Razor Girl

by Marianne Mancusi

  It took her ten minutes to reach Monroeville’s center, and what she saw was another story altogether from what she’d believed. Sirens screamed, and scattered small fires flickered up and down the street. Men and women ran by, some wearing all black, some wearing masks, others in respirators, but all had their arms full of supplies from stores that had closed and barred their windows and doors. Only the Wal-Mart was still open, actually doing business. But unlike the old friendly Wal-Mart greeters that used to line the store entrance, now the place was heavily guarded by what appeared to be soldiers. There were trucks coming and going behind it, too.

  The sound of what might have been a car backfiring, but was probably a bullet, rang in Molly’s ears and she started worrying again about the monsters, the “Others” as her father called them. What would she do if she ran into one on her way to meeting the group at the school? She didn’t have any weapon. What, was she going to karate-chop them to death? Her dad had been right; martial arts training wasn’t exactly going to cut it.

  But it was too late to turn back. She stole through the streets, avoiding both broken glass from the store fronts and a line of corpses littering the pavement. A terrible smell was coming from somewhere, and it was overwhelming. Apparently there was no one left to clean up.

  She got to the darkened high school at last. At first she wasn’t sure anyone would be meeting her, but then a flash of light flickered on and off. The signal. She followed it and soon came to a side door that had been propped open. Slipping inside, she realized she’d entered the auditorium.

  “You’re the last,” said a deep male voice. “Go ahead and shut the door behind you.”

  She complied, walking into a circle of light. The school had obviously kept its power somehow. But this group was being cautious all the same. Didn’t want to attract the crazies. And that meant most everyone these days.

  The stage held a strange assortment of her former classmates. The head cheerleader sat next to the biggest stoner. The math geek was next to the quarterback. Terror had made everyone equal. Go figure, it took the apocalypse to break down high school cliques.

  Chris sat leaning against a wall. He beckoned her over. She complied and took a seat next to him, smiling weakly as she sat. He reached over and squeezed her hand, sending a now familiar tingle of electricity through her. He was so sweet. If only she’d discovered it earlier, when life was still innocent and normal and there weren’t monsters wandering the streets.

  “Okay, this meeting will come to order,” announced a black-haired boy at the front. Molly recognized him as Chris’s brother Trey. He rose to his feet and started pacing the stage. All eyes were on him. He swaggered like a born leader, which was funny, because mostly what Molly knew of him was his high virtual football scores, and his penchant for both blonde cheerleaders and porn sims. Of course, he had made the plan to stockpile supplies out of town. Standing there, he looked large and in charge, and he commanded everyone’s respect. Guess everyone had to grow up fast these days. She was glad he was around.

  “I’m glad all of you could make it to night,” Trey said. “I know it’s hard to get out of the house, and certainly it’s no picnic to cross town.”

  A few murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd. Molly wondered what her dad would say if he knew she was here. He’d totally kill her. Maybe he’d lock her behind those titanium shelter doors he was always going on about.

  “Armageddon, the End of Days, the Super Flu, the apocalypse. Whatever you want to call it, it’s here,” continued Trey. “Our friends and family are dying.”

  Molly glanced over at Chris, who was staring at his feet. His and Trey’s parents had left for the quarantine camp outside Monroeville two days ago, after making the boys promise to take care of Tara and not follow them there. After all, no one who entered the quarantine camp ever left alive.

  “The government can’t control it, no matter what their stupid propaganda says. It’s out of control. I know a lot of you were at the party the other night. You saw the…creatures, our former friends and neighbors turned into monsters. You know what’s going on. And you know it’s only going to get worse.” He walked to the end of the stage then turned to face them. “We have to get out of town. Soon. Before it’s too late.”

  “But where?” asked a blond boy in cut-off jeans who looked about fourteen. “They say it’s everywhere. How are we going to escape?”

  “Yeah, what makes you think we won’t get the flu?” asked another.

  Molly stood up. “Because we haven’t been vaccinated,” she told them. “It’s the AIDS vaccine that’s made people vulnerable. If you haven’t gotten that shot then you’re safe—at least from the sickness. It’s the zombies that we have to worry about. If one bites you and you live, you can become one of them.”

  Several classmates shuddered, probably having been at the rave and having seen the monsters in action. She didn’t blame them. Not a night went by anymore where she didn’t have a nightmare herself.

  “Molly’s right,” Trey said. “And we don’t have to sit around and wait to be turned into mutants. We can leave. If we work together.” He pulled out a holo-pen and pressed a button. A map of South Carolina burst to life into the center of the stage. “As a lot of you know, having helped, we’ve already gathered a bunch of supplies. In the next twenty-four hours, I want everyone to go home and pack suitcases. Be selective. We can’t take everything. Think about what you’d need to go camping. No prom dresses,” he said, looking knowingly at a group of girls to his right. “We will all rendezvous in the back parking lot. I’ll have a van. We’ll head up to the mountains. My parents have a camp up there, which is always empty this time of year. It’s on a lake and very secluded. We’ll live there until things calm down. There’s plenty of wild animals and fish if we run out of packed food. We could live there a long time. Until things calm down and the government gets everything back in control. I’ll bring a media deck so we can stay updated as to what’s going on.”

