felt like things had been accelerated and amplified since the virus. Certain emotions were unusually heightened while others were unusually subdued.
I'd lost my mom, too. My best friend, Blaine and his beautiful family were gone. I hurt for them, but not the way I would have hurt before. It didn't seem right for me to feel such a great loss over Jen when I didn't feel it for these people I loved...yet I still felt it.
It was comforting to have Sara's head on my shoulder and to listen to her sleep. The wine helped it not to hurt so badly, and I had more than I needed.
Dawn showed a cloudy sky. I slipped away from Sara without waking her and stepped outside. It was cool out but not cold. It looked like we'd have another warm, breezy day like the day before, with the possibility of rain.
The buzz from the wine had worn off, and I was left with a dull headache. I was surprised that I wanted to eat, but I wanted to put Jen and Brian to rest before the rain started. I went back in and woke Sara.
"Come on," I said. "It's time to go."
We drove back out to the house. The front door was still open. Brian's body was gone from the front lawn. I sort of expected that. We sat in the bus staring at the house, trying to get up enough nerve to get out.
"I can't," I said. "I'm really sorry, but I don't want to see her."
"You don't have to," Sara said. "I'll get some sticks and build a fire in the kitchen, and then I'll throw some water on the gas logs. That will put the fire out, but the gas will keep running. Once the gas gets to the fire in the kitchen it should take care of it."
"I can at least help you find some sticks," I said.
"You stay and keep watch for me," she said. "I'll be okay."
I watched her walking around under some large trees on the edge of the property. She seemed so much older than her years. Really, she was just a kid, but times like these can mature a person.
When she had a bundle, she went inside the house. I felt like such a baby for not being willing to go in there myself. She was in there a while. I was just about to make myself go check on her when she came back out of the house still holding the sticks. I stepped out of the bus.
"She's gone, too," she said. "I checked the whole house."
I went as far as the front porch. There were at least three sets of bloody footprints going in and out of the house. For a moment I thought that someone had carried her away, but then I realized some of those footprints were mine and Sara's from the night before. The other set must have been Jen's.
This changed my understanding of things. I had tried to avoid admitting it, but I'd finally surrendered to the notion that the virus was bringing people back to life. However, seeing that Jen was missing added something new.
There were the infected. They were the ones with the fever who'd lost their minds. They were fast, albeit uncoordinated, and operating on animal instincts. Then there were the infected that had died--either through violence or from the virus itself--and had come back to "life." Jen's absence told of a third group. Jen hadn't had the virus before she died, yet because she'd been killed (bitten) by one of the infected, she came back, too.
This gave me pause about the possibility of a fourth group. What would happen to those who neither had the virus, nor were killed by someone with the virus? Would they come back, too?
"Do you want to look for her?" Sara said, dropping the sticks.
"No," I said. "We might find her; then what?"
"What do you want to do?" she said.
I didn't know.
"Crawl in a hole somewhere," I said. "Pull it in on top of me."
She walked over to me. She put her arm around my waist and her head on my chest.
We drove back by the stables. The crowd from the day before was mostly gone. There were just five left. We didn't want to sh
oot them because of the noise, so Sara pulled in close to the barns. We got out and found some farm tools--a shovel for Sara and an axe for me. We bludgeoned and chopped until they were all still then we dragged their bodies in a pile.
There was a lone horse and two chickens left alive. The two chickens that made it did so by flying up and roosting in the rafters of the barn. We couldn't get them to come down. Pieces of the goat were strewn around the barn.
We unloaded the pickup and put the supplies from it into the bus. We went in the house and got everything we could and loaded it into the bus. I went back in for one last pass and saw Jen's stack of magazines next to the couch along with the golf club I'd left her for a cane. I almost lost it right then, but I kept my composure. I took the golf club.
I'd been going along with Jen on everything, and I had not really thought beyond that. My overall plan hadn't changed. I still thought it best to find a way to live here. I had no real desire to wander around the country looking for someone to save me, but I knew I couldn't stay here at the stables. Sara had been right--staying at the Lassiter Stables was what Jen had wanted. It turned out not to be safe anyway.
When the bus was loaded, we poured kerosene on the bodies and set them on fire.
We drove down to the end of the driveway where the hay truck was still parked askew. I stopped and Sara got out.
"Where are we going?" she said.
"I don't know," I said. "It almost doesn't matter."
She climbed back up on the steps.
"Listen, I know you're hurting, but we can't give up. They'll get us if we give up."
I nodded, staring out the windshield at nothing in particular.
"You said yourself that this is a chance for us to live however we want and wherever we want. Is there some place you've ever wanted to live? Some place other than Clayfield?"
"Clayfield is home," I said.
"We could drive south and find us a nice place on the Gulf, right on the beach. How does that sound?”
"Is that what you want?" I said, looking at her.
She smiled and looked down at her feet then back up at me.
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