After the Cure, Deirdre Gould [the beach read TXT] 📗

an arm over his face. Both of their eyes were watering. The thing on the ground was black and swollen, it’s belly a cave slithering with maggots. For some reason the sight of it bothered Nella far more than the smell. Maybe because it wasn’t slashed or torn open, the way a knife or even a claw would do. It was gnawed open, ragged rounded hunks taken away, a grotesque reverse puzzle.

“The plants around it are cropped. It was foraging here. Whatever was here before must have kept reseeding and growing after the Plague.”

“I’ll bet that’s how most of the animals that survived made it.”

“Yeah, until the Infected got them. Or some other wild thing.”

“Do you think it was dogs?”

“I hope so. But you’d think the bones we found earlier would be scattered if it were dogs.”

Nella carefully stood up to look around, but the field was silent and motionless. The long grass of several summers was matted and gray around them and she could see up to the tree line.

“Come on,” Frank said softly, “there may be nothing here now, but I don’t want to be around if something comes back. And the more distance we can put between us and this smell, the happier I’ll be.”

Nella looked back at the bubbling mass of maggots once more despite herself as she walked away, obsessively brushing her pant legs, paranoid of taking any of them with her. It was like carrying a tiny piece of death. Nella told herself to stop being a basketcase and think logically. As the smell diminished she became more successful at it.

The road was just more field at this point and Nella used the fenceposts and treeline to help her stay on it. It was cool and the shadows were shattered where the long, gold afternoon sun came through. The young frogs in the ditches spoke high and sweet to their neighbors and Nella became almost relaxed. They were less than five miles from where the lab ought to be. She wondered if they could make it that evening, but the way Frank’s shoulders drooped and her own feet swelled inside her boots made her doubt it.

It was warm, and if they had to, they could sleep in a barn or outbuilding, it was even mild enough to stay outside if nothing presented itself- but even as she thought it, she heard a restless shuffling behind her, something dragging itself out of the ditch.

Nella turned around as Frank yelled at her to look out. She pulled the pistol out of its holster but the thing was on top of her and its momentum sent them both back into the ground. The pistol flew from her hand and lay glittering black and foreign in the grass.

The Infected’s face was barely recognizable as one, more leather sack than head. It was streaked with dried blood and rotting meat. Gray pus oozed out of the myriad wounds around its eyes and scalp and it was bald in patches where scars boiled up in great tarry snakes. Its smell was even more powerful than the horse had been, but only Frank noticed. Nella’s world had plunged down to focus on the matted, filthy beard and its yellow, broken teeth. Its tongue was black and swollen and it made wheezing whistles in its throat as its face lunged closer and closer.

All Nella could hear was Ann in her head, screaming: “THE TEETH MUST GNASH!”

Please don’t let it hurt too badly, she thought, even as she realized it was going to be an excruciating death.

Her hand fluttered and flexed, looking for the gun somewhere beside her. The Infected’s black and yellow talons, they could be called nails no longer, pierced the side of her shirt and left a scarlet, sizzling runner along Nella’s side.

She yelled and heard it echoed from over the Infected’s back. Frank was trying to pry it off of her, but the Infected had desperate hunger on its side and Frank still saw it as a sick human. He didn’t want to hurt it if he didn’t have to.

Nella kicked up with her tired legs, and the Infected’s weight shifted so she could roll away while Frank pulled. But it was too late. The Infected’s teeth snapped closed around her shoulder. It ground and pulled with it’s jagged, sharded teeth and Nella screamed and kicked again.

Frank let go of the Infected’s back and slid down next to her in the grass. The world shrunk and became too bright. Nella fought it, knowing if she lost consciousness, she was dead. She sucked in a deep breath as the Infected still scrabbled and chewed. Her eyes watered, but she focused on the thing’s shattered leg. She aimed and gave it one last great kick in the seeping black wound on its shin. It released her with a half wheeze, half howl.

Nella forced herself to roll away before she fainted. She saw Frank raise a gun and the thought slid by in a blur, I hope he’s using the pistol or we’re both dead.

The sound of the shot shattered the veil that was dropping in great folds over her. Her eyes rolled back to center and she saw Frank steady his shaking hand with the other as he shot again.

Frank bent over her and she could see he was crying. She wasn’t sure whether it was because she was hurt or because he’d killed someone. The world fell away in little puzzle pieces of light and sound before she could find out.

It flared back with a sizzle as Frank pressed her bitten shoulder with his shirt. The sound came back with a great thudding, like a slow fan.

