The Infected: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller

by Cronan, Matt

  The executioner took his position and lifted the blade of the ax high in the air. The early morning sun gleamed off the sharpened steel blade. Sam gripped Jordan's hand so tight that her knuckles turned a frightening shade of white and her heart slammed against the walls of her chest with the ferocity of a jackhammer.

  "Wait!" Sam screamed with such force that her voice cracked midway through. The ax hung frozen in the air and the executioner stared blankly in her direction. A few gasps echoed through the crowd. The songbirds stationed in the trees surrounding the square quit chirping. Silence.

  "What are you doing?" Jordan whispered. His voice filled with panic and his grip tightened further around her hand. "Sam, what have you done?"

  Sam didn't answer him. The ax wobbled in the executioner's hands. She took a deep breath and screamed again, "Wait!"

  Troy's ghoulish grin became a seething grimace as his eyes darted through the sea of faces, searching for the citizen who had the audacity to speak against the Ministry. He sped back to the microphone as his eyes scanned the crowd. There was something strange in his voice when he spoke again.

  "Wh-who said that?" he stammered.

  Fear.

  Sam didn't answer. Terror coursed through her body. She wished she could reverse the hands of time. She wanted to withdraw her plea. Why hadn't she just let the ax fall? Why had she been so stupid?

  "Who said that?" Troy asked. The fear had dissipated and a malicious confidence flooded back into his voice.

  "Don't say a word," Jordan said. "Samantha Albright, don't you dare say a word."

  But it wasn't that simple. She looked to Abigail who stared back at her in alarmed bewilderment. Underneath the perplexed look on her friend's face was a horrifying sadness. It tore at Sam's heart. She couldn't watch in silence as her friend lost a family member.

  "Who said that?" Troy commanded.

  "I did," Sam answered, not trying to mask the terror in her voice.

  The crowd parted as if she was one of the infected. Gasps of unbridled horror echoed throughout the mob, but Sam barely registered them. The only thing she heard was her pulse racing between her ears. Jordan remained beside her and grasped her hand so tight that she thought it might break.

  "Is there something you would like to say, Miss—?"

  "Samantha," she said interrupting the Minister. "Samantha Albright."

  "Miss Albright, are you issuing a formal petition against my ruling?" the Minister grinned.

  "No."

  "Then why, pray tell, have you interrupted my execution?" he screamed into the microphone. His face turned a ghastly shade of blood-red.

  Feedback howled through the speakers and Sam pried her hand away from Jordan's and covered her ears. Tears streamed down her face and she cursed herself for acting so weak. Her knees quivered, and she took a deep breath to right herself.

  "I—"

  "You what?" the Minister interrupted.

  "I think a last word should be given to the prisoners." She wiped away the tears from her cheeks and then continued, "They should be able to say goodbye to any family they have left."

  Troy stroked his wiry goatee. Sam thought she detected a momentary look of compassion, but the horrible grin returned, and after a moment, he laughed. Sam braced herself and Jordan reclaimed her hand.

  "And what does your boyfriend think about this?" Troy asked

  Her heart dropped into the depths of her stomach. She tried to let go of his hand but his grip stayed firm.

  "I concur, your honor," Jordan said. His voice trembled as he said the words.

  "And the rest of you?" the Minister asked the crowd. "Do the rest of you concur?" He emphasized the last word, mocking Jordan.

  A long moment of silence passed before a woman near the back of the crowd screamed, "Let them speak!" The crowd rumbled with agreements, although none were as brave or as loud as the woman had been. And none were as stupid as Sam had been.

  The Minister seemed taken aback by the support of the citizens. But he composed himself, straightened his coat and pulled the microphone from the stand once more. He walked over to Tyler Stevens and grabbed a handful of the man's sandy blond hair. Tyler cried out, and when he stopped, the Minister whispered something into his ear. The Minister pulled away and Tyler nodded his head.

  "It seems," Troy's words oozed out of him, "your peers have afforded you the opportunity for one last goodbye." The Minister moved the microphone from his mouth and shoved it into Tyler's face.

