town rumor

“I, I, I,” stammered Mary-Anne. She looked like a proverbial deer in the headlights.

Katrina’s fear morphed into rage. “I asked you, what the HELL are you doing?” Chris remained halfway up the stairs. Katrina’s anger was so unstable, he didn’t want to get in the way.

Mary-anne straightened and brushed her jeans off. “Well, I saw someone sneaking in the gate and well, I’m just glad it’s you and not some burglar.”

Katrina straightened her hunched back and uncurled her fists enough to seem about as less hostile as a dog ready to playfully beat a rabbit to death. “Why didn’t you try the front door?”

“well, I did. It’s locked.”

Chris started down the stairs, “uh, sorry, that was my fault. Habit I suppose.”

Katrina looked at him, processing some information. She turned back to Mary-anne, “Why did you have to break the window?”

“Sorry, I’ll replace it. I just, “ she looked at Chris and back to Katrina. “I have something that I guess you should know. In private.”

“Well, if it has anything to do with the infection, Chris can know too. He is writing that article after all.”

“Right.” She walked towards the sofa behind chairs and sat, curled into the corner as if that was her normal spot. Katrina followed her and sat in her mother’s chair leaning over the arm to the sofa. Chris stood guard behind the couch. “well, ever since we got back there’s been things going on.”

“What kind of things?” Chris heard himself ask.

Mary-anne glanced at him and continued talking to Katrina. “People are going missing. And not being found.”

“Who?” Katrina asked.

“Well, the butcher’s son. He goes hunting in the woods. He went hunting a couple days ago. Well, you can’t really call it hunting. He goes shooting.” Mary-anne chuckled at herself. “They searched for him, but found nothing.”

“What’s his name?” Chris asked, remembering the young man he saw in the woods, licking the tree.”

“Foster Briant.” Katrina answered. Chris was relieved: Not the same guy.

“So, anyways, they’re still looking for him. But another person has gone missing. I don’t know their name, but it’s some guy who was last seen last night at the bar.” Katrina and Chris cringed at the thought. “There’s more people missing, but no one will give details. The rumor going around is that the infection is getting stronger now that we’re back.”

“That’s absurd, “ Katrina scoffed. “We’ve been treated. We still treat ourselves everyday.”

Mary-anne rolled her eyes, “yeah. I know.”

“So what does this have to do with you breaking and entering into my house?”

“Well, I afraid that one of the two of you was going to murder the other.”

“And you were going to what, apprehend them by yourself?” Chris asked.

“mary-anne glared at him. “No, that’s what the brick was for. Dual purpose.”

Katrina stood up and walked through a door. A couple seconds later she came back with a broom and dust pan. “well, there’s nothing we can do but clean up and get this window covered with plastic until I can get it fixed.”

Mary-anne jumped up and headed towards the door, “well, I’m glad that it’s just you guys and I didn’t have to kick any asses today. I’ll see you later, gotta meet Mary-jo.”

Katrina rolled her eyes and started brushing up the glass. Chris walked over to help. “Where can I find a tarp or plastic bag or something?”

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.

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.”

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.

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 8: Jerrid's story

...Jerrid thrust a shot in front of each of them. “Drink.”

“Oh, Jerrid. I really don’t want—“

Jerrid downed his shot in one gulp, “You heard me.”

The rest of them took their shots and left the glasses on the table. Chris could feel his stomach bile and Whiskey re-creating the civil war in his belly.

“So,” said Jerrid looking over at the pool table. “I guess you won. Too bad I didn’t see it, so it doesn’t count.”

Chris felt annoyed. “You were too busy crying like a baby behind Katrina. But I’ll happily kick your ass again if you want.” Chris was smiling until Jerrid stepped up to him, their chests almost touching. “--At pool I meant.”

“I thought so.” Jerrid smiled and backed down. “No, it’s not worth my time.”

“So we have a deal then?”

“We’ll see.” Jerrid walked over to grab his drink from beside Gregory.

The haggard waitress that Jerrid called ‘Darlin’’ came over and grabbed her empty drink tray, giving Jerrid a dirty look. “You said you’d bring this right back.”

“Sorry, guess I lied. I wanted to make you come get it.” He winked at her and she smiled back at him and walked away. They all moved to a table in the middle of the room.

“So kid,” Gregory turned to Chris. The bar was almost full now and the music was a lot louder. “Why you writin’ an article about the infection? What kinda things you wanna know?”

“Everything: how it started and what it was like; how people dealt with it; what the town was like living in while it was happening. Just everything.”

“Well, let me tell you: nothing you write will portray what it was like living during that time. It was like living in Hell. Family members were killed, or transformed. You don’t know what it’s like to see a family member chase after you wanting to eat you, or seeing babies and toddlers with blood dripping from their lips after they’ve just fed on their household pet. Could you imagine having to kill your own child, or someone else’s?”

“No, I couldn’t. But neither can the rest of America, and they don’t even know it can happen. That’s why I want to write this article.”

“And how do you think that you can get this article out when the rest of the people that have tried couldn’t?”

“I don’t know that it won’t get killed like the rest, but once I tell my boss about this, he has to publish it. He just has to,” Chris said reassuring himself more than Gregory.

