HOLD

by Duane P. Craig

  As Beth and Sid awo­ke, I was for­cing my bro­ken fo­ot back in­to a shoe. I knew that if I didn’t ke­ep it warm and start wal­king on it then I wo­uld so­on suc­cumb to frost­bi­te. I don’t fe­el li­ke lo­sing my fo­ot. I’ve se­en all tho­se shows on the Dis­co­very Chan­nel abo­ut tho­se dum­bas­ses who clim­bed a mo­un­ta­in, lop­ped off the­ir fin­gers and to­es and then gimp aro­und on in­ter­vi­ews bul­lshit­ting ever­yo­ne abo­ut how it was re­al­ly worth it - that they’re re­al men now. My tho­ughts? - stu­pid half-a-mot­her­fuc­kers. I ho­pe they got ro­tary pho­nes for the­ir birth­days.

  Beth didn’t want to go in­to the town. She re­al­ly didn’t want me wal­king on my fo­ot. Sid co­uld ca­re less. He hop­ped aro­und in the snow li­ke a child and snap­ping at snowf­la­kes.

  Eit­her way we ven­tu­red out we­aring mul­tip­le shirts for warmth. It to­ok lon­ger than I wan­ted it too, but we wal­ked in­to the town and im­me­di­ately fo­und a mom & pop re­ta­il sto­re.

  They had everyt­hing I was lo­oking for - lan­terns, ke­ro­se­ne, tshirts, swe­aters, long un­der­we­ar, thick jac­kets, co­ats, sle­eping bags and hun­ting ge­ar - lots of hun­ting ge­ar. Best of all - no­ne of the guns we­re be­hind glass ca­ses nor was the am­mu­ni­ti­on. Beth and I both ha­ve a co­up­le of 20-gu­age, pump ac­ti­on shot­guns. I swe­ar we ha­ve eno­ugh am­mu­ni­ti­on to ta­ke out an en­ti­re city of gho­uls. We al­so snatc­hed a lot of jerky and can­ned go­ods we fo­und in the sto­re al­so. I snatc­hed a hu­ge tarp and lo­aded it with all of our new go­ods. The tarp has tho­se ho­les for sta­king it down. I used a ro­pe I fo­und to run thro­ugh the ho­les in the tarp and ma­de a hand­le. We ma­de our way back to the tra­in wit­ho­ut a prob­lem. I ne­ver saw a tra­ce of any gho­uls. I’m not get­ting ex­ci­ted, yet. We didn't even ven­tu­re 20 yards in­to town, and the­re lo­oks to be a lot of pla­ces that gho­uls co­uld be in­si­de of.

  It got dark very qu­ickly to­day, and the tem­pe­ra­tu­re drop­ped fast. We ha­ve plenty to help ke­ep us warm wit­ho­ut tur­ning on the en­gi­ne. To­mor­row’s plan is to swe­ep the town for mo­re fo­od, and so­me me­di­ci­ne. I’m al­re­ady lo­ading the shot­guns.

  DAY - 34

  fuck sle­ep - I ap­pa­rently don’t ne­ed much la­tely, and my dam­ned fo­ot isn't hel­ping. It was early when I left Beth and Sid in the en­gi­ne still as­le­ep. With it still sno­wing so­me, snow everyw­he­re on the gro­und and it be­ing cold as hell, I didn’t think the­re wo­uld be any gho­uls to bot­her them.

  Get­ting down from the en­gi­ne, I damn ne­ar bus­ted my ass be­ca­use of the ice, so I de­fi­ni­tely knew that any fre­ezing up gho­uls co­uldn’t get abo­ard.

  I was bund­led up well un­der a ho­odie and my new, hu­ge co­at and ni­ce thick pants. My fe­et, now in so­me hi­king bo­ots I al­so swi­ped yes­ter­day, al­so felt war­mer. I had my shot­gun re­ady and se­ve­ral poc­kets of shells for re­lo­ading. I bro­ught the sword too - in my belt lo­op as usu­al. Pro­bably a go­od half­ho­ur is what it to­ok to get in­to the town. I be­gan wal­king down the ma­in stre­et lo­oking for ot­her sto­res - ot­her sup­pli­es that we co­uld use. With it be­ing con­si­de­rably dar­ker than yes­ter­day be­ca­use of the over­cast we­at­her, I co­uld see that so­me of the sto­res se­emed to still ha­ve elect­ri­city - lights on - which al­so pos­sibly me­ant they we­re cli­ma­te cont­rol­led - he­ated may­be. I so­on fo­und myself int­ri­gu­ed with a ha­ir sa­lon. It was the usu­al si­ze pla­ce with tho­se big bay win­dows you can see in­to. I step­ped in­si­de the sa­lon to get a cle­ar vi­ew of what I tho­ught was just my ima­gi­na­ti­on. I im­me­di­ately felt the ro­om was warm which ma­de sen­se to the sce­na­rio be­fo­re me.