  Sam reached out and grabbed Abigail's hand with her free one. She gave a reaffirming squeeze, which Abigail returned, but never once took her eyes off her brother. The crowd went silent.

  "Abby," Tyler said and paused, tears welling up in his eyes, and then he screamed, "It's all a lie!"

  The moment froze and Tyler's last words hung in the air like the smoke from the burning buildings that haunted Sam's dreams. But that moment was just that: a moment—and it passed like all others before it.

  With one seamless motion, the Minister dropped the microphone and pulled a dagger from the hitch on his belt. Troy cocked Tyler's head even further and then jammed the dagger's blade deep into Tyler's throat. Sam's knees weakened as she saw the point of the blade reemerge from the back of his neck.

  Panicked screams broke through the crowd as they struggled to make sense of the horror that had just unfolded. Blood rushed from Sam's brain and the shouts from the surrounding crowd grew distant and muted. She could see Jordan was still holding her hand but could no longer feel it. On stage, blood squirted from the gaping hole in Tyler Stevens' neck and puddled at the bottom of the wooden block.

  "Take the girl into custody! Kill the prisoners!" the Minister yelled. His voice didn't come through the speakers, but Sam could still distinguish it above the roar of the crowd. The only noise coming through the speakers was Tyler gasping for his last breath and the sound of his blood as it gurgled through the hole in his throat. The light in Sam's eyes faded and her knees gave way.

  5

  Sam opened her eyes. Her chin rested on her chest and the room spun around her. She blinked, and it steadied. She lifted her head and wished she hadn't. Shelves full of leather-bound books covered the walls, and the room smelled of cheap cigars. She slouched in a leather chair in the center of Prime Minister Troy's office. He sat on the opposite side of a large mahogany desk and stared at the contents of a manila folder.

  "Where's Jordan?" she asked. Her voice was raspy. She pulled herself into an upright position.

  The Minister held up a long, bony finger and continued to scan the stack of pages paper-clipped to the folder. "Quite an impressive show you put on out there, Miss Albright." He glanced up at her, sneered and looked back at the file. After a few minutes, he closed it and clicked his tongue. "Quite a show indeed."

  "Where is Jordan?" she repeated. Her head throbbed and her pulse echoed between her ears. The image of the Minister's dagger lodged from Tyler Stevens’ throat flashed through her mind.

  "Do you know the Ministry's policy on relationships outside of marriage?" the Minister asked. He locked his cold, hollow eyes on to hers and she cringed. "You and your boyfriend are in a lot of trouble, Miss Albright."

  "He's not my boyfriend," Sam said.

  "I've sentenced him to a month in the stockades," he said. His voice was emotionless.

  A wave of guilt rushed over her. Her defiant act would cost Jordan a month of what little freedoms they had left. The stockades would strip him of everything. No clothes, no plumbing, no showers and nothing but bread and water. Her heart ached at the thought it. She had sentenced him to a month in hell.

  "What is your affiliation with Tyler Stevens?" he asked.

  "I don't have an affil—"

  "Don't lie to me," he interrupted. His voice was venomous.

  "I'm not lying."

  Troy looked deep into her eyes. He tapped a finger on the cover of the folder. "Tell me about Rebecca Young. Our records indicate—"

  "Fuck you.
"

  Troy's grin widened into a vicious smile.

  "It's none of your business," Sam said. Her throat was tight, and the words struggled to escape from it.

  "Everything that happens in the city is my business, Miss Albright."

  Sam looked away from him and fought the urge to cry. She had cried enough in the past 24 hours. She refused to let Troy see her as vulnerable.

  "It's their fault she's dead, you know?" His voice was soft. "The men you saw today let the creatures through our walls. Why are you protecting him?"

  "I'm not." She looked back to him.

  Troy's brow furrowed, and he stroked his goatee. "Are the citizens talking, Miss Albright?"

  "What? What do you mean?"

  "I'm talking about secret conversations." Troy shifted in his chair and his lips turned downward. "Conversations happening out of earshot of my soldiers. Discussions happening in the dark corners of the city. Are they talking?"

