Pathogen - Epilogue

When he struck the water, Scruffy sank like a stone. Pain flared this his leg, but was almost immediately overcome by the icy chill of the water. Scruffy tried to yelp, but his mouth filled with seawater. Down and down, he sank, tossed about by the violent currents.

Around him, Dead Things were crashing into the water. Their outstretched arms and gnashing teeth frightened Scruffy terribly, and he kicked and struggled to swim despite the pain it caused him. His lungs were burning by the time he breached the surface.

Taking deep breaths and snuffling the water around him, Scruffy looked around for the shore. The waves crashed all around him, rocking him in the tempestuous sea. The water washed over him, pushing him underwater again. His Instincts told him to just keep swimming. No matter what direction he picked, he’d do better than if he just held his ground.

Like all Labradors, Scruffy was at home in the water and was adept at the doggy paddle. Instinct prevailed, and he broke through the surface of the icy water. Letting the waves rock and push him as they will, Scruffy kept on swimming.

His leg pained in greatly. The same one that he hurt when he fell out of Vernon and again when he jumped from the roof of the house on the island, Scruffy had injured it further when he fell into the water. Still, the leg worked despite the pain, and a combination of adrenaline and hypothermic chill took his mind from it.

Slowly but surely, Scruffy was faltering. Just a few minutes in the deathly cold water and exposure would kill him. That is, if he didn’t drown first. Scruffy struggled to stay afloat, but his head bobbed beneath the surface again.

Still kicking and struggling to survive, Scruffy was surprised when his paws touched bottom. Looking up, he could see the surface was just above him. His lungs screamed for air, and he kicked against the sea floor. Again he surfaced, but this time he saw he was very near the beach.

With a tremendous effort, Scruffy swam towards the shore. Soon, he was no longer swimming but walking instead. On trembling legs he tottered out of the water and flopped down on the beach to rest.

A few moments passed with the sound of crashing waves and screaming wind for company. The fog had lifted somewhat, and Scruffy could see Breakwater Point not terribly far away. The lighthouse was clearly visible, towering over everything it surveyed.

Overhead, an unfamiliar noise startled Scruffy. A terrifying machine like nothing he’d ever seen flew overhead. The helicopter was a loud contraption that disturbed Scruffy, with spinning blades and blinding spotlights. Fortunately, it paid him no heed and flew straight for Breakwater Point.
The searchlights lit up the lighthouse, contrary to the structure’s intended purpose. It was difficult to make out from this distance, but Scruffy thought he could see a Man standing on top of the lighthouse. A distant boom echoed from the helicopter, and the lone figure on top of the lighthouse fell into the ocean. Veering aside, the helicopter flew off.

It wasn’t long before Scruffy caught his breath. He wanted nothing more than to find some place warm to sleep for the night, but Instinct told him he had to keep moving. The Carrion were still out there.

On shaking paws he walked down the length of the beach. The shore was stoney and uncomfortable to trod upon, but the breaking surf nearby soothed him somewhat. After limping half a kilometre down the beach, the stoney shore gave way to a somewhat sandy beach.

Scruffy saw something in the sand that gave him pause. Inching closer, he crawled over to investigate. On the beach was a familiar looking dog’s leash. A quick sniff confirmed what he knew to be true already: it was his leash! Scruffy spotted tracks in the sand nearby, Man tracks. Sniffing at them, Scruffy was disappointed to smell Carrion. Yet, some other odour caught his attention. Leaning in further, pressing his nose practically against the sandy foot prints, Scruffy tried his best to pinpoint the familiar smell. Suddenly it dawned on him: it was Master!

Tail wagging, Scruffy was excited to have found his Master’s scent again. The Carrion smell gave him pause, however. Why did Master and Carrion smells mingle together? The only possible explanation was that Master had come by this way, and Carrion had followed him.

Shivering from the cold, Scruffy knew he didn’t want Master to become one of the Dead Things. Picking up his leash in his teeth, he set off in the heading of the tracks. Limping and shaking, he loyally followed his Master’s spoor back into the heart of the city. Nothing would keep them apart, not even the Carrion.

Pathogen - Chapter 24

The rain had picked up, and the wind was howling as Aaron stood on the roof of the abandoned house. Looking about, Aaron could see zombies still marching up the beach, although for the most part they were still headed for the house. Perhaps they didn’t see him yet.

Behind him, a zombie lunged through the window. Aaron yelped as he stepped to the side and out of reach. The rooftop was treacherous, and he soon lost his footing. Tumbling backwards, he soon found himself falling through open air. A short distance later he was lying on his back in the wet grass with the wind knocked out of him.

Struggling to catch his breath, Aaron stumbled to his feet. He was sore all over, and could hardly breathe, but nothing was broken as far as he could tell. Looking over at the zombies, however, he realised they had caught sight of him and were lurching towards him now.

“Well, fuck,” Aaron declared as he gasped for breath still.

Above him Scruffy whined. Aaron looked up to see zombies pouring out the window towards the dog. Turning tail, Scruffy fled away from them and jumped off the roof. The dog yelped as it landed, but resolutely limped away. Turning to face the zombies approaching, Scruffy fled away from them and ran past Aaron.

Aaron looked over towards the cliff they had scaled to get to Breakwater Point. If he climbed down with the rope ladder, he could escape the zombies of the island and flee to the mainland. Cursing under his ragged breath, Aaron realised that would just put him in the hands of more zombies.

A zombie approached the edge of the roof and lurched over the side, apparently having no regard for the fall. It fell a few feet away from Aaron, who realised that the pursuing zombies would give him problems as he climbed down the cliff anyway. More zombies were falling off the roof now, and the ones approaching from the gentler slope were getting closer.

Raising the rifle, Aaron took aim at the closest zombie and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. Taking a step back, Aaron couldn’t help laughing hysterically at the absurdity of what had just happened. He simply had the worst luck with guns, there was no denying it. However, he soon realised his problem when he pulled back the bolt and the casing for the bullet he’d fired earlier fell out.

Looking up, Aaron realised there were far more zombies than he could handle with what was left in the gun. Casting his gaze about, he saw the lighthouse towering over him. It wasn’t far, and there weren’t any zombies between him and it. Still not having recovered his wind yet, Aaron staggered away as fast as his aching lungs would allow him to.

As he was climbing up the steps to the door of the lighthouse, Aaron realised he was leaving the dog behind. “Scruffy!” he shouted and looked about for signs of the dog.

Hearing the dog bark, Aaron looked for the source of the sound. A mob of zombies had clustered around a point on the edge of the cliff. He wasn’t sure if the dog was there until he heard Scruffy yelp. The dog tumbled over the side, presumably to the water below. A handful of zombies staggered after him and fell over the side as well.

“Fuck,” Aaron cursed before turning to the matter at hand.

The zombies were closing on him, and the door to the lighthouse was shut. Saying a silent prayer to anyone who’d listen, Aaron tried the door. Mercifully, he found it unlocked. Unfortunately, on closer inspection, he noted that somebody had kicked the door open previously, and that it would not shut.

The zombies were hot on his heels, so Aaron staggered into the lighthouse. A winding staircase ran up to the next level, and this he climbed. The wooden planks serving as stairs had seen better days and were rotten by neglect and the sea air. Aaron gingerly stepped around broken steps and hoped he wouldn’t fall through. Behind him, the zombies were following up the steps, so Aaron picked up the pace.

Just as he arrived at the next level of the lighthouse, Aaron heard a loud snap. Whirling around, he saw a zombie had stepped on a rotten stair and had fallen through. She had been wedged in by her shoulders with her arms pinned to the side, no doubt comically thrashing about to get free. Her fellow zombies lurched around and over her in their pursuit of Aaron.

Looking about, Aaron tried to find something, anything, that he could use. There were two desks in this room, one covered in old papers and another with an ancient radio on it. Aaron dashed over to the first desk and flipped it over. Papers flew and daintily glided to the floor. Heaving, Aaron pulled the desk away from the wall and pushed it in front of the stairs. Panting, he realised the gambit would only buy him a few moments at best.

There was a wooden chair by the desk, and Aaron laid down the rifle next to the radio to pick it up. Like the stairs, the chair had practically rotted through. Still, it would serve his purpose. Behind him, the zombies were pushing against the desk and would be through in a just a few seconds.  Hefting the chair, Aaron dashed over and swung it at the nearest zombie. The chair exploded in a burst of splintered wood. Staggering backwards, the lead zombie stumbled and fell, bowling over the other zombies behind it.

After pushing the desk back in place, Aaron returned to the radio. Connected to the radio was a car battery, which the previous owner must have used to keep it running after the government decommissioned the lighthouse and cut the power. Flicking the radio own, Aaron was pleasantly surprised to find it in working order. Remembering the military broadcast’s instructions, Aaron fiddled with knobs and twisted dials until he was sure he was on the right frequency.

“Hello?” he queried as he leaned into the microphone, “Can anybody hear me?”

“Who is this?” an authoritative man’s voice barked back, “Identify yourself immediately!”

Aaron began to introduce himself, “My name is Aaron-”

“Are you a civilian?” the voice demanded.

“Well, yes, but-”

“Then get off this channel!” the voice thundered back. “This frequency is reserved for military operations!”

“Please, the radio said to call you,” Aaron pleaded. “The zombies are all over. I need help!”

“You and everyone else in Fog City,” the voice scoffed.

“I’m not in Fog City!” Aaron screamed. Over his shoulder he could hear the zombies snarling. They were getting closer.

The voice on the other end paused a moment. “The quarantine has been breached?” he asked gravely, “Where are you now?”

“I’m in the lighthouse at Breakwater Point,” Aaron explained and took a quick glance at the zombies which had returned to his attempted barricade. “It’s a small island, just off the coast.”

“I know where it is, dirtbag,” the voice admonished. “I’m dispatching a helo. Sit tight, you better be there when it arrives, civilian.” The officer spat the word ‘civilian’ as if it were somehow contemptuous.

“They’re here!” Aaron shouted, “I have to go!”

Without waiting for a response, Aaron snatched up the rifle. The zombies had pushed through the barricade and were advancing steadfastly towards him. Turning tail, he fled up another flight of stairs. These ones were in better condition, or at least Aaron was more desperate, and he didn’t notice anymore rot.

At the top of the stairs, Aaron found himself in the room where the light was once operated. He couldn’t find anything useful, and cast about for some means of escape. There was a door leading to a walkway around the lighthouse, and Aaron fled through it. Peering over the edge, Aaron could see far more zombies than he cared to count.

Looking up, Aaron saw the lip of the roof above him. If he stepped on the railing around the walkway, he could just reach it. Looking back down at the fall below him, Aaron realised that a single misstep would probably mean his death. With a gulp, he began to understand why so many people had a fear of heights.

