Contagious (18 page)

Deciding to not drive on the highways again, we detoured through town. I closed my eyes, enjoying the heat blowing on my feet. The Range Rover slowed, jerking me back to reality. I looked around, trying to discern the reason for stopping.

“
What are you doing?” I asked.

“
It’s a stop sign, Rissy,” she said, looking at me like I was crazy.

“
Ray, it’s ok to blow through stop signs.”

“
Oh, right.” She pressed the gas pedal. “If a zombie cop pulls me over, you are so paying the ticket.” She grinned and we both laughed.

“
You girls have an odd sense of humor,” Padraic observed. I shrugged, knowing it to be true. I closed my eyes and sighed.

“
Go to sleep, Orissa,” Raeya said quietly. “I know you’re tired.”

“
I’m fine.”

“
You are such a liar.”

I felt safe while we were moving. It didn’t take long before I drifted to sleep. We stopped once more for a quick pit stop. It was dark now, so no one wanted to be out of the car for longer than necessary. Two hours, Raeya calculated, and we would be there.

I was feeling sleepy again. The car was warm and I was as comfortable as I was going to get. No one spoke, leaving me to believe they had drifted to sleep as well. I closed my eyes, resting my head against the cool glass.

“
Rissy!” Raeya hissed, shaking me. “Rissy!”

“
Huh?”

“
Look!”

In the distance, a set of headlights grew bigger and bigger. “People!”

I jolted awake. “Oh my God, you’re right!”
“People!” she repeated. “In a car!”

Sonja stirred. “What’s going on?”

“
There are people! Look!” Raeya said excitedly.

Sonja elbowed Jason. “Jason! There’s a car up ahead!” Padraic and Spencer had come to consciousness now, and they were thrilled to see signs of life.

The car wasn’t moving. The people driving were probably just as excited to come across us as we were to see them. Raeya turned the brights off when we were a few feet away. A shadowy figure got out of the pickup. I rolled down my window and leaned out.

The man held his hand up, blinded by the headlights. Argos growled. Padraic held him back, not wanting him to scare off the only human we’d seen in over a hundred miles. Leaving my bag in the car, I eagerly got out, temporarily forgetting my pain.

“
Hi!” I gushed. Nothing logical flowed into my brain at the moment. “I-I’m so glad we’re not the only ones alive!” The man nodded, looking from me to the car. He looked shocked to see so many people alive. I moved around, extending my hand in a businesslike fashion. “I’m Orissa. There are ten of us.”

He held out his hand, a sharp machete limply held in his fingers. He cocked his head, examining me. My blood ran cold, tensing every muscle. A nasty, infected bite wound festered on his neck. I didn’t even have time to scream. The machete sparkled in the headlights before it came slicing down.

I ducked, barely missing the blade. I dropped to my knees, reopening the gash on my hand as I madly crawled away. “GO!” I shouted to Raeya. Confused, the crazy looked for me. I made it to his truck, slamming the door and hitting the lock button. He grabbed the handle, jerking on the door so hard the truck shook. I shifted the car into ‘drive’ and slammed on the gas, speeding past the Range Rover and Camaro, pulling a squealing U-turn. I plowed right into the crazy. He clanked against the hood before getting sucked under. Even though he was a day or two away from not being human, it was revolting to feel the truck bump over his body. I let off the gas, my body shaking from the close encounter.

“
Can’t I fucking catch a break?” I asked myself. Something moved in the back seat. I looked into the review mirror, complete terror rapidly paralyzing my body. The zombie stiffly sat up, dumbly reaching for me. I screamed and slammed on the breaks. The truck swerved, veering off the road and into a drainage ditch. Since I hadn’t bothered to put a seat belt on, I flew forward, cracking my head on the windshield.

-Chapter 7-

I frantically pulled on the door handle. The zombie had been tossed forward too. He growled and groaned, his rotting face inches from my body. Finally, the door opened and I fell out of the truck, hitting my knees on something sharp. I grabbed handfuls of dried grass, trying to pull myself out of the way. The zombie toppled out of the truck.

