My Dead World (9 page)

In the middle of all that was happening, my father’s words to me mirrored that of my brother Bobby’s.

“Grow up.”

Being told that twice within a week made me question my maturity on things.

Bobby was referring to my optimistic outlook on the infected, and my father was referring to the fact that Lev was going to drive me back to the cabin.

“I have some things I need to discuss with Boswick,” my father said. “Cade is busy here. We won’t be long. Lev will work on the fence.”

“I don’t want to ride with him.”

“Too bad. He can fix that fence. Our security is their security should they need to retreat to our property.”

“I hate him.”

“Grow up.”

Okay then, enough said. I would bring Lev back to the cabin. But before I left, I took time to talk to Cade about what Lev told me.

“Before he turns completely, would we be wrong for doing that?” I asked.

“Your brother said there is no cure. Remember Julie, do you want him to end up like my sister?”

“No.” I shook my head. “But how would we do it? Can we?”

“Actually, yeah … we can. When we were at the vet I grabbed a small case of sodium pentobarbital. Which is used to euthanize animals. I was just talking to Boswick about it.”

“You’re gonna euthanize these people?”

“Not unless their families request it.”

“How does it work?” I asked.

“It knocks them out and then they die peacefully.”

I lowered my head.

“You don’t need to make a decision now. But if you want to go that route, it will have to be soon,” Cade said. “Once he turns, we won’t be able to get close enough to inject him. Not without risk.”

I understood. I promised him and myself I would make a final decision. I knew perpetuating the situation was not the right thing to do. The longer I waited, the more chance there was that Paul would attack someone or it would be difficult to deal with him. There was also the option of leaving him in that room until he died. Then again, which route was the most humane, the best for him? Whatever I decided one thing was clear, I needed to speak to the girls.

Lev grabbed that obnoxious ‘home improvement’ tool belt he said he needed and we drove in his pickup truck to our cabin. We didn’t speak much; there wasn’t anything I really wanted to say to him. Lev knew Lisa but he didn’t know the girls. I figured his presence could be explained to them simply by saying, “Cade and Pappy had to help his dad so he’s helping us.”

When we arrived back at the cabin, Lev went immediately to the side of the cabin and started on the barbed wire. I went in the front door.

The cabin clearly had been ‘kid-a-fied’, Katie’s little figurines were scattered on the floor. Colorful hand size horses with rainbow hair. Tiny princess dolls were set up. I could only image the world she created. Katie was my toy child. She loved toys, especially dolls and figurines. Addy was more of a clothes, make up and puzzle person.

I picked up the toys as I stepped in. Across the room, in the kitchen area, Lisa and Addy were at the table peeling apples.

“Hey,” I said. “Apples?” I walked over and kissed Addy.

“The older ones from last week,” Lisa answered. “We’re gonna make applesauce and can it. Why is Lev Boswick outside?”

“He drove me back and is gonna work on the fence while dad and Cade help at Big Bear, they have a lot of sick people.”

“Aw, that’s terrible. I bet the drive was awkward.”

“Quiet. Very quiet. Where’s Katie?”

“She was playing and then she said she needed a nap,” Lisa replied.

“She’s not sick is she?” I panicked.

“No, she said she was tired. She was up early.”

I nodded. “I’ll check on her.”

“She’s on your bed. She may still be awake, she just went back there.”

I thanked her again, started to walk back and again, I stopped. “Paul?”

“I heard him a little bit ago, moving about. Not … banging though. Just moving.”

That was good to hear, especially since Paul hadn’t had another violent episode. He was technically still sedated. The cabin was calm, which made it hard to believe that so much horrible stuff was happening.

I walked into my bedroom area and sure enough, Katie was on my bed. At first I thought she was faking sleep, her eyes fluttered, but she was still. A little breeze seeped in the window and I grabbed a blanket, bringing it up over my daughter.

It was the middle of the day and it worried me that she was sleeping. Just as I leaned down to kiss her, I immediately panicked. My heart dropped to my legs causing them to shake. I was actually fearful. What if I pressed my lips to her head and she was fevered? It was like the one time she hit her head and I was scared to feel for a lump. Did I want to face that? Before kissing her I rationalized. It wasn’t airborne. She hadn’t touched her father at all, let alone been close to him since we got out of the car.

Taking a deep breath of courage, I leaned down.

Cool.

With my lips firmly planted to her forehead, I breathed out, then whispered, “I love you.”

She groaned softly and turned her head. Lisa and Addy were busy, and with Katie sleeping, having the talk with them was out. I still had to sort things out.

I decided that I would work on the garden. Get the vegetables planted. It was a little early, but I didn’t think prepping the ground would hurt. Plus, gardening always was mindless for me and helped me clear my head.

I had planted vegetables in the garden every year since I was ten.

“Carrots?” Lisa asked, when she saw me retrieving the gardening basket from under the sink. “Is that what you’re planting? They usually will survive and thrive even if we get frost.”

“I’m just … getting the area ready,” I replied.

“Let me know if you need help.”

“I’ll be fine.” I left the kitchen, but before leaving the cabin, I softly walked down the small hall to the sewing room. Leaning toward the door, I placed my ear close to listen.

It was quiet. No sounds.

Paul was probably sleeping.

My garden area was located on the side of the house. A patch about eight feet long. The soil was always good there, and it was near the fence. Rarely did animals get to it. It was on the same side of the cabin as the sewing room window. I would be able to hear if Paul woke and started thrashing again.

Plus, Lev was on the other side working on the fence, I wouldn’t have to look or talk to him.

