Assumed Dead, page 23
“Do you honestly think he can be alive, and still at your house?”
“If not at the house, he might have left a clue.”
“If we find nothing, what then?”
“What do you mean, ‘we’?”
“You know what I mean. You think I’d let you go alone and get yourself killed or zombified?”
“I can’t ask that of you, Matt. Not for this.”
“I’m coming, end of argument. So what if we find nothing? No Harrison? No clue where he is. Nothing. What then?”
“Then I promise you it’s over. I will assume he’s dead.”
“And settle for me?” Matt said, more bitter than the coffee.
“Not settle, no,” Peter said. “I’ll be free to be with you, without reservations. Holding nothing back.” He rested a hand on Matt’s. “You are not my second choice, Matt. I love you. But love doesn’t always come first.”
Matt leaned close, hoping for a kiss, wondering if they could get some time alone during this vigil, maybe in a locked bedroom. Where he could convince Peter with something other than words that he should forget the futile quest.
Peter pulled away. “I need to go check on my test subjects,” he said and rose. Matt watched him go, anger and fear churning his stomach into a ball of red-hot acid. Guilt swept him when he realized that the thing he wanted most in the world right now was to find Harrison’s unequivocally dead body at the end of the trip. Dead and walking about, or dead and lying on the ground, he didn’t care. Just dead would suit him.
* * * *
Two days later, when the test subjects showed no ill effects from the vaccine, Peter spent most of the afternoon injecting the rest of the group. They lined up at the house he’d made into his clinic, and one by one, he injected them and sent them on their way. Someone had found some candy in an abandoned store in town, so the kids each got a sucker for being good.
“I’m heading over to do Smithy,” Peter said to Matt and Louise, after the line finally ended. He hadn’t wanted Smithy standing under the hot sun and had told him to wait in the house next door.
“Um, Peter, I think you forgot one person,” Matt said.
Peter frowned, looking down at the list he’d written. Everyone’s name was checked off except Smithy’s. Matt and Louise included. “I don’t think so,” he said. “Only Smithy to go. You know we’re not doing Hope.”
“He means you, you prat,” Louise said. “Sorry, I mean Doctor prat.”
Oh. Yes, the one name he’d forgotten to put on the list.
“I’ll do it,” Matt said. “Don’t look like that. I’ve done plenty of them today. You said I’ve got good at injections.”
“Okay.”
“Maybe this one should be into his ass,” Louise said. Peter scowled at her. Matt looked pained. Since that conversation in the kitchen, there’d been no touching of asses going on between them. “Sorry.” She looked awkward and went off into the kitchen to do who knew what.
“Roll your sleeve up,” Matt said. Peter did, exposing the meaty part of his biceps. He made himself watch as Matt donned a fresh pair of latex gloves, prepped the site with an alcohol wipe, took a syringe from its pack, and pierced one of the last few vials of vaccine sitting in a box on the table. He had to force himself to watch all the bits with the needle. A doctor he might be, but he’d never liked getting stuck himself.
Matt licked his lips, frowned with concentration. “Stop watching,” he said. “You’re making me nervous. I can’t stick it in with you looking.” Then he blushed. “Oh God. That sounds terrible. I—”
“Do you want me to have Louise do it?”
“No. I can do it. Stop looking.”
Peter stopped looking. He gazed off into the middle distance and barely even winced when Matt stuck him, with a murmured “Sorry.” In a moment the vaccine was in, and Matt carefully withdrew the needle and taped a bandage over the wound.
Peter smiled at him, pulled his shirt down over it. “Well done.”
Matt sat back. “I’m sweating,” he said. “Don’t know why it was that much harder with you. Because you’re the expert, I suppose. Did it hurt?”
“Barely at all. I have to go and see Smithy, and we’re done.”
“Want a hand?”
“I can manage. See you back out at the camp.”
“Okay.”
He couldn’t look at Matt’s disappointed face. The same disappointment he saw on it every time he caught his eye the past couple of days. He gathered up what he needed and headed next door.
