by Kody Boye
“We really only just want a place to stay,” the woman who’d initially been crying out to them said. “We—”
“How many are you?”
“What?” the woman asked.
“He said: how many are you?” Rose repeated, jabbing the gun at the would-be intruders. “Don’t make us shoot you.”
“There’s four! Four! Just like you. So please, if you could just let us in, we would be most appreciat—”
The man’s hand moved.
The spray of bullets that hailed from Jamie’s machinegun instantly reduced the man and woman to bloody corpses.
The two remaining individuals turned and high-tailed it away, allowing Rose just enough time to dart forward and fire a few more shots into the darkness.
Someone groaned.
Another screamed as he went down.
Rose slammed the door shut and instantly began to return the crowbar to its rightful place. “Get back,” she said, taking a few steps back. “That was bound to attract attention.”
“And probably did,” Erik said, coughing. His delirious eyes flickered between Rose and the door before he kicked one of the packs across the floor to her. “Take another and tie the door up better. We don’t want any other surprises during the night.”
“No,” Rose said, stooping to search for another sweatshirt. “We certainly don’t.”
They rose the following morning and decided, for their sake and that of the people they would soon be meeting, that they would continue into Boise on foot. Knowing the risks but also knowing the benefits that would follow, they left the vehicle at the rest stop just outside of the city and began to make their way forward without looking back.
Dakota felt hopeless the entire walk to the city limits. It was as if, at any moment, they would simply be overwhelmed—swooped upon by the birds of war or eaten alive by the carnivores all around. And it wasn’t just the city that terrified him. No. It was the way the terrain had begun to reclaim the earth—creeping, ever-so-slowly, across the horizon, seeping through cracks in unused roadways and crawling upon exposed and rusted beings. A few times Dakota even saw animals, and he wondered if these once-tame house pets had regressed to their feral instincts.
Not that I’m going to be petting one, he thought.
After his brief encounter with Jessiah, he knew better than to approach strange animals, let alone those that looked emaciated beyond compare. Whether some of them were dead or not he couldn’t be sure, but one in particular—a white dog whose fur was matted to the point where it appeared on the verge of mange—appeared alien: lost, it seemed, in its own perspective in the world, and wandering aimlessly back and forth without a care in the world.
“The animals have the chance to become infected too,” Dakota cautioned as Rose took notice of the dog’s incessant pacing.
“You don’t think they’ll attack us,” Rose said, “do you?”
“I don’t know. Kevin’s oldest son, when he was still alive, told me that his horse just bit him out of the blue one day. That was before it’d turned into… well… that.”
The dog—having sensed their whereabouts—turned to look at them.
“Shit,” Rose said.
It began to amble forward—slowly, cautiously, as if treading waters in which there lay traps and other inconsiderable things. Its paws were covered in blood and its glazed eyes reminded Dakota of a phantom making its way through the night. But instead of night it was day, and now, as it made its way toward them, he raised his wrench in contemplation—unsure if he should strike the animal down before it got too close or to risk infection by allowing it to follow them.
By this point, the group had stopped moving; while the dog, no more than ten feet away, settled down on its haunches to stare at them with its ghostly eyes.
“Shoo!” Rose hissed.
It bayed—softly, as if it were the wind whining through a low and abused instrument—before taking a few steps forward.
“Don’t acknowledge it,” Dakota whispered as he gestured the group on forward. “Steve—draw your machete.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re going to kill it before it attacks one of us.”
With a simple nod, Steve withdrew his weapon from its sheath, then extended his hand toward the dead animal. “Here pooch,” he whispered, feigning treats as an owner would had the creature been alive. “Here Sparky.”
Its tail wagged—back and forth—revealing a bloodied stump where something had bit into and then torn it off.
Its blind eyes followed Steve’s hand as it approached, then as it settled on the hilt of the machete before it came down on its head.
One simple slash was enough to decapitate the animal and end its perpetual misery.
“We should’ve known this would happen in the cities more than anywhere,” Rose said, taking extra care to eye the birds above their heads. “I guess if you think about it, we’re fucked if the virus has jumped species. The zombie animals will kill us before the zombie people ever do.”
“They have the advantage of disguise,” Dakota nodded.
Jamie hefted his machine gun in his arms and gestured them onward. “So long as they’re docile like that one,” he said, nodding to the now-dead corpse at their side, “then we have nothing to worry about.”
“That was a dog,” Erik said. “I can’t imagine a mountain lion or bear all zombified.”
“Let’s just hope we don’t run into anything like that,” Steve said.
With a nod, they quieted and continued to advance into the city—knowing, now, that they had more than one threat to contend with.
The expansive red building was the first thing they noticed as they began to enter the neighborhood where the university campus rested. Monolithic in appearance and standing testament to the fact that they had come all this way for something marvelous, they stopped in their places to examine the structure and waited to see if they could spot any signs of activity.
“Do you see anything?” Steve asked, craning his head from the highest tower to the lowest window.
“Nothing yet,” Jamie replied. “At least, not from where I can see.”
