 
## **Contents**

Before the Cure

Copyright

Acknowledgements

PART ONE

Thank you!

Other Books

Before the Cure

Deirdre Gould
Before the Cure

Copyright 2020 Deirdre Gould

All rights are reserved to the author. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any manner whatsoever without written permission except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles or reviews.

This is a work of fiction. Names, character, places and incidents are either the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
For my cousin Brian, who always makes me think harder about the world of After the Cure and keeps me excited to write in it and for my friend Laura, who always kicked me under the table for my own good.

Special thanks to Neil Newton, Randi J., Cody S., Shay V., Harlain T. For letting me use and abuse their names and to Jon F. For lending me "bunnypop" and Sonja C. For lending me Dante

And to Vicki M., Wendy T., Laura H., Cody S., Michael G., Marie F., Bronwen S., Sonja C., Brian B., Rosalina S., Mark R., Jessica B., Stacy R., Gina P., Adrienne L., Donna L., Angela W., Aletia M. and always my sister, Siobhan. You fixed my timeline, prevented my characters from sounding petty, told me when I was giving too much away too early, caught my typos and kept me sane. You're all wonderful and I could not do this without you!

PART ONE

1

Furbish Park was massive and Neil hadn't been willing to pay the outrageous parking fee to get them closer to the parade muster point. So he and Randi hurried across the lightly wooded west end, the sun barely pinking the horizon. Plumes of breath puffed from them both and the grass crunched under his boots. Neil hadn't been paying attention, too focused on getting them across the park to take note of their surroundings. So it startled him when the man on the bench rose from beneath the tattered olive sleeping bag he'd been huddled under. He flashed Randi a lopsided, snaggletooth smile. Neil instinctively jerked his daughter's hand, pulling the little girl closer.

"Won't hurt cha," the man mumbled, still smiling. His eyes were glassy and he swayed in place. Neil wondered if he were drunk or just still waking up. He glanced at Neil. "Good-mornin'" he offered cautiously.

Neil gave him a tight nod and flushed, embarrassed by his own uneasiness and a sense of guilt that the man had been forced to sleep on a frigid bench.

"Awful col' day for a parade," said the man, staring at Neil's gloves. "Good you got her all bundled there." He pointed toward Randi and Neil thought he meant to close the small distance and touch his daughter's head. He stepped swiftly sideways, blocking the man's line of sight with Randi. The homeless man's smile dropped at the action. He took a step back toward the bench and pulled up the slumped pile of sleeping bag, folding it haphazardly.

"Sure is," said Neil. "You have somewhere to go, sir?"

It took the man a few extra seconds to answer and he blinked blearily before saying, "Oh, ayuh. Shelter'll reopen at three." He shoved the sleeping bag into a backpack and picked it up.

Neil glanced over his shoulder at his daughter. She looked nervously up at him. "It's so cold. Why's he got no mittens?" she whispered.

He heaved an internal sigh and turned back to the man, tugging his gloves from his fingers. "Here," he said, holding them out. "Too cold to wander around all day without."

"What 'bout you?" asked the man. Neil shrugged.

"I've got pockets."

The man took the gloves and pulled one slowly over his right hand. He tipped a little too far sideways and lost his balance. Neil caught him by the shoulder.

"Whoa there," he said quietly. He pulled his wallet from his pocket, though he knew it was stupid, risky— the whole thing could have been a con to grab the wallet. But the man only stood there, blinking at him, as if stunned. Neil pulled out a twenty-dollar bill. "Go get yourself some breakfast. I think the Homestead's open. Warm there. They won't kick you out if you order something. Kill the time before the shelter opens." Sober you up and stop you touching any of the other little kids going to the parade, Neil thought sourly, but then felt an immediate wave of shame.

"Well I— thank you," said the man. He took the bill with a slight bob of his head. "Happy holidaysss," he added.

Neil knew he meant it kindly, but it felt like a slap, comparing what this man's holidays would likely be to what Neil's own. "Have a good day," he said instead.

The man turned back to the path and stumbled sideways again. Neil reached out for him again and the man tumbled right into his chest. "Take it easy," Neil said quietly, righting him.

"Sssomethin's wrong," frowned the man.

"You get something bad last night?" asked Neil. "You need me to call an ambulance?"

The man shook his head. "No. No ambulance. No police. Be right in a bit. Get sssome coffee..." he began wandering off, still muttering. Neil straightened his coat and watched him for a few seconds before turning to check on his daughter.

"What's wrong Dad?" Randi asked him, still folded against his legs.

"Not a thing, sweetheart. Just helping someone out."

Neil's hand felt itchy where he'd touched the man's shoulder. He wiped it self-consciously on the side of his coat, knowing it was just a trick of his mind but feeling it anyway. "But you're scared," said Randi looking up at him.

Neil patted her shoulder. "It's just not a good idea to talk to strangers. Some of them turn out— ok. Like that man. Some of them want to hurt you, though. And you can't always tell. But it all worked out for the best. Come on now, we don't want to be late or Mom will find us before you even see the floats. And Brinybrickle will take off without me." He caught Randi's hand again. He wanted to move them along, get farther away from the homeless man who was still shambling toward the far road and distract his daughter from more questions about the episode. Randi let him lead her toward the parade route, gawking at the large balloons under their thick nets as they passed. The bands were warming up farther on, stamping their feet and blasting the brass horns just to move some warm air around while they waited. Joan found them near the float, her sad smile already setting him on edge.

"You wait long?" he asked, trying to brush off the irrational spike of annoyance. This was supposed to be a good day. For Randi. Two years ago we would have been doing this together. Laughing. Joan would be in her favorite jeans and those ridiculously bright rainbow gloves of hers. Not this drab, plastic version with the disappointed smile. He snapped off the thought. It wasn't his business what she wore. Or how she smiled. Not anymore. This would be easier if she seemed happy, he realized.

"No, just walked up from the toy store. Harry's saving us a spot."

He nodded, his own smile tight. "Good choice. I should be back here by one, that's what the captains told us. It's a long time to wait. I can meet you at the restaurant, if you'd rather, pick Randi up there."

Joan frowned down at her watch. "Here's probably better. Traffic and all. Our flight to Bermuda is at four and the airport's going to be awful."

"Right. Here's fine then." Bermuda. Ten years, she never said a word about Bermuda. Guess summer weekends in Popham's just not the same, he thought but shoved it quickly aside. Be nice. Randi's day, remember. He bent to hug his daughter. "Have fun! And don't forget, you're supposed to cheer Brinybrickle this year."

She laughed. "No Dad, Brinybrickle's the bad guy. I'm going to boo." She yanked on his collar to pull his head farther down. "But I'm not booing you. Just a secret cheer," she whispered.

"Okay," he agreed. "Secretly cheer then."

Joan smiled and for once, it was a real one. It made his heart ache more than the sad, polite smile did. Wish she'd smile like that more. Wish Harry'd figure out the trick because I've forgotten how. He let go of Randi's hand and waved to Joan as they headed off. His daughter had been too distracted to ask anything more about the homeless man, but now they'd have to stand near the toy store for a while staring at the empty street until the parade started. He didn't envy Joan having to explain when Randi's questions inevitably started again. He headed back to the park.

The Brinybrickle balloon snarled out at him from its net, the black reels of its tethers already lying neatly in a large circle around it. The enormous elf looked more silly than menacing at the moment, its tall pointed ears pressed almost horizontal by the heavy net. A large, too cheerful man in a black and green vest popped up beside Neil as he stared at the balloon.

"I hope you brought gloves," he said.

Neil glanced down at his hands again, wiped the one that had touched the homeless man's shoulder against his thigh. "Sorry, Evan. I had them but this guy in the park was freezing..."

Evan shrugged and reached into his pocket. "Shomeone— someone always forgets. I have spares." He handed Neil a pair of thin black gloves. "Where's your balloon buddy?"

"Haven't seen Dante yet this morning," said Neil, pulling the gloves on. "But I'm sure he'll be here."

"Get into position, anyway. He can catch up. We've got about fifteen minutes before the netsh come off and we have to stabilize Brinybrickle." Evan shook his head slightly as if he were trying to clear it, then checked off Neil's name on his little clipboard and moved away to the next arrival. Did everyone get sloshed this morning except me? Neil wondered. It wasn't something he'd expect from Evan though; the guy was too straight-laced. Probably only had a beer at the company picnic or something like that. But he was weaving a little as he walked away and the slurring was slight but definitely there. It's the holidays, he told himself. Cut him a little slack. Probably make the whole morning more relaxed anyway.

Neil wandered over to the net, lifting it slightly to duck beneath and find the cord he'd been assigned to.

He stamped his feet to knock some warmth into his legs and scanned the distant crowd though he knew Joan and Randi were much too far for him to see.

"Fucking traffic," huffed Dante, yanking up the edge of the net with one hand and sloshing coffee from a cup in the other. "Got here as quick as I could."

"Uh, Mr. Owens," called Evan from somewhere nearby "here on the Brinybrickle sssupport team, we need to refrain from colorful language—"

"Sorry, boss," said Dante, mock saluting. "I thought with him being, you know, an evil elf bent on destroying Santa that a little f-bomb would be in character."

Neil laughed. Evan jogged over and lowered his voice.

"This is a family parade, Mr. Owens. It'sh an honor to pilot a balloon in the Children's Parade and one that many others—"

"Ok, ok," sighed Dante. "Relax Evan. I get it. I'll watch my mouth."

Evan looked at him skeptically until he noticed one of the other handlers got a cord tangled with someone else's and he dashed away. Dante just picked up the cord near Neil's foot. "Would've thought he'd be looser when he was tipsy," he muttered.

"You noticed too?" asked Neil.

"Sure. I mean you add a few more s-words in there and— Jesus, you don't think he's having a stroke, do you?"

Neil watched Evan help another handler rewind her reel. "I— don't think so. I mean you get a headache, right? He'd notice, wouldn't he?"

"Not sure. I didn't smell any alcohol on him, did you?"

"No. Nothing at all." It occurred to Neil that he hadn't smelled any on the homeless man either, and the man's face had gotten quite close when he'd taken the gloves. "Maybe we should call someone."

Dante shook his head. "His face looks ok. Not saggy or anything. That's supposed to be a sign, right? And he's making sense. Probably just a little hungover. Chomped a couple breath mints and hoped no one would notice. And he's cranky this morning."

"He's always cranky."

"Maybe that's why."

Neil doubted it. But he watched Evan a few more minutes and he didn't seem to be acting out of the ordinary. No visible signs of distress. Probably just tired. It's early and he likely got here hours ago. Man's entitled to be a little groggy without everyone thinking he's on the verge of collapse.

"Is Randi here?" asked Dante.

"Yeah. Joan and Harry have her near the toy store. She's a little upset about cheering for Brinybrickle, though."

Dante turned halfway around and made a face at the surly expression of the balloon. "Can't blame her. Look at him. Wouldn't want to cheer that sourpuss either. Tommy's down by the far end, near the arcade. We told him to stay put but you know how it is. He and his friends probably won't even watch until we get there."

Evan returned, patting other handlers' shoulders along the way. "All right Dante, finish up that coffee. The marshal's about to kick things off and we've got to stabilize our star." He winked at Neil who managed an embarrassed smile. "Oh and— cups in the recycling bin please! No one likesss a litterbug, not even Brinybrickle." Evan stumbled for a second as he moved away, Neil caught him and righted him. Evan frowned at the pavement, expecting a crack or divot but shrugged and kept heading toward the front when he saw only smooth tar. At the time, Neil didn't connect it to the homeless man's stumbling. There'd been nothing on the news yet about the December Plague. And there wouldn't be for several days more. It would take even longer for the word to spread to the general public about the subtler symptoms. Longer than Neil had, anyway.

"Littering's kind of his thing, he throws old broken toys in Santa's way to slow him down," muttered Dante under his breath, but he held out the reel to Neil. Dante jogged away, looking for the bins. He loved the parade, Neil knew, despite the complaining. The band started up again somewhere ahead, this time falling into a jazzy, well-rehearsed version of Jingle Bells. Dante sprinted back, fumbling with the net.

"Relax," laughed Neil, "We've got a dozen balloons in front of us. It'll be half an hour before we even start moving."

2

A slow rattling noise dragged by them as the net was pulled from the balloon. Evan tripped over the edge of the net and went down near the balloon's right shoulder. He started shouting as the handlers closest helped him up. Dante frowned.

"Must have really hurt himself," he said. "Evan doesn't yell. Complain and nitpick, sure, but not yell."

"Maybe we should have called the medics."

But the balloon captain subsided and began giving instructions as Brinybrickle shifted one way and then another until the large crew had it hovering and level just above the large pines in Furbish Park. The world beneath the balloon was a sickly lime green where the sunlight leaked through, wavering and shifting like water. The band's music receded, fading little by little until it seemed more memory than sound. The sound of feet ahead replaced it, and the squeak of one of the ground float's brakes as it rolled slowly forward. By the time it was their turn, Neil's toes were frozen and Dante was bouncing foot to foot to keep some blood moving. It was an odd sort of irritated relief to move forward. Part excitement, part frustration, as if Neil were not in a parade, but a traffic jam, craning to see what the hold up was.

That was just until they hit the crowd. The cold and the frustration vanished as they passed hundreds of awed kids. The cheers and applause were a little overwhelming for Neil, each section of kids and parents waving and calling as they passed, as if it were a massive swell that grew and receded, taking Brinybrickle and his handlers with it, never quite dying away. Until they came to a quiet section. Frightened kids cringing against their parents.

"Jeez, I know Brinybrickle's kind of a jerk," said Dante, "but I don't think I've ever seen kids scared of him."

"It's not the balloon," said Neil, raising one hand from the reel to point into the crowd where several people in blue uniforms surrounded something, their backs entirely to the parade. "Fight maybe?"

"F—" Dante caught himself. "Silly drunks," he amended. "Think that's the Whaler back there. Didn't think they were open this early."

"I didn't think so either. Looks dark, but it's a bar so... Who knows? Maybe it's a fender bender that got out of hand in the parking lot. Or a domestic. Or just some parents arguing over a prime position."

Dante stared at the policemen as they passed the knot of people. Neil could hear a massive burst of applause from behind and knew that Santa's sleigh must have finally entered the road, and with it, the conclusion to the parade. His fingers ached with the cold. The gloves Evan had lent him were too thin. They barely shielded his hands either from the chill or the biting plastic of the reel as the breeze tugged the massive balloon. Still, better than nothing. He could just see the large, vibrant green of the storefront where Joan and Randi should be. And Harry. He shut off that dangerous line of thought.

"Fans just ahead," he told Dante. "Out front of Granby's."

Dante grinned. "Think she'll boo us?"

Neil laughed. "I'm not sure. She said she'd be secretly chee—" he broke off as he caught a glimpse of a familiar figure standing at the edge of the road. He was beyond the security barrier, listing unevenly on the dark tar like a lost marcher from somewhere farther up. But his dirty jacket and ragged pants put him squarely outside the norm. Why isn't security at least putting him back behind the barricade? Neil wondered. Forget security— where are Joan and Randi? Did he follow them? How did he—

"What's wrong?" asked Dante.

"That guy," Neil leaned toward Dante's ear to mutter. "The one just ahead in the street. Ran into him in the park earlier. He tried to talk to Randi." Neil shook his head as Dante stared at the man. "Probably harmless. Drunk though, for sure. Just creeped me out. Gave him some cash and my gloves and told him to go someplace warm. I'll feel better when we get to Joan and Randi."

Dante craned around to look behind them. "All the cops are back at that fistfight or whatever it was."

"Really, I'm sure he's fine. He backed off easily enough. Don't think he wanted to, you know, take her or anything."

"You sure?" Dante glanced at him. It must have been obvious from his face how Neil actually felt, because Dante immediately said, "No, you aren't sure. And if it's not Randi, there are a thousand other little girls in this crowd." He glanced back once more, looking for security. Then he leaned past Neil. "Hey!" he shouted, his voice just another in the sea of music and cheering and feet stamping. "Hey, you!"

"He hasn't really done anything, Dante. Just a guy down on his luck. Could be us. Almost was, a few years ago."

"Maybe. Do you want to risk it? Looks to me like he was following Randi. Waiting to catch her when you and Joan were distracted."

Neil couldn't deny how uncomfortable the man made him. And that he had come so close to Granby's made it worse. Maybe Dante was right. "I'll just call parade security," he said, trying to hold onto the reel with one hand and fumble in his pocket for his phone with the other. The line wobbled slightly. "Evan gave us that number if we saw anything bad—"

"Yeah, yeah you do that. I'm going to take care of this so we don't lose him in the crowd," said Dante absentmindedly. He let go of the reel and took a few steps toward the homeless man. Brinybrickle bounced and Neil abandoned his search for his cell phone and gripped with both hands. "Don't, man, I'm sure everything's fine."

"Just going to talk. That's all," said Dante absently. Evan glared over at them, alarmed by the unexpected movement, but they were moving into a spinning maneuver and he was too busy directing the handlers to come and correct the problem.

"Dante," called Neil, following the arcing curve of the other handlers. "Dante, come back!"

But Dante was shouting to the homeless man, trying to catch his attention. The man's face was utterly blank. Passive. Neil glanced back over his shoulder and caught a glimpse of the man's hands before the path of the balloon became more acute and he had to pay attention to the road in front of him. He'd had only one of Neil's gloves on. Just the way he had as he'd taken the twenty from Neil's hand. The other glove dangling between his fingers still. Don't be ridiculous, Neil told himself, he obviously just took the glove off again a minute ago. That's all. It disturbed him more than it should have.

Evan was ahead, still directing the balloon but his gaze was elsewhere. On Dante and the homeless man, most likely. Even from the far side of the street, Neil could hear Dante's raised voice intermittently between the chatter of the crowd. The balloon stopped to waggle an inflated arm in fury back at Santa's sleigh and Neil took the opportunity to peer through the web of cords beneath toward the toy store, hoping for some glimpse of Joan. For some signal that she and Randi were okay. Don't panic, he scolded himself. Of course they're fine. Just a homeless man who needs a bed. Just wandered downtown. Not hurting anyone. They were moving again, rotating back. Neil dutifully marched the slow arc, gripping the plastic reel tighter as a sudden gust slid under the balloon's belly and began pulling it upward. He concentrated on holding his line level, pressing his weight downward, so he missed a few of the next vital seconds.

It was the collective gasp of the crowd that made him look down from Brinybrickle's pickle-green pants. Dante was still in front of the homeless man, who seemed not to have moved an inch, nor focused on Dante in the least, still staring vacantly at something across the road. But Evan had joined Dante now. Neil squinted and saw Dante was holding Evan by the arm. Perhaps "join" was the wrong word. Evan was lunging for the homeless man. His normally placid, friendly face strained and deep red in an open-mouthed howl. Neil had a flash of fear that the balloon pilot was having a heart attack right there on the road before Dante lost his grip and Evan tripped into the homeless man, sending them both careening into the metal barrier. The tumble seemed to shake the other man from his stupor and he grappled with Evan, who had not stopped, his teeth snapping shut on the homeless man's cheek. The barrier slid with a rumble as they struggled and the crowd pressed instinctively away. There was little space to move, though, and it only created about a foot of space between the people on the edge of the mass and Evan. The homeless man yelped and shoved at Evan's head. Dante tried to pry his way in between the two men and Neil's immediate thought was to help, his grip on the tether loosening until the cries from the other handlers stopped him and the balloon wobbled, making waves of green light over the entire thing.

"Don't let go!" the man in front of him turned to shout. "You let go and a lot more people are going to get hur—" He broke off with a surprised grunt as the homeless man plowed into him and knocked him over. His partner on the reel let go to help when the homeless man snarled and clawed at the downed handler. Neil's reel yanked with the sudden release of one of the cords. Several people had climbed over the barrier to help. Neil didn't understand what he was seeing. Evan had turned his rage on Dante for some unfathomable reason and had sunk his teeth into Dante's jacketed arm. He wouldn't let go despite the group of people trying to separate them and Dante's own attempt to pull his arm free. Another yank as more tethers were abandoned as people ran to help the combatants struggling beneath Brinybrickle. The evil elf tipped toward Neil for a second and a breeze gusted beneath and the balloon slid rapidly, dragging Neil and the remaining handlers sideways. Most of the crowd was far more interested in the fights than they were in the fate of the balloon. Neil saw enough to know that Dante was bleeding, but not how badly or where the other combatants were. The wind picked up again and he stumbled backward, lifted slightly from his feet by the balloon. He could hear the panicked yells for help from other handlers who hadn't let go. His back hit the metal barricade and half a dozen arms shot out to grab onto the tether.

"The reel, hold the reel," he cried. The hands shifted, helping him to push down on the reel.

"Sit down," commanded someone behind him. "More stable that way." Someone pushed his shoulder and Neil obediently buckled onto the freezing tar. A few of the hands resolved into terrified faces as they shoved aside the barrier and joined him. More streamed into the road to help the handlers, some people darting toward the clumps of fighting instead. The breeze gusted and a crash of breaking glass came from overhead. A few screams from the crowd and then a steady squeal of helium rapidly exiting small holes in Brinybrickle. Neil resisted the urge to look up, expecting an eyeful of glass shards if he did.

"Where the fuck is security," growled a man across from him. Neil shook his head.

"Saw some two blocks back dealing with a fight, but that shouldn't be all of them. And this seems a little more—" he broke off as the wind gusted again, yanking on his tired arms. The balloon flapped as it began slackening in the middle. He could hear voices through speakers nearby now, police trying to corral the crowd. A vehicle must have been close by, the strobe of blue lights mixing with the yellow-green of the sunlight through the translucent balloon. It made a strange glow over them all. The balloon collapsed slowly, settling and drooping toward Neil, cutting him off from any view of the crowd and then of the other handlers. It was still full enough that he couldn't risk releasing the reel. A few of the people sitting with him did, though, standing to hold up the sagging plastic, creating a small tent of air.

"Take shallow breaths," commanded a woman in front of him. "Most of the helium will go up but some's going to be trapped under here with us. Help me find the edge," she said to someone farther up, "get fresh air in here until help comes." The crowd sounded distant, muffled by the thick material. Neil had a second of uneasy calm and time to worry whether Joan and Randi were safe. He hoped Randi hadn't seen any of it. That she was still laughing and pointing at the toymaker float ahead. The balloon shifted again, this time violently and repeatedly.

