CHapter 11, the mansion and mary-anne

....She relaxed for only a second before she took a step forward

The driveway curved to the left but they followed a narrower stone path to the front doors. The walk was so long Chris contemplated humming The yellow brick road. Once they got to the door, Katrina fiddled with her keys until she found the right one. She paused for a moment to think about what she was doing and unlocked the door. Chris pushed it open; it was heavy but smooth; not too creaky. It took a moment for their eyes to adjust to the darkness in the room. Katrina immediately noticed that everything was set up the same as it was left; even the plants were in their set positions—only dead-- as if they stayed guard for the house until the end.

“Woah,” Chris exclaimed. “This is amazing! You lived here?”

“Yup.” Katrina walked forward, taking her purse off her shoulder and setting it on the table by the staircase; it was a habit to put her things there, her mother hated it. She said it looked ‘messy’. Katrina remembered this and slung her purse back over her shoulder. She took a glance at herself in the gigantic—but dusty-- gold-leafed mirror that was hung above the table; she tucked her stray hairs behind her ears and fingered her jaw line—which seemed a lot more boney than the last time she looked in this mirror.

Chris had stopped and was staring towards the chairs in front of the fireplace. “So those are the chairs. That you…”

“Last saw them in. Uh-huh.” Katrina walked over to the one on the right, facing the fireplace; “This was daddy’s,” she turned and sat in the one opposite it; it was more round and stout than the tall stiff one, “This was mom’s,” she sat down. “She liked to curl up in hers, so it’s more comfortable. Daddy’s was always business as usual—no time for comfort.”

Chris sat on the hearth, only taking up an eight of the fireplace. He could feel the fraying rug under his toes but didn’t think twice about it. He took a moment to look around the room; there were doors almost everywhere it seemed and he wondered how easily it would be to get lost. Another thought flickered through his mind: of playing hide-and-go-seek with his brother in their family’s home.

Nothing in this home was done without extravagance; even the candlesticks were unusually large, it was like Thumbelina's palace.

Katrina stood up and started walking to the staircase by the front door. Chris followed.

All along the wall lining the stairs, were pictures of Katrina and other family members. There were ones of Clint and his wife; Emily and Katrina playing in the pool and Mama giving the camera a glare. Chris was eyeing the pictures with as much force as Katrina was trying not to.

After Chris’ calves started burning from what seemed like five hundred steps, they reached the second level. Katrina lead them to the right where there was a long hallway that lead to the library in the turret. Katrina ducked in to the room directly to the right. When she opened the door, Chris felt like he had walked in to a scene from a modern-day Romeo & Juliet; in the middle of the room was an overly large canopy bed draped in never-ending lengths of bright blue and pink, silk cloths; the dresser across from it was twice as tall as him with the filigree extending from the mirror; In the corner, next to the bay window was a dollhouse practically big enough for a five year old to play in and surrounding it on shelves were a hundred dolls all beautifully kept.

Katrina saw his eyes flickering over each doll. “My mom used to collect those for me. I wasn’t supposed to play with them but I couldn’t help it, so that trunk beside the house is filled—and locked—with the same dolls but in boxes.” She walked over to the corner with memories of each doll passing through her mind as quickly as her eyes could pass over them. “I suppose they’re probably worth a pretty penny now.”

Katrina sat on the trunk and Chris on the bed, careful not to mess up the 3 year old made bed. They seemed so far away from each other with the sheer size of the room. “Ok, well you got me in here can we go now?”

“not until I get to see the rest of the house.”

They heard a huge bang followed by shattering glass ricochet up the stairs from the foyer. Katrina became completely alert and jumped to her feet. Before Chris could get to the door Katrina was already on her way down the stairs.

“What the hell are you doing?”

As Chris rounded the corner he saw Mary-anne Dawes with a massive brick in her hand, half way through the front window.

Chapter 11, Katrina's Mansion

Emily turned her head towards Katrina one more time and lightly smiled with her lips pressed together.

Chris was looking at the family photos on Clint’s coffee table when Katrina came upstairs. He turned around and she smiled, “Shall we go?”

“Yeah. To your old house?”

“Not quite what I had in mind.” Katrina was gripping her purse rather tightly.

“Come on. You have to face you fear. I’m here. You need to go back sooner than later; get it over with. From what I understand, we’re right near by.” Katrina turned towards the front door while Chris followed out of the house.

11.

They walked to the right once out of Clint’s house and continued on down the street about two blocks. Katrina wasn’t interested in speaking to Chris but he figured that was due to her nerves; this would be her first time back to the house in over three years.

“I’m not happy about this Christopher.” She looked at him for only a split second.

“I know you’re not. And not even my mother calls me that.”

They ran out of blocks to continue walking on and when they made their last right, Chris looked at the properties on the left side of the road. They were lined with large fences which only allowed you to see the tops of the roofs, but that was a good indicator of the sheer size of the mansions. The over-sized rot-iron gates were just a minor touch to the significance of the property.

Chris could only see two houses—or roof tops rather--but knew there were more properties that lined the street; he remembered from when they were on Mama’s roof top the other night. They crossed the street and what had resembled forest, was actually a brick wall covered in over grown weeds and plants. They continued walking a few more steps until they came to the first rot-iron gate. The two intricately designed doors were at least twelve feet tall and were—together-- 20 feet across. Now looking at the house through the gates, it looked like a modern brick castle.

Katrina was trying to maneuver the chain locking the gates together so she could spread apart the gates enough to squeeze through. “Mama has the key to the gate’s lock, but I have one to the house too. She’s been taking care of the place a little. Can you squeeze through here?” Katrina was forcing the gates apart with her arms.

“I think so.” Chris sucked in and ducked under Katrina’s arm forcing his upper half through first then slithered each leg through like a snake. His right leg got caught underneath the gate on its way through and he stumbled forward. Katrina managed to catch the back of his shirt and restore his balance with one arm. “You’re not very good at this ‘getting around on two feet’ thing are you.”

Chris felt his face flush. “It’s never been a strong suit.”

They both stood staring at the house. Forty feet away from them was a two-story, modern Victorian-style home. Chris was astonished at the size of the wooden doors with rot-iron hinges the size of his head. On each side of the door were floor-to-ceiling windows Tradition burgundy drapes were blocking any peeping toms from looking in. The upper level had a balcony running the length of the home with white French doors in the middle. There were six foot, curved windows on each side. They didn’t have drapes on them and looked like they might be a seating area in a bedroom. On the left of the house was a large turret that ran from the ground to ten feet above the second level. There appeared to be an attic, but only two triangular windowa set out from the house and barely big enough to get more than a tunnel vision view from. Chris could see more peaks of roof popping out from the back and there looked to be another turret in the back right of the house. He was distracted by the sound of Katrina jingling her keys out of her purse. “Ready?” He asked putting his arm around her. She relaxed for only a second before she took a step forward.

What's in the basement? Chapter 11

....He turned and walked through the hallway into his bedroom.

They all waited for the door to close before anyone moved. Katrina grabbed her bag and headed for a small door just off the living room. She opened it quickly and lightly shut it behind her.