Jerrid turned his chair towards the bar and rested his ankle on his knee while he lit a cigarette. “I don’t think you know what you’ve gotten yourself into kid.”

“You make it sound like there’s still infected people running around out there.”

“There is,” Gregory said.

“What?”

Gregory shook his head as if to erase what he just said, “I mean they’re not all gone yet. Every once and awhile we’ll come across a decomposing body with the eyes sucked out, or a limb that’s been torn off and the flesh chewed all around it. That means there’s still some out there.“

“We got a live one the other week; not from around here—-as far as I could tell--and we thought that he was our last problem. But another body turned up after him. Look, don’t tell anyone. We have it under control and we’re pretty sure there’s only one running around. We’ll get him.” Jerrid inhaled and winked at a different waitress.

Chris’ heart rate rose and Gregory could see it on his face. “Don’t worry kid. No one’s going to get you.”

Katrina leaned over the table, “So, the blood on your shirt today Jerrid, that was—“

“A bird. I told you that.”

“Just checking.” Katrina lit her cigarette.

“So Gregory, how do you guys work your watches? Or how did you? You couldn’t both have stayed up all night and all day.”

“No, we had a lot more watchmen during the peak of the infection; we had recruiting sessions like an army and even practice during the day. But, too many of the watchmen were being killed or getting infected, so we decided that we would take care of the whole thing alone, that way we wouldn’t have any more unnecessary blood on our hands. I would do nights and Jerrid would do days and we’d trade sometimes. Whenever we needed a break, Clint-- Katrina’s uncle—would come help sometimes too.”

“So what made you guys so immortal?”

“Nothing, we’re just that good.” Jerrid said. Everyone laughed.

“Jerrid, can I ask what happened to your neck? Where you got that scar?”

Jerrid tamped out his cigarette and took a long sip of his drink. He didn’t acknowledge the question and Chris didn’t want to ask again. He looked at Katrina for an answer. “He doesn’t tell everyone that story.” Katrina comforted him.

“It’s Okay kid,” Jerrid started, “I was about fourteen and went camping up in Northwest US with my parents and brother. We had been there about three days and there were bear warnings all over. My family had always been avid campers; we knew what kind of precautions we had to take. Plus, we had been in bear country many times. After the third day, we had all gone to bed, my brother woke-up and had to go to the bathroom. My dad got up to take him. Jeff insisted on going deeper into the woods so my dad couldn’t see him. Seconds later he started screaming. It was a scream I had never heard before—and never want to again.
“My mother and I heard it from the tent. She grabbed the shotgun my dad left and we went running towards them. My dad was running towards us with Jeff in his arms. Jeff’s leg had a massive chunk taken out of his thigh. My mother dropped the gun and ran over to him. She was screaming, ‘what happened? What happened?’ My dad had trouble answering. He would repeat himself, ‘A bear. I think it was a bear.’
“Jeff had passed out by then and they laid him on the ground, trying to figure out what to do. My dad yelled at me to get the car. I ran. The truck was parked out on the main road--over a hundred yards away. My dad always left the keys in the ignition, but since this was a new spot, he hid them under the steering wheel; it took me awhile to find them. I drove as close as I could get and when the lights shone on the campground, I could only see blood and flesh strewn around the place. I couldn’t hear my mom or see my brother. When I looked closer, the flashlight was on the ground pointed at my dad who was lying on his back and had his arm stretched out reaching for the shotgun about four feet away. I wondered why he didn’t get up to grab it, but when I got closer I saw my dad’s right leg had been ripped—or chewed--off above the knee. He was obviously in some kind of shock or something. I grabbed the flashlight and that’s when I saw my mother’s body underneath the bear. She was already dead.” Jerrid stopped a moment and took a mouthful of rum and Coke.

“The weird thing was, the bear’s fur was brown but it was patchy; pieces of it missing and the skin showing through was all infected, like mange on a dog--but worse—not as scabbed, more raw. I ran over to grab the gun, as I got closer to my dad, the bear was distracted by the light from my flashlight. My dad screamed at it to leave me alone, it jumped at me anyways. I got the gun cocked and shot him, but on his way down, one of his nails—which was broken and infected—caught my neck.”

“How did you survive when you were so far out in the woods?” Chris asked.

“I got to the truck where he had a VHF and called for help. My dad died in my arms before help got there. I woke-up in a hospital with news reporters and people trying to put me into foster parent programs. They tested the bear for its infections. All tests came back negative for anything and only my neck had a severe infection. I was in the hospital for over a month."

“Did you go to a foster home?”

“A couple, until I was about eighteen, then I ran away and came back here to work for Katrina’s dad.”

Chris nodded. He didn’t know what else to say. Jerrid didn’t seem to care. He turned around in his seat.

“I lost my brother too,” Chris blurted out. Jerrid looked back at him. “He was young. He got hit by a car.”

“Sorry,” Jerrid replied. He lifted his glass to cheers Chris and the others. “To good friends being the best family one can have.” They all clinked their glasses together and gulped down the last drops. Jerrid got up to get another round.