Pulse (20 page)

Chelsea typed on her phone again and tilted the screen toward Dom.

There are handcuffs on the door. Blood in the front seat

What had Dom done? How could he have gotten them into such a terrible situation again? He’d just gotten Chelsea back and now he put her life in danger. Was it the confusion of being pushed into the theater room that made him ignore the obvious?

The inclination to blame the military popped into his mind; they should’ve checked the refugees harder. The very thing they wanted to prevent happened.

When Adam started talking about rape and blood, Dom knew he had to do something. They took turns on her phone, discreetly typing to one another.

Did they take your gun?

No

Get it out. Slowly

Chelsea did. Dom held his breath, waiting for Adam to notice they were doing something in the back seat, but Adam seemed to be unaware of their presence even though he spoke of wearing Dom’s skin and doings things to Chelsea that made him want to vomit.

She passed the gun to him. He raised it to Adam’s head, hoping the man had enough sense to save his life to pull over instead of wrecking them.

“Pull over.”

A heaviness swept over the car. Dom made eye contact in the mirror and repeated the command, but Adam didn’t move. All he heard was the car and everyone’s breath.

“You don’t understand. I have work to do.”

“What—shut up. Just shut up and pull over.”

“Please, Dom. I know this looks strange, but—”

“Don’t say my name! I swear I will pull this trigger and splatter your brains on the windshield.”

He grinned. “Would you? Would you risk the blood and brain getting on you and your pretty fucking little whore? It would get inside of you because it’s inside of
me
. And you’d die because the car would flip-flippity-flip right off the road when I lose control.”

Adam rattled off another string of words, but Dom couldn’t make out what he was saying.

“Chelsea, pull your hood on. Get something out of your bag and cover your face.”

“What?”

Dom’s hand shook as he pressed the gun into Adam’s head. “I said cover up. I’m going to shoot him. I don’t want any blood to get on us.”

The car began slowing down. Adam appeared to be unhappy with Dom’s decision. It made Dom feel hopeful, since it was a bluff. He wouldn’t shoot Adam, because he was right. They were going over 70 mph. Even if both of them were covered head to toe in a hazmat suit, they’d likely die when Adam lost control.

“I want you to listen to me, please. Listen, and when I’m done I’ll stop the car and let you out. If you still want to.”

Dom glanced at Chelsea. She’d tightened her hood and wore a scarf around her nose and mouth. Her eyes glittered with tears and fear. She gave him one curt nod.

“Fine. Start talking.”

“I know it’s hard for you to understand what it’s like—having the parasite inside of you. But it isn’t as bad as you think. It’s helping me think clearer, clearer than I have in
years.
I think it’s a potentially glorious next step in the evolution of humans.”

Adam spoke with energetic sincerity. His pinky fingers tapped the steering wheel in rapid succession. He licked his lip, a dribble of bile seeping from it down his chin.

“I have a background in biochemistry, you see, and I’m going to find a few likeminded individuals to help tweak some of
Anisakis Nova
’s genetics…the clarity…can’t lose the fucking clarity…”

He trailed off into another string of babbles.
Some of it sounded like genuine scientific terms, but some weren’t words at all.

Then they all honed in on the infected bumbling down the highway straight towards them, its stomach pointed forward and head lolled back.

Adam slammed on the brakes, but it was too late. The car hit the woman at almost top speed, sending her against the windshield and over the car. Fireworks of blood, entrails, and worms burst across the windshield. He jerked the steering wheel to the right. The car spun out of control, spinning wildly down the road.

Chelsea was screaming. Dom was too, holding onto the headrest of the passenger seat as the world blurred around them. Adam’s head hung downward, his body moving in time with the motion of the car.

The momentum of the spin petered out. Dom heard his own labored breathing and the ticking of the engine. He smelled burnt rubber. Something warm was seeping into his eye. He blinked away blood from a gash on his right temple.

“Chels…Chelsea?” She was leaning against the door; the only thing keeping her up was her seatbelt. Dom gently took her chin and tilted her head towards him. She was breathing. Her eyes fluttered open, gazing first at Dom then to the front of the car.

Adam hadn’t been wearing a seatbelt. His body had been thrown to the passenger side of the car. He wasn’t moving, but Dom saw his torso rising and falling with his breath.

“We need to go. Now.” Dom clicked his own buckle free, glad the habit to strap in stuck with him even in the chaotic moment when they’d first entered the car. “Can you walk? Are you okay?”

Chelsea nodded, but winced and brought her hand to her neck. She slowly straightened her body and opened the door.

That was all the confirmation he needed. Dom averted his attention to finding the gun, which had flown out of his hands during the wreck. It wasn’t anywhere in the back seat. He leaned forward and looked around the front.

There, as far away as it could be, the gun was wedged in the left side of the dashboard. Adam groaned, his body twitching. Dom would have to lean over him to get it.

“Come on, let’s go!” Chelsea was completely out of the car, looking in at him expectantly. Then in an instant she was gone. Dom watched in horror as an infected barreled into her, knocking her into the ground.

Any hesitation of getting the gun vanished. He dove forward, over Adam’s body, kicking the backseat for momentum. His hand brushed against the gun. He stretched farther. The metal was still warm from his grip only moments before.

Dom scrambled out of the car. Chelsea was doing her best to hold the man at bay, but he flailed at her wildly. Dom kicked his side, knocking him off her and rolling onto the ground.

Pop.

The bullet went into his neck. Blood spurted everywhere. Chelsea turned onto her side just as a jet of it hit her.

