“Are you alright?” Amanda asks as she helps brush him off.
“Yeah, the ankle is still just a little tender,” Brad groans in pain.
“Are you sure you can make it up that ladder?” Amanda asks.
“Yeah, it just might take me a while,” Brad says gripping the ladder and pulling himself up slowly.
Amanda waits, watching as Brad’s muscles flex each time he pulls himself up to the next rung. She lets out a short exasperated gasp of breath before she clings onto the ladder and follows him to the roof. He waits for his new companion to join him on the rooftop before he slides the ladder back up securing that they would remain alone on the rooftop. Amanda turns and sees a small garden flourishing, the leaves of many of the fruits and vegetables glistening in the moonlight.
“This is amazing,” Amanda gushes, “did you do all this?”
“ME?” Brad asks pointing at himself and chuckling, “Nah I don’t have this kind of skill. This was actually Justin’s idea, that guy you met downstairs. He just uses me to check on them and bring down whatever’s ripe.”
“Why do you listen to him?” Amanda questions, “I mean you could probably rip him in half.”
“Yeah, but then I wouldn’t be able to enjoy the free time I have up here,” Brad says gesturing to the view.
Amanda looks around unimpressed until she turns and sees the back lot. Beyond the old stone wall is a small hill, the road leading to the highway on the right, but on the other side there is a small running stream a small sapling growing not far from the shore.
“Wow,” Amanda murmurs.
“Yeah,” Brad says, “plus the roof is a great place for target practice.”
“Wait, what?”
“Yeah, sometimes when I come up here I scan the area and shoot anything that looks dead. I kind of make a game out of it. Keeps me sharp, ya know? That’s how I saw you guys. I was up here having some fun re-killing stuff.”
“Well, all I know is I’m thankful you were there to rescue us,” Amanda says giving him a quick kiss on the cheek.
“See things always work out when you stop thinking about it and just act,” Brad smirks.
“Yeah, something like that,” Amanda laughs. “But we should probably hurry up so I can check on my friends.”
“Oh, ok, just give me a few minutes to check on the garden,” Brad says rapidly shaking his head and rushing over to the closest sprout.
They hurry down and Brad gives the same knock he gave last time, the same man opens the door as before. He gives Brad a disapproving look before glancing over at Amanda beside him. The pair walk in; the solid gray door closing tight behind them. The small man gestures for Brad to slide a solid block of wood across the door which he does without argument. Amanda glances across the whole building, the inside has been gutted leaving the inside wide open, only a few manual machines stand lined up across the front. There are a dozen cots placed randomly throughout, providing a fair amount of personal space between them. Against the back wall Amanda can see Fanny laying still, Hope standing over her, her arms crossed with her index finger placed inside her mouth a look of defeat and regret on her face. Mika and The Major are standing on the other side of the gym talking angrily to each other, The Major’s hands are flailing wildly with each word. Justin walks slowly away from the door his right hand brushing through the little hair he has on the sides of his head. He is greeted by a short stout woman. The woman’s face is wrinkled almost to the point of making her look like a mole. Her hair is stringy and gray with a pink bow sticking out of the left side of her head. She is wearing an oversized pink sweatshirt with multiple cuts and rips throughout. She flashes her yellow stained teeth as she gives a rat like smile to Amanda.
“Who’s that?” Amanda asks whispering to Brad.
“That’s Cynthia,” Brad responds. “She’s Justin’s mother and really irritable. Just try to avoid her if you can.”
“Has anyone seen my glasses,” Cynthia asks in a shrill voice.
“Ugh,” Justin groans gripping his fists tightly before he puts on a fake smile and turns toward his mother.
He reaches into the pocket of her sweatshirt and pulls her thin, wire glasses out and lays them on her face before rolling his eyes and walking away angrily. Amanda shakes her head disgusted. Brad walks off to the corner, unlocking a set of black steel doors with the words “Authorized Personal Only” hand written in a dull red paint each of the letters dripping sloppily. Curiosity peaks her interest causing her to try to take a peek inside only to have Hope notice her and gesture for Amanda to come and join her. Her interest in the closet returns when she hears the doors close shut. She lets out an upset grunt before shuffling over to Hope, her feet dragging underneath her.
