A Plague on All Houses (9 page)

Kaitlyn's mouth opened and closed like the proverbial beached fish, only in her case it wasn't lack of air but lack of any immediate response. She finally sat back in her seat red-faced, furious, and thankfully silent. Good thing because I had an itchy right hook.

“Well, then,” Simone said briskly. “Tony, what about you?”

Tony looked bored. “Playing video games at the arcade in Redwood Grove. These totally reeking deadheads came in, tore up the place when Manny and I were duking it out on Resident Evil, Darkside Chronicles. Fuckers messed up my high score. That fucker Manny'd be laughing his ass off at me if they hadn't eaten him. Hurt like hell to get bit, but here I am.” And that was it for Tony. He slouched back in his chair, twiddling his thumbs as if there were joysticks attached.

“Mack?”

Mack gave Simone a little nod and gazed at us all with those big, sad eyes, hands resting on his jeans-clad knees. “I'm a mailman. I was doing my route out by the Big Red truck stop and all those little houses off the beaten path.” He had a soothing voice, kind of like Garrison Keiller, made for relating folksy homespun tales. “I know the people on my route real well. They're the kind of folks who make homemade fudge for my Christmas bonus, real nice people.” He swallowed. “I kind of figured something was wrong when I stopped at the Millers’ place. Young couple with two kids, real cute twins, five years old. Those little girls always come out to say hi when they hear me at the door. Well, this time…” He swallowed again. It looked like it hurt. “Well, they didn't come out. Even though the front door was open, just the screen door shut, but not all the way. Shantal—that's Mrs. Miller—well, I knew she was home ‘cause her car was in the driveway. But she didn't come out to say hello either.” Mack wiped his forehead on a blue-and-black plaid flannel sleeve.

“At first I tried not to worry. You know, maybe they were out back or something. But then I noticed … well, the flies. They were buzzing on the inside of the screen and … and on the floor … and it looked like blood. Mrs. Miller had one of those scented candles lit, cinnamon or something. But underneath it, I could smell something rotten.”

He looked at us guiltily. “We're not supposed to go in anyone's house on our routes. We're not supposed to do that. But I then thought, what if the twins were hurt? So I went inside.”

Normally I would be chewing my arm off to get away from this kind of long-winded tale. But the quiet emotion in Mack's voice was riveting, like an unexpectedly horrific anecdote of Lake Wobegon days. Even Kaitlyn had gone silent, listening with full attention as Mack continued.

“There was stuff … a cast iron pan, half-cooked hamburgers, blood, and other stuff on the floor. Maybe a finger. I'm not sure. It was covered with flies. One of the stove burners was still on, so I turned it off before it started a house fire. I heard a sound from the living room, a moan, like someone in pain. The girls… the twins…” He looked up again, directly at me this time, eyes deep wells of pain. “They were eating their mom.” Kaitlyn made a choked sound, hand flying to her mouth. Mack gave her an apologetic look, but kept going.

“I didn't know what to do. I guess I yelled or made some sort of noise ‘cause the girls, those little girls all covered in their mother's blood … they looked up and saw me standing there and … well, they left their mom and attacked me.” He pulled the cuff of his pants up on his right leg to show several healing bite wounds. “I didn't want to hurt them, but they kept coming. I made it to the kitchen, grabbed the fry pan and—” He stopped for a moment. “I didn't want to do it. I had to hit them. Those sweet little girls…” He stopped, tears running down his cheeks, unable to continue.

Surprisingly it was Lily who spoke first. “You had to do it, you know.” She reached out and patted Mack on his shoulder, somehow still managing to keep her face covered by hair. “They weren't little girls any more.”

Mack nodded, dashing the tears from his eyes with closed fists. “I know,” he said quietly. “But when I hit them … I still saw their faces like they were when they were alive. Their sweet little faces…” His voice choked up as sobs wracked his body. Simone handed him a package of tissues that she'd seemingly conjured from thin air.

“Lily, what about you?”

Lily had started to shrink back into her chair, like a blow-up doll deflating, but Simone's voice stopped her in mid-shrink. “Me? I … I just … I live in an apartment in town. Above my mom's bead shop.” Lily kept her head down as she talked. I ached to push her Cousin It hair away from her face. “I work there on weekends and afternoons after class. Mom's in San Francisco on a buying trip, although she was supposed to get home last night.” She stopped, as if uncertain where to go from there.