Somehow I forced myself upright. Blood dripped in my eye. I fell as I tried to make it up the ditch to the road. The zombie had my foot, trying to get his mouth on my skin. I kicked, screaming. I didn’t see her coming. But she was there, standing over the zombie. She hit him on the head once, twice, three times before he let me go.

“
Why won’t you die?!” Raeya yelled, striking the zombie on the head with her tennis racket. Argos jumped on the zombie, fangs tearing into his leg, easily ripping off the rotting flesh. Hands slipped under my arms. I screamed and jerked away before realizing it was Padraic. He pulled me back. I kicked my feet, trying to get them to work. Once I was on the road, he released me, raising the gun.

“
No,” I tried to yell. My voice had no volume. “No,” I repeated. He was a bad shot and Raeya was there. “Ray!” I attempted to shout. She heard, and after one more whack over the head, she ran up the embankment to us. Padraic put his arm around me, helping me to the car. He whistled, calling Argos. The dog didn’t listen. I took the gun from Padraic, exhaled, aimed, and blew the zombie’s brains out. When it stopped moving, the dog rejoined us.

As we tore down the country road, I became aware my head was bleeding. I reached up, wincing as my fingers grazed the fresh cut above my left eye. It was a jumble of chaos and body parts, but I made it to the back. Padraic turned the overhead light on and inspected the cut.

“
You’ll be ok,” he told me and set to work on cleaning it up. Sonja had taken my front seat, leaving a spot for Argos in between Jason and Spencer. The dog sat, stretching his blood and flesh covered paws across the boys. I started shivering, from fear, cold, or blood loss, I didn’t know. Padraic unfolded the blanket he had been using as a cushion and draped it around my shoulders. I wrapped it tightly around myself, unable to stop shivering.

Raeya was forced to slow down as the road began to wind. We were only an hour away. The lights shining in on us from the Camaro were blinding. Looking out the back gave me an instant headache and I felt like I was going to puke. I closed my eyes, unaware that I was slowly falling to the side until I rested on Padraic’s shoulder. I startled back to reality.

“
Thanks for helping back there,” I told him. “And Raeya, you totally had the game point. Thanks.”

“
I was so scared, Rissy,” she said, looking back at me quickly. “So I did what I thought you would do.”

“
You thought I’d hit a zombie with a tennis racket?”

“
Not exactly. But you would do something.”

“
Yeah,” I agreed, nausea worsening. I closed my eyes again, leaning against the backseat. The SUV rounded a curvy hill. A curvy hill that was very familiar. This incline used to excite me as a child. It marked the start of my countdown. How much time had passed? Had I fallen asleep?

“
Raeya,” I spoke, my voice hoarse. “Sorry it took me so long to thank you for saving me. You too, Padraic.”

“
You already thanked me,” Padraic said, sounding concerned.

“
I did?”

“
Yeah.”

“
Oh, I don’t remember.” My eyes were heavy, so heavy. They closed on their own accord.

“
Orissa,” Padraic said, loudly. He put his hands on my shoulders and gave me a gentle shake.

“
Yeah?”

“
You have a concussion.”

“
I do?”

“
I’m pretty sure.”

“
Oh. Why?”

I heard Raeya whimper something incoherent. “Do you remember what happened?” she asked, her voice full of worry.

My brain was black for a second. Black and blank. It would have been nice to have it stay that way. Then I remembered the headlights, the hope in my heart when I thought we had stumbled upon another living soul. He was crazy and had a pet zombie stashed in his car.

“
I hit my head on the windshield.”

Padraic said, “Yeah, definitely concussed.”

“
No, I remembered.”

“
It took you almost a minute to recall that.”

“
No it didn’t,” I insisted.

“
Yeah, it did,” Raeya hesitantly agreed. “Will she be ok?”

“
Probably,” Padraic answered, running a hand through his hair. “Orissa, other than your head hurting, how do you feel?”

“
Tired. And sick. I feel like I’m gonna puke.” The more I thought about it, the worse I felt. “Actually, I am gonna puke. Can you pull over?”

