World Memorial (6 page)

"Assuming it is an infection," said Angie.

"It has to be an infection," said Dr. Graham. "It's spread through the saliva to the blood."

"Have you found anything in the corpse saliva? A virus or bacteria of any kind?"

"Well, not as such..."

The wind outside died down. Angie sighed. "Have you found any sort of antibodies in Dalton's blood?"

Dr. Graham swallowed, gesturing around the room. "If I had better equipment..."

"You know, doctor," said Angie. "In the old days, people who called themselves doctors would bleed people for no good reason, assuming it
must
be doing something."

"Mom," said Dalton. "Come on. We have to keep trying."

Angie looked at him and sighed. She turned back to Dr. Graham. "Are you serious about the equipment?"

"Well,” said Dr. Graham, “more equipment would always be better..."

"What do you need?" she said, shifting her weight on her cane. Her ankle throbbed slightly.

"Oh I doubt we have the type of budget for—"

"In the real world, doctor," said Angie. "What would be some simple things that could help? I have to make a supply run soon anyway. Maybe Old West has scavenged something."

Oh, I see," said Dr. Graham. "Well, a better microscope, something stronger with a fully intact lens. New test tubes, maybe a centrifuge..."

"I doubt he has a centrifuge, doctor."

Dr. Graham thought, then shrugged. "Oh right. He probably doesn't."

There was a knock at the door.

Angie looked to Dalton, then back at Dr. Graham. "Still, I'll see what I can do." She turned to the door. "It's open," she called.

The door opened to reveal Maylee. Her face was chapped from cold and her eyes told Angie she'd been fighting. There was a wildness there that took a while to die down. It was not a look Maylee had shown back in the old days. When she had just been Angie’s daughter and corpses stayed in the ground.

"Trouble outside the walls?" said Angie, frowning and trying not to show how much she hated Maylee being on the Guard.
Leader of the Guard
, she told herself. How had she let that happen?

Maylee nodded. "Oh yeah, lots of that. But that's taken care of. That's not why I'm here."

"What is it?"

"We got another one."

Angie took a step toward the door. "Another one? From where?"

Maylee shrugged. "No idea. Just found him wandering in the snow."

"Except he wasn't wandering, was he?" asked Angie.

"No,” Maylee replied, “he was headed straight here."

"He with you?" asked Angie.

"Yep," said Maylee, stepping aside and revealing a small boy, wrapped up in many layers of tattered clothing.

So young,
Angie thought.
Maybe six or seven
. But he wasn't the youngest child to have wandered into World Memorial.

But again, they didn't wander.

The boy looked around the room, first at Dr. Graham, then at Angie.

Angie smiled and beckoned him inside. "Come on. It's warmer in here."

The boy stepped into the building. Maylee followed and shut the door behind her.

Angie knelt to the boy's level, ignoring the pain in her ankle as she did. "How are you feeling?"

"Alright, ma'am," said the boy. His accent showed a backwoods origin. Further out in the trees and hills than Lakewood.

"Please, call me Angie," she said, holding out her hand for the boy to shake. "What's your name?"

The boy smiled and shook her hand. "Zach."

"How far did you come to get here, Zach?" said Angie.

Zach shrugged. He seemed to notice Dalton for the first time. He stared at Dalton for a long time.

Angie changed her line of questioning. She didn't want to upset Zach, but they were all desperate for clues. "Did you see any others on your way here?"

Zach looked back to Angie and shook his head. "No."

"Were you coming here on purpose?"

Zach nodded.
Of course he was
, thought Angie. They all did.

"What happened to your parents?" asked Angie. Zach looked down at the floor. Angie knew better than to have asked, and she felt a pang of guilt for it. These days, the remarkable thing was to see loved ones together and alive, not the other way around.

She changed her line of questions again. "Have you seen this place before?"

Zach started to nod, then stopped. "Sort of."

"What do you mean?"

"I've seen this place when I sleep, ma'am," Zach said. He looked at the floor, then back at Angie. "And heard a voice telling me to come here."

