The door clicked shut behind me, plunging the room into darkness. I whirled with the flashlight, shining the beam into Bens face. He flinched, turning his head, and I quickly dropped the light.
Sorry.
Its all right. He looked up, and I saw that his stoic mask had slipped back into place. I shivered a little. If anyone was suffering from PTSD, it was probably Ben.
I turned from that haunting gaze, shining the light toward the bathroom in the corner. Im...going to see if the water still works.
He didnt say anything to that, and I retreated to the bathroom, leaving him in the dark.
Miraculously, the water still ran, though the temperature barely got above lukewarm. I told Ben I was going to take a bath, then filled the tub halfway, sinking down into it with a sigh in the darkness. The flashlight sat upright on the sink, shining a circle of light at the ceiling, turning the room ghostly and surreal. A tiny bar of complimentary soap sat on the edge of the tub, and I scrubbed myself down furiously, as if I could wash away the horror, grief and fear along with the blood. I heard Ben stumble outside the door and felt guilty for hoarding our only light source, but after a minute or two I heard the door open and close, the lock clicking as it shut behind him.
Uncomfortable that he was going somewhere alone, I counted the seconds, the silence pressing against my eardrums. After a few minutes, though, the door creaked open again. I heard his footsteps shuffle around the room before the bed squeaked as he settled atop it, and finally stopped moving.
I finished my bath, slipped back into my dirty, disgusting clothes, and left the room, keeping the flashlight low in case Ben had gone to sleep.
He hadnt. He was perched on the edge of the mattress with his back to me, head bowed, slumping forward. His tattered shirt lay in a heap at the foot of the bed, and the flashlight beam slid over his broad shoulders and back. As I paused on the other side of the mattress, I saw his shoulders tremble, and heard the quiet, hopeless sound of someone trying to muffle a sob.
Ben.
Anger forgotten, I set the flashlight down and slipped around to his side, touching a bare shoulder as I came up. A nest of bloody gauze sat on an end table, next to a bottle of peroxide. His stitches had torn open, and the claw marks were dark, thin stripes down his back.
Sympathy bloomed through me, dissolving the last of the anger as my logical doctors brain finally caught up with my emotions. Ben was hurting, not from his wounds, but from the guilt that was tearing him apart inside. I wasnt quite ready to forgive what had happened to Maggie, Jenna and my patients, but I knew, really knew, that the horrible night in the clinic was not his fault. And if he hadnt been there, I probably would have died.
Would you...help me? Ben didnt even bother trying to hide the wet tracks down his cheeks, though he didnt glance up. He gestured to the peroxide and an open first aid kit on the nightstand. I found those in the office, but I cant reach it on my own.
Silently, I picked up the first aid kit and scooted behind him on the bed. His skin was cold, but the area around the slashes was puffy and hot, though it didnt look infected. I gently wiped away the dirt and blood, watching the peroxide sizzle into the open wounds, bubbling white. Ben didnt even flinch.
I dont blame you, you know. My voice surprised me, even more that I found it true. Ben didnt answer, and I pressed a gauze pad to the wounds, keeping my voice low and calm. What happened back in the clinic, in the lab with Nathan, that wasnt your fault. I just...I freaked out. I reacted badly and Im sorry for that, Ben.
You have no reason to apologize, Ben murmured. I should have been straight with you from the beginning, but...I didnt know what you would think. How do you explain zombies and vampires to someone without sounding like a raving lunatic? He scrubbed a hand over his face, and now I felt a tiny prick of guilt. If he had told me that in the clinic, I probably would have scoffed at the idea, or assumed he was on drugs. Whose fault was this, really? But I should have told you, Ben went on. Nate...he was the smart one, the one who could explain anything and have it all make sense. In fact, I was hoping he would wake up so he could tell you what was going on. If thats not a selfish reason... A soft, bitter laugh, ending in a muffled sob. It shouldve been me, he said in a near whisper. I shouldve been the one who died.
No. I slid off the bed and walked around to face him. Crouching down, I peered at his face, putting a hand on his knee for balance. Ben, look at me. This isnt your fault, I whispered again, as those tortured eyes met mine. It isnt Nathans fault. Ben, the virus is killing us. The human race is facing extinction, though no one is willing to admit it. Something had to be done.
