by JE Gurley
Erin shook her head and sighed. Dale Cuthbert had been smoking twice as many cigarettes since their harrowing escape from the lab, while Kevin Houseman hardly smoked at all. It seemed Houseman merely wanted a reason to complain. “With all that’s going on, you would think arguing about cigarettes would be low on the list.”
“It’s the boredom,” Susan said. “It’s beautiful up here and all, but I’m bored too. I miss my work.”
Erin said nothing as Susan turned and walked back toward the cabin. She felt as if she had let them all down by her actions. They had been no nearer to developing a new vaccine than before, but now they had no chance at all unless they got back into the lab soon. If the coolers still functioned, they had enough immune serum to keep working for a while. If the zombies had left it and that was a big if. She raised the binoculars and looked down the trail again. She hoped Samuels and the others were safe. Too chilled to keep vigil, she went back inside to warm.
The tension in the room was palpable. Cuthbert sat in one corner by the fireplace smoking, while Houseman stared at him from across the room. The others were in the single large bedroom or trying to ignore the two combatants. Susan was sitting in a rocker reading a magazine. She glanced up as Erin entered, and then returned her gaze to the page she was reading for the fourth or fifth time.
Cuthbert noticed her enter as well. “Where’s Samuels?” he asked. His manner was brusque and impatient and rubbed her the wrong way.
“They’re on their way back.”
He took a puff on his cigarette and exhaled a huge cloud of smoke across the room towards Houseman. “Good. I’m sick and tired of this damn place. I want to get back to the labs and do some work.” He twiddled the cigarette in his long fingers, knocking ashes to the floor.
Erin nodded, deciding it would be best to try to placate Cuthbert, than let her own unease raise tensions more than they were. “If the zombies are gone, maybe we can.”
“Damn the zombies!” he yelled, leaping up from his spot and crossing the room. “We’ve got guns. Shoot them.”
So much for easing tensions. “Can you shoot?” she asked.
Cuthbert averted his eyes. “Well, no, I . . .”
“Then it’s Samuels you need to speak to, not me,” she growled at him as she pushed past him and went to stand by the fire. “He and his men are placing themselves in enough danger just to go back for supplies for us. They might not care to risk their lives so we can resume our work. I’m not sure we can even keep the labs powered to work.”
Cuthbert was not satisfied with her answer, but her abrupt manner silenced him. He returned to his place in the corner and leaned closer to the fire to warm his hands. With a raging fire in the fireplace, the room was too warm for Erin’s taste. She removed her uncomfortably heavy coat and hung it on the rack by the door. She now wore only the undershirt, sweater and jeans she had worn since their escape. She badly wanted a bath, but the cabin provided no privacy and there was no way to heat sufficient water in the two small pots they had for cooking. They all needed a bath. The room reeked of body odor, tobacco smoke, wood smoke and the aroma of their last meal, a curried stew made from canned beef. Living in such close quarters was taking its toll on all of them. She worried that remaining there for months would create frictions that could not be resolved. She hoped Samuels had good news.
Two hours later, he and his men arrived, each weighed down by large backpacks and bags slung over their shoulders. Samuels took one look around the room, judged the tensions and with a smile, said, “I come bearing gifts.”
His attempt at humor did not produce any smiles, but they all looked at him expectantly. Cuthbert’s eyes widened when Samuels tossed three cartons of cigarettes on the table. Considering that neither Samuels nor his men smoked, it was a kind gesture. Among the other supplies, were canned and packaged foods, two rifles with extra ammunition, books and magazines, and a third large stock pot. When he drew a bottle of shampoo and bars of soap from one of the bags, he held them up and said, “Some of us could use a bath.”
“Me! Me!” Susan screamed and grabbed the bottle of shampoo from Samuels’ hand, giggling with delight.
“I’ll heat some water,” Samuels volunteered. “We can use the bedroom for privacy.”