Holding the rifle in one hand and with a firm grip on the railing in his other, Aaron stepped over the edge. He looked over the edge once more and then at the zombies climbing the stairs. Taking a deep breath, Aaron planted his feet on the railing, one after another, and reached up for the edge of the roof. It was at this point, so precariously perched, that the wind chose to cut through him at full force.

Thrown off kilter by the wind, Aaron stumbled and fell. For a terrifying quarter of a second, his life flashed before his eyes while he screamed. Miraculously, he caught the railing by his outstretched arms and dropped the rifle in favour of salvation. The momentum of his fall carried him into the side of the lighthouse, where once more he had the wind knocked out of him.

Looking below, Aaron saw the rifle tumble end over end to the ground. When it struck, a gunshot echoed up to him as the muzzle flashed. A nearby zombie’s head exploded. What he just witnessed was unbelievable to him. He had the worst luck with guns up to this point, and then a one in a million thing just happened which wouldn’t do him a damn bit of good.

Hand over hand Aaron pulled himself up the railing just in time to see the zombies lurching out to the walkway. Without time to catch his breath, he pulled himself up the railing again. Without wasting a moment to balance or reach, Aaron leapt freely to the edge of the roof.

For a terrifying moment, Aaron thought he wouldn’t make it, that he’d just fall again, but this time to his death. His relief was palpable when his fingers closed around the edge of the roof. Hoisting himself up, Aaron clambered over the edge of the roof and out of reach of the zombies. However, before he could pull his legs free, a zombie lunged over the side and grabbed at his foot.

The railing burst outwards as so many zombies surged against the one that had a hold of Aaron. Together they tumbled over the side and to the ground below. The zombie with a grip on Aaron’s foot swung out into empty space, and suddenly Aaron felt it’s full weight pulling down on him. For a moment he lost his grip and slid back down the roof before regaining his grip on the edge.

Aaron looked down at the zombie holding his shoe. It didn’t seem to be able to pull itself up to bite him, but still it threatened to pull him over the edge. Striking out with his free foot, Aaron kicked at the hands holding onto him. Again and again, he lashed out at the zombie’s hands. If it could feel the kicking at all, it didn’t seem to mind. Aaron kicked wildly and savagely, this time at its arms. The force of the kick threatened to unbalance Aaron, but he was pleased to see it had caused the zombie to lose its grip with one arm.

With another desperate kick, Aaron struck the zombie in the second arm, the one holding him back. With a satisfying snap, the arm broke with the bone piercing the skin. Aaron locked eyes with the zombie, and the two snarled at each other. With a wet, tearing noise, the rotting flesh of the zombies arm began to unravel under its weight. Finally, the flesh could bear the strain no longer, and the zombie fell freely to the ground below.

Pulling himself free before another zombie could reach out to grab him, Aaron climbed to the safety of the roof. It was sharply slanted, but there was a peak in the middle that he could hold onto. Crawling up the steep incline, Aaron reached out and seized a firm grip on the handhold.

Breathing a sigh of relief, Aaron looked down. He screamed in terror when he saw another zombie clutching at his foot. A moment passed, and he sheepishly realised that it was the arm of the zombie that had almost pulled him off the roof. Even no longer attached to the body, it had struggled to let go.

Kicking his foot, he loosed the hand’s grip on his foot and sent it tumbling over the side. Aaron looked out over the water. The rain lashed at him, and the waves crashed against the island. With a laugh that bordered on the hysterical, he realised he’d made it. He was alone now, but help was on the way. Although, given his luck thus far, the helicopter would probably crash in the storm.




Abruptly Aaron stopped laughing and wondered why he’d thought of that. Shaking his head, he accepted that he was safe now. At least, as safe as someone could be with no escape and surrounded by zombies.

Pathogen - Chapter 23

Jumping back in fright, Cliff slammed the door closed. With the doorknob no longer present, however, the door couldn’t latch. It creaked slightly ajar.

Cliff shouted in frustration and fear, “Shit!”

“Hey, calm down,” Aaron soothed, “We talked about this, but if you really have to go you can take it outside.”

“There’s zombies out there,” Cliff informed Aaron, “And they’re on their way here.”

“Shit,” Aaron agreed. “We’ve got to get Grace and the other girl and get out of here.”

“There’s no time,” Cliff explained, “They’re too close, we’d never make it down the cliff. We have to barricade the door before they get here.”

Together they ran into the kitchen to find something to use to block the door. Aaron recalled seeing a movie where the survivors ripped the doors off the cupboards and nailed them across the doors and windows. While he was wondering about where he might find a hammer and nails, Cliff flipped over the kitchen table. The beer can castle, while once perhaps a veritable bastion of sanctuary, toppled and fell to the floor.

“Hey,” Aaron whined, “I liked that thing.”

“No time,” Cliff explained as he dragged the table out of the kitchen, “Help me with this here.”

The table was heavy, but together the boys shoved it into the living room. Through the crack in the door they could see a zombie meandering up the steps. Putting on a burst of speed, they slammed the door shut and held the table fast against the wall. They arrived a split second before the zombie. Together they held the door shut as the zombie pressed against it from outside.

“I don’t think this table is going to do the trick,” Aaron grunted as he pushed against the door.

Outside, the zombie was getting riled up and started pounding on the door. The table shook as the two boys held it fast against the assault.

“Hold it here,” Cliff ordered as he dashed away.

“You’re just going to leave me here?” Aaron asked with a note of panic in his voice.

Cliff crossed the living room in a moment and grabbed the couch. Grunting with his exertions, he pulled it free from the wall. After running around to the other side, he pushed it towards the door.

“Get back,” Cliff commanded as Aaron stepped away from the table.

Together they pushed the door in front of the table before the door could be pushed open. The pounding continued, and the door rattled in the frame. So far, however, the barricade was keeping them safe.

“Think it’ll hold?” Aaron asked.

Before he could get an answer, Grace screamed from the bedroom above them.

“It’ll have to do,” Cliff hoped as he crossed the living room to grab the shotgun.

Running up the stairs, the boys hoped they weren’t too late. Scruffy stayed downstairs, barking up a storm at the zombies. With a whimper, he retreated into the kitchen.

Arriving first, Aaron reached out to the bedroom door and yanked it open. They arrived just in time to see Grace, pinned beneath a zombified Rita, get bit by her attacker. A scream and a spray of blood punctuated her sentence of doom.

“No!” Aaron shouted.

Snatching up the axe that had been abandoned at the door by his feet, Aaron charged into the room. With a savage kick, he bowled Rita over to the floor. Shouting out his fury, he swung the axe at the sprawling zombie. With a sickening, wet crunch, Rita was dispatched. Aaron swung the axe twice more for good measure.

“Motherfucker,” Grace choked on her own blood as she clutched the wound on her shoulder.

“Come on,” Cliff had entered the room and knelt down by Grace, “We’ve got to get you out of here.”

“Not on your life,” Grace pushed him away, “I don’t have long left, I betcha.”

“Well…” Cliff struggled to find the words, “We can’t just leave you here.”

“You can, and you will,” Grace gasped, “Lock me inside. I don’t want to hurt anybody when I turn.”

Cliff chewed his lip for a moment. Grudgingly, he stood up and turned to leave the room. Spotting the rifle in the corner, Cliff grabbed it and stepped outside. Aaron followed close behind.

“I’m really sorry, Grace,” he muttered before he crossed the threshold.

With a heavy heart, Aaron closed the door. He looked up to see Cliff watching him. Cliff held out the rifle, offering it to Aaron. Gripping the axe tightly, Aaron shook his head in refusal.

“You should take the gun,” Cliff insisted, “It might save your life.”

“You hold on to it,” Aaron disagreed, “I’d probably just mess this one up like the last one.”

Accepting his logic, Cliff set off downstairs to check on their defenses, such as they were. For the moment, their makeshift barricade was holding the door shut. Cliff was relieved, until he remembered the back door wasn’t barricaded. Setting the rifle down by the stairs, Cliff clutched his shotgun and dashed into the kitchen. There was a pair of chairs for the kitchen table, so he took one and wedged it against the back door.

“What are you doing?” Aaron asked.

Stepping back to admire his handiwork, Cliff answered, “Blocking this door off.”

Aaron assessed the door. “It’s still locked, and it opens outwards,” he noted.

Cliff looked back at the new barricade. “Still,” he said, “Nothing’s getting through that way.”

Through the glass pane of the backdoor, they spotted a zombie approaching. It slammed its outstretched arms into the window, shattering glass. Aaron gulped as it dawned on him that they were totally surrounded now. Wood splintered and glass shattered around the house. Looking about in surprise, Aaron and Cliff spotted zombies’ arms breaching the shuttered windows. From the corner in the kitchen, Scruffy whined in terror.

“Okay,” Cliff assessed, “This looks pretty bad.”

“Tell me about it,” Aaron agreed.

“We’ve got to beat these guys back,” Cliff announced. To illustrate his point, he hefted the shotgun as he approached the nearest window and slammed the butt into a zombie’s face.

“No kidding,” Aaron agreed.

Aaron ran up to the back door where the zombie was pushing against the broken frame. With another shout, he swung the axe in a deadly arc. As the axe found itself embedded in the skull, the zombie instantly became dead weight. Aaron lost his grip as the zombie instantly became deadweight and fell. To his chagrin, two more zombies stepped up to take its place.

“Hey, Cliff,” Aaron called out, “We have a slight problem.”

With an unfortunate sense of timing, immediately after Aaron lost his weapon, their makeshift barricade at the front door failed. The door creaked open and zombies started filing inside in a disorderly mob. Cliff looked over to see what the problem was.

“Shit,” he whistled.

“What do we do now?” Aaron wailed, “Game over man! Game over!”

Cliff came up with a plan in a flash, “Get upstairs. I’ll clear us a path. Maybe we can climb out a window or something.”

Raising the shotgun, Cliff aimed at the nearest zombie. The shotgun was twice as deafening indoors, but the zombie tumbled backwards all the same. More will filling into the room rapidly, pushing through the now open door and climbing through the windows. Pumping back the shotgun, Cliff ejected the spent shell and lined up another shot. Squeezing the trigger, the shotgun let out a dry click.

“I’m empty,” Cliff noted, barely surprised.

“So what do we do? How do we get out?” Aaron was getting desperate and Scruffy began to howl.

“Stick to the plan,” Cliff announced as he flipped the shotgun around to better bludgeon the zombies with, “I’ll clear a path and you get out of here.”

“Me?” Aaron asked incredulously, “What about you?”

Before he could get an answer, Cliff ran into the living room screaming. Swinging the shotgun in wide arcs, he caught the nearest zombie in the face with the weapon’s stock and sent another tumbling to the floor. Pressing his advantage, Cliff held the shotgun like a hockey stick and crosschecked a zombie into its fellows.