Something was, he muttered. And now things are even worse. I dont know if we can survive this. And just thinking that I was there when it happened, that maybe if Id done something a little different, I couldve stopped them from getting out
You couldnt have known what would happen. I kept my voice calm, reasonable, my doctors voice. And those scientists, they were only doing what anyone would do to save our race. We had to try something. It isnt our nature to roll over and die without a fight. I smiled faintly. Humans are stubborn like that.
He held my gaze, the light reflected in his eyes. Very slowly, as if afraid it would scare me away, he reached out and took a strand of my hair between his fingers. I held my breath, my heartbeat kicking into high gear, pulsing very loudly in my ears.
I dont know how you can stand to be around me, Ben murmured, staring at his hand, at the pale strings between his fingers. But...dont go. Dont leave. Youre the only thing keeping me sane right now.
Maggie and Jennas faces crowded my mind, angry and accusing. My patients rose up from the darkness to stare at me, their gazes vengeful, but I shoved those thoughts away. They were gone. They were dead, and I couldnt honor their memory with anger and blame and hate. The world was screwed, monsters roamed the streets and I had to cling to my lifelines where I could. I was sure everything would hit me, hard, when I had the chance to breathe. But right now, I had to make sure Iwekept breathing.
Gently, I placed a palm on his cheek, feeling rough stubble under my fingers. Well get through this, I promised him, feeling, absurdly, that I was his lifeline right now, and if I left he might take that shotgun and put the muzzle under his chin. Im not going anywhere.
For just a moment, Bens gaze grew smoldering, a dark, molten look that swallowed even the anguish on his face, before he straightened and pulled back, looking embarrassed.
Turning away, he gingerly bent to scoop up his shirt. Ill take the chair, he offered in a husky voice, rising to his feet. I stood as well, frowning.
Ben, you dont have to
Trust me. He slipped into his shirt, grimacing. I think I do.
I didnt think I would sleep, but I did drift off, listening to Bens quiet snores from the chair in the corner. I awoke the next morning to sunlight streaming in through the dingy curtains and Ben emptying a bag of junk food onto the table.
Morning, he greeted, and though his voice was solemn, it lacked the despair of the night before. I thought you might be hungry, so I raided the snack machines by the office. I, uh, hope you dont mind Doritos and Twinkies for breakfast.
Morning, he greeted, and though his voice was solemn, it lacked the despair of the night before. I thought you might be hungry, so I raided the snack machines by the office. I, uh, hope you dont mind Doritos and Twinkies for breakfast.
I smiled and struggled to my feet, brushing my hair back. Any Ho Hos in the bunch? I asked, walking up to the table.
Mmm...no, sorry. Ben held up a package. But I do have Zingers.
We smiled and ate our hideously unhealthy breakfast without complaint, knowing food was an unknown equation. The days of easy access were over. Places like McDonalds or Wendys, where you could just walk in and order a hot breakfast, were a thing of the past. And many of the big superstores had been raided, gutted and picked clean when the chaos began. I wondered how long it would be before things went back to normal. I wondered if things would ever go back to normal.
How far is it to your parents farm? I asked, once the chip bags were empty and plastic wrappers covered the table. Ben handed me a Diet Coke, and I washed down the cloying sweetness in my throat.
Ben shrugged. About a fourteen-hour drive, if the roads are clear. We should get there by this evening if we dont run into anything.
Like rabid zombie vampires. I shivered and shook that thought away. Youll be home soon, then. Thats good.
Yeah. Ben didnt sound entirely convinced. I glanced up and saw him watching me intently, his chin on the back of his laced hands. A flutter went through my stomach. Abruptly, he stood and started cleaning up the piles of wrappers scattered about the table, before he stopped, shaking his head. Sorry. Old habits. Mom would always have us clear the dinner table for her. Come on. He grabbed the shotgun and opened the door for me. Lets get out of here. The sooner were on the road, the sooner well arrive.
We piled into the truck, after stashing the shotgun safely in the backseat, and Ben stuck the key in the ignition. Home, he muttered in a voice barely above a whisper, and turned the key.
Nothing happened.
Chapter Seven
My heart stood still. Ben swore quietly and turned the key again. Same result. Nothing. The engine lay still and cold and dead, and no amount of jiggling the key or pumping the gas pedal seemed to revive it.