“Do you go to Big Red?” I smiled encouragingly, hoping she saw the smile through all that hair.

Lily nodded. “I'm studying art and photography.”

“Those will be useful in the real world,” Kaitlyn muttered. “If there's even a real world left.”

I shot her a withering look as Lily flinched. “Of course there's going to be a real world,” I snapped. “That's why we're here, right?” Kaitlyn didn't exactly wither, but at least she shut up.

“My boyfriend and I were at the Student Union. He was texting—he does that all the time—and I got mad at him because I was sick of it, so I went outside to get some fresh air … and I saw these people … these things … heading towards the Union. They didn't look right. And I could smell them.” She jerked her head towards Mack, hair briefly lifting to reveal cheerfully pretty features before veiling her face again. “Like you said you could smell something rotten in the house, right?”

Mack nodded.

“I could smell them on the breeze…” She paused, fiddled with a strand of hair. “They started attacking people. At first I thought it was a joke, but then I saw the blood. I went back in the Union, tried to get Casey to listen to me, but he just kept on texting. Ignored me.” She gave a little shrug that could have meant anything. “He did that a lot. Ignored me, I mean.”

Jeez, this really
was
like an encounter group. I kept the thought to myself, though. Last thing I wanted to do was spook Lily now that she was finally talking.

“So they came through the front door. Lots more blood, bright shiny blood, red like an apple. Casey … he just kept on texting, even when I was trying to pull him out the back. Probably Tweeting about the blood and how
fake
it looked or something.” She shrugged again. “I saw them tear him to pieces before I ran out the back door. One of them bit me on the shoulder when I tried to help Casey. He never dropped his iPhone, not even when they bit his arm off.” With that, Lily heaved a great sigh and sat back in her chair, a wind-up toy whose key had run down.

If this were a twelve-step meeting, we'd get coffee and doughnuts about now. Which would be nice ‘cause I was getting hungry again. I patted my stomach, asking it silently to wait a while before striking up conversation.

Kai raised a tentative hand. “How bad is it out there?”

Simone hesitated briefly. “It's not good,” she finally answered. “But so far it's contained within a hundred-mile radius around Big Red. The relative isolation of Redwood Grove and the sparseness of residences and businesses in the surrounding area have worked in our favor as far as slowing the spread of the virus. But if even one carrier makes it through to a more populated area and bites someone … we could easily lose control of the situation. Which is why it's important we move forward quickly. We are going to do our best to prepare you as best we can in this limited time, but I'm afraid the majority of your training will come in the field.”

“How are they explaining this to rest of the world?” I asked.

“Officially there is a possible outbreak of an unidentified viral hemorrhagic fever, giving plausibility to the reason no one can go in or out of the area.”

She nodded at Gabriel. “It's your show now.” She walked to the doors, before turning back to us. “I'll see you all in a few hours for dinner. I've no doubt you'll have worked up quite an appetite.” With that, she left.

Well, crap. No coffee and doughnuts.

Tony raised his hand with the same bored expression he'd worn since I'd met him. “So when do we start training?”

“You've already started.” All heads turned towards Gabriel, who'd been Mister Quiet Man up to this point. He stood up and paced as he spoke. “If you're smart, you'll remember everything you've just heard and what it's taught you about your fellow Wild Cards. You need to know what to expect from each other when the pressure's on and stakes are high.”

Tony smirked. “I don't see how any of these sob stories could make a difference one way or the other.”

Guess Wild Cards weren't picked genetically for their personalities.

Gabriel gave him a total hairy eyeball. “Then let's hope you're better at fighting than you are at listening.”

Tony's smirk deepened. “Seriously, dude. Tell me what I'm supposed to get from knowing Redwood Barbie here”—he jerked his head towards me—”outlived her boyfriend.”

I hooked a foot under one of Tony's chair legs and pulled hard. Seconds later Tony was flat on his back, ass over teakettle and chair back. I stared down at him. “For starters, jerk, you know I won't put up with any shit from you.”

“And she might outlive you too.” Extending a hand, Gabriel pulled Tony to his feet. “Unless you pay attention. Ready to train, everyone?”

Tony eyed me with new respect and what I suspected might be the beginning of a crush. “Shit, yeah. Can Ashley be my partner?”

Oh yeah. Gotta love those post-adolescent hormones and guys who go for warrior women. Beat a guy up and he's yours for life, the anti Red-Sonya complex. Oh well, better than the uber-macho freaks that can't stand being shown up by a female. At least I didn't have to worry about Tony gunning for me. Just drooling on me.

