Patient Z (19 page)

“Harder!” They might have heard that outside. Cal didn’t care. He’d climaxed, his cock was still hard, and Mitch’s cock was rubbing his prostate in a way that made him think he couldn’t stand such intense pleasure for much longer. He didn’t have to wait any longer. Mitch groaned and stiffened, pressed hard, deep inside Cal, and came, filling Cal, thrusting a couple more times, not so deep, body shuddering and finally going limp, leaning over Cal’s back. Only Cal’s arms, braced on the bed, kept Mitch’s weight from forcing him down into the mattress. He made himself stay like that, arms trembling, until Mitch came to himself enough to withdraw and then flop down on his back.

Only then did Cal collapse onto his front on the bed. The blanket was itchy against his tingling and sensitized skin. He resisted the temptation to roll into Mitch’s arms, even when Mitch reached out to stroke his back. That would be too Sunday morning.

“You okay, Cal?” Mitch asked.

Cal turned his head, pillowed on his arms, to face Mitch. “Of course. That was great. Good for you too?”

“Fuck, Cal, what do you think?”

“Good. Okay. I guess I’ll take a nap. See you in an hour.” He had to turn away from the hurt expression in Mitch’s eyes.

Chapter Nineteen

They arrived back at the rig the next day with only a few minutes to spare before darkness fell. The sun was low over the sea. Their day collecting general supplies had been largely uneventful. A few more random zombies dispatched, but they hadn’t run into any real dangers or horrors like at the hospital.

Bren greeted them with hugs. Even Cal got one, though it was the “handshake, then pulled into a hug with a backslap or two” type. She hugged like a straight man.

“There’s going to be a council meeting tomorrow,” Bren said as they manhandled the crates of supplies. “They want to hear a full report about the mission and about conditions ashore.”

“Thanks, Bren,” Mitch said. “Cal, grab the other end of this one.” It was the crate with the fancy microscope they’d looted from the hospital. Mitch and Cal carried it carefully through the narrow corridors and up the steep ladder to the new infirmary.

“Excellent! Excellent,” Phyllis said as she unpacked it. “Exactly the right type, boys. Well done.”

“I suppose this means you want more of my blood,” Cal said.

“It would be much appreciated. In fact, why don’t you stick around for a few minutes, and I’ll get some now.”

“We’re pretty tired, Doctor,” Mitch said. “Not to mention dirty and hungry.”

“Oh, of course. We can do it tomorrow—”

“No,” Cal said. “It’s fine.” He looked at Mitch. “Go on down and get cleaned up. I’ll see you in the mess for dinner.” Mitch got the hint. Cal couldn’t have dropped it any harder. He left Cal and Phyllis alone.

“Take a seat,” she said. “Won’t take a moment. Roll your sleeve up, please.” She filled a small tray with what she needed and sat beside Cal.

“Doc,” Cal said as she tightened a strap around his biceps and started to tap the vein in his elbow. “Can I ask you something? It’s a bit of a silly question.”

“Don’t worry about that. I’m a doctor. I’m very familiar with silly questions.” Cal gritted his teeth and gave a soft grunt as the needle penetrated his flesh. “Sorry,” she said. “I should have had one of the nurses do it. My hands aren’t what they were. What’s your question?” She pulled back the plunger, and his blood filled the syringe.

“Why don’t zombies bite other zombies?” Cal asked.

“That’s not a silly question at all,” she said. “It’s very pertinent, in fact, and it was an important line of research at the CDC before they were overrun.” She withdrew the needle and pressed a cotton ball over the small puncture. “Bend your arm up and press that down firmly.”

“The CDC have any ideas?” Cal asked as she pulled off the strap.

“I never got to see the conclusions. Why don’t you tell me what’s made you ask?” She dumped the needle and labeled the sample while he talked.

“The zombies are often in groups, right? But they don’t attack each other. They just mill around until a live person shows up and then go straight for them.”

“There’s something else you might not have noticed,” she said. “But the CDC did. They only attack the uninfected. An infected but still living human may be able to walk through a crowd of zombies untouched.”

“Shit. I didn’t know that. But why?”