“Hey,” Hope says with a weary smile.
“Hey,” Amanda replies, “how’s Fanny doing?”
“Good,” Hope says nodding her head unintentionally, “I think she’ll be awake soon. I saw her eye lids flutter a little while ago so, yeah, I think she’ll be up and ready soon.”
“That’s good,” Amanda says her eyes more focused on the door then her friends.
“Amanda?” Hope calls out trying to regain her focus, “AMANDA?!” she calls again this time louder and more forceful finally snapping her out of her delusion. “Are you ok?”
“Yeah, sorry I just got lost in my own world,” Amanda says with a nervous chuckle.
“Yeah I get that,” Hope says stroking Fanny’s hand, “part of that’s our fault. If we never came here, if we never came into your bunker…”
“…Then something else would have forced us out of that god forsaken bunker,” Amanda says cutting her off. “We lived in a fantasy world thinking that we’d be safe down there forever. The truth is I think the bunker was doing more harm and damage to us than those Zombies ever could.”
“I know what you mean. I grew up on an island, secluded from the rest of the world,” Hope sighs, “from the day I was born all I could ever remember was everyone on the island praised me, calling me some sort of messiah. I never asked for that, I never asked to be treated like the survival of the human race rested on my shoulders.” Her face is red, her cheeks almost glowing.
“I’m sorry,” Amanda says, her voice in almost a whisper. She stands still beside her, unsure of what to do next.
“Don’t be,” Hope says blowing away the anger, her cheeks finally returning to her normal color. “That’s actually the reason I volunteered to come out here. I wanted to figure out who I am and where I belong.”
“What have you figured out so far?”
“Honestly?” Hope asks, “Nothing. All I know for sure is I want to live. But the new question I have to ask myself is what am I living for?”
Fanny groans in her sleep, her eyes are forced closed with a look of pain on her face. She cries out again in a high pitched whine that drops Hope to her knees gripping her friend’s hand trying her best to comfort her until she stops writhing in pain.
“This,” Amanda says resting her hand on her shoulder, “this is what you have to live for. For friends and others who depend on you. That’s why any of us live.”
“Yeah. I guess I just never really thought of it like that,” Hope says with a smile.
Fanny wriggles again groaning repeatedly until her eyes open wide, gasping as she jolts upward into a seating position.
“Where am I?” Fanny asks in a panic, her head turning from side to side her eyes wide as she searches for something, “that thing, that monster.” Her hands shake violently as she struggles to catch her breath.
“Fanny, Fanny relax,” Hope says holding her close her free hand stroking the back of her hair, “there is nothing to worry about anymore. Brad took care of that thing out there.”
“Where are we?” Fanny asks pushing herself away, revealing her red puffy eyes.
“This is the safe house Brad was telling us about,” Amanda says, “turns out it is just a boarded up gym.”
“Are we safe?” Fan
ny asks.
“Yeah, it seems like it’s pretty well protected,” Amanda nods.
“Is there anything we can get for you?” Hope asks sitting beside her.
“Water, please,” Fanny says, clearing her throat. “I feel like I haven’t had anything to drink in years.”
“HEY GUYS,” Hope yells grabbing the attention of the rest of the gym, “FANNY’S AWAKE AND SHE NEEDS WATER. Please, we need water!”
Chapter 13
Fanny chugs the whole bottle of water, gasping and panting as sips run down the side of her mouth. She pulls the bottle away and wipes her mouth off with her hand. She looks around, a slight feeling of claustrophobia as she notices everyone around her.
“What?” she asks after a moment of silent stares.
“How are you feeling?” Mika ask wiping off some dry blood that was resting just below her hairline.