"Shit," muttered the woman next to him, pressing down on the reel with him. "Are they fighting on top of the vinyl?"

The crack of a gunshot burst through the cocoon of plastic as if in answer. And then multiple screams.

"My kids!" cried one of the men holding up the balloon. He started toward the edge of the balloon, following the others.

"All of our kids," said another. The wail of a siren blared through the crowded street. She's down the road. She's out of sight. Safe, Neil kept telling himself, mostly to stave off utter panic.

"Think it's down enough," said Neil after the siren abruptly cut out. "We can let go and stand on top now. At least we'll be able to see that way." He released the reel and clutched the plastic above him instead, making his way toward the opening the woman had made. The others followed in a train. He pushed aside the heavy material and began rolling it back, trying to push against it, sending little pockets of helium puffing away toward holes. There were other small lumps on the edges of the balloon where other handlers were holding on. The elf's leering head, still bouncing and bulbous, blocked Neil's view of the spot where Dante had last been standing. A large section of the balloon's chest was being cut away by officers, near a writhing, shrieking mass that wriggled beneath it. Much of the crowd had been moved back and Neil found himself in a mostly clear space. It changed quickly, officers sprinting toward them. Neil was horrified to see a few with drawn weapons. He held up his hands instinctively. The people who had followed him out did the same.

"Get down!" one of the officers bellowed and Neil dropped on top of Brinybrickle's foot. A pillow of helium sank beneath him. A flurry of footsteps tramped through the plastic around him and then hands patting his legs, his chest, then retreating.

"Where do you guys think we got a weapon?" muttered a man next to Neil.

"Nobody even needed one to do this," said Neil.

"Stay down!" yelled an officer above them. Neil pressed the bulge of plastic that sat in front of his face, pushing it away so he could see. A large flap had been cut in the chest and was being yanked away. The people beneath were bloody and still struggling. One was lying motionless a little apart from the others. Neil wondered if it were the person who'd been shot or someone else. And if they were dead. He was ashamed to realize how relieved he was to see that it wasn't Dante. He watched the police officers try to wrangle the others apart. A few peeled off and were taken somewhere near the head of the balloon, but a tight knot of fighters remained, a tangle of limbs and torn clothing. It took several seconds for Neil to pick out the sound of them from the general chaos. At last, he realized they were growling. Low, rippling grunts without any kind of meaning. The officers shouted more warnings over the noise and then one of the figures jerked and stiffened before falling. Then another. Two more as the officers fired tasers into their backs. Something wriggled under the heavy vinyl a few feet to Neil's left.

"Hey!" cried the man next to him, "There's somebody under there." The man rose to his knees.

"Stop! You need to stay put," barked the officer who was still hovering over them, nervously pointing a gun at the remaining combatants as the other security continued to subdue them.

"There's someone under the balloon," protested the man. "Look! That vinyl is hundreds of pounds. And the helium trapped under there— they'll suffocate."

Neil looked over his shoulder at the policeman and watched him glance at the writhing lump. "We just have to roll back the plastic," offered Neil. "Just a foot or two so they can see where to crawl out. It's heavy. If it's a kid who ran in or something—"

The policeman nodded once. It was all the permission Neil needed. He and the man beside him crouched just below the policeman's raised arm and tugged at the vinyl. The helium pockets made it easier for a few seconds, but they soon slithered away, escaping to other sections of the balloon as they rolled the thick material.

"This way, buddy, come toward us," called the man. Neil struggled to lift the bulky edge a foot or two so that some light and air would reach the lump which had slowed markedly in the seconds it took them to start trying to reach it. The lump seemed to revive at the sudden rush of air that puffed beneath the fabric and it snaked its way toward them, grunting with the effort. Or— Neil had thought it was a grunt. Years later he'd wonder if it had been a growl instead. He should have recognized his own glove as it emerged from beneath the balloon and reached toward them. But the policeman was shouting again and Neil could hear Dante's voice groaning somewhere nearby. Some panicked instinct shorted out his rational thought, convincing him it was Dante's hand reaching toward him, that it was Dante's glove dripping dark blood, smearing it on the bright green vinyl and Neil reached to grasp the extended hand and haul the lump free. The face that emerged was not Dante's. It was the homeless man's from that morning. Gasping and scrabbling at him.

"It's okay, man, you're okay. Gonna get you cle—" Neil broke off trying to soothe him as the man lunged up from the street and toppled him to the pavement with a cry. The first bite was on Neil's sleeve. Hard and bruising but the wool of his coat was too thick for the man's crumbling teeth and Neil managed to push him off for an instant. "Relax!" shouted Neil. "Not trying to hurt you!" The man who had been helping him raise the balloon's edge cried out in shock and the policeman glanced down. The homeless man clamped down on Neil's bare hand and his teeth tore into the calloused skin of his palm. Neil shouted at the crushing pain and smacked at the man's head, just trying to get him to release. The policeman yelled a warning. The other balloon handler cried for the policeman to wait, not to shoot.

Almost irrationally, Neil had thought of Randi as a baby. The way she'd bite Joan while she nursed when her teeth started coming in. How Joan would yelp and instinctively tense. She never slapped. Of course she didn't. Neil didn't know how she remembered not to. The need to lash back was almost instinctual. The thought snapped away as the homeless man ground his teeth against the muscle tissue in Neil's hand and he kicked the man as hard as he could. It worked for an instant, the man grunted and let go. Neil rolled away as the homeless man sat up with a horrendous howl of rage. The policeman yelled for him to stop but the homeless man lunged again and then— it wasn't the sound. That was almost an afterthought, the crack of the gun, the tingling smell of gunpowder hanging there for a second after. The continued shouts of the police— those were all secondary. It was the feel of the warm, humid spray of blood that struck Neil first. And the terror that it was his own as he instinctively crouched. The homeless man collapsed beside him. It took a few more seconds to understand that the blood on his face and jacket wasn't Neil's. That though he was registering intense pain, it was from the bites in his hand and arm, not from some gaping wound in his chest or his head or— The world returned in pieces. The sounds of the chaos finally filtering through and then someone gripping him by the collar, hauling him up. The policeman yelling into his face.

"Are you injured?"

Neil shook his head but held up his bleeding arm. The scream of more sirens bounced off the storefronts and people around them still scrambled to make way. Santa's float careened around the end of the block behind them and a line of ambulances and more police cars appeared in its wake.

"Randi," he muttered to the cop. "My daughter. My wife."

The cop nodded as if anything Neil was saying made some sort of sense. "We'll sort it out—"

"No. The man— the— him," he waved his hand at the body of the homeless man, suddenly distressed that he didn't know the man's name. Large drops of blood slipped down his wrist and the cop grabbed his arm, pressed it against Neil's chest.

"Hold that tight, until the medics get here."

It burned, but he did as he was directed. "That man, I saw him earlier, with my daughter."

"We'll sort it out," said the cop. "Hold that. Other people still need my help."

"But my daughter—" Neil stopped. The cop had already dashed away.

3

Something trickled on his cheek. Neil swiped at it with his shoulder, expecting blood. It took him several seconds to realize it was tears instead. Around him, the combatants were mostly subdued, but the area was still chaotic. Panicked clusters of people shoved each other trying to flee down the street. Some of the balloon handlers still crouched in the mounds of crumpled vinyl. A window across the street was broken, the curtains in the apartment behind it flapping in little flashes of color that kept drawing Neil's attention for an instant before his mind deciphered what it was. He heard his name distantly and looked around. Dante stumbled toward him, tripping over the folds of vinyl, clutching his shoulder.

"You okay?" he shouted. Neil just shook his head. Dante reached him and Neil could see he was shaky and wan. His jacket sleeve was soaked.

"Gotta go find Tommy. He'll get trampled. Graziella's all the way at the end. She won't know there's anything wrong until way too late."

"Okay. I'm coming with you. I need to find Randi too. Joan's not great at crowds. Harry's a space cadet when it comes to this kind of thing. He won't get them out of there in time."

Dante glanced down and saw the homeless man's body lying beside them. He leaned heavily against him, closing his eyes. "Just need a second," he muttered. Neil let go of his injured hand so he could hold his friend upright. "Maybe you should stay here until the paramedics get here. I'll find Tommy and Randi."

Dante shook his head. "No, I can do it." His eyes were still closed. It was a moot point anyway. The ambulances were already pulling to a halt at the edge of the vinyl, their doors flinging open and small knots of people in brightly lettered shirts leaping out and sprinting toward the balloon. A woman knelt near the homeless man and checked his pulse. Another darted past her and pulled Dante and Neil apart. Neil found himself in the hands of a third, even as Dante was protesting.

"Need to go find my kid. I can drive myself to the hospital after—"

"Take it easy, fella," said one of the EMTs, "Security's already on it."

"It'll be hours before they can find someone in that crowd," said Neil. "I've got a seven-year-old girl out—"

"She with someone?"

"Sure— my ex, but—"

"She's going to be fine. It was a localized fight. We can hear it over the radio, rest of the parade route is clear."

"You don't even know where they are."

The woman who had taken charge of him, pulled his wounded hand gently from his chest to look at it. She replaced it and bent to open a large bag. "To be entirely honest, neither do you. People move around in crowds like these. Especially when something happens. You aren't going to be any faster than the people trained to contain these types of things. Security's not going to let you go wandering into the crowd anyway. Not after that. I expect you'll have to at least make a statement. You'll have to come with us to the hospital until they say you can go."

"We were attacked— had nothing to do with all this!" cried Dante.

"Still going to want a statement. And it's going to be a while until more than a handful of police get back here to take it. You need stitches. If you wait until you find your kid, make a statement, get released and then come to the hospital, you might need a transfusion, too." The man treating him helped him over the large lumps of vinyl back toward the ambulance.

"Can we call them, at least?" Neil asked the woman tightly wrapping his hand in gauze.

"Far as we know, you aren't under arrest," she said. "My only concern is making sure you're stable until a doctor can look at you. And then stabilizing the next person and the next until there aren't any more. Everything else is a very distant second."

He took that as tacit permission and fished his phone out of his pocket.

"This a bite?" asked the EMT.

"Yeah. From the man your friend wheeled away. Poor guy," he caught an unexpected sob before it could erupt from him. "There was something wrong with him. Cop shouldn't have killed him— I didn't— I never expected him to—"

The woman looked up from his arm. "I'm sure the police did what they thought was necessary—"

"Did they?" he asked. "I'm not— certain."

"Either way," she answered, pulling the bandage tighter, "the policeman's actions were his decision, not yours. You focus on keeping this tight, alright? That's your job right now. There'll be people at the hospital who know a lot more about all this than me. They'll help you sort it out. You just keep this bandage tight as you can. You have any other bites?"

"One, farther up my arm. Don't think he broke the skin though."

She nodded, pushed up the sleeve of his thick coat and frowned at the swollen crescent on his skin. "It'll leave a nasty bruise and they'll have to check you for infection but shouldn't need any more treatment than the hand. Going to take you to the ambulance now. My partner will ask you some questions just so the hospital knows what to do. I've got to get to the next patient."

"I can walk to the ambulance," he said.

She glanced skeptically at him, but someone groaned near Brinybrickle's shoulder and she just nodded before scooping up her bag and dashing away. He tried to dial Joan with one hand, frustrated that his fingers were still shaking.

It seemed a year before she answered. "Are you alright?" he asked before she'd even greeted him.

"What's happened? We're being told to clear the street. There are police everywhere."

"It's— I'm not sure. Should have been just a fistfight but it— I don't know Joan, I don't know what happened," He broke down at the sound of her voice, covering the receiver so she wouldn't hear the way his breath shook.

"What do you mean? Did you see it? Were you in it? Neil? Neil?"

"Are you somewhere safe?" he asked when he was certain his voice was steady.

"Yeah, sure, we're almost back to the car. We can come to the park if they're sending the balloons back there."

"No, no, I need to— I'm headed to the hospital. I know you need to go— I'll call you as soon as they release me and come to get Ra—"

"Oh God, are you hurt?"

"Just some stitches, no big deal."

"What happened?"

"It's— a long story. Not sure I really understand it myself. I'll tell you the whole thing after you come back from Bermuda. Listen, I need you to see if you can find Tommy. Dante said he was down by the arcade, so he should be clear of the crowd. Graziella is farther down. She won't even know what's happening. I'm sure Dante's called them but—"

"There's no getting back to the route. We won't be able to even get near the arcade. I'll try Gracie, but there are hundreds of people down here. Finding one kid— was he alone?"

"With his friends. I hope they stuck together. When we get to the hospital, I'll tell Dante to try calling him. If you get a hold of them first— tell them where Dante is, okay? He's going to be alright, probably going to need some stitches too."

"Okay," Joan sighed. The silence hung between them for a few extra seconds.

"Look, I know I'm not supposed to say it anymore—" started Neil.

"Don't," she warned him.

"And I don't mean it in a romantic way, alright? I know— I know that part of our life is over."

"Neil—"

"I just— saw someone die. Maybe more than one. I wanted to tell you that I love you, you and Randi, that I'm— grateful you asked me if I was hurt. After everything. That you still care. Just in case."

"Jesus, Neil, what happened? I'll come to the hospital—"

"No, don't, it'll be a madhouse. There are a lot of injuries and police, I don't know if they'll let you in anyhow. I— gotta go now. Just wanted to make sure you're safe. I'll call you when I'm released." He ended the call and shoved the phone into his pocket so he could swipe at his eyes. Why am I crying like this? Everything's okay. Joan and Randi are okay. Dante will be okay. I'm okay. Pull it together.

They put him on a bus along with half a dozen others with various injuries and three policemen. The ambulances were for the more seriously wounded. Neil was relieved to see Dante already in the back, his arm tightly slung to his chest. He still looked wiped out, sweaty. Neil wondered how much blood he'd lost. He slid into the seat beside Dante and pulled his phone out again.

"Got Joan," he said, handing Dante the phone. "Asked her to try Tommy. Thought you might want to."

"Thanks," said Dante, giving him a weak half-grin. "Gave mine to Tommy. You know, in case. Not exactly the 'in case' I had in mind. Gotta get the kid his own."

It was a relief to see Dante's face relax when his son answered the phone. Neil let his attention drift into a shocked sort of comfort while Dante spoke quietly to Tommy. The ride should have been short, but the parade traffic was heavy even with police trying to clear the way. Neil watched the balloons being deflated in the park as they waited for a massive group of pedestrians to cross. Squashed features in over-saturated color made the balloons seem more sinister than they had when he and Randi watched them being inflated the night before. Just balloons, he told himself. She didn't see it. You don't have to worry that it's spoiled for her. She'll be able to watch parades again.  He shut his eyes, trying not to remember the man's hand wearing his glove stretching out from beneath the thick vinyl.

Dante nudged his leg lightly. He handed Neil a wrinkled bunch of napkins from his pocket. "You're covered. Your face. You get hit in the head?"

"Wasn't me," he mumbled, taking the napkins. He scrubbed at his face but the napkin couldn't do much, the blood was long dried. It made his skin itch remembering it was there. "What the hell was that, Dante?"

"I have no idea. The guy— in the beginning, the guy from the park, he just seemed out of it. Wouldn't even look at me while I stood right in front of him. Like he was— completely zoned out. I just— I just wanted him to go back to the bar or the park or— just not around all those kids. I didn't know that fucking psycho Evan was going to... how was I supposed to know? Seemed uptight but not in a crazy way. Just an annoying office manager type of way. But when he snapped— you remember that kid from two summers ago? The dishwasher— what was his name? Josh, Jim— whatever. The one who came in high as hell and started whaling on that waitress because she dropped a gravy bowl? When we pulled him off her, the rage in his face— if he'd been bigger, he would have throttled one of us instead. It didn't matter who he killed, but he was going to kill somebody that day if we hadn't stopped him. I had the same thought with Evan today." Dante shook his head, looked out the bus window. "Guess I was right, this time. I think he killed more than one person today. Think he might have succeeded. Just don't get why."

4

The emergency room was loud and uncomfortable. The patients from the parade were just a small segment of everyone in the waiting room. Odd for a Sunday morning. He and Dante huddled in a far corner on a chilly bench. The dingy television broadcast the helicopter footage of Brinybrickle's collapse on an almost constant loop. Neil thought about asking them to change it. His hand ached and he was frightened. He gently nudged Dante's knee. "Hey— you think it was drugs, really?"

Dante shrugged and then groaned at the pain in his shoulder. "What else would it be?"

"I don't know. Just— weird. Evan seemed normal this morning. Well— a little manic maybe, but he was excited about the parade. And the slurring— I don't think he was that smashed, Dante. Not enough for that. And— and the other man, why did he freak out?"

"You said he seemed out of it when you saw him with Randi."

"Drunk though. He seemed drunk. Swaying and slurring and slow."

"We've seen our share of bar fights."

"Never seen a bar fight like that," said Neil. "And usually even big bar fights, even if someone was completely plastered, they don't just attack random people. He would have stuck to fighting Evan, wouldn't he?"

"That's why I think it was drugs."

"But two? At the same time, in just the same place?"

"More than two," piped up a tired parade security guard who sat across from them. He had a thick gauze pad taped to his cheek and his uniform was torn. "There were two more in the crowd, jumped the barriers just behind the balloon. We had reports of fights all through the morning. Didn't think much of it, kind of a normal thing for mid-December. But— there were so many. And at the parade— been doing security for this parade for fifteen years. Sure, you get the odd fistfight outside the bars that are open or road rage over at the parking garages. But most of the spectators are with kids. Parents don't want to show their kids that side of themselves. And then there's us. So much security, people don't want to risk arrest. We get dozens of calls about suspicious stuff, happens in every big crowd. But real incidents— maybe half a dozen during the entire parade? I counted twenty calls for backup before the incident we were in."

Dante leaned forward in his chair, lowering his voice. "What are you saying? You think this was what, coordinated?"

The guard shook his head. "I don't know man. If I wasn't sitting here talking with you, I might just chalk it up to the shitty economy and the holidays. Just a bad day. But—" he glanced around at the waiting room. "Look around. Really look. Sure, there are a few kids and moms here with the flu but look at the rest of them. Look at their injuries. Looks like a—" he lowered his voice to a whisper. "Looks like a fucking bombing and these are the survivors. And if these are the injuries that are a lower priority, how bad are the injuries of the people being treated back there?"

"Do you think it— it was?" asked Neil. "I mean— not a bomb, obviously, but what if— there's that bath salts thing, right? Makes people go insane. Maybe a big batch hit this week or something. Maybe tainted or— I dunno, extra-strong or something. And all these people just happened to be in the path of a user."

"Maybe," said the guard, but he sounded doubtful. "This many in one county? I just don't know. All I know is it's been a damn bad day." A nurse shouted his name from across the room and he stood up, swaying a little. Neil reached out to steady him, but the man just waved him off. "Must be tired," he muttered and walked toward the nurse.

"What should we do?" asked Neil.

Dante clutched at his shoulder. He was sweating although the waiting room was almost frigid. Neil thought the pain must be getting to him. His own hand throbbed and stung at the edges of the bite, but he could mostly ignore it if he concentrated on other things. "Do?" asked Dante.

"Well— what if there are more of them?"

"The only thing we do is get stitched up and go home. Get some painkillers because work's going to be a bitch and you know Charlie's not going to give us time off during the busy season. Bath salts and shit— not our thing to take care of."

"But if it comes to the restaurant—"

"Nobody's doing bath salts. The last real incident was a while ago. A little weed maybe."

"You know it's more than that. We're just too old to get offered it anymore. Dads."

Dante snorted a laugh. "Corporate and soft, that's us."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah. I know. Shit, Neil, I don't know what we do if it happens. Call the cops, I guess. Same as if someone grabbed a knife and started stabbing or tried to burn the place down. Can't worry about it until it happens. Besides, if it really is some kind of bad chemical or something— people are going to know after today. They'll do blood tests and stuff." He pointed at the television screen with his uninjured arm. "Something crazy enough to do that in front of millions of people, they're going to get to the bottom of it. Probably interview us to death too. This is the last we'll see of the bath salts people, trust me." He was called next and left Neil alone to stare at the other patients around him and watch the repeating loop of the balloon collapsing into a writhing mound of green and black vinyl.

By the time it was his turn, it was almost dusk. Joan had called twice, finally making arrangements for Neil's mother to watch Randi so she wouldn't miss her flight. Not without a few parting shots at Neil. As if he were in control of what was happening. As if it were me who was ditching Randi to fly to Bermuda with my new squeeze, he thought bitterly, but only sighed and tried to soothe her. He hadn't explained anything, he reminded himself. Most of what she knew was from the same news loop he'd been numbly watching for hours. And the commentator's wild speculations. For all she knew, he could have started the damn thing. As much as he hated the idea of her flying off on some glamorous, expensive vacation with someone else— well. He wasn't about to ruin it either. Let her think he was an asshole rather than scare her. No good talking about bath salts and massively overcrowded ERs and the idea that had been welling up in his head all day that it was some kind of crazy terrorist plot. He didn't know much more than she did. Best to say nothing. She was safe. His daughter was safe. Everything was okay. He'd pick Randi up from his mom's and everyone would have a peaceful week. And when she came back, if she still gave a shit— maybe he'd explain it all then.

When the nurse finally called his name, Neil was surprised to be led to an elevator, passing the small patient rooms one after another. "Where are we going?" he asked, mostly so he'd stop listening to the groans behind each thin curtain.

"You came in with the parade group right?" the nurse frowned, checking his folder.

"Yeah."

"We're admitting you."

"Admitting? But I just have a bite on my hand. I would have just bandaged it myself, but I was told I had to come here and make a report to the police or something."

"Probably best if you let us look at it. You said a bite? The human mouth is a nasty place, sir. You don't want to be messing around with bite wounds or you'd be back here in two weeks with a massive infection." He pressed the call button and the elevator dinged. "After you."

"But I've got work and my kid— I was supposed to meet her hours ago—"

"We'll let you call anyone you need once you're checked in."

Neil shook his head. "No, look, I need to get home. I'll go to the police department and make my report. Go see my local doc in the morning. It'll be okay until then."