Chris stood staring at the closed door, like a lost puppy left in a stranger's house; unconsciously imagining what was going on downstairs. Mama startled him when she put her had on his forearm. “I’m gonna go now chicken. I’ll see you two later?”

“Oh, I don’t know what time we’ll be home. We have to go over to Mary-Jo’s for dinner tonight. That reminds me: do you want to come? She asked us to ask you.”

“Oh dear me, tell her ‘no, thank you’. I think I’ve enough of the rumor-mill today—- don’t tell her that part.”

Chris chuckled and smiled at Mama. “I won’t.”

Mama winked at him and continued towards the hallway. “Oh, and one more thing: her meat pie has nothing on mine— no matter what she says.”

*****

Katrina entered the basement slowly and quietly. It used to be a place where Emily and her would go to play away from the grown-ups. Emily used to talk about how she would decorate it like her own apartment.
Katrina looked to the left at the familiar shape of Emily sleeping; she would be so disappointed in the way Clint had tacked some ratty bed-sheets to the walls to cover the pink fiberglass insulation. Emily’s legs were tied together and then each was tied to the bottom corners of the bed. The same was of her hands; only the rope was tied strategically to a bar on each side of the bed so she wasn’t restricted to one sleeping position. She was laying in the position she was most fond of: her arms bent up beside her head—it reminded Katrina of when they used to dance around singing YMCA, spelling all the letters out with their arms. Emily’s head was turned to the left as if she was looking out the basement window. She looked almost normal.

Katrina moved even more cautiously towards her, carefully reaching into the small pocket on the front of her purse—never removing her eyes from Emily. Emily’s feet twitched to the right, stopping Katrina half way. She reached further in the pocket, feeling the shape of the needle and then the small bottle of liquid medication.

Once she got close enough to Emily to hear the pattern of her breath, she slowly pulled the utensils out of her bag. She removed the cap off the needle with her teeth and only looked away for enough time to pierce the needle through the lid of tiny bottle, and then again to make sure there were no air bubbles in the needle.

Katrina took another step closer to Emily. She grabbed the rope on Emily’s right arm and slowly slid it down the pole until it was straight. Katrina bunched up any loose rope and held it firmly with her left hand so Emily wouldn’t be able to move it. Emily inhaled deeply and turned her head towards Katrina, opened her eyes and formed her mouth into the shape of a smile. Only, this wasn’t a friendly smile; it was more like an efficient way to make a hissing sound, showing her displeasure at her current situation.

Quickly, Katrina stuck the needle into her upper arm and plunged the stopper until it wouldn’t go any further, all it’s contents emptied into Emily’s arm. Emily thrashed briefly, but Katrina did not waver; in a minute she would be calm.

Katrina disposed of the needle and the glass bottle in the trash beside the bed. She watched Emily for a brief moment, her eyes were closed and she looked peaceful again. Her face looked almost flush and her scar was a little more even with her skin tone. Katrina turned to leave just as Emily turned her head towards Katrina one more time and lightly smiled with her lips pressed together.

Going to Clint's

Outside of the police station, Chris and Katrina took a left turn and headed towards the church. Instead of stopping, Katrina announced that they were going over to Clint’s. Chris was excited, he desperately wanted to hear Clint's story about Emily. Once They walked through the headstones, past the bell tower and through the other-side of the church, they were in the residential area. Another few minutes of weaving through streets and ducking under over grown trees, they arrived at a smaller, one-storey brick house. Chris noticed the brush was grown out and the grass hadn’t been mowed in about a month. There were trees in the front of the house that were so big and full, they looked like ancient guards hovering over the front yard; scaring away any unwanted intruders.

Katrina walked up to the door and pushed it open with no hesitations. Chris tentatively followed, examining the interior walkway decorated with family pictures. Clint obviously hadn’t had the heart to take them down since his wife’s passing. Everything was neat and tidy, but Chris assumed Mama had a hand in that.

Katrina was sad at the appearance of Clint’s house; she could remember playing in the front yard with Emily. Now the front yard resembled a house that neighborhood kids all over would be afraid to come to on Halloween; afraid they would be gobbled up by little old witch.

She pushed through her feelings like a velvet curtain, walked up to the door and opened it like she was to be expected. She had already been inside since she’s been back, but it still surprised her how unchanged the house was. She would have thought Clint would have tried to re-decorate, renovate or even move out of the house when the chaos started to subside.

She walked through into the living room where Clint was sitting with Mama on the long, brown, faux-velvet couch. They were already looking up to see who had walked through the door uninvited. Both smiled at the sight of Katrina, but Katrina noticed the smile melt off Clint’s face when Chris came out of the hallway.

“Who’s this?” Clint demanded.

“This is Katrina’s friend Clint, all the way from New York.” Mama offered.

“I met him on the plane out here.” Katrina said. “We told you about him.” Katrina said excitedly, trying hard to diffuse the bomb that was about to explode.

“The one reporting on the infection?”

“Yes, that’s me.” Chris smiled the biggest smile he could muster and walked up to Clint to shake his hand— despite the fact Clint was still sat comfortably on the couch. Looking through Clint’s eyes into his angry and destroyed spirit made Chris feel sympathetic and intimidated all at the same time.

Clint didn’t shake Chris’ hand, instead he got up, excused himself and walked down another hall into what Chris assumed was a bathroom.

“Sorry,” Mama and Katrina blurted.

“It’s OK.” I’m an unwanted guest, trying to pry into his life again.

“Maybe just don’t ask any questions until he gets to know you a bit more around here chicken.” Mama warned.

“No problem.”

Clint came out of the bathroom and stopped in the entrance to the living room. “Look, I’m kinda tired. It’s almost two O’clock. I think I’m gonna take a nap. Katrina, if you want, go down to Emily quickly and then I’d appreciate it if y’all would leave.” He turned and walked through the hallway into his bedroom.

Chapter 10; talking to Glen O'Toole at the police department.

...“So, what happened in the forest?”

Chris told her every detail he could remember down to how squished the truck was with all the men. She didn’t seem surprised, but interested. The only question she asked at the end was if he had fun.

“Yes. I think I did. It was exhilarating I suppose. Gets your adrenaline going, you know?”

Katrina’s smile dropped of her face and she nodded towards the door; “Incoming.”

Chris looked in that direction and saw Mary-Jo in a sleeveless, yellow, flower-print dressing weaving through tables to get to them.

“Good. I caught you. I heard you were here.”

“Ho—“

“Can you come over tonight for dinner, something came up and the dinner has been bumped to tonight,” She paused for a moment, looking between Chris as Katrina. “Oh, please tell me you’ll come.” She leaned on the table, pushing her chest forward as if to use her overly large breasts as a bargaining chip. The look on her face was sincerely concerned.

“Um, yeah, sure.”

“Oh goody.” She bounced and clapped her hands. For a moment, Chris thought he felt the café shake. “Shall we say between five and six?”

“That sounds…good.”

“Great. Don’t forget your note-pad.”

“Oh, I won’t.” Chris said condescendingly.

Mary-Jo gave a wave and made her way out. Everyone in the Café was looking in their direction; intrigued at what just took place.

“What was that about?”

“I don’t know. But should we get out of here?”

“Yes, I suppose.” They got up and moved through the tables of gawking people.

