“We’ll call these behavioral anomalies ‘supraneural episodes’. There appears to be a relationship between glial cell consumption and intellect retention in the infected, but we need more data to determine cofactors.”
“What the hell are we gonna do if these ‘episodes’ don’t go away?”
“Pray, General, because only God could save us then.”
–Dr Ava Sherman. Cheyenne Mountain, Colorado. 2 Months After.
----------------------------------------
Oh God, she thought. Not Shannon too!
Leah brushed the sweat from her red, curled hair and did another lap around the restaurant, gripping the pistol she’d stolen with shaking hands. Her heart raced as more gunshots echoed. Where the hell was the government in all this? Reno was burning!
Another car crashed nearby, followed by another agonizing scream, and Leah buried her face in the burgundy scarf she’d been given. It was a gift from her mother after the engagement was official. Again, she wanted to cry. What happened to Greg was still too fresh.
Knocks hit the window. “Is anyone in there!?”
Leah ducked behind a booth. Please, just go away!
“We should keep moving,” another decided, his tone hushed. “What if there’s another of those things in there?”
Leah knelt an inch lower, praying that they’d leave them alone. Of course when the apocalypse hit, she’d end up trapped at work, wearing her fucking uniform, name tag and all. At least she’d been promoted to assistant manager before this mess. There was no way in or out of the restaurant without the keys they’d given her, and she’d strapped them right onto her name tag where they couldn’t get lost.
“Let’s just kick it in,” the first looter said.
If they got in the restaurant… If they saw what had happened to Shannon…
“No!” Leah screamed as she stepped into the open. “Stay back!”
It was just a couple of guys her age. They threw their hands in the air at the sight of the gun.
“Please,” one said. “We have to get off the street.”
“You can’t come in here,” Leah decided, more firmly.
“We’ll die if we stay out here. For the love of God, let us in! We won’t hurt you, I swear.”
His buddy suddenly turned away from both. His eyes widened, and he flicked his friend on the head. “Run!”
They broke into a sprint.
That terrible, heart-wrenching moan bellowed again. A sick man wandered into view, stumbling after the guys. Leah lunged into cover before she could be seen herself. The moaning dwindled.
This was too much. First Greg, then Lucy, then Ricardo. They had all been at the house just last night, trying to ride out the lockdown in style. And then they were gone. Like that! Only Shannon survived, but she’d been hurt too.
Leah took a deep breath and went for the storeroom. Her best friend lay where she’d been left.
Shannon looked so delicate. Her straight black hair was still tied in a bun, and her beautiful blue eyes were closed. With the rags wrapped around her injured face, there was no way to see the damage that’d occurred to her mouth, but it was bad.
Leah had warned Shannon not to help that woman. She’d told her that it was a bad idea, and that they didn’t know if she’d be sick or not. But Shannon always was a stubborn soul, and had a habit of making the worst decisions during even the best of days. How many times had Leah bailed her out now?
Not that she minded. Everyone else thought that Shannon was a loser. That she’d never make anything of herself. That she was a lost cause. But Leah knew the truth. She knew the kind, soft-hearted spirit beneath, even if Shannon could be so goddamned difficult at times. Who could blame her though, after what she’d dealt with growing up. No one else knew her like Leah.
Suddenly, Shannon stirred. Leah almost let out a breath of relief, but then Shannon moaned in pain and her eyes opened. They were white. They were empty.
They were sick.
Leah withdrew a step. “No… Not you too, Shannon. Please, snap out of it!”
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But Shannon rose to her feet like she was controlled by puppet strings. The rags fell carelessly to the side, with the wound that’d ripped her face apart now exposed. She hissed, blood spilling from her ruined mouth.
Leah closed her eyes and pressed the barrel of the gun into the side of her head. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t see this happen to Shannon too. They’d gone through so much together, and there was no one else left. With her gone too, what the hell was there to live for!?
But Leah pulled the trigger too late. She squeaked. Shannon was atop her. Biting. Scratching. Gnawing on her face. And there was nothing she could do…
* * *
Leah opened her eyes. Her vision was blurred and her mind was slow in getting back to focus. Dust was in the air, and the sun was high above. Had she been knocked out?
Then she heard the distinctive hiss of a hollow, and lurched straight up. There was no one else around, but she recognized the bottom floor of the building she’d used as overwatch. Well, half the building, anyway. Something had hit the second floor hard enough to wreck the place.
The memory bled back in as Leah rubbed her head. It wasn’t until the last moment that she’d seen Xander driving up with an RPG. She’d been too focused on getting Liam out…
Another hollow moaned. Can’t think of that now. Hollows were wandering aimlessly outside, with a few studying Leah curiously. She closed her eyes and hissed back, using the impression she’d cultivated over the years to throw them off. The hollows went back to their shuffling.