“What are you waiting for, a written invitation?” Cliff barked, “Get out of here!”

Aaron hesitated no further. Scooping up Scruffy, he dashed into the living room. Cliff had cleared a path to the stairs but was quickly becoming overwhelmed. Aaron realised what a hero Cliff was, and what a coward he was being and felt ashamed. Running for the stairs, he jumped over a zombie on the floor. The zombie lurched up as he leapt and caught him by the ankle. Aaron fell heavily to the ground and dropped Scruffy, who ran up the stairs.

Desperately trying to crawl away, Aaron shouted and kicked at the zombie that had him. Still, it held fast. Seeing the dire straits that Aaron was in, Cliff lunged toward the zombie holding him down. With a vicious strike, he drove the shotgun stock into the zombie’s skull a moment before it could reach Aaron with it’s jaws. Immediately, the zombies behind Cliff set upon him, hauling him away.

“Cliff!” Aaron shouted helplessly.

“Go!” Cliff screamed, “Get out of here!”

Broken teeth sank into Cliff’s flesh and he cried out, a wordless scream that was an amalgamation of pain, fury, and terror. Aaron found his feet and backed away to the stairs. He almost tripped over Grace’s rifle, but he stopped to pick it up. Aaron couldn’t bear to watch his friend die, so he raised the rifle and took aim. With a squeeze of the trigger, he put his friend out of his misery and swore he wouldn’t forget his sacrifice.

Above him, Scruffy barked. The dog had run up the stairs, but now realised it was trapped. Aaron looked at the zombies fast approaching, now no longer as interested in Cliff’s body. Dashing up the stairs, Aaron pushed past Scruffy. The dog slipped on the wooden floor as he struggled to find traction, but soon followed after the boy.

Near the end of the hall was a window, still shuttered shut. Aaron tried to slide the window open, but the wood had swollen with moisture and neglect. Cursing, he laid the rifle down against the wall and threw his weight into opening the window. With a splintering crack, the window fell free of the frame. Aaron threw it aside without a second thought and unshuttered the window.

Scruffy barked and Aaron looked over his shoulder. Sure enough, the zombies had summited the stairs and were staggering towards them. Aaron scooped up Scruffy and helped him through the window and onto the roof below. Snatching up the rifle, Aaron followed out just as the zombies were getting within reach. Cliff’s heroic sacrifice had bought Aaron a few extra seconds, just enough to escape the house with Scruffy, but if he wanted to survive any longer he’d have to come up with another plan.

Pathogen - Chapter 22

Together Cliff, Aaron, and Scruffy set off down the stairs and into the darkened living room. Aaron was excited to finally get a fire going in the chilly house. So excited, in fact, that he slipped on an empty beer can as he bounded across the floor. The can skittered and clacked across the floor, but Aaron managed to keep his balance.

“Dude,” he complained as he regained his composure, “Why’s it always such a fucking mess in here? Don’t the kids clean up after they party here?”

“Did you guys clean up when you partied here?” Cliff asked.

Aaron shook his head, “No, of course not.”

“Well, there you go then.”

Digging through his pocket, Aaron retrieved the cigarette lighter that Rita had given him. It was a dark blue plastic job with a red safety switch next to the flint. The lighter looked like it was a cheap one that could be found in any dollar store or convenience store across the country. It took a couple attempts, but Aaron flicked it on.

By dim firelight, Aaron inspected the fireplace. The ashen remains of the last fire were still within, but like everything else in the house these were cold too. Aaron extinguished the lighter.

“Shucks,” he complained, “I was hoping it’d be all ready to go.”

“Right,” Cliff rolled his eyes, “As if we’d be so lucky. Also, the firewood is like, right outside.”

“Yeah, but it’s cold out there,” Aaron rubbed his arms through his sleeves as he shivered. “I don’t suppose you’d be a champ and go get some?”

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” Cliff could see that Aaron wasn’t. “Sorry pal, but I’ll be a bro instead and help you get the firewood.”

“Whatever,” Aaron sighed dejectedly, “I guess that works.”

Cliff and Aaron stepped towards the front door that was still slightly ajar. Scruffy budged in front of them and nosed his way through the door first. He was excited to get outside and stretch his legs again, and bounded across the scraggly grass on the stoney island.

“That’s one happy pooch,” Cliff noted with a smile.

“Yeah, too bad Steve wasn’t here to see him,” Aaron sighed.

The smile vanished from Cliff’s face. He turned away brusquely and walked towards where the firewood was kept in a neat pile next to the house. A previous visitor had already chopped several pieces to kindling, no doubt compelled to do so by some drunken fantasy of lumberjackery. Cliff loaded up on firewood, and Aaron helped too. Together they marched back inside, leaving Scruffy to his play.

“Do you even know how to build a fire?” Cliff asked as he dumped his pile of firewood near the fireplace.

“No,” Aaron admitted as he set his load down too, “My folks never took me camping.”

“I’ll take care of it, but I need you to find some things,” Cliff instructed, “We have kindling and logs, but I need some kind of firestarter. Newspaper, wood chips, or even dried up grass if you can’t find anything.”

“Is regular paper okay?” Aaron asked, “In case I can’t find a newspaper lying around.”

Cliff gave Aaron an odd look. “Of course it is,” he chided, “Whether it’s in a newspaper or from a book, or printer, or whatever, it’ll work. What the hell do you think a newspaper is made out of?”

“I don’t know,” Aaron shrugged, “I thought the paper was special. I mean, you can’t normally get it in sheets that big.”

Momentarily speechless, Cliff struggled to find his words. “Just go find something that burns easily,” he finally managed to spit out.

With a halfhearted and completely improper salute, Aaron marched off into the kitchen and left Cliff to get the fireplace ready. He wasn’t sure exactly what he’d find for combustibles, but he was sure he’d turn something up.

The kitchen was as much of a mess as the living room, with refuse littered all over the floors and countertops. By a shuttered window a small but solid table stood against the wall on his left, covered from top to bottom in graffiti. To Aaron’s amusement, someone had taken the time to stack up empty beer cans to form a small little castle on top of the table. The refrigerator and stove were next to the countertops on the wall next to the back door. On his right was a door, ostensibly leading to the bathroom.

Deciding to try his luck in the bathroom, Aaron pushed his way through the door on his right. This room was in desperate need of a cleaning by the smell of it. Reaching out to the toilet, Aaron tried to flush. Nothing happened, and he glumly accepted there must be something wrong with the plumbing. He was about to retreat from the room entirely before he gagged from the smell when he spotted something he might be able to use. Perched on top of the holder for it was half a roll of toilet paper.

Snatching up the roll of tissue, Aaron left the bathroom as quickly as he could and returned to Cliff. “Will this work?” he asked as he offered him the toilet paper.

“Sure will,” Cliff answered as he took it.

The fireplace was all ready to be lit, save for the firestarter. Cliff had arranged the wood with the smallest pieces at the bottom so that they could catch light and in turn light the larger logs. Holding out the roll, Cliff had Aaron light the roll from one end before he placed it beneath the kindling. The paper burned brilliantly, yet Cliff still had to coax the flames licking the wood into taking off. After a few minutes of work, they had a roaring fire going.

Aaron happily sat on the fire a few feet away from the blaze. Now that he could finally dry out and get warm, he didn’t even care that there were zombies lurching through the city. Cliff had other concerns, however.

“Did you get that roll from the bathroom?” he asked Aaron.

“Yeah, how come?” Aaron wondered.

“Were there any others?”

“I didn’t see any,” Aaron answered, “Why would we need more?”

“Why do you think we’d need more?”

Aaron thought for a moment. “In case the fire goes out and we need to start it again?” he guessed.

“No,” Cliff shook his head, “What do you normally use toilet paper for?”

“Oh,” it dawned on Aaron, “Shit.”

“Yeah, that’s what I’m worried about.”

“Maybe rescue will show up before we have to worry about it,” Aaron remained hopeful.

“Yeah, they better,” Cliff nodded, “But either way, I’m saving Mrs. Withers’ prunes for the end.”

The mention of food, even old lady food that nobody his age should be interested in, made Aaron hungry. “If only we had some marshmallows,” Aaron thought out loud as he looked into the burning flames, “Then we could have some roasted marshmallows and hot dogs. If we had some hot dogs, that is.”

“I think there was a can of spam in the bag,” Cliff gestured at their provisions with a tilt of his head, “Toasted spam might be like toasted hot dogs.”

Aaron thought for a moment. “I’m going out to get a stick,” Aaron decided as he climbed to his feet.

Just as Aaron was standing up, Scruffy nosed his way back inside. He was happily wagging his tail, no doubt having just finished his business in a new place. Although that was the pinnacle of excitement for dogs, Scruffy was now content to curl up in front of the fire in the spot Aaron had just vacated.

“We have to barricade the door still,” Cliff noted, “I forgot all about it.”

“That can wait until I find my stick,” Aaron decided before stepping out into the brisk night air.

After several minutes of searching, Aaron found the perfect stick at the foot of the apple tree. It was sturdy, possessed a good length, and the end of the stick forked out. All in all, it was perfect for campfire cooking. Aaron wondered if Scruffy had probably peed on the tree. Shrugging the thought away, he decided that it would just give the spam a more authentic and gamey flavour.

A raindrop spattered on the back of his head. Looking up, Aaron saw that stormy clouds had gathered overhead. Shaking of the sense of foreboding creeping inside him, Aaron told himself he was happy to have a cozy fire indoors to go back to. Turning his back on the clouds, Aaron strutted back inside.

“I found a stick,” Aaron announced as he pushed the door somewhat shut behind him.

Cliff stood up and addressed Aaron, “I’ve been thinking, there might actually be some marshmallows here. That’d be the kind of thing somebody might bring here for a party.”

“Yeah, but how long ago?” Aaron couldn’t help asking, “What if they’re all spoiled?”

“Do marshmallows even go bad?” Cliff asked, “Have you ever had a rotten marshmallow before?”

Aaron thought a moment. “Good point,” he agreed before gesturing with his toasting stick, “To the kitchen!”

Together they walked into the kitchen and marched straight to the cupboards. They started rummaging through them, but didn’t turn up marshmallows. For that matter, they didn’t find any food.

“Well, that was a bust,” Aaron sighed.

Cliff turned to lean against the counter. “What’s that?” he gestured at the beer can fortress.

“Someone had too much time on their hands,” Aaron supplied, “It looks like a castle to me.”

“We should name it,” Cliff suggested.

Aaron thought for a moment. “Beerberg,” he declared.

“Castle Coors,” Cliff countered.

“Fort Draught.”

“Molson and Bailey.”