Gabriel slapped Tony on one shoulder. “We'll switch off so you all get a chance to work with each other.”

“Thank you,” I mouthed at Gabriel when Tony wasn't looking.

One corner of Gabriel's mouth lifted in reply. “Let's go, then. Since it's your first session, I'll take it easy on you.”

Simone hadn't been kidding about the whole “working up an appetite” thing. And Gabriel was obviously being facetious when he said he'd take it easy on us.

He started with basic hand-to-hand, specifically methods of disabling without grappling. In other words, how to not let the enemy (i.e. ravenous ghouls) get a hold of you. And if they do, how to disengage without being bitten or otherwise mauled.

He also stressed the importance of maintaining an awareness of our surroundings while dealing with the zombies. This made it easier to keep any eye out for escape routes, objects that could be used offensively or defensively, and more damn zombies.

Sure, Wild Cards didn't have to worry about infection, but we could still have our carotid arteries ripped out or our limbs torn off. Either one would most likely result in death, just without the subsequent reanimation of our corpses. And while yeah, the thought of lurching around while rotting on the hoof was gross and disturbing, the thought of just being dead was even worse. At least to me.

At any rate, we spent two hours learning how to fall, roll, deflect our opponent's energy, blah blah blah—lots of blocks, throws, joint locks. A lot of emphasis on avoiding the mouth area, even if we couldn't be infected by bites any more.

How cool was it that this stuff came so easily? Kind of like being turned into a vampire in the Buffy-verse: you're suddenly gifted with martial arts skills even if you were a total non-athletic geek before the bite. Okay, not that unrealistic, but our coordination, strength, and muscle memory were definitely amped.

“Excuse me,” I said to Gabriel after slamming Kai to the mat by jerking on his arm while simultaneously knocking his legs out from under him with a foot sweep.

Gabriel paused, one arm wrapped around Mack's throat, the other pinning Mack's arm behind his back.

“Won't some of this stuff just … like … rip off a limb or two? I mean, we're talking rotting walking corpses.”

Gabriel shrugged. “It could happen.”

“Schweet,” said Tony in a passable Cartman imitation.
So
not surprised he watched
South Park
.

“So if we can't really hurt them or hold them, won't they just keep trying to snack on us?”

“If you rip off an arm, that's one less limb it has to grab you with. A leg? It can't run after you. And you don't run the risk of infection from splatter like most people. So more time to take the brain out of action. No brain, no zombie.”

I nodded, wondering if I could beat a zombie's brain in with its own leg. Probably not. Too squishy.

“Nice takedown, by the way.” Gabriel nodded at me.

“I'll say,” Kai groaned, getting slowly to his feet.

“Um…” Mack raised his unpinned hand, neck still in Gabriel's chokehold. “Can we get on with this? This is just not a comfortable position.”

* * * *

When we finally stopped for dinner, I was dripping with sweat, exhausted, and so ravenous I didn't care that there wasn't time to shower before chow time. We were pretty much all smelly and sweaty. Kind of like when everyone eats garlic so no one notices anyone else's stinky breath.

We ate in a small cafeteria adjacent to the gym. I wondered how much of this underground space lay directly beneath D. B. Patterson Hall, if any of it spread out further. The whole complex reminded me of the Magic Castle in Hollywood—much bigger on the inside than it appears on the outside.

The Wild Cards weren't the only people eating in the cafeteria. Medical staff, soldiers, and various anonymous-looking clerical types drifted in, clad in Hazmat gear sans helmets. They'd load their trays with food and scarf it down before heading back out. A few nodded at Gabriel, but for the most part our little bunch of zombie-retardant Wild Cards was treated as if we didn't exist.

Wow. Zero popularity points for being partially invulnerable.

“Is it just me,” I whispered to Lily, sitting on my right, “Or are they acting like we all just farted on their pillows?”

She giggled. I noticed she'd tucked her hair behind one ear so half her face was now visible.

“Don't worry,” said Simone, overhearing us from the other side of the table. “It's natural for people to be intimidated by things they don't understand. They'll get over it.”

“Considering we'll be putting our asses on the line for them, I sure hope so.” I stabbed a piece of steak with my fork for emphasis. I didn't have a lot of patience for Wild Card phobia after all we'd already been through and what we were being trained to face.

