“Is my brother there? A little boy?” I had to speak loudly to be heard over the engine of the truck and the sound of gunfire. A few other soldiers were on the ground, shooting at the never ending supply of zombies. “At the quarantine. I have to find him.”
“You’ll have to get on the truck to find out!” Tatum yelled and motioned to the truck.
“Remy! Just get on the damn truck!” Lazlo shouted, startling me. I was even more surprised by how happy I was to hear his voice and know he’d made it.
Much to Tatum’s relief, I climbed onto the truck. Bench seats ran along both sides, and three soldiers were sitting on one side, along with a cache of weapons on the floor. Blue, Lazlo, and Harlow sat along the other bench, wrapped in blankets, the heavy duty kind they used for moving. As soon as I got in, a soldier put one on me and pushed me down so I’d sit next to Harlow.
Tatum yelled something to the other men on the ground, and he jumped in the truck. Within seconds, everyone had loaded inside, and we drove away. I pulled the blanket more tightly around me, thankful for the thickness that would hide the blood sleeping through.
I was covered in zombie blood, which wasn’t surprising, but I was covered in my own blood too. I didn’t want anyone to know that I’d been bitten, that I had to be infected.
“I’m looking for my brother,” I repeated, talking to Tatum. He sat across the aisle from me, and he seemed to have some authority. “My name is Remy King, and his name is Max King. He’s probably in the medical ward. I have to see him.”
“I don’t know anything about it.” Tatum kept his steel blue eyes fixed on some point behind me. “We’re almost to the quarantine. That’s why the zombies are so bad.”
“What do you mean?” Blue asked, leaning forward so he could hear.
“The zombies are attracted to people.” Tatum turned to Blue when he spoke. “The larger the group of people, the stronger the attraction. Zombies have been congregating around here so bad we’ve given up trying to kill them all. We just keep them locked out.”
“Is that safe?” Harlow asked nervously. “The quarantine won’t get broken in?”
“No, this place is secure,” Tatum assured her with a brash smile.
“I need to see my brother,” I interrupted their conversation. Tatum’s smile disappeared, and he wouldn’t even answer me this time. “I need to see him! Is he there? If he’s not there, then you need to tell me now!”
“Remy!” Lazlo said, looking over at me. “Calm down! We’re okay, and we’re almost there! You’ll have plenty of time to find out.”
Swallowing hard, I looked down at the floor and didn’t say anything. I didn’t have time anymore. If Max was here, I had to see him while I was still coherent, so I could at least say goodbye to him.
If he wasn’t here, then I didn’t even want go in with them. I didn’t want to risk infecting anyone if I didn’t have to. But if there was any chance of seeing my brother, I had to take it.
The truck stopped, and a soldier explained that we were stopping at the main gate to the quarantine. A man came around the back of the truck, shining a flashlight inside and asked what they’d found. Tatum reported four injured civilians in a zombie pit. The man with the flashlight waved us on, and the truck moved again.
We stopped almost immediately, and I saw the gate from the back of the truck. It was giant and metal, at least twenty feet tall, if not more. Brick walls ran along on either side of it, and when Tatum ushered us off the truck, I realized that we had only gone in the first set of doors. An identical gate stood on the other side, still closed.
“What’s going on?” I asked nervously. Tatum, rather smartly sensing my opposition, grabbed my arm and led me along. “Where are you taking us?”
“Remy,” Harlow whimpered, responding to my anxiety.
About as big as two or three city blocks, the brick alcove had small metal shacks all over it. Tatum dragged me towards one, while other soldiers led Harlow, Lazlo, and Blue to separate ones. Once they realized where they were going, Lazlo and Harlow began fighting them. I understood what was happening, and under ordinary circumstances, I would’ve calmed them, but I couldn’t now.
“No, stop.” I tried prying my arm out of Tatum’s iron grip, but he wouldn’t let go. “No, please. You don’t understand. I have to see my brother.”
“It’s just standard procedure,” Tatum said flatly. He opened the door to one of the shacks, and he had to physically lift me up by my arm and toss me inside.
“No! Wait!” I scrambled to my feet and charged for the door, narrowly getting my leg in before he slammed it shut. I’d have a nasty bruise for days after, but it’d be worth it. “No! I have to see Max!”
“Calm down!” Tatum was bewildered by the insistency in my reaction. “It’s just a clean hut! We leave you in here for three days to make sure you don't have the virus, and then you’re free to go find your brother or do whatever the hell it is you want to do!”