I barely made it out of the car before everything came up, burning my throat and nose. The rush of blood from leaning over made me dizzy, increasing my nausea three fold. This fucking sucked. Raeya held back my hair with one hand while the other gently rubbed my back. If I wasn’t so disgusting, I would have hugged her and told her she was the best friend in the whole damn world. I slumped against the Range Rover, annoyed that Padraic carried me into the back. I rested my head against his chest. He tried to get me to drink a little bit of water. It felt good to wash the taste of vomit away.

“
You can close your eyes but I’m going to wake you up every few minutes, ok?” he said quietly. I mumbled a response and got sucked into unconsciousness. True to his word, Padraic whispered my name and squeezed my hand ten minutes later. I grunted and swatted his hand away. I remember him laughing, telling Raeya I was ok before passing out again. He woke me up once more, saying he needed to be sure I could be roused normally. My fuzzy brain thought he said ‘aroused’ at first and I tried to say something catty back. I failed, muttering something even I couldn’t make sense of.

The next time I woke up, the glorious site of my grandparents’ farmhouse was in front of me. My head hurt like hell, not to mention the rest of my body, but I was able to wake up. The house was still standing, for one. Two, there were no zombies in sight. And three, my grandpa had taken extra measures to protect the house. I groggily got out of the car, telling Argos to look for danger. I took a long drink of water and inhaled the cold night air, feeling a little more awake. The headlights from both the SUV and the sports car illuminated the white house. I slung my bag over my shoulder, taking the gun in my hand.

The pig iron bars from the horse stalls had been removed and nailed over the downstairs windows, making the house appear like a jail. It was brilliant. My feet shuffled up the wooden porch stairs, which still creaked and groaned just like before. I ran my hand over the bars. They had been expertly attached; no one could pull the bars off and get into the house.

No lights were on inside, and I willed myself not to let that upset me. I hadn’t
really
expected my grandpa to still be here. The front door had been reinforced. Leaving the car running, Raeya joined me. She put her hand in mine, knowing my worst fear. She had already retrieved the hide-a-key. I gripped her fingers tightly as she pushed open the door.

The smell of death didn’t hit us.

“
Grandpa?” I called. We waited, neither dared breathe. When nothing responded, we sent Argos through. He didn’t snarl, bark or growl. “The coast is clear!” I called. “Bring the stuff in,” I suggested to Raeya. “I’m gonna fire up the generator. Well, I’m going to try it. Who knows if it will work.”

It was running low on fuel, but it started. The house came to life with lights. Though the brightness still hurt my concussed head, it was a beautiful sight. The soft yellow glow spilled out to the yard, casting funny shadows due to the bars on the windows. I walked along the wraparound porch. Everything was quiet and still, like it used to be, like it should be. I paused before the front door, looking inside at the worn, wooden floors. With a deep breath, I crossed the threshold.

Suddenly, I was eleven-years-old again, walking through the front door of my grandparent’s house. It was two summers after my parents’ divorce. I remember my grandmother crying when she found out about how I had to take care of my drunken mother. My grandpa was angry; angry at my mother and angry at himself. He shouldered some of the blame, saying if only he had been home more, things might have turned out differently.

I missed my mother. I was so excited to see her again, though I had nightmares about her stumbling around the house with a glass bottle in her hand, passing out on the floor. How many times had I sat by her, crying, not sure if she would ever wake up? I knew she missed me too. I was more than her drink mixer, really, I had to be. I was her daughter. My grandparents said they wouldn’t let me back unless she cleaned up her act. And it had been a whole summer. Surely she missed me enough by now to change.

And she had. She turned completely around. Our house was now clean, even redecorated in bright colors, and rid of all liquor. I remember that moment so well, one I thought I would cherish in my heart forever. The old pickup truck rolled to a stop. My mother flew down the driveway to hug me. Her hair was curled and smelled like lavender. Her eyes—aquamarine like mine—sparkled. She had changed.

Just not for me.

It was Ted who turned her life around. He pulled her out of the darkness in just two months. I spent two years taking care of her, bringing her drinks, cleaning her vomit, cooking us dinner, attending to her every need. It wasn’t enough. I couldn’t make her happy, couldn’t make her smile, couldn’t make her see that I still loved her and desperately wanted her to love me back.