The Undead World (Book 2): The Apocalypse Survivors (20 page)

"I don't think so. I think I might throw up again," she said listlessly. "I wish I knew what I did with the pink medicine. I think I dropped it somewhere in the tunnel."

Ram did not like the way she had suddenly gone lethargic or how she had broken out in a sweat; it plastered her hair down and turned her face shiny. "It's too hot in here now," he said, getting to his feet. "Let's get this door open a little bit. That's better. And let's see what's in these drawers, maybe there's something good." Despite his ebbing energy he tipped her a wink to try to rally her spirits; she only continued to look upon him dully, her eyes glazed and her mouth hanging slack.

He knelt beside the sewing table and opened the bottom drawer, pra
ying to find another bottle of Pepto, or anything that would help her to feel better. Instead he unearthed a hoard of chopsticks, enough to build a doghouse with, and a supply of soy sauce packets, enough to drown in, and beneath all that was a confused rash of buttons. They were of every color and caliber. He took a handful and let them sift through his fingers, enjoying the simple tactile experience.

Jillybean looked over at the sound of them skittering back down among the rest. Ram gave her a smile which she returned tepidly. "Hey, I found a walrus in here," he told her.

"You did? Like Ipes kind of walrus?"

"No, much bigger." Ram turned away, took a pair of chopsticks from the drawer, and stuck them up under his upper lip making long "tusks" out of them
—just doing so made him want to gag. He had to take a deep breath to steady his stomach before he turned back to her.

"Hi. I'm Wally the walrus," he said around the wooden tusks. Just this little act took up much of his remaining energy. He had hoped for a giggle for his effort, but she could only smile briefly. Her face was cherry-red and fever-bright and that meant she was getting close. First was the fever. Then came the delirium, ranting and raving, then she would slip into a coma. Then she would come awake as one of
them
.

She swallowed thickly and said with an effort, "Ipes says my dad used to do that, too, but I don't
amember."

"Oh yeah?" Having anything in his mouth almost had him barfing; quickly he pulled them out. "Do you want some buttons? There's a
million in here. There's also some soy-sauce." He held up one of the packets.

"No thank you," she said in a little voice, and then laid back into the comforter, unable to summon the energy to do anything but stare up at the ceiling, which was turning black from the fire. "Isn't that what you put on your food this morning?"

Ram dropped the soy sauce and gazed at the girl in confusion. "What? No, it was teriyaki sauce. But...how did you know?"

"I saw you this morning after breakfast," Jillybean answered after a sigh. "You almost ran over Ipes and you made some sort of meat and you put that
terriblyaki sauce on it. I ate your leftovers; I liked it this morning, but now I couldn't eat it at all. I think that it'll make me more sickerer. I can't even think about it.”

She had seen him at breakfast? How was that possible? He had been way on the other side of the city...no, further than that, he was in the suburbs. Wasn't that miles from here? As he struggled to remember his morning a burning drop of sweat stung his eye; without thinking he ran his sleeve across his face, then he drug his hand through his thick hair and stared down at Jillybean without really seeing her, his train of thought completely derailed.

"Man it's hot," he said, more to himself than to her. Nevertheless she nodded slowly as if the effort was nearly too much.

"I'm burning up, Mister Ram."

"Yeah," he said in a whisper. "What were we talking about?" His mind had been on something...breakfast and Jillybean and something about miles. With his growing fever his mind felt torpid and his thoughts came to him sluggishly out of a grey haze.

"I'll just open the door," he mumbled, forgetting that he had already opened it. With the lacquered hunks of table wood finally catching on fire the sewing room was hot as a furnace and with the Persian rug belching out black smoke Ram could barely see the other side of the room

He stood up and felt the floor tilting and the walls spinning.

The next second he found himself on the floor of the sewing room, while above him Jillybean shook at him weakly and said, "Ipes says we have to get out of here. The smoke will kill us."

There was a lag time between her words leaving her lips and his understanding them. They were going to die if they stayed? Maybe it was better if they did.

"Come here, Jillybean," he said, gently pulling her down and resting her head in the pocket of his shoulder. She didn't resist. "Maybe it would be
good if you slept." Lovingly he touched her cheek.

"And you won't leave me?" she whispered. "We'll be monsters together, you promise?"

"I promise."

Chapter 20

Ram

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

They would be monsters together and monsters forever. That's what fate had in mind for them.

Lying on the ground, the smoke wasn't nearly as bad; it was only a grey haze a foot or so above his face. The air was cooler as well and his head cleared somewhat. But was that a good thing? The minute before he had been readily accepting of his oncoming death; now he felt the loss, and was especially sad about the little girl. Ram kissed Jillybean on the forehead.

"I won't leave you," he told her. "It's the least I can do for a girl who saved me twice now."