Leaning in for a better look, Aaron struggled to come up with another name. However, he saw something hidden away inside the aluminum bastion. A portable radio had been left behind, no doubt obscured by the screen of cans. Gingerly reaching over the walls, Aaron retrieved the radio.

“What’ve you got there?” Cliff asked as he stepped in to get a better look.

“It’s a radio,” Aaron inspected the device, “I wonder if it’s got any batteries left.”

Flicking the power switch into the on position, Aaron was greeted with very loud static. The noise startled him, and he almost dropped the radio. Instead, he lowered the volume and started tuning for a channel.

“That sounded like voices,” Cliff pointed out as the static warbled, “Go back to that.”

Complying, Aaron adjusted the frequency. The antenna was damaged, and it was hard to zero in on the source, but finally they could hear a voice speaking over the static.

“This is a military broadcast,” a calm, modulated voice spoke against the hiss of the radio. “Fog City is under a state of emergency, and the government has declared martial law. Do not leave your homes, or you may be mistaken for infected. If an infected person attempts to enter your home, you may defend yourself by destroying the brain. Evacuation is forthcoming, but if you need emergency assistance, or encounter infected outside the city limits, the following is a set of instructions to establish contact by shortwave radio.”

Together Cliff and Aaron listened to the instructions. After they concluded, the message repeated itself. When it started a third time, they realised it must be a recording.

“So they’re going to evacuate us,” Aaron beamed, “That’s good news, right?”

“I don’t know,” Cliff shook his head, “We’re not really in the city here. They might not think to come out here looking for survivors.”

“Well, then we’ll just go back to the mainland,” Aaron said.

“No way,” Cliff argued, “The last thing I want is for some jarhead to put a bullet in me because I might be a zombie.”

“Oh yeah,” Aaron thought about their options, “I guess we could call them? They gave us instructions on how to use a shortwave radio. Maybe we can MacGyver this into one of those.”

“You don’t know how a radio works, do you?” Cliff asked.

“You don’t know how MacGyver works, do you?” Aaron shot back.

Cliff chuckled, but an idea formed at the mention of the radio. “Maybe there is a shortwave radio here. Lighthouses used to have radios in them so they could flag down passing ships. What if when this one was decommissioned it was left behind?”

“Great idea,” Aaron grinned, “Let’s go get us a military escort.”

Aaron and Cliff walked back into the living room and found Scruffy staring out the door. His hackles were raised and his tail was firmly tucked between his legs.

“What’s the matter, boy?” Cliff asked the dog as if it could tell him.

With a whimper, Scruffy stepped backwards away from the door. Cliff pushed past the dog to see what had him spooked. Peering out the door, Cliff realised how much danger they were in. From the front door, Cliff had a commanding view of the island. So it wasn’t difficult for him to spot the army of zombies staggering up the gentler slope on the far side of the island.

Something wet struck his face. Looking up at the stormy clouds above, Cliff realised things were worse than he thought. It was a dark and stormy night.

Pathogen - Chapter 21

Together the four of them sat in silence. Nobody had told them the end of the world would be so boring. It wasn’t long before Cliff became restless.

Getting up, he said, “I’m going downstairs. Someone’s going to have to see if there’s anything useful left behind.”

Aaron stood up too, “I’m coming with you. Maybe we’ll find something to start a fire with, I’m still pretty cold.”

“I’ve got a lighter,” Rita offered as she rummaged through her pockets.

Retrieving a small, inexpensive looking cigarette lighter, Rita offered it up to Aaron. Unable to contain his excitement, Aaron dashed into the room.

“Thanks lady,” he said as he snatched the lighter, “I’m so happy I could just kiss you.”

“Please don’t,” Rita retorted as her face screwed up in disgust.

Cliff laughed. “Come on, Aaron,” he beckoned as he left the room, “You want to come too, Scruffy?”

Scruffy barked and trotted down the stairs. Aaron and Cliff started down the stairs together. Left alone in the bedroom with Rita, Grace looked around at her surroundings for the first time.

Rita was stretched out on the bed now, both had seen better days. It was a hand carved wooden four poster without the canopy. The headboard was carved with graffiti, mostly couples who had gotten to know each other better there. In one corner stood an old, beaten wardrobe. Against the wall Grace was leaning against was an old rollout desk. At least, it used to be one, the part that folded down had been broken off.

“This place is cheery,” Grace murmured sarcastically.

“Tell me about it,” Rita agreed, “I’m just glad I found a place to lay low for a while. All this running around has me exhausted.”

Together they sat in silence for a minute or two before Grace spoke up again. “When do you suppose rescue is going to show up?” she asked.

“I have no idea,” Rita admitted, “But do you think they’ll know to come here? This place is abandoned after all.”

“Well, maybe they’ll think to check here because it’s a safe refuge.” Grace countered.

“Okay, suppose they do,” Rita said, “What if it takes them a long time to get here? Did you guys think to bring any food?”

“We have a few days’ worth,” Grace revealed. “Probably less now that you’re here, but we can ration it.”

“Thanks. But what if it isn’t enough. Or worse, what if we one of us gets sick?”

“One of us already got sick,” Grace noted with a hint of sadness, “There isn’t anything we can do about it if it happens.”

“What if there’s a cure?” Rita asked, “That could change everything.”

“What if there’s unicorns and pixie dust?” Grace spat, “It’s just as likely.”

“Maybe,” Rita admitted, “But we might be able to find out.”

Grace jumped to her feet immediately. “What do you know?” she interrogated Rita, “Have you been holding out on us?”

“No, nothing so sinister,” Rita scooched back on the bed, “But if we can find a computer, I can get us onto the hospital network. The doctors were treating this as a new disease, and compiled everything they knew into a single file. Maybe somebody found a treatment before things got too hot to handle.”

“Then we’re going to need to find a unicorn,” Grace joked, “Because then we can wish up a computer. And electricity. Also an internet connection.”

“Or we could just use your phone,” Rita pointed out. “It’s basically a computer, and we can use the cellular network to get on the internet.”

“The network went down,” Grace filled Rita in, “When things got bad in the city, everybody tried using their phones at once, and nobody could put a call out.”

“That’s the phone exchange,” Rita explained, “The internet doesn’t work off the exchange. It’s all by satellite, and last I checked they’re all still in space.”

“Okay, I didn’t see it raining fire,” Grace admitted, “It could be worth a shot.”

Shutting down the flashlight app, Grace handed her phone to Rita. She immediately set to work on it, tapping away furiously on the keyboard. Grace was at a loss for what to do in the meantime. She didn’t think she could help out, and just stood there helplessly.

Sensing her distress, Rita looked up from the phone. “You can sit on the bed if you’d like,” she offered as she made room for Grace, “I won’t bite.”

Awkwardly, Grace sat on the edge of the bed with her back to Rita. Being in bed with someone she’d just met made her a little uncomfortable, even if they were just sitting together. Silently, she wished Rita would hurry up and find what she was looking for.

“I’m in,” Rita announced, saving Grace from further discomfort.

“Did you find the file?” she asked.

“Not yet,” Rita answered, “But I’m on the network now.”

Grace turned and looked at Rita. She could see her face clearly by the light of the phone’s display. She looked haggard, and her face was drawn back in a gaunt expression of fatigue. Running around the city must have taken a lot out of her. Rita looked up and caught Grace staring at her. Embarrassed, Grace turned away.

“I found the file,” Rita handed Grace her phone again, “I’m going to try to get some rest now.”

Taking the phone from Rita, Grace watched as she rolled away from her to stare at the wall. She was sorry she’d been watching her, but she wasn’t sure how to make up for it. With a sigh, Grace leaned forward to look at her phone.

The display was full of dense medical jargon. Grace wasn’t well versed in medicine, but she parsed through the text to decipher what little she could understand. There was so much in the file that went straight over her head, but she was able to pick out bits and pieces here and there. She read that the infection was a virus, which she believed meant that antibiotics didn’t help any. The hospital had taken samples of infected patients’ blood and were awaiting test results.

However, the more she read, the more she realised the doctors were focused on managing symptoms than curing the disease. It was too early to come up with a real solution. With a sigh, Grace shut off the display on her phone. With a rueful gaze, she looked into the darkness of the corner where she’d left her rifle. Although her night vision was spoiled by looking at the phone, she knew that the only cure was sitting in the chamber. A bullet was the thin line between humanity and zombies.

Stretching out in the bed, Grace finally decided to lay herself down. Although it was old and musty, and the sheets were filthy, it felt good to be in a real bed. She smiled at the thought of that. The world probably hadn’t even officially ended yet, it was only the first day since zombies started walking the streets. Yet still, here she was missing her bed already.

Rita snored softly beside her. Grace envied that she was able to fall asleep so quickly, but pitied the fact that she was exhausted enough to do so.

Staring at the ceiling, Grace wondered what to do. She wasn’t sure how to pass the time while they waited for rescue. She also didn’t know how long they could last on the supplies they’d scavenged.

For a while she worried about what would happen if they outlasted their supplies. If that were the case, they’d have to leave the island to find more. She wondered what Fog City would be like a few days after the outbreak. Maybe they’d emerge and find everything had blown over. More likely, she thought that they’d find the city had become a warzone between the living and the dead.

Beside her, Rita stirred. “What’s the matter?” Grace asked, “Can’t sleep?”

Unexpectedly, Rita grabbed at Grace. Clutching her arm, she snarled at her.

“What the fuck?” Grace ejaculated in surprise, as Rita gnashed her teeth.

Grace realised too late the real reason Rita had been exhausted. She wasn’t only fatigued from being on the run, but she had the disease all along. It was no wonder that she’d been so interested in finding a cure.

Pulling back, Grace fell out of the bed. Rita tumbled after her, pinning her to the floor. Grace looked up at the corner where the gun was, then up at Rita as she was trying to take a bit out of her. The rifle was out of reach, and Rita was surprisingly strong.

Faced with no other options, Grace screamed for her life.

Pathogen - Chapter 20

Stepping into the glare of the flashlight, Cliff aimed the shotgun at the strange woman. “Drop the weapon!” he barked in an intimidating shout that surprised even himself.

Startled, the woman stepped back from the doorway. She released her grip on the axe and it clattered to the ground. Grace stepped around Cliff to shine the light on her, and she covered her eyes against the dazzling brightness.

The woman had clearly seen better days. Her pinstriped blouse and dark pleated pants were stained with dirt and blood, a testament of the ordeal she’d been forced through. She had tied her blonde hair back in a tight ponytail, yet still loose hairs were hanging about her face in disarray. Exhaustion had wreaked havoc on her features and although the woman was only in her late twenties, she appeared much older than that.

“S-sorry,” she stammered as she regarded the axe on the floor with downcast eyes, “I wasn’t expecting company.”

