Dead Meat: Day 8

by Nick Clausen

  The words are ripped from his mouth and thrown away. There’s no chance of them hearing him up there.

  But to his surprise, the voice says: “Hold on! We’ll hoist you up.”

  The ladder starts moving up. William holds on tightly, squeezing Ozzy’s legs as they rise from the ground and the dog starts squirming.

  “Hold still, buddy!” William calls out. “I know it’s scary, but you need to hold still!”

  The ladder moves fairly fast, pulling them up towards the opening in the bottom of the helicopter. William can feel his strength failing, not having anything but Oreos since yesterday, but he holds on with all his will, closing his eyes and biting down hard.

  And then suddenly, strong hands grab him and pull him up, Ozzy being lifted from his shoulders.

  Three men—two of them wearing soldier’s uniforms, the third in civilian—place him up against the wall, and someone shines a bright light into his eyes.

  “Oh, fuck,” William says, squinting and trying to shove the men back, but they’re holding him tight, one of them forcing his right eye open. “Could you please not do that? I told you, I’m not infected …”

  “Pupils are fine,” one of the soldiers says. “How about the pulse, Tom?”

  “Fine too,” the other soldier says—a tall, broad black guy—taking his fingers away from William’s neck. “I think we’re clear.”

  They let go of William and he almost slumps to the floor before regaining his bearings.

  “Right, close the hatch!” the black soldier roars. “That was the last one! We’re moving on!”

  William just stands there, leaning against the wall, Ozzy by his side, looking just as befuddled as William feels. The soldiers close the hatch as the helicopter begins moving. It’s so much bigger than the medical helicopter, it’s like a small ballroom in here. And it’s crammed full of people, all of them dressed in civilian clothes and placed shoulder to shoulder, their pale faces visible in the darkness. They’re all either looking at him or sleeping up against one another. Some of them are hugging backpacks or plastic bags or piles of clothes and other belongings, but most are just sitting there empty-handed.

  “Take a seat,” a deep voice tells William.

  He looks at the black soldier suddenly standing next to him. His head is shaved and he reminds William of that guy who played John Coffey in The Green Mile.

  “What is this?” William asks. “Who are these people?”

  “Survivors,” the soldier tells him with a shrug. “Like yourself, sir.”

  “Are you just flying around picking up people at random? What are US soldiers even doing here?”

  The guy looks like he expected these questions and doesn’t really feel like answering them. “We were stationed at an air base in the northern part of Norway when this pandemic broke loose. Our orders are to get as many people to safety at Camp Future in Tunisia.”

  “Camp Future?” William repeats. “Really? That’s the official name?”

  The soldier shrugs again. “I didn’t name the place.” He nods towards the other passengers. “Could you take a seat, sir? It’s not safe standing while we’re airborne.”

  William is about to say something else, but the soldier places a big hand on his shoulder and urges him on. William goes to sit down, Ozzy following him close behind. There’s one interim place left, and William sits down. The guy next to him is about the same age, skinny and blonde. He’s sitting upright, staring at nothing. Apparently, he’s not with anybody. Judging by his clothes, William takes him to be someone who used to work in marketing or the likes.

  “I’m William,” he says in Danish.

  The guy doesn’t answer, he just keeps staring ahead.

  William nudges his knee.

  The guy blinks and looks at him.

  “You all right?” William asks. He needs to lean in close for the guy to hear him, and the guy leans away, his expression flinching. “It’s okay,” William assures him. “I’m not infected. They wouldn’t have taken me along if I was.”

  The guy eyes him for a moment, then he nods. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. How are you holding up?”

  The guy takes a deep breath. “Like everyone else, I guess. I just lost … my, uhm … fiancée … yesterday. She, uhm …” The guy swallows hard several times. “She was … she was …”

  “It’s okay, dude,” William says. “You don’t need to tell me if you don’t want to.”

  The guy nods, blinking away tears. He looks down, then up again. “She was pregnant, you know?”