Chris lead the way out of the café, eyes following them like a Victorian portrait. He was feeling much more calm now, Katrina seemed to have brought him down to her level.

“Let’s go to the church’s park and talk; we won’t be disturbed there.”

“I would love to but I have to meet Glen. Can we meet in an hour?”

“Can I come?”

Chris smiled, “Even better.”

They walked around the block--the long way to the police station.

When they got inside it smelled of stale coffee and peppermint gum.

Glen was the only person to be seen; sitting behind a generic desk with a mound of neglected papers and a small bushel of mail in the corner. When he saw them, he looked as if he had just won the Publisher’s Clearing House grand prize.

“Hey guys, I was hoping you’d come in soon. There’s not much going on in the town right now.” He patted the stack of papers.

“So now would be a good time to talk to you?” Chris asked.

“Better than any.” He pointed towards the empty seats across the desk.

Katrina sat next to the wall and Chris next to her. “Great. Do you mind if I borrow a piece of paper and a pen?”

Glen looked at him with a furrowed brow.

“I kinda forgot my notepad. I’m new at this whole journalism thing.”

“No problem,” Glen dug around in his desk while Chris and Katrina stole a glance from each other.

Glen pushed a pad of paper and a pen towards him. “You can keep the pen.” He winked at Chris.

Chris twisted the pen between his fingers. Forest Hills Police Dept. “Couldn’t afford the whole word ‘Department’?” Chris asked.

“No, it just didn’t fit.”

“I was just kidding. Nevermind.” Chris swallowed uncomfortably and marked Glen O’Toole interview at the top of the page. “How long have you lived in Forest hills?”

“Born and raised.”

“And, how old are you?”

“Twenty four.”

“How long have you worked for the police department?”

“I started training about three and half to four years ago.”

“So you were an officer when the infection started to spread? Tell me about that.”

“I came after they banned the department from fighting.”

“What do you mean?”

“Too many officers died or something, so it was left up to those two bearded cavemen.”

“Glen,” Katrina shook her head.

“Sorry,” Glen glared at Katrina. “Forgot they were your best friends.” He searched the roof for something to look at.

“Jerrid and Gregory you mean?” Chris asked.

“Yeah.”

“What do you have against them?”

“I just don’t see why they should be allowed to continue to fight and guard the town while the police department are taking care of old Mrs. Mortgensen’s cat. I’d prefer the tree top too, if I was the cat.” Glen rolled his eyes.

“Okay, So, tell me about the first encounter you had.”

“Most of it was when I was a rookie; before they force was restricted to town duty. We were called to a spot over in the neighborhood—by Katrina’s house—where a group of dogs and cats were taunting an old shiatsu. By the time we got there, both of its ears were missing, bits of flesh were either hanging off or gone and the animals continued attacking.”

“Why do you think it was the only one being attacked?”

“Because it was the oldest, of course. It was most vulnerable.”

“Of course,” Chris said under his breath. “Has any of your family been affected by this?”

“Not my direct family, but when Katrina’s parents were…you know. They were like my family too.” Glen looked at Katrina like a puppy needing a home. She rolled her eyes. He turned his gaze back towards Chris, with quick flickers towards the door. “You do know what happened, don’t you?”

Katrina was appalled that he would use her dead family to try and one-up Chris.

“Yes, I do.” Chris gave him a warning glance; telling him not to continue on that subject.”

“So, what have you had to deal with in ways of human victims of the infection?”

“None really. I’ve been lucky that way.”

“You’ve never seen a human infected?” Chris had the feeling that this was a wasteful interview.

“I had to kill an infected baby once.”

Chris regretfully perked up in his seat.

“Just ‘bout bit the mother’s nipple right off.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Serious as a heart attack. I thought it was weird that a baby that was that old was still breast-feeding too. The only reason we knew the baby had the infection. The mother tried to cover it up, but Doctor Stevensen made us privy to that info when she came in claiming to have a serious infection. By the time we got to her, the baby was irate and his veins looked purple. When we tried to hold him. He would try and scratch and bite. We had to put him down.”

Going into Chapter 10; Cafe after the forest

“Come on kid, start searching.”

Chris jumped in to action at the thought of helping, kicking the brush with his feet looking for anything that might be dry. The matted leaves seemed to only be more damp underneath.

Covering the body with dried up grass wasn’t as lengthy of a process as Chris had thought. Jerrid took a lighter out of his pocket and set the pile on fire in six different places. They watched the flames flicker and spread leaf to leaf until they engulfed the entire body. Jerrid announced their departure: “We better get going before it starts to smell.”

“What about that wolf that you saw?” Chris asked Gregory.

“Well, I can only imagine it’s been eaten since it used to be right over there,” Gregory pointed to a spot to the right of where they were standing. “And it doesn’t seem to be there anymore.”

Jerrid and Gregory turned to walk back towards the truck and Chris followed. He was thinking of the events of the morning and it was only— Eleven O’clock? Shit, Katrina. He started to pick up speed, taking the lead of the group.

“Why in such a hurry kid?”

“You scared?” Jerrid and Gregory chuckled at each other.

“Not that this encounter wasn’t an event in my life that I’ll forget, but I was supposed to meet Katrina about an hour ago.

“You mean, you just saw the evidence of a bear that had been devoured by a zombie, and you’re worried about a coffee date?” Gregory opened his door and jumped in.

“Well, I just like to be punctual, that’s all. Beside, movies prepared us for things like this.” He said, making excuses for himself.

“Sure.” Jerrid laughed.

10.

Gregory drove Chris to the Café’s door. Jerrid jumped out, letting Chris through.

“Thanks for the ride-along. What are you guys going to do now?”

“Probably grab a burger.”

Chris nodded, and Jerrid hopped back into the truck.

The café door swept open and two children ran out in front of their mother, she gave Chris a sincere look of apology for her misbehavior. Chris smiled at her to show he felt impartial.

Katrina was sat in the same corner they sat on the first day. She was looking out the window towards the church at nothing in particular. Mary-Jo and Gerry weren’t anywhere to be seen; in the case of them being in the back kitchen, Chris hurried over to the table. The bell on the door would have already annoyingly given away his presence like a cough in the best hiding spot.

Chris pulled out the chair to sit, which gave Katrina a fright. She clutched at her heart for a moment and closed her eyes. “You scared me.” She let out a long breath through her nose.

“Sorry. Sorry I took so long. You wont believe what happened.”

“I figured something interesting must’ve gone on. Tell me.”

“First you tell me what happened at Clints.” Chris was tapping his fingers on the table and bouncing his knee as if playing with an invisible baby.

Katrina started but was interrupted by a young girl asking if they wanted anything.

“Do you have anything with the opposite effect of Caffeine; like a vicoden?”

“Excuse me?” panic and confusion washed over her face.

“Um, warm milk; that’s suppose to make you sleepy or something, right?” Chris looked at Katrina for confirmation. The girl opened her mouth to reply but Chris interrupted “Yeah, I’ll just have some warm milk.” The stunned girl nodded and started to walk away, “No,” Chris yelled; making heads turn in his direction. “Never mind, I won’t have anything.” He watched her turn again and disappear behind the counter. Katrina put her hand over his vibrating knuckles.