“I’m fine,” She replies swatting his hand away and getting to her feet, wobbling a bit as she does.
“Are you sure your fine?” Hope asks, “You can barely stand up without almost falling over.”
“I’ve survived worse,” Fanny whimpers wiping extra blood away.
“Please you have to relax,” Hope begs, “and we have to take care of those cuts and bruises.”
“I might have something for that,” Cynthia says in her raspy voice, a crooked smile showing her yellow stained teeth.
“What do you mean?” The Major asks befuddled.
“Before the Zombie uprising I worked as a pharmacologist for a small independent company. We specialized in making cheap, organic medicine that would be affordable for the average person,” She says between coughs as she totters across the floor to a wooden cabinet screwed into the wall. She pulls the handles open revealing dozens of glass jars each one with a strip of medical tape across it and incomprehensible words written in green marker. She shuffles through the bottles before pulling out ones she needs. I knew that our medicine would only last so long, and I knew that I would have to put my skills to good use. So I had those who were planting the garden on the roof throw in some herbs and plants that I could use to make certain medicines and low grade antibiotics.” She sits down on the cot and gestures for Fanny to join her. Fanny reluctantly agrees, with a little prodding from Hope. Cynthia twists open the first jar releasing a foul stench. She runs her finger through the goop pulling out a small dollop of the light green salve.
“Oh, that smells horrible,” Fanny says, with a whimper as Cynthia applies the medication.
“It’s not about the smell, it’s about the effect,” Cynthia reminds harshly, pushing her finger harder against the open wound.
“What is that?” Amanda asks blocking her nose and taking a few steps back trying to escape the smell.
“It’s a mixture of a few things, the main ingredient though is the seeds of a plant called the ‘great burdock.’ That’s what gives it its green coloring and… unforgettable smell,” Cynthia explains before pulling her finger away and wiping it off on the cot. “Now don’t go wiping that off. I know it smells, and possibly burns slightly but I don’t have enough of this for you to just go and waste it, so deal with it.”
Cynthia gets back up, her old legs shaking underneath her as she tries to find her balance. She hobbles back over to the cabinet and puts the jar back. The others are each trying to be polite, doing their best to ignore the smell.
“Ugh,” Fanny groans again, “this is so gross!”
“Yeah but it’s better than dying of an infection,” Mika coughs.
“Here,” Cynthia says, holding out another small jar full of a dark red liquid. Fanny takes it tentatively, and slowly begins screwing off the lid. She swirls the fluid around, the sweet smell wafts out of the jar sneaking past the putrid smell of the cream. “Drink it.”
“What?” Fanny asks taken aback.
“Drink it. It will help,” Cynthia says with a sly smile.
Fanny holds the rim of the jar up to her lips and sips the liquid slowly. She coughs violently patting her chest as a burning feeling works its way down her insides.
“What is that?” She asks handing the jar back to Cynthia.
“My own kind of booze,” Cynthia says taking a swig from the jar before screwing the top back on. “Thought you could use a drink after everything you’ve been through.”
“It’s kind of strong,” Fanny says before coughing again, her hand resting on her chest.
“Yeah it is not very subtle, but it does the trick,” She cackles before popping the top off and takin a swig herself.
“How did you acquire all this stuff?” Mika asks glaring at the red liquid.
“Time and dedication,” Cynthia responds, teasing him with the jar before taking a second sip, “but mostly time.”
“The gym supplied us with water,” Justin says speaking freely and stepping away. He tries to fix his glasses but they slide slightly to the left as soon as he takes a step. “There were bottles everywhere. Stuffed to capacity in most of the storage and back room, several in the cooler behind the counter and so forth. There was also an ample supply of protein powder that held us over until we were able to scavenge for more food.”
“We also started a garden on the roof,” Brad chimes in, still as chipper as ever.
“Yes, it started as a means to help me keep up with herbs and eventually grew into several different fruits and vegetables,” Cynthia adds.