  “Oh, fuck me,” William mutters, wishing the guy hadn’t told him. “I’m really sorry.”

  The guy squeezes his lips together.

  William doesn’t know what to say or do, so he just sits there while the guy battles his emotions.

  After a minute or so, he seems to get a hold of himself. He looks at William. “Are you Danish?”

  “Yeah. It’s a long story.”

  The guy nods as though he understands.

  “Where did they pick you up?” William asks.

  “In Trondheim. They said I was the last one, but I guess they changed their minds when they saw you.”

  William looks over at the soldiers sitting at the front end of the helicopter. They’re wearing headphones and looking out the windows, apparently watching the sunrise.

  “You know why they’re taking us to Tunisia?” William asks the guy. “I mean, Finland is a lot closer. I heard they have camps there, too.”

  “Someone asked that question earlier,” the guy says with a shrug. “They told us the camps in Finland are full already.”

  William squints. “That’s bullshit. My mom is going there. I just spoke with her a few hours ago.”

  The guy shrugs again. “I wouldn’t know. I’m just saying what they told us.”

  Well, they’re lying, William thinks to himself, looking over at the soldiers now talking about something amongst themselves. Why would they lie to us?

  ELEVEN

  It’s only as he steps down from the ladder that he finally registers the rank smell.

  Dan stops for a moment, sniffing. The air in the tunnel is cool and damp like he recalls it, but that synthetic, chemical smell definitely wasn’t there before.

  What is that smell?

  He looks down the tunnel and can just make out the staircase at the end. It’s lit up by a faint light from above. Like a celestial staircase. Except it looks nothing like that.

  Dan begins walking, and after only a few steps he notices the ground is oddly wet below his feet. His sock is soaked through immediately, and he can hear it slosh every time he lifts his foot.

  Is that … gasoline?

  Then it suddenly hits home. The woman said something about gasoline in the tunnel when they came back to the house. She threatened to light it on fire if they tried to come back inside. Dan had been almost certain she was bluffing, but apparently not.

  Still, it’s weird. Wouldn’t the gasoline have drained into the ground by now? It’s been several days since they left the house, yet judging from the sounds under his feet, there are still fresh puddles everywhere.

  Dan’s mind is searching for an explanation as he walks on, and with every step he feels more and more apprehensive, like something is poking at the outskirts of his consciousness, trying to warn him about something.

  He approaches the staircase carefully and looks up. The door to the cupboard is open. It’s from there the faint glow is coming, and Dan is pretty sure he can make out the silhouette of a person standing just on the other side.

  He’s about to say something when a voice beats him to it: “Stop right there. Don’t come any closer.”

  Dan stops by the foot of the stairs, squinting up at the figure. “Dennis? It’s me, Dan.”

  “I know.”

  Dennis’s voice is different than it was on the phone. It’s colder. Sterner. Older, even.

  He might just be nervous, Dan tells himself.
>
  “Thank you for letting me in,” he says, trying to sound as casual as possible.

  Dennis doesn’t answer.

  Dan stares at the head of the silhouette, straining his eyes to make out Dennis’s face. For some reason, he wants desperately to read his expression. But he can’t.

  “Is it okay if I come up?” Dan says, taking a step up. “The smell down here is really bad and I—”

  “I told you to stay.”

  Something in the voice makes Dan stop abruptly. It sounds completely unlike the one on the phone, so much so that Dan for a moment wonders if the figure up there really is Dennis. On the phone, he sounded hesitant, anxious, someone you could persuade. The voice coming from atop the stairs reminds Dan more of the woman who told them over the phone that she had killed Holger and wouldn’t think twice about killing any of them either unless they got the hell away from here.

  But it is Dennis. Dan recognizes the voice, despite the stark shift of tone.

  “Listen, Dennis, there’s no need to be afraid …”

  “I’m not afraid,” Dennis answers right away. “And I’m done listening to you. Put down your weapon.”

  Dan holds out his hands. “What weapon?”

