Slow Burn (Book 2): Infected (10 page)

It was well after noon when Murphy pushed the bunker door open. Sunshine poured in, and I squinted behind my sunglasses. With my M-4 at the ready, I climbed into the blowing smoke. Surprisingly, it wasn’t nearly as hot as I’d expected.

“An August cold front.” Murphy grinned widely.

“It’s still got to be in the low nineties,” I countered, as Mandi came up between us.

“What’s the thing with you, Zed? How can you be the Null Spot and still be such a stick in the mud? If you weren’t so white, I’d have to change your superhero name to Dark Spot.”

Mandi said, “Wait. What? Zed has a superhero name?”

“Thanks, Murphy,” I said with an unimpressed glare.

Mandi said, “I think that’s neat. Why do you have a superhero name, Zed?”

Murphy laughed, “Because he keeps doing superhero shit. He’s always rushing around and saving this person or that person.”

Mandi said, “I think that’s valiant.”

I looked at Murphy. “Hah!”

Murphy grinned. “The Valiant Null Spot. I like that.”

Mandi asked, “Why is your superhero name Null Spot?”

“The Valiant Null Spot,” Murphy corrected.

“You’d have to ask Murphy. He made it up.”

Murphy said, “Man, it just sounded right.”

Mandi said, “Well, Null Spot, thank you for saving me.”

I said, “You already thanked me. And besides, it was both of us, not just me.”

“Thank you, anyway.”

“Damn
, dude, say ‘you’re welcome.’” Murphy nudged me.

“You’re welcome, Mandi.”

Murphy said, “Don’t mind him, Mandi. He’s a good guy. He always wants to do the right thing. He’s just moody.”

“I think it’s okay to be moody. With everything that’s happened, I think it can be expected,” she responded.

I scanned the area for potential dangers and said, “I’m not moody.”

The smoke was thick and blowing hard in the north wind.

Around us was a fire-blackened world that faded into gray. I knew there were houses that had survived the fire, but they were beyond the range of our visibility in the smoke.

I walked toward the street in front of the house, or what used to be the house. Murphy and Mandi followed. When we reached asphalt, we headed west.

We walked between rows of dead oaks, whose blackened branches reached in futility for heaven. Burned kitchen appliances, mounds of unidentifiable junk, and partial masonry walls marked the remains of each structure we passed. Hulks of cars littered the lawns and roads. Among those lay the crusted, black bodies and bones of the dead.

Mandi spoke up. “Murphy, can I ask you a question?”

“Mandi, you don’t need to ask me if you can ask me a question. Just ask it.”

“I’m just trying to be polite.”

Murphy said, “You don’t need to be that polite.”

“Fine,” Mandi said. “Why do you smile so much?”

“Why not?”

“Doesn’t all of this make you sad?” she asked.

“It doesn’t make a difference how I feel about all of this. How I feel about it isn’t going to change any of it,” Murphy answered.

“Why then?”

“Why not?” he answered. “It’s just how I am. The world is a fucked up place, but it’s always been a fucked up place. I just choose not to let it fuck me up, if you know what I mean.”

“I guess.”

“It’s easy, Mandi. I get to choose how I’m going to feel about things. I don’t let the world tell me how I’m going to feel.”

“Murphy, that sounds like something you read on a motivational poster.”

“It doesn’t matter where I got the idea, does it? I take life as it comes. I don’t complain about the bullshit. I make the best of it and I try to be happy.”

Mandi asked, “Even in all of this? Haven’t you lost anybody you love?”

“Mandi,” I said to her, a little too harshly, but it got her attention. I shook my head.

Mandi’s face immediately creased in worry.

Murphy said, “Man, it’s okay. I mean, it’s not okay, but it is what it is. I found my mother yesterday.”

Mandi timidly asked, “Was she dead?”

“She was,” Murphy answered.

“Didn’t you like her?” Mandi asked.

“No, man, that’s a Zed thing. Me, I loved my mom and my sister.”

Mandi asked, “It didn’t make you sad?”

Murphy said, “More than that. It breaks my heart. But I choose not to let it tear me up inside. I choose to put one foot in front of the other. In life, that’s one of the only choices you ever really have. You can choose to move ahead and take control, or you can sit and let life roll over you.”

Mandi said, “You said we have two choices.”