“Nothing here either,” Rose said. She reached into her pack and fumbled amongst it until she found a walkie-talkie. She withdrew a piece of paper, examined it, then rotated the knob on the walkie a few times before she said, “Doctor Hernandez. This is Rose Daniels. Come in. Over.”
They waited in silence for what seemed like an eternity before a voice finally replied, “This is Doctor Hernandez. Over.”
“We’re on the outskirts of the university. Is there any way we can get in without drawing much attention? Over.”
“The main entryway is still being cleared,” she said, “but the west wing is open. There’s a door that leads into a gymnasium that you can wait at while I send some people down there to get you. Over.”
“Got it. Over.”
“Are there any of the infected in the near vicinity? Over.”
“Not that we can see,” Rose said, glancing about again as if she doubted the words she’d just spoken. “We’ll make our way to the western side of the facility and wait at the doors you’ve specified. Over and out.”
“Over and out, Daniels,” the doctor replied.
Rose lowered the volume on the walkie-talkie and slid it into her pocket before glancing over at Erik—who, after following his strict regimen of antibiotics, appeared much better than he had in previous days. “You ready, Mister Savior-of-the-World?”
“Ready when you are, Captain,” Erik replied.
Rose flashed a grin before turning, slinging her baseball bat from the shoulder strap along her right side, and taking off.
Dakota, Jamie, Steve and Erik followed.
They stole through the street and then through the front lawn that made up the entryway of the building, careful to avoid pieces of splintered table or dilapidated benches. Along the way they witnessed the carnage that had taken place here—most part
icularly: the bodies, eaten nearly to the bone, that lay on the front lawn, partially obscured by snow, as well as several vehicles that had crashed into, upended a telephone pole, and left a phone booth skewered from the top down.
“This place really saw some action when this first broke out,” Rose said, nodding to the faded blood that still stained sections of the walls.
“Seems like it,” Dakota agreed, not wanting—or willing—to look at the things the woman was pointing out. He adjusted the wrench in his grasp to ground himself, like Jamie and Steve had suggested, before shaking it off and continuing to follow the woman to the nearby wing.
As they approached the heavily-modified area, taking extra care to maneuver around the cars and other vehicles that had been arranged in a straight line leading up to the double doorway, Jamie fell back to guard their flank while Steve and Rose made their way forward to ensure that nothing would leap out at them from the shadows surrounding the edge of the building. Dakota, meanwhile, steadied Erik as he swayed, then caught him before he managed to fall over.
“You ok?” Dakota asked.
“Just a bit dizzy,” Erik said. “That’s all.”
Somewhere above them, a window opened. Shortly thereafter, a black man peeked out and asked, “Are you the group with the patient?”
“Yes sir,” Rose said, craning her head and shielding her eyes from the sun to look at the man. “That’s us.”
“Give us a few moments to get down there. The undead are a bit sparse in the area, but we want to make sure they’re not led here before we start opening doors.”
“What do you,” Dakota started, but stopped as the man closed the door.
A brief whisper of air going through what sounded like a suppressor sounded from above before a shambling zombie in the far distance went down.
Dakota turned his head.
Directly beside them were areas where the bricks had been hollowed out, allowing snipers easy access to the outside world.
“Thanks,” Dakota said, but received no response as yet a second, then third zombie was shot down.
The sound of a chain rattling and of something being removed from behind the doorway entered his ears before the door opened to reveal the black man and an older Hispanic woman in white scrubs—presumably, the good doctor herself. “Welcome to Boise State University,” the black man said. “My name is Professor Donovan Matthews, and this here is Doctor Rosalita Hernandez. We assume the patient is currently with you?”
“I’m here,” Erik said, stepping forward.
Doctor Hernandez made a move to step out of the building, but stopped when the professor extended an arm to block her progress. “Not now, Rosie,” he said. “We’ll have more than enough time to examine our new patient once they get settled in.”
Chapter 5
They were treated to a generous meal of bacon and eggs the moment they walked through the door. Famished from the morning’s excursion and hungry beyond compare, they ate ravenously and without compare as the university’s only remaining cooks continued to serve them to their heart’s desires.
“Thank god,” Erik managed. “Real food.”
“Where’d you get the eggs?” Dakota asked, looking to Doctor Rosalita Hernandez.
“We have chickens from the agriculture center holed up in one of the spare rooms,” the woman said with a laugh. “They’ve been producing quite nicely now that they’re settling in for the winter.”
“Have you had much trouble since this all began?” Jamie asked through a mouthful of bacon.
The doctor sighed and nodded. “Yes,” she said. “Half of our staff and the majority of the student body were wiped out the day the outbreak began to hit Boise. The national guard wasn’t quick enough to respond, so… there were many casualties.”
“Including the senior biology professor,” the black man named Donovan said. “Thankfully, Doctor Hernandez here is absolutely brilliant, and specializes in infectious diseases.”
“Which is why I’m so eager to get a look at your blood,” she said, centering her eyes on Erik. “When did you say you were scratched? It’s had to have been four, if not five days already.”
