I love you.
She says out loud: “It’s like an oven in here today and I have to pee.”
Toby grunts. “I’ll turn up the air conditioning.”
She laughs. “Now there’s an idea. We spent over a million bucks on each of these things, and nobody thought it might be a good idea to put in some air conditioning? Come on, guy.”
They are in high spirits after the supply drop. They now have a tuned-up engine, full tank of diesel with a good amount of spare fuel, functioning weapons systems and enough ammunition to obliterate anything in their path.
Toby produces a protective mask provided for crew use in the event of a nuclear, biological or chemical attack. A plastic hose dangles from its filter.
“Observe,” he tells her. “This hose connects the mask to an air purifier that has a fan.”
“I’m not peeing into that tube.”
Toby grins. “I have a better idea.”
He removes the hose from the mask and tucks a length of it down the front of her shirt.
“Oh my,” she says.
“Now check this out.”
The commander flips a switch, forcing air across her chest, drying the sweat pooled between her breasts.
“Now we’re talking,” she says. “Welcome to civilization.”
Steve chimes in over the radio: Did you show her the hillbilly AC, Sarge?
Toby laughs. “You’re in the Army now, Wendy. In the Army, we make do, right Steve?”
“That’s all well and good, you guys,” she says, “but I still have to pee.”
♦
An hour later, the amored vehicle idles in front of a red brick school building. The clerestory windows installed along the roofline of the gym, dirty and glinting in the sun, are spray painted with giant, bleeding red capitals: PLEASE HELP US. Toby studies it on his optical relay, rubbing his stubbled chin and scowling. Wendy knows he does not like the risk, but this is the mission; they separated from the convoy this morning to strike northwest, back toward Camp Defiance, and search for survivors. She closes her eyes and listens to the beating heart of the engine, which sends tiny vibrations tingling along the surface of her skin.
“I guess we’d better check it out,” Toby says.
“I’ll go too,” Wendy tells him, pulling off her headset.
“I guess we’re all going, then.”
They agreed they would stay together no matter what. It is an incredible thing to realize another human cannot live without you. She never felt that way before. Understanding it as she does now, Wendy wonders how so many people survived the first days of the epidemic. The disease took the ones you loved, and then put on their face, demanding you kill them or die yourself. You have seconds to make this decision.: How would you choose?
The threat of this choice is neverending. It can be forced on you at any time. It is the plague’s greatest weapon.
They follow the squad out the back of the Bradley and fan out. After a few minutes of squatting in the heat, Wendy realizes they are looking at her.
“It’s your show,” she tells them, shaking her head. “I’m just tagging along.”
She remembers driving in the back of the Bradley during the first days of the epidemic with Paul, Ethan, Todd and Anne, warring with Anne for leadership of the gang. She was a police officer, and felt it was her responsibility to take care of the others.
Later, marching down a desolate highway in a blizzard of ash falling from the fires of Pittsburgh, she realized she was not a cop anymore. Her precinct was gone, and so was her city with its courts and jails and laws. She had no responsibility to anyone except a detective named Dave Carver, the man who saved her life when the Infected overran her precinct, and that responsibility did not require her to help others, only survive.
Charlie Noel nods and whistles at his shooters, who stand as one and follow, rifles leveled. They look and act like professional warriors, but just a few months ago, Charlie was a traffic cop, Stu Guthrie a bartender, Sharon Yang a paramedic and Ana Cruz an architect. Infection has gone on for so long it is the past that now seems like a dream, not the nightmarish present.
They briefly inspect a pile of bodies rotting away in the hot sun in front of one of the gym doors, partly open and covered in scratch marks and blood splatter. The stench is powerful. They raise handkerchiefs, soaked with cologne, to cover the bottoms of their faces.
“Where are you going?” Toby asks her.
Wendy squats by some nearby shrubs and urinates.
“Told you I had to go,” she grins.
On the road, privacy is a dangerous luxury. If you want to be alone, you will eventually die alone.
Stepping over the bodies, Noel shoves at the door. “There’s something blocking it.” He shoves again and a pile of furniture, stacked behind the door to block it, comes crashing down.
Steve sighs and blows air from his cheeks.
“Let’s do this quick,” Wendy says, gnawing her gum.
“More bodies here,” Noel says, disappearing inside. “Watch your step.”
Wendy follows the others into the gym, ignoring the corpses’ splayed hands brushing against her legs, and gasps at the assault of heat and smell. Their boots send empty shell casings clattering across the floor.
The flashlights converge on the bodies of four men and women, three dressed in casual clothes and one in a police uniform. All shot in the head and partially eaten. Wendy stoops and collects the cop’s badge, pocketing it. Her eleventh, counting her own.
Noel signals his shooters to fan out and clear the room. They call from the dark corners: All clear. No Infected here.
Wendy approaches the other side of the gym, followed by Toby and Steve. The play of their flashlights reveals more giant red bleeding capitals painted on the walclass="underline"
GOD FORGIVE US WE TRIED TO SAVE THEM
At the base of the wall, twenty small children lie in a row, all dead from gunshot wounds.
♦
From what Wendy can see, the children were lined up facing the wall and executed. Sickened by the sight, they turn off their flashlights and stand in the dark.
“Jesus,” Noel says, catching up. “Who would do such a thing to them?”
“They did it to themselves,” Toby answers.
“You mean the cop? But why?”
“They were under siege,” Wendy murmurs. “During the first day of the epidemic. Some of the schools had just reopened after the Screaming, remember? They barricaded themselves in with these kids.”
“The Infected found out they were in here and started to force their way through the outside door,” Steve chimes in. “There must have been a lot of them. Too many to keep out. Too many to fight. The Infected must have been in the school too. These people were trapped.”
“The cop held them off until it seemed hopeless, then he shot the kids so they wouldn’t be eaten, while the teachers held the doors closed,” Toby says. “It was a mercy killing.”
“Probably made a game of it,” Wendy adds. “Turn around and close your eyes and don’t open them no matter how loud the pistol shot next to you.”
“And then he killed the teachers and himself,” Toby finishes. “Right at the door so the Infected would eat them and spare the children from even that.”
“It’s horrible,” Wendy says.
“I don’t want the others to see this,” Noel says, his voice cracking.
“Everyone out,” Toby calls across the gym. “Back to the rig. Come on, let’s go.”