“Hear, hear!” Mack raised his glass of milk in a toast. I picked up my water glass and clinked against it. Lily followed suit, along with Kai, Simone, and Gabriel.

“Jeez, that's gay,” said Tony. So much for political correctness, but he did pick up his soda and wave it in our direction.

Kaitlyn ignored us, huddled in her own little world at the end of the table. She'd done the work during training, but reluctantly, as though it pained her to have to touch any of us. I wanted to feel sorry for her but she pretty much made it impossible. Bitch with a capital B.

“Hey, everyone.”

Speaking of bitches, Jamie, Ms. Hot Topic herself, stood next to our table dressed in black-and-fuchsia striped tights, short black tattered skirt, sparkly fuchsia T-shirt, and some truly amazing black platform boots that would have been comfortable on a ‘70s pimp. No Hazmat fashion for Ms. Hot Topic; she looked like Tinkerbell's evil twin. Or eviler twin, considering Tink tried to get Wendy killed.

Wonderful. Another person who didn't like me.

Jamie set a tray of food on the table and inserted herself between Simone and Mack. She didn't quite do a hip check on Mack to make room next to Simone, but close enough. Mack moved aside with good grace, raising his eyebrows and shrugging.

“Are you a Wild Card too?” Kai looked Jamie up and down, definitely checking her out. I could have told him he was wasting his time, but he'd figure it out for himself. Or not. Kai strikes me as one of those guys who has unwavering faith in his own myth.

Jamie flicked him a brief glance. “No. I'm Professor Fraser's assistant.” Her focus went back to Simone as if drawn by gravitational pull.

I wondered if Simone had any idea just how gargantuan a crush Jamie had on her or if it was even a blip on her gaydar. Or maybe she knew and liked it. Maybe she—

Okay,
so
not something to worry about right now. Simone's sexual orientation was totally none of my business anyway. At least Jamie didn't have the hots for Gabriel. I could admire him without worrying about laser stares of death if Jamie caught me looking at him.

“Jamie, you remember Ashley from Pandemics in History?” Simone smiled at me.

“Yes,” said Jamie, giving me a laser stare of death.

Oh well.

* * * *

After dinner we had a welcome break from kicking each other's butts, and focused on a more esoteric form of training: watching excerpts from zombie movies. We're talking the good, the bad, and the really shitty.

We sat in one of the lecture halls—Room 217, in fact—where Simone and Gabriel did a poor man's
Mystery Science Theater 3000
commentary (except serious), pointing out facts and fallacies during each bit (yes, you really do need to shoot them in the head or otherwise take out the brain, just in case you were wondering).

“OMG,” I whispered to Lily after the fifth excerpt, “We're in the film class from hell.”

Lily giggled, then immediately shushed when Jamie, sitting by the DVD player, shot a dirty look our way. I stuck my tongue out at her and grinned as she turned away in a huff. Childish, I know, but satisfying.

I mean, I love movies as much as the next person, but how many zombie flicks can people watch without having spaghetti with red sauce totally ruined for them?

“Killer…”

“Yeah, dude!” Tony and Kai, who had bonded with almost frightening speed during the last hour, gave each other a high five as a zombie got its head taken off with a scythe and FX blood and goo spurted everywhere.

Okay, maybe Tony and Kai would still be chowing down at Old Spaghetti Factory after our training, but personally, if I saw one more rotting ghoul doing the taffy pull with someone's intestines, well, nor even a Meg Ryan film retrospective could make things right. Heck, maybe she would become the world's cutest zombie. I could just see her cocking her head to one side in that little puppy dog way she used in all of her movies (except for
Addicted to Love,
where she kicked ass) right before sinking her teeth into warm flesh.

The movie currently playing was the remake of
Dawn of the Dead
. “Fast-moving zombies such as the ones portrayed here,” commented Simone as the heroes slammed the mall door in the face of a really creepy one-armed zombie, “are products of the MTV generation's filmmakers. Short attention span.”

I raised my hand and she nodded. “So you're saying there's no such thing as a zombie who can run?”

Simone opened her mouth to answer then, then paused and exchanged an undecipherable look with Gabriel. “Let's pause the film here, shall we? Based on the records our organization has kept through the centuries, fast-moving zombies do not exist. They may be ambulatory, but their bodies are rotting. Zombies shamble, stumble, lurch, and crawl. They do not run.”