The nurse stopped the elevator door from closing with one hand. "Listen, Mr. Newton, let's go upstairs and we'll talk about your options, okay?" His eyes flicked toward a security guard at the end of the hall and Neil noticed. "We don't need to cause a panic. These types of large scale incidents have to be sorted out, right? They work a little differently. Your hand will be fixed up in twenty minutes, I promise. We'll run a few tests just to make sure nothing got transmitted when you got bit or in the blood castoff from others. And then, we'll see what the police need. Could be out again in an hour. We need the beds down here for other patients, you understand? The most important thing is to stay calm."

Neil glanced at the security guard too, who was watching them, attracted by the repeated ding of the elevator.

"I don't have a choice?"

"No man, not for a couple of hours. You said you had a kid, don't want to bring anything home to her, right? Better safe than sorry."

"Bring anything home? Bring what home? What's going on?"

"Let's go upstairs, get you settled, get you some answers."

The security guard started walking casually toward them. What are you going to do? Resist? How? Just go along. It's just a fucking report, Neil. Just get on the elevator. He stepped onto the elevator and the nurse nodded with a friendly smile, following him in. They traveled up the building in silence.

What happened next was a whirlwind of questions about his health history and actual treatment. Tetanus shots and stitches and the sharp tingle of astringent chemicals in the air. Several vials of blood sent to a lab somewhere in the depths of the building. Then— nothing. For hours. No information to follow up on the nurse's ominous hints. No police sergeant with a pad of paper to take a report. No doctor coming to check on his status. No one until a woman with a tray of food appeared and just as quickly vanished down the hall somewhere else. He stuck his head out of the door more than once and had seen staff racing between rooms on each occasion. Whatever was happening was keeping them busy. Maybe there'd been more people on that bus than he remembered. Or more people in the ambulances. He tried to be patient. Called his work, who'd already heard from Dante. They were keeping him, too. Then his mom, who'd been sneaking away from Randi all afternoon to watch more of the footage from the parade. She was in a bad state.

"It's okay, Mom. I'm okay. Couple of stitches and probably some antibiotics, that's it."

"But I heard people died, Neil."

"Yeah," he said. "Yeah, a couple people did. But I'm okay. You don't let Randi watch that, okay? She was far enough down that she couldn't have seen any of that."

"Of course. When do you want me to come and pick you up?"

"I'm not sure. Sorry about dinner. The police still have to come take a statement and they're waiting for blood tests. Things are— weird here. I'm not sure anyone knows what happened, really. If it's late, I'll call a cab and come get Randi in the morning."

"I haven't let her watch the news. She knows you're hurt though. She's awfully worried about you. I don't think Joan told her much. If she could hear you tell her you're okay—"

"Yeah, Mom, I'd love to talk to her."

A little rustle and a few thumps as his mother passed the phone to his daughter and then a frightened little voice, "Dad?"

He made his voice loud and cheerful, better than he truly felt. "Hey, Bunnypop. Having fun at Grandma's?"

"Are you coming to get me soon?"

"She's making you play rummy again, isn't she? I know you hate that."

It earned him a little laugh. "No, Dad. But— she's worried a lot. She keeps baking things."

"It's almost Christmas, sweetheart, that's what people do."

"I don't think so."

"It's okay, Randi. She was just nervous. But now you both know I'm okay, right?"

"Are you sure? Mom said there were ambulances."

"There were some ambulances, but I wasn't in one. I just have a cut in my hand. Dante and I rode the bus. That's why it's taking so long, there are people who were hurt worse than we were, they have to take care of them first. Make sense?"

"I guess..."

He tried a different tactic. "Mom and Harry wouldn't have left if anything serious were wrong, would they? They would have stayed right there with you. Mom went on vacation because she knew I was okay. And Grandma loves any reason to have you visit. It'll be okay, kiddo, I promise. I'm just waiting to get some medicine to bring home with me so I don't get sick from the cut, and then I'll come to Grandma's. That's all. I'll see you in a few hours."

"Okay, Dad."

"Love you, Randi."

"Love you too. See you soon."

"You bet." The phone beeped as Randi hung up and he settled back into boredom, picking at the cold food left from dinner and watching reruns of a police procedural rather than the news. It was getting repetitive.

5

It was almost ten o'clock before a doctor finally returned to his room. He was getting fidgety, his body too accustomed to the late dinner rush at the restaurant to keep still. The sterile bleach smell and the harsh light felt off. Wrong. And it was too damn cold in the hospital room. He was used to sweating and bouncing between stations, to the thick smell of garlic and grease. Charlie always thought he and Dante were trying to wriggle out of a shift whenever they called in sick, that they were somehow faking. Twelve years they'd been working for him, and he still thought that. But Neil missed it. He missed the noise and the heat and the dull ache in his hips at the end of a rush. It was a relief when the door finally swung open and his doctor walked through. "Kind of late for rounds, isn't it?" he asked her. "Thought I was going to be here all night. So glad you stuck around."

The doctor frowned and scanned the large tablet she carried. "I'm sorry for the wait, Mr. Newton. I'm afraid you will be here until morning."

"Why's that? And don't give me the 'police report' line again. If they cared that much, someone would already have come to take my statement. There weren't that many people involved at the parade."

She lifted his chin and pressed gloved fingers slightly into the soft underside of his jaw. "I assume an officer took down your information at the scene. Not my concern, anyhow. You need to stay overnight for observation."

He pulled slightly away from her hands. "Observation?" He slid his hand over the spots she'd pressed. "Why are you checking my neck? I just needed stitches for my hand is all."

"Relax, Mr. Newton. I'm just checking your lymph nodes to make certain you don't have an infection." She pulled a tongue depressor from its wrapper and waved it vaguely at him. "Open, please."

"What? I— no. You should be looking at my hand. If I have an infection it'll be swollen or sore or something. Nothing to do with my mouth—"

"Sir, it's been a long night. I'm just trying to do my job. It's a hassle to be stuck here for a few more hours, I know. But if you had to come back because of a life-threatening infection, it could be weeks. Or longer. And you'd rightly blame me. You can understand that, can't you?"

Neil sighed and opened his mouth so she could look. She remained silent, typing on the tablet for several seconds. At last, she looked up at him again.

"I'd like to take a look at that hand now."

Neil bit back a sarcastic reply and simply stuck out his bandaged hand. She unwrapped the gauze and twisted his wrist gently. The wound was an angry snarl of dark stitching and puffy skin, but Neil couldn't see anything particularly off about it. "So?" he demanded after a moment.

"So. Hard to tell. In a few weeks, you can go to your primary care doctor and see about a referral to an occupational therapist if you have—"

"I meant is it infected?"

"I don't know yet. That's why you're here for observation. It takes time for any microbe to become detectable."

"I don't understand. You have the blood work. Why can't I go home and if something comes up or the labs come back with something, I can just come back?" He was seized with a terrible thought. "Is it— that guy, I thought he was on something. Some drug. It's not rabies, is it?"

The doctor began re-wrapping his hand with the bandage. She didn't look at him. "I can't give you information on other patients, sir."

"Other— the man who bit me is dead. Unless you're some kind of miracle worker, he's not your patient. Do I have rabies? Is that what you're telling me?" Neil's chest hurt like his breath was rattling over gravel, like he couldn't pull in enough air and he was drowning.

"I can't say for sure. Not for another forty-eight hours or so. That's why it's better that you stay here, where you can be treated to prevent any infection from getting worse—"

"You said I'd be here until morning, not two days."

She glanced uneasily at him before returning to the bandage. "Look, you don't want to bring it home to your family, right?"

"Rabies? The guy just bit me this morning. I'm not a doctor but I know rabies doesn't move that fast—"

"We aren't sure it's rabies," she said abruptly. "Maybe you're right, maybe it was some bad drugs or a history of psychological problems, but shouldn't we be sure?"

"This is insane. I've heard of being cautious, but this is— just release me. I'll follow up with my doctor—"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Mr. Newton." The doctor stood up, briskly tossing the old bandages into the biohazard bin. She didn't remove her gloves. In fact, he couldn't remember if she'd had them on since she'd walked into the room or not. "Get a good night's—"

"Forget it. You don't want to release me, that's fine. I'll go anyway. You can mark me down as difficult or whatever the technical term is. I'm going home—" he stood up but she pushed him firmly back down with a hand on his shoulder.

"No, sir, you aren't. I'll release you as soon as your tests show that you aren't a danger to the greater population. Until then—"

"Danger? What the hell are you talking—"

"Please don't make me call security," she snapped.

"I'm not doing anything!" he cried.

"Good. Then we don't have a problem. Get some rest, Mr. Newton. A nurse will be by in the next hour to give you something for pain."

He waited about five minutes after she left to grab his coat and try to leave. He found his room door locked. He knocked at it, experimentally, but nobody came. He waited a few minutes more, then tried the call button near the bed. A nurse appeared with a security guard at her side.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Newton?" she asked calmly. Neil eyed the security guard who just watched him silently.

"I wanted to grab something from the vending machine, but my door— my door was locked."

"Yes. It's for your safety. We've had a few incidents tonight. It's best if you remain in your room."

"Am I a prisoner?"

The nurse laughed, but it was too loud, went on too long. It only increased Neil's uneasiness. "Of course not, you're our patient. I'll be happy to get whatever you need from the vending machine. Or I can have the cafeteria send up—"

Neil shook his head to stop her. "What if there's a fire?" he asked.

"All the doors automatically unlock in the event of an emergency. If that should happen, take a right out of your doorway and head to the stairwell. Jeffrey here will be there to help."

The security guard nodded gravely.

"But I'm certain the excitement for the night is all over. So why don't you go ahead and get ready for bed? I'll be in with something for your pain in just a moment."

The door clicked distinctively behind them. Had it done that after the doctor had left? Was he just listening for it more closely now? Neil wasn't sure. He checked the door again after a few minutes, hoping he was wrong, but the door was still locked. He wondered if it were just him or if everyone from the parade was still in the hospital. Dante, he thought, I'll call Dante.

The lady at reception still had Dante in her system and connected him, but it took several rings before Dante picked up the phone. Neil was too unsettled to be worried that he woke his friend.

"They letting you go home?" he asked before Dante had even greeted him.

"No. Shill— still here. Keeping me overnight. You?"

"Shit. No. I'm here too. I was hoping they treated you and let you go already. I was just about to hang up. They're keeping me for observation."

"Yeah, me too. Shoulder achesh like sumbish."

Neil hesitated. "You're still in pain? You sound like they got you drugged to the gills man."

"I dunno. Can't remember, really. Hursh like hell though. Gonna ash— ask for something. Tommy and Graziella are okay. No reason to stay up. Randi ok?"

"Yeah, yeah, Randi's with Mom. You go ahead and call the nurse. I'll talk to you in the morning, man."

"Night."

He hung up the phone and resigned himself to watching reruns of some old creature features and worrying until he sank into a troubled sleep.

6

The next day was no better, just a slow crawl of hours between blood draws and some kind of antibiotic dose that he heard the doctor explaining but didn't really listen to. The medicine caused nausea even after the starchy, heavy meals the cafeteria sent up and Neil's anxiety only worsened it. His boss had called, haranguing him to get back to work even as Neil explained that he was still hospitalized. He wasn't certain he'd have a job when this was over. Too old to go looking around for another, he told himself, listening to Charlie spout off about how inconvenient his and Dante's absence was. Don't say anything stupid. He let Charlie wear himself out venting and then just reassured him in a more cheerful voice than Neil actually felt. Afterward, it was just more hours of puttering. He heard shouts in the hallway and tried the door again. Still locked and the window to the corridor was too small to see very far. Just a janitorial cart pushed slightly askew and a mop bucket tipped over, spilling suds across the floor. Nothing and no one else.

A call from his mother and Randi next, they were decorating the house. His mom was worried, he could hear it in her voice, the tense way she asked questions as if she were trying to hold them back but they burst out anyway. He wished he had more information for her. He told her about the rabies test, but not about the locked door. Not like she could do anything anyway. Randi was distracted enough that she wasn't missing him, not yet. That was good. He wanted to keep it that way. When he hung up, he drifted back to the door. He needed to find out how much longer. If he wasn't home soon, there'd be more than disappointing Randi to worry about. The mop bucket was still there. He could see the water splattered over the floor, though the suds had long since popped. There was a filmy rainbow of old soap on the top of the puddle. Weird. That's a safety hazard, isn't it? How long's it been since I've seen anyone? Breakfast at least, wasn't it? Enough waiting around. Someone needs to tell me something. Anything. They have to understand I have a kid and a job. It's just a couple stitches. Danger to the public. What the hell was that all about anyway? He leaned over the bed to press the call button but hesitated. You sure you want to know, Neil? You sure it's not just better to wait? What on earth do they think I have? What was at that damned parade?

He pressed the call button. His heartbeat sounded too loud in his ears. It drowned out the low drone of the television. His skin felt itchy, prickling and tingling, especially near the edges of the bandages around his hand. Come on, come on, he willed, staring at the blinking call button.

"Mr. Newton. Do you need assistance?" The voice sounded slightly winded.

"No— I— yes. Can I talk to someone? I haven't seen anyone since this morning. I have no idea how long I'm—"

"Your chart says you spoke with Dr. Barnes during morning rounds. You're due for another dose of cefprozil in about an hour. I'll be in to give it to you then."

"Cef— what is that for again?"

"Seems you have a touch of strep throat."

"I'm not here for strep. I'm here for my hand."

"I know, sir. Look—" the sound broke off for a few seconds and he heard some shouts in the hallway again. The voice broke through again. "We're rather busy down here, sir. I'll be happy to discuss your treatment with you shortly."

The call button blinked off. More shouts. He darted to the door, pressing his face to the small glass window, trying to see farther down the hallway. Someone in a loose, flapping hospital gown flailed at the corner of his vision. More than one other figure surrounded them. He could hear their voices but not the words and the small group of people slipped out of his sight after a moment.

Neil paced the small room for a while, shutting the television off in frustration, tired of the constant chatter of daytime talk shows. He stood at the large window overlooking the parking lot for a while, watching a stream of ambulances arrive and then quickly depart again. None of them had their lights on. The rest of the lot looked largely empty. Strange. It had been quite full when he and Dante had arrived.

The nurse finally knocked, and the door opened. She was alone this time, no security guard backing her up. Neil hoped that meant he'd be released soon. "Careful the bucket," he warned her as she entered, even though he knew she must have already seen it. She glanced over her shoulder.

"Thanks," she said, "I'll ask Cody to come clean that up. Someone must have knocked it over on the way through. Can't have that when lunch arrives." She smiled and it was too tight, too cheery to be genuine. She held out a small plastic cup to him. "Cefprozil and your ibuprofen," she said. He looked at it.

"Yeah, about that. I'm here because someone bit me. If I've got strep, I'll get some cough drops and muddle through when I'm home."

She laughed, but it sounded tired. Exasperated. "Cough drops won't do anything, Mr. Newton. Your wound makes you more susceptible to microbes. Best if you take the antibiotic so it can't become something worse." Her hand twitched trying to get him to take the cup.

He stared at it, wondering how much the extra antibiotic was going to cost him. Damn ibuprofen probably costs three hours' wages alone. Never heard of this Cef— whatever. Still, if taking it got him out of the hospital faster, wasn't it worth it? Stop worrying about money, he told himself. It's not all fucking money. In truth, it was, for most of his life. Scraping by and borrowing from one bill to pay another and back and forth in a never-ending plate spin since Randi had been born. "I'm a cook, okay? I make fifteen bucks an hour at a middle-grade restaurant. I've got no health insurance. And whatever vacation pay I got saved up is already gone. I've got a kid and rent and a car with enough miles that it might have been a rocket ship instead. I can't afford anything I don't absolutely need. Hell, can't afford what I do need. I don't even know how I'm going to pay off this little compulsory visit you all have me in. Skip the meds, release me, and let me start working on the bill so that maybe I don't leave it for my kid to take care of when I die."

The nurse's exhausted irritation seemed to evaporate. She put the pills on the small table beside the bed and patted his shoulder with a gloved hand. "I understand. I really do. And you'll get care whether you can afford it or not. That's what we do here."

"Only for emergencies. I know that. Forgone enough doctor's visits to know where that compassion ends," he snapped.

She glanced uneasily at the door and then back to him. "This is an emergency," she said, lowering her voice. "The doctor thinks the strep strain you have is a bad one. Very bad. We need to treat it before you start showing symptoms if we can. Besides— you may not have insurance, but Granby's does."

"The toy store?"

"Sure. It's their parade. Any accidental injury that happens during the parade is covered by their insurance. I'd say yours definitely qualifies. Even if it doesn't, they aren't going to risk the bad PR they'd get letting a dad who volunteered for them to go bankrupt from injuries they are partially responsible for. You want my advice, you relax. Take your medicine. Get a good rest and stop worrying about the cost. It's not going to do you much good if you let it keep you from getting care, either way. Let the lawyers sort it out." She watched him, seeming to wait for some response.

He had to admit, it made a vague sort of sense. At least enough that he'd be able to convince himself for a while. He nodded.

"Good," she said, fishing a packet of crackers and a little carton of apple juice from her large pockets. "Eat the crackers first, that antibiotic goes better with a cushion. I've got a lot of patients to get to this afternoon, but if you need something, the button's right there, and I'll be back as soon as I can. No more worrying. I'll leave a note for accounting to come talk to you tomorrow morning. They'll tell you exactly what will be left for you to pay when this is all done. Trust me, I don't think it'll be a penny. I'll be surprised if Granby's doesn't offer you something to cover missed work as well."

She left him to the long, boring hours that would stretch until he got more information. He tried Dante again but got no answer this time. Maybe he was sleeping. Or maybe they'd already released him. Maybe it meant Neil would be released soon, too. He sat near the window in a large, rigid vinyl chair. It was better than the bed, anyway. The noon news was riddled with bar fights and standoffs. Far more than was normal for the area. Holidays did that, Neil expected. People confined with only old scars and politics to pick at for days. Too much time, too much alcohol, too much familiarity. Just too much. He shut off the television. Checked his phone. The battery was almost out and he didn't have his charger. He thought about asking the nurse if they had one, but like everything else in his life, it was an old phone, off-brand with a weird, specific jack. He was going to have to save the battery or risk racking up more charges using the hospital phone. He shut it off, frustrated. Stared out at the parking lot. Something was wrong. The lot was even emptier than it had been before. It looked like a construction crew had moved into the edges near the street. They were setting up large orange barriers and wheeling in multiple variable message signs. Who the hell starts a construction project in November? It's colder than a polar bear's paws out there, he thought. He cupped his hands against the glass to cut the slight glare and squinted at the signs, trying to read them. They were too far. He wasn't even certain they'd entered a message into them yet, anyway. Gonna make it hard to get picked up. I'll have to ask Mom to park at that coffee shop down the block. No reason to make her navigate all this mess. He left the construction crew to their work and tried to find something else to do to kill the time.

The security guard was back with the lady who brought him lunch. More shouting in the hallways for the rest of the afternoon and well into the evening. He tried to watch a few times, but couldn't see much. Someone came to take more blood from him after dinner. They were covered in plastic, head to toe, a light blue nightmare come to life. Their face was hidden behind a surgical mask and glasses and a hood.

"What's going on? Why are you dressed like that?" he asked.

"Just a precaution, sir. Bad— flu season this year," the person muttered, moving far too rapidly. The blood draw hurt. The phlebotomist was not gentle and didn't stay to be certain the injection site had stopped bleeding as the previous one had. The security guard with them was also wearing gloves and a surgical mask and stared incessantly at Neil, one hand always on the radio at his shoulder.

"What's going on? Why's there so much security? Never had you guys in a doctor's appointment before," he asked again, as the phlebotomist quickly packed the filled vials into her kit.

"It's for your protection, sir. We've had a few incidents today. Just a precautionary measure."

"Incidents? What kind of incidents?"

"Let's go," snapped the phlebotomist. "Got ten more on this floor, can't stand around gabbing."

The security guard nodded and opened the door. "Have a good night, sir," he told Neil and locked him in again.

Neil was uneasy. None of it made any sense. And no one had really given him any definitive answers. About anything. He eyed the call button. Stand up for yourself, you coward. Demand to see the doctor or an administrator or something. Tell 'em you'll sue or— I don't know. Aren't there laws about privacy or something? Shouldn't be security guards at a doctor's appointment. And what's with the locked door? I'm not a criminal. I haven't done anything wrong. But the nurse's tired exasperation was all he saw in his head. Isn't their fault. No sense in yelling at exhausted nurses. Especially if all that yelling was from problem patients today. Wonder if we got put on the psych ward or something because of space. It's only one more night, Neil. The doctor told you the rabies test would be back by morning. They'll have no excuse to hold you longer. Just go to sleep, deal with it in the morning. Don't make trouble.

7

In the morning, nobody came. No one had shown up for morning rounds. No lab work. No custodian. No breakfast. No nurse to hand him a dose of pills. He waited a few hours, thinking it was just because they were planning on releasing him. Just waiting on paperwork. No point cleaning the room or serving breakfast when he was going. He did wish they'd give him some kind of idea of what time they were letting him go, so he could call his mother for a ride.

There'd been more cries in the hallway, but it only made Neil more convinced that he'd been put on the psych ward while the emergency room was overwhelmed. He paced the small room, a short, brisk route from the large window to the door. He banged his shins on the bed a few times in his distraction.

It wasn't until just before three that he'd started hearing gunshots. He'd tried the door and found it still locked, but this time, he didn't just give up and return to his pacing. He started banging and yelling to be let out instead. No one had come. He'd pressed and pressed the call button for the nurse, uncertain whether it was really working at all. Tried calling his mom to tell her to come and get him. Forget all this waiting around. He was getting out of here. And he sure as hell was going to be taking Dante with him, security guards or not. Crazy people having spats in the hallway was one thing. Gunshots— that was something entirely different. He'd tell his mom to keep Randi in the car and park at the coffee shop and then he'd call the cops and get them to help him leave. But his mom never answered.

