INFECTED (Click Your Poison) (17 page)

All you want to do is lie down and sleep. Your arms ache from carrying the axe, and you can’t even feel your legs anymore. You move with your team down the street, well, like zombies, too tired to even talk until Sims randomly laughs aloud.

“That’s why they call me Hefty,” he says. The laugh is contagious, and one by one you all join in the college-all-nighter-it’s-2am brand of laughter. It’s not as funny as all that, but your abs ache and tears come to your eyes. You’re laughing just to laugh. It’s a welcome break from exhaustion and stress.

You move past a cross street with a “Zoo to the right” sign. Following the sign with your eyes, you see a rhinoceros rooting through trash. You stop and watch. The folds of the rhino’s skin border on plate mail, dry and hot in the sun. It’s almost surreal, seeing this giant animal out in the open. Despite the fact that his whiskers are brushing aside greasy plastic bags, the animal looks somehow majestic amongst the post-apocalyptic violence of the city. Deleon takes notice and says, “I am not capitulating.”

“What’s that?” you ask.

“Nothing. Something from a play I read in college.”

Sims appears on his other side. “Wasn’t the Bard, was it?” he asks.

Deleon smiles. “No, it wasn’t the Bard.”

“That thing… isn’t one of them, right?”

Deleon rubs a dirty hand against his beard stubble. “The ‘infection’—if you can call it that—isn’t a virus at all. It’s an alteration of the genetic code, meaning it’s DNA-specific, so there’s no risk of interspecies contamination.” He catches a confused look from Sims. “Only people.”

“How do you know that?” Sims presses.

“Hey!” Hefty shouts. “Les’ go sleep in that bank. We can go into the vault.” You turn to see what he’s talking about.

“What a sec… That’s
my
bank!” Tyberius yells. The street façade is barely recognizable, even to those who used to live and work here. The city is just a shadow of its former self. Tyberius starts to jog over to the bank, and with renewed energy, you find yourself bounding over with the rest of the group.

The sign above the large glass entrance reads, “MARSHLAND STATE BANK,” and the interior is filled with zombies. They mill about the entry, becoming excited as you approach. No sounds escape as they pound the glass, but the streaks already present at fist-level indicate you’re not the first passers-by.

Tyberius moves right up against the glass, fearless. His breath steams as he looks at the white-collar zombies. They, on the other hand, have no breath. “I know all these people. That dude was an asshole. Oh, fuck her. There’s my boss!”

“So how ‘bout it, Coop? Maybe there’s an armored car inside?” Hefty says.

She shakes her head. “They’re enclosed—and silent.”

“We’re almost there anyway,” Sims interjects. “Actually, we’re just about exactly halfway between the guns and the school.”

“Awww, Jeff didn’t make it out? Jeff was good people,” Tyberius says to the zombies.

Deleon clears his throat and crosses his arms over his chest. “Look,” he says. “I don’t want to get into this debate again, but I think the loss of our supplies re-emphasizes the need to get to the school first.”

“I don’t want to debate, either,” Cooper answers. “It’s early enough in the day that we can go get guns and take the school before dinner.”

“Why? Why can’t it wait a few hours?” He says with anger in his voice.

“Why? Weapons count, who’s got what? I’m out.” She holds up empty hands. You frown; she’s right about that. Some of them lost their weapons in the fire, you realize.

Sims holds up his
Rambo
knife. “I’ve got Isabelle.” Hefty holds up empty hands, though you remember when he abandoned his heavy lead pipe on the night’s march. Deleon raises up his hammer for inspection.

“One dull axe,” you declare.

Tyberius holds up his police baton. “I’ve got this Brotha’ Beater.”

“Ooh, bad idea,” Sims says, sucking the
ooh
in through his teeth. “It can’t deal a killing-blow. It’s designed that way, so…”

Tyberius tosses it over his shoulder. “I’m out.”

Everyone looks at Guillermo. “Jose?” Cooper asks. He raises up his frying pan and his meat-cleaver. Cooper holds out a hand. “Give me one.” He slowly shakes his head, comprehending yet refusing. She takes a step forward. He takes a step back, raising the cleaver. “Fine,” she says, giving up. “But the point stands. We won’t do well in an encounter with the undead.”

•
 
“Cooper—we’re all exhausted. The guns will be there tomorrow.”

•
 
“She’s right, Doc. And who knows what we’ll have to fight off at the school?”

MAKE YOUR CHOICE

T
he group has reconvened at the gym, and Deleon is wide awake. He holds a syringe of blue liquid, the formula glimmering in the light of the lanterns. It’s nearly sunset and the skylights don’t bathe the gym in light like they once did. “So that’s it?” Cooper asks, looking at the supposed cure.

“I believe so. What we need now is a guinea pig. If you’ll permit me,” Deleon says, holding up his pointer finger. He passes the syringe to you and jogs off across the gym. He reaches a doorway, with the word “VISITORS” prominently painted above. With a wave, the doctor bids you come closer.

You walk across the gym with the other group members, casting glances of doubt to one another. “Don’t be afraid,” Deleon says as he opens the double doors. From the shadows within, there’s a scraping sound, and the wet screeching of skin against the basketball court floor.

From the recesses emerges a legless zombie, crawling its way out despite the wounds. You all instinctively go for your weapons, but Deleon holds up his hands to slow you. He extends an open hand for you to return his syringe.

Once you do, he moves in on his guinea pig. The undead man snaps his teeth and claws at the doctor, but Deleon is able to stab him with the syringe and back away.

“What now?” Sims asks.

“Just watch.”

The zombie twitches and turns onto its back. He reaches a clawed hand up, but it’s not the same. A look of recognition comes over his eyes. Human recognition. A noise, barely audible, comes from the man’s throat. It sounds something like a hoarse, “What?” He gasps and spasms once more.

Then the legless man dies, blood and bodily fluid flowing out of his corpse onto the gymnasium floor. “It didn’t work,” Tyberius says.

“Yes, it did. He died because of his injuries, not because of the serum.”

“How can you be sure?” Hefty asks.

“I’m sure. And in another few hours, I’ll be using the next batch on myself.”

“All right, Doc, I hope you’re right,” Cooper says. “‘Cause I’ll kill you myself if you turn.”

“What do we do until it’s ready?” you ask.

You each look at one another and Guillermo picks up on the pause. “Ven conmigo! Comida, si?” He rubs his stomach, along with an “mmmmmm” sound, and pantomimes eating from a spoon. He then backs away and waves to you to follow him.

•
 
See what Guillermo has “cooked up” for you.

MAKE YOUR CHOICE

Y
ou lean against a tree, fighting sleep, your eyes jumping at every leaf blowing in the midnight breeze. This, in theory, is your last night out in the woods. If you make it through tonight, tomorrow you’ll be at the compound, swapping stories with other survivors and receiving a well-deserved pat on the back for your fortitude.