“We’ve also built up a collection of things we’ve taken from stray wanderers,” Justin says, his glasses almost reflecting the candle light in dark, evil way.
“What are you saying?” Hope asks.
“Were you planning on taking the few weapons and supplies we have?” The Major asks angrily.
“No,” Cynthia says after giving her son an upset look, “we only take from those that don’t survive. It’s very trying here; many get saved by us and ask for protection thinking this is a haven of some sorts. They don’t realize all the hard work and effort that it took for us to live like this. To survive as long as we have. For us this isn’t just dumb luck or some nuclear bomb site developed by the former government who only meant to help and protect their own.” Cynthia trails off after her rant.
“That’s fine,” Fanny says scooting to the bottom of her cot, “we won’t be staying long.”
“Fanny, you need to heal,” Hope says getting in front of her friend.
“I’m fine,” Fanny groans trying to mask the pain as it radiates throughout her body.
“Don’t be a stupid child,” Cynthia says harshly, “lay back down and rest, let the wounds heal.”
“I doubt I’d be able to sleep with the crud on my face,” Fanny mutters under his breath.
“You won’t know until you try,” Hope says, forcing her to lie down on the cot.
Fanny mumbles under her breath as the others leave her to rest. Hope keeps an eye on her, watching as she tosses and slides around uncomfortable.
“You worry about your friend a lot, don’t you?” Cynthia asks breaking Hope’s fixed concentration.
“Yeah,” Hope answers softly.
“It’s a hard thing,” Cynthia says.
“What is?” Hope asks confused.
“Dealing with the thoughts of losing someone. You look like you’re two young to remember what life was like before the end,” Cynthia says as she runs her frail, wrinkled fingers around her neck revealing a thin golden chain.
“I’m only sixteen,” Hope admits, “I was born after all this. But I was sheltered, born on an island of survivors.”
At the end of the chain there is a small, silver tarnished heart shaped locket. She fingers it as she listens to Hope talk. When she finishes she opens it revealing a picture of her younger self on the left side and an unknown man on the right. The man looks almost like Justin, with the exception of the full head of hair and a more spirited smile.
“Who’s that?” Hope asks.
“That is my late husband Wesley,” Cynthia says with a re
miniscing smile, “I lost him almost three years before the Armageddon hit us. He was my life force for so long, my high school sweet heart and my first love. After he died I thought I’d never be able to move on.”
“What does that have to do with me?” Hope asks.
“I’ve been watching you with your loud, obnoxious friend over there,” Cynthia replies.
“What about her?” Hope asks becoming frustrated.
“You have to be prepared for the day when you might lose her,” Cynthia says before staring at her husband’s photo again. “It’s hard. People used to say it gets easier with time, but it doesn’t. That pain is always there. Always rearing its head at inopportune times.”
“Then what do you do?”
“You live. With each person lost its best to remember that you have two options. The first is the easier of the two, you could do nothing and let the pain and guilt eat at you until you become old and bitter,” Cynthia’s voice fades away.
“And the second choice?”
“I already told you, live,” Cynthia smiles.
Hope glances over at her friend, still lying restless on the cot. A stiff feeling of sadness builds up in her stomach, like a punch of reality knocking the wind out of her. She looks back at Cynthia hoping to rid herself of the pain she is feeling.
“Can I ask,” Hope starts her voice trembling slightly, “How did Wesley die?”
“Heart attack,” Cynthia says solemnly, her hand creeping across her chest as she speaks. “It was sudden, in fact it was a shock because he always took such good care of himself. He woke up, did his morning routine but never made it out the door. Justin is actually the one who found him that morning, woke me up with such an ear shattering screech.”
“I’m sorry,” Hope mumbles.
“Don’t be,” Cynthia says reaching for the jar of red liquid, swishing it around a few times before removing the top and taking a few sips.
“Excuse me,” Mika says after clearing his throat, “but is there any way I could take a sip of that?”
Omega Virus (Book 2): Revisited Page 13