She cracked a bleary eye and said, "Ipes says it
’s three times. This morning when you were surrounded. This afternoon when you were tied to the pole, and this evening when you almost drownded."

Her words were little whispers against the backdrop of the rain and the fire. Ram wondered if he hear
d correctly. "That was you this morning?" he asked.

"Yes," she said with an effort. "You were running around this person's front yard, '
cept the person wasn't a person, he was a monster."

Though the smoke was a little less, his head began to spin even faster. There was something in her words that he was missing; some vital piece of information that was on the tip of his brain that he felt for certain would make some sort of difference. It was like a puzzle and a word search combined. It roused him more than the grief of his coming death.

"In the street, that was you?" he went on after a moment when the answer to the puzzle simply didn't reveal itself to him. "How did you follow me all the way from the other house where I had breakfast? And...and what did you do? The zombies were all around me, but you did something to distract them."

"I threw a magic marble," Jillybean answered through lips that barely parted. "I'm tired, Mister Ram. I can't keep my eyes open. Ipes says when I wake up I'll be a monster so I'm trying to stay awake but I can't. I'm too sleepy."

The puzzle would just have to go unsolved he decided. "Then go to sleep, little Jillybean," he said with a smile that she didn't see. "And don't worry about this monster business. Fate has brought us together."

Within seconds, she began to snore a child's snore. The light, trusting sound caused his smile to jitter at the corners, and within seconds the tears finally began. They had been threatening for some time, but now that he was out of time he dropped the last of his manly persona and let them come.

They felt good. His eyes had been burning from the heat and the smoke, and from his grief and sadness over the terrible business of fate.

What else but fate would have him driving all over the city, only to be found time and again by a defenseless girl travelling on foot. And not just found
—he had been saved by her. Three times he'd been saved, only to end up dying together. Fate was a cruel bastard.

If only she hadn't followed him. If only she had...what? Sat alone in her home, slowly starving to death? Would that have been her fate if not for Ram? And would it have been a kinder fate? Probably not. She looked completely malnourished and was so stick-thin that it was unsettling to feel her bones beneath her skin.

"It was the goose," Ram said to himself. It was most likely the smell of his cooking breakfast that had driven her out of her home. If so he regretted ever seeing the bird.

It had been sitting all by itself and hadn't stirred a feather when Ram slowed
his hummer to a crawl, stopping just beside it. The goose had only gazed blandly until he had pulled the trigger of his pistol. Then it had squawked once, turned a summersault and had just laid there, breathing until Ram whisked off its head with his hunting knife.

"It was the goose that killed you, wasn't it?" he asked Jillybean. She did not stir at the sound of his voice. Panicked he turned slightly and checked to see if she still breathed. He
r chest barely rose.

"All for a goose that wasn't even very good," he said.

In his opinion it had been a waste of perfectly good teriyaki sauce. Even with it, the meat had been oddly tangy. It reminded him of this one other time he'd eaten something with that same odd flavor...

"Holy shit!" he cried as his mind picked up a frail thread of memory: February 14th, 2009. It had been Valentine's
Day. He remembered the exact date because he had been seeing a girl for all of three weeks. Her name was...Julia? No, that was someone else.

"Jess," he said. Her face was blurry in his mind. She'd been tall with chestnut brown hair, but other than that he couldn't recall her. However he could recall being weird about that Valentine's
Day. She had hinted quite a bit about a deeper commitment and he recalled that he liked her but certainly didn't love her, not after three weeks. Which made Valentine’s Day an awkward time...

Ram suddenly shook his head to clear it. The memory was going down the wrong route. His feelings weren't important. It was the fact that he had taken her out to dinner to one of the most popular restaurants in L.A. There was a crush of people, a long, long wait, and then slip-shod service, followed up by an odd cut of beef that had an even odder tang to it.

That night and all the next day he'd been sick: nausea, diarrhea, a light fever, body-aches. It was just like now.

As his heart began to pound, he took stock of himself and suddenly he didn't feel like a man on the verge of becoming a zombie. Yes, the idea of food made him go queasy, and there were some dreadful sounds coming from low in bowels, but where was the fever? He hadn't felt hot until the fire had really
begun to bake the room. And where were the cognitive changes: the building delirium that manifested as a mania that bounced between tears and furious ravings?

Where were these symptoms in Jillybean?

Softly he touched her forehead—she was hot from the fire, but not fevered hot. With the gentleness of a father he turned her bare arms and inspected the minor wounds that covered her. They all looked more like rug-burns than lacerations from a zombie’s talons.

"What about mine?" he whispered. Delicately, he touched the scratches beneath his shirt, tracing their outlines. In the sewing room with them
, a tall mirror took up most of the wall directly across from him. All it took for him to confirm or deny his own mortality was for him to lean over slightly and lift his torso.

