The Redivivus Trilogy (Book 3): Miasma

by Kirk Withrow

  Lydia winced at the mention of Annalee’s stump, and she hoped the word was something she was going to have to get used to.

  “Thank you for taking care of her, Lin. Can I sit with her?” Lydia asked.

  “Of course,” Lin replied, stepping out of Lydia’s way.

  Lydia pulled a chair alongside Annalee’s sleeping form. Kate had placed a blanket over the girl, leaving only her head visible. Lydia placed a hand on Annalee’s cheek. Her skin felt warm but not feverish, and Lydia took that to be a good sign.

  “Hey, sweetie. It’s me. How’s my little girl?”

  It sounded strange to hear herself say that, but it was exactly how Lydia felt about Annalee. She wished more than anything that Annalee would wake up and respond to her question. It occurred to her that Anthony was no longer behind her. He’d been right next to her as they’d entered the keep. She glanced around the small room, but he was nowhere to be found. Lydia stroked Annalee’s hair and gave her a kiss on the forehead.

  “I’ll be right back, sweetie.”

  Lydia found Anthony sitting just outside the door with his head down and his arms folded atop his knees.

  “Hey, Anthony. Are you okay?” she asked even though she knew it was a dumb question.

  Lydia wanted to tell him that Annalee was going to be fine—that she would pull through this—but she couldn’t bring herself to say those words. She longed for it to be so, but Anthony deserved the truth. The harder she tried to come up with something to say that might make him feel better, the more she realized that nothing could do that in this situation. With that understanding, she decided that the best she could do was to let him know that he wasn’t alone.

  “I lost my husband, Lonnie, the night I met Annalee. Like many people, Lonnie and I went to church looking for salvation or maybe an explanation of what was happening during the first days. Annalee was there with her parents. It was more packed than on Christmas day. There wasn’t even any standing room. Someone in the congregation must’ve been infected, because all hell broke loose inside the church. People started screaming and pushing to get away from the evil that had found its way into our place of worship. The preacher, a good man named Reverend Ezzard Mack, tried to maintain order, but it was no use. He must’ve sensed how the situation was going to turn out, because he came down from the pulpit and herded as many parishioners as he could into the little preparatory room near the front of the church. Annalee was among them, but her parents were not,” Lydia said with tears in her eyes. “Anyway, Reverend Mack had this way of speaking that made you think God was talking to you directly. He gave this rousing speech about how we were all going to make it out of there alive, and we believed him—everyone except Lonnie, that is.”

  Lydia paused to wipe the tears from her eyes. Despite her emotional story, her voice remained strong.

  “You see, Lonnie was bitten before we made it to the room. Somehow he knew what that meant for him, even then. Lonnie was always so smart, so observant. He saw what happened to the people who were bitten, but still he refused to give up. He understood that he was going to die, and he sacrificed the remainder of his life so that the rest of us could have a chance to escape. As hard as it was, I watched him charge out the door and into the infected throng. His action is the only reason Annalee and I are alive today. I’m not going to lie and tell you Annalee is going to be fine. The truth is, I don’t know what will happen. What I do know is that even though Annalee is in a bad place, she still has a fighting chance. And she could probably use a guy like you in her corner.”

  Anthony finally looked at her, and she saw something stirring in the depths of his eyes. She wondered if it was a faint glimmer of hope or if that was merely what she wanted to believe. Either way, there was strength in his eyes where there had been none before. He leaned forward and wrapped his arms around her neck. She returned the embrace and felt his tears—warm and wet—on her skin.

  “I’m so sorry, Lydia. Thank you,” Anthony said between sniffles.

  When the two separated, it was with the absolute knowledge that neither one was alone in their pain. While that knowledge could never alleviate the suffering, it went a long way toward making it bearable. Anthony wiped his face with his sleeve before climbing to his feet.

  “If you’ll excuse me, I want to sit with Annalee.”

  Once Anthony was out of sight, the tears Lydia had been struggling to contain finally came to a head. They streamed down her face in thick rivulets before running over her lips, which were arched in a broad, hopeful smile.

