The King of Clayfield - 01 (49 page)

"I'm tempted to drive us into town," she said, "find a house there, and use the shower to get this gunk off me.”

"It would be a very cold shower," I said.

"I don't care," she said. "I'm tired of smelling it. I don't know if I'll ever get the smell off."

"We'll go back, have some wine, get some sleep, and go out first thing. We'll find a place where we can all get a hot bath."

"Really?" she said.

"Well...a warm bath…..Warm-ish.”

When we got back to the house a few minutes later we found Jen and Brian sleeping in the floor in front of the heater.

"Should we wake them?" Sara asked.

"Yeah," I said. "Jen would want to go ahead and drink something."

I went over to Jen and shook her awake. She opened her eyes. When she saw me, she gave me a little grin.

"We found some wine," I said. "Get up and have a glass or two, then you can go back to sleep."

"You got glasses?" she said.

I stared at her.

"You didn't, did you?"

"I rely on you to think of stuff like that,” I said. “Put your mouth under the spigot.”

"Brian didn't try to shoot you did he? He was a little jumpy right after you left."

"Brian is asleep. Sara is waking him."

Jen pushed herself up on her elbow.
 
 
 
 
"Brian Davies, you ass!" Jen said playfully. "Falling asleep on watch--you should be ashamed of yourself."

Sara was kneeling next to him. She looked up at us.

"He's
 
hot with fever, and he's not waking up."

Brian had done this before, but this time was different.

"It's too soon, isn't it?" Sara said.

I got to thinking about it and—

"He's been out away from his house for a while. He might have contracted the virus during that time."

"Get some wine in him!" Jen said. "Maybe it isn't too late."

We couldn't wake him. He wouldn't even stir.

"Dammit!" Jen said. "Zach went real fast...real fast. Make him drink it!"

I propped Brian's head in my lap and gently opened his mouth.
 
I put the spigot to the box of wine
 
over his mouth and turned it just enough for a trickle. It filled his mouth and spilled over the side.

"He's not swallowing it," I said. "I'm afraid I'm going to drown him."

Jen dragged herself across the hardwood floors until she was next to him. She started stroking his throat.

"Brian!" she yelled. "Brian, swallow the damn wine!"

"He's burning up," I said. "Let's take him outside in the cold air."

I pulled him outside and lowered the night vision goggles so I could see. I propped his head up in my lap again and gave him more wine. Again, it filled his mouth and spilled over. Sara came out with the shotgun and stood sentry
 
in front of the porch. Jen pulled herself over the threshold, but it was so dark outside, I doubted she could see anything.

Then Brian coughed and sprayed wine in my face. His eyes opened. Through the night vision goggles, his eyes glowed like a demon's. He stared at me coughing and trying to swallow the wine in his mouth.

"Sit up," I said. "You need to get as much down as you can."

I helped him to a sitting position. He slouched there looking down at his lap.

"Head up, Brian," I said. "You need more. I'm going to let it run into your mouth."

His head came up slowly. He looked in my direction, blankly. It was very dark, so he couldn't see me, and he was likely delirious from the fever.

"It's okay," I said. "I can see you; I'm wearing the goggles. Just tilt your head back and I'll get the wine into your mouth."

He just kept staring in my direction.

"Brian, do it," Jen said.

Jen was a little brighter than Brian because I was seeing the faint glow of the gas logs reflecting off of her.

"Is he doing it?" she said. "Brian, are you doing it?"

Then he made a sound. It started out as a
 
whine then built up in volume while deepening in tone. It was like the growl of a cat. I scooted back away from him.

"Jen, get inside and shut the door," I whispered. "Sara and I will come in through the back."

"What happened?" she said. "Brian?"

Brian
 
turned his head toward the direction of Jen's voice. He was between me and her.

"Do it, Jen," I whispered.

I stood up and stepped backward.

"Sara, get around back. Jen will let you in."

Sara stood there on the lawn staring at Brian. With the night
 
vision goggles on, she looked like something from a science fiction movie. Brian had turned toward my voice now.

"Jen, get inside now.
 
He's....gone."

"No," she said. "We have to--"

"Both of
 
you get in the house!" I said, louder than I should have.

Sara took off immediately in a sprint around the side of the house. Brian leapt to his feet, arms extended trying to get his bearings in the dark. He growled again. Jen was
 
pushing herself backward across the floor, crying. I had no weapon, just a box of wine.

"Get that door shut!" I said, backing away.

Brian took a
 
step toward me, following my voice. There was steam coming off him. Jen groped for the door to
 
swing it shut. Brian looked her
 
direction.

"No, Brian," I said. "Come on, now.
 
Follow me.
 
Dammit, Jen, shut the door!"

"I'm trying, but--"

Brian was fast. He
 
darted inside the house.

"Jen!" I yelled.

I was close but not close enough. I ran across the porch.
 