“Are you Okay?” Katrina knew that something had gone down in the woods. Whether it was between the boys or non-humans, she didn’t know.

Chris stared into her eyes, “Yes, I’m just a little amped up from the forest. It just hit me know.”

“I can see that.”

“Okay, tell me what happened.”

“Well, I went over there and Mama was arriving at the same time with Doctor Stevensen. We all went in and Clint was kind of surprised; he didn’t like having all these people in his house making a spectacle of his daughter.”

“But you’re family— except for the Doctor.”

“Yeah, I know.” She paused to take a sip of her cold coffee. “Emily was in the basement. Clint didn’t sleep all night-- aside from little naps against the basement door. We knew that in order to give her another shot, we would have to get her secured. Clint and Doctor Stevensen came up with a plan: something like using the Doctor as bait and then Clint jumped out and used his blanket-wrapping technique again. Then they both got hold of her and tied her to the bed.”

“How did she like that?”

“She didn’t. I came down while they were tying her feet, I think part of her recognized me because she softened her features and stopped fighting.”

“How did that make you feel?” Chris’ knee was slowing down to a reasonable rate.

“I don’t know. If she recognizes me, it means that the infection hasn’t completely taken over and started eating away her brain. Anyways, I gave her the second shot. She just laid there, staring at the ceiling. It was sad. But she passed out—or fell asleep--shortly after. Clint asked us to leave for a little while. I think he wanted a private moment with her; she’s as close to normal when she sleeps now. You know what the weird thing was?”

“What?”

“She still looked like she did three years ago, I don’t know if it’s just the infection or the lack of needing to grow. The Doctor is very impressed with her progress after just the one shot. He thinks that she should definitely make a full recovery.” Katrina smiled into her cup.

“That’s fantastic.” Chris looked at her longingly; he wanted her to look at him; he wanted to feel like they were sharing the moment.

“Yeah, it really is.” She smiled at him for a split second before turning towards the window; sharing her happiness with the open world.

“What else did the Doctor say?”

“Nothing really, he’s just amazed at the healing properties of the medication. He wants me to bring some to him so he can maybe find out what’s in it, or how it’s working.”

“Well, that’s very exciting. I’m happy for you. I hope that I will be able to meet Emily.”

Katrina looked at him, Chris could see she was looking at each of his eyes and he let her look until she looked away again. “So, what happened in the forest?”

Chapter 9 Cont. Found Something!!

Greg’s going to pick us up at the edge of the forest.”

They crossed the street and snuck between two buildings, ending up on Roseberry Street. As they crossed Roseberry, Chris heard his name called. He turned around to see Glen running towards him. He didn’t realize they had come out beside the police station. Jerrid didn’t stop walking so neither did Chris; he yelled back towards Glen: “I’m in a bit of a hurry, I’ll come see you in a couple hours.” Glen stopped and watched them disappear through a door beside the hardware store.

Jerrid’s apartment was small and empty. There was stained-wood wainscoting along the bottom of walls and the windows were framed in the same light brown color. Across from the door was one ratty brown sofa pushed up against the window. To the right, next to the bedroom was a shelf half occupied with a few books above a fireplace and the kitchen to the left was empty except for a garbage can overflowing with pizza boxes and restaurant take-out bags which--judging by the smell—had been there awhile.
Jerrid came out of the bedroom with his rifle. “Okay, lets go.” They were out of the apartment and down the stairs in a flash. They took a left on Roseberry Street towards the forest. A few ladies were sitting on their chairs outside their stores and only a handful of people walking up and down the street. None of them seemed to notice Jerrid or Chris. Jerrid took out his phone and made a call that only required him to listen and reply “Okay.”

“Greg’s at the edge of the forest with the truck now. We have to hurry.”

“Why are we in such a rush if the thing’s already dead?”

“Because, Greg just found a mutilated bear—with it’s eyes missing and it’s fresh. There’s something out there.”

Chris’ adrenaline was starting to go into overdrive. He could feel his heart pick up speed the closer they got to the forest’s edge. “Should I have a gun or something?”
“Do you know how to use a gun?”

“No.”

“Then, no, you shouldn’t have a gun.”

Chris took a couple of quick steps to get closer to Jerrid. “Are you going to protect me then?”

“I’ll do my best. But I’ll always protect myself first.”

“That’s comforting.”

“That’s the facts kid. There’s Greg.”

Chris could barely make out an army green truck idling in the trees. They started jogging towards the truck. Jerrid opened the door and motioned for Chris to get in first and slide in to the middle. It was a tight squeeze for three men over six feet tall. Gregory started to drive before Jerrid had the door closed.

“What’d you bring him for?” Gregory asked.

Jerrid didn’t answer. “Where did you find the animals?”

“By the old farm.”

“Again? What’s going on over there? That’s five in six weeks and three in two days.”

“Three in two days? When was the first?” Chris asked.

“Thursday evening,” Gregory answered.

They continued driving through the forest on an unmarked trail, dodging trees in the nick of time and bouncing over buried tree trunk and roots. Branches were whacking the sides of the truck with no remorse and all Chris could think about was the damage they were doing to the paint.

“How do you know where you’re going?” Chris asked.

“I just know.”

“Have you marked the trees or something?”

“We just know, kid,” Jerrid answered. “We’ve been in these trees in the darkest of nights, day after day. We could name each tree and find it on a whim if we wanted to—kinda like parents with identical twins.

“We’ve done it before,” Gregory added, “When we need to remember the location of something, we name the tree and that way we know where to come back.”

“But there’s just so many, how is it possible?”

“We know how to track, kid. We see crushed leaves and broken branches and we could tell you what did it and how long ago.

“Plus, we only have a certain amount of land that we cover, that way it’s limited.”

Chris nodded. Not long after they were driving along a clear path. Chris assumed it was the one he drove down when he found the farm. Gregory leaned over the steering wheel to get a closer look through the trees. Chris could feel Jerrid stiffen.

At a moments notice Gregory veered to the left through a small opening in the trees. He slowed down when they got to a point where the trees were too close together to pass.

“The Bear is there, just under that broken tree.” Gregory pointed to a tree fifteen feet away that had been snapped in half a long time ago. Chris could tell by the moss and vegetation that had already made a home in the jagged edges of the snapped parts of the tree.

“Okay kid, time to get out.” Jerrid opened his door and they all exited the vehicle. “We have to walk from here.”

They all started walking through the trees, snapping twigs and crunching leaves under their feet. As they got closer Chris could see a mound of black fur. It was all wet and matted down in some areas. When they started to approach the bear, Chris noticed its position was odd; it was wedged underneath the tree as if it was the tree that killed it. It was lying on its stomach with its head turned away from them. The arms and legs—-what was left of them—-were spread-eagle.

The men circled around the broken tree and stood at the head of the bear. A few flies circled around the empty eye sockets waiting to get in as others flew out.

Chris covered his mouth with his hand because that’s what he figured people do when they see something disgusting. Jerrid and Gregory were unfazed, like they were looking at little dog taking a nap. “Don’t throw up kid.” Jerrid warned.