  27

  “Go! Go! Go!” Mother shouted over a barrage of machine gun fire.

  He picked his shots carefully, firing controlled bursts that emphasized precision over speed. If the infected had a strong point, it was their relentless durability. They weren’t nearly as fast as their uninfected counterparts, but they weren’t burdened by fear, pain, or fatigue either. LNV infection eliminated such human weaknesses along with all traces of humanity. As far as anyone knew, the infected never stopped as long as there were uninfected people within their grasp. Nothing short of severe damage to the central nervous system could reliably stop a rev. In the case of guns, that meant headshots.

  As soon as they neared the CDC compound, Mother radioed Garza to inform him that they were inbound and to arrange for the gate to be opened upon their arrival. While they would’ve preferred avoidance to directly engaging the infected, Mother knew that if the revs were still clustered around the barricade’s only entrance, that wasn’t going to be an option. Their best chance of getting inside quickly would be to fight straight through what remained of the horde.

  In the usual fashion, Plant and Animal led the charge by carving a path of death through the horde as though they were bushwhacking through the dense rainforest. They’d served as forward scouts for most of the journey, moving well ahead of the rest of the team to ensure that the path was rev free and clear of any obstacles that might prevent passage of the supply cart. When they reached the leading edge of the horde, the pair went right to work; Plant hacked and bludgeoned, while the more nimble Animal parried and slashed. Any rev that came within the duo’s striking range fell victim to their deadly blades. No sooner did one collapse into a lifeless heap than others folded in to take its place. Were it not for the trail of blood and gore, it would’ve been difficult to tell they’d even passed through.

  Mother’s rifle barked four more times, and three of the closest revs dropped to the ground. The infected were so tightly packed and at a close enough range that achieving such accuracy wasn’t difficult. As he acquired his next target, he saw John and Montes emerging from cover.

  John struggled to maintain his footing as he pulled the overloaded cart forward. Between the tall, blood-slick grass and the uneven terrain created by the slain revs’ corpses, it was a slow, laborious process. Montes helped by pushing when he could, but keeping the cart’s contents from being jostled off was nearly a full-time job. At one point after falling to his hands and knees, John considered abandoning the cart in favor of carrying the heavy boxes.

  Montes rushed forward to plunge his combat blade into the eye socket of a rev looking to capitalize on John’s vulnerable position. Kicking the dead thing to the side, he said, “Get up, John. We need to keep going. There’s too much for us to carry, and we won’t be able to fight if our hands are full. The infected would take us down before we were halfway to the gate.”

  On all four in the bloody grass, John felt tired and defeated. Even so, he knew Montes was right. Just as he’d done on countless other occasions when he didn’t think he had the strength to keep going, he thought of Ava. Seconds later, he was doggedly climbing to his feet.

  Reams watched the two men struggling with the load of supplies. He wanted to help, but he didn’t think Cujo would stand much of a chance if he were to leave her side even for a minute. Blank-faced and oblivious to the danger all around her, she didn’t seem to care what became of her. She’d barely uttered a w
ord since learning of Stack’s death, and Reams believed she would’ve stayed right where she’d heard the news if they hadn’t forced her to come along. On more than one occasion, he was certain she would’ve stood idly by as revs tore her apart had he not interceded.

  “Come on, Cujo. It’s our time to move,” Reams said.

  He dragged the bleary-eyed soldier with one hand while firing his suppressed Five-Seven pistol with the other.

  Klink. Klink.

  Every time he heard the muted pop of his handgun, he wanted to thank John’s old friend, Al Forrester, whom he’d never had the chance to meet. Reams doubted that he or John would’ve made through the first week without the weapons and equipment they acquired from Al’s stockpile at the start of the outbreak.

  Klink. Klink. Klink.

  A chunk of flesh and bone hurtled away like a hairy Frisbee as the top of a rev’s head exploded. Even amidst the chaos of fighting, Cujo hardly batted an eyelid.

