The Complete Lethal Infection Trilogy

by Tony Battista

  Jake kept up his performance for nearly a quarter of an hour until there were no more than six or eight infected left in sight on the opposite bank. Some of them were too far gone to figure out where he was, but two of them just stood their ground and stared at him. These were the most dangerous ones, he concluded, the alpha infected; the rest merely drones that mindlessly sought out food, regardless of the consequences.

  Growing weary again, Jake went back to the gate and Vickie helped him into the house and locked the door behind him.

  "You lured them into the river," she openly admired.

  "It was you who put me wise to their weakness. I think we can handle the few that are left."

  "It was me who got you hurt. It was me who let them cross the bridge. It was my fault there were so many of them out there in the first place."

  "Don't beat yourself up over it. What's done is done. I gotta lie down now, but I think I'll feel a lot better in the morning. You try to get some sleep. Tomorrow, we'll bring in the rest of our supplies."

  "Let me look at your wound again first. With all that moving around, you probably got it bleeding again."

  Vickie cleaned and dressed his wound again. It was looking better, as far as she could tell. It didn't look like it was going to become infected, anyway.

  Infected. She shuddered at the dual meaning of the word. After Jake fell asleep, she went upstairs and lay awake on a bunk in the main room, staring up at the taut wires of the bedframe above her. Nothing would ever be the same again. Nothing would ever be the same.

  . . .

  Vickie awoke shortly after sunrise the next morning. When she made her way downstairs, Jake's mattress was empty and she suffered a panic attack. She went to look out the front door, saw that the gates were still closed and that there were only three infected in sight, all near the Hummer. As she began to turn away, she saw Jake walk in from the kitchen.

  “Where were you?” she cried, voice cracking.

  “Call of nature. I went out to use one of the porta potties.”

  “I didn't know what to think! I just saw your bed was empty and you were nowhere in sight and I thought you'd left me alone and I didn't know what to do and I-”

  “Easy, Vickie. Calm down. I'm not going to leave you.”

  “I'm...” with a visible effort she pulled herself together and smiled weakly at him. “Would you like some breakfast?”

  “Thanks, I would. You know, there's a reservoir up on the roof that gets filled automatically from the barrels under the downspouts whenever the generator is on,” he began to ramble. “It provides water for the toilets and showers with a couple of screens to filter out the debris. There was actually a good deal of thought that went into building this place.”

  "Yeah, it's a real paradise," she mumbled.

  "Ah, listen, I'll see what I can do about those corpses while you get breakfast going. We can unload the Hummer after that."

  Vickie mumbled something and Jake paused a moment before heading to the door. He checked his two pistols and he scanned the area before moving far from the door, then opened the compound gate, walked to the nearest corpse and grabbed it by the collar with his right hand. Pain shot through his shoulder as he tried to drag the body and he let it go. Taking hold of it again, he was more cautious in his effort, but by the time he dragged the corpse a half dozen yards onto the footbridge and pushed it over the side his shoulder was screaming with pain and he knew he would never be able to move the rest of them like that.

  "You're going to open up that wound again," Vickie called to him from the door. "Why don't you wait until after breakfast and I’ll help you?"

  "Sounds like a good idea," he smiled at her. "Look, about the way I blew up at you yesterday..."

  "I deserved it," Vickie said flatly, turning her face away from him.

  "No, I don't think you did. You were just overwhelmed, in shock. I don't guess there was anything in your life up to now that could have prepared you for what happened in the last few weeks. Am I right?"

  Vickie kept staring at the ground and Jake looked at her, seeing a frail, frightened girl who had been suddenly thrust into a situation that nothing in her previous experience could have compared to. He was truly sorry for the way he'd treated her and would have given anything at that moment to have a chance to go back and handle it differently.

  "Look, I'm trying to tell you that I understand that you just couldn't cope with this. I was angry and I was in a lot of pain, but I really don't blame you."

  She nodded her head but still wouldn't look at him. “Breakfast is ready,” she murmured.

  Vickie used powdered egg mix, of which there was an abundant stock in the pantry, canned corned beef hash and canned fruit to make a filling breakfast. Her coffee tasted pretty awful, but Jake refrained from making any complaint. After eating, he decided they should unload the Hummer before disposing of the corpses. By the time they finished, Jake was spent. His left shoulder ached fiercely and his right hand and forearm throbbed. He was still weak from loss of blood, but was too stubborn to stop until Vickie stepped in front of him and placed her palms against his chest and told him to lie down before he fell down. He was prepared to argue the point, but Vickie stared him down and he figured this was one battle he shouldn't fight. She helped him climb the stairs and get into one of the bunks, he'd insisted that she take the private room for herself, and she sorted out all the supplies and stored them away while he rested. When she finished, she found he'd drifted off and she carefully pulled off his boots and laid a blanket over him.

  Looking down at him, she saw a man in his prime, dark haired, not at all bad looking, built like a man used to working for a living. Just short of six feet, he'd towered at least nine inches over her when she'd ordered him to lie down. For a moment, she thought he'd give her a hard time about it, but he seemed relieved to have an excuse to take it easy. She could only imagine how much pain he must have been in, but he showed it as little as possible.