  The question stumped her and she shook her from head side to side. "No."

  The Minister's frowned deepened. He opened his mouth to speak, but a knock at the door stopped him. Cyrus Poxxal stuck his odd-shaped head through the office door. His fat cheeks burned with color.

  "What is it?" Troy asked.

  "There's something that requires your attention in the…" he hesitated, "um…in the conference room, My Lord."

  A chill ascended Sam's spine at the sound of the fat man's voice. It was like fingernails dragging across a chalkboard. She wondered how the Minister could stand hearing it on a daily basis.

  "If you'll excuse me." Troy rose from his seat and rounded the desk. He took a step toward the door, paused and then walked to Sam's chair. He bent down and pressed his lips to her ear.

  "Think hard about how you want the rest of this conversation to go," he whispered.

  Her skin erupted in gooseflesh as the Minister's hot breath seeped through her ear and she struggled to not vomit on him.

  "I haven't decided your fate quite yet," he said. He straightened, turned and walked out of the room. The door closed and Sam heard the unmistakable sound of a lock engage.

  Blood rushed into her cheeks at the thought of what her fate might be. She took a deep breath and wiped away the tears as they spilled from her eyes. Rebecca was dead. The Minister had thrown Jordan in jail. And now her fate resided in the hands of the most evil son of a bitch Sam had ever met. She had to act.

  She stood and rounded the desk. She tried the desk drawers but found them locked tight, and her eyes darted around the room for anything that could be used as a weapon. Nothing. She cursed and looked down at the desk. Printed on the tab of the manila folder was her name. She gave the door another hesitant glance and opened the folder.

  The first sheet contained vital statistics: her last recorded height and weight, her hair and eye color, and her blood type. She flipped through the stack of pages until she reached one entitled: Blood Test Results. She scanned through the lines of text but there were no results. Just a list of dates and beside each one the words: Results recorded in main file at Concordia.

  "Concordia," she said aloud. The name struck a chord deep within her. She didn't have time to investigate further.

  The lock clicked open.

  She slammed the folder shut, sprinted around the desk and hopped back to her seat. She hoped the Minister wouldn't notice the skewed files, or her flushed cheeks.

  The gaunt man entered and closed the door behind him. Sam's eyes grew wide as the Minster took the small gold key in his hand and locked the door from the inside. Her heartbeat quickened, and she cursed herself for not trying harder to find a weapon.

  The Minister glided across the room, but instead of returning to his seat across from her, he moved behind her and placed a thin, hand on each of her shoulders. Sam shuddered at his touch.

  "Miss Albright, we find ourselves in quite the predicament," he said in a whisper.

  "What would that be?" Sam concentrated on keeping her voice steady.

  The Minister massaged her shoulders and the overwhelming urge to vomit returned. The thick fabric of the coveralls, which always felt too hot during the summer months, now seemed paper thin.

  "You created quite the scene, Miss Albright. A scene that is now burned into the minds of my citizens." His hands kneaded the muscles in her shoulders for a quick second before moving down her neckline and under the protection of the coveralls.

  She wanted to run as the ice-cold skin of his fingertips pressed against hers. But she didn't. Too much was at stake for her to make an irrational decision. Jordan's life hung in the balance of her decisions. And so did hers. She took a deep breath and clenched her jaw shut.

  "My advisors tell me this can have detrimental effects on the city." He rubbed the top of her chest and his hands inched lower with every word.

  The tears Sam had hidden from him now fell down her pale cheeks. She glanced at the door but knew there would be no escape. Troy had locked the door and even if she somehow got it open, how many soldiers would be waiting on the other side? She closed her eyes as the Minister's hands reached the top of her breasts.

  "My advisers tell me there is just one scenario that will reverse the damage you've caused."

  "Please," Sam pleaded. "Please don't do this."

  "Oh, but you've done this to yourself, my dear." His hands moved even lower, and he cupped her breasts. "Normally, we would begin the coupling process for you and your boyfriend. But you embarrassed me today. And no one embarrasses me."