Angie squeezed Zach's hand. She stood, wincing again at the pain when her ankle flexed. "Well, you're here now and we'll do our best to keep you safe, okay?"

Zach nodded. He looked long and hard at Dalton a second time, then down at the floor.

Angie looked to Maylee. Maylee took the cue, and headed for the door.

"Let's go, then," said Angie.

Angie and Maylee led Zach out of the shed and back into the cold. The wind assaulted them and they drew up their clothing as tightly as they could. Dalton followed a ways behind, hurrying to get his coat on as he exited the medical shed. Angie did her best to shield Zach from the wind.

A few people milled around the town. Most were inside, staying out of the cold. Life in the impromptu shelters of World Memorial was easier during warm months. But during the winter, it was a fight not to freeze to death. And this winter the windstorms made it worse.

"Bet it was hard to keep warm," said Angie, trying to keep the tone light and Zach's spirits up. He was quiet, too quiet for a little boy. Then again, she realized, they were all quiet.

"Yes, ma'am, it was," said Zach. "But the voice told me to keep going."

"The voice in your dreams?"

"Yes, ma'am."

They took a few more steps in silence. The snow crunched under their feet.

"I also had to stay ahead of the bad people," Zach continued.

"The dead people?"

"No, ma'am," said Zach. "The other bad people."

Angie said nothing for the moment. They walked in silence for another minute before emerging into the town square. They were almost at their destination, the old farmhouse that Angie and her kids had taken shelter in three years ago. The start of World Memorial.

Dalton stepped ahead of the others and trotted up the porch stairs. He opened the door. Angie watched him move, pained at how pale he looked. They had to find something soon, something usable, or the slow bleeding of Dalton would have to stop.

Dalton held the door open and motioned the others inside. Angie stepped in first, Zach behind her and Maylee walking in last. Dalton followed, closing the door behind him.

Angie looked around the living room. Or, what had once been the living room. All the furniture was gone, long since moved elsewhere or broken down for firewood. Cots, mats and blankets were laid out everywhere. Each room in the house was like this. Several families were crammed into each room.

A set of wooden stairs led up to an open landing and a second floor. This floor held the master bedroom where Angie, Maylee and Dalton lived. Two other families slept in there with them. At one point they had lived elsewhere in the house. But as more and more people came, those there before pushed closer together to make room. Eventually there was no room and construction of the town outside began.

The living room, the largest room, was where most of the children lived. Dozens of them, all looking up from their cots and blankets as Angie and the others entered the room. Battered toys and games, all scavenged from Lakewood and surrounding houses, sat around them. In one corner, next to a large old fireplace stood Mikella and Rhia, two women who volunteered to care for the children. Mikella was older, with long grey hair pulled into a ponytail. Rhia was younger and looked constantly sad. They were closing the lid over a large iron pit slung over the fireplace.

"Here we go," said Angie to Zach. "It's not much but better than stumbling around in the snow, huh?" She chuckled, again trying to lighten the little boy's mood.

"Yes, ma'am." said Zach, showing no sign of mirth.

Angie turned her attention to the children set around the room. "Hey guys," she said, smiling. "Everyone doing okay?"

The children nodded. One, a young girl of six named Lilly, flipped her off. Lilly was always doing that.

"Did you guys eat, Lilly?" said Angie.

"That was food?" said Lilly. "I thought you all just took shits on plates." Several of the other children, the newer ones, looked shocked. The others didn't. Lilly had been one of the first, and the few things she'd shared about her past explained her aggression. Angie just smiled at her. She could smell food and was glad they'd been fed. Glad that in spite of everything, she and the others still had enough food to feed a group of lost children.

But they aren't lost, are they?Every one of these kids came here on purpose
.

"Good," said Angie. "I hope you guys saved some food for our newest arrival."

Zach looked around the room at the other children. He gasped, taking a step back.

Angie turned and looked down at Zach. For the first time since he'd arrived, they boy's face showed an honest emotion: Fear.

"What is it?" said Angie.

Zach blinked and looked at her. "The bad people I told you about?"