  She thought about Chuck again, wondering how they would have made out if he'd survived and was still with her. They had many good times together, and he was a great lover, but all they'd ever really done was go dancing, drinking and partying. He probably couldn't have coped with this new world any better than she had so far.

  But here was Jake. He'd saved her life, taken her to safety, fed her, taken care of her without asking anything in return. Even after she'd let him down so badly, nearly got him killed the day after she met him, he tried to make her feel good about herself. Would Chuck have been able to protect her the way this man had? She stood next to his bunk, thinking how she would never have given him a second glance if they’d met before the infection, questioning her own judgment about life in general and her choice in men in particular. Bending over him, she pressed her lips softly against his for just a moment.

  Sighing, she went to her room. She splashed cold water on her face in the bathroom sink, and then sorted through the clothes she'd gotten at the mall, picking out a blue blouse and a pair of white shorts. Standing in front of the mirror, she pulled off the over large fatigues and stood naked, looking at her reflection. People called her cute, not pretty, and never beautiful, just cute. She could see that in the mirror. Her eyes were large and pale green, her nose tiny and she had a small mouth with full lips. Pixie-like ears rounded out the image of her face. Everyone seemed to comment on her pixie ears, from her grandmother on down to her schoolmates and co-workers; they all said she looked like a cute little pixie. Vickie hated that description, but she had to admit there was something to it. Her body was pixie-like, too; a slight, delicate frame, breasts she'd always thought of as too small, flat stomach and slender hips. She really was pixie-like.

  She let out a frustrated huff and turned away from the mirror. After dressing, she went back downstairs, checked all the doors, and sorted through all the clothing and supplies they brought in, figuring out some kind of order and putting them away. To keep herself busy, she found a broom and st
arted sweeping, soon getting bored with that, then tried to relax and read some old newspapers and magazines she’d found. Both the magazines and the papers were full of stories about the spread of the infection and she found it all too depressing.

  In the pantry, she found plenty of flour and yeast and decided to try out the oven by baking a loaf of bread, one of the few domestic chores she actually enjoyed. While the dough was rising, she rummaged around the pantry again for something to put together for their next meal. She found a can of chicken legs. She'd never heard of chicken legs coming in a can. A bucket maybe, all hot and crispy, but a can? The label said it was pre-cooked; just heat and serve. Powdered potatoes, powdered milk, canned green beans. Surely, she could make a meal out of that. It was already only a few hours before dark, having taken a lot longer than she'd imagined getting things squared away outside and in. Jake would undoubtedly be hungry when he awoke and her own stomach was already anticipating its next meal.

  Later, she took the freshly baked loaf out of the oven, set it on a rack on the countertop to rest and stirred the potatoes and beans one last time before heading upstairs to tell Jake dinner was ready. She found him sprawled on the floor next to the bunk, his right arm up on the mattress, struggling to get to his feet.

  "Jake! Are you okay?" she cried as she rushed to his side.

  "Yeah," he smiled sheepishly. “Guess I just tried to get up too fast. Smells good, whatever you're cooking. Give me a hand up and we'll go down and have some supper."

  "Oh, no! You get back into bed there! I'll bring it up to you. I don't need you falling on the stairs."

  Vickie helped him back into bed in a sitting position, propped a couple pillows behind him and set another on his lap to hold the food tray. Once he was settled in, she went downstairs again, took the chicken out of the oven, sliced the bread and fixed two trays to bring back up. She handed one to him, sat atop an adjoining bunk and watched him as he began to eat.

  “Fresh baked bread,” Jake smiled. “I thought I’d never taste it again. You’re amazing.”

  “Why, because I know how to bake? A lot of good that will do keeping me alive. I don’t know how to shoot, I don’t know how to fight, I don’t have any idea of how to survive on my own.”

  “You aren’t alone anymore. For better or worse, we’re in this together now.”

  “It’s better for me, but it’s not done you much good, has it?”

  “You’ll learn. I’ll help you. As for doing me any good, I hated being alone, of seeing no hope for the future. I hated the feeling of just surviving instead of living, of just living rather than actually being alive. You probably saved my life as surely as I saved yours.”

  Vickie looked at him for a long time, struggling with her own feelings, her own needs. At length she looked back to her tray and began eating again, though a tear ran down her cheek.

  Jake continued to eat, too, but she could see his hands were a bit shaky, tell his shoulder was really bothering him. He tried to put the tray aside about halfway through his meal, but she insisted he finish it to keep up his strength and he didn't argue.

  When he was done, she undid his bandages, cleaned and re-wrapped his wound and helped him get comfortable. She picked up the trays and the soiled bandages and turned to look back at him before leaving, seeing that he'd already started drifting back to sleep. After cleaning up, she climbed the stairs again and took a quick, cool shower. Then she lay down on the bunk next to his. Comforted by the sound of his rhythmic breathing, she slowly relaxed, and fell asleep herself.

