INFECTED (Click Your Poison) (98 page)

MAKE YOUR CHOICE

Y
ou watch while Lucas charges down the hill. He’s fleet of foot, silently loping over obstacles and gliding effortlessly across the leafy slope. For a brief second you think
what if he might need my help?
If he encounters any trouble, there’d be nothing for you to do but watch it play out from your vantage point.

But after a moment, you realize your fears are unfounded. In movements as elegant as a ballroom dancer, Lucas’ body flows behind the power of his sword. Its edge moves cleanly through the necks of the two standing ghouls, leaving just the one crawling on the ground. The blows are so succinctly perfect, the zombies take two more steps toward Lucas before the muscles realize that their connection to the brain has been severed. They fall to the earth in heaps.

He walks over to the prone ghoul and tips his face mask up, whispers something before he steps on the zombie’s head, pushing it on its side, and slips his blade into the man’s ear. Lucas turns and jogs back to you.

Slightly out of breath, he says, “Each of us must walk our own path, I can appreciate that. For me, this was something that needed to be done. Thank you for your patience.”

You nod. “Which way next?”

“The shelter shouldn’t be too much further from here, but I don’t want to go through the marshes at night. Let’s stake an early camp up ahead and by lunch tomorrow, we’ll be with other survivors.”

•
 
“Sounds good. I’ll take first watch.”

•
 
“Do you mind taking first watch? I’m a little tired.”

MAKE YOUR CHOICE

“A
rea Three, clear,” Sims lies as he turns and walks away from the hall.

“Copy Area Three, clear, hurry back,” Deleon replies over the radio.

Sims shrugs and keeps going. You follow him down the school hallways, the fluorescent lights flickering like a horror movie. “Power’s intermittent,” Sims says in response. “I had to route some of it to the distress beacons and I’ve given radio transmissions priority. It’ll increase our range, so…”

You enter the student radio hall, a modified theater room with posters on the walls of famous bands ranging from
The Beatles
to
Hannah Montana.
Sims walks over to the control board and toys with the knobs and buttons, using his electrician’s skill as intuition.

The handheld radio crackles and Deleon’s voice asks, “Sims, where are you guys?”

“You’ll have to be okay without us for a bit,” Sims responds. “We’re radioing in for rescue.”

Sims sets down the handheld radio and returns to the large console. He does a frequency scan, seeking out any possible transmissions. Staticky station after staticky station passes by, but the scan stops automatically as it reaches a gruff voice speaking over the radio. “—broadcasting in the blind. We have food and shelter and—”

“Hello?” Sims calls in with excitement.

There’s a pause, but after a moment the voice comes back. “This is Colonel Arthur Gray of the civilian camp, Salvation. Please respond.”

“This is Technical Sergeant Robert Sims, part of a resistance group located at Montgomery-Packard High School. Sir, is there still a military presence?”

“I’m afraid that’s a negative, soldier. Yours is the first outside contact we’ve had. You don’t know how great it is to hear someone’s out there, son.”

“Yes we do, sir. Trust me!” Sims laughs.

You clear your throat. “Sims, you may want to mention we’re under attack.”

He nods. “Colonel Gray, I don’t know how much longer we can hold out here. Do you have Search and Rescue teams activated?”

The emotion in the man’s voice transcends radio and you hear genuine tones of regret as he responds. “I’m sorry, Sergeant. We don’t have that kind of firepower. Almost all of our resources have gone to defense, but if you can make it out to the old reformatory prison, we’re stocked pretty well.”

“Colonel—we have a cure.” The line goes quiet.

Sims smiles to you. “Let’s see if that makes him change his tune.” Sims picks up the handheld radio and calls back to the others. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have contact. There’s a resistance group fortified in the local prison. You can kiss my ass whenever you’re ready.”

As soon as he finishes, the other end squeals with feedback. “Sims! We’re being overrun! There’s no way we—” And just like that, the line goes dead.

“Doc? Come in, Doc.” No response. Sims looks to you with genuine fear. You’re both thinking the same thing:
Are the others dead?

Before the weight of this fear truly sinks in, the student radio dashboard chirps to life once more. “Sergeant? How do you mean you have a cure?”

“We’ve got Dr. Lewis Deleon out here, the original drug’s manufacturer. He’s managed to reverse the process. But Colonel, they’re breaching our defenses as we speak!”

“Hold tight, son. We’re working to figure something out.”

Sims turns to you and says, “I think we should turn the searchlights back on.”

•
 
“I think we should barricade the goddamn door and hope to survive.”

•
 
“You’re right. Let’s hurry.”

MAKE YOUR CHOICE