Dom took aim again and squeezed. This time the bullet went straight through the infected man’s head, brains painting the road behind him as his body collapsed.

“Fuck! Fuck, it’s on me!”

Chelsea tore off her backpack and jacket, wiping away at the stray flecks of blood on her skin. As Dom stepped forward to help her, he heard something rustle behind him.

The passenger door was ajar. Adam was gone, running opposite them into the forest on the other side of the road. He raised his gun and took aim, firing a round off before the gun went dry, the bullet not even grazing Adam.

If he wants to run away, let him.

Dom turned and helped Chelsea clean the blood off as best as he could. They needed to find somewhere safe to rest, to get their sanitary wipes out of the packs, to gather themselves, to make a plan...

Dom didn’t realize his hands were shaking until Chelsea took them into hers. “We’re going to be okay.”

Those little words, simple and promising, calmed him. And in that moment, he believed her.

Barry Weinstein had no qualm in admitting he didn’t come back to work because he was afraid. He was surprised anybody
did
come to work. It seemed pretty obvious that it was the End of Days, the Apocalypse, Judgment Day. No one should have to do anything when the shit hits the fan, he told himself. He felt sorry for the schmucks who were still dragging themselves in at 8am for the daily grind.

Not Barry.
He was a smart guy. He’d won patents and awards, was the favorite among all the upper bureaucrats at work. As soon as he realized holing up in his house increased his chances of surviving, the thought of going back to work was a joke. Barry had it all.

Well, he had everything but
courage. He admitted his colleagues risking their safety was courageous; a little part of him wished he could be like that, too.

Since the day he left work he spent his time buying as much food and supplies as he could fit in his car, hauling it back to his modest suburban home, and hiding it throughout the house. He boarded up the windows—he was the first to do it in the neighborhood, starting a trend—and once he felt it was too dangerous to leave his home, he stayed inside.

Inside the dark, lonely, boarded up house.

He thought it would be kind of fun, like some morbid staycation. But he couldn’t help checking his work email, where he saw slews of messages going back and forth between his fellow scientists. The live hosts coming in, the emergency break, and then…

Dr. Ainsworth’s voicemail.

In the middle of blending his third pitcher of frozen margaritas that day, he didn’t hear his cellphone ring. No one had called him in days, and had he heard it, he would’ve answered. He would’ve told Marla to be strong, that he would call the police. He would’ve made all th
e false promises he needed to if it made her feel safe.

But he didn’t. Instead, he settled into his favorite chair with
his margarita, not even realizing he had a message until after he watched
The Matrix
for the second time and absentmindedly checked his phone.

I found a cure…

His head swam.

Baker has me hostage, he’s infected…

He leaned over his chair and threw his margaritas up right back into the blender.

It took him ten minutes of breathing deeply, staring at his own feet before he picked up the phone and called every form of authority he possibly could, the words, “There’s a cure,” waiting to escape his lips.

Adam was furious. The rage was almost blinding in its intensity. He cursed at every branch that hit his face during his escape into the forest. His shoes and pants were caked with mud by the time he finally stopped to take a deep breath.

That fucking imbecile, that whore!

He had high hopes for them both. How dare they betray him? How dare they try and stop him from doing what the world needed? What was right? They had almost killed him. He heard the bullet thud as it hit a tree beside him. They could’ve ended him.

It was obvious he had to pick his allies more carefully. First Marla, then the couple. Adam was inclined to think it was because they weren’t infected yet. If they were, he knew they’d see things his way.
It was impossible to deny the urges and strength the parasite created once it coursed inside your body.

He made a note
to infect all future potential friends, or only befriend them to begin with. Yet the problem was each infected had a variety of dispositions. Some were exploders, others too insane to reason with. It might be a challenge to find the right mix. A challenge, but not impossible.

Adam looked around him. Nothing but pine trees and ferns as far as he could see. He finally realiz
ed he had no idea where he was, let alone what direction he’d been traveling in. The sun was almost gone, sending the forest into an eerie, quiet state of twilight.

What a disaster. Fucking disaster. Dis-fucking-aster…

“Get it together!” the power in his voice sent a chill through his body. He began walking, ignoring fatigue and hunger. He would get to where he needed to go. There was no other option.

The future rest
ed on him. All the millions of infected roaming the country, uncoordinated and fighting the battle for supremacy; they needed a leader. They needed someone on their side who could make them stronger. Someone who could direct their efforts.

Each of them was a beat
in the pulse of a new dominant species. Soon, the entire world would be united by the parasite.

Soon, they would be One.

Since the infection started, Dom had been waiting. He was waiting to be saved. For it to all go way. To escape. To give up. To die.

But now that he stood a chance of making it—now that he was away from the chaos of the world he knew collapsing into nothing—he was numb.

This was only the beginning. There wasn’t a doubt in his mind that the parasite was crossing the seas, if it hadn’t already, and would soon dominate the entire world. How humanity existed would change forever. Whatever mattered before, whatever he worried about or looked forward to...

Dom glanced at Chelsea, passed out from exhaustion. The meager campfire they managed to start cast shadows and light across her sleeping body. Her face, smeared with dirt and sweat, was serene. At peace.

A bit of warmth flickered within him.

Whatever mattered before
still
did. He still loved her, more than ever after what they’d been through. Whatever
this
was, they could do it. They escaped their apartment, the evacuation zone, and Adam. After a day hiking through the forest, sticking close to roads, they’d managed to survive without too many hardships.