“Mason, I cannot live with you dying.” It was true. She’d barely survived watching her family die. She’d only managed by not allowing herself to feel anything.
“Cate.”
“Don’t interrupt. We don’t have the time. I want you to understand that it wasn’t by choice that I left you. It was because I knew you’d never forgive what I had become. I need you to say that you forgive me. I need to know that you will forgive me.”
“Of course.” Mason said, earnestly. “Of course, I forgive you.”
“Promise me you’ll forgive me everything.” Cate knew she was playing a dirty trick. At this point, she deserved a little bit of peace, even if she had to trick him to get it.
“Cate, I love you.” She was about to go on, but he took her hand and said, “And I know.”
She wasn’t expecting that. “Know? Know what?”
Mason sighed. “That you’re a vee. You gave it away a few times tonight. And knowing that, I finally understood. Took me long enough.” He smiled, wryly.
If only she’d known five years ago that he would forgive her even this. There was no time for regret now. No time for anything but action.
“Thank you.” She said, and smiled with relief.
And then, Cate bit him. She sank her teeth into his wrist, into the foul wound the zombie had made, and she drank.
Mason screamed, and tried to pull his arm away. He tried to push her off of him. She was stronger. She held him and kept drinking.
She looked up at Mason as she drank, as he came to fully understand what she’d been asking him to forgive. He fell back against the wall, shaking his head, tears in his eyes. “Cate. Please. No.”
She didn’t know if she could really save him, but she hoped by draining most of the blood out of him, like sucking the venom from a snake wound, she could get rid of the infection. As she ingested the zombie blood, she thought, it didn’t hurt. She’d been so afraid it was going to hurt. Mostly, the blood just tasted bad. Like sour milk.
Mason started to weaken. She saw his face turn pale. She saw his body slacken. The blood had started to taste normal again. She hoped that meant she got it all. There was nothing more she could do.
Cate stopped drinking and released his wrist. Mason was still conscious, but barely.
Cate hadn’t actually witnessed a vee drink infected blood – they’d never managed to study that - and this was a new variable. She couldn’t know exactly what would happen, or how long it would take for her to die, assuming that was the outcome. Ingesting human blood that had been tainted from a bite by an infected person would undoubtedly have a different effect than injecting the virus directly into a pig, or a vee, or a human, for that matter. She would soon find out. Her final experiment.
“I’m sorry. I couldn’t tell you.” A feeble apology for the past five years, but it was all she could muster. “I knew you’d never be able to look at me again, the way you had when I was human.”
“I would’ve loved you no matter what.” Mason squeezed her hand. He looked at her like he was the saddest person alive. He looked at her like he was about to lose the person he loved most in the world. She realized she was leaving him again. A selfish thing to do. She left him because she wasn’t strong enough to watch him die.
Cate crawled over Mason’s legs, and leaned against the wall next to him. She put her hand against his cheek and he pressed his face into her palm. He was still warm, despite the blood loss.
“And do you love me still? Even now?” Cate asked, needing to hear it.
“I will love you forever, Cate.”
She felt so warm inside. She thought, at first, that it was happiness, burning a hole in her heart, melting away the years of pain. Then the warmth turned to fire and she realized her blood was boiling. The infected blood was spreading.
“Mason.” She moaned. “It hurts.”
He pulled her into him, cradling her in his arms. “Cate, what can I do?”
Nothing would stop the pain, now. Nothing could make it go away. There was one thing she wanted to do before she died.
“Press your lips to mine, and hold me close.”
And he did. Cate wished she could feel his kiss. All she felt was the pain filling her entire body. She wanted to scream, but she wouldn’t hurt Mason like that, wouldn’t leave him with that memory. She kissed him back, as if it were the best moment in her life, as if she weren’t in pain. She wanted him to have that, at least.
As the pain built inside her, she started to lose consciousness. She welcomed the darkness, but struggled to open her eyes, one final time. She looked at Mason, kissing her, and imagined that moment at the airport, back before the nightmare began.
She closed her eyes at last and returned to her memory. Cate was standing at the airport, before any of this had happened. She was kissing her boyfriend goodbye, knowing that she and Mason would see each other again soon, knowing that they were going to continue their life together, that they would both be so happy with each other.
Mason kissed Cate once on each eyelid and said goodbye and then it was over.
Epilogue
As Daniel walked into the Arlington house they’d been using as a home base for the past year, the sun was shining. It was going to be a beautiful day.
Carl followed him in carrying the baby. After a short tussle, which Daniel had lost primarily to give his ears some rest, he’d let Carl take over baby safety. Daniel had held onto the backpack. It was more important to him anyway.
As they descended into the basement, Daniel was nervous. It must be the exhaustion, because apprehension was something he simply never felt. He didn’t want to see Lisa’s husband just yet. He wanted to sleep first. Recover. And then get to work. Thanks to the baby, they didn’t have that luxury. She was going to need milk, and diapers. There was no way he was letting Carl focus on all of that when they had a revolution to start.
Miguel, Lisa’s husband, was loosely tied by his ankles and wrists to an easy chair in their finished basement, watching TV. Not the worst prison they could’ve kept him in.
Nicole, one of Daniel’s small and soon to be rapidly growing army, stood up when she heard them enter. “You did it?!” He smiled. She ran up to him and hugged him. “I knew you would.”