He hesitated. What if the scratches were cherry-red? What if the "poison" lines arced out from them like in most afflicted victims? What if they had already begun to stink and leak the grey-yellow pus? What if he was just fooling himself with this whole food poison nonsense? What if he was just grasping at straws?

A big breath came and went...then another before Ram worked up the courage to look at his own skin. The scratches were just that, scratches and the smell was that of musty rain water.

He stared for over a minute. "But...I was scratched," he told himself
, hardly believing what he was seeing. The he remembered Trey:
What if it doesn't take?

Was that possible? Did the virus sometimes fail to catch? Or was he just immune? This thought sent a bolt of excitement through him, but it fizzled when he remembered the rubbing alcohol. It was probably a combination of barely being scratched and the fact that he had been able to clean the wound so quickly.

Either way it hardly mattered. He had the symptoms of food poisoning, not of the zombie virus. And so did Jillybean!

"Hey? Jillybean? Wake up," he said giving her a gentle shaking.

She grunted out a: "Huh?" and then turned on her side, exposing a cheek, wet with little kid drool.

"Wake up Jillybean," he said, trying again.

Without opening her eyes, she answered, "I'm sleepy, Daddy."

Ram was only able to say, "I'm not your..." before choking on his words. Clearing his throat, he tried again. "It's me, Ram."

"What is it?" she asked, coming out of sleep quickly. "Is it monsters?"

"No,
it’s not monsters. I've got good news. Look at my scratches. They aren't infected!"

Jillybean didn't understand his enthusiasm. "What's that mean?"

"It means I'm not going to turn into a zombie!" Though he was all smiles, she did not share in his happiness. Instead she rolled over onto her side and addressed him with a single piercing blue eye.

"But you promised," she accused. "You said we would be monsters together."

Ram laughed. He couldn't help it. The feeling of life was so strong in him that he threw back his head and laughed so hard that the black smoke above them rolled up on itself. "You don't understand. You're not going to turn into a monster either. Look at your arms."

Dutifully she turned her arms this way and that. She even tried to see her elbows. "What am I
apposed to see?" she asked.

Again Ram couldn't help laughing. "Nothing! You have just normal scratches, probably from wandering down in those tunnels. If they were monster scratches they'd be all puffy and smelly."

"They would?" When he nodded, she tentatively gave her arms a small sniff, followed by a larger snuffle. "I don't smell anything."

"Exactly!" he cried.

She began to smile, showing even white teeth, but suddenly her features twerked and her eyes lost their focus. "I don't get it, Ipes. What does that mean?" she asked of her stuffed animal. Whatever he said wasn't good. Crestfallen, she looked back to Ram. "We're still going to die. Ipes says you are delusioning yourself. In your brain, he means."

Ram scoffed. "Well you tell Ipes that in this case he is..." He stopped in midsentence when he discovered he was addressing a stuffed animal. Clearing his throat he started again, this time making sure to look Jillybean in the face, "I'm not delusional. I was scratched like,
eleven hours ago. I've never heard of anyone going eleven hours without developing the fever."

She glanced to Ipes as if for rebuttal and the zebra did not disappoint. "You want me to say that?" she asked the stuffed animal. "Ok. Ipes says that
anec-doo-dal. Oh, sorry.
Anecdotal
evidence is not evidence at all. Sciencey speaking that is. That's what he says."

She looked to Ram, but he was too taken back by the string of unlikely words which had been uttered by the little girl. She suddenly seemed embarrassed as if she had done something wrong.

"My daddy said that once," she said as if, by his silence, she had to explain. "He was arguing with a man on TV. He said there was a difference between casual observation and...something else. I don't really amember it all and neither does Ipes."

"I suppose he was right, in a manner of speaking," Ram admitted. "But I'm not a casual observer. My evidence isn't anecdotal. I've see many, many people become zombies. Too many of them. I would even go so far as to call myself an expert on the subject, and it is my expert opinion that you aren't going to turn into a monster."

"But I'm sick, for reals," Jillybean insisted. "I don't feel good at all. I'm starting to feel like I have to throw up again."

"You have food poisoning," Ram told her. "Remember the meat I made this morning? We both ate it and we both got sick. The good news is, by tomorrow we'll both be better."

Now she unfurled a proper smile. "Ok, that is good. Ipes thinks you're smart. He said you weren't before but you're getting better, and that's good. I never wanted to be a monster anyway, you know? Amember those little kid monsters at the school? They were gross. Can you turn down the fire, please. It's awful really hot and it's making me sleepy."

The fire was taking care of itself. It had already consumed the Persian rug and was now working on reducing to ashes the pieces of table from the Chinese restaurant. Already the curtain of smoke had lifted, making it easier to see and breathe.

Settling her head back down onto his shoulder, he whispered, "Sleep is what you need, Jillybean. So close your eyes."