Erin spoke up. “I’ll take second spot. You men can figure it out among yourselves.” She pulled Samuels aside. He motioned for one of his men to fill pots with water from melted snow and followed her outside. Without her coat, the chill quickly penetrated her sweater and shirt, but she ignored the cold. “How was it down there?”
Samuels’ face clouded. “Bad. The sound of the ski lift drew some of the creatures in our direction. They were waiting for us. We had to shoot our way in. We grabbed what we could and left. They chased us up the side of the mountain as we were leaving, running underneath the lift as far as they could. This might be our last load.”
His news was bad in view of the rising tensions among the group. “Don’t tell the others yet. Give them time to adjust.”
“Later,” he said, “I’m not sure when, but we’ll take another look. When they’ve finished the bodies and started eating each other, their numbers may thin out.”
Erin winced as she thought of the deaths that she had caused by her actions among both the prisoners and the military personnel. “Is the lab still salvageable?”
“For now, but the zombies are inside. I could hear glass breaking upstairs while we ransacked the kitchen. I don’t know what it might look like by the time we go back.”
She grasped at his last sentence with hope. “We are going back?” she asked.
Samuels smiled. “I like it up here, hell, I grew up here, but we still have a job to do. We still need a vaccine. We’ll just have to change the way we do it. I seem to be immune. You can use my blood. Just leave me enough to keep me warm.”
She returned his smile. Susan was right. His mood had changed over the past week. The responsibility of managing a rag-tag bunch of survivors was an easier burden to bear than the secrets his honor had forced him to keep. However, she still harbored reservations about him, along with a little resentment. When the security guard had caught her at the warehouse and brought her to Samuels, he had accused her of not confiding in him, while he had done the exact same thing. However, no matter how much he disliked it, he would always do what he thought best, regardless of the outcome on those around him.
Though it seemed so far in the past as to be a dream, she had once been like that, dedicated to her job to the detriment of her social life. Learning about the horrors of the Judgment Day Protocol had changed that. Now, her loyalties extended only so far as her team.
She did notice one thing he said. “You grew up here?”
“Yeah, my uncle owned the ski resort – The Pines. It was really something back in its day. It sat empty for several years after he died. I saw something interesting while I was down there,” he said. He stared down the side of the mountain as if he could see the base.
“Oh? What?”
“A few of the zombies, one or two, were different than the rest. They seemed more cunning, using force to form some kind of hunting pack. It wasn’t communication, at least not intelligent communication, just grunts and growls. It was like a wolf pack leader, creating a harem and keeping lesser males in place through intimidation.”
This bit of information shocked Erin. “A harem? You mean sex?”
He nodded. “Yes, I mean sex.”
Erin remembered the male she had seen caged separately. “An Alpha male and his harem.” It made sense, except she had not considered the zombies capable of that much organization. If true and it were widespread, it spelled disaster for mankind.
He stared at her in surprise. “Yes, an Alpha male. You’ve seen one?”
“In the warehouse. He was studying his surroundings as if trying to find a way to escape. Of course, you realize that this changes things. We are not dealing with an animal. They are smarter than animals and more dea
dly. If they are capable of procreation . . .”
Samuels had been holding a cloth wrapped bundle. “There’s another matter I thought I should bring to your attention.” He unwrapped the bundle and held its contents in his outstretched hands. When she saw the severed arm, Erin stepped back a few paces in disgust.
“What is that?”
“A zombie’s arm. Take a closer look.”
Something in Samuels’ voice intrigued. He would not have brought an arm all the way up the mountain simply to shock her. She overcame her revulsion and stepped closer. The arm had been severed close to the shoulder. The gray-hued flesh was hanging in tatters. Samuels held the arm with one hand and removed a knife from his pocket. With it, he carefully peeled back a piece of the dangling flesh. Beneath the dead, rotting skin, new epidermis had formed. This new flesh was thicker than normal and olive toned. Tiny gray hairs sprouted from deep pores. She pushed the cold flesh with the tip of her finger.
“It’s like leather,” she said astonished. “They’re not slowly crumbling. They’re changing.”