  The­re was one gho­ul to my left - a lady - who was se­ated in a cha­ir and fla­iling abo­ut. She had one of tho­se drop-down ha­ir dryers stuck on her he­ad. It was hol­ding her in pla­ce, pre­ven­ting her from get­ting up to walk abo­ut. Then to my right anot­her gho­ul - a bar­ber - who was stan­ding be­si­de a torn up, de­ad body se­ated in his cus­to­mer’s cha­ir. The bar­ber was using scis­sors as it snip­ped off pi­eces of the de­ad body’s he­ad and was then eating them. I co­uldn’t help but to start la­ug­hing hyste­ri­cal­ly - cla­iming the gho­ul's at­ten­ti­ons. I just as qu­ickly to­ok aim with my shot­gun and blew half of the bar­ber’s he­ad off. The bar­ber drop­ped fast. I then fi­red two shots in­to the drop down ha­ir dryer un­til the fla­iling lady’s arms fell limp. I sur­ve­yed the da­ma­ge that I had do­ne. The­re we­re pi­eces of bra­ins all over the walls - I fuc­king lo­ve shot­guns. I grab­bed a co­up­le pa­ir of scis­sors and poc­ke­ted them. I enj­oyed the warm tem­pe­ra­tu­re, but it was ti­me to le­ave, and so I to­ok out aga­in to the ma­in stre­et of town. I was su­re that if tho­se gho­uls had sta­yed warm, then the­re we­re pro­bably ot­hers who may co­me my way af­ter he­aring the shot­gun. I had a few mo­re prob­lems with ice patc­hes in ma­king my way back to our tra­in.

  I abo­ut bus­ted my ass se­ve­ral mo­re ti­mes. I so­on saw Beth co­ming my di­rec­ti­on with Sid on his le­ash. She was bund­led up and ke­eping a firm aim at me with her shot­gun un­til I yel­led lo­ud eno­ugh at her that I was okay. Sid mo­ved his fas­test and po­un­ced at me to play with him. I ob­li­ged him as best I co­uld be­ing cold and so bund­led up.

  It star­ted to snow and ice rat­her he­avily aga­in. I was sha­ring the know­led­ge abo­ut town to Beth, but we had no cho­ice but to go back to our tra­in. The we­at­her was ma­king the tra­in damn ne­ar im­pos­sib­le to bo­ard, but we ma­de it back in­si­de. I ha­te this we­at­her - so do­es Beth.

  DAY - 35

  I’m bit­ten. I wasn’t fast eno­ugh - got rat­tled. I can’t even think of much el­se be­si­des how it hap­pe­ned and ho­ping that my tho­ughts on the na­no­tech­no­logy, at the mo­ment, are mo­re ac­cu­ra­te than my pre­vi­o­us pa­ra­no­id be­li­efs.

  This mor­ning Beth and I bund­led up aga­in, and we grab­bed our we­apons. It was no lon­ger sno­wing. In fact, the sun was out and of­fe­red a bit of warmth amidst the thick, snow co­ve­red gro­und. We got Sid on his le­ash and he­aded in­to town aga­in. We we­re to se­arch furt­her in­to town. I re­mem­ber ta­king glan­ces at the stal­led car­go tra­in on our way. I was thin­king that my fu­tu­re plan af­ter rum­ma­ging thro­ugh town so­me mo­re wo­uld work just fi­ne. I just had to ke­ep exp­lo­ring the ha­ven of sup­pli­es in this town, tho­ugh. I wan­ted to get as much as Che­yen­ne Wells co­uld of­fer us.