“I won’t,” Chris removed his hand. He was lucky it didn’t smell much. “Can I take pictures?” He reached for the camera in his pocket while Gregory and Jerrid exchanged looks. They shrugged and Jerrid replied, “Okay.”

Jerrid lifted the bear’s head as if to pose him for the camera and Chris moved to take a step closer, but caught his foot on some matted down leaves. Just as he was about to go down, Gregory grabbed the back of his shirt to stop him from moving at all. “Careful.” Chris composed himself and snapped a picture.

“Wait,” Gregory knelt down “Look at his neck. Flip him over.”

Gregory and Jerrid rolled the bear towards them, out from the tree.

“Ugh,” Chris choked accidentally.

The bear’s throat was missing and its chest was literally ripped open from the front. All the internal organs were missing and any meat on the ribs and pelvic bones was gone; “sucked clean” Gregory noted.

“How can you tell?” Chris asked, positioning his camera.

“From these tendons and flesh left over,” Gregory pointed, “They look stringy, like the inside of a pumpkin. Something was trying to get as much meat off this thing as they could.”

“I thought they usually ate the whole thing; skin and all.”

Neither Gregory nor Jerrid said anything for a moment. “Yeah, they do.” Jerrid lit a cigarette. “I would say the feeding was interrupted, but—“

“He wouldn’t have covered it up by rolling the bear under the tree.” Gregory finished. “And usually they don’t stop eating until there’s nothing left.” Gregory and Jerrid got up and looked around. “There’s no blood or vomit spewed around here. It only ate until it was full.”

“What does that mean?” Chris asked.

“That they’re changing kid. They’re evolving to something smarter. It stopped when it was full.” Jerrid repeated.

Chapter 9 Cont. an unexpected discovery

.......They both dropped the subject and Mama came to sit with them.

Katrina came out of the bathroom showered, in her clothes from the night before. Once in her bedroom, she reached for the sticker-covered medical bag she kept in her dresser. She ran her finger over the stickers before she pulled a sterilized syringe and needle out. She carefully filled the syringe, tapped the bubbles to the top before squirting them out and plunged the needle into her lower back, just above her underwear. The Doctor told her she didn’t have to administer the shot there, but her shoulder was always sore for the rest of the day when she put it in her arm.

She changed into a turquoise tank top and a clean pair of worn jeans. She stood in front of the mirror tussling her hair with her fingers. She would let it air-dry; it became naturally wavy that way. She took a step closer to the mirror and stared into her eyes. Today they were light blue with speckles matching the color of her shirt. They were telling her she was happy; when they're dark blue--almost gray--she's having a bad day. She assessed her mood to compare and decided her eyes never lie. Her lips widened into a big smile and she went out into the kitchen. She was feeling better already, not only from the meds, but from being surrounded by good company.

Mama had a cup of coffee and a slice of quiche for her at the table. She said good morning to everyone and found it odd Jerrid was acting funny: looking between her and Chris suspiciously. She brushed it off and asked Mama if she had already taken her bread to the Cafe.

Mama nodded, “I was going to go over to Clint’s but I knew I would be better received back here with breakfast made for you drunks.” She smiled and giggled to herself.

They all looked between each other. The one day Mama doesn’t go over to Clint’s is the day he probably needs her the most.

Mama stopped smiling, “What? What’s wrong?”
Everyone waited for someone else to answer, finally Jerrid spoke: “Emily escaped last night.”

“Escaped?” Mama stood up and moved away from the table, scrimmaging around the apartment for her purse.

“Well, no, not escaped,” Jerrid continued “She got out of her restraints and walked up, out of the basement and into the living-room where Clint was watching TV.”

“Oh my, Oh my,” Mama continued searching for her handbag, even though it was in the same spot she always puts it: on the desk by the front door.

“Mama,“ Jerrid shouted. She spun around and stopped still. Chris and Katrina were watching Jerrid intensly, waiting for him to deliver the whole story. “Listen, she was hungry and was acting a little like an infected; She didn’t say anything other than growls and she was panting heavily. Clint trapped her in a blanket so she couldn’t scratch or bite him and got her back into the basement. She was acting wildly so she didn’t get her restrained again, but she’s locked in the basement. Doctor Stevensen was called but he didn’t answer.”

“I’ll stop by his office right now. Poor thing; Clint probably hasn’t gotten any sleep.” She found her purse and opened the door.

“Mama, wait, I should come with you. I can give her another dose,” Katrina started to get up from her chair but Mama stopped her,

“Don’t worry about it Trinket, stay and eat. You can come by later, once we can maybe get her restrained.” Mama closed the door behind her.

Jerrid’s phone rang on the coffee table, he walked over to grab it. Chris glanced at Katrina who was too busy eating her quiche and bacon to notice. They ate in silence until Jerrid walked back over. “I have to go,” Jerrid grabbed his coat off the chair. Katrina looked at him quizzically. “Greg found an animal—a deer or something-- in the woods. He can’t tell if it’s just another animal attack or, you know what.I have to go check.”

“Were the eyes missing?” Katrina asked.

“Only one, and it was found a few feet away with only a puncture in it.”

“Well then it can’t be an attack; they wouldn’t leave the eyes like that.”

“The one we found the other week had his eyes still in. I don’t know what’s going on. It’s like they’re changing.” Jerrid looked at Chris, “You wanna come kid?”

Chris was torn; he could go with Katrina to Clint’s, or to see the end product of a feeding frenzy. He couldn’t forget about Glen either.

“When are you going to Clint’s?” He asked Katrina.

“Right away.”

“Can I meet you in about an hour?”

“Yeah, I’ll meet you at the café.”

Jerrid yelled from the door: “Kid, come on, I gotta go. I have to stop by my house first.”

“Okay, coming. Just let me grab something.” Chris ran back into the bedroom to get his wallet and keys. He saw his camera and hesitated before snatching it off the desk. When he came back out, Katrina was putting their dishes in the kitchen sink.

“Thanks. I’ll see you in an hour or so.”

Katrina nodded “I’ll wait incase you’re longer.”

“Okay, thanks.”

When Chris met Jerrid, he was waiting in the hall, staring at his former apartment’s door. As soon as Jerrid saw Chris, he quickly turned to leave the apartment building.

“Do you want me to drive to your place?” Chris asked.

“No, I just live by stumps, above the hardware store. It will take us two minutes to walk there and Greg’s going to pick us up at the edge of the forest.”

End of Chapter 8: Up on the roof

.......“And you give me shit about not wanting to come back here.” Jerrid yelled from his horizontal position a few feet away.

“We have to go there.” Chris encouraged.

“I suppose you’re right.” Katrina felt strong in that moment, knowing Chris would come with her and knew she would finally be able to enter her home again. Mama had offered to come with her before, but there was something about having a frail old later that didn't make her feel quite as secure as having a six-foot-two man with her. She smiled sincerely at Chris and looked over at Jerrid, who was trying to drink his beer while lying on his back.

They walked over and sat next to him. Chris leaned back, propped up on his elbows enjoying the clear view of the stars; they were spectacular dots of light in the dark sky with no city lights or smog to interfere with their brightness; Chris could clearly make out the constellations and even see what he imagined was part of the milky way.

