by Q J Martin
Jane didn’t say anything.
“So,” Logan contemplated, “why am I not dead, then?”
“I got you the cure.”
“You what?” Logan asked.
“The cure for Frenzy, not the InstaRegen Cure. Your body was doing its best at fighting off the effects of the drug, but I knew it couldn’t keep it up forever. So I went and broke into a hospital and got the serum you needed to make it through withdraw without your heart stopping.”
“So you… you went all the way across town by yourself?”
“I’m ok,” Jane said reassuringly. “I’m ok. I was able to…” She sighed, unsure of how to continue.
“To control them?” Logan asked pointedly.
Jane didn’t respond.
“Just like Randell was able to, once he got Infected.”
“Except I’m not Infected,” Jane replied.
“How do I know that?”
Jane stood up. “This is how you know,” she said, gesturing for Logan to follow her. She led him out the front door and across the hallway to the opposite apartment.
Logan followed her warily. He creeped into the hallway, looking around to make sure there was no sign of Infected, then ran across to join her. She opened the door and walked inside, leaving Logan alone in the hallway.
Logan stepped through the door. It was another identical apartment, but in the corner by the door was a large stack of empty IV bags. Jane walked to the bedroom. Logan walked up behind her and found Randell laid out on the bed. His arms and legs were bound, and he had an IV connected to him.
“This is what happens to all Infected, eventually,” Jane said, pointing at his emaciated form. “I’ve pumped enough macro-nutrients into him in the last two weeks to feed a small army, and I’ve had to use double the sedatives to keep him under.”
“For the last two weeks?” Logan asked. “Two weeks,” he repeated. He shook his head. “You’re lying. It can’t be. You’re lying.”
“Count the IV bags by the door,” Jane responded. “Count your IV bags! You’ll see that you’ve went through two weeks’ worth of nutrients. Randell’s went through a hell of a lot more.”
Logan closed his eyes. “No, no, no, no, no.” He slammed his fist against the wall. “What’s happened since I went under?”
“The Infection’s been spreading. They can’t control it. None of their quarantine measures have succeeded thus far. There’s word that the UN is considering taking more drastic steps to contain it.”
“Drastic? Like what?”
“No one knows,” Jane said. “Actually, I haven’t been able to get any updates at all for about five days now. The power to the apartments went out, and then my PH died, so I’ve been disconnected from the internet that whole time.”
“Two weeks,” he repeated, looking at his best friend’s body on the bed. “Glenn and Roselyn. Two weeks by themselves. God knows what’s happened to them.”
“I’m sorry,” Jane said.
Logan looked back at Randell. “So you were telling the truth,” he said, far away.
“The truth about what?”
“That you’re not Infected.”
Jane walked over and put her hand on Logan’s shoulder. “So you were telling the truth,” she repeated.
“The truth about what?” Logan asked bitterly.
“That you’re just a good man, looking for your children.”
Logan clenched his eyes, and a tear ran down his cheek.
“We’re going to find them,” Jane assured him. “I promise.” She leaned in and kissed him tenderly on the cheek.
“What about Randell?”
“I don’t have enough IVs left to continue supporting his metabolism,” Jane said, shaking her head. She walked over to the nightstand and pointed at her supplies. “And I’m nearly out of sedatives.”
“So our only option is to let him starve to death,” Logan said, connecting the dots.
“Not necessarily. His body will continue to dwindle until the point that it’s no longer able to function, but his cells will never die. Once they run out of fuel, they’ll enter a state of hibernation until more nutrients are injected into his body.”
“So you’re saying we could leave him here until we find a solution, a way to stop the effects of the Cure?”
“We could. But I’d estimate it would take another month before Randell entered hibernation.”
Logan groaned at that information. “So he’d be spending a month without sedatives, slowly starving to death, unless—unless he managed to free himself in that time, in which case we’d never find him again.”
Jane didn’t respond.
A sudden realization came to Logan. “Don’t their bodies run through nutrients more quickly if they’re injured?”
“Yeah, but what are you suggesting?”
“If I…” Logan took a deep sigh. “If I injured him enough, I could fast-track his body into hibernation mode.”
“Are you going to shoot him?” Jane asked gravely.
Logan shook his head. “Too loud.”
“I see.” Jane took a deep breath.” Well, are you sure that’s what you want to do?”
Logan nodded somberly. “But I want to wake him up first.”
“Ok,” Jane said. She walked around the bed and unplugged the IV from Randell’s arm. “He should be awake in just a minute.”
Logan stood there, waiting. He wasn’t eager to have to face his old friend, but at the same time, he just wanted to get it over with. He took a deep breath when he saw Randell’s eye start to twitch.
Randell groaned and tried to sit up, but he was unable to given the fact that his hands and feet were bound. “What’s going on, man?” he croaked, looking around the room.
“You were Infected,” Logan said.
Randell’s face became downcast, as if he knew what direction this conversation would take, and what his eventual fate would be. “I didn’t know I was… Infected. Not at first.”
“But you knew eventually,” Logan said. “Someone bit you—”
“Scratched.”