“Nella, wake up. Wake up, we have to go. Please wake up.”

Frank’s eyes darted from her to the woods nearby and back, then to the field behind them.

“Are there more of them?” She tried to sit up but her vision blurred again and he pressed her back.

“Yes,” he said, “but they haven’t noticed us yet. They heard me- the gun, and are looking for us.”

“Are there any buildings nearby? Can you see anything?”

“There’s a farmhouse across the field but it’s pretty far.”

“We’ll make it. Help me up.”

“Can you walk?”

“If I get up slowly I’ll be able to run as fast as you. I just have to stay conscious.”

He lifted her onto her feet. It felt as if the ground were sand sinking away from her every second. She fought the dizzyness. The pack’s wide strap dug hard into her chewed shoulder and the pain was a dark blanket over everything, even her fear.

“Where is the farmhouse?” she asked, trying not to panic as she watched the half dozen Infected slowly closing in on their location.

“Are you ready?” asked Frank. Nella nodded. He held her around the waist and they began to run. Frank’s fingers pressed on the slice in her side and each step jarred her shoulder. The farmhouse looked very far. Nella stopped looking at it, looking instead at the long grass in front of her and trying to resist the urge to look behind her at the people who were undoubtedly chasing them now. They would have seen the movement as Frank and Nella began running. She hoped they had enough of a head start. Frank began to outpace her and she struggled to match him, stumbling forward.

The thud of bare feet began to grow behind them. Nella felt a jolt of adrenaline burst into her legs. They were almost there, but Nella’s chest still cramped in terror as she looked up to see where the farmhouse was.

She could hear an Infected behind her, wheezing and growling, like a tired dog. She tried to brace herself for the taloned grab she knew was coming.

But then Frank was pulling her up the rotted steps and across the porch. The screen opened with a screech and the wooden door with a bang. They were inside, in the dark and Frank was slamming the door and turning the lock. Nella collapsed onto the nearby staircase, a puff of dust pluming into the air as she sat down.

“I need to check if there’s another door,” said Frank and darted away. Nella eased off the pack and closed her eyes as the Infected slammed themselves against the front door. Frank was back after only a few seconds.

“We need to dart them before they break the window,” Nella said, “Can you help me upstairs, I can do it from one of the upper windows.”

“You’re hurt, you need to stop moving. We have to stop the bleeding. I’ll take care of the Infected.”

“Are you sure, Frank?”

He brushed her face with his hand. “For you, I can,” he said, his face grim. He slipped past her up the stairs. She heard the window slide open with a shuddering squeal. The dart gun was designed to be noiseless.

She pressed the thin fabric of Frank’s shirt against her shoulder, hissing with pain. She had to clean it with something or it was going to be severely infected. She would probably need to stitch it too. She wondered if the house had been picked clean or if it had been missed by the scavenge teams. The presence of the Infected gave her some hope that the house was untouched. Maybe she could find medicine or alcohol to clean it out.

Frank glided back down the stairs. He peeked out of the curtain, watching the Infected as they slowly stopped banging. “How did they survive this long?” he asked.

“It must have been the cattle. How many were left?”

“Including the one that bit you- seven so far.”

“They probably wandered out of the City and began eating the herds of cows, one by one. I doubt there are any more. The one that got me was filled with gangrene. He was dying.”

Frank peered out of the curtain. “None of the rest seem to be in very good shape either. They are all cut up and bitten. They must have fought each other between cows- or whatever.”

Nella heard a thud. Then something slowly slid down the front door.

“That’s two asleep,” said Frank, “Come on, we don’t need to watch the rest of them pass out. We need to fix your arm before it gets worse.”

“Can you check the bathroom for, well, for anything really, but peroxide mostly. I’ll see if I can pull out the first aid kit.”

“Are you sure? I can carry you upstairs so you can lie down.”

“Have you ever stitched a wound?”

Frank looked pale. “No, but I can do it.”

“I know you can, you’ll have to, but I need to show you how first, so it doesn’t get infected.”

“Okay, I’ll be right back, I think there are two bathrooms.” He went into the hallway.

“Frank,” she called, “Check under the sink too.”

She heard two more thumps from the porch and closed her own eyes, waiting for Frank.

 

"Get it out."

The bathrooms had been better than expected. Nella was not surprised given the remote location and continued presence of the Infected. The team that had scouted Dr. Carton’s lab wouldn’t have