Infected (4 page)

“Where’s the bat?” Justin shouted in the semi-darkness, cursing loudly as his legs became entangled in someone else’s blanket.

“Outside, with the rest of the boxes!” Amy gasped, scrabbling to her feet. She winced as Walter’s vicious barks bounced off the walls; they were adding to the commotion amidst all the confusion.

A scream, then Marie shouted, “There is another one!”

Now there were
two
. Amy cast a fearful glance over her shoulder and saw another Runner pressing against the first one, scratching at the broken window from behind. The first Runner was almost inside.

Amy’s initial reaction had been to escape outside. But what if there was a horde passing through the grounds? Where had these Runners come from?

Apparently, Justin was of the same mind. He pushed Amy and Marie toward the grand staircase.

“Go and hide in the second floor! Take Walter with you, and shut that damn dog up!”

There was no time to argue; as soon as the two women were halfway up the stairs with Walter, the broken window gave way, and the two Runners crashed into the living room.

“Go,” Amy breathed. “Right now.”

“What about my husband and Justin?” Marie whispered, but Amy forcefully pushed her up.

“They have the bat and the fire poker. We don’t,” she answered fiercely, then pushed Marie again. In silence, they crept up the marble steps and felt along the walls of the dark hallway.

Earlier in the day, Amy had wandered through this same path to search for Patrick. The floor plan still fresh in her mind, she urged Marie forward until they reached the last room at the end. She remembered that it was a spacious bedroom, with a walk-in closet and a bathroom en suite that featured French doors leading to a balcony. If one of the Runners somehow followed them up here, Amy and Marie would have no choice but to step out into the balcony and hide on the roof.

Once they entered the bedroom, Amy firmly closed the door behind them. There was no lock except for a flimsy-looking door chain. It would have to do. She put that in place and ushered Marie and Walter toward the walk-in closet that led to the en suite. Before shutting themselves in, Amy fumbled around in the closet, looking for anything that remotely resembled a weapon.

She yanked out two loose closet rods and shuffled inside the en suite, slamming the door shut on the way. After handing a rod to Marie, she huddled beside her friend near the French doors, with Walter squashed between them. Marie dutifully calmed the dog down with soothing strokes, the other hand wrapped around his snout.

“Where did they come from?” Marie asked, and Amy stared at her, bewildered.

“I have no idea. It could be a horde passing by, or just a few stragglers that happened to stumble this way.” Now that Amy had the presence of mind to think straight, she realized something even more troublesome. “Oh, no,” she exhaled, casting a wide-eyed glance at Marie. “Patrick’s out there.”

The Korean woman shook her head in dismay. “This is not good.”

Amy peered through the French doors, hoping that Patrick was out there, blissfully unaware of what was happening inside the mansion. She hoped that the Runners had come from the road and not from the woods, where the older man was currently taking refuge.

A muffled growl issued from Walter’s snout, and the dog writhed in Marie’s arms.

Stiffening, Marie hugged the dog even closer to her chest. “Something is on the second floor,” she whispered.

Amy heard dull thudding noises against the doors. The sounds grew louder.

It’s coming down the hallway
.

One of the Runners had climbed up the stairs. Had it seen the women going up? Had it followed them up here?

Not knowing what else to do, Amy stood on shaky legs and held out the closet rod before her. The rod felt useless in her hands; it would be as effective as walloping the Runner over the head with a rubber chicken. The inappropriate image caused a half-cry, half-laugh to bubble from her throat, and she thought,
I’m losing it. I’ve officially gone off the deep end
.

“Please be quiet,” Marie pleaded from behind. Worry filled her voice; the poor woman probably thought that Amy was growing hysterical, which wasn’t entirely wrong.

Amy calmed down at once. “Sorry about that.” She paused, contemplating the dog in Marie’s arms. “I’ll need your help. Can you put Walter out on the balcony? And close the door, all right? The last thing we need is for him to get in our way.”

With a nod, Marie yanked at one of her long sleeves until it tore at the seams. She tied the piece of cloth firmly around Walter’s snout and put him outside.

“Stay quiet, Walter,” she commanded. “Quiet. Good boy.” And she closed the French doors before him. The dog whined, then jumped on his hind legs, placing his front paws on the glass for balance.

Something thudded against the bedroom door. A long pause, and then another thud.

Amy and Marie waited with bated breath.

Nothing else happened.

“I think it is gone,” Marie murmured. “Maybe it went down the stairs again.”

“You’re probably right. But let’s wait for a few more minutes before we –”

A massive tearing sound, like splintering wood, reached their ears. Seconds later, the door came crashing down, followed by a drawn-out snarl.

Walter began scratching at the glass in earnest, his barks muffled.

There was no way Amy and Marie could defend themselves with closet rods; they weren’t strong or sharp enough to pierce flesh, let alone a skull. Amy didn’t waste another second. She grabbed Marie by the upper arm and pulled her toward the balcony, opening and closing the glass doors as quietly as she could. Understanding immediately, the Korean woman scooped Walter into her arms and climbed onto the balustrade, but soon paused. She glanced down at Amy, a tremulous smile on her lips.

“The roof is too high.”

Amy climbed onto the opposite side of the balustrade, balancing herself by grabbing hold of the eave. “Just avoid the French doors and stay out of sight,” she whispered back. She wanted to say more, but the Runner had entered the walk-in closet, and was now slamming against the fragile en suite door. Frightened, Amy glanced downward as sounds of splintering wood once again filled the room behind her. If they jumped, would the impact break their legs? Or just sprain their ankles?

She froze in fear when she realized the Runner had pressed its face against the French doors. The pads of its fingers ran down the glass.
Squeeeeak
.

Could it see them? Were its eyes darting left and right, trying to catch a glimpse? Did it
know
they were out there?