Leah tried to grab some debris for support, but realized her right arm ended before the elbow. It took another second to spot where the rest had landed, on the ground and severed not far away.
Ugh. Not again. Leah used her other arm for support and limbered to her feet. One leg dragged uselessly behind the other, as the muscles in it had been shredded by shrapnel. It would take a hell of a lot of time to get herself moving again correctly.
Leah drew her black steel combat knife, snatched up her severed arm, and made for the street. It was time to move.
* * *
So hungry. Needed more food.
She’d eaten most of the meat. Started with the head. Worked down from there. But then it tasted bad. Something wrong. Red cloth in her mouth. Not meat. She spit out red cloth. Needed more. Needed flesh.
Noises. Voices. Close. She rose again to her feet and went for the noise. Her face hit the wall and then glass. Noise was so close.
There was a truck outside. People too. Fresh meat everywhere. So many… Some with guns. Didn’t matter. Needed to eat.
She scratched the window and hissed.
“For the love of God, think of what you’re doing!” one said. He was fat. White shirt and black tie. So much meat.
“We really doing this, sir?” another said. Smaller. Leaner. Camouflage shirt. But still fresh.
“Got no choice,” another said, also camouflaged. “Don’t know how many more could be infected.” She noticed his arm. It was red. Bloody. She moaned and scratched the window again. So close…
“You can’t do this,” fat man said. “This is murder!”
“You should’ve thought of that before you hid one of them!” bleeding man said.
“She was my wife!”
“…Fuck this!”
Camouflage men started shooting. Noises. Screams. Everyone dropped.
Then blood. Blood, everywhere! She wailed and banged her fist against the window. So close. So much. So hungry!
Camouflage men got in truck. Drove off. Nobody left alive. Only meat. So much flesh!
She slammed her head against window. Didn’t break. Scratched harder. Didn’t break. So hungry. Needed food.
She wandered in circle. Needed exit. Needed escape from room. Had to get food. So hungry. Taste of blood so close!
She gripped the door. Didn’t scratch. Didn’t slam. Fingers wrapped around knob. She squeezed. Knob stuck.
She paused. Other hand still holding red cloth. Something different about it. Something important. She looked at old meat. Felt sad. What was old meat?
She walked over. Saw waitress uniform. Wasn’t hungry for that. Fresh meat outside. Had to escape.
But she couldn’t. Eyes watched old meat. Felt different. Wanted something. Needed something.
Key! She felt waitress uniform. Shiny metal on chain. She yanked.
Went back to door. Put key in lock. Squeezed. Moved. Lock clicked. Door opened a crack.
She paused. Old meat still there. Still dead. Something missing. She looked at key. Saw name tag attached.
Leah, she thought. Sounded good. Sounded right.
Smell of blood strong. So hungry. Fresh meat outside!
Leah opened the door and stumbled through, scarf in hand.
* * *
Leah peered out from the door of the general store she’d hidden in. Hollows were everywhere, driven out of hibernation by the gunfire. Even if she wanted to make a break for it, she wasn’t outrunning them with this dinged up leg, and the only vehicles in sight were the ones they’d trashed during the firefight.
Always a struggle, huh? She wrapped her surviving fingers around her knife and waited for the right moment.
One of the hollows strayed too far from the others.
“Hey!” Leah whispered, just loud enough for it to hear and no one else. The hollow turned and stared. “Your mother was a whore.”
The hollow hissed and wobbled her way, and Leah withdrew a few steps. Corralling it into the back room and out of sight of the street was easy.
As the hollow rounded the bend, Leah swept out her working leg and tripped it. The door closed with a slam, and she stabbed for its back. But her body was more damaged than she’d thought, and her blade only hit its shoulder, and not its spinal cord as planned.
The hollow rolled against her, sending Leah down too. She grit her teeth and tried to grapple back, but the hollow had four working limbs, and she had only two and a half. Nails scratched against flesh and teeth bit down, but she managed to get behind its back before it could strike her head. The hollow moaned as Leah locked it in place with her thighs and arm.
Slowly, carefully, Leah angled the black steel of her knife into the hollow’s mouth. It thrashed in response while she tried to maintain the most awkward rear naked choke she’d ever performed. This was definitely harder with only one arm.
But there was success. A bloodied tooth popped free as she wrenched her knife back out. The hollow’s struggles doubled, and again she was forced to recover the security of her hold, this time using her severed arm as a brace against its neck to give her surviving hand more leverage.
She looked at the tooth and sighed. One down. A lot to go.