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.

finishing the interview with Glen

We had to put him down.”

“You what?” Chris was amazed that the description used to terminate a human was as easily exchangeable as that used with a cancer-inflicted dog. He was silently writing down point-form notes.

“We had to take him in the back and shoot it.” Glen said, lowering his voice and talking out the side of his mouth so the walls couldn’t hear.

Chris wanted to leave this interview, but knew he was close to being done. “Is Doctor Stevensen a snitch for you?” He regretted the word as soon as it left his lips. He waited for Glen to retaliate.

“In a sense. He used his own discretion as to who he thought needed to be visited. But like I said, we stopped taking care of that a long time ago.”

“Yes, tell me: why did that leave the jurisdiction of the police department?”

“We had a whole unit dedicated towards the infection-- Voluntary obviously—But, once we went through three groups of twelve men, and Jerrid and Greg said they could handle it with their own volunteers, the sheriff decided that it would be best if the police department stuck to old-fashioned house calls.”

“Who was in the voluntary group that helped Jerrid and Gregory?”

“Mostly people that had lost loved ones, and some of the people that worked in the police department too, but then they were told they would lose their jobs if they continued.”

“Did you know anyone who was in that voluntary group; that was defeated, I mean.” Chris gave Glen a sympathetic look. He thought it might help to fish some more information out of him.

Glen studied Chris’ face before finding the ability to continue in Katrina’s.

“My captain.”

“Tell me.” Chris probed.

“He was in the first group that raided the old hotel on Second street. He survived. The second raid on the hotel was not so lucky.”

“This is the hotel you were going to stay at.” Katrina offered.

Chris looked at her, with nothing to say. A feeling of happiness towards Mama’s hospitality filled him with warmth.

“You were thinking of staying there?” Glen asked.

“Yes,”

“Oh, well I don’t think it’s even open anymore.” Glen stared at the paper he had in front of him briefly. “Where are you staying?” He probed.

“He’s staying with Mama and I.” Katrina said proudly.

“Oh, I see. Well.”

Chris was afraid Glen might have been turned off from the interview now, so he continued to push: “Did he tell you anything about the first raid?”

“Yes,”

“What happened?”

“They found out there were at least two rooms in the hotel that were being used as feeding grounds. People would come into the hotel, but wouldn’t check out—if you know what I mean. Soon the numbers of infected started to grow and the hotel staff started to notice a decline in personal checkouts, and a few of the maids weren’t clocking-out or showing up. That’s when the Hotel management called the police and a raid was set up for the next day. They closed the hotel, which made no difference to the infected, except making them more hungry.”

“What happened when the group went in?”

“They were too concerned about saving civilians.”

“Well that’s important. Isn’t it?”

“Not in a situation like that; no one’s going to survive a room full of the infected anyways. If they don’t become zombie food first, then they’ll be turned.

Chris made a circle with his pen, signaling Glen to continue.

“So, they went into the room, were taking to long to kill the infected. They didn’t know there was whole other room full of them, and they snuck up on the police raid, killing three of the officers and infecting a few more before they were finally terminated.”

“So did your Captain have to kill the infected police officers?”

“I honestly don’t know if they were killed by the infected or by the raid team. Sometimes, when the infected get hungry, they won’t just turn a victim and stop; most of the time they are eaten. Only the people that escape usually make it at all.”

“I thought that the infected didn’t eat each other.”

“If they get ‘em before they’re turned then it’s fine. It’s almost as if eating a steak before the meat goes bad: The cow has been shot, but needs to be diced up before the meat spoils. Kinda like that anyways.

Chris cringed at the visual he got, “What happened on the second raid?”

Katrina stood up and announced she was going outside for a cigarette. She had heard about the raids over and over again. She didn’t need to hear it a thousand and one times.

Both men watched her walk out the open door and go a few steps to the left before lighting up.

“She smokes when she gets stressed,” Glen shook his head. “Poor girl.”

Chris wanted to say that he already knew, and that Katrina wasn’t a ‘poor girl’, or someone that needed to be taken care of at all. He refrained in order to get on with the interview. “You were saying?”

“Right, the second raid. It was a few months after the first; they had already changed out the carpets and re-done the rooms. But this time they had gotten into an old storage room in the basement. No one knew they were there for days, because no one went down there,”

“How did they find out then?”

“Some persistent bitch—‘scuse my language—was adamant that her jacket was down there; one that she left months before-hand. Her and an employee went down to look and he got attacked as soon as he opened the door. She went running back upstairs, without a thought in the world for the employee. She was screaming bloody murder quite literally.

A raid was dispatched later that day.”

“Seems like that raid would have been easier to clear up than the other one. How come everyone died in that one?”

“Because of a hotel maid.” Glen paused dramatically and Chris stared at him, waiting.

“She was still in the building when the raid was going on—even though the hotel was required, and thought to be-- fully evacuated. She was walking around, looking for people. She walked by one of the open doors to the basement and heard a bunch of shots being fired. When she went down the stairs she saw, what she said was the officers being attacked. She claimed to have not seen anyone living, so she locked the door to the basement and came to the police department. That’s when she was informed that every officer down there was still living and was in contact with the department just before the door was locked on them. She was charged with at least four counts of murder.”

“I assume that the door only locked from one side and that’s why the infected didn’t get into the rest of the hotel?”