“Yeah, neither were we,” Cliff explained, but kept his weapon trained on her.

Grace pushed the barrel of the shotgun down to the floor. “Dude, give it a rest,” she admonished, “Look at her, the last thing she needs is to get shot.”

Although he was no longer aiming at her, Cliff still stared at the woman intently. “Why didn’t you show yourself when we came in? Were you lying in wait for us?” he interrogated her.

“What?” she asked incredulously, “I was scared of you. I locked all the doors in case the infected showed up, and then next thing I know I hear a gunshot and a bunch of strange people break in. I thought you might want to hurt me, so I hid in here.” The woman rubbed her arm and asked meekly, “You aren’t going to hurt me, are you?”

Cliff looked away in embarrassment, but Grace spoke up to reassure the woman. “We’re not here to hurt anybody,” she soothed the distraught woman, “We’re just hiding from the zombies out here, same as you.”

“Zombies?” the woman asked, “Is that what you guys call them?”

Aaron spoke up from the floor, still lounging there with Scruffy, “If it looks like a zombie, eats like a zombie, and dies like a zombie, then yeah, we call them zombies.”

“Interesting,” the woman mused, “At the hospital they kept just calling them ‘infected.’ Of course, the name had already stuck by the time the dead ones started eating the living ones.”

“You’re from the hospital?” Cliff asked, “What are you, a nurse or something?”

“Hardly,” the woman scoffed, “I’m the system administrator. My name’s Rita.”

“Well it’s very nice to meet you, Rita,” Grace began to introduce themselves, “I’m Grace, the dude on the floor is Aaron, and the man who almost shot you is Cliff.”

“Sorry for that,” Cliff apologised sheepishly, “I just saw the axe, and this place is pretty spooky, right?”

“I wouldn’t have blamed you if you shot me,” Rita remarked, “Coming across somebody who looks like an axe murderer in an abandoned house? I’d have shot me too. This whole place has a bad horror movie vibe.”

“Right? That’s what I’m saying,” Aaron agreed.

“Let’s not talk about horror movies,” Cliff interrupted, “You said you were at the hospital? Is that where you were when this whole thing went down?”

“That’s right,” Rita nodded with a shiver, “But I thought you didn’t want to talk about horror movies.”

“Let’s hear your story,” Grace insisted, “We’ve got to do something to pass the time, right?”

“Well, okay,” Rita relented as she stepped back into the bedroom to sit on the edge of the bed, “Might as well make yourselves comfortable though, it’s a long story.”

Grace and Cliff stepped into the room and leaned against the walls in the corner. Aaron chose to sit with Scruffy still, seeing as how he could hear perfectly fine from where he was. Once everyone had settled, Rita launched into her story.

“Like I told you, I’m the system administrator for the hospital. Whenever somebody loses their password, or their computers aren’t working with the network correctly, I’m the person who has to fix it. There’s hundreds of computers in the building, so I should have a whole team of people working for me. But the budget hardly has enough to pay my own salary, so that’s out of the question. So usually I end up working late well past my shift, which is what happened today.

“Our computers are all connected together into a single network, but they also share an intranet with other hospitals across the country. The director of the hospital was having a problem sending an email through the intranet. They were trying to get ahold of another director in the capital, but the email just wouldn’t send.”

Grace interrupted, “Why didn’t you just have him send it through the regular internet instead of the intranet?”

Rita smiled wryly, “You think I didn’t tell her that? Of course it’d work. Of course the whole internet isn’t going to go down. But of course, that wasn’t good enough for her. She told me that the intranet should work, so therefore it must work, and that I had to get it working. Naturally, she waited until the end of the day to tell me, so instead of getting to go home and relax, I was stuck cleaning up someone else’s mess.

“It was the end of the day here, but the hospital we were trying to reach was in a different timezone. So I tried to call up their IT department, but I never got an answer. I sent them an email, not through the intranet, and set about trying to fix it myself. Now in addition to the hundreds of computers I had to manage alone, now I had to fix another network by myself.”

Cliff spoke up with a question, “They never picked up the phone? Did they answer the email?”

“I don’t know,” Rita shook her head, “I left my phone at my desk, and I’ve been a bit too distracted to check my email.”

“What if the reason they didn’t answer was because they got slammed with zombies too?” Cliff chewed the inside of his cheek as he mulled it over, “We have no idea how widespread this thing is. Could it be in the capital already?”

“There’s no sense worrying about it,” Grace cut in, “If we can’t find out for sure, then we might as well not know about it.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Cliff looked back up to Rita, “Sorry to interrupt. Tell your story.”

“Okay, so as I was saying,” Rita continued her tale, “Our network couldn’t communicate with their network. I tried pinging individual computers, but it was like the whole hospital had just gone dark. There’s a few different things that could cause that, but I never got a chance to find out.

“I was still busy working away when a bunch of cops showed up. They told me they were placing me and the entire hospital on a mandatory quarantine. I was pissed, and told them as much. I told them that I hadn’t even been into a room with a patient all day, but they said it didn’t matter. They weren’t too happy either, I guess, since they had to stay behind too. Whatever our feelings were, they escorted me downstairs near the emergency room where everyone was being held.

“All day, the hospital had been taking in people with the flu. Only, now I guess I realise it wasn’t actually the flu. Anyhow, the hospital had just started giving out the flu shots, but the doctors were complaining about how late the vaccine had arrived. They said that by this point, a lot of people would already have the flu. So it didn’t really come as a surprise when all these people showed up with flu like symptoms. It did come as a surprise when it was half the town in the hospital.

“Soon the doctors were getting pretty overwhelmed. Not only was the sheer volume of patients pretty insane, but the symptoms were setting on much faster than the flu. People were fading fast, and everyone wanted to leave. But now the police had shown up, and they told everyone they had to stay put.

“Naturally, there was some unrest because of the crowding and the quarantine, but that gave way to panic when people started dying. The flu patients didn’t make it, but nobody could have expected that they’d start eating people. In a few moments, the scene turned to utter chaos. Everyone was screaming, everyone wanted out. The cops said they’d use force if we tried to leave, but the crowd just trampled them. I think one of them died, but I was swept up in the rush and couldn’t tell.

“Not everybody made it out. Some of them died in the trample, and others were bit by the sick people they’d brought in. However it happened, there were fewer of us who made it out than had made it to the hospital.

“Now that we were out on the street, I realised I didn’t know where to go. I tried to go back inside to get my things, I guess I was after my car keys, but a man stopped me. He told me it was too dangerous to go in there. He said he’d seen the movies before and knew what this was, and he’d be able to keep me safe.

“Well, he convinced a few of us to come with him, but it wasn’t long before we started to doubt his ability to keep us safe. We wandered through town on foot, but the infected kept herding us. We lost so m

“I thought I was done for. You know, there was nobody left, I was the last person alive, and I was totally out of my element. I work with computers for crying out loud, I’m not cut out for survivalism. But next thing I know, this dog here jumps out and starts barking at me.

any to them, until eventually it was just me and him. We walked clear across town, those things always just right behind us, until we got to the suburbs.

“He thought we had some safe distance between us and them, so he let his guard down. We found an abandoned police car in the middle of the street, and because we hadn’t had a chance to find any weapons, he set to searching it. Well, he didn’t find anything inside, but next thing I know there’s one of the infected, and she’s eating him.”

Grace and Cliff exchanged a guilty look at the mention of the police car. Deciding to say nothing, they urged Rita to continue.

“I thought I was done for then. I’m not cut out for survivalism, I work with computers for crying out loud. But then all of a sudden, this dog here jumps out and starts barking at me. At first I just kind of ignored him, but then he warned me about some more infected I was about to run into. Suddenly I realised he was trying to lead me out of here, and that I should be following this dog out of here.”

“So that’s where you found Scruffy at,” Aaron called out from the hallway. Scruffy’s ears perked up at the mention of his name.

“You know him?” Rita asked.

“Yeah, he’s our friend Steve’s dog,” Aaron explained.

“Small world, huh? Where’s your friend Steve at?” Rita asked.

An uncomfortable silence followed, and Rita realised she shouldn’t have asked. “Sorry,” she murmured.

“It’s okay,” Cliff muttered and changed the subject, “So what happened next?”

“There’s not much to say,” Rita sighed, “The dog and I ran for what seemed like hours. The fog was so thick, but I guess he could smell the infected or something. I didn’t have a plan, but I trusted that the dog wasn’t going to lead me into a trap. Before long, we made it down to the beach, and we actually ran past the breakwater before I realised that this place was probably safe from the infected.

“It took some convincing to get him to come, but the dog and I crossed the breakwater. There was a ladder hanging from the cliff, and it was a real struggle getting the dog up there. But eventually we were at the top. I pulled in the ladder because I didn’t know if the infected knew how to climb it. Then I found this axe in the stump outside, and walked inside. I locked all the doors and windows behind me, then hid up here. About an hour later, you guys showed up.”

“I guess we’re all up to speed,” Aaron spoke from the hallway, “So now that we’re all safe here, what do we do?”

Everyone shrugged. Nobody knew how long it would be until help arrived. In the meantime, all they could do was wait and hope for the best.

Pathogen - Chapter 19

Although the door lay open before the three friends, they did not immediately set foot in the abandoned house. The unexpected shotgun blast had rendered Grace stunned and ill tempered. She clutched at her ears as she wished the ringing would subside.

“What the actual fuck, Cliff!?” she shouted at her friend.

Cliff gestured to the door with the shotgun, “You couldn’t get the door open, Gray. I opened it for you.”

Grace wasn’t amused, and informed Cliff of her annoyance. “You could have at least warned me,” she shrieked.

“I did,” Cliff insisted, “I told you to step back so I could open the door.”

“You didn’t tell me you were going to shoot the fucking door!”

“But you got out of the way,” Cliff protested, “You must have known I was about to do it.”

Screaming full into Cliff’s face, Grace explained, “I thought you were going to kick in the door!”

“Oh. Yeah, that would have made sense,” Cliff mulled it over from Grace’s perspective, “Sorry about that.”

“You’re sorry?” Grace yelled, “You’re fucking sorry?”

“Sure am,” Cliff nodded, “I didn’t mean to hurt your ears or anything.”

With a wordless shout of frustration, Grace stormed off. Kicking the ajar door wide open, she slammed the door into the wall. The door gouged a chunk out of the plaster wall and came to a rest.

Aaron bent down to inspect the damaged door. Relying on a single locking doorknob, the door didn’t have a deadbolt. So when Cliff shot open the door, he had taken the knob with it. A stray pellet had lodged itself in the door, but otherwise the damage was confined to a neat, if irregular, circle.

“I don’t think this door is going to close,” Aaron assessed, “You’ve got it right messed up now.”