“Yes!” Tony punched the air in a victory sign. We all looked at him. “I had a bet with Manny. If he wasn't dead, he'd totally owe me twenty bucks.”

Kai raised his hand. “What about the smart zombies?”

“We're looking for a zombie no one's ever seen before,” said Tony. “Some kind of smart zombie.”

I rolled my eyes at Tony's paraphrased movie quote from
Starship Troopers
. Kai caught me in mid eye-roll and grinned. Oh no.

“Frankly, Tony, I find the idea of a zombie that thinks offensive.”

“I think you've both already had your brains sucked out,” I growled. “Now would you shut up so Simone can finish?”

Simone smiled and shook her head. “So far, aside from rudimentary motor functions from their lives, no smart zombies.”

Mack interrupted the proceedings with a huge, jaw-cracking yawn. “Sorry,” he said sheepishly.

“Let's call it a day, shall we?” Simone gestured to the back of the room. “On the table are a variety of fiction and pseudo non-fiction books on zombie apocalypses. Some are survival techniques, others much like these movies, works of fiction with kernels of useful information tucked into unexpected places. Consider them homework. They're rated from one ten as far as accuracy and efficacy. I'd recommend Zombie
Survival Guide
and
Zombie Combat Manual
. The authors have done their homework.”

Yes, Virginia, there really
is
a zombie apocalypse.

* * * *

I didn't go back to my little pseudo hospital room. Instead Lily and I shared a room on the same floor as the cafeteria and gym, thankfully above the med ward and the lab. It was very much like any other college dorm, minus any personal touches like band posters or family photos, but it had two twin beds and, joy of joys, our own bathroom.

“OMG, I am
so
glad we don't have to share a bathroom with everyone else.” I collapsed on one of the beds.

“Me too.” Lily smiled at me shyly. “I wonder who has to share a room with Kaitlyn.”

I grinned, relieved I wouldn't have to totally hide my inner bitch with my new roomie. “Bet she and Jamie have to share. Maybe they'll cancel each other out.” I stretched, feeling the aches and twinges in muscles and joints. “Is it okay with you if I take a shower? I promise I'll be quick.”

I forced myself out of the hot water in record time and pulled on a pair of sweats and a tank top I'd found in the little dresser between the beds. The bathroom medicine cabinet held basics like soap, deodorant, toothpaste, and toothbrushes, as well as a few luxury items such as face cleanser, moisturizing cream, and lip balm. The balm had a slight rose tint to it, and even the hint of color made me feel more human. I look like death without lipstick.

Crawling in between the sheets, I skimmed over the
Zombie Survival Guide
while Lily showered. By the time she came out of the bathroom, clad in green scrubs, I'd learned plate armor is a bad choice to wear in zombie combat, and chain mail, while slightly preferable, is also a bad idea unless you've trained in it for years. Guess all those Society of Creative Anachronism folks had one up on the rest of us, after all.

Lily jumped on her bed, burrowing under the covers like a little kid hiding from the boogeyman. “Do you want to read some more?”

“Nah.” I put the
ZSG
on the dresser next to a little banker's lamp. “Lights out?”

“Yes, please.”

I reached out and pulled the switch on the lamp. The room was immediately cast into pitch black, no ambient light at all. This must be what it was like to be blind.

We lay there in our respective beds for a few minutes, one of those thick, aware silences meant to be broken. Lily sniffled.

“You okay?”

A pause, then, “Yeah … I'm just worried about Binkey and Doodle.”

“Er … are they your roommates?”
And if so, who the hell named them Binkey and Doodle?

“No, they're my cats.”

“Are they outside?”

“No. They're locked in my apartment.”

“Do they have food?”

Another pause accompanied by a sniffle. “I have a feeder, but it won't last too long. They like to eat a lot. I bought a bag of dry food a couple days ago, but I didn't refill the feeder.”

“Is the bag out where they can get it? Because if they're anything like my parents’ cats, they'll have ripped that puppy wide open by now.”

“You think so?” Lily sounded distinctly more cheerful.

“I know so.”

Another pause. “They had a bowl of water, but they go through it fast.”

“Can they get into the bathroom? Do you leave the seat up?”

“Um…I don't, but my roommate boyfriend does … or did. Casey was crashing there until he found his own place while Mom was out of town.” A pause, then guiltily, “My mom doesn't know.”

“So hopefully he did the guy thing and left the seat up, so they have plenty of food and water for now.”