  Sam stood and tried to push the old man away, but the Minister kept a firm lock on her chest. He kicked the chair out from between them and pushed her against the desk. He continued to grope her and bent her over the desk. A bulge protruded from under his coat and he grinded it against her.

  "Please," she begged again, no longer able to hide the tears in her voice.

  "Shut your goddamn mouth," he hissed and grabbed her breasts hard.

  Sam gasped as pain shot through her chest. The Minister's hands pawed at her chest and panic flooded through her. He would rape her. He would kill her. She was sure of it. She squirmed away and faced him. He advanced, and she shoved him hard in the bony chest. He fell back a step and grinned.

  "I've called for another town square meeting," he said. "Tomorrow morning, you will show the citizens that your loyalty lies with the Ministry and to me. You will beg me on your knees for forgiveness. And I will show mercy and accept. Tonight, however, you can beg and plead all you want," he paused and eyed her from head to toe, "tonight, I will be merciless."

  He took a step forward, but Sam lifted a trembling hand and he hesitated.

  "And if I don't?" she asked. "If I don't apologize, then what?"

  The Minister's grin widened into a blood-curdling smile. "If you are defiant, if you attempt to embarrass me in the slightest, I'll cut your boyfriend's head off and bury him right next to that little bitch you liked so much."

  Troy unbuttoned the long black coat and removed it. It revealed a thin, sickly frame underneath and the outline of the ancient erection he had rubbed against her. Sam gagged at the sight of it. The Minister's face reddened, but the grin remained.

  Sam's eyes fell to a glass paperweight, and she picked it up from the Minister's desk. "I won't make this easy."

  "Good," the Minister said and advanced.

  Sam threw the paperweight, but Troy ducked it and lunged at her. She tried to side step the charge but failed. He grabbed her by the waist and pushed her up against the desk once more. And once more, he pressed himself upon her. She squirmed with all her might but the old man was much stronger than he looked. He bent over her and she cringed as his hot, stale breath blew into her face. She gagged again.

  "I will ruin you," he said. One of his hands pawed at her chest and the other slid between her legs. Sam squeezed her thighs together, but the Minister forced his hand higher. She panicked but when the Minister's hand found her groin, everything went red.

  She pla
ced both hands on the desktop and pushed. The force was enough to knock the Minister backwards. She spun around and swung her fist. The blow landed and his lip split as her knuckles crashed into his teeth. The Minister reeled, steadied himself and spit out a mouthful of blood.

  "I'll kill you," he growled as the grin peeled back into a snarl.

  "You'll have to," Sam said.

  Sam swung again, but this time the Minister was ready for it. He caught her by the wrist. She swung with her other arm and he grabbed it as well and then pulled her into him. Sam tried to pull away and Troy head-butted her. Sam's knees weakened and something warm oozed from her forehead.

  "With pleasure, my dear." He pushed his mouth to hers and buried his tongue deep inside. It was like a diseased worm rooting its way to the back of her throat and Sam coughed hard. It forced him to pull away.

  "After I use you up," he said, the heavy exhale of his breath swarming around her, "I'll execute you in front of your worthless scab of a boyfriend and then I'll screw your corpse in front of him." He flashed a wide crooked smile and then kissed her again.

  The intrusive tongue wriggled in Sam's mouth and she seized the horrific moment. She bit down and sunk her teeth deep into the thick, slimy muscle. The metallic taste of blood filled her mouth and hot liquid poured into her mouth but she refused to let go. Troy managed a muffled howl and tried to pull away from her. Sam clamped down even harder and as he screamed into her, she buried a knee into his groin. She opened her mouth, and the Minister crashed to the ground.

  Sam spat a large crimson blob onto the floor and turned toward the door. Before she could take a step, a hand wrapped around her ankle. Her momentum carried her forward, and despite putting her hands out to break the fall, her head hit and bounced off of the hardwood floor. Stars filled her vision, but the adrenaline coursing through her forced them away. She kicked with her free foot and landed a blow square in the Minister's bloody mouth. His grip relinquished, and she managed to get to her feet. She stumbled to the door and her heart sank as she tried to turn the knob. She had forgotten.