Murphy stopped for emphasis and looked at both Mandi and me. “You get to choose how you’re going to feel about it. I choose to be happy.”

“I don’t understand how you can be happy when you just found out your mom was dead,” Mandi said.

“I’m a complex human being with complex emotions. I can be unhappy about my mom and still be the same happy guy I’ve always been. I don’t have to let it ruin me.”

We all walked on a bit and Mandi concluded, “I’ll have to think about your philosophy, Murphy.”

I said, “I think I need to get a what-would-Murphy-do bracelet.”

Murphy said, “They sell them online.”

“Really?” Mandi asked.

Murphy laughed.

I said, “No, not really.”

Mandi said, “Well, I didn’t know. I don’t know you well enough to know if you’re kidding.”

Half a block later, Mandi asked, “Is it safe to be out here?”

“We think that the infected stay away from the smoke, I replied. “I think they understand that smoke means fire and like any animal with half a brain, they’re afraid of the fire. I think we’re fine for the moment.”

Mandi said, “I have half a brain and I’m not afraid of fire.”

Murphy burst out with a big laugh that carried for blocks. “That’s because you didn’t see the fire that we saw yesterday. Man, that damn near scared the shit out of me. And I don’t mean metaphorically. I mean, I nearly shit my pants.”

Mandi asked, “Was it bad? I mean to actually see it?”

I said, “I don’t know why we’re alive right now. We should be dead.”

Mandi’s face showed a pained expression. I couldn’t tell whether she was sincere or trying too hard to appear that way. She asked, “Can I ask another question?”

I said, “I thought you and Murphy agreed that you didn’t have to ask if you can ask a question.”

“I’m sorry. It’s a habit.”

“No sweat,” I answered. “What do you want to ask?”

“Why do you and Murphy act normal, but you look infected?”

I hesitated. “Murphy likes to talk. I’ll let him explain it.”

We saw nothing alive as we walked through the destruction. But slowly, the smoke dwindled to a gray haze that floated around us like a thin layer of fog. Above was cloudless, peaceful blue. The sky was a hope of something better, but like everything better, it lay beyond reach.

Murphy and Mandi had fallen silent by the time we came to a block of houses left untouched by the fire.

On one side of the street lay nothing but mounds of ash and the metallic innards of family homes. On the other side of the street, the grass and leaves were wilted by the heat, the lawns cluttered with the detritus of a post-virus world. The houses bore their scars but were generally intact.

Still leading the way, I selected one of a dozen two-story tract homes and headed for the front door. There was no vehicle in the carport and none parked on the street in front of the house. My deduction was that the owners had gotten out of town when things got bad. Hence, there was little chance of us finding an occupant in the house, infected or otherwise. With Murphy’s arguments about the danger of people fresh in my mind, unoccupied houses would be safer.

The grass on the lawn was mostly green, but dry enough to crunch underfoot as we crossed it. The hedges were well-groomed and healthy. The flowers hanging over the edges of the pots on the porch were once lush, but had turned dry and brown. Wilted petals lay scattered.

The front door was closed, so I stepped up to the porch and tried the knob. It refused to turn. Murphy stopped on the first step. Mandi stayed on the walkway.

I looked up and down the street out of habit.

I’m not sure why, but I rang the doorbell. It chimed inside.

Having chosen the path of good manners, I knocked on the door a moment later.

I waited but heard nothing from inside. I rang the doorbell again.

Murphy said, “That’s weird.”

“What?” I asked.

“The doorbell.”

“Yeah?”

“They still have electricity.”

“Hmm.”

“You’d think the fire would have burned the lines or something.”

I said, “Yeah, I guess you’re right. What do you say we go around back and see if the back door is open?

Murphy said, “I can kick it in.”

I said, “Let’s not.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. I mean, I don’t know where we’re going to end up in the long run, but I’m starting to think that if we have a list of places like this one, with front doors that lock, they might come in handy one day.”

“If you say so.”

“Not really. I mean, we might never come back here. I don’t know. Let’s just check around back.”

Murphy said, “C’mon, Mandi. We’re going around back.”

Murphy and Mandi filed off toward the side of the house and I followed. We crossed the carport and skirted a large oily spot in its center. Murphy and Mandi walked through a gap in a hedge and disappeared beside the house.