“Really?” Cliff asked incredulously as he bent down to check the damage himself, “Son of a bitch, you’re right. I didn’t mean to do that.”

“Is this place going to be safe now? I mean, the door won’t close anymore,” Aaron asked.

“Sure,” Cliff nodded, “There’s no way a zombie’s getting up here. But just in case, we’ll find something to barricade the door with too. Can’t be too safe.”

“It’s going to be awfully drafty,” Aaron pointed out.

“Look, I already apologised to Grace, are you looking for one too?” Cliff asked.

“No,” Aaron shook his head, “Let’s just get inside already though. I’m still freezing my nuts off.”

Suddenly realising how cold he was himself, Cliff nodded to Aaron. Together they stepped inside, Cliff towing their supplies behind him. With all the windows being shuttered, it was incredibly dark indoors. They could only make out dim outlines in this first room. Opposite them was the doorway to the kitchen, with Grace’s form silhouetted in the window pane of the back door. On the far side of the living room were stairs running up with a ratty old couch lying against them. The fireplace lay cold and dormant in the corner.

“It’s pretty dark in here,” Aaron shivered, “Cold too.”

“No shit,” Grace shot back from the kitchen, “Way to state the obvious.”

“I don’t suppose we brought a flashlight,” Aaron asked Cliff.

“I didn’t think to,” Cliff shook his head, “I don’t know why. This place hasn’t had lights for years.”

“Hold on a second,” Grace announced as she walked towards them, “I have an idea.”

She stopped in front of them, and the two boys stared intently at her, waiting to see how she was going to make light. She rummaged through her pockets for a moment, but it was too dark to make out the object she had retrieved. Without warning, a bright light flashed straight in Aaron and Cliff’s face. With a shout of surprise, they reeled backwards and were temporarily blinded.

Grinning like a madwoman, Grace lowered her smartphone. The display was very bright and had caused her friends’ bewilderment. Now she switched on her flashlight app and lit up the whole room.

“What the hell, Gray?” Cliff rubbed his eyes, “Why didn’t you warn us?”

“I did warn you,” Grace smiled, “Just like you warned me you were going to shoot the door. I gave you a vague direction, then blindsided you.”

“Okay,” Cliff chuckled as he tried to blink away the spots still shining in his eyes, “But we’re even now, right?”

“Not even close,” Grace shook her head, still grinning widely.

“Aw, man,” Aaron complained, “Think of the collateral damage. I didn’t do nothing, but you blinded me too.”

Grace shrugged, still enjoying herself. Sweeping the phone’s light across the room, she took in her surroundings while Aaron and Cliff were regaining their night vision. The floor was made up of uneven floorboards, almost hidden away by loose refuse. Discarded beer cans, snack wrappers, and other waste littered the room. The paint on the walls was peeling, and covered in stains of an ambiguous origin. Above the couch the bannister for the stairs had broken away, no doubt the result of drunken horseplay.

Screwing her face up, Grace asked, “Did you guys really used to come out here to party?”

“Yeah,” Aaron answered her, “Best place to go get drunk, until you’re old enough to go to the bars anyway.”

“It’s a fucking mess,” Grace insisted.

Aaron pushed past her and flopped on the couch. “Now who’s stating the obvious?” he asked as he stretched out, “This is where teenagers come to hang out. They’re not exactly known for their housekeeping.”

“Dude,” Grace pointed out, “You’re dripping on the couch.”

With a groan, Aaron sat up. “What’s it matter anyway? It’s not like the old lighthouse keeper’s ghost is going to come and haunt us for messing up his couch.”

“One of us is going to have to sleep there, and I don’t want to have to sleep in a puddle. So get off the fucking couch,” Grace demanded.

“There isn’t a lighthouse keeper’s ghost, is there?” Cliff asked, “Because the last thing we need is more dead people showing up, but that can walk through walls.”

“No way, dude,” Aaron laughed, “But I’m going to be a ghost soon if I can’t get warm. How about we start a fire?”

Grace eyed the fireplace suspiciously, “I wonder when the last time they had the chimney swept was.”

“Uh, I don’t know, maybe this time called the 1800’s?” Aaron shot back, “You know, back when chimney sweeping urchins were in vogue.”

“You still have to get your chimney swept, dumbass,” Grace glowered at Aaron.

“Yeah,” Cliff agreed, “They still do that.”

“What, really? What the hell for?” Aaron asked incredulously.

“So you don’t burn your fucking house down, numbskull,” Grace answered. “If you don’t get your chimney swept it’s a crazy fire hazard. Why the hell do you think they do it?”

“I don’t know,” Aaron was abashed, “I thought it was just an Oliver Twist thing. Like, English people are so snooty that even the insides of their chimneys have to be kept clean.”

“You’re such an idiot,” Grace moaned.

“The cold is restricting the blood flow to my brain,” Aaron explained, “Where are we on that fire, anyway?”

“I don’t think we can make a fire,” Cliff answered.

“What? Why not? There’s tonnes of firewood outside! Come on, man, I’m freezing here.” Aaron continued to complain.

“What I meant,” Cliff explained, “Is that we don’t have any lighters or matches. We literally can’t make fire.”

“Shit,” Aaron declared as he hung his head in defeat.

“Maybe there’s blankets somewhere around here,” Grace thought aloud as she looked around. “In the bedroom, I bet. Is that upstairs?”

“Oh, great idea,” Aaron perked up immediately and bounded up the stairs.

Cliff and Grace watched Aaron take the stairs two at a time. However, Aaron thought there were fewer steps than there actually were. He caught his foot on the step and fell flat on his face with a loud thud.

Trying not to laugh, Cliff called upstairs, “You okay, buddy?”

Before Aaron had a chance to answer, all three friends could hear a dog begin to bark. Aaron cautiously got to his feet and looked down the hall. It was too dark to see, but he remembered the door the bedroom being at the end of the hall. Something was scratching on the door, and the dog was frantically barking from within.

“Hey, I think there’s a dog trapped up here,” Aaron called downstairs, “I’m going to let it out.”

“Woah, hold up,” Grace called out as she hefted her rifle, “What if it’s an attack dog or something?”

“Don’t kid yourself,” Aaron laughed, “Nobody lives here anymore, why would they keep a guard dog here?”

Grace and Cliff hurried upstairs to stop him, but Aaron had already turned the doorknob. He pushed it open and was almost immediately set upon by the dog. It bowled him over and started licking his face

Laughing, Aaron rolled with the dog on the floor. “Who’s a good boy?” he asked.

Reaching the top of the stairs, Grace shined her light on the dog. “Holy shit,” she declared.

“Scruffy!” Cliff called out.

“Scruffy?” Aaron asked as he looked up the dog. Now that he could see, it was plain that this was Steve’s dog. “Holy shit, you magnificent bastard! How’d you get here?”

Grace shined her light into the bedroom. “I suppose we have her to thank for that,” she gulped.

Standing in the doorway was a girl they’d never met before. She was dirty and dishevelled, and looked like she’d been through hell to get here. Grace’s eyes were drawn to her hands, however. She was clutching a wood splitting axe, and was staring intently at the intruders.

Pathogen - Chapter 18

In the urban jungle of Fog City, a group of friends had been running for their life. Five of them went out for a night on the town, but their night turned sour when the patrons of the bar they were partying at started eating each other. Only three of them had escaped the dance floor.

Chuck reflected on the decisions he and his friends had made to try and stay alive. His friends Larry and Wanda hadn’t made it out of the bar, but a couple of his friends had fled with him. James and Vanessa thought it was best to head to the police station in the centre of town. James had said they’d find lots of weapons, and people who knew how to use them, and Vanessa always agreed with James. Chuck had his reservations about the plan, and not just because he and James didn’t get along. After seeing the chaos and bedlam in the streets, he knew that everyone in town was likely to try to make it to the police station.

It hadn’t come as a surprise to him when they finally arrived at the police station and found it was overrun by a bunch of thugs. Chuck said they should just leave, but James tried to act tough. “We aren’t leaving without some guns at least,” he’d informed the criminal authorities, “What are you going to do, shoot me?”

A moment later, Chuck and Vanessa had been dragging away James with a sucking chest wound. He died minutes later. Chuck told Vanessa they had to get out of there and try to find someplace else safe. She wouldn’t listen, and kept trying to rouse her boyfriend.

Chuck tried to physically move her, but she shoved him away. “Hands off, you fat fuck!” she’d screamed at him.

Knowing she was set in her ways, he decided to leave her behind and strike off on his own. As he was walking away, Vanessa was surprised to see that James had been resuscitated. Her screaming indicated that she was more surprised when he bit a huge chunk out of her neck. Chuck set off running after that.

As he reflected, Chuck realised he’d never run so much in his life. After the first block, he was tired. As he ran around the second block, he became exhausted. He thought he’d give up at the end of the third block, until he’d literally bumped into a zombie coming around the corner.

The dead man had been knocked to the ground by the unexpected assault, and for the first time in his life Chuck had been thankful for his prodigious girth. However, there were far more than just the first zombie around the corner, and they immediately set upon him. Chuck ran for eight more blocks without complaint, even though it might as well have been a marathon for him.

Miraculously, he’d been saved when a car had driven past him, swerving around the dozen zombies in the road. The driver had pulled over for Chuck and urged him to get inside. Wasting no time, Chuck had put on a burst of speed and found the safety of the stranger’s car.

The man inside was Chuck’s senior by about twenty years. In a sort of vague sense, he’d reminded him of his father. With his trimmed beard, glasses, and suit, he looked like he’d been a university professor. Chuck didn’t think to get his name, because the driver hurriedly informed him of his plan. He had a house in the suburbs where he had stockpiled supplies for a disaster. He’d expected a flood or blizzard, or maybe even invading Russians, but he felt his store would hold up in the face of zombies.

They never found out if it would. Shortly after arriving in the suburbs, the man gave began to give him a detailed inventory of supplies he’d kept in his basement. While he’d neglected to tell Chuck where exactly this valuable trove of goods was kept, he’d also neglected to keep an eye on the road. Moving at a terrific speed, the man’s car rolled over a monster pothole and blew out the tire. With the suddenly arrested momentum, the car swerved out of control and rolled over.

Counting three rotations before finally coming to a stop upside down, Chuck hadn’t been sure if he’d hold onto his lunch. What he was sure of, however, was that he was thankful he had been wearing his seatbelt. The man beside him, who had been prepared for any kind of disaster, had apparently not thought that simple act could save his life. His mangled body lay twisted over the broken windshield.

Assessing his injuries, Chuck didn’t think he’d broken anything. That was incredibly fortunate. He was less thrilled when he realised he’d have to unbuckle himself to get out. Regretting it as soon as he’d done it, Chuck fell to the ground. Righting himself as much as his above average size and the cramped interior of the car would allow, he reached up to open the door.