Smithy and his girlfriend Clara were snoozing in the living room. Peter could appreciate the need to do that. And it was so peaceful here, away from the camp, away from the vaccine demo guys, who were at the other end of main street.
“Hi,” he said as they woke at the sound of his footsteps. “Sorry to disturb you. Smithy, I’m going to give you a quick exam first and then give you the vaccine.”
“Right on, Doc. I’m ready for it. A man might finally sleep without one eye open once he doesn’t have to be afraid of those stinking bastards anymore.”
Peter had been spoiled, he felt, sleeping peacefully on the island, knowing he was safe. He examined Smithy, made sure his lungs were clear, checked his blood pressure was normal, and examined the cracked ribs.
“They feel a lot better,” Smithy said in answer to his question. “I thought when you didn’t tape them, they wouldn’t heal, but guess I was wrong.”
“We don’t tape them these days. Makes you more likely to end up with pneumonia. Rest will fix them. Are you doing your breathing exercises?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I’m making sure of it,” Clara said.
“Good. Is the pain relief strong enough?” he asked Smithy. “Please don’t try to be tough to impress me. I’m your doctor; I’m not Clara.”
Smithy snorted. “She knows how tough I’m not. No, Doc, the pain is okay.”
“You’ll take several weeks to fully heal. So be patient. Rest, gentle activity, breathing exercises.”
“Yeah. Once we get to that Vaccine City place, I’m gonna act like it’s a resort.”
“Stay away from the bar, with those painkillers in you. Okay, let’s give you the vaccine, and you can go back to the camp.”
He prepped patient and needle and gave him the jab.
“Thanks, Doc,” Smithy said as Clara helped him into his jacket while Peter cleared up. “You want a ride back to the camp with us?”
“No. I’ll see you back there.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
The sound of Smithy and Clara’s car faded away. Peter sat in the quiet house. The dead house. That was what you could call it. Pictures of strangers on the wall. Someone else’s books on the shelves. The windows streaked and dirty from the rain, making the place as dim as if the drapes were drawn. His home must look like this. Or something worse. What if it had been trashed by looters? Pictures smashed on the floor and trodden on? Or if there had been battles fought there against zombies or humans? The walls sullied with what would have become brown, rusty stains, and pockmarked with bullet holes. What if it had burned to the ground in a fire there was nobody left to put out?
He left the dead house. There was no sign of activity in the makeshift clinic next door. Matt and Louise had gone back to camp too. Peter should get there before dusk fell. He had some time, though, and felt the need for solitude after being stuck in a house with seven other people for two days.
He left his bag on the porch and started walking up the main street, away from the camp, into the east. As he walked, he thought about Matt. He loved Matt. He couldn’t deny it anymore. He loved him. How could he not? Brave and fierce when he needed to be. Tireless when helping others. Yet fainting when he had to remember the details of the gruesome demo zombie. He would have gone over like a falling tree if Peter hadn’t grabbed him and lowered him to sit down. Had he seen Matt was going down because of his medical training? Or because he never took his eyes off him unless he had to? He loved Matt as much as he loved Harrison. How could one heart hold both of them at once?
He passed more empty houses, their windows grubby, gray, and dead. A living town lay in the group’s future. The place they were already calling Vaccine City. He and Matt could have a home there together. But he knew they wouldn’t if Peter went to look for Harrison, even if they didn’t find him. Even if at that point Peter said he belonged with Matt, they wouldn’t survive. Because Matt would always know he’d come second.
Going to look for Harrison was insane. Irrational. And incredibly selfish. He was the doctor for the group. For Hope and the other kids. For Smithy, who might suffer a relapse of his pneumothorax anytime. Yet Peter proposed to waltz off to look for someone who couldn’t possibly still be there? What the hell was he thinking? People needed him. Not only the group, but Vaccine City. He should get to work there as soon as possible. If Harrison was still alive somewhere, then the best thing Peter could do for him was help get the vaccine to as many people as possible.