Jerrid’s cell phone rang and he fumbled for it in his pant pocket, knocking over his beer in the process. “Shit. Hello?”

Katrina watched Jerrid intently and Chris watched them both curiously.

“Clint, Hi. Okay so you got her secured in the basement? Is she talking yet?” Jerrid nodded to himself “Okay, just keep her there overnight; we’ll come in the morning." He paused to let out a deep, meaningful exhale. "Well, If you’re not going to tie her up, Make sure she can’t get out.” With no goodbye he hung up the phone.

“Are you guys holding someone hostage or something?” Chris asked, very serious.

“Technically,” Katrina replied. Chris locked his eyes on her. “Well, what did he say?” She asked Jerrid.

“He’s got her back in the basement but he couldn’t ger her restrained; she kept trying to bite him. Apparently she hasn’t said anything yet but she’s… hungry. He said she’s moving normally but not fully there—mentally-- Yet.”

“So it’s working.”

“I guess so. You’ll have to try and give her another dose tomorrow and see if that will bring her back even more.”

Chris slid his bum into the circle more, “Does somebody here want to tell me what the hell is going on? Please.”

Katrina glanced over at him as if she forgot he was there. “It’s Emily.”

“Emily? I thought she wasn’t around anymore.”

“What made you think that?”

“Well you said—“ Chris thought about it, and realized Katrina never did mention her death. “She’s alive and she’s infected still?”

“Yes. I brought back some of the medication they were giving me and testing on others in Colorado. I wanted to see if they would work on her.”

“You mean you stole and smuggled some medication.” Jerrid added.

Katrina didn’t acknowledge the last accusation; “I figured if she stayed alive this long, maybe she can be helped; treated and cured. I didn’t want you to come with me to Clint’s today, because I was giving her the first dose. One or two more and she should be good--from what it sounds like.” Katrina was very happy with the possibility and it showed on her face.

Chris didn’t feel the same way, “Uh, Good?”

“Yeah, she can be like me.”

“Okay, so didn’t you think that this would have been helpful information to me? You have a weapon of possible mass-destruction hidden in your uncle’s basement, which you just happen to be holding captive.” Chris stood up to walk this new information off. “Oh, I wish my head would stop spinning,” He sat back down. “Wait, what happens if she gets out and she’s still hungry?”

Katrina couldn’t think how to answer the question without worrying Chris any further. Jerrid filled in: “Then we could potentially have a problem on our hands.” Chris and Katrina laid down beside Jerrid, looking at the sky and contemplating the possible outcomes if Emily were to escape. Jerrid frowned; “I’m out of beer; it spilled.”

Chapter 8: leaving the bar

.....Katrina said something to Jerrid, which only received a nod in return and they started back towards the table. No one in the bar was bothered by the situation—-they didn’t even notice.

They sat down at the table and before Chris had a chance to ask what happened, Mary-Anne Dawes used the effects of her liquid courage to approach Jerrid one more time. Chris tried to meet Katrina’s eyes to get some kind of answer from them instead. She didn’t look at him, but he could tell she was in a deep thought.

“Honey, you comin’ over to my place tonight?” Mary Anne asked.

“You know better than that.” Jerrid’s liquid courage seemed to taking effect as well: his hand was lightly resting on the crest of Mary-Anne’s butt.

“Right, my parents. So I’ll come back to yours then. Just like old times.”

“No.”

“What do you mean ‘no’?”

“No,” Jerrid dropped his hand as if he just realized where it was, and slid his chair back. “Not like old times; forget old times--in fact-- forget any times.”

Katrina was surprised by that comment; she didn’t think Mary-Anne and Jerrid had any combined past. He always said he thought she was repulsive. Chris was oblivious; it seemed like Jerrid had a past with most of the girls in the bar.

Mary-Anne was stunned. She turned on her four-inch leopard pumps and walked back to the table full of girls. Katrina followed her with her eyes to the table of girls who all looked unhappy. Mary-Anne said something, which raised them all to their feet. They all marched out the door single file.

Before Chris knew it, they had had about ten too many drinks and the bar was closing. Chris and Jerrid protested while Katrina dragged them all outside arm-in-arm. Looks like I won’t have any more trouble trying to make them get along she thought.

Gregory was in watchman mode; scoping out the streets, looking back and forth to make sure the sight was clear. “Okay, well I’m going to go home to my spinning bed. Are y’all going to be all right? Jerrid, do you want me to walk you home?”

“Home? Who’s going home?”

Katrina shook her head, “He can stay at Mama’s, it’s closer.”

“No, I don’t want to go there.” Jerrid protested like a little child; pulling back from Katrina’s grasp.

“Jerrid, give it up, it’s right there. We’ll hang out on the roof for a bit, have a beer and then you can sleep on Mama’s couch.”

Jerrid looked at Gregory with pleading eyes, but Gregory nodded for him to follow them.

“You’re welcome to come too Greg,” Katrina added.

“oh, no thanks Katrina, I’m pretty tired and I’ve got an early watch tomorrow.”

“Okay.”

Chris waved and they said their goodnights.

The three of them walked down Church Street until they got to Mama’s building. Jerrid was clearly distraught being inside the foyer. He fingered the scratch marks and looked around taking in the memories. Chris watched him with sadness.

“I see they still haven’t fixed that light situation,” Jerrid commented.

Katrina was flipping the switch repeatedly, “Nope, probably never will.”

They reached Mama’s floor and Jerrid walked through the door without looking down the corridor to his old apartment. He looked around the familiar room, “nothing’s changed.”

“You know Mama,”

Katrina grabbed a few beers out of the fridge and led them to the closet with the emergency roof escape, holding a finger up to her mouth to keep them quiet when they were beside Mama’s door.

They walked to the side of the building that overlooked the highway they came in on. Past it was trees and land as far as Chris could see. “Wow,” he exclaimed, “it stretches for miles.” He started wandering around the edge of the roof to take in the surrounding views. The side facing the forest showed a thick brush of trees stretching for miles—except for the small empty patch where Chris imagined the old farm might be. The side on Forest Road was a view of the rest of the town and Chris could see that it was not much bigger that he thought; there was one more street on the other side of Stumps, and the rest was forest until the trees stopped; they really were in the middle of nowhere. In the distance he saw a big machinery building and plant.

“Is that where they process the wood?”

Katrina walked over to look. She handed him an open beer. “Yup. Come over here,” She brought him to the last side, which had an amazing view of the church. “You see those houses just past the church.”

“Those mansions you mean? Behind the huge gates?”

“Yeah. Well, the one on the left is mine and the one to the right, kind of behind it is the Dawes,”

“You mean that house is still all yours?”

Katrina nodded, “I’m just to afraid to go back in; too many horrible memories. I haven’t been back and nothing’s been changed inside since my parents turned. At least that’s what Mama said. She’s the only one that’s been inside since.”

“And you give me shit about not wanting to come back here.” Jerrid yelled from his horizontal position a few feet away.

Chapter 8: Lucy again.

.....Jerrid got up to get another round.