“Someone scratched you, and then suddenly you’re so hungry you can barely stand it. So you chose to come to my house and help me hunt down my children. What were you planning on doing, Randell? Killing them? Consuming them?”
“No!” Randell cried, flinching at the thought. “I just wanted to help you. I could feel the control I had over them. I knew you never would have made it to your family without my help. I just wanted to make sure you got to see your children again.”
“You failed,” Logan said coldly.
“I failed,” Randell agreed. “So what are you going to do to me now?”
Logan closed his eyes, but didn’t answer.
“I’m just so hungry,” Randell bemoaned. “I can’t help it, I’m so hungry. That’s it. I didn’t want to hurt you.”
Logan walked up. He stood directly above Randell, and clenched his hand into a fist. His knuckles turned white, and his arm shook. He raised his fist above his head, held it for just a second, then brought it down in an arc. It landed squarely in Randell’s chest.
Thud.
The sound of bones snapping pervaded Logan’s hearing.
Randell’s misshapen chest began to mend itself. “I’m so hungry,” he moaned.
Logan raised both arms and brought them down on his chest in another sickening crunch.
Thud.
“I hate you!” Randell screamed. “I’ve always hated you! You worthless excuse for a human being!”
Thud.
“Give me something to eat! Give me—give me… something.”
Thud.
“Food! Now!”
Thud.
“Foooooooooood!”
Thud.
“Gaaaaaaaaaaa!” Randell snarled, saliva pouring out of his open mouth.
Thud.
Randell whimpered.
Thud.
Randell grew silent. Logan turned around, took one step, th
en fell to his knees and began to weep. Jane walked up behind him and wrapped her arms around him.
“I’m so sorry,” she said.
“He’s—” Logan stammered, “he’s not dead. He’s not dead. I could never kill him. I could never…” Logan trailed off, shoving his face into his hands.
“No, he’s not dead,” she reassured him. “You did the right thing. You’re a good person.”
⌬
Jane escorted Logan out of the apartment. They barricaded the door so that no one could get in without considerable effort. Anyone who could put that much effort into breaking into an apartment wouldn’t be Infected, and anyone who wasn’t Infected wouldn’t want to break into an apartment with someone who was Infected inside. At least, that’s what Logan hoped.
Together they walked across to the apartment that Jane had set up camp in. Logan was becoming distinctly aware of a terrible odor wafting around him. He looked around, trying to identify the source of the smell, until finally, he looked down. He pulled his shirt up to his nose.
“My God,” he said, “That’s me.”
Jane grimaced. “Well, there was only so much I could do by giving you sponge baths.”
“Sponge baths?” Logan asked. He felt himself turning red again.
“Yeah,” Jane replied awkwardly. “But the good news is that the water is still working, for the moment, at least, so you can take a shower on your own now.”
Logan thought about it. “It would be a cold shower,” he sighed.
“Yeah. It’s not ideal, but,” Jane contemplated, “it’s the only option we have.”
“Better than nothing,” Logan said, attempting to smile. He found his bag near where he had been sleeping. He reached inside and pulled out a pill, then swallowed it dry.
⌬
Logan stood just on the edge of the range of the shower nozzle. He had been standing there for several minutes, but he still hadn’t adjusted fully to the freezing cold water that was pouring out of it. All over his body, his skin was bumping up in protest.
Finally, he adjusted enough, and he was able to start scrubbing away at the grime and filth that had accumulated on him in the last two weeks. He couldn’t believe it had been two weeks. He thought traversing the 60 miles between Minneapolis and Rochester was bad. And now he had wasted two whole weeks. Not that he had any control over that course of events, but the significance of them weighed heavily on him nonetheless.
Logan was lost in thought when he heard the sound of the door clicking open. His heart skipped a beat as he remembered the terrible nightmare that he had the night of the Infection.
“Um, hello?” he called out, unable to open his eyes as they were covered in soap.
“Don’t worry,” came Jane’s reassuring voice. “It’s just me. I got some clothes for you. I found them at the department store while I was out last week. Best thing about the apocalypse is that you get name-brand clothing at rock bottom prices. At least,” she hesitated, “I think they’re name-brand clothes. Long story short, I got you a few t-shirts, a leather jacket, and a couple pairs of jeans.”
“Oh, um, ok,” Logan said hesitantly. He felt so exposed, even behind the opaque shower curtain. “Thank you. I appreciate your thoughtfulness.”
Jane didn’t respond. Logan assumed that she had left, but then the shower curtain was yanked back and she stepped in with him.
“What are you doing?” he exclaimed, covering himself with his sponge.
“Conserving water. God knows how much longer it’s going to last. What are you doing?”
Logan tried to open his mouth, but no words came out.
“Oh, relax,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Trust me. Nothing’s changed since the sponge baths I gave you.” She eyed him from head to toe, pausing near the bottom to consider, then added, “Well, one thing’s changed.”
⌬
“So how did you manage it?” Logan asked, scrubbing his arms with his sponge.
“Manage what?” Jane replied.
“Two weeks all alone, journeying across the city for resources,” Logan said. He raised his eyebrows as if to say, All that stuff.