Frustrated and scared, he tried calling Dante down the hall. Just the irritating hum of a busy signal. His cell phone gave up the ghostly sliver of battery it had held onto all night and went blank. He glanced out the thick windows. The parking lot was empty except for a few police vehicles and two fire trucks with all their lights flashing. A crowd of onlookers pressed against a barrier at the edge of the street. Something's really wrong, Neil. They know. Those people out there know. Something's happened and no one remembers you're in here. Hostage situation? Some kind of bomb threat? They locked you in and forgot you and now all those people out there are going to watch you blow up. He flipped on the television, frantic for some kind of information. The local news anchors chattered rapidly, but they knew little more about what was happening than he did. Only that there was a police presence at the hospital and all others should avoid the area. There was no mention of the gunshots. They switched rapidly to some kind of jerky footage of what looked like a domestic dispute or something. It should have bothered him that the hospital was playing second fiddle to something so seemingly ordinary, but he was too panicked to think very hard about it. It wouldn't occur to him until much later that if he'd left the television on, he likely would have seen dozens more videos just like it. That the sheer volume of the same type of horrific violence just pushed something as vague as a hospital rerouting well into the background.

Another smattering of gunshots came from the hallway. They were much closer this time. He wondered if it had been the police who had been doing the shooting or someone else and ducked below the window of the door, suddenly terrified that someone was loose in the hospital. Were they going from room to room?

Stop panicking. For all you fucking know, it was someone's car backfiring in the lot. Just breathe. Find something to block the door. He looked around, but anything heavy and movable was already on wheels that would just glide with a shove from the door. Okay. Okay. If I need to, I'll retreat to the bathroom. Need to get help. Need to let someone who can help know I'm still in here without alerting a shooter, or bomber or— whatever. Who can help?

He picked up the room phone. First the nurse's station. Then reception. Then he tried the police department and began panicking when all he got was another busy signal. 911 was the same. Wrong, wrong, wrong, how is it busy? How is nobody answering? He watched the news station's headlines flashing over the bottom of the screen, willing them to show some kind of phone number for the station. At least he knew there were people there. There had to be someone who'd help him. The only other number he could remember was the restaurant, but there'd be no one there yet. Fucking phone, he thought, looking at his dead cell with contempt. Outside. There's a ton of people outside. Shooter's in here, but help's out there.  He ran to the window, waving frantically trying to get someone, anyone's attention. Dusk was falling, making it difficult to make out more than a throng of shadows outside. He wasn't sure if anyone could even see him. If he had some way to make a sign, a big sign, the light behind him might illuminate it as night fell. He glanced around and flinched as another shot echoed in the hallway, much closer this time. Shit, shit, shit. He ducked behind the bed and held his breath. It was a fucking parade. Going to lose Randi because of a fucking parade. She's not going to understand what happened. Should have told her I loved her again last night. One more time. Should have read her the Gawain book last time she asked for the millionth time. Millionth time, hundredth time, first time, what's it matter? She loved it. Should have done it, Neil. You'll never get to again. He sobbed into his hands to cover up the sound. After several minutes, when there was no repeat of the gunshot, he reached up and yanked the sheet from the bed. After a few more, he crept to the bedside table and fumbled through it for a pen. He was busy trying to scrawl large, jagged letters across the sheet when the room door swung open and he whirled around, peering over the edge of the bed. A man in a black bullet-proof vest and police helmet stumbled through, bowled over by a tall, lanky nurse. They were both bloody. The policeman shouted for the nurse to stop as they tumbled to the floor but the nurse grappled and lunged, pinning the officer. He was growling. Neil shouted, but neither of the men looked over at him. They struggled for a few seconds while Neil hesitated, trying to decide whether to pull them apart or stay clear. It wasn't like any fistfight Neil had ever seen. Except for the one at the parade. The nurse wasn't trying to punch, instead grasping any available part of the cop and then leaning forward trying to bite.

"Get the fucking door," snarled the cop, "before more get in."

Neil darted forward, mesmerized by the frenzied nurse. His hand was on the door by the time he remembered why he was still here in the first place and he stopped.

"Close the fuckin— ah! Shit!" howled the cop. Neil turned to tell him the door would lock if he shut it and saw the nurse bent over him, face buried against the cop's cheek. The nurse shook his head slightly, worrying at the skin between his teeth like a dog with a stubborn hunk of meat. The cop shrieked in pain and tried to shove him off with one hand, his other blindly fumbling at his holster.

Neil started to pull on the nurse, trying to free him before someone got shot. The nurse growled but didn't let go. A flurry of footsteps echoed in the hallway. The cop groaned before the nurse ripped a chunk of skin from his face and twisted toward Neil. The gobbet of blood and flesh quivered between the nurse's teeth and he growled. Neil let go of him and stumbled, his back hitting the edge of the open door as the cop groaned in pain and clutched at his throat. Three more people darted in through the open door and past Neil.

Oh, thank God, he thought, relieved to not be alone with the crisis anymore. He opened his mouth to warn them about the nurse but a woman among them fell to her knees beside the cop. Instead of pushing the nurse off or applying pressure to the wound on the cop's face, she tipped forward with a snarl and sank her teeth into the cop's neck. Another turned to attack the nurse rather than the cop. The remaining woman stared at Neil while the cop shrieked. Her mouth and chin were already dark with drying blood. Her clothes were askew and there were clumps of hair missing from her head.

"Listen," said Neil, holding up his hands to show he was unarmed. "I don't know what all—"

She sprang toward him and he jumped, half-tripping backward out of the door. The woman was less lucky, her face slamming into the edge of the door with a clunk.

"Oh God! I'm sor—" Neil stopped mid-apology as she shook her head with a growl as if to clear it and stood up. Slamming the door shut between them had been an instinctive reaction. An instant of pure terror. He almost opened it a second later, consumed with remorse as the cop's screams choked and bubbled from behind it. But the woman who had focused on Neil threw herself against the closed door, her fingers scrabbling and bloody against the small observation window.

"I'll— I'll get help," muttered Neil in confusion. He turned away from the door.

8

He scrambled across the waxed vinyl of the hospital hallway, his breath already wheezing and rasping. Don't look back, he willed himself, hearing a series of growls and liquid snuffling behind him through the door of his room. What he didn't hear were more footsteps. He wasn't going to hang around to see if that changed. He made straight for Dante's hospital room. Dante would help. Help do what? Neil shoved the thought away. He'd figure it out once he found Dante. Once he saw somebody sane. There were other sounds from behind the doors between. He glanced into one of the rooms and saw a man sitting in his hospital gown on the bed chewing his own fingers to a scarlet pulp. Neil didn't look into any others. The nurse's station was empty. Paper folders scattered in a beige fan over the floor beside it and pens spilled over the counter. A series of red lights blinked on a wall panel from activated and unanswered call buttons. "Hello?" he called as he passed. "I need help." Nobody came, and his own voice felt too loud. What if the shooter had heard? What if he attracted attention? He looked around him, suddenly sure someone was creeping up behind. The hallway was empty. Neil felt a wave of guilt. There were other people trapped in here. Get Dante. Get out, then we can get help for them. Safer in their rooms, he told himself but knew it was a lie. He hadn't been safer. What if those crazy people got bored with the cop and moved to another room? What if the shooter just opened each door and fired? Not a superhero, Neil. Get yourself out, get people who know what to do. That's it. Get back to Randi. Get home.

Dante's room was silent. No one cried out for help or banged on the door to be released. No television murmur behind it. No beep of electric monitors. There wasn't much time to grab his friend, but Neil wasn't about to just leave him locked up when a psycho might tumble through any minute. He couldn't afford to stay in the hallway long. There were distant footsteps now, from somewhere ahead nearing the junction that went to the other wing. Don't lock yourself in, he warned himself. Neil peered through the small window.

The mattress had tipped off the hospital bed and leaned sideways against the far rails. The television dangled by its cord, its glass spidered in the thin frame. No blood at least. Neil hoped that was a good sign. The footsteps were getting too close to hesitate much longer and he opened the door wide enough to get himself through. He held it just shy of latching, afraid to be locked in again. Should have searched that nurse's desk first. Maybe I could have found the door code or key. Or maybe I would have been caught. That nurse that came into my room wasn't himself.

"Dante?" he whispered, still hanging on to the door. No one answered. He hadn't really expected one. He was either going to have to speak louder or let go of the door. Something banged in the hallway behind him. Neil held his breath, listening. Maybe someone would say something sane. Maybe it'd be another policeman. Maybe they could help. Maybe it'd draw Dante out, anyway. Make a louder sound than Neil dared to. He had a wave of shame at his cowardice but it snapped off before it could overwhelm him because the next sound that came from the hallway was a long, guttural cry and more crashes. Shit, they got out of my room, he thought, though he knew it was coming from the wrong direction. There was no way he could stay here. They'd see him through the window. He had to move from the door. He glanced around for something to help but saw nothing obvious. He jumped as another crash echoed in the hallway. Sounded like a meal cart overturned. Can't prop it open anyway. Door needs to look closed so they don't try. Latch plate. Block the latch plate. He pulled his wallet free of his pocket, fumbling to retrieve a card with one hand. A few slid out and spilled to the floor before he could catch them. His license snagged and he wriggled it free with his teeth. He turned and knelt in front of the door, peering carefully through the crack. The people fighting seemed to have moved slightly toward the nurse's station. They weren't in front of the room, anyway. Neil risked opening it just a hair further to slide his license over the lock plate and held his breath as he allowed it to close. The license was flimsy and slippery, but it'd hold for the moment. Move quick, he told himself, before something knocks it loose. Get Dante and get out of here.

Still, he crept away from the door, afraid to make too much noise or move too rapidly and attract the attention of the combatants outside.

"Dante?" he called in a harsher whisper, crouch running to the bed. He pushed the mattress aside, afraid he'd find Dante unconscious on the floor behind it. All he found were a few drops of dried blood on the gray tile. He headed for the tiny bathroom even though he knew he wouldn't find his friend. If Dante had been here when whatever had destroyed his room had happened, he must have fled. He would have done the same as Neil. Could have come by for me, buddy, he thought. Or at least warned me. He opened the bathroom door partway until it stopped, blocked by something inside. Maybe he'd been wrong. "Dante?" he asked. He wriggled his way through the narrow opening, afraid that Dante had been hurt or fainted. Neil had been left completely alone for almost sixteen hours now. There was no reason to think he'd been the only one. Dante's shoulder had been in a lot worse shape than Neil's hand. If the stitches had come loose and he started to bleed again— Neil flicked on the light. It wasn't Dante on the floor. Neil yelped before he could stop himself, then clapped a hand over his own mouth and closed his eyes. He waited for a few breaths but no footsteps raced toward him, no growls rippled through the outer room. He opened his eyes. It wasn't Dante, but Neil wouldn't have been able to tell from the person's face. There was no face. Just a mash of flaking maroon cavities that had once been eyes and a mouth. The nose was gone, just a flat, slick pulp of blood and flesh where it should have been. It was dressed in scrubs. Little pink sprays of flowers scattered over the fabric, half-obscured by bloodstains. There was no way they were alive. You have to check, he told himself, though a large part of him rebelled. They might still be suffering. You have to check. Neil crouched down. No way. No way to even breathe... He extended his hand anyway, pawing at the motionless wrist that lay closest. It was warm and his fingers sank into something wet. He gagged, but held on, turning the nurse's arm so he could figure out where the pulse should be. There was another chunk missing. That's what he'd felt. A ragged hole in the skin, just where his fingers rested. "I'm sorry," he whispered, trying to move his fingers. He wasn't sure how long he should wait to feel a heartbeat. Surely, not as long as he did. But he could hear his own pulse thundering behind his ear and he couldn't be sure if it were his or the body's. He wanted to be certain. So he held on much longer than necessary. At last, when he was certain there wasn't even the faintest thud against his fingertips and the person's chest didn't move even with a shallow breath, he gently released the arm to the floor and wiped his hand on the hand towel next to the sink. "Sorry," he said again, though he wasn't sure why. He thought about moving the body but wasn't sure how. Or to where. He wriggled his way out of the bathroom again and closed the door. He'd tell the police how he found the nurse when all this was over. What about Dante? They do the same to him? Is he lying in some other room like this? What the hell is going on? No, no. They let him go. Has to be. The body was the cleaning person getting the room ready for another patient, he tried to convince himself. But he knew it wasn't true. Dante would have called him. Or come to get him. No way he'd just leave without telling Neil. No, Dante was still in the hospital somewhere. Neil hoped he was alive. How on Earth am I going to find him? This place is massive. Gotta get help. Find a nurse or a policeman or— get out of here, find someone who knows what the hell is going on. I'll send them back for Dante and— that body. No more detours.

9

Neil ran from Dante's room, sprinting to the stairwell and clattered down, too desperate to get out to care how much noise he made. He just had to get to the doors or another person. He needed to find some help and the whole insane, upsetting mess would be behind him. A flight and a half down, a door crashed open. Neil froze and the sounds of a struggle echoed up the steps. The stairs' turn prevented Neil from seeing who it was or how many. A shriek reverberated off the cinder block walls and then a thump that made the railing shiver under his hand. You have to help, he urged himself, but his feet refused to move. He glanced up the stairs. There's only one way out. Up is just putting it off. You have to help. For your own sake, too. Help with what? The cop had a gun and couldn't stop it. The grunting and thumps of the fight grew louder and another wail erupted from below him. Neil forced himself down a step. Two. His legs felt too stiff. Brittle. He clutched the railing hard enough for his hands to cramp and start to slip with his sweat, but it was a distant sensation. His heartbeat was so loud in his ears that it made the fight below him seem muffled. He'd reached the landing and crouched down. It took a second to work up enough courage to look around the corner. What if it's Dante? Or Mom? What if she came to help you and it's her down there? What if Randi's with her? The idea broke his paralysis and he swung around the corner.

But it wasn't Dante or his mother. A woman in a once-white apron and tattered plastic gloves grappled with a man in a shirt suit and pants. They were both bloody, the woman clearly bitten in several places on her arms and hands, the indented tooth-mark rings already bruising.

"Shit," she gasped when she saw Neil standing frozen a few stairs up. "Tell me you aren't crazy too."

"I don't know anymore."

"Help!" she cried, kicking out against the man who strained against her outstretched arms, teeth snapping.

"What should I—" he broke off as the man broke free of her grip and lunged for her, making the woman stumble backward and trip. Neil dashed down the remaining steps and plowed into the man's side with his shoulder. They careened into the stairwell wall and the man let out a surprised whoosh of air.

"Go, go!" the woman shouted, yanking on Neil's wrist. He scrambled to get clear of the man. The woman dragged him into the corridor but then stopped. Neil gave her a push, his whole focus on the man he'd freed her from. He was up and through the door before it closed.

"Don't stop!" he yelled.

"One second." She held him back with one arm watching for the door to open again. "One— Now!" She lurched forward again as the door slammed open, pulling him after her. The man behind them yelled, an incoherent roar of rage. Its wordlessness sent a chill through Neil and he didn't hesitate, sprinting down the hallway with no idea of where they were headed.

"Here Shay, in here!" cried a woman's voice.

A glass door ahead swung open. The thin, frightened woman holding it waved them on, looking ready to bolt inside if they took too long.

"It'll never hold," gasped the woman with him. "We need to—"

"No time!"

Neil glanced back over his shoulder. The man ran pell-mell, sliding over the polished floor toward them. Pink spit slicked the side of his face and hung in sticky threads from his jaw. His hands reached for Neil. Neil shoved Shay further ahead and she toppled her friend. Neil caught the door and swung around behind it, holding it open.

The man growled and sprang at him. Neil smashed his fist into the man's shoulder and he tilted sideways. Neil cried out in pain as one of his stitches popped, but still bashed the man with the door to push him farther in. Another smash and the door was closed. Neil pressed his back against it even as the man inside flung himself at the glass.

"Oh no," cried Shay's friend, "that was our shelter."

Neil didn't know whether to apologize or not.

"Better this way, Maisy," groaned Shay, picking herself up. "Gift shop wasn't exactly the best place to hide. Quick, lock it so he can't get loose again."

Maisy stood up, fumbling in the pockets of her tidy blue apron. The door banged against Neil's back and he tried to jam himself against it more tightly. Maisy flinched and the keys rang lightly.

"Get it locked," he told her, trying to be patient. "Won't be able to hold it too much longer. He'll be able to break the glass before long either way. We need to get away from here."

She nodded and reached past him. The door jiggled with another impact. "Can't lock it if he keeps opening it," she said.

Shay pressed her hands against the door, helping Neil hold it closed. "Now," she said, "lock it now."

The key twisted and snapped. Maisy burst into tears, holding up the stump. "It's okay," said Neil, feeling the thud as the man threw himself into the door. "It's locked, you did it." He took a tentative step from the door, half expecting it to fly open, but it held. Maisy cried harder. Neil leaned against a wall to catch his breath and stop his legs from shaking so badly.

"Poor Dan. How're they going to get him out?"

Shay put her arm around the other woman. "Don't worry. When they figure this out, they'll get a locksmith or go in through the window. Dan'll be okay. Let him just— just cool off. We need to get somewhere safe."

"Need to get out of the building," said Neil. "There's— more like him up on the third floor. If— if this is the same thing. And I heard gunshots. Lots of them."

"Can't get out," Shay whispered, creeping down the hallway while Maisy clutched her arm, "they've got cops and who knows what outside. Under quarantine, they told us. We have to wait it out. They sent a group in. That was yesterday. Had us holed up in the conference rooms while they went through the other floors to deal with— whatever this is." Shay shook her head. Neil trailed after her. "Haven't seen them since. And then last night, one of the guys they left to guard us just— lost it. Attacked one of the lab techs. Everyone scattered in little groups. Maisy and Dan and I— we were okay until this morning." She glanced back at the gift shop door as it shuddered again. "Gotta find somewhere to hole up. I need some bandages. Probably a tetanus shot. Going to the cafe. There's food there and water. Who knows how long this'll last? Anyone still— normal will show up there eventually, looking for food or people. And it's better than standing around here waiting for another one of the crazies to find us, anyway."

"Quarantine? For what?" whispered Neil. He was utterly lost, but neither woman answered him. None of it made any sense, but he had no idea what else to do and they were headed back toward the hospital entrance anyway, so he followed them to the end of the corridor. Maisy wiped her eyes with the back of a hand but stayed silent. Shay peered around the corner to the lobby. She turned back to them and held a finger to her lips. She pointed across the large open area to the large, cheery doors with a cursive "cafe" painted over them. Neil didn't see anyone in the lobby. It made him nervous that she indicated they should be quiet when he couldn't see anyone. He craned to look around the corner. He could see the front doors. It sent a deep chill through him to see the golden-yellow of fresh plywood pressed against the glass where they'd been nailed. They truly were trapped here. This is insane. This isn't how quarantines work, is it? They don't just dump you and let you battle it out, what the hell is that? But what if they did? It's a hospital, he told himself, there must be other doors. Loads of them. Fire doors and delivery doors and— cafeteria, we're going to the cafeteria. All kitchens had at least one door to the outside. There had to be a door they missed. Or a window. He just had to slip out. Talk to the police or whoever was in charge. They must not know—

Shay pulled his wrist again, breaking him out of his panic. She crouched down, crept across the lobby carpet, stopping behind one of the couches while Neil and Maisy caught up. The bite marks on her arms were oozing blood, and she was sweating heavily and grimacing in pain. Forget it, he warned himself. Not your problem. Shay slid a ring of keys from her pocket, careful to keep them pressed against her thigh so they wouldn't rattle.

"Just a second. Catch my breath and find the key. We'll be inside before you know it," she whispered.

"How do we know there aren't more of them in there?" Neil whispered.

"Locked it up myself last night when they grabbed us and took us to the conference room. There was nobody in there and the police told me to keep the keys. I wanted to make sure we had enough food for the quarantine." Maisy's arm brushed Shay's and she hissed through her teeth in pain. She's in trouble, he told himself. We're all in trouble. How on Earth are we supposed to stay here? They can't just leave us like this—

"Let's go," whispered Shay, clenching a fist around the keys. Neil peered over the back of the couch. Nothing that he could see. Shay glanced up at him and he nodded. Maisy helped her to her feet and they dashed to the door. Shay jabbed the key into the lock. Maisy clawed at the handle almost before the key had turned, but there'd been no need to panic. It swung silently open without anyone or anything wandering into the lobby. Shay locked it again behind them.

"We should move away from the glass. I don't see anyone but— might be best not to announce ourselves. At least not before we've had a minute to breathe." She led the way through the dark room, instinctively threading between tables Neil could barely see. Maisy slammed a hip into one with a thud that seemed loud in the still room.

"They could have left the skylight unboarded at least," she whispered, rubbing her bruised leg. "Doesn't even open anyway."

They passed through a swinging door and Shay closed it completely behind them before flipping on the bright kitchen lights.

"Seems like you've had practice at hiding from— whatever this is," Neil observed.

"It's been a long night," sighed Maisy, shoving a kitchen towel into the crack at the bottom of the door. Neil pushed deeper into the kitchen, looking for any door or window. Plywood pressed against the windows near the pantry. Neil found the back door but he rattled the handle in frustration after finding it locked. "Don't you have the key to this?" he called back to the others. Shay just sagged onto a hard wooden stool that was shoved between the corner of the line and the tiled wall.

"Won't do you any good anyway. There's wood over it too."

He came back to the prep line. "We can kick through it. Or— Jesus it's a kitchen, there's got to be something in here to use to cut it off."

Shay shook her head. "You think Maisy and I haven't already looked over the whole kitchen for an open exit? Yeah, we could probably break down the wood, but what then? You think they just boarded it over and walked away?" She pointed to a glassed-in room. "See for yourself. Computer's in the office, look us up. The television broadcasts are bullshit, but the local people know what's going on. Been posting pictures of this place. And phone calls. There are soldiers outside. Not just three guys from the local PD sitting by their car, real soldiers. A lot of them. Go look."

He followed Maisy into the little kitchen office and stood behind her as she pulled up pictures of the hospital. The entire front was paneled with fresh plywood. Several military jeeps were parked across each spot where an entrance should be. Maisy found a video someone had taken of a group of people trying to get to the hospital. They shouted at a large group of grim-faced officers who blocked their path to the hospital.

"It's for your protection," said a nervous man in a lab coat. "Until we isolate what's causing the outbreak, we can't risk exposing—"

"My mother is in there!" cried one of the people.

"If your mother was stable and her exposure was unlikely, she's been evacuated to—"

Someone shoved the man in the lab coat and the video abruptly exploded into shouts before cutting out.

"This is only the front of the hospital," said Neil.