To Amy’s left, Marie was struggling to hold on to Walter and keep them from falling off the ledge. Walter scrabbled on her shirt, a long, sad whine issuing from his clamped snout as he slowly slipped from her one-arm grip. In desperation, Marie let go of the eave and slid down into a kneeling position to cradle Walter on her lap.

The Runner must have seen her knees jutting into its periphery, because it snarled through the thin gap between the two doors.

Amy closed her eyes, readying herself for the worst.

The doors banged open and the Runner rushed onto the balcony. Startled, Walter writhed in Marie’s arms, causing the Korean woman to lose her tentative balance on the balustrade. Her mouth stretched into a silent ‘O’ as she teetered off the ledge and toppled to the ground, Walter close behind. Pained, muffled yelps reached Amy’s ears, along with soft groans.

The Runner hissed, about to jump off the balcony, when shouts and thudding footsteps came from inside the en suite. As the Runner turned around, a fire poker flew past the open French doors and pierced the Runner through the head, right between the eyes. Death came instantly. The dead Runner slumped to the floor, the fire poker firmly imbedded through its skull.

Justin rushed forward into the balcony with his bloodied bat, his hair a disheveled mess.

“Who threw that?” Amy breathed.

He hurried over and helped her down. “Daniel,” he answered. “He went back to check on Marie. We should too, by the way.”

“Of course.”

They made their way down the staircase, mindful of the steps in the dark. As they stepped outside, they saw Daniel tending to his wife, who was sitting up. Her face grimaced in pain when he pressed down lightly on her ankle. Luckily, it didn’t seem broken, but it was swelling up pretty fast.

“Stop,” she panted, pushing her husband’s hand away. “You are hurting me.”

Beside her, Walter whined and moved a little closer.

“What about the mutt?” Amy asked. “Is he okay?”

Marie smiled, then stiffened when her husband started poking at her ankle again. “Stop that,” she snapped, then turned to Amy. “Yes, Walter is okay. He bounced on me, and then fell on the ground. He will be all right.”

“But you are not!” Daniel said angrily. He leaned down, picked up his wife, and carried her into the mansion, muttering under his breath. Immediately, Walter trailed behind them. Exchanging a glance, Justin and Amy did the same, but at a respectable distance – the Korean couple were arguing in their native tongue again.

Once inside, the group settled near the foyer, away from the broken window and scattered glass. Amy quickly sat down and tucked her legs beneath her. Now that they were safe, she was burning with questions.

“Where did the Runners come from? Did a horde just go past us?”

Justin shook his head. “No, it wasn’t a horde. It was a couple of stragglers that just happened to be nearby.”

“I don’t get it,” Amy pressed on. “We haven’t seen any Runners here since we arrived.
So where did they come from
?”

After bandaging his wife’s ankle, Daniel lifted his head and glanced at Justin, his brows knotted. “I think they came from the highway, after we returned from the test run in the morning. Maybe they wandered on the road and finally reached us at night.” His eyes lowered, as if in guilt. “Also, I think the screams and the fight in the woods brought them in our direction.”

That made sense to Amy. It also meant that more Runners could start wandering this way, if they hadn’t begun to do so already. Green Hill Clinic was no longer safe.

“We leave tomorrow morning, just like we planned,” Amy said to Justin. “And” – here, she darted a quick look at Marie – “we bring Patrick along with us. There’s no way we can leave him at the clinic now.”

A long stretch of silence filled the semi-darkness. Finally, Marie nodded in agreement.

“You are right, Amy. All of us must survive first. Later, when we are at the farm, we can talk about Patrick again.”

Relieved, Amy turned to address Daniel. “Are you okay with that decision?”

The Korean man didn’t look happy, but he gave a curt nod in reply.

Justin rose to his feet. “In that case, we’d better go and check on Patrick. He should spend the rest of the night here with us.”

“I’ll come with you.” Amy joined him at the foyer, picking up a couple of flashlights on the way. She heard a snuffling noise at her feet, and looked down to find Walter waiting impatiently at the door.

“Stay here, boy,” Justin commanded. “I don’t want you wandering around the grounds at night.”

“Maybe he has to pee,” Amy said.

“Then let him pee on the bathroom floor,” he answered. “Everyone stays inside. No exceptions.”

They stepped outside, and Amy nudged the stubborn pooch back into the foyer with her foot before closing the door.

Quietly, they made their way toward the woods, on the lookout for any signs of movement. The woods were pitch-black, the silhouetted trees tall and menacing. Amy shivered and huddled closer to Justin as he turned his flashlight on.

“You think he’s okay?” she asked.

“Why wouldn’t he be?”

“Gee, I don’t know . . . maybe because we just had a couple of Runners roaming these very grounds?”

“The Runners came up the road from the highway,” he said, frowning down at her. “They didn’t even venture into the woods.”

“That’s the theory, anyway.”

Justin came to a standstill. “Okay, what’s going on? Why are you being so short with me?”

“I’m not.” But she was. To be honest, it was the accumulation of everything – her close encounter with the Runner on the balcony, her blurry recollection of something waking her at night besides the nightmare, and to top it all off, Justin’s insistence that their breakup had solely been her doing. She hated that a small part of herself agreed with this assessment.

Inadvertently influenced by her stepfather’s constant snide remarks, she’d come to believe that Justin truly was out of her league – that one day, he would dump her when someone better came along. To avoid getting hurt, she had halfheartedly suggested a break. And to add salt to her wounds, he had offered friendship on the spot.

Maybe Justin was right; her hang-up had ruined a perfectly good relationship. But it was too late for regrets now.

Amy tried to smile. “I’m not,” she repeated. “Really. Sorry, Justin . . . I guess I’m still a bit rattled about everything that’s happened.”