Surge (64 page)

“Don’t you fucking say that. I know that you’re upset, but don’t you dare even joke about something like that. Do you hear me?”

“I’m sorry,” he huffs out and I see some of the anger disappear as his shoulders hunch. “I know you care about her, and I shouldn’t have said something as serious as that so offhandedly.” I nod and release him. “I’m just pissed at myself for putting their safety above everyone else’s.”

“You didn’t,” I press to try and make it get through his thick skull. “They were as much a part of the group as anyone else, and you did what you thought was best.”

“And look where it got me,” John says and waves his hand around.

“It was a mistake, we’ve all made some at one point or another, we’re only human. But what we can do is learn, and make sure that it won’t happen again.”

“You’re damn right it won’t,” he confirms with a face full of determination. “No one goes any-fucking-where near the group if they’ve been out of sight for more than thirty seconds without being subjected to a strip search. Never a-fucking-gain.”

“Good plan,” I say and he nods. “Did you see where she was bit?” John shakes his head in the negative before replying.

“I was too pissed to check.”

I turn and curl a hand over my shoulder for him to follow me. Walking over to Marissa body, I don’t see any visual bites or scratches at first glance, so I crouch down for a better look. Pulling her shirt sleeve up, I check both arms and see that there’s nothing marring the skin there. Pulling her collar back, I see that the left side is in the same condition as her arms, but on her right breast bone is the point of entry of the infection. You can see ten distinct impressions of teeth, six from the top and four from the bottom row that the wheezer left on her.

“It’s another Mikayla,” I say to John and point at the wound. “Remember, she pulled a similar stunt and covered the wound so we would take her in?” John nods to say he remembers that lying stray. “If we weren’t distracted with evading wheezers, we would have noticed that she buttoned her top up. She always loved displaying the girls.”

“That’s because they cost her a fortune,” John hisses. “I do have to say that I’ve got the absolute worst taste in women. First there’s Kelly. That crazy bitch never shut the fuck up, and then when she finally cracks, she tries to burn Olivia like it’s a Salem witch trial. Then there’s Chelsea. All that dumb broad did was snap her gum and parrot whatever Kelly or Marissa said. If they told her to eat shit and die, she’d ask what shit was and follow through.” I chuckle at that, even if it’s the wrong place and time to do so, because it’s true.

“Finally, there’s Marissa. That one I thought was the least offensive of the bunch, but it might have just have been for the fact that she was
very
clever with her tongue.” John pauses as if reminiscing that particular act, before shaking his head. “But she turned out to be no better than the other two. Money grubbing sluts who would rather cling to their shit, than run for their lives.”

“Don’t say anything else about Marissa,” I say and look over at Tommy’s distraught form still sprawled across Leonard’s body.

“Why?” John asks suspiciously as he follows my eyes. “Oh, because it’ll upset Tommy?”

“It’ll upset him more than you know,” I reply and John cocks his head. I lower my voice and continue. “He liked Marissa, and now, not only did she kill his grandfather, he had to kill her, too.”

“Where the hell was I when he
‘liked’
Marissa?” John’s demand is accompanied by crossed his arms.

“Probably moaning in bed with her,” I reply with a shrug and he scowls at me. “Seriously, he was crushing on her big time.”

“Why the fuck didn’t he say anything?” John asks. “Or you for that matter. You know that I wouldn’t stand in the way if someone wants the chick for real.”

“It wasn’t my place. I, myself, didn’t even know until Olivia told me.” John stares me down demanding the details. “I won’t share it all, just know that he was too shy to ask her out.”

“So, he was like you then,” John responds with a smug smile. “Too chicken shit to go for the girl, so you sit on the sidelines and mope.”

“Fuck you,” I say and flip him off. “Tommy’s different and I’m doing fine, thank you very much.”

“One stolen kiss doesn’t mean you’re doing fine,” he counters.

“When it comes to Olivia it does,” I retort. “Now shut your fucking mouth before Tommy hears you talking shit and shoots you next. Or Olivia for that matter.”

“Olivia wouldn’t shoot me,” John says. “She loves me too much.”

“Don’t count on it,” I say and he laughs.

But I know that Olivia won’t be shooting anyone, no matter how much she may want to, until she can conquer her fear of it in the first place. As soon as she’s able to, and she
will
recover and be able to learn or I’ll burn the world to the ground with my anger and grief, I’ll teach her how to focus on the target instead of the startling noise.

Then we can hunt the deranged fucker, and finally end her nightmare once and for all.

