100-Days-in-Deadland(14)

I quieted, kicking at him as he backed away. No matter what he had planned, I refused to go down without a fight. “Asshole,” I muttered.

Clutch pulled the comforter out from under me. I tried to roll off the bed, but he pulled me back and then, surprisingly, covered me with the blankets. He positioned the pillow under my head.

Frowning I looked up at him. “What are you doing?” My voice cracked.

“I don’t want to wake up to find a zed loose in my house,” he said before walking to the door, where he paused. “If you don’t turn, I won’t have to kill you in the morning.”

Then he turned out the light and left me alone in the dark.





Chapter IV


I bolted awake at the sound of a thunderous gunshot. My wrists and ankles were free, the plastic ties lying in broken pieces beside me. I jumped to my feet, and every muscle in my body protested. With a wince, I made my way to the window. The sun had not yet peeked above the trees bordering the backyard, but in the glimmer of morning light I caught sight of Clutch dragging a body and disappearing around the side of a smaller shed.

A zed? Someone else?

I scanned for more signs but found nothing. The yard stood empty except for a large vegetable garden that had been tilled for spring planting and three, twenty-foot cylinders of propane sitting side-by-side. Beyond the yard stood acres and acres of woodland, making it impossible to see if there were more intruders out there.

The birds had started singing their morning songs again, which meant my hearing hadn’t been permanently damaged by the shotgun blast yesterday. The birds chirped like the world was peaceful, but they lied. The world was deadly and vicious. And, instead of getting ready for work, I was about to head out and fight for my life.

I rubbed the pink scrapes that marred my wrists where I’d wriggled to pull free last night, but the plastic hadn’t stretched. I wanted to crawl back into bed and pretend that it was Wednesday—not Friday—the day before the world I knew ended. But, I needed an early start if I was going to find a safe place before dark. After a quick stop at the bathroom, I headed downstairs to find Clutch sitting in his recliner, decked out in camos, eating eggs, and watching the news.

“Breakfast is in the kitchen,” he said without taking his eyes off the TV.

I wanted to strangle him for what he’d done to me last night. But while I’d lain in bed, working at my restraints, I’d realized he was protecting himself. To be honest, I would have done the same if I’d been in his place had I thought of it. This whole time I’d been thinking of how bad I had it, never once thinking of how bad he had it. Clutch had allowed two strangers—one infected—into his truck and brought one of those strangers into his home. Before I’d fallen asleep, I’d made the vow to myself to let go any remaining anger.

I’d enough to deal with the way it was.

I stepped into the kitchen to find fried eggs, bacon, and toast already on a plate. After having a huge steak dinner, I was surprised that my stomach was already growling. Then again, running for your life burns a lot more calories than punching keys on a computer.

I took my seat on the couch and dug in while watching some national news channel. The reporter looked ragged, like he hadn’t slept or been home since yesterday. A map of the United States was behind him with red Xs over every major city. The map then expanded to the world, showing parts of Europe and much of Asia in red.

“The infected are considered dead by all medical definitions, but yet they continue to move…and feed,” the reporter said. “For lack of a better term, they are undead. Their bodily functions, such as heart rate and blood pressure are nonexistent. Their blood has congealed and they will not bleed out, which the CDC believes accounts for their stiff gaits.

If you must come into contact with the infected, use extreme caution. Destroying the brain stem is the only known method of killing an infected. Due to lack of blood flow, the brain seems to be their only critical organ. A bullet directly through any other normally vital organ, such as the heart, has proven ineffective. However, they can be incapacitated by decapitation or removal of limbs, but they will continue to pose some risk even incapacitated.

The high fever that sets in before the virus takes over seems to destroy most brain activity, which means they can be outsmarted if you do not panic. The infected are violent and hungry and do not seem to require rest. The CDC believes that their insatiable hunger is caused by the superbug altering the hypothalamus in a way to promote transmission of the virus. While a bite is the fastest way to transmit the virus, any direct contact with infected saliva or blood may lead to infection. Even a small open wound, such as a scratch or blister, carries risk of infection. The CDC does not believe the infection can be transmitted by mosquitoes or through contact with animals bitten by the infected, but that doesn’t rule out the possibility of infection through those means.