Chapter 2 cont...

......Katrina looked at Chris, her eyes rhetorically asking if he wanted her to continue.
“Go on.” He confirmed.
“Ok. It was a late night, and a warning hadn’t been heard yet—“
“What warning?” Chris asked.
“I’m getting to that—“
“Sorry.”
She went on; “There would be random cases of people being out walking their dog, or sitting at a park bench and all of a sudden they were…transformed. They went wild attacking whoever or whatever they could. Apparently –-from what I heard-- people would find a random dog skinned, with barely any meat and no eyes, but still attached to the leash. That’s when they knew someone had just transformed. The town decided that we needed a system to alert everyone if there was a known case on the loose. So the church’s bell tower got turned into a warning tower instead; one ring for each case, or a continuous amount for a group of infected.
“Anyways, So the night of my cousin’s infection, there was a guy in the local coffee shop visiting with an old relative that he hadn’t seen in years. The coffee shop was full of people like it usually is. This guy must have had a previous encounter with an infected earlier in the week but didn’t change in 24 hours so continued on with his business. He stood up all of a sudden and—this is where I don’t know most of the story—But long story short: he attacked a bunch of people in the shop and most of them transformed immediately. There was one survivor who escaped without so much as a scratch: the manager. She later went crazy from what Mama said. According to my parents, there was a lot more information that would be good for your little article, but they didn’t tell me. Too young or something.” Katrina glanced back out her window.

Chris was in shock at what he was hearing. These were stories that were told around campfires, not on the way to where he was going to be conducting interviews, or god-willing: sleep. His white knuckles were gripping the steering wheel for dear life and when he glanced in the rear-view mirror, he saw the blood had drained from his head, which would explain partially why his heart was running the half marathon in his chest. He wondered how much worse these interviews were going to get. He would have to pull it together if all this was true and he was about to walk into the aftermath of this devastation.
Without hesitation, Katrina took a deep breath and continued her story:“That same night is when my cousin got infected. Emily was only 16 and super smart. She had gone to the library that night like a lot of nights. She left for home at the same time of the attack. Usually her dad came pick her up, but this night he had to work late. Emily took a back road cutting through alleys and the neighbor’s open yards. There was one guy—or girl—that we think was a victim of the coffee shop. It had transformed already and it was hiding in a corner. As soon as it sensed Emily, whether it was by smell, or sight or some other perception they might have, it jumped on her and started scratching her face and neck. It hadn’t started into her flesh—eating I mean—when a neighbor, and watchman, Gregory had shown up and blew the thing to bits on top of her. Emily was still unconscious when Gregory carried her back to my aunt and uncle’s place. That was very brave of him; she was so beat up she could have transformed in a matter of minutes and attacked him. But he still walked at least three more blocks to her house.”

Chris was unsure how he was supposed to believe any of this. Moreover: how did the government, press, or all of them keep this from reaching the rest of America? Someone must have tried to write a truthful article and some paid-off editor must have killed it.
As scared as he was, his adrenaline was skyrocketing through his body. He was going to be the first person to tell everyone what happened in the little town of Forest Hills. And he would be the one to tell them that all the fictional stories they were hearing as children--about Zombies-- were actually the truth; the world has just been hiding it from them like some conspiracy. Chris swallowed deeply and realized his mouth was extremely dry. “I know we’re probably close now, but do you mind if we stop at a gas station or something? I have to get something to drink.”
“Yeah, that’s fine. I could use something as well. I think I saw a sign for one that should be coming—and there it is. Talk about timing!”
Chris drove on the shoulder until he could pull in. It was a small worn down gas station with the old pumps that had a clear canister on top. Lucky I didn’t need gas he thought.
“Can I get you something?” Chris asked Katrina.
“Just water please.”
“Okay.”

When Chris stepped out of the car the heat took him by surprise. His first breath was a mix of dust, humidity, gas fumes and a hint of oxygen. He sprinted into the building and was greeted with the same mix of air, only this time flavored by a sweet and sour smell he recognized as body odor. He immediately looked to his right where a fan was pushing the smell around the small room. Standing in front of it was an old man, small with no more than three hairs protruding off his head like a bug’s antennae. He stared at Chris, tonguing his splintered toothpick. Chris nodded and continued to look for water. There were no refrigerators in the building but he noticed in a crate on the floor in the corner aside a sleeping—or what Chris assumed was sleeping and not dead—Doberman. He cautiously bent over to grab the waters. The layer of dust on the bottles wasn’t what concerned Chris; it was if the Doberman had used the crate in place of a fire hydrant.
“’He won’t ‘urt ya!” The old man yelled. “’He’s too old to do anythin’. He takes after ‘is old man; He ain’t got no teeth anyways.” The man smiled politely confirming that the dog did take after him.
“Mmm…” That was all Chris could say.
“You gonna buy them waters?”
“Um yeah I was planning on it. Should I buy some antibacterial wipes for the top?” Chris joked, tapping the bottles.
“Nah, we don’ carry those here. Not a lot o’ people come this way.” The old man atried to slick back his four hairs but got a handful of sweat. He looked at his catch then flicked it onto the floor before he grabbed the bottles out of Chris’ hand. He tossed them in a bag and handed it to Chris. “Where ya headed?”
Chris didn’t want to tell him since they were already so close. He must know what happened in Forest Hills and Chris could only assume he didn’t feel amorous towards the small town.
“Umm, just like a few more minutes on the road I think.”
The old man’s voice lowered: “Not Forest ‘ills is it?”
“Yeah, that’s it…I think.” Chris croaked.
“Ugh.” The old man shook his head. “We don’t take nicely to those people. I’m gonna politely ask ya ta leave my store ‘fore I have Jaguar here chase ya out ” He pointed to a very much alive and well Doberman sitting at his feet, the dogs hazel eyes peering into Chris’.
“But I haven’t given you any—“
“GET OUT! An’ tell that girl of yours to put out her goddamn smoke!”
Chris ran out of the store. He did not expect such a hostile reaction. As the screen door slammed behind him, he saw Katrina leaning against the building, smoking.
“What are you doing? You can’t smoke at a gas station!”
“I’m not anywhere near a pump and besides, that’s just a suggestion not a universal rule.” She took another drag before dropping it on the ground and walking towards the car.
Chris shook his head at her and stepped on the fiery cherry. “You know those things will kill you.”
Katrina gave him an evil eye “I think I’m close enough to death.” She stepped into the car leaving Chris feeling guilty about his comment.

When Chris pulled out onto the road, a car passed in front of him. He was sure it was blonde Barbie but couldn’t be sure.
Until now, Chris didn’t notice that AC was neither blowing air nor conditioning it. He pulled off his sweater and noticed Katrina glance over at him, letting her eyes linger a little longer than what would be considered a gestural glance.
“What?” He threw the sweater in the back and handed a bottle of water to her.
“Nothing. Just, the sweater, it made you look…bigger.” She took the bottle from him and twisted off the cap. As she raised the bottle to her mouth, Chris yelped; “Uh, I’d wipe the rim of that off first.”
Katrina wasn’t going to bother asking ‘why’. It would probably end up leading to a pointless conversation.
“Okay.” She covered her hand with her sleeve and polished the bottle mouth.
Chris did the same. “You never know what you can catch these days!” After the words came out of his mouth he became stiff in his seat. Not again he thought. he turned slowly towards Katrina: “I’m sorry, I didn’t mea—“. But Katrina was laughing which made Chris laugh in relief.
Chris wondered if this is what Katrina was like three years ago, before the Forest Hills incident. He was going to enjoy this feeling for a moment before asking what became of her cousin Emily.