Samuels shook his head. “My God, what have we created?”
Erin didn’t believe God had anything to do with it. In his infinite absurdity, man had gone one up with nature and doomed himself. At the sound of a commotion from inside the cabin, Samuels scowled and turned toward the door just as Cuthbert stormed out, a pack slung over his shoulder and one of the rifles in his hand.
“What the hell are you going?” Samuels asked.
Cuthbert glanced at the severed arm and dismissed it. “Back,” he snapped. “Down there. I’m tired of this place. I’m tired of sitting here doing nothing while the world dies.”
“It’s too dangerous down there, Dave,” Erin said. “You’ll die.”
“One of the guards said the power is still on. I’ll shoot my way inside and barricade the lab.” He held the rifle out to show her he was prepared.
“We don’t know what condition the lab is in.” Erin spoke softly, trying to calm the irascible technician.
However, Cuthbert would not be dissuaded. “I don’t care! I’ve had it with these people. It’s like being in prison. I’ll do my time working, thank you.”
“I can’t let you go.”
Cuthbert looked at Samuels, his face turning red with rage. “Can’t? You can’t stop me.” He leveled the rifle at Samuels.
Samuels ignored the threat of Cuthbert’s weapon. “If you use the lift, zombies could figure out how to ride it and come up here. I can’t depend on you to stop them. You would be placing the entire group in danger.”
Cuthbert hesitated, and glanced back at the cabin. “Then you come with me to watch the lift and turn it off when I get down.”
Samuels shook his head. “No. I’m responsible for you, and I can’t let you go. You’ll be needed later.”
Cuthbert backed up a pace and pointed the rifle at Samuels’ chest. “I’m going.”
Before she could plead with Cuthbert to change his mind, Samuels flipped the arm at Cuthbert’s face, ducked to one side, came up under Cuthbert’s rifle and slapped it away. He then punched the startled technician in the face with his fist, sending him sprawling. Cuthbert lay there staring up at Samuels with blood dripping from his split lip.
“Damn you,” he snarled.
Samuels picked up the rifle and dusted off the snow. “The damn thing wasn’t loaded, you fool. You don’t even have a clip in it.”
Cuthbert stared at the rifle, unsure if he believed Samuels. “I, I don’t know guns.”
Samuels reached out a hand and helped Cuthbert to his feet. “I’ve been down there. Trust me, you wouldn’t make it halfway to the lab. We have to stay here a while longer.”
“How much longer?”
Erin wanted to know this also.
“At least a few more weeks until the zombie population thin out or they leave. Then we can reopen the lab and get back to work.” He glanced at Erin. “We all need to get back to work.”
With this, he picked up the arm, rewrapped it in the cloth, and went back into the cabin. Cuthbert remained outside digging the toe of his boot in the snow.
“Let’s go back in and get some rest,” she said.
Cuthbert shook his head. “No, you go ahead. I need to stay out here a while and cool off. I’m such a fool,” he added.
“We’re all frustrated. We just have to hang on.” Something that had been troubling her came to mind. “We all seem to be immune, yet we used the same vaccine we sent out for the general population. I think it highly unlikely that we all just happen to be immune to a virus with a greater than seventy percent mortality rate. Could some environmental factor be at play?”
Cuthbert looked away. Something in his furtive manner aroused Erin’s curiosity. She pressed him for an answer. “What are you not telling me, Dave?”
“We’re not immune. At least, we don’t have permanent immunity.”
Erin’s heart skipped a beat. Those had been Samuels’ exact words in the security office – permanent immunity. “What do you mean?”
He scratched his chin where Samuels had slugged him. “The orange juice, back in Atlanta, the one I said Samuels told me to give you. It wasn’t Samuels. It was that security guy, Major Hinkley. He told me to give it to all of us or he would turn me out into the countryside. I had to do it,” he whimpered.
“Where did he get it?”
“I don’t know. I just know it only lasts a few weeks at most, maybe two months. Then you need a booster.”
