Zombies - Ignition

Ignition

Mel talked as he drove and I listened as well as I could over the growing pain in my leg. As overwhelming as everything was, it was nice to have somebody explain the situation to me for once, instead of having to figure it out for myself.

"They say the virus hit sometime last night," he said, eyes fixed straight ahead, voice devoid of emotion. I got the feeling he was relaying the information purely for my sake, so I sat in grateful silence and listened. "All of the important sources are saying it's a freak of nature and nobody is responsible for it." He turned to me. "Of course, those are all the media sources that have ties in the government. Our smaller, more independent and trustworthy people said it was man made until they got shut up." His expression hardened and he returned his attention to the road before he continued, "But that doesn't matter now. We gathered together as many people as we could--the ones that were...safe..." Here, he trailed off, unable to continue perhaps because of emotion. I wasn't sure.

Buildings passed by, looking oddly ethereal. Golden bars of light reached past them almost horizontally now, casting long shadows across our path and onto the city as the Humvee's shadows flitted across uneven terrain beside us. Mel paid the scattered bodies no attention, but I stared in horrified fascination at the various death poses, some lying in dark stains of their own blood. How many people were dead, I
wondered, but forced my thoughts elsewhere. Thinking too much would just break down the damn I was so carefully holding up.

"You look like you've had better days," he finally said wryly.

"Can't think of a worse one," I muttered. Then, after a moment of recollection, "I had a normal life just this afternoon. I was eating a pizza..."

He smiled, but it carried no mirth; only sadness. "We all did, Jimmy. Goddammit, we all did."

"You seem to have expected all this, though," I ventured and reiterated, "I mean, you seem prepared."

He barked a laugh. "Prepared? No. Everyone has that fight-or-flight instinct, though. My group is just one of those who chose to take a stand instead of run. The only real difference between people like us is the amount of time it takes to make the decision. We--" he paused to gesture at himself, "--just made that decision quicker than most." He glanced at my leg. "Though not all. How does it feel?"

"Like hell on fire," I grumbled.

The Humvee jostled almost painlessly over a curb and pulled to a stop in the middle of a square, empty but for the dead bodies strewn about one side. The rest of the pavement had already been cleared, the bodies piled several feet high in one corner. A group of men in orange construction vests worked with the remainder.

"We're claiming this part of the city," Mel explained. "Judging by your leg wound and a few radio transmissions, we're not the only group of survivors." His face darkened. "Seems not every one of us shares the same sentiment, though." He continued in a lighter tone. "But, those are only rumours. Nothing to propogate just yet."

I nodded, but my mind was begin to cloud over with pain.

Mel noticed. "I can send for someone to take you inside. I'll wait out here until my men come back with your friend, though. I'm still not confident of everyone's abilities around here."

"But she'll be safe, right?" Sue me, but we'd been through quite a lot together in the last few hours.

"She's in as good a group of hands as I can manage right now, I can assure you. Who knows? In a couple months, the rescue teams I send out could consist of these same men. I'm holding bets until I can see my cards is all."

I nodded. "I'll wait with you if that's alright."

He grinned. "That's what I hoped." He reached into his coat with a creak of leather and produced a paper bag. "Normally, I don't encourage drinking to ease pain, but given what's happened today, I think this is a damn good time for a stiff drink." The paper bag pulled away to reveal a bottle of whiskey. "Hope you're not a germ freak." The cork squeaked free of the bottle and he sloshed back a sizable amount, then offered me the bottle.

I took it with less enthusiasm. Not that drinking myself out of my own mind was unappealing; I just felt that the time wasn't right. Something was nagging at me. I turned to Mel. "Who was that in the car down there?"

He scanned the square. "Down where?"

"The hillside. The person Lynette was helping. Who was that?"

He shrugged carelessly. "Fucked if I know. Probably just another casualty. Why?"

Now it was my turn to shrug. "Not sure..." I tried to brush away the nagging, but returned to it a moment later. After all, had there been someone alive in that car, wouldn't they have freed themselves somehow? And if not, what about the undead? I had yet to see how quickly they responded to fresh meat, but it seemed like a long time to leave it untouched. "She'll be back soon, right?"

"Should be back already," he enthused. "Nothing to worry about. Have a drink."

What was he hiding from? I took a small swallow and let the drink burn down my throat, warming my stomach. "The sun's setting."

He took the bottle back from me. "Give it another fifteen minutes. If they're not back by then, we'll go looking."

I nodded uneasily. The pain in my thigh had plateaued now, though it still hurt like hell. Spots were starting to dance at the edge of my vision and my limbs felt weak.

"You okay?" Mel asked, voice twinged with concern. I nodded weakly, but nausea was starting to twist my gut into pretzel shapes. The bottle sloshed back into my view. "It'll help dull the pain at least." Now he was just pitying me.

I waved it away. "Frankly, Mel, now is not the time. But I think I need to get to a doctor. I must have lost more blood than I thought." I fumbled with the door handle. My fingertips felt kind of numb. Things were starting to get a little blurry and my movement was sluggish. "Shit..."

And then I lost all motor function and fell against the dashboard while my eyes closed of their own accord. Sleep swept over me gently and I let it carry me away.

A Fuse Ill Lit

I woke up under white sheets in a white room with a woman dressed in white bending over me. She wore a white mask. I felt no pain. On the contrary, I felt right as rain. I giggled.

"He's awake."

Another masked face appeared beside the first. I could tell this one was a man because he had no breasts and his eyes were more manly somehow. "Sure took him awhile," he muttered, gruff voice confirming my perception.

"Doc..." my voice came out slurred, which struck me as funny, and I continued amid stifled laughter, "some things just can't be rushed, like steak. If you're gonna cook a steak, you have to cook it right. And I, sir, am no steak." My composure dissolved into fits of laughter that only intensified when he glanced at the woman, rolled his eyes and muttered an irritated oath before vanishing from my sight.

"Shh," said the woman. "You need your rest. You lost a lot of blood."

"Blood," I deadpanned when I could compose myself. "It's in you to give."

She shook her head, but I could see the smile in her eyes. "Just lie back. I'll be back to check on you later." She left.

That left me all by mysel in a room I saw as I twisted to take in my surroundings. I didn't know where they had found a room so white, but it was no hospital room. I could tell by the lack of medical equipment. "They are ill equpiped," I informed myself morosely. "Well, better that than illy quipped." I snorted a laugh.

Somebody knocked on the door and stepped inside a second later. It was Lynette.

"Lynnie!" I cried. "It's so good to see you again!"

She stopped and glanced over her shoulder hesitantly. Then she seemed to draw herself up resignedly and approached my side. "They told me you passed out in the truck, waiting for me."

"Lying in wait."

"Yeah. Well, thank you. You really should have been here instead, you know."

"I was just in the right time at the right place, baby."

She rolled her eyes. "How high did they make you, Jimmy?!" But she was smiling. "They did manage to confirm that you are immune to the virus, for which we can be grateful, I guess. Apparently, open wounds are much more vulnerable than the lungs."

"Always wear a condom," I snickered.

She stood. "Well, with that, I have to go. Mel said he'd be by to see you later." And then she, too, was gone. I lay there in the quiet muttering to myself every now and then. Maybe being drugged up wasn't such a good thing. But then I thought about how it must seem to everyone else and I giggled again. It was worth it.