by White, Amber
“You would be part of an experiment that could save the remainder of mankind. Even if we couldn’t cure the long-term infected, the results derived from your test could give everyone else the chance they need to start over.” Bobby said, sweat beading on his forehead.
I was furious. “I can’t believe you have the audacity to think that you can just force me to take part in your little science project. To kill another human being by infecting them like that, I don’t know what’s more questionable: your morals or your sanity. And besides, there aren’t many people left here. You would be killing me for nothing.”
“I wouldn’t be killing you. I would be infecting you with a disease that can be cured!” he said.
“What proof do you have that it works?” Sully said.
“I’ve been coming upstairs with more and more scratches lately.” Bobby said.
“We’ve noticed.” Sully said.
“I’ve been scratched by the infected. I injected myself with the serum each time, and I have yet to become fully infected.”
“So you think it works as an inoculation. That doesn’t mean it’s also a cure.” I said.
“If you would please, please put the gun down, I could show you some of the test results I have.”
I lowered my gun “Don’t let him out of your sight. If he makes one wrong move, shoot him.” I said to Sully.
Sully nodded. It’s generally frowned upon to promote the murdering of a fellow survivor and housemate, but in his case, I’ll make an exception.
“Are you guys ok?” Billie’s voice floated down the staircase.
“We’re fine. Bobby is just explaining what he’s been doing.” Sully called.
Bobby stepped toward the work table and gently lifted a set of test tubes, setting them gingerly next to the microscope. He set to work, preparing two slides, dropping each with a different sample of blood and an added dye. He placed the first on the mechanical stage and focused it.
“This is what non infected human blood looks like.” He said, indicating that I should look at it.
I stepped forward and looked through the eyepiece. It showed a large group of pinkish blobs.
“These are red blood cells under normal conditions.” He said.
I stepped away from the table.
He put the next slide up. “This is what infected blood looks like.”
I looked down at it. The pink blobs from the previous slide were now littered with purple; many were bursting as I watched.
“This blood sample was taken from that man.” He said, pointing to the zombie in the holding cell. It was no longer pounding against the glass, but it was still staring at us.
I moved back again, and he removed the slide from the stage. He prepared another slide with infected blood, this time dropping a clear liquid onto it before adding the dye, sliding it onto the stage, and refocusing.
“Now look.” He said.
I obeyed. Though some of the cells were bursting, a group of clear cells were fighting their way through, slowly demolishing the purple blobs in their wake.
“The clear substance you see is the serum. It’s eliminating the infection, leaving the remaining cells to regenerate.”
“I still won’t let you do this to me.” I said. Sure, this was all fairly impressive, but I didn’t want to risk what could happen if it didn’t work the way he said it would.
“You might consider it, for the sake of mankind and future generations.” Bobby said.
“I might stick a fork in a toaster.” I said, raising my gun again. “I’m not letting you infect me, and that’s final. Come on Sully, we’re getting as far away from this psychopath as we possibly can.”
We walked back up the stairs and into the entryway.
“We’re leaving.” I told Billie and Dean.
“No, you’re not.” Bobby said from behind me. I hadn’t heard him come up.
I felt a sharp prick on my arm, a burning sensation spreading from it, quickly coursing through my body. Sparky, Steven, and Todd grabbed onto my friends, yanking their guns out of their hands. I was getting tired. Andy strode toward me, pulling my rifle out of my failing grasp and set it aside. The last thing I remember was him reaching toward me again before I blacked out.
Chapter fifteen
When I woke up, my head was pounding. At first, I didn’t recognize where I was. I hadn’t been in this room before. It was small, the threadbare carpet faded from the sunlight streaming in through a unadorned window. I tried to move and found my hands and feet bound tightly with rope, my arms raised above my head. Someone moved next to me.
“Jo? Are you awake?” It was Billie.
“Yeah,” I groaned. “What happened?”
“That freak Bobby drugged you with something. We were dragged up here and tied up.” Came Dean’s voice from Billie’s other side.
“The good news is, we aren’t dead.” Billie said.
“Well, that’s comforting.” I huffed.
“I do what I can.”
“And Sully?” I asked.
“I’m here.” Sully said from my other side. His sounded different, like he was really congested or something
“Are you ok?” I said.
“I’m fine. Your best friend Todd gave me a bloody nose.” He said.
I swore.
“Hey, easy now.” Andy’s voice echoed from across the room. I hadn’t noticed him sitting there.
“Easy? You want me to take it easy? I was drugged and now my friends and I are tied up like damned prisoners!” I said.
“And that means you can’t be civil?” He asked.
“I’ll show you civil you…” I started.
“Just think of this as a party.” He interrupted.
“Oh, real great party. Maybe later we can get some formaldehyde and embalm each other.” I shot.
“Look, I don’t like this anymore than you do, but I don’t have a choice. If I don’t stand watch over you, I’ll be tied up right next to you.” He sighed.
“So you would rather hold people prisoner than stand up for what you believe in?” I asked.
“It’s not like that.”
“Then what is it like?” Sully said. “’cause from where we’re sitting, you’re more than happy to be our captore.”