  Furt­her in­to town we went - fart­her down the ma­in stre­et. The sto­re that fi­nal­ly at­trac­ted our col­lec­ti­ve at­ten­ti­on was a pet sto­re. The win­dows we­re fi­ne - the do­or too. The lights we­re wor­king, and from the lo­oks of things the ani­mals in­si­de we­re qu­ite ac­ti­ve. On­ce in­si­de, we wit­nes­sed birds in ca­ges, dogs in ken­nels, cats in glass bins, hams­ters and ro­dents - they all lo­oked to ha­ve be­en can­ni­ba­li­zing each ot­her. Sid was very con­fu­sed to the who­le si­tu­ati­on. He knew it was bad, what was in the­re, but he se­emed very int­ri­gu­ed by a spil­la­ge of va­ri­o­us pet fo­ods all abo­ut the flo­ors. I ma­de Beth hold him still. Open fo­od co­uld’ve be­en con­ta­mi­na­ted fo­od. I didn’t want to ta­ke that risk. Then the re­al prob­lem pre­sen­ted it­self.

  A hu­ge gho­ul emer­ged from the back of the sto­re. It was a mas­si­vely over­we­ight per­son and it was eating what lo­oked li­ke an igu­ana. Beth ins­tantly fi­red her shot­gun at the gho­ul hit­ting its chest. I fell to the gro­und start­led that she had fi­red her gun from be­hind me. Beth fi­red aga­in and to­ok its he­ad off. The hu­ge gho­ul fell si­de­ways cras­hing thro­ugh a bin of kit­tens. The kit­tens scam­pe­red abo­ut and then be­gan co­ming for us. I shot
one from my se­ated po­si­ti­on, Beth shot two of them, but the last kit­ten got clo­se eno­ugh to bi­te my hand. I qu­ickly grab­bed it and bro­ke its neck, and then smas­hed it with the butt of the shot­gun un­til it was a blo­ody mess. All the whi­le, the ot­her ani­mals we­re sta­ying no­isy. I tho­ught for su­re that Beth wo­uld kill me right the­re, but she ins­te­ad hel­ped me to my fe­et and out­si­de. On­ce out in the stre­et we had to blast a few mo­re gho­uls who had co­me out of hi­ding.

  Beth was mo­re wor­ri­ed abo­ut get­ting out of town in one pi­ece than to bot­her with ta­king me out. In a way, I gu­ess she used me - can’t say I wo­uldn’t ha­ve do­ne the sa­me. On­ce we ne­ared our tra­in she fi­nal­ly tur­ned on me and ra­ised her shot­gun. I was su­re that was it, but af­ter se­ve­ral mo­ments, she put her gun back down and grab­bed my arm to help me get up in­to the tra­in.

  Beth had be­en sit­ting ac­ross from me, next to Sid, all night.

  She's got a fully lo­aded shot­gun in her lap and is just sta­ring away as I’ve be­en wri­ting this down. This may be my last entry.

  DAY- 36

  I awo­ke this mor­ning to the sun, bright and so­mew­hat war­mer and shi­ning in­to the en­gi­ne. The ice was sli­ding off of the win­dows in chunks. I felt very lucky to be ali­ve. I no­ti­ced that Beth and Sid fell as­le­ep in the sa­me po­si­ti­on as last night - sit­ting di­rectly ac­ross from me. Beth still had her shot­gun in her lap, po­in­ted at me. Luc­kily, her fin­gers we­ren’t on the trig­ger. I tho­ught abo­ut sa­ying so­met­hing to wa­ke her or may­be tap­ping her, but then aga­in, why start­le so­me­one with a gun ha­ving no re­ason to trust you? So, I sat qu­i­etly and wa­ited for her to wa­ke up. I sat for a long whi­le and be­gan to qu­es­ti­on everyt­hing I know abo­ut this bi­omec­ha­ni­cal pla­gue we’re de­aling with.

  Sid ac­tu­al­ly wo­ke up first and ca­me over lic­king me li­ke I was a Pop­sic­le. It was go­od news, tho­ugh. I felt fi­ne for on­ce sin­ce the pet sto­re, yes­ter­day. Su­rely Sid wo­uld sen­se a chan­ge in me and not be so fri­endly was I be­co­ming a thre­at.

  Beth awo­ke to see Sid was still ap­pro­ving of me. She smi­led and it told me that I still sto­od a go­od chan­ce of han­ging aro­und. She im­me­di­ately to­ok to lo­oking at my hand - the bi­te from the kit­ten. I hadn’t even tho­ught to lo­ok at it myself, so we we­re both surp­ri­sed at the sight. The bi­te wasn’t the­re. It was he­aled - li­ke it ne­ver even hap­pe­ned. Beth ins­tantly pul­led Sid away from me and held her gun at me aga­in. I tal­ked to her as much as I co­uld - as fast as I co­uld. I sa­id everyt­hing I had be­en ob­ses­sing over and how things aren’t ad­ding up to what we pre­vi­o­usly tho­ught to be true:

  If I am in­fec­ted, but not al­re­ady de­ad, su­rely the na­no­tech­no­logy wo­uldn’t at­tempt to kill my func­ti­onal cells when they are prog­ram­med to re­pa­ir de­ad tis­sue. How el­se wo­uld my bi­te ha­ve he­aled so fast? May­be the prob­lem was the mi­li­tary’s at­tempts at re­ani­ma­ting the de­ad? It ma­kes sen­se in that way - it wo­uld be a we­apon in that ins­tan­ce. But I am very much ali­ve - the only thre­at from me wo­uld be af­ter I die - just li­ke the ot­hers. May­be I’m not such a li­abi­lity? May­be, now, I am much mo­re of an as­set?

  I kept tal­king and ple­ading my ca­se - all day ac­tu­al­ly. Beth fi­nal­ly lo­oked com­for­tab­le on one to­pic, tho­ugh - the plan that I had be­en wa­iting to put in­to ac­ti­on re­gar­ding ma­king it to the mo­un­ta­ins. She han­ded me my sword. If I un­ders­tand her right, I’m trus­ted as much un­til I show any signs of vi­olen­ce to­wards her or Sid - Fa­ir eno­ugh. In re­turn I pro­mi­sed her that to­mor­row I will do wha­te­ver it ta­kes to get us mo­ving aga­in.

  To­mor­row be­ca­use it has got­ten dark early aga­in, and alt­ho­ugh I'm be­yond the fe­ar of dying, I'm not stu­pid.

  DAY - 37

  I awo­ke this mor­ning and qu­ickly lo­oked to my left hand.

  Yes­ter­day the bi­te was he­aled, and to­day I ha­ve a dark spot for­ming un­der my skin. I ins­tantly tho­ught of the brown rec­lu­se bi­te I had re­ce­ived all tho­se ye­ars ago. I de­ci­ded to we­ar the glo­ves I had ta­ken from the out­do­or go­ods sto­re. They're very si­mi­lar to the glo­ves one wo­uld we­ar in ba­se­ball - li­ke bat­ting glo­ves, sort of.

  I gat­he­red myself to­get­her. I wan­ted to ke­ep my word to Beth and Sid, so I calmly exi­ted our tra­in. I left them still as­le­ep. I ma­de way to the stal­led car­go tra­in’s en­gi­ne, clim­bed abo­ard and upon en­te­ring the en­gi­ne, I wit­nes­sed a re­al mess of a gho­ul. It was only a tor­so, one arm and a he­ad held lo­osely by a few li­ga­ments and its spi­ne. It al­most lo­oked li­ke it had be­en eating it­self. Ob­vi­o­usly he­re for qu­ite a whi­le, its mess was now iced over blo­od co­ve­ring the flo­or. I simply snap­ped its neck by stom­ping it a few ti­mes. I then got the en­gi­ne star­ted and run­ning fi­ne. It se­emed to ha­ve a ne­arly full tank, which furt­her int­ri­gu­ed me as to why it was stop­ped in the first pla­ce. The best I can fi­gu­re is may­be this per­son stop­ped he­re thin­king it was a ni­ce iso­la­ted town - unaf­fec­ted - and fo­und the op­po­si­te. I then fo­und myself at Beth’s gun­po­int. She to­ok so­me ti­me to lo­ok in my eyes se­cu­ring her tho­ughts abo­ut me and then hug­ged me slightly. I told her to wa­it out­si­de whi­le I cle­aned out the en­gi­ne for us. We then mo­ved all of our sup­pli­es to our new tra­in. I de­ci­ded to put our old tra­in in re­ver­se and we watc­hed for a mo­ment as it fa­ded away. I then got our new tra­in le­ading us west aga­in - my pro­mi­se kept. I’ve al­so no­ti­ced my fo­ot still hurts li­ke hell - an ar­gu­ab­le po­int for me.

  Then Beth no­ti­ced so­met­hing in the win­dow se­als of the tra­in - de­ad in­sects - mos­qu­ito­es. I ha­ven’t even tho­ught abo­ut it.

  The who­le pla­gue star­ted du­ring two very warm we­eks for a Janu­ary. Tho­se dam­ned na­no­tech’s are in the blo­od, and win­ter is just now hit­ting the co­untry this ye­ar - just now kil­ling the fuc­king mos­qu­ito­es. No won­der it spre­ad so fast.