  “Do you really think that will happen?” Chris’s friend Stephen interjected. “I mean, what if all the adults die? What if there’s nothing left to come back to?”

  A good question, Molly thought as she looked around the room. And it was one, it seemed, that no one there had an answer to.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  The next few days were so busy they went by like a blur for Chase: traveling for ten hours, setting up camp, taking care of the horses. Making love to Molly whenever it was possible, sometimes under the stars, sometimes in a motel bed. Helga had proved an invaluable asset, and Chase was thankful Molly had agreed to take her along.

  It was funny. Here they were, traveling a post apocalyptic highway with only a small shred of hope there would be something worthwhile at the end, but still, Chase had never felt happier. To ride beside Molly and talk to her about everything and anything. To feel her body under his at night. This was better than anything else he could imagine. He wanted this closeness to last forever. And luckily, she seemed to want it, too.

  They were so close now. He could almost taste the Florida oranges. He couldn’t wait to see what they’d find at the end. Molly was so sure. She expected a new civilization, a rebirth of the world. It seemed hard to credit as they passed empty town after empty town, but he believed because she did. He believed because he wanted to.

  He imagined them reaching their destination, finding a friendly home base again. Where the children could feel safe. Where he and Molly could live like husband and wife. Maybe there would even be a priest down there, someone who could marry them officially.

  To have Molly as his bride—well, he couldn’t think of anything he wanted more.

  But thoughts of the future had to wait. Tonight he was on guard duty. The rest of the camp was sound asleep. Molly was curled up next to him after an intense session of lovemaking, dead to the world. He kissed her lightly on her forehead, so as not to wake her, and crawled out from under the covers, yanking his leather pants ov
er his hips and grabbing his shirt.

  Time to patrol.

  It seemed almost a waste of time in some ways. They hadn’t seen any Others in days, and even then the beasts had never attacked. They hadn’t had much problem the whole trip. He wondered if the zombie curse hadn’t hit southern Georgia. Or maybe the scouts of Paradise had collected them all for their gladiator games. Regardless, Molly insisted they stay watchful. Chase had to agree.

  He wandered the perimeter of the motel they’d chosen, kicking rocks as he went. He tried to imagine the place before the plague. What kind of people had stayed here. Families on their way to the Magic Kingdom? Traveling salesmen without a lot of cash? Maybe a few cheating husbands and their sleazy girlfriends, never knowing, as they enjoyed their dangerous liaisons, that soon infidelity would be the least of their problems.

  A sudden noise came from the bushes. Startled, he backed up, only to hit a wall that served to separate the motel from the former pool area. He reached for a rifle he’d brought out of Paradise—a lucky find when he’d stolen the scooter—praying he was wrong and it was just a raccoon or maybe one of the children up to go to the bathroom.

  But it was no raccoon. And it was no sleepy child. Instead, a small Other wandered into the parking lot. A female, by the looks of it. Remnants of stringy blonde hair hung off her head and what was once a flower-patterned dress clung to her emaciated frame.

  The woman let out a muffled moan, hairless, bony arms outstretched like something from an old George Romero movie. But this was no film set. The world had become a true horror flick, and Chase was one of its stars. He was the one who’d done the drugs, had sex with the girl and uttered the words, “I’ll be right back.” In other words, he was the one who was about to wind up dead.

  He blew out a breath and steadied his gun, eyes narrowing to slits. Steady as she goes, he told himself. This was a matter of protecting his family: both what was left of it and what he’d rebuilt.

  In an instant it happened. The creature lurched forward and Chase fell back a step, squeezing the trigger. The rifle’s recoil bruised his shoulder. Blood gouted from the woman’s chest. He’d missed the heart and it was only a flesh wound. She was still coming. And two other shadows had appeared behind her. Three…no, four? How much ammunition was left in his gun?

  He fired again at the Other, twice more, and her head exploded in a mass of red and grey pulp. At the same time he reached around his neck and pulled free his whistle. He blew as hard as he could. Sure enough, the shadows that had risen behind the first Other stopped moving. There came a cacophony of inhuman screeches and then the shadows dissipated. The creatures had turned and fled, hands over their ears.

  Chase watched them go, breathing heavily. The whistle fell from his bloodless lips. “Yeah, I thought so,” he said, shaking out his arms and trying to regain some composure. “I thought so! Run, cowards!” He nodded to himself and stepped out from the shadows.

  Only to find himself thrown backwards.

  He crashed hard onto the asphalt of the street, the impact knocking the breath from his lungs. His vision blurred and, for a moment, nothing made any sense. Then he looked up and saw what had struck him. An Other towered above, clearly not scared away by his whistle. It was growling and spitting.