“No, please! Just let me see Max first!” I begged, but he pushed my leg in. As hard as I tried, he slammed the door shut. I beat my open palms on it, shouting at him. “Please! I have to see Max! Please! Just let me see him, and then you can do whatever you want with me!”
He didn’t answer, not that I blamed him. I’m sure he walked away from me as soon as he had the chance. I rested my head against the cold, heavy metal of the door and breathed in deeply. A frustrated tear slid down my cheek, and I wiped it away.
I turned back to look at the room. It smelled of bleach and disinfectant, signs of cleaning up after other contaminated individuals, I’m sure. A solitary light bulb hung from the ceiling, so at least they had electricity.
The room couldn’t be larger than a six-by-eight cell. No windows. No toilet, just a bucket in the corner for excrement. A cot sat pressed up against the wall. The only other things in here were me, the blanket, and the clothes on my back.
I went over and sat on the cot, wrapping the blanket tighter around me. I had never felt more defeated in my life, and it was hard fighting back tears. I had come so, so close to seeing Max, and I had lost it at the last minute. I lay on my side, pulling my knees up to my chest.
At least I wouldn’t have to be a zombie for long. Tatum, I’m sure, wouldn’t hesitate to kill me as soon as I showed definite symptoms. This quarantine appeared to be much more secure than the last one. The brick walls would be harder to penetrate, and the soldiers seemed more plentiful and prepared.
The “clean huts” were a genius idea. It was the same thing they’d done with Ol’ Yeller to keep him from killing something innocent without risking death or infection to everybody else. It hadn’t worked out so well for Ol’ Yeller, and it wouldn’t for me either, but it showed some good palnning.
It would be a nice, safe place for Lazlo, Harlow, Blue, and my brother.
I shouldn’t have gotten so involved with other people, because I knew they would only slow me down. But I couldn’t help it. I couldn’t just leave them behind, and I couldn’t not care because it would be easier that way. Max would understand that.
I curled up on the cot and waited to die.
When you know you have less than three days to live, sleep becomes impossible, even when there’s nothing else to do at all. Sometimes, I’d hear Lazlo singing or Harlow crying, but they sounded too far away to really talk to.
An armed guard brought me a meal three times a day, consisting of bread, raw vegetables, and water. I ate mostly because I was bored. My appetite had already died.
What sleep I did mange was filled with horrendous nightmares. Vivid dreams of me turning into a monster and killing all the people I cared about. Even people who were already dead, like Vega, Lia, and Beck, and my parents. I tore them apart, and I woke up screaming.
“Remy!” Lazlo shouted, his voice muffled through the walls. “Remy!”
“I’m okay!” I yelled back, even though it hurt. My throat had gone raw from screaming. My cheeks were wet with tears, and I wiped at them with the back of my hand and struggled to sit up in bed. “I’m alright!”
“What happened?” Even the distance couldn’t mask the panic in Lazlo’s words.
“Nothing! Bad dream!” I wanted to lie, but there was nothing else for me to scream about.
Except for turning into a zombie, which I’m sure he thought was happening. So did I, but I didn’t seem to have any symptoms yet. I felt like hell, but I was covered in untreated wounds, including a giant bite.
My clothes were filthy and covered in dried blood. I hadn’t bothered to try to clean them off or tend my injuries because I kept expecting to die any minute.
I lifted up my shirt to investigate the worst of it. The edges of the bite were red and swollen. The wound itself had partially scabbed over, but it kept breaking open and oozing blood and pus. My blood still looked like blood. It hadn’t taken on that greenish hue yet.
I had a thin cut across my stomach from when I had sliced it on a piece of glass in the car, but I only worried about it because I’d been splattered with zombie viscera. Broken glass had also scratched up my knees and legs, but they were too small to even care.
I had bruises all over, and my entire body was sore from the car rolling and the fighting. It was only natural that I felt like hell. I analyzed every pain and groan, wondering if that was a symptom. They might be normal aches and pains associated with everything I’d gone through, or they might be the virus killing my body.
A heavy knock came at the door, followed by Tatum commanding me to get back. I’m not sure if that was standard whenever they opened the door, or if that was just for my benefit since I had put up such a fight about going in here.
Although, in my defense, I hadn’t fought at all since then. I hadn’t even asked about Max. I’d been trying to except my fate.