Chris looked around the room, taking in everyone in the bar. He was able to recognize some of the people already from the cafe and could tell who the people coming back from Colorado were: They were the ones being passed around and hugged while being examined for the change from three years ago. Chris’ gaze fell on a table filled with four girls, one of them Mary-Anne Dawes and one was Lucy from Doctor Stevensen’s office. She was wearing the same outfit without the sweater covering her shoulders and she had on more make-up, making her look older and sexually enticing. She saw Chris looking at her, she mouthed ‘hi’ and waved. All the girls except Mary-Anne turned to look as Chris waved back.

Katrina watched to see who Chris was waving at. When she saw it was Lucy they exchanged waves, but the other girls rolled their eyes and turned back into their seats. The girl sitting next to Lucy said something that made the rest of the girls laugh. Lucy shrugged. Katrina knew it was something about her but she didn’t care; she wasn’t popular in school and if these girls didn’t like her, then she did want to be their friend anyways.

Gregory and Jerrid were pre-occupied with a couple of women dancing next to the bar, obviously trying to get the attention of the men: rubbing each other’s bodies and pressing their hips into one another rhythmically swaying with the beat of the music.

The haggard waitress plopped her butt down in Jerrid’s lap and asked if they wanted to do any more shots. Jerrid said they did and she stood up as quickly as she had sat down.

Chris glanced over at the girls’ table to see if Mary-Anne was bothered by this interaction. Lucy smiled at him again while Mary-Anne shot daggers at the waitress. Lucy stood up to walk over to Chris’ table, keeping her eyes on him the entire time. Katrina realized her intentions and got up to go to the lady’s room. She felt uncomfortable knowing Lucy was interested in Chris and needed to avoid that interaction.

Jerrid smiled and nodded at her, which she returned with a polite smile and nod.

“Hi Chris. I was hoping you’d come tonight,” She giggled awkwardly. Jerrid and Gregory looked at Chris with wide eyes and gaping mouths.

There’s a lot of hoping to see people tonight Chris thought. “Oh, yeah, well Katrina and I thought it would be a good idea to come and meet some more people-- to interview.”

“Doctor Stevensen thinks that you have very good potential to get the story out.” She twirled a lock of blonde hair around her finger.

“He said that?”

“Uh huh.”

Chris got a little red in the face and looked over at the giggling table of girls from which Lucy just came. He looked back at her and she was caressing her bottom lip with her teeth. “Oh, well that’s nice.” He was cursing his inability to entertain females.

Lucy gave him a confused look and ended the conversation. “Okay, um, well I’m just over there if you want to chat later. It was good seeing you.” She turned to walk away.

“You too.” He dropped his head in shame.

Jerrid and Gregory had turned their back to the conversation in the beginning but had obviously been listening because they both spun around in their chairs, laughing and shaking their heads. Katrina walked up at that moment and asked what happened--even though she already had a pretty good idea from the lack of high fiving.

“Well, your boy Chris here wouldn’t know how to pick up a chick if she were attached to his finger.” Jerrid said

Katrina was relieved nothing romantic was exchanged between the two and she regretted the feeling that came with it; it meant she was starting to have feelings for Chris. She recognized it and pushed it to the back of her mind

Chris didn’t say anything but shook his head. He was confident his face was at least three shades pinker. He couldn’t look over at the table of girls again. But Katrina could and they were all laughing while Lucy sat there with a wondering look on her face. Katrina felt a pang of happiness and contentment.

They spent the majority of their time at the bar drinking and taking more shots. Gregory and Katrina got caught up on the past three years while Jerrid and Chris played more pool. During one of their games, a man, who seemed intoxicated burst through the front door and frantically searched the room with his eyes. Jerrid noticed and recognized the guy. He put his pool cue down, excused himself from the game and calmly sprinted towards him. Chris couldn’t hear the exchange between the two men, but judging by Jerrid’s animated hands, it wasn’t a pleasant situation.

Chris walked up to Katrina and Gregory. “Who’s that guy Jerrid’s talking to?”

They both looked over towards the door. Katrina stood up and rushed over as quickly as Jerrid had.

“That’s Clint—Katrina’s uncle,” Gregory answered. He wasn’t as concerned as the other two, and he didn’t get off his chair.

Chris mentally reprimanded himself for not remembering Clint from the photo albums. His dark hair was just as thick, but streaked with gray; his face was worn like old leather but his strong jaw was still very prominent. He was wearing a jacket thicker than what Chris thought he would need for this weather.

Chris sat down and watched the interaction with Gregory. Katrina was distraught; she pressed the palm of her hand against her forehead. Jerrid threw his hands up in the air again and Katrina was trying to diffuse the situation; pushing her hands towards the floor in a ‘calm down’ motion, followed by touching her hand to Clint’s arm. When she patted him on the shoulder he seemed to calm and nodded in some kind of agreement before he walked out the door.

Katrina said something to Jerrid, which only received a nod in return and they started back towards the table. No one in the bar was bothered by the situation—they didn’t even notice.

Chapter 6 continued... Talking to the DR.

......Katrina and Chris looked at each other with raised eyebrows. They both laughed.

After only a few moments, Lucy guided the other woman waiting through the door and not long after that Doctor Stevensen shuffled her out.

“It was just a migraine Mrs. Langley, you didn’t have a stroke.”

The woman dropped her head and looked at Chris and Katrina through the corner of her eye as she left the office.

Chris looked back at Doctor Stevensen just as Lucy was pointing at Chris with her pencil. The Doctor was just as tall as Chris, if not taller. He had thin dirty blond hair that hadn’t been done in any certain manner but somewhat disheveled. He looked like a Doctor with his grey slacks, white short-sleeved button-up and red skinny tie. He looked over his glasses at Chris and then at Katrina.

“So you brought this young man to me Katrina?”

“Yes sir.” She wasn’t sure if Dr. Stevensen was in a playful mood or serious. It was hard to tell with him.

He smiled and started walking towards them. Chris and Katrina stood up to shake his hand. He gave Katrina an awkward side-hug like you do with someone you barely know, he grabbed Chris’ hand firmly. “So Lucy says that you want to ask some questions about the infection? No one really asks questions about that.”

“So I hear. I’m trying to write a story on it since no one else has.”

“I see. Where are you from son?”

“New York, but originally from Virginia.”

“Ok, well come on back and lets see if I can’t answer any of your questions.”

They followed the Doctor through the secret door. Lucy watched them all the way.

Once behind the door, there was a short hallway with two doors on each side for the patient rooms. Straight ahead, Chris could see sterile white cupboards that held supplies (a door was open showing boxes of gloves and cotton buds). Beside the storage cupboards was a light green door. it was dingy and old and looked like it could be a janitor's closet. They turned into the first door on the left. It was painted white but had a green tinge from the horrible lighting. The only furniture in the room was a cluttered wood desk pushed into the corner and metal filing cabinet beside it.

Dr. Stevensen motioned for them to take a seat in the chairs available.

Katrina felt a little uneasy being back in that room, remembering what she went through with the medications and shots she got on a regular basis-- before being taken to Colorado. She took a seat in the chair, reminding herself that she was here for Chris, this had nothing to do with her-- really.

“Okay Chris, you have my utmost attention.” He demonstrated this by clasping his long fingers together and leaning on the desk to stare intently into Chris’ face.