Maisy looked back at him. "Those soldiers have weapons. You think they'd be standing there with weapons in the front and leave the back unguarded?"

"They aren't going to use those. They're just for show. This is— this is illegal, isn't it? They can't keep us in here like this. We haven't done anything wrong."

"You said you heard gunshots," Maisy pointed out.

"They must not know. What's happening here. What's really happening."

Maisy shook her head. "I don't know. The people who took us to the conference room had radios. They must have contacted somebody in charge by now."

"Have you? Did you try calling anyone?"

"Sure. We got the police last night at one point. They told us to stay put, that the national guard was handling things. We were trying to figure out how to contact them, but that's when Dan lost it. Look, maybe the best thing is to wait it out. The people in charge, they know what they're doing. They'll send more security, they have to. If we just stay put until they get here, we'll be okay. Except— except Shay. She's in bad shape. I need to figure out how to help her."

Neil glanced out at Shay who had closed her eyes as she leaned against the tile wall. She looked much worse under the harsh industrial lights. The bite marks he could see were deeper than he had thought at first and blood had trickled in wide stripes over her arm. The tracks of someone's fingernails trailed over her left cheek. He wondered if there were worse in places he couldn't see. He left the office. "You still— are you awake?" he asked.

Shay sat up and opened her eyes. She gingerly peeled off the remnants of the kitchen gloves. "Thought these would keep me from catching whatever this is," she said wryly and lifted one bleeding arm to look at the bites. "Kind of seems pointless now."

"We need to get you cleaned up," said Neil. "You're going to need some stitches I think."

"Well— at least this is the best place to be for it. Maybe a doctor will show up who isn't nuts."

"What if no one does?" asked Maisy.

"Then we'll wrap up the bites in bandages until the quarantine's over."

"But what if that's how it happens? Bites like this?"

Shay scowled. "Stop that nonsense. You've been watching too many horror movies Maisy. Though— if it's in the saliva or something..."

"You're talking about the crazy people— the guy who attacked you? There were more upstairs. Nurses, I think. Are they sure it's not a drug?" asked Neil.

"They don't seem sure of anything. But they wouldn't have quarantined us if they thought it was a drug, would they?" asked Maisy. "Didn't even know they did quarantines anymore."

"Did they say how long?"

Shay shook her head.

"I mean— if it's a few hours, that's one thing but a few days— bandages aren't going to cut it, Shay. You need help. Even assuming whatever is turning people crazy isn't infectious, other things are. They kept me here for two days for one bite," he said, holding up his bandaged hand. He frowned at the small dark spots that had appeared on the fabric. He might need more stitches, too.

"I don't think we have much choice. If someone shows up, then they show up. And if no one does, I'd rather wait. I don't think a dirty needle and some old string are going to make the situation any better. Assuming we could even find that in here. There's a first-aid kit behind the line, but I don't think it's got any surgical supplies in it." She tilted her head toward the rear of the kitchen. Neil could see the small, dirty red box bolted to the wall. Probably as empty as the one at work. Ironic. Cobbler's children, he thought.

"A first-aid kit that's probably got three bandaids and a rolled-up tube of burn cream. Am I right?" he asked.

Shay sighed. "It's been a while since I had to use it. But what choice do we have?"

He battled the urge to do something stupid for this stranger, but he knew he'd already lost.

I've got to help her. Bandages aren't going to help. She's going to get a bad infection. I left that cop. And Dante. Always wanted to believe I'd do better in something like this. Always wanted Randi to believe I'd do better. Jesus, what would she say if she could see me now? What would Joan say? Coward. That's what she'd say. What she always thought, too. Come on, Neil. I've got to help. Got to do one redeemable thing today. Just one.

"We're in a hospital," was all he said out loud. "We should at least be able to get you some sterile supplies. I saw a sign for a lab in the lobby—"

"You want to go wandering around the hospital after what you just saw?" asked Shay.

"No," he admitted, "But you're seriously hurt. Other people are going to come by. They're going to be hurt too. If we really are trapped here for a few days, then someone's got to get supplies so we're ready."

"You don't understand. We're not talking about one pissed off accountant here. Dan's not alone. There's more of them, lots more, unless they all slaughtered each other in the past two hours. Plus, those gunshots you heard are probably the police who came in to help, but I don't know if they'll stop to ask if you're a biter or not before they start shooting. I don't think I've got it in me to deal with more of either—"

"I'm not going to wander around. Going to get to the lab and find one of those cart things or a travel case or something. Quick, in and out. We have to disinfect those bites or you're not going to have to worry about the crazy people. And we're both going to need some pain killers. I really need some relief, Shay. Don't you?"

She hesitated.

Some rational part of him, some desperate voice of self-preservation warned him not to say what he intended to. It's a shitty idea Neil. You know it's a shitty, stupid idea. Don't. But the cop's face as he bolted overrode the sane part of him. The need to alleviate his shame talked louder. "I'll go alone," he offered.

"Why?"

"Look, it's not just you. I'm hurt too." he held up his bandaged hand. He could feel a damp trickle already starting. "I think I may have broken my stitches back there. And I've got a friend in here somewhere. He's not in his room, but there was blood near his bed. He's hurt somewhere. I don't know how I'm going to find him, but when I do, he'll need help. You don't want to take on responsibility for me, that's okay. You can tell yourself I'm doing it for my own self-interest. Just show me the quickest way to get there."

"It's bad. The whole place is bad. The lobby was— people all trying to get out. Don't know where they've gone. It can't be anywhere good."

"All the more reason not to wait. The lobby's empty now, but it might not stay that way. I'll be careful. Quiet. It can't be more than what? A few hundred feet?"

"The ER doctors who were still— normal said they were going to the lab just before things went sideways," interjected Maisy. "Remember? They wanted to work instead of sitting in the conference room. That captain— or whatever he was, he agreed. Sent them with a bunch of security."

"They're probably dead by now, Maisy," said Shay. "With what happened in the conference room— it must have happened with some of them, too. The ER doctors would have been in contact with whatever this is a lot more than Dan or that policeman was. If anyone was going to get this, it would have been them."

"We don't know that," said Maisy. "For all we know, they're working in the lab right now, completely unaware of what's going on out here. They could walk right into some of the crazies or go back to the conference rooms not knowing—"

"They don't know about the biters?" asked Neil.

"Well— I mean they know what happens to the sick people. They were the ones who called the CDC. But I don't know if they know which people are sick. We didn't know Dan was. I don't think Dan even knew he was. Or the people who snapped in the conference room. They seemed perfectly normal. A little drunk maybe, but after being rounded up and forced into a conference room for hours, I can't really blame them for sneaking a sip or two. The point is, if the doctors are still doing things in the blood lab, then they'll be able to help."

"And someone owes it to them to warn them," added Neil. "Not leave them to find out the way I did."

Shay shook her head. "It's too risky. You want to warn them? Go ahead, the phone's right there near the walk-in. They're still working, last I checked. The extension list is tacked beside it."

"No," hissed Maisy, "that's what drew the crazies toward the gift shop, remember? Damn phone ringing off the hook brought them straight to us. You can't call. In fact, we should rip the damn thing out of the wall so no one can call here—"

"Don't do that," cried Shay. "I need to talk to the kids. I need to hear they're safe."

Shit, thought Neil. She's got kids too. You have to go. You have to help her.

"I'm going," he said and wheeled around to the door.

Shay grabbed his wrist, her hand damp and warm from the blood coating it. Neil flinched but stopped. "You might bring something back with you and then what do we do? Cafe's the last best place—"

"If I do, I'll circle around until I can lose them. We're going to need stuff. More people will end up here, you said so yourself."

"Why do you want to do this so badly? You don't even know me. This is a stupid risk. You're going to get yourself killed."

"If I don't try then what's the alternative? Sit here and watch you lose blood or get some fever or— get sick like your friend did?" asked Neil. "Wait for other people to stumble by worse off than you or me?"

"No skin off your nose," said Shay, wincing as she tried to move one of her wounded arms into a more comfortable position. "I'm a stranger. I'm certainly not going to risk my neck for you if it comes to that later. Not unless I find out you're— I don't know, some super-scientist who can save us all or something. I've got kids. They're more important to me than anyone in here. You understand? Not going to leave them motherless for a stranger."

Neil nodded. "I get it. I've got a girl, too. And she's why I need to do this. You don't know what I already saw today. What I did. Or— what I didn't do. One of those cops came to my room, fighting one of the crazy people. I— left him. I ran. I panicked and ran. And then— I tried to help my friend, but he was gone. Some dead nurse in his room. I left the body. The nurse probably has a family too. But they're lying there on a dirty bathroom floor upstairs because I'm a coward. And my friend— who knows. Maybe he's wandering the halls somewhere, looking for help. Maybe he got out before all this. Maybe he's in the lab with the doctors. All I know is that I can't be the reason anyone else dies. Not today. We're going to get back to our kids. We will. And when we do, I want to be able to look Randi in the eye, understand?"

"Not really," said Shay.

"Let him go, Shay," whispered Maisy. "What does it matter? If he comes back, we'll be better off. He doesn't— we didn't know him anyway. And no worse off than we are now."

Thanks a lot, lady, Neil thought, but didn't protest. If it came to it, Shay was right. He didn't really know anything about them either. Didn't need to. They'd all be safer together for the time being, but they weren't going to set up housekeeping or anything. Quarantine would be what? A few days at most? He didn't intend to wait that long to find a way out, but if there were no other way, there was safety in numbers but only if none of them were a liability. That meant getting Shay some help before things got worse. And hopefully figuring out if she was going to snap like the other people he'd seen.

Shay sighed. "Out in the lobby, follow the orange line on the linoleum. Another three hundred yards or so. Don't go farther than that— next area's the ER. You don't want to go in there. Trust me. Nothing good is happening down there and I don't know if security managed to lock it before everything started."

Neil nodded. "Maisy, watch the door so I don't need to make noise when I come back." She followed him out into the dark cafe.

"If you bring any crazies back, don't expect me to unlock it," Maisy warned him.

"I won't. Don't worry about me. Just— keep an eye on Shay. Don't let her— I dunno. Don't let her fall asleep. I think that'd be bad."

"That's for concussions," said Maisy, unlocking the door. "But I'll do what I can for her. She's been my friend a lot longer than you."

"I get it," he said. "I'll be back in a little bit." He leaned out the door, looked carefully around the lobby and as far down the corridor as he could. Some dark stains on the lobby rug but nothing else. The orange line started on the linoleum just a little farther on. He could see it bright and crisp running down the empty corridor. He darted out of the door and past the last open area of the lobby into the hallway and stopped to look around. A soft click told him Maisy had locked the door behind him. She stood against the glass looking at him for a second. Neil just nodded and she turned away, dissolving into the dark cafe's interior.

10

What the hell is going on? he thought, jogging down the bright orange line. The quiet was broken only by the soft piano playing over the PA system. Some administrator's idea to soothe anxious patients and families, no doubt, but it grated on Neil's nerves. And the abrupt chime of an announcement made him jump while a too-friendly voice reminded him to wear a mask in the waiting room. It took a few seconds of returning piano music to unwind the muscles that had frozen with the chime. He continued on. Office after office and he began seeing signs for the ER. Too far? he wondered, but the orange line still ran down the center of the hall.

He turned a corner and a long wide smear of blood trailed down the corridor floor. Just at the end, before it turned again, something lumpy and dark lay motionless across it. The small sign for the lab entrance hung just above it. He stood still, waiting for some kind of movement. Or a sound. Gotta help, he told himself, that person's hurt. Carry them into the lab. There's got to be a gurney in there or something. A cart. Anything. Get them in there, you can roll them back to the cafe. The way back's clear, you know that for sure at least. He wanted to turn around. Just hoof it back to the cafe and lock himself in. Or better, lock himself in and then figure out how to open the kitchen door without getting shot. They could use the old aprons or kitchen towels to clean up Shay, couldn't they?

Already had this argument, Neil. Just get it done. Still, he hesitated. This is stupid. Really, really stupid. He forced himself forward. He couldn't leave the person there. Why not? You left that cop, he told himself. Cop had a gun. He must have got hold of it before— before. But there was the nurse too, in Dante's room. They'd been dead. Nothing he could do for them. This one's probably dead too. They're not moving. That's a lot of blood. The large smear only thickened as he drew closer to the lump, ending at last in a wide, tacky puddle that reminded Neil of thin gelatin left in the fridge too long.

The lump had a face, but there were large chunks torn from his clothes and ragged flaps of skin left exposed. Gore covered his arms and throat, and there was a massive wound clearly visible in his thigh. Probably the one that eventually killed him. It bothered Neil more than the nurse had, somehow. The man's eyes were still open. Maybe that was why. Or that his mouth hung ajar and his lips stained with more blood. Neil wondered if it were his own or if he'd been another of the crazy people. Maybe two of them had attacked each other and the winner had just left. There were footprints farther down the hall. Heavy boot treads in dark maroon, weaving back and forth over the red line that pointed to the ER. Neil knelt to check the man because he knew he'd think about it later if he didn't, though it was very clear the man was deceased. He hadn't blinked or moved and the blood around him was half dry. But Neil stuck his fingers to the remains of the man's wrist anyway, needing to be absolutely certain. There was no extra warmth in the man's skin. It was like touching a piece of soft leather, as cool as the hospital's air-conditioned hall. He didn't wait as long as he had with the nurse. He was certain the man had been dead a while. He hoped it meant whoever had done it was long gone.

Get a weapon, he told himself. Scalpel or needle— hell, a heavy stapler, something. And stop hanging around. Can't help this guy. Neil got up but looked back at the body. Can't leave him. Even that nurse was in a private bathroom. No one is going to see them or stumble over them. Can't leave this guy out here for anyone to find. The thought was nonsensical. Pointless. Still, he knew he wasn't going to be able to walk away from it. It didn't matter that it was a risk to pick the guy up. Didn't matter that it was going to mean staying out of the safety of the cafeteria for longer. He had to do it. I started this little jaunt because it was the right thing to do, he reminded himself. Best to keep to that goal. Pick up the body. At least put it in the lab, out of the hallway. At least that much. It's the right thing. He crouched down, got a hand under each of the man's arms. The weight pressing on his injury made him suck in a surprised breath, but he didn't drop the man. The body was too stiff to lift into an easy position, so he dragged it slowly toward the lab door. The man's feet dragged through the congealing puddle of blood and left shallow trenches of clear floor to interrupt the stain. Neil paused to listen a moment at the door and edged it open with one shoulder. It was silent. Nothing leaped out at him or scrabbled against the door. He backed into the frosted glass door and pushed it open with one foot. He struggled to get the man through the doorway, flinching as one of the man's hands flopped against the frame with a dull thud. The corpse was heavy and it took some maneuvering to pull it around a solid coffee table. Neil was sweating by the time he laid it down next to the neat line of vinyl chairs. But at least it was done. He looked at it one more time, wiping his hands on the sides of his jeans and then looked around himself. The small waiting room smelled like carpet cleaner and stale coffee. There were no signs of a struggle, nothing to hint at the violent death that had happened just outside. The magazines lay in precise rows across the coffee table and the registration cubicles were tidy and silent, fake flowers tucked into the corner of two of them and someone's kids smiling in the photos taped to the sides of a filing cabinet. The piano music and the tick of an old analog clock were the only sounds. Neil tried the door to the interior of the lab, but it was locked. Had to be another way in. Or a key card in one of the registration cubicles. Something. He shimmied over the top of the nearest cubicle and ducked under the Plexiglas guard. His elbow knocked over a mug filled with pens and sent the keyboard flying. Sorry, he thought, though he wasn't certain why. He tried to brace himself on the office chair but it rolled away, dropping him face-first onto the plastic rug protector. He groaned as he hit and crawled free of the desk.

"Shit!" he heard someone say beyond the connecting door to the lab. A hissed "shhh" followed.

He crept toward it, trying to hear, but the sound didn't repeat. "Hello?" he asked softly, his hand on the doorknob. He didn't want it to fling open. Not until he was ready or knew they wouldn't attack. He risked a soft knock. "Not crazy. I'm with some people. We need help."

Something brushed against the other side of the door. "Where'd you go after the conference room? Who'sh with you? Anyone i'fected?"

"How would he know that?" scolded the other voice.

"He came back to the lab, maybe he'sh a—"

"I wasn't in a conference room," interrupted Neil, whispering into the crack. The wait was making him nervous. "Just escaped my room when a policeman opened the door. I ran into a lady from the cafe. She needs some bandages. Maybe stitches. Someone who knows more about medicine than I do. The lab was closest so I came to get what we need and to warn whoever I found."

"Your room?"

"Jesus, Cody, it's a patient. Open the door, for goodness sake."

The door inched open slightly. Neil saw an eye appear in the gap. He didn't let go of the doorknob, ready to slam the door closed again if necessary. "Is that true? You a patient?"

Neil nodded.

"Are there more of you on your floor?" asked the other voice.

"I— I'm not sure. We were locked in. I looked into some of the rooms when I left, but I was in a hurry. People were chasing me. The ones I saw were— they were violent. Checked on my friend a few doors down, but he wasn't there, just a dead body in the bathroom. Like the one outside. I didn't stick around."

The door opened a little wider and the eye became a man's face. "Shaid you were with people though."

"Two others. Found them in the stairwell. They're at the cafe. Look, if you're the doctors I'm looking for, Shay said you left the conference room before things got bad. You need to know about the sick people, they're—"

"Irrational and violent. We know. You said your friends are in the cafe, that's good. Food and water and facilities there," said the voice behind the man. The man glanced over his shoulder. "Dunno Debbie— we dunno anything about 'em. Could be trying to get sssomething from us."

"Like what?" asked Neil. "I came to get some first aid supplies, that's it. I'd appreciate the help of a doctor, but if I can't find one who's willing, we'll find a way to manage. Going to fix up the people I'm with and then we're going to look for a way out of here. Or— I'll look for a way, if they feel safer here. That's it. I'll take information if you've got that, but otherwise, it's a big hospital. I can go find supplies at any nursing station—"

"We're better off together," came the voice from farther in. "Let him in. We give you supplies, agree to patch up your friends, you take us back to the cafe, right?"

Neil peered past the man's shoulder to see a woman in a ripped lab coat. The same doctor who'd treated him the first night. She had a bruise on her jaw and was holding a wad of gauze to her arm. He was alarmed and angry to see her. If you'd just released me last night, none of this would be my problem. But it was too late to do anything about it now. And she was just as stuck as he was.

"I'm not a cop or anything," he warned her. "I can't protect you. Don't even have a plan other than to find a door."

"I'm not asking you to lead or anything. Just help us get back to the cafe. It's safer if we're together in case one of those people jump us. Besides, Cody's in building maintenance. If you're actually serious about breaking the quarantine and finding a way out, there's nobody better to help you find a door they overlooked. You need me, too."

Neil shook his head. "I'm not in charge. I'm happy to take you, but I can't promise anything. I can't say for sure what the people at the cafe will say."

"You'll need me. You said there were injuries. I've been an ER doctor for years. I'll barter services for protection if you won't do it for the sake of kindness."

"Look, I'm not negotiating with you. If you want to come to the cafe, I'm not stopping you. Just telling you I'm not a bodyguard or anything. You want to help me get out, I'm grateful to you. You don't want to risk it, I get it. Either way, you don't have to bargain with me. Just— don't keep me standing out here. There's at least one person with a gun and who knows how many more just frenzied. Someone was killed right outside the lab. Let me in or shut the door."

The woman nodded to the man in front of Neil, and he relented, swinging the door wide enough for Neil to enter. Neil slipped in, then sagged against the wall with relief.

"Thanks," he said.

11

"There's a body. Out in the waiting room. I thought it'd be better than leaving it in the hall. He was a person before today. Thought you should know, so it didn't scare you," said Neil. "I don't— I'm not meant for this." He wiped his face, surprised that he was so sweaty.

"I don't think any of us are. We weren't ready for anything like this. I've seen psych cases before, plenty in the ER over the years, but not all at once and not— nothing even close to what's happened in the past few days. It isn't the first body we've seen. I mean— outside of my normal work. It was kind of you to move him." She fell silent again for a moment. "Look— I was just trying to get Cody to help me seal up this bite." She stared at the soaking gauze pad under her fingers.

The man took a shaky breath. "Not great with blood," he admitted, "leash, not when iss still inside a person. Sorry, Debbie."

"Don't suppose you'd be willing to help, Mr. Newton?"

"You can call me Neil. What about the people at the cafe?"

"It's a full lab," said Debbie, "take what you like. But if you help me first, my hand will be free to help your friends."

"I— I wasn't saying I wouldn't help, just that maybe we should get there first."

"It's sterile here. Light's better and there are spare supplies if we need them."

Neil hesitated. "I just know basic first aid, lady. I work in a kitchen. I know how to get people to the hospital, not how to fix them once they're here."

"I'll walk you through it. Everything's all set up, look." She tipped her head toward a nearby counter. A blue napkin was spread near the sink, half a dozen small plastic packets lined up on top of it.

"Yeah. Yeah, okay. You— what's your name again?" he asked the man. He looked glassy-eyed, distant or dizzy. Neil was afraid he'd pass out. It took him a few seconds to answer.

"Cody," he said at last.

"You okay, man? You need to sit down?"

"Nah, nah, I'm okay."

Neil nodded slowly. "Okay then. You think you could gather up some supplies? Bandages, disinfectant, whatever looks— useful? Just need a little bit to get through until we get out of here. But we might find more people who need help."

Again, that slow pause. It made Neil think of the man in Furbish Park and he shivered. "Sure. Sure thing," Cody said.

"Good. I'll help your— friend here. See if you can find something to— I don't know, push back the crazy people or something. Something to keep them off us if they find us."

"You're talking about finding a weapon," said Debbie flatly.

"A— well, just something to keep them off. Don't know that—"

"They're just ill, Mr. Newton."

"Doesn't mean they aren't dangerous. The person who muckled on to you, they seem open to a well-reasoned argument?"

Debbie exchanged an uneasy look with Cody. "Ok. A weapon then. If we must. And only if we must."

"I'm no murderer, lady. I just want to be able to push them back if they try to bite. Until we figure out what's wrong with them."

"Yeah, okay," said Cody and took a few steps farther into the lab. He stumbled and caught himself against a phlebotomy chair before moving on. Neil stared after him.