When I got to the door,
 
he was on top of her. She was screaming. I hit him in the head
 
as
 
hard as I could with the box of wine. The box crushed in, but he stayed. I hit him again and again and again. In the green
 
light I could see the dark
 
wine dribbling out of the box and pooling on the floor.

I'd have to use something else; we were going to need that wine.

I kicked him off her. He rolled away. The wine was everywhere....

But the wine was a Zinfandel. It
 
shouldn't have been that dark.

It was blood. Brian's blood was on the box of wine; the blood in the floor belonged to
 
Jen.
 
Her throat was opened up. It was smeared on
 
Brian's
 
cheek. He
 
hissed
 
and came at me.

"God, Brian, no."

I backed out of the house.
 
He looked even more like a demon now. He was sort of hunched forward, eyes glowing, and
 
arms out. Steam emanated off him like smoke as if he'd just stepped out of Hell.
 
I didn't think he'd be able to
 
see me once I got into the yard.
 
He stepped out onto the
 
porch looking around and listening for me. I felt so helpless. Jen was right there so close,
 
bleeding, and I couldn't get to her.

Sara rounded the corner of the house.

"I can't get it open," she said. "Jen hasn't unlocked--"

Brian ran toward her. Sara saw him coming. I could tell she was startled at first, but quickly turned the 12 gauge and
 
let one fly
 
from the hip. There was a flash of bright green from the end of the weapon.
 
The blast hit him in the chest and
 
knocked him off his feet. He hit the ground and was still.

I ran into the house and knelt next to Jen. There was so much blood.
 
I put my hand on her neck, trying to stop it.
 
She couldn't speak, and I didn't know what to say to her. The blood still came, seeping between my fingers.
 
I took off my
 
bandana mask
 
and put
 
it over the wound, but I
 
couldn't stop it.

I felt sick. I knocked the goggles away so I wouldn't have to see.

I heard Sara come into the house. She didn't say anything. My eyes had adjusted to the dim light from the heater. I couldn't see much, but it was enough. Sara came in closer and put her hand on my shoulder.

We were there like that for a while--probably not as long as it seemed.

"We can't stay here," she said softly. "They'll be here soon.”

I nodded but I couldn’t find the strength to talk.

"Grab one of the bags and go get in the bus," she said. "I'll take care of the rest."

I looked up at her. She was still wearing the goggles.

I nodded again and stood slowly.
 
I don't really remember getting the bag, but I did. I felt empty and lost. I got on the bus, went back a couple of rows and sat. I don't know how much time passed, but finally Sara came outside carrying the other bag, the M4,
 
and the shotgun. She climbed inside and stowed the things.

I checked out for a while. I know we drove around, and I know Sara got out of the bus a couple of times. The next thing I know, she's standing in front of me.

"Come on," she said. "We'll stay here until daylight."

I looked out the window. We were parked in front of
 
Nicholas Somerville's house.
 
I looked at Sara.

"It's okay," she said. "We'll leave early in the morning. Besides, I doubt anyone will bother us here. They've already raided the houses on this street."

The water
 
still worked. Sara heated
 
some on the gas range and we both took quick, chilly,
 
and much-needed baths.
 
We changed into the
 
T-shirts and socks from the rucksacks, and both of us found
 
some pants and jackets to wear in the
 
Somervilles' closet. They didn't
 
fit, but at least they
 
didn't smell like death and rot.

Sara had removed the plastic bladder from the box of wine. She pulled it from the rucksack and filled each of us a glass. We righted the overturned couch in the living room and just sat.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"It wasn't his fault," I said absently. "It wasn't Brian's fault.
 
He wasn't him."

"I know," she said. "I'm sorry."

I nodded.

The house was cold.
 
The
 
Somerville's gas furnace would never do us any good. It relied on an electric thermostat and electric blower.

I pulled
 
the curtains off the window, and we used them like a blanket.

"I don't want to leave Jen like that," I said. "I don't want to just leave her in the floor."

"We can go bury her tomorrow,"
 
she said.

That statement made me realize how final it was, and I got choked up. Sara
 
took my hand.

"I'm sorry," she said.

"No. I...I don't want to see her. I don't want to see her either."

"I can do it."

"No," I said. "We'll go back when the sun is up and burn the house. Brian, too--I don't want him getting up again."

We finished our glasses of wine and started on
 
another. Sara eventually fell asleep
 
with her
 
head on my shoulder, but I didn't sleep at all. I just kept replaying the events of the
 
evening, of the day, of
 
the two weeks--all of it.

I kept trying to tell myself not to get so upset. I had really only known Jen for a couple of weeks. If it had been a couple of "normal" weeks we
 
might have gone out on a date or two, but that would have been all. It felt like things had been accelerated and amplified since the virus.
 
Certain emotions were
 
unusually
 
heightened while others were
 
unusually subdued.