A storage room at the back of the carport caught my curiosity and I said, “Murphy, I’m going to check to see if there’s anything useful in here.”

“Okay,” Murphy’s answer carried back through the leaves.

In a nice surprise, the storeroom door was not locked. I cautiously pulled it open and softly said, “Hello?”

Nothing. No sound at all.

I waited a few seconds and peeked in. It smelled of oil, gasoline, potting soil, and dry grass. It was small, but well-organized. A lawn mower sat on the floor. A few rakes, shovels, a hedge trimmer, and a tree branch cutter hung on the wall. Beside those tools hung a sledgehammer, an axe, and a machete. “Well how about that?”

There were bags of fertilizer stacked on the floor. My first thought was that those were useless. Then I wondered about the recipe for constructing a bomb with fertilizer and diesel fuel. I had no need of such a bomb at the moment, but the world had turned into a very violent place. Who knew what might prove useful in the future? I made a mental note.

Two gas cans sat on the floor beside the lawn mower, one full, one empty. Another mental note.

I slipped the sheathed machete into my belt. I grabbed the hatchet. The machete was a keeper, but Murphy might appreciate the hatchet.

I closed the door behind me as I stepped out, cautiously looking around as I did. Slow, smart, and safe was better than fast, dumb, and dead.

I walked through the gap in the hedge and into a shadowy tunnel under the thick foliage of the overhanging trees. Mosquitoes, hungry for a snack, swarmed out of their hiding places and buzzed in my ears.

The gate to the chain-link fence hung open and I hurried through without a sound.

Once in the backyard, I saw a long row of charred yards, bordered by burned-out houses and separated by a chain-link fence. Several backyard widths away, the fence was pushed flat against the ground by the weight of several hundred immolated bodies, caught by the flames in an apparent attempt to escape. Their piled corpses smoldered and stank.

Sobbing caught my attention. I looked to my left.

Mandi sat on the back porch on a piece of lawn furniture with her face in her hands, crying softly. One of Murphy’s big hands rested on her shoulder, comforting again. When he saw me, he shrugged, but said nothing.

I walked up beside them. I wasn’t the nurturing type so no words found their way to my lips. I laid the hatchet on the table and said to Murphy, “If you want it.”

Murphy nodded.

I went over and checked the back door. The knob turned and the door swung open.

I didn’t expect anyone or anything to be inside, but I drew my pistol as a matter of course and went in.

The house was warm and dimly lit. The curtains were all pulled closed. I sniffed the air. I smelled nothing dead.

Everything was tidy. Pictures hung on the wall. Dehydrated houseplants sat on shelves. The furniture was sparse, but well-organized. The kitchen counters were clean. There were no dishes in the sink.

I thought about my apartment and hoped that no survivor found their way in. I hadn’t cleaned in weeks. The mess was embarrassing.

I went down the short hallway off of the living room and checked the first door on the left, a bathroom. There was no one inside.

Across the hall, a door hung, nearly closed. I pushed it open with the toe of my boot, holding my pistol out in front of me just like the police and soldiers I’d seen in a thousand movies.

A bedroom. Empty.

Before heading up the stairs, I took a moment to listen to the sounds in the house. I heard no creaking from the floor above. I heard no human sounds.

I took my time climbing the stairs, opting for silence over speed.

An eight-foot wide rectangular landing at the top of the stairs provided access to three doors, two open, one closed.

One open door led into a small, vacant bathroom.

I stepped across the landing for a view into a room used as an office. It was orderly, with a tidy desk. I spied a phone charger there that I thought might work on my phone. I took a moment to pull the cord from the wall and pocket it. The closet held nothing of concern: a file cabinet and storage boxes.

Out of the room and back across the landing, the last door was ajar, just like the bedroom door downstairs. I nudged the door gently with my elbow and it swung open.

A man sat on the edge of a bed, straight back, feet flat on the floor, palms on his thighs, staring through partially open blinds at the mound of corpses in the distance.

I pointed the gun and braced myself to pull the trigger.

“Hey,” I said.

No response. No movement.

Could he be dead in that position?

“Hey.”

Not the slightest move.

What the fuck?

I edged my way into the room, careful to keep myself positioned with my pistol pointed at his chest.

The man’s skin was pale like mine. He was infected.

My finger rested on the trigger of my pistol and I wrestled with the choice of shooting or not.