It was a scene of domestic bliss, except for the man tied up in the chair. Except for the baby of his dead wife sleeping in Carl’s arms.
“Go upstairs.” Daniel commanded. “Tell the others. Send Eric down.”
She saw Carl, and the baby, and shot Daniel a questioning look. He shook his head. He wasn’t ready to explain. Not to her.
Once Nicole had left the room, Daniel walked to the front of Miguel’s chair, bent down, and started untying his ankles.
Miguel, realizing for the first time that Daniel had returned, said. “Where’s Lisa? She obviously helped you or you wouldn’t be here. What did you do with her?”
Daniel didn’t answer. He finished the ankle knots and then untied Miguel’s wrists.
As soon as he was free, Miguel shot up to standing and yelled in Daniel’s face. “Where’s my wife?”
In response, the baby started to cry. Miguel turned to Carl in disbelief. Carl walked forward and tilted the baby up, giving Miguel a good view of her. As Carl rocked and shushed her, the baby’s cry quieted.
“She’s perfect.” Miguel spoke in awe. He made a move to take the baby, but Carl turned, slightly away from him and he stopped short. He turned to Daniel and demanded, “Where’s Lisa?”
Daniel stated, “She’s dead.” He fully expected Miguel to strike him. It’s what he would’ve done. He anticipated retaliation. Yelling. Something.
At first, Miguel just stared at him open mouthed, as if trying to decipher a phrase in a foreign language. Then he turned to look at his daughter with renewed intensity, still silent. The silence lasted a millennia. Finally. “Will you be releasing us?”
Daniel gestured towards Eric, who’d made his way downstairs. “He’ll take you both h
ome or to the hospital, whichever you prefer. You’ll have to be blindfolded, of course.”
Daniel was beginning to think this wasn’t going to be as bad as he’d feared, until Miguel spoke again. His voice broke. “How did she die?”
Daniel had survived a lot worse things in his life than an awkward conversation. Still, he wanted to share all the gory details of Lisa’s death with Miguel about as much as he wanted to drink sour blood. He did it, though. He even managed to make it sound a little less gruesome than it had actually been.
At the end, mostly because he thought it sounded right, Daniel said, “I’m sorry for your loss.”
Daniel gestured and Carl handed the baby to Miguel. Eric signaled for Miguel to go up the stairs ahead of him. Before taking a step, Miguel, holding his daughter tight, glared at Daniel with such pure hatred that Daniel was sure this man would find a way to kill him.
Miguel laughed, mirthlessly. “You will never be forgiven for this.”
Miguel started to walk upstairs with Eric, but Daniel, feeling he still owed something to Lisa’s memory said, “You and your daughter should leave the area. Today, if possible. It won’t be safe here anymore, for humans.”
Stupid, to have said anything. Miguel would tell the NVIA agents everything he could. With that, and what they were going to find at the research facility, they might be able to piece together some understanding of what he had in mind. Of course, by the time anyone figured out his plan, it would be too late.
Acknowledgments:
It takes a village to raise a book. There are really too many people to thank and I apologize now for the many, many people I won’t get to mention by name who have leant their thoughts or other forms of aid to me while I worked on this novel.
Thank you to Bart Robinson for the cover design and making the website look as dashing as you do! And, of course, thank you for all of the other love and support you give on a daily basis.
Mary Supley Foxworth couldn’t have done more to help with the writing and launching of this book if she’d tried. In fact, I imagine she tried! My sincere gratitude for all you do for me and my career and my dreams.
You don’t get a lot of love as an unknown writer – for your writing. For encouraging me to keep up the good work I have to thank the first person who ever supported my writing financially. Thank you to David Furst. We’ll always have Metro Connection.
On that note, I have to thank the storytellers and fans of Better Said Than Done for continuing to contribute to and support the art of true, personal storytelling, and by extension, me.
And here are some of the brave and patient people who have given me notes, comments, and criticism over the years. You know I love your feedback, even if I don’t always listen. Thanks to: Richard Barr, Barbara deBoinville, Joanne Lozar Glenn, Peter Gorman, Chris Greenlee, Cathy Hostetler, Jerry Kalke, Len Kruger, Mary Lucas, Richard Peabody, Pamela Potter, Kimberly Ruff, Katie Spurlock, and Jeremy Strozer.
And for general writing related insight and encouragement: Paula Adkins-Boyland, Stacy Crickmer, Freddi Donner, Mel Harkrader Pine, Urmilla Khanna, Lisa Leibow, Anne Loehr, Meredith Maslich, Jayne Raparelli, and Paula Whitacre.
About the Author:
JP Robinson is a writer, performer and video producer. JP’s writing includes a myriad of formats, from radio commentary to hour-long storytelling shows, and screenplays to novels. JP is a storyteller with and the founder of Better Said Than Done, Northern Virginia’s premiere storytelling troupe. After graduating from NYU’s Tisch School of the Arts with a BFA in Film and TV Production, JP launched Capture Video, Inc., a corporate video production company. JP has been a regular commentator on WAMU, DC's NPR station. Publications include the true, personal story, “The Game,” in Sucker for Love, and, “What Are the Odds?” in The Northern Virginia Review, Volume 29.
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