"He in shock?" he whispered. Debbie shook her head.

"Likely infected. At least, from what I've seen of others. There seems to be a common set of symptoms. Clean your uninjured hand and use that bottle of gel. Then pull on the gloves. Going to want to get your bandage changed, too, looks like. That all your blood or not?"

"I— I'm not sure," he said. "Like I said, I found some bodies. Checked them, I wanted to be sure. If they were alive and I left one of them— I—"

"It's okay," she told him.

"It's not."

"No, you're right. It's not okay. What I meant was that you're doing well. The blood came from the bodies?"

He looked at the soaked bandage around his hand. "I think so. Or Shay's— the woman I found. Or mine. I think I ripped a stitch. Sorry," he said, feeling like he owed her the apology, but not certain why. It was, after all, her who had put the stitches in the first time.

"It's— don't worry about it. We'll check it, but if it was only one stitch, we probably won't need to do much, it'll keep healing. In the meantime, leave the bandage, but put a glove over it. The other hand though, wash and gel and then glove."

Neil gingerly stretched a glove over the bandages on his hand, trying not to snap the latex against his wound. There was a squeak from a door opening farther in and they both froze, waiting for something to come sprinting at them or for a shout. Nothing happened.

"Just Cody," breathed Debbie.

"What's he infected with?" he asked, wincing at the loud rush the sink made as he turned the faucet on.

"That's the question, isn't it? Whatever is causing people to have these— violent episodes."

"You sure it's not a— I don't know, chemical spill or like one of those secret LSD experiments or something?" Neil clumsily scrubbed at his fingers with the foaming soap that dribbled out of the dispenser. The glove and the bandage made it slow and awkward.

"The CDC seems awfully sure. Scrub all the way up to your elbows," said Debbie, sinking into one of the large chairs. Paper under her back crackled as it shifted.

"I know. I work with food, remember?"

"Sure. No offense. Just— we don't need to add sepsis on top of everything else. I'm not sure of anything yet. But if it were a toxin, it would be localized. Don't know if you've been watching the news for the past few days, but this is everywhere. I mean— I guess if someone dropped millions of gallons from an airplane crisscrossing the country then—"

"The country— this is everywhere?" He turned off the faucet, wishing the television in his room had had more than two channels. Or that he'd taken more time with that computer in the kitchen. After his phone died, he'd seen no national news at all.

"More than the country, I think. It's hard to tell what's— this and what's just humans being— human. Aside from what we saw ourselves in the ER, there were reports of massacres from New Delhi and riots in Paris before the cops put us in the conference rooms a few days ago. Cody's been obsessively checking his phone. He says there's video from London and Berlin this morning. I stopped looking after I saw footage of a fight in that massive mall in Pennsylvania. The news anchor actually started to make a shitty joke about holiday shoppers and then a lady ripped a chunk out of another shopper's breast and he shut up pretty quick. Wasn't long before other people around the original two joined in. That was enough for me to stop watching. I thought the best thing I could do was to try and figure out what's causing this. Been trying to narrow it down from the ER charts and some blood samples the lab had analyzed before everything shut down. If it's a disease, it must be something we haven't seen before. Except for the usual seasonal rash of strep throat and a rhinovirus that's been going around the neighborhood the past few weeks, there's nothing unusual in the blood work." Debbie shook her head. "The symptoms are so consistent. It has to be something we haven't recognized yet."

"What the hell is the quarantine for then? If this is already out there, why keep us locked in here with it? And why didn't you release me when I asked? I could be home— we could all be home now."

"I didn't release you because I needed to make sure you didn't have this, too. If I let you go and you infected your whole neighborhood, how would that be better? The truth is, we don't know how long this takes to show up. But we are starting to realize what happens when it does. And we know there were several people at that parade who were exhibiting clear symptoms. I'm sorry that the people in charge panicked or weren't trained or were incompetent. I'm sorry this whole situation wasn't handled more rationally and safely. And I'm sorry you and I were both unfortunate enough to get caught up in this. But I did my job. I'm doing my best to protect my patients and the outside world. We don't have to be friends, Neil, but I think we're going to need to work together if we want to get through this. If I made a bad decision, we can fight about it after we get out of here, okay?"

Neil sighed and nodded, holding up his gloved hands to show her he was ready.

"Face mask," said Debbie. "As for why they put the quarantine in place when there are all those other reports— they have to try to contain it. Most reported cases have been limited to hospitals, though that may just be where they are letting us see. The mall— I don't know if the people in charge have made the connection yet. Still too early to really say. I doubt we're the only hospital to be quarantined." There was a small crash from farther down the lab, and she jumped. Neil listened for a moment, but only Cody emerged.

"Sorry," he whispered, dropping a small leather bag into one of the chairs and disappearing again. When nothing came running after a few breaths of silence, the tension began to drain away.

Neil turned back to the tools.

"This isn't like darning a hole in your socks, okay?" said Debbie. "I've already cleaned it, that much I could do one-handed. Find your needle, the package is on your right. Careful not to puncture your glove. Hand me that pack on your left. I can do the lidocaine myself."

Neil's breath was humid against his face under the mask. He felt too hot. It's okay, he told himself, not even the worst thing you saw today. You can do this. Deep breath, think of it like trussing. Same feel. But it wasn't. It was too warm, too liquid and his hands shook. He tried not to notice Debbie's sharp inhale when he pulled the torn skin carefully up and pushed the curved needle through. "Does it still hurt?" he asked. "Should I wait?"

"No. More the— anticipation of it hurting. Keep going."

He squinted at the tangled mess of toothmarks and what looked like deep nail scratches while the blood welled up obscuring things. "Not sure how to fix this. It's not— like a straight line or anything."

Debbie glanced down, wiped away the blood with the gauze again.

"Here to here," she said, pointing. "And down there, in a crescent, see?"

"But the other cuts—"

"Those will close on their own if I keep them bandaged. Just focus on the deepest parts."

"Okay."

12

She was silent a few moments, but he could feel her watching every pass of the needle.

"You're doing well," she offered awkwardly.

"So are you," he mumbled. He tried not to feel the thick pressure it took for his fingers to push the needle through or the way everything smelled astringent and dead. "What are the symptoms, then? And why are you still tagging along with Cody if you think he's infected?" he asked.

"Just— focus on what you're doing. We'll talk later."

"I am focusing. Listening helps me concentrate. That lame piano music would be okay except the announcements keep cutting in and jumping the heck out of me. I need something even."

"I'm tagging along with Cody— or, he's tagging along with me, because we're safer together. He's showing symptoms, yes, but he hasn't gone into a rage, the way some of the other patients did. Maybe he has a milder case. Maybe it's a longer incubation. I don't know. But even if I did, what am I supposed to do? Those people— the ones who've lost it, you were right. They don't stop. There's no snapping them out of it. If I hadn't been with Cody when that security guard went crazy, he would have done worse than this. I can't leave him alone while they're wandering the hospital. For either of our sakes."

"How did he stop the guard?" Neil winced as he pulled the stitches a little tighter, but she seemed not to notice.

"He— hit him in the head. There were more of us, originally. Eight doctors and five security and Cody because he has most of the keys. A majority of them wanted to come here first. But there were other people in the ER that the cops refused to evacuate. People on breathing machines and— just people who couldn't be moved. We— knew this might be coming. The staff. Got as many patients as we could be certain didn't show any symptoms moved to another hospital as we could before the quarantine hit. But I didn't know they'd do— what they did. I thought we'd just keep working, you know?"

"Why'd they force you into the conference rooms?" asked Neil.

"There were so many people left in the hospital, even after what we tried to do. They wanted us where they could see us. For some reason, they thought everyone would be safer. The patients who couldn't be moved or who, like you, were almost definitely exposed, were abandoned. The people in charge promised to find another place for you. A wing where you could be treated. Probably in the ER, once they secured the rest of the building. It was only supposed to take a few hours. I'm— sorry, Neil. I truly thought we were doing what was best for you. Anyway, after a few hours, when the team securing the building didn't come back or call in, there was some— discussion. Heated discussion. Some of the security people sided with us. And we were allowed to go back to work. Some of us thought we should come right here and work on identifying the disease. I felt that we had an obligation to care for the patients we'd left. I wasn't the only one. We argued about it a while and finally decided to split up. Cody, an ER guard named Mark, and I would go back to the ER and treat the patients there, see if any of them could be moved and find a way to keep them safe. Then, we'd meet the others here. That was the plan, anyway. Another group was meant to check on your rooms and move anyone who wasn't showing symptoms to a closer wing. The last group was meant to come straight here and begin work. Cody and I haven't seen anyone since we split up. I can only assume the others ran into similar issues and didn't make it. Mark was symptomatic but not heavily. In the chaos, I thought he was only overtired. He and I had both finished eighteen-hour shifts in the ER just before the quarantine was declared and we were both exhausted. It was— relatively quiet on the way back to the ER. We had to trap one person. Guy had lost it at the vending machine. Raging and shrieking. He tipped it over, the whole thing and just screamed and screamed at it. If he'd noticed us— I don't think we'd be talking right now. He was the only one. He was enough, though. I think— I think taking care of him tipped Mark over the edge. Or maybe it was what we found in the ER. We made it back to the patient rooms. We went door to door to check people. We shouldn't have gone back. All the patients were dead. Worse than. They'd been mutilated. We got to the end of the hall and I looked back. Mark was just standing halfway back toward the entrance. He was— heaving. Breathing so hard I thought he might be going into heart failure. The shock maybe. I ran back to help him and that's when he snapped. All of this," she tipped her head toward the arm Neil was stitching, "was him. He had me pinned to the floor so fast, that I thought he was pushing me down to protect me. I actually tried to calm him down for a few seconds while he was biting. If Cody hadn't been there and realized what was going on, I'd be dead now. Cody grabbed an oxygen tank to do it. One blow to the head. I still don't know if Mark just lost consciousness or..."

Neil glanced up from her arm. "You ready to hit Cody in the head, if the same thing happens to him?"

"It won't."

"What if it does?"

"You'll be with us, right? You can do it yourself if you're so worried. These people aren't evil, they're just sick. I don't know with what yet, but I'll figure it out. We'll find a way to treat them and everything— well. We have to get back to the cafe before we start thinking about all that."

Neil gently pulled up the edge of loose skin in the lower wound so that he could work the needle in. "I didn't think they were evil, just dangerous. Are you really ready to bring him back to the cafe when he could be dangerous too? There are four other people to worry about."

"I don't even know if it's going to happen to him," Debbie whispered. "Or how long until it does. Maybe I figure it out— or some other doctor in a hospital that isn't a madhouse does, before he snaps. Maybe we cure it and what are we going to say to him on the other side? 'Sorry, we didn't trust you'? For all I know, the people who are losing it were already a little bit that way anyhow and the illness just pushed them over the edge. Cody's not. He's the kindest, gentlest person I—"

"He smashed your coworker in the head with an oxygen tank."

"He didn't want to hurt him—"

"I'm just saying, you never know what someone's capable of."

"I don't know what you're capable of either. Sick or no. So what's the solution? Lock ourselves into separate rooms and hope the quarantine ends before we starve to death?"

"If I didn't intend on getting out of here, that's exactly what I'd suggest," said Neil. "If you want to trust this guy, okay. I'll be ready if anything happens, but only because we're leaving in a matter of hours. I was ready to wait a few days for the quarantine to be over. But that was before I knew people were getting sick everywhere. We can't stay here knowing that it's already out there. I have family. We all do. We have to warn them. If Cody knows all the doors, we're going to try them. And after that, whichever windows aren't sealed shut. In the meantime, tell me those symptoms. I want to know what I'm looking for before he snaps. Or— with anyone else we run across."

"Yeah, all right. I guess that's fair. With some— they just snapped. Came in that way, sedated, strait-jackets, the whole thing. We see it a lot in the ER. I thought it was a rash of overdoses of something. Cathinones, most likely. But that was only in the beginning. Maybe they just came in after the other symptoms had passed. We saw them at— I don't know if it's the end stages, but at the stages where they could no longer answer questions and had usually attacked someone. They are completely non-verbal at that point. In the few days since then, I've seen several people reach that stage who weren't sick— or, they didn't present as sick. They're a little worn down, first. Just kind of fatigued and lacking concentration. Then they begin losing coordination. Tripping, stumbling, had a few nurses prick themselves on sharps. They start taking longer to complete tasks or have conversations. As if they forget partway through, what they were doing or like they can't remember a particular word. They slur slightly, too. As if they've been drinking or are just waking up suddenly, even when there are no apparent causes."

"Slur?" asked Neil quickly. The homeless man had been slurring a little. Evan, too. Even Dante had mentioned it. Dante— "My friend was slurring. I thought it was pain killers for his shoulder."

"Maybe it was."

"One of the bodies I found was in his room. A nurse."

She watched him for a second. "He was at the parade with you, right? That balloon accident?"

"Yeah."

"You said your friend had a shoulder injury?"

"Big bite, just under his neck. His name is Dante Owens. Room 311."

She was quiet for a minute. "Maybe it was the pain killers," she said again, but Neil could tell she doubted it.

"Did you move him to a new room? The body—"

She shook her head.

"But if he has whatever this is, then I—"

"Have you been stumbling? Slurring? Daydreaming?"

"N—no. Not that I remember."

"We don't know what it is yet. Or how it spreads. Don't— don't panic."

He laughed bitterly. "A couple of days too late for that."

"Take a deep breath."

He did, watching the doctor's bloody wrist swim out of focus in front of him. Dante had been his friend since before Randi had been born. He'd been there before Joan. And after. If—

Debbie's hand was on his shoulder.

"Don't panic," she told him. "Your friend may have escaped just like you. He might be hiding somewhere, waiting to get you out. As I said, it might have been the pain killers. I prescribed him some pretty heavy-duty stuff, he had some significant nerve damage in his shoulder. The best thing we can do is get back to the cafeteria and start making a safe place for people. Everyone still sane is going to end up there in a day or two, looking for food. We'll find him."

Neil nodded, refocused on her arm. He cleared his throat. "What happens after the slurring?" he asked, trying to blink away some sudden tears.

"After that, a general sort of irritability. They pick arguments that aren't there. That's what happened in the conference room. Lots of them. I thought it was the stress, but I don't know. I remember more of that before this all started. In the ER. Not generally a relaxed place but some of the conversations with patients were more confusing and upsetting than usual. And finally, something triggers this unbelievable anger. And they just start attacking. I— haven't really had an opportunity to observe symptoms after that. All I know is that I haven't seen anyone who has reached that angry stage— it's almost— almost rabid— I haven't seen anyone come back to their senses from that. The best we were able to do before they quarantined us and all hell broke loose was to keep people sedated. The upsetting thing is that their bodies seem to be mostly fine. There's nothing showing up physically beyond a cold or sore throat, seasonal stuff. But their minds..."

"Anyone not progress to that point?"

Debbie shook her head. "I don't know. Not who showed up in the ER, but if you were just fatigued and a little clumsy and cranky, would you come to the hospital? Most of the ones who showed up at the ER showed up for other reasons. Lots of them because they'd been attacked by someone who was already at that stage." She shuddered. "If this is as widespread as I think, I can't imagine how bad police holding cells are right now. There must have been dozens of arrests just from the victims I've seen alone. They'd just think it was normal assault. Probably just dismissing it as seasonal stresses. Except for the biting."

"Is— is that how it spreads?" asked Neil.

"I'm not even sure what it is. I can't tell you how it spreads. But Cody was slurring his speech and stumbling before we even went back to the ER and I don't think he'd been attacked at that point."

"You tested me for rabies three days ago. You never told me if I had it. Or whatever else this thing is. Your nurse started giving me antibiotics— am I—"

"I'm sorry," said Debbie. "I wish I could reassure you that you aren't infected, but the truth is, I'm not sure who is and who isn't. We just have to wait and hope. That's why they've got us quarantined. Look— I don't want to— endanger our cooperation here, but have you considered what it means to break quarantine? We could be infected or we could become infected. Any of us. Cody, the people you've found, you, me— we break quarantine and it could spread. You could infect your family and friends. Or do worse to them. Even if we aren't, we don't know what this thing is. We could carry it out on our skin, our clothes—"

Neil gently snipped the thread and stood up, his back creaking. "I'll do whatever quarantine they want. They want to stick us in some old prison somewhere and have a drone deliver our food, that's fine. As long as we're separated and safe. And someone cares that we're there. You locked me in my room for three days and I wasn't told any of this. In the past day, no one's come with food, no one answered the phone, the only information I got was from the two television channels that worked and one just showed game show reruns. I have a daughter, she was at the parade with me. She's with my mom, I haven't been able to reach them since yesterday. I don't know if anyone's told them there's a quarantine. We don't even know if the quarantine is working. You said there were reports from all over the world that could be this. It might already be loose. Something out there has gone wrong. You're the expert, does any of this quarantine seem normal to you?"

"Not at all," admitted Debbie. "But they'll send more security, they'll have to when they can't contact their team. We just have to sit tight a few hours until they do. Those other incidents might not even be this. Might be something else. Or they may already have been contained."

Neil shook his head. "You said you saw people in what you think are advanced stages. That means there are more people out there walking around not even knowing they're infected yet. The government's not going to know either. Randi's out there with them. My mom and my ex-wife— I'm not staying here with a bunch of rabid people roaming the halls. I need to find out if Randi's okay, and make sure my mom is somewhere safe with her. The people who ordered the quarantine can't leave us like this. They must not know how bad it is. They probably think everything's under control. It's been hours since the people in the conference room were attacked. And hours since the trouble on my floor. If they were supposed to call their superiors or whatever, it would have happened by now. There'd be more people here. We can't expect them to realize we're in this much trouble. We have to tell them what's happening. Our families must be looking for us. The police— or whoever's in charge obviously aren't doing jack shit to help us or to tell us anything. So we've got to do it ourselves." He pulled open the packaged gauze to help her cover the wounds and glanced toward the back of the lab to be certain Cody was not nearby. "In the meantime— you want to keep this guy with you, I can understand that. You're right, he's not dangerous until he is. But if we're still here by nightfall, we keep a watch while we sleep. In pairs. Someone snaps, I want to know before I'm slaughtered in my sleep."

Debbie held the gauze in place while Neil fumbled with the tape. "We could knock him out if something happens," she said.

"Like he did that guard?"

"No," she hissed. "No. There's a cabinet at the other end of the lab. I don't have the key and it's alarmed. Different departments, different keys, that's how it works. But it's got sedatives in it. We can break it open. The alarm will draw people. Maybe some sane people, maybe some— infected people, but we'd have another option, at least."

Neil hesitated. "No. We're getting out of here. If he gets worse, we put him somewhere safe. A room or— I dunno, maintenance closet or something. We mess with the sedatives, we might not be able to get back to the cafe. And even if we do, we'd have to risk another bite every time the drugs started wearing off. Best just to separate him. Less chance of hurting him too." He pulled off the blood-stained gloves and the mask, taking long gulps of cool air. "Until then— we just try not to irritate him. Okay? Nothing to tip him over that edge if we can help it."

Debbie pulled open a nearby cabinet and grabbed a pink hospital gown, sliding it over her wounded arm to cover her tattered shirt. "And if we do get out, if we break quarantine, what do we do with him then? We may all be infected but Cody is almost certainly so."

Neil shook his head. "I don't know. He can't stay here. None of us can stay here. We talk to the police or the army or whoever the hell is out there and we tell them what's actually happening in here. Why the fuck did they cut off the phone lines in the first place?"

"They didn't. The phones are working just fine. I've been trying to reach people since they locked us in here." Debbie pulled her phone from her pants pocket to show him the full signal. "At first, I got a couple friends on the line. A few called me after seeing us on the news. But when I tried again after the situation in the conference rooms got out of hand— nothing. I get answering machines or a busy signal. The police department had a weird hold line that I've never heard before. I waited over an hour last night on it and finally gave up. I've tried everywhere I could think of. Tried on my cell, too. Nothing. The phones are working just fine, but nobody's answering. Not HR which is outside quarantine, not the fire department, not the damn local pizza place. No one."

"What the hell is going on out there?"

"I don't know," said Debbie, "but it's got to be better than in here. Let's clean up your hand."

13

Cody still hadn't returned. Debbie opened drawers and cabinets, selecting some boxes and rejecting others, making a large pile on the counter beside them.

"We need to get moving," she said. "If they send in more help, it's better if we're all in one place. Besides, we don't know how long the way back to the cafeteria is going to stay clear. Find Cody, I'll grab anything else out here that I think we can use."

Neil eyed the growing pile. "Yeah. Not too much, right? We're getting out of here, no need to get weighed down with stuff we don't need. We'll move faster and more quietly without extra."

"Just grabbing supplies for the wounds you said your friend had. Anything else, and we'll have to make some decisions. Find Cody."

Neil headed farther into the lab. He passed the phlebotomy chairs and turned the corner to find several large refrigerators and low workstations. No Cody.

"Cody?" he whispered. No response. No noise at all. A solid wooden door was wedged a few inches open in the corner. A large ring of keys still dangled from it.

Should take the keys, Neil thought, could be a problem later, if he does freak out. They jingled when he reached for them. He felt an immediate sense of shame and let go. All he had was a stranger's word about any of this. And she wasn't even certain about what she'd told him. He had no other reason to think Cody was any closer to becoming violent than Neil was. Nor could he be sure this was even something infectious and not some kind of mass hysteria or toxin— Well, he admitted to himself, someone certainly agrees with Debbie that it's infectious, or you wouldn't be locked in this hospital right now. He pushed the door farther open instead. Cody stood in the large closet, staring at an empty space in the shelving. A large vinyl bag was slung over his chest, and another dangled from his hand.

"Cody?" asked Neil. He glanced at the shelves where the man was looking. He could see nothing special about it. He removed the bag slowly from Cody's arm. It was heavy and full. "You okay, man?"

Cody slowly turned his face to him. "Yeah, I— I came in here for something. What did I co' here for?" He looked around, lost.

"Whatever it was, I'm sure we can get it in the cafe, right? Debbie's patched up, we get there, fix up a few other people and then we get out, right?"

"Sure. Sure." Cody's voice trailed off. He was still looking around them. "Think iss toilet paper. Never got enough toilet paper in the cafe. Always running out."