The crash had jammed the door shut. Before he could consider other options, Chuck heard the wail of the undead. They must have heard the wreck and were attracted to the sound. In a panic, Chuck reasoned he’d have to make it out the window. It had already broken in the crash, but now he tried to kick it out of the frame. It was hard work to gather up enough force in the interior of the car, but he kept hammering away at the window with his foot. Finally, it gave way and peeled out of the frame.

Once he’d accomplished that, Chuck realised what he’d done. There was no way a guy of his size could squeeze through that window. Cursing, Chuck could hear the snarling dead getting closer.

Looking around for another escape, he realised the back seats folded down. If that were the case, maybe he could escape out the trunk. He found the release on the floor of the car above his head and pulled. With a satisfying clunk, he heard the trunk open.

Before he could congratulate himself, Chuck saw the shadow of a nearby zombie through the window he’d kicked open. Hurrying now, he wedged himself between the front seats of the car. He made the mistake of looking over his shoulder and found a zombie crawling inside the wreck through the broken window.

In a full panic now, Chuck folded the seats down. Or up, depending on how he looked at it. They didn’t stow away into the floor as he’d hoped, but rather the top of the seat folded. With a sinking feeling of doom, Chuck realised the opening he’d made was barely larger around than the window he knew he couldn’t squeeze through. Regardless, he knew he had no choice and crammed himself into the opening.

A moment later, he was stuck in between the back seat and the trunk. He wriggled, kicked, and otherwise struggled to free himself. Without any luck, he felt the cold grip of the dead man on his leg. Lashing out with his foot, Chuck tried to kick at the unseen attacker behind him. His foot connected with something hard, but the dead man’s grasp clutched him still. Sucking in his gut, Chuck finally managed to pull himself into the trunk of the car, but not before an incredible pain shot through his leg.

To his horror, he realised he must have been bit. Rolling over onto his back, he looked through the opening and saw the zombie happily chewing away on the morsel it had ripped from his body. In a rage, Chuck kicked at its face with his good leg again and again, smashing the zombie’s head into a pulp.

All around him now, Chuck could hear the dead moan. His leg burned with pain, and he decided that one bite was enough. He had to get out of there before he became the main dish. Grabbing the edge of the trunk, Chuck pulled himself out of the car and tumbled to the ground. Pain flared in his leg, but the adrenaline was flowing through him now. Climbing to his feet, Chuck tested his leg. It pained him terribly, but his leg could still hold his weight.

Looking over his shoulder, Chuck counted more than a dozen zombies lurching towards him. Turning away, Chuck shuffled away as fast as he could. He was running downhill now, but it was even more difficult than when he had run for his life within the city.

When he started running, he was in agony. After the first block, however, the pain had all but vanished. As he staggered around the second block, he didn’t feel anything at all, not even fear of the zombies behind him. When he lurched around the third block, he almost bumped into a zombie coming around the corner again.

The zombie before him was a woman, wearing a soiled polka dot dress. She scrutinised his face. Teeth bared as her nose wrinkled to smell him. Dissatisfied, she pushed past him and continued on her way.

Chuck shuffled through the street at a relaxed pace. The zombies behind him caught up to him and surpassed him. Together they staggered aimlessly down the street. Chuck was one of the horde now. The mob of zombies wandered without direction, searching for their next meal.

The zombie formerly known as Chuck found himself strolling down a beach before long. A dreadful, insatiable hunger was welling inside of him, drowning out all other urges.

Across the howling wind and over the crashing surf, a shotgun blast boomed. As one, the zombies turned in the direction of the sound. It came from over the water. Together, they walked into the surf. Icy water washed over them, but if they felt it they didn’t care. All they knew was that they’d find food on the other side of the water.

Pathogen - Chapter 17

After a long and treacherous crossing, Grace found herself at the end of the breakwater. Crouching low and placing her free hand on the boulder to balance herself, she gently hopped to the stoney shore. Rocks crunched underfoot as she trudged up to the cliff face before her. Craning her neck, she estimated it to be about a twenty foot climb.

The shore on this side of Breakwater Point was small compared to the size of the island at large. A tiny, rocky beach was what the breakwater terminated at, but this side of the island was dominated by an almost sheer cliff. The slope on the opposite side of the island was far gentler, but was inaccessible by foot.

Aaron marched up behind her, basket in tow, with Cliff a short distance behind. Together they stared at the cliff ahead of them. There was no sign of the rope ladder they’d expected.

As was his custom, Aaron was the first to speak up. “Cliff,” he addressed his friend, “You’ve been here before, right?”

“Yeah, a couple of times,” Cliff nodded in the affirmative.

“Me too,” Aaron remarked, “But when I was here there was a ladder left behind so that people could get up here.”

“There should be one,” Cliff agreed, “But I don’t see it anywhere.”

Grace squinted up at the summit of the cliff. “I think I see it,” she declared.

Following her gaze, Aaron and Cliff looked up the cliff. Sure enough, they could make out an object above them. It was hard to tell exactly, but it may well have been a part of the rope ladder. It also could have been an overturned stone for all they could tell from this angle.

“Last bunch of partygoers must have taken it up after them,” Cliff assessed.

“And then what? How did they get back down?” Aaron asked.

“I don’t know,” Cliff shrugged, “Maybe one of their friends picked them up in a boat. It’s a lot easier to get up and down the other side.”

“No kidding,” Grace agreed despite never having set foot on the island before, “There’s no way we’re getting up there with our guns and food without the ladder.”

Aaron scratched his head, “So what are we supposed to do? Try the other side?”

“Yeah, okay,” Cliff laughed sarcastically, “I’ll hold your stuff while you swim around.”

Eyeballing the icy water gave Aaron the shivers. The conditions were positively stormy now, and he wasn’t sure he was physically capable of swimming around if the water wasn’t frigid.

“No thanks,” he told Cliff meekly.

Cliff looked over his shoulder. “Maybe we should go back to the shore,” he thought aloud, “Come up with a new plan, find a new place to hide out.”

“And become zombie chow? No thanks,” Grace disagreed as she offered her rifle to Cliff, “Hold my gun. I’m going to climb up there.”

Taking the gun, Cliff gave the cliff face another look, “Are you sure you want to do that? It doesn’t look totally safe, maybe I can go up ahead.”

Grace glared at Cliff and spat, “You don’t think I can do it because I’m a woman, is that it?”

“You think I must be sexist because I’m black,” Cliff retorted.

“Touché,” Grace smiled and any animosity vanished in an instant. “I’m still going to climb up there though. My gym has a rock wall.”

Cliff nodded and watched Grace approach the rock face. He didn’t know the first thing about rock climbing, but he was glad somebody did. The last thing he needed was to fall and break his legs. Looking back at the half obscured object on top of the cliff, he desperately wished it was the ladder they were looking for. If it wasn’t there, he wasn’t sure what they’d do.

Feigning nonchalance, Grace cracked her knuckles before looking for her first handhold. The idea of climbing without a rope made her uncomfortable. Gym rules strictly forbade it, so she’d never attempted it before. Come to think of it, this was also the first time she’d tried to climb a natural face as well. She wouldn’t have the bright coloured fake stone outcroppings to guide her up.

Shaking her head, she tried to clear her mind. Reaching up, she seized her first handhold. The rock was freezing cold, but she ignored it. She’d simply hurry up the face before the numbness set in and it wouldn’t be a problem. Reaching out for another hold, she slowly crawled up the cliff.

Grace was well on her way up the cliff when Aaron thought he might do well to encourage her. “Don’t fall,” he shouted after her.

Careful not to lose her grip, Grace turned in place to glare at Aaron. Even from a considerable distance, her gaze was potent. Aaron gulped and stared at his shoes.

Hand over hand she climbed. The stone was slippery, and she was careful to test her grip with each handhold and foothold. Twice she slipped after reaching for a crag, but she held firm to the cliff. Finally, panting from the exertion, she pulled herself up over the edge.

Struggling to stand on shaky legs, Grace rose to her feet. Looking about, she quickly found the object they had seen from the stoney shore below. Sure enough, it was a rope ladder. Constructed from a thick, braided rope, the ladder had wooden rungs spaced every foot or so apart. The last person up the cliff must have pulled it up after them and left it in a neat bundle. It was anchored in place with a piece of rebar driven into the ground. Grace reached down to the piece of steel and shook it to test its integrity. It wouldn’t budge, and she was hopeful it would hold her friends’ weight. Scooping up the ladder, she unbundled it and threw it over the precipice.

Cliff regarded the rope ladder. “I don’t know if it can hold our weight together. We should do this one at a time,” he assessed.

Aaron nodded, and hoisted the basket of goods over his shoulder. Reaching out for the ladder, he began to climb awkwardly with his one free hand. He was forced to let go of the rope each time he reached for a higher rung. He was only three feet off the ground when his burden unbalanced him. Dropping the basket as he fell backwards, Aaron flailed wildly with both arms as he tried to claw his way to a handhold. He fell heavily on his behind.

“Fuck,” he complained as he rubbed his butt, “That hurt.”

“Are you okay, buddy?” Cliff checked after his friend’s well being.

“Yeah,” Aaron decided as he climbed to his feet, “It’s going to be one hell of a bruise though.”

Grace peered over the side. “Did somebody fall? Are you guys okay?” she hollered down below.

“We’re fine,” Cliff shouted an explanation, “Aaron fell on his ass is all.”

Above them, they could hear Grace’s laughter. She was making no attempt to hide her amusement. Aaron reddened and looked away.

“Try climbing up again,” Cliff suggested, “But leave the food with me.”

Aaron was confused, and told his friend so, “But if we leave the food here, it won’t do us any good.”

“We’re not leaving it here,” Cliff explained, “We’ll tie it to the ladder and pull it up after us.”

“Oh,” Aaron noted as he rubbed his sore backside, “That would’ve been the clever thing to do.”

Once more, Aaron attempted to scale the cliff. This time, being unburdened, he climbed hand over hand with the agility of a monkey. He was standing with Grace after a few short moments.

“What gives?” she asked as he climbed to his feet, “Where’s all the food?”

“We’re going to pull it up with the ladder,” he let Grace in on the plan, “So I don’t fall off the cliff and die.”

“Okay,” Grace had to admit, “That’s a good idea.”

Down below, Cliff laid down the shotgun and rifle to get his hands free. He tied off the basket with the tail end of the rope ladder. Then, taking up Grace’s rifle under his arm, he climbed the ladder. It was difficult to keep hold of the gun, but at least he had both of his hands relatively free. He’d reach up with his free arm, then step up until his pinned arm was in line with the rung he’d reached to. It let him climb at a slow, halting pace, but it only took a few minutes to scale the rock face. When he made it to the top, he handed the rifle to its owner.