“Well, think it through. The parasites in the brain are what drive the zombies. The parasites are a disease, and there’s only one thing a disease wants.”

“To be passed on.” Cal checked the cotton. A few drops of his blood had soaked into it. His blood, with its antibodies.

“So why would they not bite other zombies and the infected?” Phyllis asked, like a teacher trying to coax the right answer from a pupil.

Cal frowned, thinking it through as she’d said. “Because it’s a waste of time and energy.”

“Exactly. Time spent biting someone already infected is time lost from finding someone uninfected to bite. The virus is very efficient that way. Which always makes me wonder…”

“What?” Cal asked as she trailed off.

“That perhaps it was designed that way.”

“Designed?” Cal stared. “You think someone created this? On purpose?”

“I don’t know.” She sighed. “And we’ll probably never know. But it’s a possibility.”

“Sounds about fucking right, though. Um, excuse the language, Doctor.”

She waved a hand. “Cal, I’ve delivered babies. I’ve heard stronger bad language than you ever will.”

He smiled. “I’ll bet. I’m just saying, sounds about the way humanity would go eventually. Self-inflicted.”

“We’re not gone yet.”

“No.” Cal discarded the cotton ball and let her put a bandage on the needle wound. “So if that’s the
why
of why they don’t attack each other, the other question is
how
. How do they know not to? I mean, I can see how they’d be able to identify other zombies. But what about the infected but not dead?”

“Now that’s a much harder question to answer. It can’t be visual, or they’d attack anyone living. Some suggested they can hear the heartbeat of a living human, but I don’t buy that one. It doesn’t account for the infected being left alone. I can only think of scent. Maybe there’s some distinctive scent the infected give off that they can detect. There were theories, a lot of observations, that a zombie’s sense of smell is heightened, but nobody had time to prove it.” She shrugged. “It’s a practical question, not like the abstract why question. We’re not going to solve it here.”

“What about the vaccine?” Cal asked. “Are you going to solve that here?”

“I’ve made progress. You’re an important part of that. The antibodies in your blood are different from any I’ve seen so far. It’s possible you do have a natural immunity that the vaccine enhanced. Now I’m working on producing those same antibodies with the vaccine.” She sighed. “I really need a fully equipped lab and a team of assistant researchers to help me. Maybe one day in the future, that will exist again. Maybe they’ll be able to use the work I started.” She put her hand on a bag she always carried with her, containing her notebooks. “I doubt I’ll be around to see it. Right, young man, enough theorizing. Go and clean up. Nobody needs a heightened sense of smell to find you in the dark.”

“Sorry,” he said, standing up, grinning. “No showers ashore.” He made for the door but turned to see her bending over the bag with her notebooks, looking glum, maybe wondering if all her research would be a waste of time. “Doc,” he said. “I’ll do everything I can to make sure your research isn’t lost or forgotten. The proof it works is right here in my blood.”

* * * *

The council gathered in the mess room, along with the whole of the team that had been ashore and a few observers, including Inez and Naomi, who apparently considered herself the unofficial eighth member of the council. Though she was popular with many of the women, most of the council had come to see her as a busybody. But she usually had smart, difficult questions to ask.

“Mitch,” Ella said. She was chairing this time. She didn’t bother with the gavel. As a lawyer she probably didn’t like them—had probably had one too many judges bang them to shut her up. “Could you give your report, please?”

Mitch stood and cleared his throat. He hated public speaking. But he’d led the mission, so he had to give the report. He took them through it, everything important they’d observed, what they’d brought back, and what they’d been told by Gombrich. That seemed to interest certain members of the council strongly.

“He’s sure they’re thinning out?” Ella asked after the report, taking Mitch up on what Gombrich had said about not seeing as many zombies anymore.

“They are in the area around the museum,” Mitch said. “That’s the only area he can be sure of. And he’s a very effective zombie killer. So the thinning out in the area could be as much down to him as to anything else.”

“But you didn’t see as many of them in other areas, you said?” Ella asked. Mitch wasn’t going to get any BS past a lawyer.

“We didn’t.”

“Could they have moved south for the winter?” Dolores asked. This was followed by a couple of chuckles.

“They’re not birds!” Naomi called, earning a stern look from the chair.