"Only the five of us, man. I'm sure whatever they have down there will be enough until we leave. Not staying long, remember?"

Cody clicked his tongue. "No, not toilet paper. Floor cleaner. Lot of blood today in the hallway. Lot of blood. Mop's not going to get all that. Got to use the machine. Buff it out."

The statement sent a chill through Neil. He's lost it, no matter what Debbie says. Does he even know where he is? What's happened? Is this shock or the disease? "Don't think you'll have to worry about cleaning the floor for a while, buddy," he said gently.

"Night shift hates when iss not done. Can't leave it for 'em."

"The night shift's not coming, Cody. The hospital's all shut down. Nobody in or out, remember? You went to the ER with Debbie earlier, right?"

Cody finally turned his face toward him. "Yeah," he said slowly. "Thass right. With Mark. Went— bad."

"I know. I know it did. Keeps going bad. For me too, on the other side of the hospital. That's why we have to go. We'll worry about the floors another day, right? When all this is over, I'll come to help you clean up, I promise. But right now, we have to get to the cafeteria."

"The cafe, yeah. Just down the hall. Where's Debbie?" He seemed to get some kind of clarity and grabbed the keys from the door, leading Neil back toward the entrance of the lab. He tripped, caught himself against the counter.

"Here," said Neil, "Let me take the other bag."

"I'm fine," Cody snapped.

"I know," Neil lied. "But you know Debbie better. She's going to have another bag. She shouldn't carry it, her arm's no good. I don't think she'll let me take it, but you..."

Cody hesitated, then pulled the second bag off. "Yeah, okay, probably right."

It was as heavy as Neil had expected. He hoped Debbie's bag was lighter. It'd be a disaster if Cody tripped and sent the supplies scattering. The noise it would cause could make the crazy people come running. And then trying to regather what they needed... Cody's sudden irritation made Neil uneasy. Keep him calm, he reminded himself.

"What did you find for a weapon?" Neil asked as they rounded the corner.

"Shit," breathed Cody. "Knew I forgot something."

"We'll just run," said Debbie, overhearing them. The weight of the bags made Neil a little doubtful. He wasn't exactly in the best shape of his life. It's only a few hundred yards, he told himself.

"I guess. Didn't see anyone except for— except for the body just outside. But that was almost an hour ago. Anyone could have wandered back that way by now."

"These bags are heavy enough that one swing would probably throw anyone who ran at us off balance. Besides— the best thing for us all—" she tilted her head toward Cody, "is to stay as calm as possible. Getting into a fight seems like a bad idea."

Neil glanced at Cody. "You're right. We'll just have to hope we get lucky." He squeezed Cody's shoulder. "You ready, man? My friends have the key to the cafeteria, they're watching for me. Should be fast, but I promised not to lead any of the crazies back. If we get followed, you get into the cafeteria, and I'll draw them away until I'm able to lose them."

"This is insane," muttered Debbie, but she opened the door to the lab waiting room and peered out. The clock clicked sterile little seconds off and the overhead lights hummed. The body Neil had left by the door was as stiff and still as the coffee table beside it. She stepped carefully past it and hesitated at the outer door.

Not a bodyguard, Neil thought to himself as she stared at the door. Don't say it. Don't say it, stupid. Don't—

"I'll go firsht," offered Cody from just behind Neil. He pushed past and Debbie stepped out of the way, offering no argument.

"You sure?" asked Neil, despite his own reluctance.

"Yeah. You got the heaviest load. And Debbie's hurt. I'll go firsht. Besides, know all the... all the... hiding spots on the way." He frowned down at his feet swaying unsteadily, catching himself on the wall before he could trip over the corpse's hand. His sway reminded Neil of Dante whenever they got a little too tipsy, and he had a desperate wish to see Dante right then, sick or not.

Hope you're okay. Hope you're hiding somewhere until all this blows over. Or you got released. Maybe you tried to call me after my phone was dead. Hope so.

"Okay, let's get moving then," whispered Debbie. "The longer we stand here, the more likely that someone's in the way."

Neil had a flash of intense dislike for the terse doctor. She's just scared, he told himself, trying to forgive her lack of concern for Cody. Cody seemed undisturbed by the immediate acceptance of his offer and opened the door slowly, then closed it again, wincing as the latch clicked.

"There'ss a person out there," he whispered.

"Sick or healthy?" asked Debbie.

"Dunno."

Neil pushed past her to join Cody. "Can we push them in here?" he asked. "Can you lock the door? That's what we did at the gift shop."

Cody shook his head. "Won' lock him in, only us out."

"Shit."

"Maybe he's okay," said Debbie.

"Maybe. Better have a plan though, if not."

Debbie awkwardly fumbled in her pocket, trying to wrestle something out with her good hand. She managed to pull out a card. "If I grab the sedatives, I can set off an alarm—"

"Thought we agreed not to risk it," hissed Neil.

"Don't care about the sedatives. The alarm will draw anyone in the area. Healthy people will hopefully steer clear when they see a mob of sick people—"

"And what? We just leave the sick people to tear each other apart?"

"Better than tearing us apart. And if we do manage to grab the sedatives—"

"There'ss no other way outta here," interrupted Cody. "Not with the quarantine. Fire exit's bolted shut, 'member? We tried it."

"Crash cart then. We'll roll it down the hall, set off the alarm and use the distraction to get away."

"Why would anyone fall for that? They've got eyes," protested Neil. "There's one guy out there. We run past him, and that's it, we're safe. You set off an alarm, there'll be lots more. From all over the place. And I doubt anyone's going to fall for chasing a cart down the hallway."

"Look, if he's sick, the guy's going to chase us back to the cafeteria. He's not going to stop. We have to do something to lose him," said Debbie.

"So we trick him into another place. Cody, you said this room can't be locked to keep him in, but there's got to be another room that can be, right?"

Cody thought for what felt to Neil like a very long time. "Bathrooms near the lobby," he said at last. "Those lock both ways."

"He'd have water. In case it takes longer than we think," said Debbie. "Better than the gift shop, anyway."

"It's not going to— forget it. We'll argue about it later. We have a plan, Cody, you have the key?" asked Neil.

Cody sorted through his keys and held up a little gold one.

"Good, keep a tight hold of it. Everyone ready?" He glanced at Debbie, who nodded. How did I start making the decisions? he wondered. Worry about it later. "Open the door, Cody." He shifted the heavy vinyl bags, trying to grip them more securely without aggravating the searing ache in his injured hand. Cody eased the door open again and slid out. Debbie followed, leaving Neil to take the rear.

They kept close to the wall as if it provided some shelter or camouflage, but the man standing outside of the lab noticed them immediately from across the hall. He took a slow step toward them, staring at Cody. His foot squelched as it sank into the old blood where the corpse had been lying before Neil had moved it. The man was disheveled. His clothes had been tugged out of shape and hung askew on him and his hair was a wild range of dark spikes, but there were no visible wounds.

"You okay, man?" whispered Neil as the other two scrambled back at the movement. The man's face swiveled toward him. The man didn't answer, just stood there. His eyes never seemed to fully focus on any of them, shifting constantly, though he was obviously looking in their general direction.

"He ssick?" asked Cody.

"Or in shock." Debbie hesitated, then turned slightly back toward the man. "He might need—"

"No," said Neil. "You go. You and Cody. Keep everyone— calm. Not going to be helping anyone if he attacks you."

She nodded. "You coming?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I just want to make su—" he stopped as a low, rippling growl erupted from the man across the hall.

"Go!" cried Debbie, "go, go!" She shoved Cody's shoulder and sprinted down the hall. Cody ran after her. Shit, don't forget the bathroom, flashed through Neil's head. The man hunched, half crouched to spring forward and Neil's feet felt stuck. As if he'd been paralyzed by an electric shock. The growl rolled on and the man lunged, his arms jabbing forward. Neil heard a frantic yelp. It wouldn't occur to him until later that it had come from his own mouth. The man dashed toward him, his fingers brushing Neil's arm before the paralysis shattered and Neil twisted, trying to evade the man's grasp. One of the bags slung around with the motion and knocked the man slightly sideways and he went skidding through the drying puddle of blood beside the door.

Neil didn't waste the opportunity, launching himself after Debbie and Cody. Erratic footsteps rang in the hallway behind him, quickly lost in the loud rasp of his own breath. The orange line on the corridor floor seemed to stretch impossibly long. He hoped Debbie and Cody were around the corner ahead, and that they'd remembered the bathroom door. Run past, he told himself, run past and lose this guy in the stairwell or— shit, what am I going to do? The bag on his right arm yanked suddenly backward and he half-spun with the momentum. The man clung on and Neil found himself inches from the man's face. His mouth gaped open and his teeth glimmered under the harsh hospital light. His teeth are in better shape than mine, flickered through Neil's head, even as he shoved his injured hand up, catching the man's chin and pressing backward to keep him back. A sharp sizzle of pain in his hand made him swear. Hope that wasn't another stitch. It stopped the man from biting down. At least for a second. He let go of Neil's bag and grabbed flesh instead. His fingers pressed into Neil's arm, trying to claw. The man's fingernails were short and didn't do much. Neil grappled with him, trying to push him away or throw him off balance, but the bags were too awkward and Neil ended up losing his, instead. They toppled.

The man hovered over him, deep red with rage and screaming. Just a loud, unarticulated roar. He shook with the effort of it. Neil's sleeve tore as the man yanked on it, the small ripping noise beneath the man's cry was almost a relief, almost normal. Neil struggled to keep the man's face as far from his as possible. The man's head twisted and ducked, and Neil's hand slipped. Moist heat enveloped his wrist an instant before the man clamped down. The side of his hand went cold and numb for a flash and then exploded in a searing crunch. The gauze did little to stop the man's teeth and his molars ground into it, pulling the fragile skin around Neil's older wound. Neil gasped and instinctively released the man to grab at his own hand. The man slumped further forward, his weight settling fully over Neil's chest and legs. His hand was free, only for the man to surge forward and bite down on Neil's neck. Neil shrieked. His world narrowed to the electric jolt of pain traveling through his throat and the feeling that he couldn't get enough breath. He panicked, kicking out but not connecting with anything. The man growled around his mouthful, throaty and wet. A thick thump jarred Neil and the man rolled off. Someone hauled Neil up, dragging him to his feet and clapped a hand over the bleeding bite wound in his neck.

"Hit him again, he's still conscious," said a voice.

"You'll kill him! He's just sick."

"Better than him killing us." A meaty thunk and the growling stopped.

"Is he dead?"

Neil tried to orient himself in the sudden quiet. He was draped over Cody. Maisy stood beside them, watching Debbie check the man's pulse. Shay stood over him, an iron skillet sagging in her grip. She was still bloody. Course she is, Neil thought, I was supposed to bring help.

"Just unconscious. Move quick, he's not going to stay that way," barked Debbie. She grabbed his arms and started tugging.

"I can walk," rasped Neil, trying to steady himself.

"Sure? Your neck—"

"Got it." He didn't, not really. The wet heat under his fingers made him dizzy and unsteady, but he wasn't going to say it. Cody released him and moved to help Debbie. They dragged the man further down the hall. His eyes were already opening. Maisy grabbed the bags Neil had dropped and dashed after them.

"Let's not hang around," said Shay. "Never know when there's more of them. And— you don't look so hot. But you're still able to talk. Maybe that's good. I hope that's good."

"Shit that hurt," was all Neil said, forcing himself to start moving.

"You're telling me," said Shay tugging his arm to make him go faster. "Told you not to go to the lab."

"Yeah. Needed stuff. And them," he said as Debbie and Cody slid the man into the open bathroom and jumped away. Cody slammed the door before the man could get up and jabbed the key into the lock. A series of bangs erupted from behind it only a second after.

"We need to get back to the cafeteria," said Maisy. "Before the sound brings more of them."

Neil stumbled and caught Debbie's eye. "It's not—" he started.

"Just get to the cafeteria, before you bleed out and we need to make another trip to the ER," she snapped.

"It isn't—" he tried to call after her, but she and Maisy were already running for the lobby. He glanced behind him, looking to see if he'd tripped over something in particular, but Shay grabbed his wrist again and he followed Shay and Cody down the remaining hallway. The lobby was still silent and empty and Maisy swung the door to the cafeteria open, throwing bags inside. By the time he reached it, Debbie was scattering supplies over the Formica tables in the half-dark. Cody reached to flip on the lights.

"Don't!" whispered Shay. "Don't do anything to attract them. You need light, the kitchen and the bathrooms are blocked off, we use them."

"Ssorry," he muttered. Maisy locked the door behind them.

"Yeah," said Debbie. "Yeah, the kitchen. Get him into the kitchen so I can see."

"Who?" asked Neil. Blood from his neck trickled over his fingers. His other hand throbbed with a nauseating heat.

"You. Got to get that cleaned and closed."

"I went to get help for Shay," he protested. "She's been bleeding longer. And if this thing spreads from an infected bite—"

"Then she's already screwed, but you might not be. Besides, I don't know how bad that wound is. You don't get it closed and you might not be worrying about infection for anyone. And the faster I treat you, the faster I can treat Shay. And anyone else."

Cody grasped Neil in a half-hug, bodily dragging him toward the kitchen. He stumbled more than once and they both teetered before recovering. "Let her do it, man. You're not looking good."

The kitchen was glaringly bright after the dark cafe. Well-used and spotless, except for the blackened spots of carbon on ancient industrial pots stacked on a corner of the line.

"That dish area," said Debbie. "Cleaned last night?"

"Of course," Shay said. "And sanitized. Every day."

"Put him on it."

Cody tried to lift him. "No," protested Neil, "Do it myself. Don't need to slice something else open on the edges." Cody let him go and Neil stepped cautiously onto an overturned milk crate and then climbed awkwardly onto the smooth drainboard. "This violates like twelve health code regulations, you know."

"I don't think we need to worry about that just now," said Debbie.

"You don't."

"We'll clean it later," said Shay. "I'll even let you apologize to the dishwasher once this is over if you really want to."

"What if— we don't know how this spreads. What if everyone you serve—"

"Dishwasher assembly is overdue for replacement anyway," said Shay. "Relax and let Dr. Barnes fix you. Worry about this later."

Debbie eased a glove over her bandaged wrist. "Lie down," she ordered.

"But—"

"Please," said Shay, "I'm really hurting here. The faster you're bandaged, the faster I can get some relief, too."

That convinced him. He arranged himself on the drainboard, stretching as flat as he could on the chilly steel. His legs hung over the edge.

14

"Someone keep watch at that door," said Debbie. "We need to know if there are people out there. Well or sick. Or any of the police that were supposed to be sweeping the place."

Cody headed for the front, banging his shoulder against a heat lamp on his way and knocking over a stack of dish covers with a loud clatter. Maisy hurried to help him clean them up.

"How long did you say this stage lasts?" asked Neil, keeping his voice low.

Debbie shook her head and pulled his hand away from his neck, swiping at the bite with some gauze. "I don't know. Most patients were well past this point. Mark took at least a day, but he might have been sick before that. As I said, the symptoms seem mild at first. He might not have even known or just thought it was a cold. For Cody's sake, I hope he was already sick. For everyone else— well, the quarantine's not going to do much if he was. Our security guards interact with a lot of people in short amounts of time. Not just patients, but family members and ambulance staff and police officers— lots of people come through our ER every day. All the people he interacted with could have been carrying it outside the whole time." She shook her head. "Don't even know if they've found patient zero yet. This whole thing might be like cleaning the sink while your house is on fire." She turned to grab something from the bag beside her.

"Cody's caught it?" asked Shay.

"I'm not even sure what 'it' is yet, so I can't say." She turned back to Neil. "The bite on your neck is shallow. That's a good thing. I think it might have been worse if Shay had been a few seconds later. Are you having trouble breathing?" She pressed her gloved fingers to his throat, probing.

"No, not now."

"If he's got whatever this is," said Shay, "don't you think we ought to take precautions? Maisy and I weren't expecting Dan to snap the way he did. If it'd been an hour earlier, he would have caught one of us asleep. We wouldn't be standing here now."

Debbie leaned over him, placing a series of small adhesive strips in a vague crescent over his neck. "We'll keep an eye on him," she told Shay. "What happened to this Dan guy?"

"Locked in the gift shop. For now. Maybe we should put Cody in there too. Or in the bathroom—"

"So that he can be attacked?"

"No, just— he's not safe."

"We don't know that. He's having— coordination issues, I agree. But he's not violent—"

"What about Mark?" asked Neil, trying not to flinch as Debbie pulled his skin closed. His throat was developing a deep ache, as if he'd been throttled instead of bitten.

"That was self-defense."

"Maybe that's what the other sick people think, too. Maybe it's like rabies or something," said Shay. "You said you didn't know what it was, you don't know how it works."

"No," snapped Debbie whirling around to face Shay, "and neither do you. Even if that's the way it works, that doesn't make putting Cody— or anyone else— in there with one of them any better. They'll kill each other."

"We'll put him somewhere else then. A patient room or maybe the dry goods pantry or—"

"Oh yeah? Are you going to go feed them every day? We already have two people in separate rooms. Probably more—"

"Definitely more," interrupted Neil. "There are people trapped upstairs in locked rooms. I was. Nobody came to give us food or check wounds or anything else."

"They were supposed to," said Debbie. "A group went out last night before everything went haywire. They were supposed to make night rounds and then bring food to people this morning. They had a police escort."

"Yeah, well, they didn't make it. At least not to my floor. Might be that I saw the very last of them when he stumbled into my room and I got free."

"All the more reason not to lock people into separate rooms." Debbie helped him sit up, apparently done with his neck. She started unwrapping the bandage on his wounded hand. He didn't expect he'd be as lucky there.

"We can't just leave him loose!" cried Shay.

"You're afraid he's dangerous, but you have to think. We already have people in desperate need of care right now. It's going to be hard enough to get to them without adding Cody to the mix. At the moment, he's more help than harm. If it changes, we can talk about it again. Same with any of us. For all I know, we've all got whatever this is. So until I figure it out, we need to assume that's the case. After I've treated all of our wounds, we'll come up with a plan to get food and water to the people who are stuck in rooms and clear the corridors if we can. Once we're able to clear the ER again, I can get the sedatives we need without setting off alarms and we can deal with medical needs as wel—"

"No. No freaking way. That's not what we agreed at all. Cody's going to help us get out of here—" said Neil.

"We can't just leave people here to starve or die."

"You said the patients that could be moved already were. Anyone who's still here—"

"Is still here because of a medical need. We aren't just going to let them suffer."

His palm looked like a hunk of raw steak a dog had got a hold of. Debbie laid a blue crinkling paper over his lap and placed his hand gently on top of it, turning to find more supplies in the bag. He watched the weak pulsing trickle of blood well up in the deep divots.

"You want these people to be cared for, we're not the people to do it," he said. "You're the only doctor here. Not to mention that an entire police squad has apparently disappeared or become sick themselves. We can't do this. We need help. Getting out isn't leaving them to starve or die, it's doing what's right. The people out there can't possibly understand how bad it is in here. They might not know it's a problem at all. They may have no idea people are dying in here. And like you said, there were lots of cases. What are the chances that they're all contained in this hospital? That some of those patients didn't infect their families or the people that were evacuated before the official quarantine weren't carrying it with them? The people we love are out there. What if they're sick, too? What if they come in contact with people who are? They aren't going to know what to do. Hell, I don't know what to do and I've got a few hours head start on them. You— we might be the only people who have some idea of what is really happening. You said that news anchor just chalked up the violence to holiday rage. And others will be written off as political violence or anger from some other cause. They won't know until it's too late that people don't just— calm down afterward. If we just wait out the quarantine and don't try to contact anyone—"

"I have tried to contact people. I told you. Can't reach anyone."

"All the more reason to make it out of here. They must have— I don't know, blocked the number or shut it off or something. Trying to keep it quiet so the public doesn't panic but it should," interrupted Shay. "We have to tell someone. The people in the parking lot if we have to. We can't stay here. We'll die. And then all the people locked in their rooms will die. They'll starve or whatever this disease is will kill them. And if we are infected you think we're going to keep making rounds to feed them or do whatever the hell you intend to do? We'll be just like Dan. We need to separate Cody so he doesn't slaughter us in our sleep and then go get help. Neil's right."

Neil hissed at a sudden jab in his hand.

"Sorry," muttered Debbie swiping at it with something that began numbing his skin.

"Don't," he said. "I can take the pain."

"This is not a time for being macho."

"Nope. It's time to be practical. If I can't feel my hand, then I can't use it. If one of those people gets in here or one of us— loses it, I don't want to be useless."

"Your hand's pretty damaged. Don't know how much use you'll get out of it before it heals."

"Just let me decide."

She sighed, then shrugged. "Suit yourself. It's not going to be fun."

He sucked in his breath and held it while she worked, trying not to flinch. Shay looked on, concerned. "Don't mean you should skip the painkillers," he said to her quietly. "You have lots more bites than me. The rest of us can handle the heavy lifting—"

"No offense, and I appreciate what you did, going to the lab for us," said Shay, "but I still don't know you. And you don't know me. We know we've got at least one sick person with us, maybe more. I'll take care of myself and you should take care of you. I'll help you when I can, but don't rely on me to save you. I'd expect the same of you. And anyone else here."

Neil tried not to blame her for the sudden coldness. She was right. Won't be around long enough to worry about it, he thought. Don't need everyone to like you all the time, Neil. He just nodded.