  * * *

  “Montes! Get down!” Garza cried.

  The Brazilian soldier ducked his head seconds before Garza sent a bullet through the skull of a rev less than two feet behind him. A thick, cool spray of blood pelted the back of Montes’s neck as the rev collapsed against the back of his legs. Despite the disgusting feeling, he shot Garza a look of gratitude.

  Plant and Animal were still engaged in crowd control, thinning the horde with their frenetic version of controlled chaos. Mother and Reams covered John and Montes’s six, being careful not to catch either man in the crossfire. Garza worked to keep John’s path free of infected. Their combined efforts meant that John and Montes only had to stop twice to deal with the infected themselves despite the fact that they were in the middle of a sizable horde.

  “Hurry, guys! You’re almost here!” Garza said from just inside the gate.

  Moments later, John and Montes pulled the cart through the small opening in the gate. Reams, Cujo, and Mother were right behind them. Lastly, like twin tornadoes tearing across the countryside, Plant and Animal converged on the entryway.

  Turning to Garza, Mother said, “Get this gate closed. I’ll cover you.”

  The heavy door groaned as it slid along the tracks before slamming shut with a metallic clang that echoed off the building’s walls. The brief lull in sound that followed was nearly as disconcerting as the sound of the horde itself. Tension charged the air like electricity in a lightning storm as they waited to find out what was going to happen next. Strangely, they seemed to breath a collective sigh of relief when the infected’s incessant banging resumed.

  Walking back from the gate controls, Garza offered a weak smile and said, “Welcome home. I see you come bearing gifts.”

  John slumped next to the utility cart and flashed a weary grin that looked more like a grimace as he squinted into the sun.

  “It’s nothing really. Just a little housewarming gift to help get you through these long apocalyptic winters,” John retorted.

  For what he hoped would be the last time for a while, John climbed back to his feet.

  28

  “Reams, you mind taking over the cart?” John asked flatly.

  “Sure, John.” Reams found it odd that the request wasn’t accompanied by a smart-ass remark about how his size made him much more suited to pulling heavy things, but he chalked it up to John’s fatigue. Before he could inquire as to why, Animal came walking up—her black clothes showing surprisingly little evidence of the destruction she’d dealt to the infected.

  “You okay, Reams?” she asked.

  The big man sighed as he considered how best to respond to Animal’s simple question. Before he could answer, she added, “Where’s he going?

  Reams turned and saw John disappear into the hole blown in Building 18’s southern wall.

  “Not sure. Maybe he has to take a shit or something?” Reams replied.

  Garza ran up next to the pair and yelled, “Hey, John! Wait!”

  “What’s wrong, Garza? You missed him that much?” Reams said with a smirk.

  Without taking his eyes off the opening in the building, Garza said, “I was hoping to tell him about Ava. Lydia didn’t find her. She’s missing.”

  Garza’s words hit Reams harder than a three-punch combination thrown by a heavyweight champion. His chest grew so tight that the simple act of breathing felt like a struggle. He’d come to think of Ava almost like a daughter. Given the intensity of his response, he didn’t want to think about how John was going react to the news that his little girl was missing once again.

  “Dammit. This isn’t going to go well,” Reams said.

  He looked at Animal as if asking permission to go after his friend. She nodded, and said, “Go help him. Plant and I will take care of the supply cart.”

  Reams and Garza clambered over the rubble before disappearing inside Building 18.

  * * *

  John had helped stock the keep with supplies and thus had been there on several occasions. Even though one or more of the soldiers had typically accompanied him, he thought he could find it on his own. He ran carelessly, nearly tripping over the tangles of corpses left by those who’d travelled the path previously. Fortunately, the same people responsible for the snarl of dead bodies that had nearly sent him sprawling to the ground had also cleared out the infected. He barely slowed as he turned into the corridor leading to the keep’s walkway. When he saw the barricade at the beginning of the crosswalk, he put on a burst of speed. Like a parkour runner, he planted his hand atop the obstacle and vaulted over.