“Thanks,” Grace said as she took up the offered firearm, “Don’t forget your shotgun now.”

Cliff threw his hands up and exclaimed, “Geez, leave your weapon behind three times, and suddenly everybody’s making a fuss!”

While Cliff returned down to the beach, Grace and Aaron decided to explore the island. They were on the side nearer the lighthouse, which was a vast structure that stretched high above their heads. It was a wooden construction, which had once been painted mostly white with a red flourish at the summit. The paint had long since begin to peel, and great flakes and chips had been gouged out by the elements.

Apart from a lonely apple tree, the only other feature that dominated the island was the lighthouse keeper’s home. Like the lighthouse itself, the home had been abandoned, although more recently than the lighthouse itself was shut down. The keeper had stubbornly refused to leave the island, where his family had lived for many generations since the lighthouse was first constructed. After his death in the early 2000’s, the place had finally been given up.

The house was a small wooden bungalow. At one point, it had been green, although like the lighthouse itself, the paint had long since begun to peel. The windows had wooden shutters pulled over them and bolted fast. A brick chimney held fast to the side of the home, and had miraculously not crumbled to the elements. On the opposite side, a store of firewood was sheltered from the weather by a squat wooden lean-to. A stump for splitting wood was nearby, but there was no sign of an axe.

“So,” Grace asked, “Is it better to hole up in the tower, or the house?”

“The house,” Aaron explained as he pointed up at the chimney, “It’s got a fireplace, and I don’t know about you, but I’m colder than tits.”

Cliff had just climbed back up to their level. “Why don’t you guys see if you can find a way inside,” he suggested as he set down his shotgun and started pulling in the ladder, “I’m going to have the food up here in a minute or so.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Aaron agreed, thankful that he didn’t have to carry the heavy basket of food anymore.

Together Grace and Aaron walked up to the front door. Marching up a few short steps, Grace tried the door. To their disappointment, it was locked.

“That’s weird,” Aaron remarked, “I’ve never been here before and found the place locked up.”

“Maybe the last time there was a party here, one of their people locked the door?” she suggested.

“But then how did they get out?” Aaron retorted.

Grace shrugged. “Is there a back door?” she asked.

“Oh, yeah, there is,” Aaron reflected sheepishly, “That’d make sense.”

They hopped off the step and went around the building. A modest porch was on the back of the house, and they climbed up the steps to try this door. To their surprise, this one was locked too.

“What the hell?” Aaron asked, “How can this place be locked up? It’s been abandoned for years.”

“So it’s safe to say nobody has a key still,” Grace thought aloud.

“It just doesn’t make sense,” Aaron puzzled.

“Maybe the last people here wanted this to be their private hangout,” Grace reasoned, “Locked up after themselves, then climbed out a window. How about we split up and try all the windows. There’s got to be one that’s open.”

Aaron nodded, and they set off in opposite directions around the house. Each window was shuttered, and locked fast. Disappointed, the two met by the front door again. Grace looked up and saw one more window. There must have been a bedroom on the second floor, or maybe it was just the attic. Regardless, the shutter was closed, but it was impossible to tell if it was locked or not.

Following Grace’s gaze, Aaron put two and two together. “Oh no,” he insisted, “I’m not climbing up there. Last time I climbed in through a window, there was a zombie in my face.”

“So we’ll break in the front door,” Grace decided.

“Oh yeah? How are we going to manage that?” Aaron asked.

Without a word, Grace reached into her coat pocket and retrieved her wallet. She pulled a small case from within. Opening it up, Aaron saw it was a lockpicking set.

“Holy shit,” he remarked, “You have a lockpick? Are you a burglar and never told us?”

Grace laughed, “No, just a hobby. You know how some people juggle? I thought I’d take this up.”

“Oh,” Aaron fought to hide his disappointment, “But you do know how to pick a lock?”

“Not exactly,” Grace admitted, “I just bought these yesterday and haven’t had a chance to try them out yet.”

Kneeling in front of the lock, Grace set to work. She selected a pair of tools from her case and inserted these in the lock. Wiggling and probing, she tried to get the lock to turn.

“So what’s the appeal?” Aaron asked.

“Huh?” Grace was focused on the lock before her, and had already tuned Aaron out.

“Why do you want to pick locks? I don’t get it.”

“Oh, well, it’s like a puzzle I guess. You try to get the tumblers into position and then open the thing up. It’s a challenge, and some people find that soothing.”

“I see,” Aaron still didn’t get it, “Well, as long as you’re having fun I guess.”

A few minutes later, Grace was not having fun. She’d started cursing at the lock, which refused to turn for her.

“So much for soothing,” Aaron said to himself.

Cliff walked up to the house, gun in hand and food in tow. “What’s going on here? Why aren’t we inside?” he asked.

“The whole place is locked up,” Aaron explained.

“Weird,” remarked Cliff.

“No kidding,” Aaron agreed, “Grace is picking the lock open.”

Cliff was surprised, “Really? Grace knows how to pick locks?”

“Fucking piece of shit!” Grace shouted at the door.

“I don’t think so,” Aaron answered.

“Get away from the door,” Cliff instructed.

Reluctantly, Grace gave up and stepped back. Aaron got behind Cliff as he let go of their provisions and levelled the shotgun at the door. Aiming for the lock, he squeezed the trigger. Thunder erupted from the shotgun, and the sheer force of the buckshot punched the lock through the door. On noisy hinges the door creaked open.

“I’ve got your lockpick right here,” Cliff remarked as he ejected the spent shell casing from his gun, “I call it a shotgun.”

Pathogen - Chapter 16

Clambering up over the rocks, Cliff was greeted by Aaron and Grace. They were standing over him with faces plastered with expressions of concern.

Grace asked what they were both thinking, “Where’s Steve?”

“He’s gone,” Cliff muttered as he wrenched his shotgun out from between the rocks he’d lodged it into.

“Gone?” she pressed, “What do you mean, ‘gone?’”

“It means he isn’t here anymore,” Cliff explained as he cast his eyes over the rocky waves, “The ocean took him.”

Cliff thought it was best to leave out the details of Steve’s reanimation. He felt it might preserve Steve’s memory with a little dignity. Grace and Aaron were still stunned by the news, however. Struggling against the tears welling in her eyes, Grace turned away to look over the water too. Aaron, however, simply gaped with a stupefied expression on his face.

“I did not see that coming,” he admitted, “I thought for sure he’d become a zombie. Or maybe that he’d eat a gun after all.”

Turning to Aaron in order to regard him with a cool animosity, Cliff said, “You shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”

“I’m not illing,” Aaron insisted, “It’s just what I thought would happen.”

“Still,” Cliff sadly shook his head, “I think you should be quiet for a while.”

Thinking it best not to push Cliff, Aaron complied and remained silent for a moment. Together the three of them stared out over the ocean. The icy water roiled and crashed while the wind howled all around them. Cliff wondered what had  happened to Steve in his watery tomb. Would he be adrift and swept up with the ocean’s currents, or would he wander the bottom of the sea floor as a zombie forever? Cliff shivered, but it wasn’t the weather that made him feel cold inside.

“He was going to become a zombie, wasn’t he?” Aaron spoke up, forgetting he was ordered to silence.

Cliff turned to glare at Aaron. “You have a problem with keeping quiet,” he snapped.

Throwing his hands up in protest, Aaron argued, “Hey now, I’m just trying to make sense of it all. Steve was sick, that much was obvious enough. But that kid in the DepartMart was sick too, and he turned up as a zombie a few minutes later.”

“So what?” Cliff asked impatiently. He didn’t care for the practicality of Aaron’s questions. All that mattered to him right now was respecting his deceased friend. Everything else could take a backseat for the moment.

“So,” Aaron pressed on unmindful of his friend’s agitation, “How’d he get it? What made him sick? Was he bit?”

“No,” Grace replied as she wiped her tears on her sleeve, “At least, I don’t remember him being bitten.”

“The kid’s mom was bit, and so was the guy who worked at the DepartMart,” Aaron reasoned, “And they turned pretty quick. The dude who worked there became a zombie in just seconds.”

“Steve was sick for at least an hour,” Grace argued, “So no, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t bit.”

“Maybe it’s airborne,” Aaron figured, “We could all catch it then.”

“Stop,” Grace protested, shaking her head and screwing her eyes shut, “I don’t want to think about that.”

Aaron began, “I’m just saying-”

“I’m just saying, ‘shut up!’ Christ!” Grace interrupted.

Aaron clammed up. Now he’d gone and upset two of his friends, and the other one was dead. He sighed, a melancholy sound that couldn’t be heard over the surf crashing into the breakwater. It was his turn now to stare out over the ocean.

It was a long minute before Cliff broke the friends’ silence. “I don’t think we’re sick,” he reassured Grace as well as himself, “We’d have some kind of symptom by now. After all, the thing seems to work pretty fast.”

“What, are you a doctor now?” Aaron asked.

“No,” Cliff shook his head, “Just optimistic.”

“I’m scared, man,” Aaron admitted, “What if we all end up like Steve?”

“Not gonna happen,” Cliff argued.

“But how do you know?” Aaron persisted.

Cliff turned to face Aaron before explaining his reasoning, “I don’t know for sure. But I do know that worrying about it isn’t going to make it go away. Hell, for all I know, worrying about it is just going to make things worse. So I’m not going to think happy thoughts, and none of us are going to get sick.”

“Do you see that?” Cliff asked as he pointed to the island ahead, only a few hundred metres away, “That’s safety. That place is going to be our fortress. They’ll never touch us there, not in a million years. Then maybe the coast guard will show up, and take us out of here. Or the military will come. Hell, maybe it’ll just be a few kids, and they say that the zombies have all been cleaned up. We’re going to live.”

Although Cliff was well pleased with his little speech, Aaron was less than inspired. The ocean had soaked him through, and he was freezing cold. Screaming wind cut him to the bone. The crashing waves thundered around him. All about him, his surrounding screamed violence and desolation.

Now that they were away from the glow of the city, countless stars twinkled overhead. When he was a little boy, the stars gave Aaron a feeling of wonderment. Back then, the infinitely large night sky captivated him with thoughts of endless adventures and exploration. Now, it filled him with an oppressive loneliness.

“Let’s just get out of here,” he murmured. “I’m not digging this place at all.”

“I second the motion,” Grace shivered, “It’s cold as balls here.”

Grace and Aaron left together, leaving Cliff alone on his rock. He was numb to the cold, and deaf to the breaking surf and howling wind. Staring out over the sea, he was desperate to see Steve once more. Minutes passed, and there still wasn’t any sign of him below the surface.

“Goodbye, friend,” Cliff bid his final farewell before hurrying to catch up with his surviving friends. They still had a lot of work to do if they wanted to survive.