"Yes?" said Angie.

"They chased me for a long time. They said they wanted me to come with them. But the lady in my dreams warned me so I ran."

Zach was speaking rapidly, backing up as he did. Angie knelt, balancing on her cane, and held out her hand. "Don't be scared. It's okay."

"It's
not
okay," said Zach, almost spitting out the second word. "They'll come. The bad people will come. They have pictures of me. Drawings. Of me and all of them." Zach pointed at the children in the room, continuing to back up.

"What?" said Angie, frowning.

"They had pictures," said Zach, taking steps backward. "They chased me for a long time. They want all of us."

He stopped as he collided with Dalton. Dalton had stepped as far backward as he could, pressed up against the door.

"Whoa, dude," said Dalton, reaching out to stop Zach. "Watch out."

Zach turned to Dalton. He pointed up at Dalton, his eyes wide.

"Him too," said Zach.

Both Angie and Maylee frowned. "What?" Angie repeated.

"They have a picture of him too. The bad people are coming for him too."

Zach turned to look Angie in the eyes.

"The bad people are coming for us."

Park trudged through the snow, tracing a winding path around trees and rocks. His rifle bounced on his left shoulder. A backpack of food hung from his right. He hoped he was right about where he was going. If not, he would be dead in a week. It was too cold to play games or be wrong.

He looked at the sky. It was maybe late morning, but the weather made it hard to tell these days.

He swore under his breath as he started up a steep hill. He'd never been much for travelling on foot, and he wished he'd had more time to pick an easier path.

"Who the fuck am I kidding?" muttered Park to himself. "Nothing but hills around here. Shitting hills that lead to other hills." In the last few years, Park had taken to talking to himself. He wondered if it meant he was crazy. He also wondered if he cared.

He drew near two frozen trees. Frozen branches hung low, blocking his path. Not wanting to bother with going around, he pushed his way through. Ice snapped and fell around him.

As he stepped past the trees, a groan came from his left.

He turned to see a man with a deep split running down the center of his face. Frozen pus coated his cheeks and chin. The man groaned and reached for Park.

"Whoa there buddy," said Park, stepping back. He slid the rifle off his shoulder. "Hold on a second. Got something for you."

Park took another step back, resting the butt of the rifle on the ground and slipping the strap off his arm. Cold arms closed around his shoulders from behind. A woman hissed in his ear.

"And shit," said Park. The woman leaned forward, opening her mouth to bite his cheek. Park dropped to his knees, slipping from her grasp.

The man bent over, still reaching for him. His frozen fingers creaked next to Park's ear.

"I said to hold on, fuckdamit," said Park. The gun still rested on its butt in front of him. Park put his thumb in the trigger and pushed downward.

The gun fired, blasting through the man's chin and out the top of his head. The man jerked, thick black glop raining down onto the snow. Several drops spattered Park as the man toppled over.

"See," said Park. "Told you I had something."

The woman hissed behind him and bent down, grabbing at his shoulder. Park rolled to one side. As he moved, he felt the woman's hand close on the strap of his backpack. When he spun, she spun with him. They both landed on their backs in the snow.

Park whipped his head over to look at her. She had no eyes. Ice and snow were caked in the sockets. She started to sit up, leaning toward him and groaning.

Park still had his right hand on the rifle. He spun it around, arcing over his body and slamming the butt down on her head. Her skull rammed back down into the snow, a dark split in her forehead. Park climbed to his feet, slipping his shoulder out of his backpack. Her frozen hand still clutched the strap.

She hissed up at him, gargling in the dark liquid oozing from her forehead and running down her face.

"Yeah yeah yeah," said Park, turning the gun around to point down at her. He fired into her forehead. The bullet thudded into the split he'd made. She jerked as dark goo sprayed onto the snow behind her.

He panted, wiping dark gore from his face and chest. "Well, that was fun." He knelt to retrieve his backpack and slung it over his shoulder. "Too bad there was no one around to watch."

He straightened, slipping his rifle back over his other shoulder. He heard something in the trees behind him and spun, looking.