“Five days exactly, if it’s what time I think it is,” Erik said, nudging toward the metal grating covering the windows. “It happened after one of our party was killed during a supply run.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” the doctor said. “Good people die far too easily in this day and age.”
Dakota refrained from correcting the doctor and nodded instead. He pushed his plate away from him and sighed as the contents of his stomach settled noisily into place. “Thank you for the meal,” he said. “But right now, what I’d really like to do is sleep.”
“There are cots arranged within a room on the second floor that you all are welcome to,” the Professor Donovan said, standing and extending a large hand to each of them. “Now… as to the patient…”
Erik stood at attention, grimacing as what must have been a wave of nausea overwhelmed him.
“Are you feeling ill?” the professor asked.
“It’s the antibiotics I’ve been taking,” Erik replied. “They’ve been making me a little nauseous.”
“Why have you begun taking antibiotics?” the doctor frowned.
“He had a one-hundred-and-three-degree fever at one point,” Jamie said. “Before we brought him here.”
“We’ll be sure to hook him up to an IV drip to ensure he is being properly medicated,” Doctor Herndez said. “Come, Mister…”
“Roberts,” Erik replied. “Erik Roberts, ma’am.”
“Mr. Roberts. Come with me, please. The rest of you can retire whenever you wish. It’s the first door on the right side of the hallway once you take the stairs.”
Erik bade them one final goodbye before disappearing out the door with the doctor.
“Now that that is all settled,” Professor Donovan said, settling back down in front of them. “You must tell me how each of you came to be together. Surely a group of fine young men and women such as yourselves were not all in one place when this all began?”
“No,” Rose said. “We weren’t.”
Rose was the first to tell her story—beginning from she and her best friend Lyra’s flight from the UK all the way up to her landing and her eventual departure from a place called Fort Hope near Rhode Island. Though the following stories could not compare in the slightest, Jamie detailed he and Erik’s deployment to ground zero in New York, then Dakota and Steve reiterated how they’d come to join up with Jamie and them rest of his squadron in South Dakota.
By the time they finished, the professor’s face was aghast in a mixture of both horror and thrill. “How exciting,” he said, continuing to scribble a series of notes down on a piece of paper.
“What’re you writing?” Steve asked after a moment’s hesitation.
“Oh. Have I not said? I’m one of the history professors here at the university. Well… I should say the only history professor, since Professor Matthews decided it would be a good idea to step outside for a smoke on his own that one day.”
“Ouch,” Jamie said.
“No matter,” Donovan replied. “Regardless, I feel it is my duty as a professor and as an amateur historian to document the stories of the people who come here—especially the ones who may have just delivered humanity’s hope for a cure.”
“Do you get many people here?” Dakota frowned.
“Unfortunately—or fortunately, depending on how you look at it—no. We’ve enough supplies in storage to carry us over the winter. After that… we will be looking for alternative accommodations for the dozen of us.”
“There’s only a dozen of you here?” Rose asked.
“Myself, the doctor, her assistant, two snipers, three students and four civilians, two of whom are the women who served you your breakfast this morning.”
The group nodded to the women as they raised their hands and continued to prepare additional servings.
“Regardless,” Donovan said, “you likely don’t want to listen to me prattle. Why don’t the four of you get some rest? We’ll take good care of your friend Mr. Roberts and make sure that he’s as comfortable as possible.”
“Will we be able to see him?” Jamie frowned. “Or is he going to be in… uh…”
“Quarantine?” Donovan asked. “I… am unaware of how the doctor and her assistant plan on monitoring the patient. That is a question better left for her to answer.”
“All right then. Thank you very much. And you, ladies.” Jamie nodded to the women in the cafeteria as he stood and began to lead the small group out of the expansive room.
“You think we’ll be safe here for the time being?” Dakota asked as they rounded the stairs and made their way into the room equipped with a multitude of cots, upon which no one currently slept.
“I’d say we’re fine for the time being,” Rose replied. “Why? Do you not feel safe?”
“I don’t know. It just… seems too good to be true.”
“Fresh food, working generators,” Jamie started.
“At least in the kitchen,” Rose corrected.
“Cots to sleep in,” he continued, “men to guard us while we go in and out of the building. If you asked me, this place is as close to paradise as any.”
“So long as paradise lets me take my shoes and bra off,” Rose said, settling down to do just that, “then I’ll sleep a happy woman.”
Dakota smiled.
In the back of his mind, however, he continued to dwell on Erik and just what the doctor would have to do in order to procure the samples she needed.
*
They drew blood and hooked Erik up to an IV and heartbeat monitor.
“How are you feeling?” Doctor Rosalita Hernandez asked.
“I feel… fine,” Erik said, blinking as she took a penlight and began to shine it in his eyes.
“Pupils are normal,” the doctor said, while behind her the student assistant began to write on her clipboard. “Responses to stimuli appear to be slowed, but that can likely be deduced by the medication taken for feverish symptoms. Lymph nodes,” she said, reaching forward to feel his arms and under his neck, “are enlarged but not particularly swollen. Mr. Roberts: can you provide the answers to the following questions? What is seven plus seven?”