“Well,” Jane said, considering the topic deeply as she washed soap suds off her chest. “It’s so hard to explain, but I could just feel a connection growing between myself and the Infected, like they were waiting for me to tell them what to do somehow. So I started walking out into the hallway. I’d walk up to doors where I could hear Infected inside, and I’d stay there until I could make them do what I wanted. I managed to make one of them open her apartment door and walk outside. I followed her out. There were Infected all around, but they didn’t hurt me.”
“And then you went to the hospital and gathered the supplies you needed?” Logan asked. He finished washing himself off, then slipped past her and stepped out of the shower.
“Exactly. So, the good news is,” Jane continued to shower, “we should be able to finish our trip without facing too much danger. I believe I can keep them from crossing our path as long as we don’t do anything overly stupid.”
Logan was drying himself off. Jane pulled back the shower curtain, grabbed another towel, and began doing the same. Logan didn’t know whether he should try to avert his gaze from her form or not. It seemed like no matter how hard he tried, his eyes kept gravitating downwards.
The last time he had seen a woman like that was way back before he put his hands on… “Well,” he said, clearing his throat, “we might actually have a chance of making it now, thanks to you.” Logan sighed and looked at his feet. “I’m sorry I doubted you.”
“You had every right to,” Jane said.
She leaned in tentatively. Logan turned away, then finally gave up all pretenses and leaned in, meeting her lips with his own and sharing a tender, passionate kiss.
⌬
Logan and Jane worked together to pack their bags, readying themselves for the journey ahead. Jane had all sorts of supplies gathered in the bedroom, enough to last through the rest of the trip if they used them wisely.
Logan pulled out his revolver, wiped the grime off of it, polished it, reloaded it, and then stuck it carefully back into its holster. He was beginning to piece together more and more of what had happened before he blacked out, and what he managed to remember weighed heavily on his mind—and even more so on his heart.
He reached into his pack and pulled out a handful of pills. He walked to the kitchen and threw the pills in his mouth, then leaned under the faucet and took a sip of water.
He kneeled down in front of the sink, clutching his stomach, trying his best not to get sick. He rocked himself back and forth gently, trying to will away the guilt that weighed down his heart.
“Hey, are you alright?”
Logan looked up and saw Jane standing in the doorway, looking at him with growing concern.
“I'm a monster,” he replied, covering his face with his hands. “I told myself I would never become a monster again. Look at all the good that promise did me.”
“Logan, you’re not a monster.” Jane walked over and sat down next to him. She put her hand on his knee.
“You don’t know the half of it,” he whimpered. “All this time, Randell and I were worried about you, about whether you could be trusted, and I was the monster all along.”
“Being modded doesn’t make you a monster,” Jane reassured him.
“How—” Logan stopped and looked up, “How did you know I’m modded?”
“I’ve known the entire time. You’re smart. You notice things quicker than normal humans. You’re stronger. Strong enough to survive an overdose of Frenzy. Strong enough to make it through the end of the world.”
“As strong as any monster is.”
“I’ve seen the pills, too. I know what they are. Do monsters fight their urges at every turn? Do monsters feel regret? Do monsters do everything within their power to be more than what they are?” When Logan didn’t respond, she continued, “You’re no monster. You’re a good m
an. You have your weaknesses and faults just like any of us do, but I’ve never seen anyone fight so hard to be the best version of themselves possible.”
“Thank you.” Logan leaned in and laid his head against her shoulder.
⌬
Just as Jane had promised, the streets were empty. Not a single Infected crossed their path. They walked down the sidewalk with no worry of being cornered or pounced on. They were making good time. They were almost at the outskirts of the city by midday.
Out of nowhere, they heard a buzzing sound off in the distance.
“What is that?” Jane asked, concern growing on her face.
“It sounds like,” Logan listened closely. “A helicopter.”
The noise got louder and louder as they stood there listening. Finally, they could see the helicopter breaking through the clouds on the horizon. As it got closer, Logan made out the UN markings on the side of it. A door in the back slid open.
“What's it doing?” Jane asked.
A machine gun turret came out of the opening, with a man sitting behind it.
“Oh God,” Logan said.
The helicopter was nearly overhead. As it passed by, Logan heard the sound of hundreds of sets of stampeding feet. He looked and saw an army of Infected cresting over the hill, chasing the helicopter. It would overtake them at any moment.
The gunner opened fire. The sound of bullets echoed between the buildings as an entire swath of Infected was mowed down. The gunner kept firing until he ran out of ammo. Then he stopped to put a new clip in his gun. As he did so, it became obvious that he wasn't the only one firing. Logan looked out into the crowd and saw that several of the Infected had been soldiers. Others looked to be well-armed civilians. They all seemed to be cognizant enough to at least know how to pull a trigger.
The gunman began firing again, but he was too late. A spray of bullets ripped across the helicopter. His stomach exploded in a spray of red, and he toppled over the machine gun, falling straight down into the middle of the hoard. They swarmed him.
There were more gunshots. The helicopter began to rotate uncontrollably. It was on a collision course with Logan and Jane. Logan grabbed Jane. They ran as quickly as they could, avoiding death by mere seconds. The force of the helicopter hitting the ground behind them knocked them both off their feet.
