“Slowly,” Haley whispered, trying to push Juli behind her back. Juli resisted, planting her legs right where she was, next to her mother, facing the door and the stinking man who was standing there, groping the air, his head swiveling from side to side like a hinge that’d gotten unhinged. Which was pretty much what had happened, what happened to all of them. And then they died of starvation and lack of water.
“I know, Mom,” the girl said, her eyes fixed on the sad creature at the door who’d just taken another tentative step toward them. They both stepped back into the aisle—the very short aisle, it now seemed to Haley. They had no weapons. They were both in T-shirts, which was bad. But they wore long pants, which was good. And they couldn’t just outwait the sick one or run. Haley was sure they would find more food in here, food they needed because they might have to run from that house with the smoke coming out of its chimney. There could be bad people there. Or dead people. Besides, Haley had seen—or imagined she’d seen—a few cans left standing in the soft drinks fridge and she wanted them. They needed them.
The sick one advanced, now moaning more loudly, his feet trampling what could be food, and Haley felt a sudden hot wave rise to her face. Anything he touched they couldn’t use. And he couldn’t eat it, not even with help. She knew that because she’d seen people try to feed their sick ones. They couldn’t chew or swallow, even if they were fed forcefully. The food and the water just didn’t go beyond their mouths. This she’d heard from a doctor previously employed by one of the biggest hospitals in the Midwest, now on the run like the rest of them. “They can’t live,” she’d said. “But they don’t die quickly enough.”
That doctor, Miriam, as she’d introduced herself to Haley and Jim, had, as far as Haley was concerned, saved their girl’s life six months ago by sewing up a wound Juli had gotten on her knee trying to run away from a sick one. That was back at home, in Iowa, when they were hanging on to their last hope that the disease could be contained. Three stitches were what Miriam administered, plus a helping of antibiotic powder. That was all she could spare and Haley was endlessly grateful for it. Miriam was now dead, touched by a seemingly recovering patient who said she had the flu before she collapsed on the floor of the shelter—a former high school—and made it clear to everyone that their hopes were doomed. They were all certain the shelter was safe until Constance collapsed on the floor of what had been the chemistry lab in happier times.
“We’ll go round the aisle,” Haley said. “See if there’s anything that looks edible or drinkable. We’re not coming back.”
“But we can try and trip it or something,” Juli said.
“No,” Haley said. She had no intention of letting Juli near the creature or approaching it herself. That was too much risk. One swipe with a hand, that’s all it took for one of them—or both—to become like him or, if they were lucky, die within a week.
“I can trip him, Mom,” Juli insisted. “I can tackle him to the ground.”
“No!” Haley said, no longer caring who heard them. There was nobody here, after all, besides the sick one and the corpse. One done corpse, one on the way. And two potential corpses. “You’re not going anywhere near it. And don’t you dare say ‘But.’”
She didn’t turn to look at her daughter as she said this but she felt the girl’s hand tense in hers for a second before relaxing. Juli knew the risks. She was just being defiant. Or hopeful, maybe. Haley, however, was taking no chances. They’d scope the place, take what they found, and they would then beat it as quickly as possible. It stank here, anyway. She continued walking backward, her eyes fixed on the thing that was now much closer to them, while Juli turned around and started rummaging through the shelves.
“Give me a bag,” she said. “There’s some candy bars here.”
Haley risked a glance away from the staggering creature and saw her daughter pick up a Starburst stick. The colors on the wrapper were so bright they blinded her for a second. How the candy had survived she couldn’t imagine, but it had.
“Yes!” Juli said and waved her hand, full of candy. Two Mars bars. One Twix. Too much chocolate, Haley would have said just a year ago. Now they were food, as good as any other. She took out a plastic sandwich bag from the back pocket of her pants without taking her eyes off the creature advancing on them and passed it to Juli. The sick one was standing five feet away now, in the pile of garbage, his head swiveling left and right, his right foot raised for the next step, arms groping the air in front of him. Then his head swung to the left and he froze.
“Mom, I think there are some more cookies here!” Juli whispered. She was excited. She was hungry. And she hadn’t finished her box of squashed cookies.
“Good,” Haley said, not really hearing her. She’d never seen any of the sick ones freeze like this. They always seemed to be moving, groping, shuffling, seeking the life they no longer had, it seemed to Haley. And she was not giving it to them. Or to him, this stinky former bull of a man who was now hunched down, skin hanging off the bones, greasy blond hair hanging down his filthy face, and huge hands flailing around, groping for them, for her and Juli.
Now the filthy face was turned halfway to the counter where the flies buzzed all businesslike, or rather business-as-usual-like. They didn’t care about the sick ones, Haley thought wistfully for a second before focusing again on the weird thing that was happening to the sick one. His arms had seized flailing and had fallen slowly to the sides of his wasted body. His back had straightened. He looked like a man ready to fight. A man who’d sensed danger. Which was impossible, Haley told herself, because they could not sense anything, except for the living humans. They could only waste away. She turned to Juli to tell her there was something wrong with the sick one, when her uterus dumped what felt like a pound of blood and endometrial matter into her panties. With the load came pain, dull but strong, rendering her temporarily incapable of anything more than doubling down and pressing her hand to her belly.
“Mom?” Juli piped, her voice leaving no doubt that Haley looked really bad. And she felt bad, as if all her energy had drained out to pool in the center of the shirt sleeve she was using as a sanitary napkin. It weighed her down. It weighed her down so much Haley felt her knees buckle and sagged down to the floor. Black fog started seeping into her peripheral vision, advancing to the center. Sounds started fading, replaced by a shrill ringing in her ears. Haley gathered the last remnants of energy she had and bit on her tongue, as hard as she could. The fog cleared almost instantly and sounds returned. She heard Juli calling her, pulling on her arm, and then she heard something else. The sick one. The sick one whined like a dog that’d been kicked viciously. Her head snapped up and she saw the man make an about turn and walk out of the store.
“Mom! Mom!”
“I’m fine, Juli,” Haley said. Her voice was steadier than she expected but that was probably the stress—too much of it and you start sounding calm and apathetic.
“What happened?” the girl asked, staring intently into her mother’s eyes, now a very pale blue, disturbingly pale.
“Just a cramp,” Haley said, glancing at the open door of the store. “What happened to him?”
Juli shrugged.
“He stood like a statue for a while and then just left. Lucky us. Can you walk?”
“In a while,” Haley said, closing her eyes for a moment. Her tongue hurt but thankfully she hadn’t bitten into it too hard to worry about an infection. “And we better hurry. Something scared the sick one and I don’t know what it was.”