  I sne­aked anot­her lo­ok at my left hand when Beth was busy lo­oking out the win­dows. The dark spot is get­ting big­ger. I’m thin­king abo­ut stop­ping our tra­in aga­in du­ring the day to­mor­row - so­mew­he­re - any town. I’m go­ing to find a doc­tor’s of­fi­ce, may­be a mi­nor emer­gency cli­nic - so­met­hing. I ha­ve a co­up­le of op­ti­ons in mind to tre­at this dam­ned in­fec­ti­on.

  DAY - 38

  We’re stop­ped aga­in. The town is cal­led Ben­nett, Co­lo­ra­do. On the map it shows Ben­nett as the last small town be­fo­re re­ac­hing Den­ver, but as hu­ge as Den­ver is, I’m not so su­re I even want to risk it.

  I was al­re­ady thin­king the tal­lest bu­il­ding in town had to be a hos­pi­tal - just too ob­vi­o­us. I sne­aked anot­her lo­ok at my hand. My fin­gers are star­ting to turn purp­le. I still ha­ve mo­tor func­ti­ons, tho­ugh. The na­no­tech’s se­em mo­re li­ke they’re af­fec­ting blo­od flow. In fact the who­le thing re­minds me of auto­im­mu­ne di­se­ase. My fat­her suf­fe­red from it. It’s when yo­ur whi­te blo­od cells start at­tac­king a prob­lem that isn’t the­re, thus cre­ating a big­ger prob­lem.

  Beth, Sid and I exi­ted the tra­in whi­le all bund­led up and ha­ving our we­apons re­ady. I’m still only trus­ted with my sword. Beth held her shot­gun as usu­al. We stuck to the ma­in stre­et of town as our se­cu­re path. We en­te­red a small gas sta­ti­on for a mo­ment whe­re I grab­bed a ro­ad map of Co­lo­ra­do and anot­her map for the area that lis­ted hu­ge parks ne­arby - pic­tu­res of mo­un­ta­in sce­nery. The sa­me mo­un­ta­ins had my eye as so­on as we exi­ted the tra­in. A new plan for­med in my he­ad, and I was eager to put it to ac­ti­on. But firs
t, I con­vin­ced Beth to ag­ree to on us ma­king a run for the hos­pi­tal. She knew why. I just got lucky that she wasn’t too cu­ri­o­us to lo­ok at my hand.

  Mo­ments la­ter and we re­ac­hed the tall hos­pi­tal bu­il­ding. I held my sword re­ady and en­te­red in thro­ugh the emer­gency ro­om ent­ran­ce. I told Beth to stay back in ca­se it was a ha­ven for the un­de­ad. She gladly ob­li­ged and se­emed very re­ady to eit­her run with Sid or start sho­oting. To our surp­ri­se the­re we­re no gho­uls - only de­ad bo­di­es and lots of blo­od. I ma­de has­te and didn’t he­si­ta­te to find so­me me­di­cal equ­ip­ment I had plan­ned on using. I qu­ickly fo­und so­me de­fib­ril­la­ti­on pad­dles - the things that send mas­si­ve elect­ric cur­rents to pe­op­le’s he­arts. The who­le thing ran off of a bat­tery pack, so I didn’t ne­ed the elect­ri­city that the town was lac­king. Beth lo­oked very in­te­res­ted and con­fu­sed as to what I was trying to ac­comp­lish, so I exp­la­ined my plan to her:

  If the na­no­tech­no­logy in­si­de of me is not­hing mo­re than a bunch of tiny mac­hi­nes do­ing da­ma­ge, then I’m go­ing to fry the fuck out of them. I’m go­ing to send eno­ugh elect­ri­city in­si­de of me to dest­roy them all - to hell with how much it wo­uld hurt. The pad­dles are char­ged up, and I’m go­ing to pla­ce one pad­dle atop my hand as I grip the ot­her. I’m inst­ruc­ting Beth to ke­ep the jo­ur­nal go­ing sho­uld I not sur­vi­ve this.

  DAY - 39

  Beth wo­ke me by slap­ping my fa­ce. Sid ad­ded to it by lic­king my en­ti­re fa­ce. I’ve got to get his ass so­me bre­ath mints, may­be so­me Al­to­ids. I had be­en out for ne­arly ten ho­urs. Beth had drag­ged me in­to a nur­se’s sta­ti­on and loc­ked the do­or. I co­uldn’t see that any gho­uls had be­en aro­und eit­her. Beth then held my ung­lo­ved, left hand up to my fa­ce.