He turned around to head back to camp. He had to talk to Matt. He had to—
“Fuck!”
A zombie, its shambling feet silent in the thick dust on the road, walked about twenty feet behind him. Its mouth gaped, and a horrible low moan came from it as it reached for him, closing in. Peter grabbed for his pistol—which wasn’t there. It was back in his jacket pocket at the makeshift clinic. He was about to run like hell when a black-clad figure stepped out of a side street. A long-handled ax thrummed through the air and sliced through the top of the zombie’s head like a table knife slicing the top off a boiled egg. The creature dropped into a heap on the ground. Half-rotted brain matter spilled from the top of the opened skull.
Peter stood paralyzed and absolutely certain he was about to have a heart attack. His heart thumped so hard and painfully that if he’d cut himself, the blood would surely spurt like a fire hose. The world around him went distant and muffled, and he shivered, suddenly as cold as a corpse. The black-clad man stepped up to him, and he recognized Cal Richardson. He must have been stalking the zombie, even as it was stalking Peter. He took Peter’s arm.
“Easy, Doc. Don’t go passing out on me. Come on.”
He hauled Peter across to the stoop of a house and made him sit on the steps. Peter dropped his head into his hands and waited for his head to stop spinning. Richardson stroked his back, chafing Peter’s shirt against his skin quite roughly to bring him back to his senses. After a moment Peter lifted his head from his hands.
“Thank you,” he croaked.
“No problem. Where’s your weapon?”
“I forgot it.”
“That’s much too stupid a thing for a smart guy like you to do.”
Peter shook his head. “It’s so peaceful here. And where I’ve been, since it all started, it didn’t give me the habit of going armed everywhere. It was…safe.”
“Safe? I didn’t think anywhere was safe. Where were you, that space station?”
“What?”
“You know, the ISS.” Cal gestured at the sky. “I wouldn’t have wanted to be those poor bastards stuck up there with no way home. I guess they must have starved in the end.”
“I think they had a way to escape without rescue,” Peter said. But escape to what? Back to a planet filled with walking corpses. It was too much like the choice Peter’s group had made. Stay and starve or freeze, or take a chance?
Cal reached into his jacket pocket and took out a hip flask. He offered it to Peter first. “Here. It’s brandy. It’ll help you get over your shock.”
Peter took it wordlessly and drank deep. It was damn good brandy. When you didn’t have to pay, why settle for the cheap stuff?
“Thanks.” He passed it back. “We were on an island. Me and some of the group I arrived with. Up in northern Canada. Hudson Bay. We stayed there until we heard about the vaccine. It seemed safest.” He felt ashamed, as if admitting cowardice. Sitting out the war.
“Smart,” Cal said. “Like Mitch’s oil rig. That Australian guy was with you on this island?”
“He’s from New Zealand. Um, yes, he was there.”
“Cute guy.”
“Uh, yes.”
“You two an item?”
Intrusive much? “Ah…maybe.”
“Thought so. Because he looks at you as if you’re made out of bacon and fresh coffee.”
Peter laughed, and feared if he let himself laugh for long, he’d cry. “Are you trying to distract me, Mr. Richardson?”
“Distraction’s better than post-traumatic stress disorder.” Richardson stood and offered him a hand up. “Come on. Me and my ax will walk you back to your camp.”
They walked. Peter’s legs were still shaky. If he’d been with Matt, he’d have grabbed him for support. He didn’t try that with Cal. They left the destroyed zombie lying in the street for later cleanup.
“Remember, the vaccine won’t be effective for a few days yet,” Cal said. “Don’t go anywhere alone and especially not without a weapon. Always find a safe place before dark. You can’t see them in the dark, but they can find you. Always know what’s coming up behind you. Edged weapons are preferable, because they are silent. And we’ve got a lot of our zombie-clearing parties hunting with bows. Gunshots bring attention to your position, so if you have to shoot, move right after, as long as you can do so safely.” He glanced at Peter. “Starting to wish you never left your island?”