He’s infected. He’s a threat!

But he was just sitting there. Was he a monster? Was he like me? Or was he something else?

As I came around to his side, I saw that his eyes were open. Tears left shiny tracks down the coarse skin of his cheeks. His middle-aged face was frozen sadness. I saw his chest move ever so slightly in and out. He was alive.

“Hey, man,” I said.

Still, he did not respond.

I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to touch him. Mostly I didn’t want to put myself within arm’s reach of an infected without Murphy’s gun there to back me up.

After several long minutes of indecision, I inched my way out of the room and quietly pulled the door shut behind me.

I stepped quickly down the stairs to the living room and got to the bottom just as Murphy and Mandi were coming in the back door.

Murphy’s smile flashed instantly to worry when he saw me. “What?”

“There’s an infected guy upstairs,” I answered.

Murphy’s M-4 was up in an instant.

“I don’t know what his deal is. He might be a slow burn like us, but he’s catatonic.”

“Catatonic?” Mandi asked.

“He’s just sitting there, staring out the window. He wouldn’t answer when I talked to him. He wouldn’t look at me. He wouldn’t move. His skin was pale, so I know he’s infected, but he didn’t react to me at all.”

“That’s weird,” Murphy said. “What are you thinking we should do?”

“Honestly, I almost shot him.”

Murphy said, “You almost shot him just because he was infected.”

I nodded.

Murphy went on, “Even though he wasn’t a danger.”

“I don’t know if he is or not.”

“But he just sat there?”

“Yes.”

“Uh, huh.” Murphy stared me down. “You know where I’m going with this, right?”

“Trust me, Murphy. The irony of it isn’t lost on me. I don’t know what we should do about him, but I do know one thing.”

Murphy asked, “And that is?”

“That you were right,”
I answered.

“About?”

I hesitated.

“C’mon, Zed. You can say it.”

I huffed and rattled, “You and me are infected. The uninfected will always fear us. To them, we’ll always be monsters.“

Murphy nodded.

I said, “I’m really starting to hate this fuckin’ world.”

“So what do you want to do with him?” Murphy asked.

“I’m not going to shoot him. I guess we could get some food and water, get out of here, and just leave him alone. I don’t know.”

Mandi protested. “We can’t just leave him.”

“Mandi,” I said, “we don’t know anything about this guy. We don’t know if he’s dangerous, or what. Maybe he’s just sitting there until he gets hungry again, and then he’ll have one of us for lunch.”

Murphy added, “He might. These infected act pretty weird. Who knows what he’s up to.”

Mandi shook her head. “Or maybe he’s just like you guys.”

I said, “Maybe something like us, but not just like us. There’s something really wrong with this guy.”

“What do you want to do, then?” Murphy asked me.

Mandi started toward the stairs. “If you guys can’t figure out what to do, I’ll go upstairs and see what’s wrong with him.”

I raised a hand. “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. Mandi, that big heart of yours is going to get you killed if you’re not careful. You can’t just run around acting like you acted last week. Things are different now.” I waited for her full attention. “There’s no telling what he’ll do when he sees an uninfected person come in.”

“Well, we can’t just do nothing, Zed.”

“Yes we can.” Murphy nodded emphatically.

Mandi glared at me.

I said, “Shit. Fine. Murphy, you come up and keep your gun on the guy. I’ll go in and try a little harder to get his attention. But if he jumps at me or tries to bite me, shoot him. I don’t need any more God damned bites.”

Relieved, Mandi said, “Good.”

I said, “One condition, Mandi. You’re staying down here.”

Mandi didn’t like that one bit. “You’re not my dad, Zed. You can’t just boss me around.”

Murphy grinned and giggled.

“Mandi,” I took a deep breath, “I’m not trying to be your dad. I’m just
…Look, you just came out of that bunker, and you lived through that, so I know you’re tough, but when you saw all those bodies piled and burned out back, you fell apart and cried.”

Mandi threw her hands on her hips and stepped up in front of me. “That doesn’t make me fragile, Zed.”

“I’m just looking out for you, Mandi. If we have to shoot this guy down, don’t you have enough gruesome images in your head? Do you really need one more right now? Look, you do whatever you want. Just don’t get in our way. Like I said, I don’t want any more of those fuckers biting me.” I turned and headed up the stairs, making no effort to be quiet.