<~~~<~~~
~~~>~~~
>

“You know what I don’t get?” John asks me. I shake my head, so he continues. “How the hell did it spread so fast? I mean, it used to take days before the infection took over. Marissa couldn’t have been bitten more than two hours ago, so how the hell did she turn so fast?”

“New mutation,” I answer and see John’s eyes widen with questions. I hold up my hand to stave off the barrage before it begins. “I only know about them because Olivia’s told me of their existence, and since then, I’ve seen a few.” I point at the bodies on the ground. “And now you have too.”

“The ones hopping through traffic?” John questions and I nod. “Fuck, we can’t win can we?”

“It was never about winning,” I counter as I stand. “It’s about defending, and surviving against the odds. That means taking greater precautions, upping our awareness, and taking better care of injuries. If we held off on succumbing to the girls’ hysterics, none of this would have happened. We would have had time to heal our fighters, and stowed away the clueless in a safe house, before gathering supplies on our own. As we’ve done since the beginning.”

“That was my bad call,” he says. “I thought that they could handle a simple shopping trip. We were only supposed to run in, grab what was absolutely necessary, and get the fuck out. Instead, we wind up forming a search and rescue team for two brainless women, who we should have just abandoned for running off in the first place.”

“I would have done the same,” I offer and John gives me a doubtful look. “I would too have.”

“For Sarah and Olivia, or even Whitney, yes you would have definitely gone searching for them,” John agrees. “But you most certainly would not have wrestled an eyelash curler out of Chelsea’s Kung-Fu grip, or smacked twenty shades of lip stick out of Marissa’s hands, before hiking them over your shoulder and carrying their screaming asses out of the store.” I raise my eyebrows and he nods to say that indeed did happen. “If you had been there, you would have shrugged, said
‘have a nice life
,
’
and left them to their own dumbass demise.”

“Or something along those lines,” I say with a nod and John grins.

“But if Olivia had been there,” he continues. “She would have held her machete to their throats, and marched them like prisoners off the plank, all the way back to the van; and they wouldn’t have made a peep.” A grin of my own takes over at the very realistic scenario in which Olivia would have done just that, but with some deadly cursing thrown in, and her pixie sized fire goddess taking control over the situation. John shakes his head.

“Too bad neither of those things happened, and this is where it’s gotten us.” John motions at the corpses near our feet, Mike’s dazed form now awake and sitting up, a crying Sarah hugging Danny, and finally a distraught Tommy hugging his grandfather’s corpse; while Olivia and Cory try to console him.

“It could have been worse,” I point out, being devil’s advocate. “We knew there were risks when we left the condo. Now, we’re not speculating the possibilities, we’re seeing them for what they are; the cold reality.” John’s shoulders hunch forward as he looks down and nods. “People die, be that now or in twenty years, it doesn’t matter. But we still have a group counting on us to lead them to safety. So, are we going to sit here and mope, or brush ourselves off and push forward to survive?”

“Let’s clean the fucking van and get the hell out of here,” John answers as he cracks his knuckles.

I nod in approval of his new sense of determination, I know that it isn’t likely to stay, but it will work for the time being. Calling Carlos and Oscar over, I instruct them to keep watch on the group, while John and I work on removing blood and guts from the car. Walking around back, I grab two pairs of medical gloves; which John and I put on immediately, and one of the eight bags full of useless clothing that the girls picked. Pulling out some skimpy scrap of fabric, I pass John a handful; who eyes it with disgust, but accepts it before climbing into the back. Taking my own ball of silk, I climb inside and get to work.

Most of the concentration of blood is in the last row of seating where Marissa and Chelsea were sitting. Some blood is drying on the seats and will stain the upholstery, but we don’t have enough seats to avoid it, since we were squeezed in with 15 to a twelve seater as it was already. After scrubbing the windows clear of the blood spray where Chelsea had her neck bitten, I hop over a row to where Mike was sitting. There’s nothing much to be clean up here, just a few dry red handprints, so I move onto the next row where Leonard was attacked.

Leonard’s spot shows the gory tale the worst. There’s blood smeared across the window, some of it’s dripping from the ceiling, a bullet hole punctured the glass, and a puddle of blood is leaking from the seat and onto the carpeting. Wiping away as much as I can, I move to where Tommy took Marissa down. This whole row is covered in the sticky redness, so it should be cordoned off. The whole van really needs to be abandoned, but we don’t have the means to leave it behind just yet, nor am I confident that we’ll find another that could fit twelve passengers comfortably and be in running order.

But I ignore all that, and pick up the piece of Leonard’s flesh that Marissa was chewing on like a T-bone steak. With a grimace, I stuff the hunk of Lenny in my trash bag. Fighting the urge to vomit, before I make even more of a mess for me to clean up; I continue to use the expensively tagged scraps of material to wipe away the sticky mess and erase the final remnants of our fallen shopaholic.

<~~~<~~~
~~~>~~~><~~~<~~~
~~~>~~~>

After John and I finish cleanup as best to our ability without proper supplies, we use plastic store bags to cover up as much of the affected seats as possible. I know that nobody’s going to want to get back in the van, never mind sit where people died just a short time ago, but we need to get moving. Hopping out of the van, I walk over to where the majority of the remaining group is gathered.

“We’re ready to get back on the road,” I say without preamble. “I know it’s not ideal, but it’s the best we have for now.” I look around at the five people in front of me. “Anyone who has open cuts or wounds, I want to avoid the plastic areas as much as possible. Just sit on your chair and fold your hands on your lap.” Akio, Mike and Whitney grimace, while Sarah and Danny’s eyes round a little at that; since they’ll most likely be the ones in those spots.