“Exactly.” Glen smiled at the air and Chris knew that Katrina must be back inside.

“I guess that’s all for now,” Chris said, standing up. “We can continue this another day if we need to.”

“I think I’ve told you pretty much everything that you would want to know.”

“Ok well thank you,” Chris extended his hand to Glen.

Glen gripped it as tightly as he could and shook. “So, when do I get that ice cream?”

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?”

Ending Chapter 9: in the forest Cont...

....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.

Gregory and Jerrid chuckled.

“Well, we can take care of this later, let me take you to the other one. It’s more… normal.” Gregory started towards the car.

Chris quickly leaned in to snap a picture of the empty ribcage as his camera was focusing, that’s when he noticed a spotty, half-circle imprint on the bottom of the ribcage. A human bite mark, he thought. He snapped a picture of that just as Jerrid was calling after him.

When they got back into the cramped quarters of the truck, Chris mentioned the teeth marks and Jerrid explained to him that that’s normal; they’ve seen that a lot when the infected gets carried away while feeding.

They made it back out to the main path that Chris was familiar with and Gregory continued up towards the farm. He took a right through the trees again. Chris assumed they had already passed the farm at this point. Gregory drove the truck as smoothly as he could while dodging trees and bouncing over broken tree-limbs. Chris couldn't help but contemplate how often the truck’s suspension had to be tuned.

“We’re just about there, it’s just over—“

“Stop.” Jerrid yelled.

Gregory hit the brakes and the truck slid through some of the underbrush. Chris was thankful he had his lap belt on.

“What the hell?” Gregory put the truck in park and glared at jerrid.

Jerrid pointed to the trees in the distance. Chris followed his finger but couldn’t see anything. He skimmed the trees with his eyes, looking for another animal corpse. Then he saw it.

About thirty feet away, there was a man in his late twenties. He had long, dark, dirty hair; his jeans were worn out like an old potato sack and his navy t-shirt was barely being held together by the threads. He was standing, but his whole body--including his face were rested against the tree. Chris couldn’t tell if his eyes were closed or just heavy. His tongue was hanging out the side of his face, lapping something off the bark at the pace of a small child eating an ice cream cone. His hand was pressed against the tree at stomach height to keep him steady.

“Well, that’s new.” Jerrid commented.

Gregory grabbed the binoculars hanging from a hook behind him.

Chris knew that in any other city in the US, this would probably be just some kid high on methamphetamines, come to the forest to ‘connect with nature’. Here in Forest Hills, it was the infection coursing through his veins.

“He’s licking blood off the tree,” Gregory concluded. “That’s where the wolf is.

”Was,” Jerrid added.

“What?” Gregory asked

“Well, if this guy is licking the blood off a tree, he’s probably finished off the wolf.”

Chris found his voice: “How did blood get on the tree?”

“Could have been anything. He could have been violent with the animal, which got the blood there, or it could be his own.”

“What do we do?” Chris asked. Surprisingly, he wasn’t as nervous as he thought he would be around an infected. He assumed it was because he was in a truck with two rifles and two large men who knew how to use them.

“Just wait a minute.”

Jerrid slowly pulled his rifle up from between his legs. He had to swing it over Chris’ leg briefly to get it above the dash. Chris flinched a little. He rolled down the window and maneuvered the barrel of the truck and rested it on the side mirror. Just as he was taking aim, the infected jerked his body towards them, sniffing the air. He was alert and aware of their presence.

“Quick,” Gregory shouted from behind the binoculars “He smelled us when you rolled down the window.”

“I got it. I got it.” Jerrid yelled.

The infected started bounding towards them in large lengths and Chris was becoming more nervous with each leap until he was shaken by a thunderous bang and the infected didn’t get back up again.

“See kid, that’s how you do it.” Jerrid said proudly. He brought the gun back inside; Gregory put the truck in drive and continued on through the trees until they got to the newly deceased.

Once again they were out of the truck gaping at something dead on the ground. The infected’s head was mostly missing and only held together by the flesh on his left temple. like a dog, it’s tongue was hanging out of what was left of his face. Chris took out his camera and tried to take picture of anything but its missing face. He took pictures of the fingernails that hand been bent back; partially ripped off, along with shots of the skin that was so deteriorated and diseased; it looked like it was melting off of hiss hands and arms. While Jerrid and Gregory were talking about what to do with the body, Chris took some more pictures of the infected’s bare feet. They were cut up from running around in the forest. He remembered Katrina saying something about their amazing tolerance for pain.

“What do you normally do with the bodies?” Chris asked.

“Burn them, but that was when we had more than two per week.” Gregory leaned down by the dead man. “Look at this: his wallet.” He reached in his front pocket to pull it out and opened it up revealing a Kentucky driver’s license. “He’s from Winchester.”

“Where’s that?” Chris asked.

“Up by Lexington.”

“What’s he doing all the way over here?” Jerrid leaned down to join Gregory. Chris snapped pictures of Gregory holding the open wallet, with the ID showing through a plastic screen.

“That’s a good question, my friend. And how did he get down here?”

“Well, keep the wallet, but we gotta start looking for some dry brush to cover him with,” Jerrid got up and started looking around. “Is there any bus tickets or anything in it?”

“No, just forty bucks.” Gregory got to his feet and tucked the money into his front pocket. “Come on kid, start searching.”

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.