“I don’t want to do this. I could guard you, and keep you relatively safe for the time being, or I could be tied up with you; unable to do anything.” Andy said.
“And just what do you think you’re going to be able to do?” Dean asked.
“I might be able to help you escape.” Andy whispered.
Billie laughed. “Do you really expect us to believe you?” She said.
“There’s a word that describes exactly what you just told me: Idiotic.” I said.
“I want to help you!” Andy said.
“Then untie us and let us go.” I snarled.
“I can’t do that, not now.” Andy said, lowering his head.
“Then what good are you?” Billie asked.
He didn’t answer. He sat there for a moment, head in his hands, before standing and slowly walking up to me, caressing my cheek with his hand.
“If you ever touch me again MacGarret, I will shoot you in the face with a missile.” I said.
“No, you won’t.” He said.
“I’d believe her if I were you. She can be downright vicious. If she got into Hell, the Devil would toss her a matchbook and say ‘start your own’.” Dean said.
Andy rested his hand on my face. I struggled to get away.
“Don’t you freaking touch her again!” Sully yelled.
Andy turned to him. “What are you going to do to stop me?” He asked.
I lifted my legs and kicked him, hard. Andy stumbled back, hurt.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” He asked.
“You want a list?” I said, raising an eyebrow. “I told you not to touch me.”
“And I told you, I’m trying to help you! I don’t want to hurt you.” He said
.
“Sorry, my quota for stupid people has been filled for today. Try again when you develop some brains.” I said.
Andy returned to his seat, grumbling and limping. At least I managed to temporarily wound the jerk.
We were forced to spend two days in that small room before we were allowed to see the rest of the house again. Sully was forced to stay in Todd’s room, Dean in Steven and Sparky’s room. Billie had been tied up in the girls’ room, forced to entertain them with tea parties and puppet theaters. I was ‘graced’ with being forced into Mary and Elizabeth’s room. They made me play dress up and used me as a guinea pig for their sadistic makeup rituals.
A week into my torture, they had me in a short skirt and tube top, stilettos strapped to my feet and about two pounds of homemade makeup on my face, my bound hands hanging from a rope attached to the celling. Andy passed the open door, stopped, backtracked and peeked in, a rather lecherous grin on his face.
“Hey there hot-stuff.” He said.
“You ever get a stiletto to the face?” I asked.
“Once, yes, at this crazy bachelorette party.” He grinned.
“Let me guess, you got in trying to claim you were a strip-o-gram and they freaked out when they saw just how hideous you were.”
“Now that really hurt.” He frowned.
Mary slapped my hand. “Be nice to him!”
He walked in, standing in front of me, trying to get a good look. He ran his hands down my arms, onto my chest and further. I shuddered.
“Why don’t we see what you look like with your arms down? Though I admit I like the idea of you being tied up.” He said, releasing the rope holding my arms up.
I punched him in the jaw. Elizabeth slapped me hard, and I fell over, unable to keep my balance in the heels.
“Apologize!” She ordered.
Andy rubbed the red spot on his face, angry.
“All right, I’ll apologize for punching him in the face. But he’s got to apologize for existing!” I said.
“Forget it Elizabeth. Girls like that don’t apologize to people. They’d rather torture them.” Andy said.
“Torture? You want to talk about torture? Let’s play the never-ending dress up sleepover with Dementia and Fester over here, and see how you like it!” I said. “I was just defending myself against a pretentious douchbag who keeps harassing me!”
That was apparently the wrong thing to say. As Andy walked off, still rubbing his jaw, Mary and Elizabeth forced me to my feet at gun point, stringing my up more tightly than before. Elizabeth kept the pistol, the pistol they had stolen from me, trained on my head as Mary dug something out of their closet. At first I thought it would be another revolting outfit until I saw it, a short black whip. And not just any whip, no. These freaks had a cat-o-nine tails, complete with tiny knots at the end.
“You do not talk to us like that!” Mary all but shrieked.
They striped me bare and took turns beating me, whipping me harder the more I cried out. I could do nothing to stop them, my arms shaking as I strained against my bonds. Without the stilettos, I was forced onto my toes, my legs trembling in their attempt to keep me standing.
Andy rushed back in, Bobby right behind him.
“What are you doing?” Andy screamed, horrified.
“We’re punishing her.” Mary said, matter-of-factly.
“You can’t do that to her! We need her completely healthy for the experiment!” Bobby said.
“What’s going on now?” Brennan said, walking in.
“Your daughters where flogging her.” Bobby said, agitated.
“Girls?” Brennan said.
“She hit Andy, and called us nasty names!” The girls said.
“I need her healthy and without any wounds for the experiment.” Bobby said.
“Girls, let her down.” Brennan ordered.
“But Dad!” They moaned.
“Don’t argue with me. Let her down, and if she gets so much as another scratch from you two, she’s going into a different room, where you won’t be able to visit her.” He said.
The girls untied me grudgingly, tossing my clothes at my feet. “Get dressed.” Mary ordered. Elizabeth pointed the gun at me again. How could two once sweet girls become so sadistic?
I dressed slowly, blood dripping from the wounds they inflicted.