Peter shrugged. The island, no. Moosonee, maybe.
“Even once the vaccine kicks in and the zombies lose interest, don’t get complacent,” Cal went on with his lecture. “Mitch is going to tell you to offer the vaccine to others you run into on your way to the colony. I’m telling you that if you’re smart, you’ll keep your heads down and get to the colony as fast as you can. Get the women and kids out of danger.”
“People keep saying there are other groups out there. What kinds of groups?”
“People who want to use the vaccine to gain power over everyone who doesn’t have it. Or groups who don’t think blacks or gays have any place in the new world, so want to take control of the vaccine and decide who gets it. Or groups who want to destroy the vaccine, because they think it’s a trick to turn everyone gay.”
“What?”
“They think because the doc made it in part from my blood, it’s gonna turn everyone gay.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Yeah, but these crazy bastards are out there. There are some who think the plague was like Noah’s flood. Wiping out the world so we can start over. They want to either grab the vaccine or destroy it—some of them think the vaccine defies God’s will to cleanse the planet. Some groups aren’t religious that way but think we need to go back to a simple agrarian lifestyle.” He shrugged. “Which I’m told means living like peasant farmers. That doesn’t appeal to me, but some of those people are prepared to use force to make everyone live that way.”
“Can’t say it appeals to me either,” Peter said. He wasn’t keen on resorting to treating his patients with feverfew and willow bark.
“So you either stay away from them or you kill the fuckers. Ah, don’t tell Mitch I said that last part. He’s…not always as practical as me.”
Practical apparently meaning “utterly ruthless.” Peter nodded, though. It was always good policy to agree with a man carrying a four-foot-long ax.
* * * *
Matt looked up from sitting on the steps outside the house they’d been using as a clinic. Out of the gathering gloom came Peter, and at his side, Cal Richardson, carrying a large ax.
“Another one wandering about on his own when it’s getting dark,” Cal said, sounding irritated. “Though at least he has a weapon.” He nodded at the hunting rifle at Matt’s side. “That’s too long a gun. You need something shorter for close quarters. We’re using MP5s these days. Come and chat with me tomorrow. Or send your army friend. He’ll know what I’m talking about. Okay, you guys get back to camp. I’ll see you later.”
He strode off and was soon lost to sight in the gloom.
“Nice ax,” Matt said.
“Very nice ax,” Peter said. “My favorite ax I ever met.”
“Ah, you okay?” Matt asked. Peter looked a bit odd. Had a strange expression in his eyes.
“Fine.”
“I came back with the car…” Matt waved at a vehicle they’d commandeered. “Didn’t want you walking back in the dark.”
“Thank you. My things are next door. Let’s go get them.”
“Okay.” Matt followed him inside. The room was dim, but Peter found his jacket and doctor’s bag.
“Matt, can we talk?” Peter’s voice was as odd as that look in his eye. A little quaver to it. “Here, I mean, not back at camp. In private.”
“It will be dark in twenty minutes.”
“So we’ll stay here for the night. I’ve got a walkie-talkie. I can let R.J. know where we are.”
Matt tried to study his face but couldn’t read him. His eyes were deeply shadowed.
“Okay,” Matt said. “Hang on, I’ll lock the door.”
He did that, not wanting anything wandering in on them. Then he checked the back door in the kitchen, making sure that was secure. It had some glass panes, but they’d hear those shatter, and the door was locked with a key, not a latch, so nobody could open it by breaking the glass and reaching through.
Back in the living room, he found Peter had closed the drapes and lit a couple of candles he must have had in his bag.
“Sit down, please,” Peter said, voice tight and under some strain, Matt thought. What was wrong? What bad news was he going to get now? Matt sat by Peter on the couch. He placed the rifle carefully on the table.
“I’ve changed my mind about going home,” Peter said. “When the group leaves, tomorrow or the day after, I’m going with them.”