  “The one you’re hiding somewhere.”

  “I’m not hiding anything, Dennis. I told you I was coming unarmed.”

  “You also told me you were coming alone.”

  Finally, it clicks.

  Of course Dennis must have been watching from the windows. He saw the van drive to the well cover after Dan had got out. He figured out someone else was out there, waiting for him.

  “Look,” Dan says, sounding oddly guilty. “I only brought a friend because I don’t know how to drive a car.”

  “Really?” Dennis asks, his voice still very cold. “So there’s only one person in that van?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then why didn’t you just say so on the phone?”

  “I … I guess …” Dan fumbles for the right words. Then he decides on the truth. “Look, I just thought you maybe wouldn’t believe me. That you wouldn’t let me in if I broke the promise of coming alone. I couldn’t run that risk. You understand, don’t you?”

  The silhouette nods. “I understand.” The voice doesn’t change, though.

  “I’m glad you understand,” Dan says, feeling his pulse under his chin. Something about the situation suddenly strikes him as dangerous. “I hope you don’t intend to do anything rash, Dennis. I’m sorry I lied to you, but you need to trust me.”

  Dennis scoffs. “Trust you? How can I trust you when you already lied to me? You’re probably lying again right now.”

  “No, I’m not. I wouldn’t—”

  “You probably have all your friends out in that van,” Dennis cuts him off without even raising his voice. Yet Dan can hear—for the first time—how the words are shaking, like Dennis is either afraid or very angry or both. “They’re just waiting for you to give them the signal. Once you’ve killed me and my mom, you’ll let them all in and you’ll have the place to yourself again. Isn’t that why you’re really here?”

  “No!” Dan says, shaking his head with emphasis. “It’s not that at all.”

  “It is,” Dennis says. “You want the house back. And you want revenge for Holger.”

  “I couldn’t care less about the house, Dennis. Honestly. And I don’t even care that you killed Holger. I only came to speak with your mother about this thing going on and how we can stop it. That’s all I want.”

  Dennis doesn’t answer. He’s completely still up there. To Dan it seems like he’s considering.

  Then he asks: “Are you really not carrying a weapon?”

  “I’m not carrying anything.”

  “Show me.”

  Dan lifts up his shirt and turns around slowly all the way. He looks back up at Dennis. “See? I told you.”

  “That’s good,” Dennis says. His voice is a little softer now. He pushes the door open all the way, revealing his full figure. He’s tall for his age, at least half a foot taller than Dan.

  “Can I come up, then?” Dan asks.

  “Sure,” Dennis says.

  Dan feels a big rush of relief. “Thank you, Dennis.”

  “But you might regret it.”

  Dan stops in his track. “What do you mean?”

  Dennis moves his hands and there’s a ritsch-sound, then a tiny flame flares up in front of Dennis’s chest. He holds it close enough to his face that Dan can make out his features. His eyes are staring right down at Dan, and the look in them is terrifying.

  “If you come up here, I’ll throw this down at you,” Dennis says. “I’ve filled the tunnel with gasoline.”

  Dan’s throat tightens to the point where he can hardly breathe. “Dennis,” he croaks. “Put that out right now.”

  “You don’t tell me what to do.”

  “You don’t get it. You need to put that out. You’ll burn the both of us alive. There’s enough gas down here to light the whole goddamn house on fire.”

  Dan’s voice is constricted, out of breath. He stares from the match to Dennis’s face, and for the first time he senses hesitation from the guy.

  “You’ll kill us both and your mother too,” Dan goes on, speaking fast and low. “Even if she makes it out before the fire can get to her, the house will burn down and she’ll have nowhere to go.”

  “You … you’re lying,” Dennis says.

  “No, I’m not, Dennis. Don’t you know how gasoline works? It’s the fumes that will burn, and the fumes are drifting upwards. I guarantee you, if you drop that match, you’ll burn before I do. It’s dangerous for you to even stand there with it. You need to put it out right now!”