“How do we know whether the cold bothers them or not?” Dolores asked. “We don’t, do we? Doctor?”

“They can’t get frostbite or hypothermia,” Phyllis said. “Theoretically they could freeze solid. But we have no evidence they’re aware of that as a danger or that they do anything to avoid it happening.”

“Anyway,” Alicia said. “California
is
south. They’re in no danger of freezing solid in LA. So if they were fleeing the cold, wouldn’t we see more of them here in California, not fewer?”

Mitch sat, glancing at Cal, who looked a bit bored. Understandable. He’d probably rather be reading or playing board games in the rec room than listening to these arguments.

“I propose we use the shortwave radio,” Ella said. “Ask our contacts to report on their observations of zombie numbers.”

Damn, Mitch had a feeling he knew where this was leading. It was too soon.

“All those folks are just as isolated as us,” Bren said. “The zombie numbers in their areas can’t tell us anything about what’s going on across the whole country.”

“But if
all
of them report a fall in zombie numbers, surely that’s significant,” Alicia said.

“Why doesn’t one of you just come out and say what’s on your mind,” Dolores said. “You’re talking about leaving the rig.”

“We can’t stay here forever,” Ella said.

“It isn’t healthy for the children,” Alicia said.

“It’s a lot healthier than being bitten by zombies,” Bren snapped. “It’s too soon to move.”

“We’re not talking about going
now
,” Ella said. “But we have to start making serious plans.”

She was right; that was the annoying part. Eventually there’d be no more food supplies to gather from on shore. One day they had to get back on land and start growing food and keeping livestock. But not yet.

“Zombie numbers may be falling,” Mitch said. “But they’re not on the endangered list yet. And they aren’t the only danger out there.” He thought of the bandits holding the docks at LA and imagined the women exposed to that danger. The thought made him shudder.

“That’s why we need a plan,” Ella said. “And a safe place we can head directly to. But we have to find it first.”

“Not that expedition idea again,” Dolores said. “Very quick to offer to send other people into danger, aren’t you, dear?” Ella looked like she was regretting not having a gavel after all.

“Hey,” Bren said. “Dolores can’t be the only one who remembers it’s the middle of winter. Even here in California. This is hardly the right time.”

“What about in the spring?” Alicia said. “If they set out in early spring, they’ve got time to find somewhere and get back to lead us there, giving us plenty of time to get set up before the next winter.”

“I for one don’t want to spend three winters on this damn rig,” Ella said. “And have all of you forgotten we were attacked here only a couple of weeks ago? Do any of you think it won’t happen again?”

Cal had lost the bored look and was watching intently. What had him so interested? Mitch spoke up, bringing their attention to him.

“I don’t think we can make any decisions until we speak to the other groups on the radio. We need to know what they are seeing before we decide anything.” That could buy them some time. And even those who favored going sooner, not later, acknowledged they had to wait until spring.

“Are you proposing a motion, Mitch?” Ella asked.

Mitch took a breath and tried to frame his thoughts. “Yes. I propose we contact all the other survivor groups and ask them to report on zombie numbers and other local conditions. After we get the last of those reports we should reconvene.” Cal was frowning at him, Mitch noticed.

“I second that,” Bren said.

“Third,” Dolores said quickly. She probably didn’t much like being on the same side as Mitch, but they happened to agree on this.

“You haven’t forgotten that we’ll be having the next election for the council in three weeks?” Ella asked.

Actually, Mitch had. He’d never needed to campaign; he and Bren were always elected anyway, as the group’s founders. But suddenly the election took on a new importance. Right now, he, Bren, Dolores, and Kathy formed a majority against rushing to leave the rig. Ella and Alicia were for it, and the doctor was kind of a wild card. He wouldn’t put it past her to abstain. She’d do her job anywhere they put her. But what if she favored going ashore where she might be able to get access to facilities and even find other scientists to help her with the vaccine research? If she did, then the pro-going-ashore side just had to get one more of their supporters onto the council. Naomi had only lost by one vote the last time, and she supported Ella and Alicia. The election began to loom very large in Mitch’s mind. Even if it came after their planning meeting, it could reverse whatever they decided.

It might be time to start actually campaigning.