“Grow up, Niles,”
I heard my father say in my mind. That made me smile.

I set down the basket, took my kneeling position on the ground, and pulled out the gloves. I placed them on and grabbed the trowel, setting in on the ground.

Weeds first.

There weren’t many, little ones that irritated me. While pulling them, my mind wandered as it always did and not on the course, it should have. I was out there, maybe five minutes, when I realized I should have pulled my hair back. Leaning forward, my longer bangs fell in my face. Annoyed, I lifted my hand to push them back and that was when I saw it. I hadn’t before.

The screen from the sewing room window was on the ground. I felt my face get flush, my heart raced and my mind just spun with reasoning.

It fell off, was my first thought, then I remembered Lisa saying that Paul was quiet. Had he left? Escaped the house because he knew he was sick?  Slowly, I stood up and when I did, with a standing view, I saw that the screen was ripped. Blood stained and ripped.

Instinctively, I spun around to look. He wasn’t there. Turning back to his window, I didn’t see him. I kept my focus ahead and to prepare, I crouched down and lifted the trowel. I gripped it tight in my hands, hating the fact that I was preparing to use it as a weapon.

Why was I suddenly fearful?

Maybe it was like I originally thought, Paul had left.

Baby steps. Tiny soft steps.

Where was he?

Paul wasn’t on the other side of the house, he couldn’t be, Lev would have seen him, unless he attacked Lev.

Oh, God
, I immediately panicked.
He went in the house. He went in the house through the back door
.

In some sort of rush to help or even prepare my family, I took a lunging step forward and when I did, I stopped cold in my tracks.

Paul emerged from around the building.

Why hadn’t I smelt him? As soon as he was in my sight, a foul aroma blasted me along with the startling sight of him.

The restraints were still on his wrists, the bandage over his bite was gone and the injury had become a huge gaping hole.

Both his arms were purplish black and his skin looked dead, except his face. It was splotched and discolored, red and purple in some areas. His mouth was partly open and blood seeped from his mouth like drool on a teething baby.

He tilted his head and looked at me.

Stared at me, in fact. Eyes locked on me.

My hands held tight to the trowel, holding it up in front of me. I wasn’t going to do anything. He wasn’t moving.

Did he know me? Was I right, the infected bodies were vessels for the person, trapping who they were beneath the disease. I swore he looked at me with begging eyes, trying to convey to me to help him.

Then I remembered that stance. Julie, Cade’s sister, held that stance. Arms down, but slightly outward in an almost ready mode. His body bent forward and he watched me with recognition.

It dawned on me he wasn’t trying to recognize me, like Julie, he was sizing me up. The second that reality snapped into my mind, Paul lunged at me.

In my mind I was brave, I was ready, I could do it, I could plunge the trowel into him. But he was faster than I expected and before I could defend myself he grabbed on to me and the force of his body sailed me backwards.

It happened so fast but before we both hit the ground, I saw the blur of an arm, heard the sound of a crack and watched as Paul flew sideways with such a force he slammed into the fence and fell lifeless to the ground.

My mouth opened, I felt the scream seep up my chest, however, just as it was about to emerge, Lev’s hand covered my mouth and he pulled me back to him.

“Don’t,” he whispered from behind me. “The girls can’t see this. It’s their father.”

I nodded, my entire being trembled.

He lowered his hand. I turned and looked at him. Lev held a hammer, he obviously used it to bludgeon Paul.

Despite the fact that it hadn’t served its defensive purpose, I still clutched that trowel in my hand. Paul was on the ground, his back against the fence, legs crossed over each other.

I took a step.

“Don’t touch him,” Lev said softly. “I know you want to. Don’t touch him.”

Dropping the trowel, I moved toward Paul, when I did, he opened his eyes and sat up quickly and robotically.

The hit to the head hadn’t killed him. How was that possible?

Was the brain so infected that he failed to feel any pain at all?

As if he weren’t even injured and unfazed by the strike, Paul got up again but didn’t have a chance to attack. Lev swung out the hammer once more, only this time, he brought the hammer down, claw end first to the top of Paul’s head and it didn’t just hit him, it impaled him.

Paul dropped.

My husband was dead.

I knew it, saw it and felt it.

An internal cyclone sucked all of the air from my body, my face tensed up, jaw dropped and the cry of pain and anguish that could have echoed through the hills, emerged silently. I knew not to alert the girls.

I brought both hands to my mouth, to muffle any sound I would make. Clutching my own face so tight, I felt my fingers dig into my jaw. The instant sadness was blanketed in my sheer horror over what had just happened. Tears hitting my hand, my shoulders bounced violently as I fought to quiet any sounds of sobbing. My legs were like jelly, wobbling as I forced myself to stand.

The burning in my ears became a ringing. How much time had passed? Ten seconds maybe, but I felt each and every second rip into my body. It was the instant realization that not only was my husband dead, the world wasn’t far behind him.

I could have died, been attacked, the next to get infected had it not been for Lev.  When I turned to look at him, that was when I knew Lev reacted to helping me out of instinct, not some macho, cold promise that he wouldn’t let another violent infected live.

He didn’t have a hero moment where he wouldn’t have an afterthought. Where he walked away knowing he did what he had to do. That wasn’t the case. Lev looked like he had been hit with that hammer.

He dropped to his knees in some sort of emotional defeat and his head lowered.

It was apparent to me that he hated what he had done. He took a life, infected or not, and it wasn’t an easy thing to bear.

We stayed outside trying to take it in, absorb it as quickly as we could. In the aftermath of it all, in our own ways, we were both utterly and completely devastated.