“I can get you out of this room.” Andy whispered in my ear.
“Into where? Your room? I don’t think so.” I said.
“How about with Billie then?” He asked. “The kids are nice to her.”
I considered it for a moment. “What would you want in return?”
“For you to be a little nicer to me. Don’t hit me again, ok?” He said.
“Fine. You get me out of this hell hole, and I won’t hit you again unless you really, really deserve it.” I said.
“That’s good enough for me.” He smiled and walked back out.
Andy was true to his word. I was removed from Mary’s and Elizabeth’s room, briefly examined in Bobby’s lab where my wounds were cleaned and disinfected, and tied up in the girl’s room on the opposite side from Billie.
“What happened to you?” Billie asked, wide eyed.
“Those freaks whipped me.” I said.
I was exhausted, bloody, and sore. Though I was glad to finally see one of my friends again, all I wanted to do was sleep.
“What the hell? We need to get out of here!” Billie said.
“I know.” I yawned. “But I need some rest first.”
After a few minutes, when I had dozed and snapped awake again, hearing the footfalls of someone wandering around upstairs, thinking I was going to be whipped again then settling back down, I asked Billie:
“Still think Todd is hot after all this?”
“What?” She asked. “No, I stopped being interested after he stabbed his zombie girl. Tortured emo types aren’t my thing.”
I laughed, a little delirious. I had missed her quirky comments; her unusual personality, especially when I had been surrounded by broken ones, myself included.
That night, when everyone else was playing a board game in the living room, Andy came up to visit me.
“How are you?” He asked.
“Ever have one of those days where you want to set someone’s face on fire and put it out with a fork?” I asked.
“No.” He said.
“Oh, well that’s the day I’m having.”
He laughed. “Here, I brought you and your friends some water.” He held up four water bottles.
“Why are you being so nice to me?” I asked.
“Because I think you’re hot and because if I was in your situation, I would hope someone would help me out too.”
I did not understand him. I gave all the signs of disinterest, even going so far as to be cruel at times, and he came back for more. He was starting to grow on me, but a pain in the ass by any other name was still a MacGarret.
Life was a lot easier in the children’s room. They mostly played outside, which gave us the opportunity to talk. The girls would occasionally bring us little snacks in addition to our two small meals a day, in exchange for us playing games with them and telling them stories.
I didn’t have to say there long before Bobby was ready for me. Todd, Steven, and Sparky surrounded me, Steven and Sparky carried me downstairs while Todd pointed a rifle at my head, warning me not to move.
In the basement, Brennan held the zombie away from the door in the cell by a rope around its neck. Steven and Sparky dumped me inside before quickly retreating and locking the door behind them.
Chapter sixteen
Brennan let loose some slack on the rope and the zombie lurched forward, its blank eyes fixed on me. There was nowhere for me to run, and no weapons for me to use.
I dodged this way and that, desperately fleeing its grasp, but it was catching on.
“You can’t do this to me!” I screamed.
My captors ignored me.
The zombie
shambled forward again, inching closer. With no other option, I reached up to snap its neck. My hands wound through its arms and onto its face. It struggled, leaning backward and grabbing onto my arms, digging into my soft flesh with boney, unfeeling fingers, jagged scratches trailing after it. It thrashed its head back and forth, trying to throw me off. It worked. For a moment my hands were vulnerable, and it bit me, hard.
I shrieked. Blood poured from the wound, spilling out onto the floor; it felt like my hand was in a vice. The zombie tumbled backward, eyes wide in shock. Brennan had yanked the rope back, pinning it against glass. The door opened slowly, I could feel a gun being pointed at me, and this time I wasn’t afraid of it, or angry at whoever was holding it, I was glad. I was a dead woman walking, and I wanted to be shot before I turned.
Firm hands pulled me out; I didn’t struggle. The hands guided me to the gleaming steel table, lifting me and laying me down on it.
“Kill me now.” I whispered.
“No, you aren’t going to die.” Bobby said.
Steven and Sparky strapped me down. Tight leather cuffs held me fast to the table, my wrists and ankles trapped against the cold metal.
“The bite looks deep. I’ll have to clean the blood off to know more.” Bobby said.
Something wet and cottony pressed against my hand. It stung.
I gasped, tears springing to my eyes.
“You still feel pain? That’s good.” Bobby smiled.
He wiped the stinging liquid across the wound, cleansing it.
“It will most certainly transmit the infection.” He said, nodding. “I’ll draw blood to start testing now.”
There was a tiny clink, like something small being picked up off a metal tray.
“Bobby, look at her. I don’t think she can take much more.” Brennan whispered from somewhere to my left.
“It is necessary.” Bobby said.
I felt a slight pinch on the crook of my arm, a needle being inserted for the blood draw.
“How long before she starts to turn?” Sparky asked.
“I don’t know.” Bobby said. “It varies from person to person, but I doubt it will take more than a day or two.”
A day or two. I could be stuck like this for two days, not knowing when I’d turn, when I would stop being myself. I knew then that it didn’t matter if the infected- the zombies- could think or feel. They were hungry for flesh; a threat to the uninfected.
