INFECTED (Click Your Poison) (19 page)

P:
All right, how about this? What if Einstein was still alive? Still alive and in his prime because his telomeres stopped shortening. Think of the discoveries we’d have. You can be that scientist, free to research whatever you want, forever! Not to mention the Nobel Prize…just sign the form, Einstein.

That’s the end of the clip, and there are no subsequent files, at least that you can see. You’re not going to find anything else in this barren office.

•
 
The main office. Doc Phoenix is still on the phone, so I can overhear whatever it is he’s saying. Waste not another minute!

•
 
Rodent Testing Labs… They’re bound to have something valuable lying around.

MAKE YOUR CHOICE

N
othing is more painful than being eaten alive. You scream; it can’t be helped. The last thing you see is the inside of a zombie as your eyes are ripped out and swallowed. Then your body says enough is enough, and your brain shuts down.

THE END

Y
ou search the mire for Rosie, desperately feeling for her. Twigs and roots and rocks and earth and God-knows-what-else sweeps past your fingers, but no Rosie. How deep does this thing go? You’re squatted down, digging into the cavern she must’ve been pulled into, the brown water lapping against your chin. And then you feel it—her rifle. You pull it out of the water and sling it across your shoulder. You keep up the frantic search; she must be close. Then, just as you’re about to give up, a hand grabs yours underwater.

The hand grasps your wrist tightly and so you pull. Only it doesn’t give. As a matter of fact, the hand tries to pull
you
down into the cavern. You lurch up as hard as you can, gripping your arm with your other hand and pulling yourself out of the water. The hand’s owner comes with it, but it’s not Rosie.

Like a great white shark birthing from the ocean, the zombie bursts forth from the water with a surge of power and mouth agape. You fall back with a splash of wake and the undead attacker atop of you. There’s no avoiding it this time; he bites full into you.

You throw him off you and finally get your footing. In a fit of rage, you bash your axe across the zombie’s head, killing it instantly. Standing there, catching your breath, it finally dawns on you… you’re infected. Rosie’s either been eaten, drowned, or both, by now, and in a few hours you’ll be one of
them.
It’s your choice, though: you do have Rosie’s rifle.

•
 
True, it was a good run. One last zombie to kill…myself.

•
 
Never give up! Maybe there’s some help at that compound? Keep looking.

MAKE YOUR CHOICE

T
heir shadows enter the school before them, like giants, washed out in the blinding daylight from the doors beyond. You almost don’t recognize Cooper, clad in motorcycle gear and without her long black tresses. “We ran into some trouble,” she says in response to her new do. She runs a hand over her hair, now smoothed and shaved-down to a buzz cut.

“So did we. He’s been bit,” Hefty spits out.

“We missed one when we looked? Where was it?” Sims asks, slipping a pack off his shoulder. They move in, unloading several hiking backpacks full of supplies.

“No,” Deleon says firmly,
desperately
. “I’ve been bitten since long before I met you.”

Cooper raises an eyebrow. “But how? That was so long ago—how are you still… living?”

“I have a cure.”

The group confabulates in anger. They’re shouting their betrayal, and Deleon holds up his hands to calm them. He wants to explain. Bad move. All Guillermo sees is the bite wound and he chomps his teeth twice, then says, “
Mordido!
”

Guillermo jumps to his feet, cleaver raised, and charges at Deleon, who backs away, hands still raised. “Hold on,
estoy bien!
Medicina!
” The doctor ducks into Guillermo, evading the cleaver but still taking the force of the chef’s tackle.

It’s a sight too familiar since the end of the world, that of two men wrestling on the ground while one’s trying to kill the other. Sims and Hefty get Guillermo off Deleon, then Tyberius helps the doctor to his feet. Guillermo paces around, ranting in Spanish about the crazy people he’s with.

Cooper is not pleased. “I knew there was a reason I wanted to kill you.”

“Why didn’t you tell us you have a cure? Why lie?” Tyberius looks legitimately hurt.

“Well… it’s not finished. But as long as I take this inoculation every three hours—I just need to find a lab to finish it—look, I tried to say stay away from me, but you guys wouldn’t—”

“Where the hell are all the guns?” Hefty asks, interrupting.

Sims looks down and shakes his head. “It was all gone,” he says. “But we still got some good stuff, so…”

“God damn it, we are so fucked,” Hefty says. Sims removes the hunting bow and quiver, and hands it over. “Oh what, just because I’m from the South means I can use this? That’s racist.”

“Can you use it?” you ask.

“Well… yeah.”

“Just shut up, everybody. I’m too tired for this shit,” Cooper says. She’s deep in thought, staring at the floor. Then she looks at Deleon. “How much of that stuff do you have left?”