INFECTED (Click Your Poison) (87 page)

You crack your axe against the one in front of you, instantly collapsing his forehead with the blow. The others come in toward you; Rosie’s still swapping out that mag. The weapon’s too large and ungainly and gets caught in the vines and branches. The nearby zombie moves in on you.

Crack!
Rosie sinks a round in his forehead. She puts the other two down as well. Two more zombies come from behind the trees, and barely get out a moan before she pops a round in each; all headshots. The bog is silent once more.

Rosie lowers the rifle with a smile. “You owe me, buckaroo. Just you remember this when it comes time to do my laundry at the camp.”

With an unexpected speed and ferocity, one last zombie bursts out of the water behind her and grabs a handful of her hair. Rosie screams and the ghoul brings her down, splashing into the water below. You try to rush in and grab her, but you’re greeted only with empty slough below the surface.

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If I stick around, it’ll only get me too. Run!

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Keep looking; don’t give up!

MAKE YOUR CHOICE

W
hew—nice job! 400 calories spent and 200 watts accumulated. May want to take it easy in the future; that’s a pretty intense workout. You must’ve had some stress you needed to push through, huh? Well, after another wonderful shower (after a month without, it just feels so good!), you’re ready to keep looking around.

Up next?

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The “Happy Room” sounds fun. I could use some more pampering after this ordeal.

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The “Armory.” Sold.

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Straight to the “Command Post.” I bet Lucas and Rosie are already there.

MAKE YOUR CHOICE

W
hy not take a load off? You’ll be here a while, and you could certainly use a break after what you’ve been through. Sitting outside is an older schoolmarm of a woman, knitting in a rocking chair with the glasses of a librarian crested on her nose, complete with chain draped across her shoulders. She looks at you with a warm smile.

“Cookie?” You accept the gift—chocolate chip. “Here’s how it works, dearie. No one’s inside right now, but if a queue forms, I’ll have to give you your rationed time. You’ll see a red light flash three times, and that means two more minutes. Do you like classical music?”

You lift the hand-painted “Happy Room” sign to reveal a formal, stenciled “ISOLATION CELL.” Then the woman buzzes the door open and ushers you in. Bach announces his presence over the intercom system with
Sarabande
, just light and airy enough to be heard, but quiet enough to be ignored.

The padded white walls have been painted over to look like a sunny, partly-cloudy day, the white billowing through as clouds with negative space. In the far corner, aromatherapy incense sticks smolder with wisps of smoke curling in welcome as you enter.

The door closes softly, truly cutting off the sounds of the outside world. In the opposite corner there’s a small table with green tea, should you so desire. A beanbag chair sits against the wall near a reading lamp and a stack of books, puzzles, and games.

But that’s not all that’s in this room. Trotting by, movement catches your eye. There’s a puppy! And a kitten! Omigod, they’re so cuuuuuuuuuuuute! They can only be about six weeks old, just little balls of fluff bounding around on stilted legs. The kitten squeaks with a mew, staring at you with enormous glossy eyes. The puppy leaps toward you, but stumbles on the padded floor.

You sink to the ground, greeted by a barrage of licks and tiny nibbles. The kitty purrs and the puppy whines with joy. You lie on the floor, your heart melted, and completely relax. The little animals frolic and wrestle with one another.

After you’ve had your second cup of tea, moved onto Mendelssohn, lit another incense stick, and settled down in the beanbag with Mr. Paddy O’Paws, Little Miss Ginger Fluffkin, and a well-worn copy of
The Velveteen Rabbit
, a red light from above flashes three times.

Sorry, time to give somebody else a turn.

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“Fitness/Power Area”? Color me interested.

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The “Armory.” Sold.