  Chapter 11: The Archer

  She awoke the next morning to the sound of distant thunder and heard the rain pattering on the roof. It was a good rain; steady but not terribly heavy. Jake was still sleeping soundly and she placed her hand on his forehead to make sure he wasn't feverish. Satisfied, she dressed and went downstairs. Not really hungry yet, she decided to wait until Jake woke and see if he wanted anything. Meanwhile, she went to the door, looked out the slit to see both gates still closed, and stepped outside under the entry overhang. Two or three infected were wandering in the field across the river, but none close enough to be of any concern. She watched the rain for a while, wishing it could wash away all the evils of the world, but knowing that they'd both have to cope with them for a long time to come.

  Closing and barring the door behind her, Vickie walked back up the stairs just in time to see Jake going into the bathroom.

  "Good morning," she said when he returned. "Did you sleep alright?

  "Yeah, I did. I don’t think I’ve ever slept that much in my life. I do feel a lot better today. I'm hungry, though."

  "Well, let me check that dressing again and I'll make us some breakfast."

  Grumbling a bit for the sake of grumbling, Jake sat on the bunk and let Vickie take care of him.

  "It's an ugly looking wound, but it doesn’t look inflamed. It’s still seeping a bit, but I think it might heal up nicely. Still a lot of pain?"

  "Ah, some. Not too bad."

  "I'll bet. Can you make the stairs?"

  "I'm not an invalid," he replied indignantly.

  Vickie turned her head so he couldn't see her smile and she walked slowly down the steps in front of him, hand on the railing the whole time in case he stumbled. He didn't, and he went around looking out windows on each side of the house while she whipped up some powdered eggs and canned sausages.

  "Didn't see any of our friends out there," he told her as he sat at the table.

  "A few were out in the field earlier. None nearby, though. I'd be happy if they'd stay away for a while."

  "From what I've seen, they get disoriented in the rain, like they don't know what it is or how to deal with it. Maybe it'll wash some of the stink off them."

  "They do smell bad, don't they?" she laughed.

  "Yeah, that’s just another of their many charms."

  "It's funny,” Vickie said, stopping what she was doing to look at Jake. “That's the first time I ever thought about them without being terrified. I never thought I could laugh at anything about them."

  "Well, that's good, as long as you don't get complacent about them."

  She set out a couple of trays, pulled her 9mm from her belt and set it down on the table before sitting down.

  "Hey," Jake said, looking at the pistol. "You have that charged with the safety off."

  "Oh, yeah. After yesterday, I want it ready when I need it."

  "Bad idea," he said, shaking his head. "You’re not used to handling a pistol and it's too easy for it to go off accidentally." He picked it up, ejected the magazine and emptied the chamber before sliding the mag in again. "I don't want you shooting yourself in the leg trying to draw this. When we’re in the house, when we’re not in any immediate danger, you should keep it like this."

  “Is that how you carry yours?”

  “Well, not always, but I’ve had more experience than you.”

  Vickie shrugged and nodded and they ate their breakfast. Jake got up to take his tray to the sink and Vickie told him she'd take care of cleaning up, so he went to the front door and watched the rain.

  "Hah. Another one of them fell in the river," he called to her. "Rats! I don't think I put the windows up on the Hummer!"

  "I did, just after we picked up the last load."

  "Good. In a couple of days, we'll hit the hardware store. I was thinking we could find a small generator there to run a few lights and the pumps. We wouldn't have to use the main generator very much then. I don't know how the heck they got that big LP tank on the island or how they ever expected to refill it, but there sure isn't any way we're going to be able to do that. Hey, you can drive, can't you?"

  "Of course I can drive!"

  "Okay, I didn't know for sure. I'd like to be on the lookout for a truck, something big enough to haul heavy loads."

  "A pickup?"

  "No, something bigger. We had several big flatbeds at the mill. At least one of them should still be useable."

 
; "What would we do with something that big?"

  "Over at the mill, we had a couple of big racks full of angle iron. We'll need to scout for another location somewhere on high ground and I could load up a couple gas bottles and some torches and make a barricade from the angle. If I can get a trailer, we might even get lucky and get a backhoe from that construction site on Lincoln Avenue and dig a trench."

  “That's... pretty ambitious, don't you think?" she asked, dubiously.

  "Well, it probably is wishful thinking," he admitted, chuckling at himself after a moment. "A backhoe would make enough noise to draw infected to it like flies to honey. Yeah, that's probably out of the question. I suppose we should actually find a likely location before planning anything else out."

  "You think?" she laughed.

  They spent the next two days mostly indoors, watching as groups and small herds of infected passed through the field across the river, heading mostly southward. Vickie tried to get him to move into the main bedroom, where he’d be more comfortable, but Jake would have none of it, insisting it was hers for as long as they stayed on the island.

  “It could be ours, you know,” she told him the second night.

  Jake looked at her and she could plainly see the longing in his eyes, but he slowly shook his head.

  “Why not? Why shouldn’t we? We don’t know if we’ll ever find anyone else alive,” she argued, sitting on the bunk next to him and taking his hand. “This may be the only chance for both of us.”

  “I think… I’m afraid I’d think that was the only reason; that it would be out of desperation. I think you might regret it after all is said and done. I think-“