  Dan surprises them both by shouting those last two words. Dennis jumps a little and takes half a step backwards before regaining control of himself.

  Dan finds himself unable to stop talking. “You don’t want to do this, Dennis. I’m coming up now so that we can talk this over. I promise you I won’t try anything. And I know you won’t drop that match, because I know you’re too smart for that.”

  Dan takes a step up, then another one, and Dennis is still hesitating. Then, as Dan takes yet another step, Dennis suddenly blows out the match.

  Dan lets out a sigh of relief. “That’s good, Dennis. I knew you were too—”

  “Don’t come any closer,” Dennis says, producing something from his back and points it at Dan. In the dim light, Dan can make out the gun.

  Dan stops and holds up his hands. “Dennis,” he begins slowly.

  “You might be right about the gasoline,” Dennis says. “That was a stupid idea. I hadn’t thought it through. But I was smart enough to have a backup plan.”

  “You’re not going to shoot me, Dennis.”

  “I am, if you take one more step. And don’t test me. I already shot one person.”

  It sounds like a lie, but Dan doesn’t want to challenge it. Dennis’s voice and whole demeanor have shifted noticeably; now he sounds more like the guy on the phone, scared and uncertain of himself. Yet he’s still pointing a gun at Dan, and he might just fire it if Dan does anything rash. Getting himself shot dead this close to his goal would be a tragedy.

  “All right, I’m not coming any closer,” Dan says, still holding up his hands. “Can we just talk like this, then? I can explain everything to you. I can explain how I think your mother can help …”

  “I already told you,” Dennis says, waving the gun. “I’m done listening to you, because you’re a liar.”

  “Even if I did lie to you once,” Dan says, “that doesn’t mean you’ll shoot me, Dennis. You’re not like that. You’re not like—” Dan cuts himself short just before the last word can escape him.

  It’s too late, though.

  Dennis obviously catches the message.

  “Screw you,” he whispers, and his voice is so full of hate, for a moment, Dan is sure he’ll pull the trigger. “You can stay down here and starve to death.”r />
  Then Dennis reaches out and grabs the door. Dan jumps up the steps, taking them three at a time. But Dennis slams the door before he can reach it, and Dan hears the lock click from the other side.

  TWELVE

  Liv watches the sunrise. She can’t remember the last time she did that. It’s beautiful. The way the horizon turns slowly brighter, goes from deep purple to red to orange and then to teal.

  Now and then she looks over at the house to check for Dan’s signal. So far, she hasn’t seen him or anyone else in the windows. She hasn’t heard any gunshots, either, which she takes to be a good sign. He must be in there, talking with the woman, working to convince her of his plan.

  Her thoughts are drifting as she sits there behind the wheel of the van, trying her best to ignore the zombies surrounding her, pushing and shoving to get to her. Some of them have left the van and gone back to the house, clawing again at the door and the boarded-up windows. A couple must have squeezed under the van, because even through the hum of the engine, Liv can hear fingernails scratch away at the undercarriage.

  She ignores the living dead and thinks instead of Solveig. The sunrise always reminds her of her sister. Sol means “sun” in Danish, after all, which is what their parents named her after. Liv means “life,” which now seems like a cruel prophecy come true, as Liv is the only one of them still alive.

  She can’t help but cry as the faces of her family pass by her inner eye. The tears are big and warm, the sobs coming from deep down in her belly. It feels like something is leaving her body. Like she’s letting go of something. It feels painful and peaceful at the same time.

  She sits in that feeling for the longest time, hovering on the edge of sleep.

  Then she suddenly returns to a fully wakened state, called back by something she can’t place. She sits upright, realizes that she was sleeping for real and must have been for at least a couple of hours, because the daylight is blinding. It’s warmer inside the van. Her body feels a little lighter, as though something heavy has been lifted from it.

  Nothing else seems to have changed, though: the van is still parked on top of the well cover, the zombies are still outside and underneath van.