  Perhaps because he was expecting the slow advance of the revs or the furtive approach of the attackers, or perhaps because he was exhausted, L.T. didn’t notice John until he was flying over top of him. Just as the lieutenant popped up with his rifle aimed at the man racing past him, his radio crackled to life.

  A very breathless Garza exclaimed, “L.T., this is Garza. Dr. Wild is heading your way. Reams and I are right behind him. Don’t shoot!”

  L.T. let the slack return to his trigger as he eased his finger off. He blew out a tense breath as he considered how close he’d come to shooting one of his own people. A minute later, he heard the heavy footfalls of the two more men coming down the hall.

  So focused on getting to his little girl, John never saw L.T., nor did he realize how close he’d come to being shot in the back. While he knew there hadn’t been many people at the compound at the time of the attack, he was surprised when he saw no one in the keep. A trail of blood on the floor was the only evidence that anyone had even been there recently. Panic’s merciless grip tightened around his throat as he thought about whose blood it might be.

  “Where is everyone?”

  As if in response to his query, he heard the faint clink of glassware somewhere in the depths of the small annex. He tried to slow his thudding heart and ragged breathing as he strained his ears to hear anything that might give him a clue as to Ava’s whereabouts.

  John had hoped to find Ava and the others when he arrived, but instead he found only silence and darkness. There were no lights set up as there were throughout much of Building 18. Unsure of the keep’s layout, he crept forward cautiously. He prayed he would find the others soon, as his nerves were frayed beyond belief. Much to his chagrin, he discovered that the adjacent room was also empty and even darker owing to its interior location. He felt along the wall as he cursed his eyes for taking so long to adjust to the utter blackness. As he did, his hand bumped into the metal frame of a doorway that led him farther into the keep.

  Perhaps because his eyes were growing accustomed to the low light, he was able to make out more details in this room. Thick, dark splotches dotted the floor like oil stains spattered on the light-colored tile. Their density increased until they created a trail that coalesced into an area so black that it looked as though a bottomless pit had opened up in the center of the room. The illusion was only disrupted by the dark shoeprints along its periphery. Whatever had happened, it seemed there had been a great deal of ac
tivity. The footprints were smudged in one area, as if someone had started to clean up only to write it off as a hopeless cause. John stared at the inky mess as he tried to imagine what had taken place. This room, like the last, was deathly quiet.

  “Where are you, Ava?” John mumbled under his breath.

  “John?”

  The voice startled him. John hadn’t seen anyone since he’d arrived at the keep, and he certainly hadn’t noticed anyone in the room. The unexpected sound sent a surge of adrenaline rushing through him, and he wondered yet again just how much more his body could take. He squinted as he peered through the gloom, but still he saw no one. It wasn’t the first time since the start of the outbreak that he thought he might be going insane.

  “John? Is that you?” the voice called, this time slightly louder.

  Having been more prepared for the sound, John was able to get a rough idea as to the location from which it came. He took a tentative step in its direction.

  Lydia sniffled and raised her head toward the man who still hadn’t seen her. Her subtle movement was enough to catch his eye, and he stepped forward more assertively.

  “Lydia? Why are you here alone? Where is everyone? Where’s Ava?” John asked.

  His questions came in rapid-fire succession, leaving no time for an answer. John took in the way Lydia was sitting with her knees clutched to her chest, and he immediately knew something was terribly wrong. A thousand possibilities raced through his mind, and he was afraid to question her further for fear of her reply. Even in the dim light, the hollow, empty look on her face was plain to see. The expression was the antithesis of her usually warm, confident, and indomitable spirit. Lydia looked miserable, and that worried him.

  A burgeoning look of concern quickly replaced the confusion John’s face had held when he’d first seen her. It seemed to grow with every passing second that he didn’t know his daughter’s whereabouts. His Adam’s apple bobbed up and down several times as he tried to make his throat cooperate with his desire to speak. After several swallows, his voice came out—dry and scratchy.