“Great.” Chris opened his notebook. He was feeling slightly nervous with sweaty palms; this was going to be his first official interview. “I guess my first question is to determine what happens in the body once it’s contracted the full infection?”

“Of course. The infection—if intrusive enough—attaches to the cells in the body, it starts destroying them and begins to affect the nervous system; the body become tolerant to extreme pain and eventually, when the nerves start dying they can’t feel anything at all. Once it spreads even farther—which it will—it can reach the brain in less than an hour-- or sooner. The brain will start to swell and pockets of fluid will form. This slowly creates madness and the inability to function normally. The heart rate will rise, pumping extra adrenaline through the body.

“Once the infection progresses in killing the cells, it will cause discoloration of the skin until it starts to die, then that’s when flaking and peeling begin. It’s kind of like an extreme case of mercury poisoning with extra side-effects.”

Chris quickly jotted points down as fast as he could, along with a note to stop eating sushi and sashimi. He was receiving the information so fast he wasn’t taking in any of the information; it was like reading a book while listening to the conversation beside you. This helped his nerves.

Katrina knew most of this all ready but it was still morbidly fascinating to her.

Chris finished while Dr. Stevensen waited patiently. “What happens after a person is completely infected, or has been for awhile?”

“They lose most of their sight becoming legally and color blind but their smell increases and they develop some kind of mental radar for the difference between humans and their kind. For some reason, their craving for meat—raw in particular and human— increases and their taste is pretty much demolished. I’m not sure why this craving has become part of their new lifestyle. They also don’t have a sensor to tell them when their full, so this along with the normal human sensibility to not eat raw meat or human flesh is overwhelming to their stomachs, which is what causes them to vomit up blood. But that also has to do with their organs falling apart inside them.”

Chris stared at the doctor and then glanced at Katrina until returning his pen to his journal.

“Is this too overwhelming for you Mr...”

“oh, um, Phyles—that’s my last name but call me Chris, and no, this is just fine. My mouth is just a little dry. Is it possible to get a glass of water?”

“Of course.” Doctor Stevensen picked up the telephone and called Lucy at the front desk. Chris and Katrina could hear the phone ringing on the other side of the wall until Lucy picked up. “Lucy, can you get Christopher a glass of water please. Thank you.”

“Thanks. Please continue.”

Katrina was still patiently listening to the Doctor. Like a puzzle in her mind, she was fitting each of the symptoms with the few infected she had seen and even some of the symptoms with herself.

“They don’t normally go after their own kind, even though it has happened, it’s rare. They can tell if they are near one of their own and they are not attracted to them. They also become affected by the sun; Their eyes become ultra sensitive and a tan to them would be like getting a third degree sun burn. They will go out in the sun, but not if they don't have to.”

“How do you think it started?”

Katrina cleared her throat and shifted in her chair to put her sweater over her shoulders.

“I think it started with an animal. Possibly someone was scratched or bitten and then infected others and from there it would have spread.”

“What’s the first case you saw?”

Doctor Stevensen glanced at Katrina and looked back at Chris. “It was a child at my daughter’s school. The Dawes’ youngest girl.”

Chris remembered that The Dawes were the family that now owned the lumber company Katrina’s family built.

Lucy brought in three waters and set them on the desk. Everyone simultaneously thanked her and she left.

“Her parents brought her to me when she had gotten into a fight with her older sister,Mary-Anne. Without thinking like a normal nineteen year old, Mary-Anne bit her very hard and punctured the skin with three of her teeth while bruising with the rest.”

Katrina shook her head in disbelief and Chris raised his eyebrows. “Bit her? Like…” Chris bit his finger to demonstrate that he understood correctly. The Doctor nodded.

Chris looked at Katrina in disbelief at the actions of a nineteen year old. She just shrugged her shoulders and nodded.

“At this time we didn’t know that Mary-Anne was infected—she didn’t even know. “The child was brought in after the bite mark started to fester and swell up until it split open, forcing puss, blood and plasma out of the wound and through the skin around it. I think I…have…a…” The Doctor got up to dig through the filing cabinet to his left. He returned to the desk with a green folder labeled “Dawes, Jennifer-Dawn”. He flipped it open and wet his thumb with his tongue for traction. After finding the page he exclaimed: “Ah, here.” He spun the picture around so it was right side up to Chris.

Chris almost gagged when he took in the details of the picture—he never did have a strong stomach, which he seemed to only remember now. When he brought himself to look at the picture again, he could see the bite mark perfectly on the arm of the girl; there were only three punctures, which were just as wide as they were long due to the swelling splitting of the wound. The entire site of the bite was bruised and the skin around that was red and shiny. There was indeed greenish pus being excreted from the openings and beads of a clear liquid being pushed out of the skin around the wound through the pores.

“The mother tried to do everything she could to help her heal, but when the child’s pain became unbearable she was brought to me.”

“Do you think I can get a copy of this?” Chris didn’t know exactly what he’d do with it; if he’d put it in his article or not, but he wanted it. Bad.

“Sure. I’ll go make one.” Dr. Stevensen got up and left the room with the picture.

Chris looked at Katrina and she was looking back with her head in one hand as if she was bored.

“Are you serious with all this?” He asked

“What do you mean?”

“That was disgusting.”

“That was nothing!”

“Good lord.” Chris looked towards the ceiling as if delivering the message to God.

The Doctor walked back in and set the copy on the desk in front of Chris. It was in color, which Chris didn’t know if he was appreciative about. Dr. Stevensen sat back down at the desk, slipping the picture back into the folder and closing it.

“Where were we? Oh yes, so we tried to treat her with medications for an extreme case of a staph infection, but as it got worse, That’s when I took the picture and I became unsure of what to do. Around the same time more cases started popping up, and the first person in Forest Hills was murdered.”

“When you say first person?“

“I mean first person ever-- to be murdered.”

Chris nodded and wrote that down.

“Then another was murdered and another. When they were brought to the morgue, assumed to be dead, they transformed and escaped. More infected people came to me scared out of their wits and I wanted to help. We put together a special building for the infected and Jennifer-Dawn was the first one to turn within the building, everyone was doomed after she attacked them. Long story short, that’s when we realized it was contagious and the police stopped hunting for the ‘serial killer’.”

“What did you do?”

“We started quarantining each one that came in for treatment. If or when they turned, they were alone and we—as a town—decided that the best way to treat them was not to feed them.

“That’s starvation Doctor.”

“You’re a smart fellow Christopher. However, when given normal foods, they wouldn’t eat it anyways, so they were essentially killing themselves. When we found that there was no cure, that’s when we decided to let them perish.” The look on the Doctor’s face said that he didn’t like the way he explained that, or the reality of it; his brow was furrowed as he examined his clasped hands.

“Right. Katrina did tell me that they could be killed like normal humans; drowned or whatever—not like actual Zombies that just keep coming back from the dead.”

“I don’t really like that term: ‘Zombie’ I see the resemblance, but I like to call it The Ante Mortem infection or disease.”

Chris could tell that the Doctor made that up himself; not because of Katrina rolling her eyes and yawning, but he knew it was something Latin about ‘before death’ and he didn’t think it was clever. He wrote it down anyways.