Dammit. Ben jumped out of the drivers seat and stalked to the front, opening the hood with a rusty squeak. I watched him through the window, obeying when he told me to slide into the drivers seat and try the ignition again. We worked for nearly twenty minutes, but the old truck remained stubbornly silent.
Ben dropped the hood with a bang, his face sweaty and grim. I peeked out the drivers side window, trying to stay calm. No luck?
He shook his head. Fuses are blown, I think. That, or the battery is dead. Either way, Im not going to be able to get it started without jumper cables and another running engine. Dammit. He rubbed his jaw. Looks like were hoofing it.
To Illinois? The thought was staggering. A fourteen-hour drive will probably take us a week or more of walking, and thats if we dont run into anything.
I dont see any other way, do you? Ben looked around helplessly, hands on his hips. Well look for another vehicle down the road, but we cant stay here. I know, it scares me, too. But we have to get moving.
Daunting was the word that came to mindhiking across a lawless, empty, plague-ridden country, where society had broken down and humans were just as likely to turn on you as helpit was a frightening thought. Especially now, with those...things out there. But Ben was right; we couldnt stay here. We had to continue.
Ben dug an old green backpack out from under the seats, and we raided the broken vending machines again, stocking up on sweets, chips and soda, as much as the pack could carry. Hefting it to his back, slinging the gun over one shoulder, he beckoned to me, and we started down the empty road, feeling like the only two people left on Earth.
* * *
The highway continued, weaving through hills and forest, past side roads and off-ramps that led to unknown places. Occasionally, we passed cars on the road, pulled over on the shoulder, abandoned in ditches, or sometimes just stopped in the middle of the lane. Once, I thought I saw a person in one of the cars in a ditch, a woman slumped against the dashboard, and hurried over to help. But she was long dead, and so was her little boy in the backseat. Sickened, I turned away, hoping their deaths had been swift, and the images continued to haunt me the rest of the afternoon.
Ben inspected every car we came across, searching around the dashboard and glove compartments, hoping for a lucky break. But except for the dead womans car, none of them had keys, and hers was too damaged to use. Another, a van, seemed to be in good condition, but the tires were flat. I asked him once if we could hot-wire a vehicle into running, but neither of us had a clue how to do that. So we kept walking as the sun slid across the sky and the shadows around us lengthened.
Here, Ben said, handing me an open can of Sprite when we stopped for a break. I took a long swig and handed it back as he sat beside me on the guardrail. Wed been hiking uphill for what had seemed like miles, and I could feel the heat of his body against mine, our shoulders and arms lightly touching. My stomach did a weird little twirl, especially when his large hand came to rest over mine on the railing.
I think were coming up on a town, he said, after finishing off the can and tossing it into the ditch. If we are, it might be a good idea to stop and look around for a car. And food. Real food, anyway. He glanced at the backpack, lying open at our feet. Twinkies, Snowballs, chips and candy wrappers stood out brightly against the dull gray of the pavement. I might slip into a sugar-induced coma if I eat one more Twinkie.
I smiled, liking this lighter, easygoing version of Ben. Out in the sunlight, away from all the blood, death, horror and despair, things didnt look as bleak.
I grinned at him, bumping his shoulder, just as he looked back at me. And, very suddenly, we were staring at each other on a lonely, empty road, miles from anywhere.
The late-afternoon sun slanted through the branches of the pine trees, turning his hair golden-brown, his eyes hazel. I could see rings of amber and green around the coffee-colored irises. They were beautiful, and they held my gaze, soft and tender, and a little bit afraid. As if Ben was unsure where we stood, if this was all one-sided.
My heart pounded. Ben waited, not moving, though his eyes never left mine. The ball was in my court. I licked my lips and suddenly found myself leaning toward him.
The growl of a car engine echoed, unnaturally loud in the silence, making us both jerk up. Gazing down the road, I saw a flash of metal in the sun, speeding toward us, and my heart leaped. Ben stood, grabbing the shotgun from where it lay against the railing, as a rusty brown pickup roared around the bend and skidded to a halt in a spray of gravel.
My senses prickled a warning, and I moved closer to Ben as the doors opened and three big, rough-looking guys stepped out into the road. They looked related, brothers maybe, blond and tanned, with the same watery blue eyes. I caught the stench of alcohol wafting from the cab as they sauntered to the edge of the pavement and grinned at us.
They all had guns, one rifle and a couple pistols, though no one had raised a weapon yet. My stomach clenched with dread.