  It was a huge male, and it lunged forward, hands finding Chase’s neck, encircling and squeezing tight, cutting off his breath. Desperate, Chase kicked out and slammed his foot into the creature’s groin. The monster bellowed but didn’t let go. Chase struggled harder, panic slamming through him as he used one arm to brace himself, fighting to keep away from the monster’s mouth. He reached for his boot with his free hand, feeling for the knife he always kept there. It took what seemed like forever to wrap his fingers around the hilt. The creature’s grip tightened, and Chase saw blackness swimming toward him. Pain seared through his shoulder. Then, in his final moment of consciousness, he managed to yank the knife free and drive it into the creature’s heart.

  The zombie recoiled then fell on top of him, crushing Chase with his weight. But the fingers loosened and Chase was able to breathe. He sucked in a huge breath and pushed the creature off. It rolled back onto the pavement, staring up at the sky and whimpering.

  Chase surged to his feet and stared down at the monster. It looked a lot more human lying there now, vulnerable and bleeding. This was something he always hated. He wondered who it had been before the change. A doctor? A lawyer? Maybe a humanitarian who built houses for poor people.

  It didn’t matter. It was none of those things now, he reminded himself. Just a monster. A monster that needed to be put out of its misery.

  He grabbed his rifle and pressed the barrel to the zombie’s head. Closing his eyes, he pulled the trigger. The shot shook his arm and echoed in his ears. He let the sound fade away before looking. The body was twitching, the head disintegrated.

  He forced himself to look away but as he did a piercing pain found his right shoulder. Startled, he glanced down, his mouth falling open as he saw where his leather jacket had come open, where the shirt below was ripped and bloody. Teeth marks. He’d been bitten. He’d been bitten.

  “Chase! Chase, are you okay?”

  He looked up. Molly. She was running toward him, her face white.

  “Chase?”

  “I’m okay,” he said, turning at an angle so she couldn’t see his wound. “I got him.”

  She stopped a few feet away, looking down at the remains of the two dead zombies. “God, what happened?” she asked.

  “One got the jump on me. No big deal. It’s all fine,” he lied. The pain gripped his shoulder like a vise and it was all he could do not to fall to his knees. But if he fell, she’d know. He couldn’t let her know.

  She took a step forward but he held out a hand. “I’m all slimy,” he said. “Zombie gook. You know. I’m going to go find a fountain or something to wash off.”

  “Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked, peering at him, confusion and worry warring on her face.

  He felt sick to his stomach but nodded. The last thing he wanted was to lie to her. But what choice did he have? He had to think of Molly and the kids. She was too weak to get where she needed to go on her own now. Wonderful Molly. Tough Molly. His beloved. She needed his help to find her father. To complete her pilgrimage. To save the world. And who knew how her priorities would change once she learned the truth?

  Well, he probably had two weeks. Two weeks before the virus would work its way fully through his system, mutating his cells, destroying his brain and turning him into one of them. That was what he’d seen in the past. He had two weeks to get Molly where she had to go. Then he’d use his rifle one last time—to put a bullet in his own head. He couldn’t trust anyone else to do it.

  “Go back to sleep,” he told her. “I’m just going to do one more round of checks.”

  “I’m coming with you.” She was stubborn to the end.

  He sighed. “Okay. But go put on your leather first. It’s too dangerous to be out here in that flimsy nightgown.”

  She nodded and headed back to the camp. Chase looked at his bite. It was ugly and already growing yellow. Maybe he was immune, he reminded himself. His brother had been, after all. But maybe he wasn’t. There was no way he could tell.

  He felt tears slipping from his eyes and brushed them angrily away. God, Chase, be a man! he scolded himself. But he couldn’t help it. There was a time, even recently, that he wouldn’t have cared much about death. In fact, he might have even welcomed it. But now, for the first time in forever, he had a real reason to live. Just figured, this was the time the Grim Reaper finally showed up.

  Molly. He ached as he thought of her. Her smile. Her soft skin brushing against his. Her sweet taste. Her soft moans as he pleasured her. She was so beautiful. So precious and perfect. She’d brought him back from the darkness, showed him there could be life in a dead world. Gave him a reason to exist. To hope and pray and struggle.

  He loved her. So much m
ore than anything. He wanted to be with her forever. To marry her and have babies and grow old by her side. He wanted to spend a lifetime taking care of her, making sure she had everything she needed. But now he couldn’t. Until he was sure he wasn’t infected, he’d have to stay away from her. No more kissing. No more snuggling. No more making love. Tonight had been the last time.

  She wouldn’t understand. And he couldn’t tell her the truth because she’d insist on quarantine. She’d want to stop and care for him until they knew what was going on, and there wasn’t time for that. She was already getting weaker; he’d noticed it in the mornings. It took her longer to get up. She was stiff. She had headaches. He’d noticed, even though she’d taken great pains to hide them from him. He wasn’t going to allow her to endanger her own life for the sake of his.

  No, he had to play it safe. And that wasn’t going to be easy. It involved pushing her away but not letting her know why. It would be the hardest thing he’d ever done, he realized. But it was the only way. Better to make her hate him than allow her to sacrifice herself for him. She’d already done too much of that, and he hated himself for her sacrifices. It was his time to be a man. He would save her, even if it meant his own death. She was worth it. Hell, she was worth a lot more.