“Did Samuels know about it?” If he had been lying to them all along . . .
Cuthbert shook his head. “No. The major told him it was a vitamin supplement.”
Erin’s world seemed to close in on her. The army had been using them all along. They had a working short-term vaccine from somewhere, yet they had kept its existence secret from the very people they had chosen to develop a permanent vaccine. Samuels had said they were not the only group working on a vaccine, but she had assumed their goals were the same. She thought of the naturally immune people she had released and those she had been unable to free and imagined them multiplied by the thousands or tens of thousands across the country in other secret bases such as their Colorado retreat.
“Go on back in, but say nothing to Samuels or the others,” she told him.
Cuthbert smiled weakly and returned to the cabin. After he was gone, the disturbing news about the zombies and Cuthbert’s revelation hit her like a punch in the stomach. Erin fell to her knees and began to throw up in the snow.
7
Confined to his bed, Jeb felt like an invalid, but at least one well attended. Renda hardly left his side for two days, seeing to his every need. She was grateful to him for saving her life, which made him a little uneasy. He was no hero, quite the opposite. He was a fool for jumping up to distract the La Raza gang banger attacking Renda. He should have fired first, but he hesitated out of some misguided sense of chivalry. His moment of indecision had almost gotten them both killed. Luckily, both bullets had passed cleanly through his flesh, hitting no vital organs. The graze on his shoulder needed only some antibiotic ointment and a bandage. However, the wound in his side was deeper and had passed through several layers of abdominal muscle. Mace had sewed the wound closed with needle and thread, with a woozy Jeb directing him, but every movement still produced excruciating pain.
Mace buried Benjamin Reynolds in the side yard. They would never know why the gang had chosen Reynolds to help them through the gate or why he had given his life trying to warn Jeb. He had been a good friend and Jeb grieved for him. In a world gone mad, he had deserved a better end. Mace loaded the dead gang bangers in Reynold’s Lexus, drove it down the highway a few miles, ran it into a ditch and burned it, an ignominious roadside grave for walking vermin.
It was clear their idyllic hideaway was not as safe as Jeb had thought. They were safe from zombies, but he had not considered the live predators. As conditions worsened, more such characters would crawl out o
f the ashes of the city. They would have to find a new refuge. He thought he knew just the place.
On the morning of the third day, he decided he had suffered the role of invalid long enough. He slipped out of bed and showered. Just as he stepped out of the shower, Renda walked in with a bowl of soup. He held a towel in front of him to shield his private parts from her view. She stood there, a bowl of soup in her hands, stamping her foot with disapproval as Karen often had.
“Do you mind if I dress?” he said.
“What are you doing out of bed? You’re bleeding.” She jerked her head toward his side.
He glanced down at his bloodstained bandage. “It’s just a trickle.”
“You’ll rip open Mace’s stitches and then what will we do?”
“Where is Mace?” he asked.
“He’s out.”
“Out? Out where?” The idea of Mace being alone bothered him. They needed each other. What’s more, they needed Mace.
She shrugged her shoulders. “He said he had a few items to pick up.”
“You don’t seem worried.”
Her weak smile revealed that she was more concerned than she was letting on. “Mace can take care of himself,” she said. “Now, are you going to eat this soup?”
Jeb let his towel slide to the floor. “Do you want me to eat it naked or will you let me dress and eat at the table like a big boy?”
Renda turned her head embarrassed by Jeb’s brazen ploy to get her to leave. “I can see you’re a big boy. The soup will be on the table when you want it.” She turned on her heel and left.
Jeb smiled at her reaction after she left and shook his head. “She’s solid.”
After dressing, he went to the kitchen and found Renda sitting with her bowl of soup. He eased into a chair across from her, trying not to let her see how badly the short walk from the bedroom had affected him. His side throbbed miserably and he felt dizzy from the sedatives he had been taking.
“I see you’re dressed,” she said without looking up at him. She played with chunks of potato in her bowl with her spoon.