15

Neil felt surprisingly better after a hastily prepped dish of cafeteria eggs and a cup of coffee that had no right to taste as burnt as it did. He'd done it mostly to distract himself while they waited for Debbie to finish treating Shay's wounds. Something to keep him from snapping at them to go faster, to start checking doors. But it turned out he wasn't the only one who hadn't eaten. He hoped Shay would forgive him for invading her kitchen. I already bled on her dish station, guess scrambling some eggs won't make it that much worse. He cleaned obsessively afterward while the others ate, anxious to be doing, not just waiting. They're safe. Relax. They're home. Or shopping. Mom wouldn't let anything happen to her. But when he'd tried calling them again from the kitchen phone, there'd still been no answer. Joan and Harry hadn't answered their cell phones either. He frowned into the now-empty coffee pot, trying to scrub baking soda into the ancient stains on its sides without hurting his injured hand. Stop taking what this Debbie woman says as gospel. All you know for sure is that there's a quarantine. Police coming through the hospital and the boards over the doors is enough to tell you that. There's no way she knows it got out. Besides, even if it did, the government's looking for sick people now, right? If they made a quarantine, they know it's a problem. They're okay. No contact with anyone who had this. Not even you, you got bit and then brought here. No chance to see Randi or Joan between. And they were still a block away from... He could see the homeless man in his mind's eye, that glove still dangling from his fingers as he stared into space. He was too close to Randi. Breathed on her. Is that how it spreads? Or when I touched him? Or through his saliva when he bit? Is Randi already sick? Am I? Maybe she didn't get infected yet, but if I touch her, if I hug her or kiss her, if I'm infected then— He cut the thought down. He wasn't sick. He wasn't clumsy or slurring. He wasn't angry, not even at the man in the hallway who'd attacked them. But if he stayed in the hospital with people who were, he could get infected with it. Especially around Cody. He'd have to avoid Cody. At least until they knew how it spread. Just get out of here. He glanced at the stack of clean plates at the end of the line. There are an awful lot of hungry people locked in rooms upstairs. Sick and injured, too. Not just with whatever this is. And kids. New babies— no, Shay said they evacuated those types of people. Just the ones showing symptoms and the people from the parade left. And a few workers. Still, they're hungry. Debbie has a point. Shitty, stupid plan, but a good point. We've got to get moving so those people can get relief. He put down the coffee pot and walked toward the long prep table where the others were eating. He stopped well short of it, uneasy about getting closer to Cody.

"We should start looking for an open door. The longer we wait, the worse things get in here. Not just for the people who are loose, but the ones trapped in their rooms, too."

Debbie stabbed half-heartedly at a leftover egg curd. "Have you thought about what happens after you find a door or a window or some bay they've left open? There are police stationed in the lot. They aren't just going to let you wander out."

"That's fine, like I said, if they want to put me in some cell somewhere until this is over, I'll cooperate. But they can't leave us in here to kill each other."

"We're safe here. And they'll send in more people to help us. They've got to," said Maisy.

Neil shook his head. Shay and Cody both appeared dazed, disconnected. "You want to wait this out, you're welcome to. Heck, you don't even have to come with me, though I'd get us help a lot faster with someone who knew where everything was. Probably with fewer bites, too. But every hour it takes me to find someone or for the police to send more help, patients are suffering. Maybe dying. Colleagues too, whichever ones had the shit luck to be on shift when this all happened. Don't you wonder where the rest are? You don't think they're letting other doctors and nurses who could have been exposed just wander around in public, do you? No, they're likely home, waiting out this quarantine under house arrest, but comfortable. Wouldn't it be nice for that to be you?"

"No," snapped Debbie. "I've got a husband living in that house. And you have a daughter living in yours. Cody's got three kids and Shay and Maisy have loved ones in their homes too. If we were there, we could be infecting them. The people we care about most."

"Or attacking them," added Shay, smoothing the edge of one of her bandages. She'd gotten rid of the bloody apron and tattered gloves but it didn't diminish the appearance of her wounds. The bright, clean squares of gauze almost glowed in the half-light of the prep area.

"You think I haven't thought of that?" asked Neil. "I'm not as selfish as you think. I don't want to get anyone else sick. I just want to warn my mom, my kid, the police or the CDC or whoever the hell is supposed to be in charge. There's no way they caught all the cases. This is spreading out there. And if people don't know what eventually happens— you think we were shocked by it— if there'd been more of them in that crowd at the parade it would have been so much worse. If someone's sick at a crowded airport or in a school or at a church service— what do you think is going to happen? There are no obvious signs that someone's going to snap. They'll be completely off-guard. And if it works as you say, Debbie, if anxiety or anger or panic sets it off in the end, then one attack might become five or ten or more, like dominoes. Just takes a few infected people. An infected family, say."

"Le'ss do it from 'ere," mumbled Cody. "Don' hafta go ousside." He fumbled in his pocket and after several seconds pulled out a scratched cell phone.

"We haven't been able to reach anyone," protested Neil. "Maybe we've been cut off."

Cody shook his head and punched slowly at the phone's screen with his thumb. "Nah. Can't cut us off. Maybe the wall phones. Not ours. Don' even know who'sh in 'ere. Not gonna call anyway. Wanna tell 'em whass happening, we pos' it. Take a video, let em see. World'll do the res'."

Neil didn't like the idea. He wanted to make sure Randi was safe. Wanted to see it with his own eyes. Or at least hear it from her own voice over the phone. "No, we need to get help. They aren't going to send people in here just because we post some— snuff film to the internet."

"Why not? It's a hell of a lot more effective to have a hundred people shouting at the police to help us than five people begging," said Shay. "You've seen the videos of the people outside. If more people were standing there, the soldiers might not be as willing to keep them out. Or at least call their supervisors. Make some kind of statement to the public. Then the people out there would know what was happening. And what to watch for."

"Thought you were with me on the plan to get out of here," said Neil.

"I am. We can do both. We're going to have to find a door we can get out of, right? It's not just going to miraculously appear in here. Trust me, I checked them all before you got back. Even the linen chute was boarded over sometime last night. So, when we go out there, we film it, just like Cody said. Put it up for as long as we have some kind of signal. I'm not as sure as you are that they can't shut it off," she turned to Cody, "but we've got signal now. When we finally find a way out of here or a way to break through some of that paneling, we're going to be walking out into a parking lot filled with guns. If we just went out there, the five of us, they'll use those guns. If we get other people's attention first, there's no way they're going to shoot us in front of a hundred people. Well— no way they'll shoot us if we aren't trying to rush the barriers, anyhow. The more leverage we've got, the more likely they are to listen to us. And even if they don't, at least people will know what's coming. They'll be better prepared than we are. That's what you want, isn't it? If we don't make it out, at least we'll have left some idea for the people we care about."

"This is insane," hissed Maisy. "Guns and crazy people and who knows what else— we can't go wandering around the hospital looking for an exit. What are you thinking? Three days, that's what the policemen said. We just have to wait for three—"

"Bullshit. They said three days because they have no idea what this is," said Debbie. "Could be three days, but it won't be. I've already seen patients in the ER in the end stages for longer than three days. The incubation could be forty-eight hours or it could be twenty-one days or it could be like tuberculosis and we could be trapped in here for three months. We don't know what it is, and they don't seem too worried about checking on how we're doing. They haven't even sent anyone in to study it. No, Maisy, I'm with you on waiting for more security but something's definitely gone wrong on the science end of this. It's not going to be three days. Either they're fighting over some jurisdictional nonsense or the government's panicked or— I don't know. But this isn't how a quarantine's supposed to work. There should be orders for a battery of tests and supplementary medical staff and contingency plans for feeding and treating people— this is— none of this is right. We can't just sit here while people locked in rooms upstairs suffer—"

"So we let them out. They can come here. We've got food. We've got water. The government will show up eventually and they can sort out what happens next. We just have to wait here until someone shows up or calls or— I don't know. Someone will come. We're safe in here," said Maisy.

"There are people infected with whatever this is mixed in with the other patients. And more still loose in the hallways. Nurses like the ones who came into Neil's room. Security guards who were supposed to be guarding us. We have to get through them to let the other patients out."

"N-not necessarily," mumbled Neil.

Debbie turned to him.

"A nurse told me if there were a fire or something, some emergency system would override the locks on the doors. We could trigger it. But it would more likely just leave the people who don't have— whatever this is, vulnerable. Don't think I could have fought off one of those attacks with a broken leg or after chemo or when I was recovering from heart surgery or something. I know you evacuated the people you could, but the ones who are left can't all have minor injuries like I did. The best thing for everyone is if we make it to the parking lot, if we can at least see the police or the national guard or whoever is out there face to face. Let them know what's happening. And find out why they aren't doing this properly."

They were all silent for several minutes. Debbie pushed away her plate. "Yeah. Okay. You're right. I'll go with you, at least to the parking lot. Hopefully, we run into help before then."

"Promissed to help you, if you got us here," said Cody.

"I'm not going to hold you to that, man. I would have brought you here anyway, if I could," said Neil.

"I believe you. But I'm gonna show 'em. Show my girlss an' anyone else. Can do that and help at the same time." Cody waved his phone.

"We're safe in here. We've got a phone to the outside. We've got food and water and walls. There's no reason to risk running into one of those— crazies. The police will be back. They'll find us faster if we stick together in one spot. You really want to make them chase you all over the hospital? Just sit tight, and help will come. Tell them, Shay," said Maisy.

"I'm going with them, Maisy. None of this is right. Either the people outside don't know or they don't care what's happening in here. It's been almost a whole day since the last help came or contacted us in any way and we've all watched people die since then. Every one of us. Maybe you're right, maybe there are more police coming, but I don't know if all of us are going to make it until they get here. We get another Dan in here— I'm not going to be able to fight them off. Are you? If we stick together, we'll be safer. These three are going, then I'm going. I hope you'll come with us, but if not, I'll send help, I promise."

16

Prolonged stress and Neil's injuries were taking a toll that adrenaline couldn't completely camouflage. But he wasn't the only one fighting off exhaustion. At least I've had sleep. The others have been up all night. Maybe longer. Shay leaned heavily against the door frame, one thickly bandaged hand pressed hard against the small of her back, staring out at the silent lobby. Neil knew that stance. The way someone who'd been on their feet for too long tried to take pressure off their aching feet and hips. Cody rubbed his forehead and sorted slowly through the ring of keys he'd pulled from his pocket. The slurring was no worse, but Neil noted he was taking longer to respond to any questions. He hoped it meant Cody was just tired and not getting sicker. Debbie had downed almost half the coffee in the pot and still stumbled, smashing her mug on her way to the sink. Neil had to get them moving or they'd be stuck here overnight. He wasn't willing to watch them take a nap while people were dying outside the cafeteria, but if he didn't force them to start, that would be what happened anyway.

He twisted the lock and pushed the door slightly open. Shay immediately straightened. "We aren't ready," she whispered.

"What are we waiting for?" asked Neil.

She glanced around. "I— don't remember. Oh. Cody is finding the key to the loading-bay door near radiology. I— think. Sorry, just so wiped."

"That's why we've got to get going. We wait too long and we're all going to be too tired to make good choices."

"Think we're already past that point," mumbled Shay.

Neil leaned toward her, lowering his voice still more. "If we put it off much longer, we'll have to sleep. I don't want to risk sleeping next to Cody, do you?"

She started to turn her head to look at Cody and caught herself. "No. But I also don't want to get halfway to radiology and have him snap. Maisy's too scared to let us back in if we need help. I've known her for a long time, but I've never seen her like this. We leave and she's going to hide in the kitchen until the police come. Or don't. It won't matter who bangs on this door, sick or well, she's not going to open it. I'm taking a key but if we're in a panic..."

Neil shook his head and opened the door farther. "Enough talking about this. The longer we put it off, the harder it's going to get. Besides, it'll be dark outside soon. Might be better to slip out unseen in the dark, but if there are sick people in the loading-bay or loose in the parking garage or wherever we manage to get out— I'd rather get caught by the police in broad day than try to avoid the crazies in the dark." He stepped out into the lobby, holding the door open for her. She followed him and Cody noticed, trailing slowly behind. Debbie wavered in the doorway.

"We've got no plan. No way to defend ourselves," she said, her voice a harsh whisper.

"You saw what's out there. You think it'd be better if we planned?" asked Neil. "You want to think about what we have to do if we're attacked or do you just want to do it when it happens? If I'm going to— If I have to— hurt somebody, I'd rather not dwell on it. Rather not dread it more than I have to."

She didn't offer any answer to that, so he turned to Cody. "Where are we going?"

"Loading-bay. Follow the green line. Something happens, thass where we meet. Loading-bay'sh prolly locked up too, but a maintenance tunnel starts there. Goes all over the hoshpital. Maybe a door in there they forgot." He shook his head slightly, pressed a hand to his jaw. "Shit," he muttered, "Wass wrong with me?"

She didn't tell him? Neil glanced at Debbie who still hovered in the doorway of the cafeteria. "Nothing man," he told Cody. "You're just tired. We all are. The adrenaline's starting to wear off and it's been a long time since we slept last."

"Feel so sslow. And the words are all wrong. I'm not thish way."

"No worries." Neil squeezed Cody's shoulder. "Exhaustion does some crazy stuff to our brains. You should see me after a Mother's Day double shift at the restaurant. Usually break a month's worth of dishes and fire three dishwashers. I'm no good without sleep." Cool it, Neil. Keep the lies simple or he'll get ticked off and we don't need that.

"We should get going before we have company," said Shay. She glanced back at Maisy who peered out from behind the glass and gave her an encouraging smile. Maisy just twisted the lock behind Debbie and stared after them. Cody arranged his phone in his shirt pocket, poking the fabric down until the lens was clear. Neil was still skeptical that it'd do any good, but he doubted it'd do any harm, either.

He could hear the man they'd locked in the bathroom still banging against the door as they passed. "It's been hours," Neil said, wondering how he hadn't worn himself out yet.

"Do they sleep?" muttered Shay.

"Eventually. The patients I saw responded to sedation, anyway. It doesn't make them any more reasonable or improve their ability to retrieve language, but it stops the physical damage they are trying to do— to others or themselves," said Debbie. "Mostly we didn't let them rage like this. Even when they were restrained, they still managed to injure themselves sometimes. Better to keep them sleeping until we can figure out what's causing these symptoms." She moved past the door, flinching as it banged again.

Cody led them past a few of the offices before Shay said, "I know there's a fire exit down here. We should check it."

Cody shook his head. "Alarmed. Even I can't shut it off."

"So? Not like we're going to get out unnoticed anyway, the police are going to see us. If the fire department shows up, all the better, right?"

"Not ousside people who worry me. If we try to open it, set off the alarm and iss boarded up or worse, then what? Whole place'll be in an uproar. Don' need more panic or those sick people riled up more'n they are. Loading-bay's bess bet." He tripped and flailed forward. Debbie caught his arm to steady him. He stopped, looked at his feet and then at the floor behind him as if expecting some errant lump or a broken tile. Finding nothing but smooth floor, he turned back to Debbie. "Think I'm having a stroke, doc."

Debbie didn't answer, just pulled him further down the hallway. It troubled Neil to see her ignoring him.

"He doesn't know?" Shay whispered to Neil. He shook his head.

"Guess not," he whispered back. "It's not right." He followed them a few more steps before calling to Debbie, "You have to tell him."

"Not here, I don't," she muttered.

"Wass wrong with me?"

"It's not a stroke," she said, still doggedly dragging him toward the loading-bay. "You aren't exhibiting any limb weakness or visible freezing of your face and you haven't said anything about numbness. There's been a gradual decline in your speech and coordination, but a stroke would be rapid—"

"Wass wrong?" he stopped, planting himself just in sight of the lab where Neil had met them. The dark puddle of dried blood in the center of the hallway was still a shock. Neil tried not to look at it.

"We can talk about it once—"

"You're sick, Cody," Neil interrupted. "You've got whatever this is. I'm sorry."

Debbie rounded on him. "Are you insane? I told you it was important that everyone stay calm—"

"You think letting him panic about a stroke is better?" He turned to Cody. "Look, man, we're going to find out what this is. We're going to find a way to fix it, ok? If we're under quarantine it means lots of people are working on it. They're going to narrow it down and figure out what type of treatment you need. We just have to hold on until then, right?"

Cody shook his head. "How am I— I'm careful. Wear my gloves and mask when I need it. Not shloppy. Sloppy."

"I know man, I know. I am too. Do everything by the book, follow all the rules. It just happens sometimes. I woke up a few days ago thinking I was going to spend a great day with my kid. We were going to the parade, I was going to be her hero. Then everything went sideways. I got bit by someone who was sick after I tried to help him. Don't even know if that's what spreads it, but here I am, inside a quarantine. Because I thought I was doing the right thing." Neil shook his head. "Hell, even if I knew I was sick, I couldn't be sure it was from that bite. I apparently have some weird low-grade strep that I can't even feel. What else have we all got lurking in us that we don't know about? It could have been weeks ago, Cody. Bad fish or someone coughing on the bus or some flea bite we didn't even feel. It's not your fault. Don't waste your energy feeling bad about it. We stick together, we let the people in charge know how the situation is changed and we stay calm until they figure this thing out."

"What if they don't? What if I hur' someone?"

"We won't let you. We'll put you somewhere safe, just like the rest."

Cody glanced back down the hallway, alarmed.

"Neil," Debbie whispered.

"Don' want to smash myself against a door for days," said Cody.

"If we have to do it, I'll get you some sedatives," answered Neil. "I promise. Debbie and I will go back to the lab or the emergency room or wherever. You'll be asleep until they find a way to cure it."

Cody stared at Debbie, obviously doubting that Neil would do as he said. It took her an uncomfortable minute to reassure him. "It'll be okay," she said at last. "Neil's right. We'll find out what this is and get rid of it. I'm hoping you won't get worse before we find help anyway. Your symptoms seemed to have leveled out. Maybe you've reached the crisis point and you'll start to recover. Maybe you'll be the first— we could make an antiserum and you'll save all the others. But we have to get help. I'm not trained for that. Got to get you to the right people. And we aren't going to do that in the hallway. Stay focused, stay calm. It'll be okay, Cody." She tugged on Cody's arm again and he reluctantly began moving again. Neil could see he wasn't convinced. He wasn't certain what he could add to reassure him though.

"Glad you did that," said Shay. "He needed to know. I'd want to know."

"Me too. It'd— change things."

She caught his elbow and he glanced back at her. "I'm serious. If I start showing signs, I want to know. I thought Cody knew all this time. If he didn't even realize he was slurring and slowing down— you tell me. Breaking quarantine when I'm healthy is one thing. Still stupid. And risky. But they need to know out there. If I were sick though— You tell me, because it's obvious Dr. Barnes isn't going to."

"I'll tell you," promised Neil, "but you have to swear the same. Got a kid out there. I don't want to bring this to her, no matter what. Everyone in here can tear each other apart, but I'm not bringing it to her."

"Agreed," said Shay. She lowered her voice still farther, her eyes on Debbie and Cody's backs. "Means we're going to have to figure out what happens with Cody before we leave the building, you know."

Neil bit his thumbnail, flicked it away. "I know," he said flatly. "Don't think he's going to make it that long. Debbie was lying about his symptoms. He's gotten worse just in the couple of hours since I met them. We need to be ready. Got to get those keys."

Shay just nodded and they slipped around the corner into another corridor behind Cody and Debbie.

17

Debbie stopped in the middle of the corridor and stared out a large glass door into a well-manicured courtyard. "Why didn't they board up this one?" she asked. Cody looked around, realizing she was no longer beside him.

"Maybe that's why," said Neil pointing at the ragged lumps scattered over the dead grass. It was dusk now, reducing what was obviously bodies almost to shadows. He could still make out the thin pile of bright plywood halfway down the path. Birds had landed on one of the shadowy bulges and sat there lazily picking at it. Neil felt an insane urge to shout and drive them off. They'll be gone soon enough. Off to roost somewhere. Until tomorrow, he told himself. It didn't make him more comfortable.

"Can we get out here?" asked Shay. She pressed a hand against the push bar. Neil pulled it gently back.

"Wait," he said, eyeing one of the shadows in the far corner of the courtyard. It was moving. Or maybe it was just the sunlight retreating farther from the courtyard or the wind fluttering some cloth. He squinted. "Something killed them. What if it's out there still?"

"Gonna run in'o em sometime," slurred Cody. He stood behind Debbie staring into the same corner that Neil had noticed. "Here or in the tunnel. 'S a gate to the lot." He pointed toward the far end of the yard. "Round that tree. But if iss blocked off—"

"We'll climb the wall," said Debbie.

"While we're being chased?" asked Neil. "You remember how fast the last guy was?"

"It's almost dark. If we're quiet, they might not notice us. Better than spending hours testing doors in the tunnel. There's nothing out there that I can see—"

"That you can see," emphasized Shay.

"— and for all we know, they aren't sick, just injured. Might need our help."

"So which is it?" asked Neil. "We sneak out there and climb the wall and hope that anything moving out there is a sick person who doesn't notice us or should we go up and offer to help each of those lumps praying they're just lying there with their throat half ripped out?"

"I don't know!" cried Debbie.

Cody glanced down the hall, quickly shushing her.

"Why am I supposed to know everything?" Debbie whispered. "I'm just as lost as you three."

Neil flushed. "Sorry," he muttered. "You're right. But we still have to decide what we're going to do. There could be a way out right there. We've got to know. And we've got to be ready for whatever else is out there."

They stood and stared out at the courtyard without speaking. An announcement about wearing a face mask in the hospital's waiting room erupted above them and then dissolved into piano music again.

"I'll go," said Cody. "Already ssick. Know where the door iss."

"No," said Neil. "If someone's out there, you'll get tackled before you can react." He tore his gaze from the bump in the courtyard to look at Cody. "Sorry man, it's slowing you down, making you clumsy."

"You're hurt. Shay's hurt. You won't be winning any fights either." Neil didn't have a good answer for that. He might be able to outrun one of the sick people, but fight? Not with his hand as mangled as it was. And the courtyard was small. All the other doors might be locked. Nowhere to run.

"So I'll go," said Debbie.

Shay shook her head. "No. Splitting up is stupid. We need to go together. We're safer that way and we're less likely to get shoved back in here when we find the quarantine guards if there's more than one of us. That's why Cody wanted to film this, isn't it?"

Cody frowned down at the phone in his shirt pocket. "Sure. Can't all go out there though. Don't know if there'sh really a way out. Doorsh might lock behind ush. Someone's got to stay. In case."

"Then we're in the same position. Either someone's alone out there or someone's alone in here. It's still stupid and dangerous," said Shay. "Besides, you have all the keys."

Cody glanced down at the key ring hanging at his waist. "You think I'm too ssslow to fight, butchu wan' me to find the right key and unlock the door while someone's biting ush?"

"Prop it open then. We're not splitting up. Told you I didn't even want to leave Maisy and the cafeteria is way safer than what we're about to do. We're not separating. No matter what."

"Okay, okay," said Neil. "We go together, we prop the door. If something happens, we stick together, right? No cowards. You run back here, you hold the door open, got it?"

"I'd guess most of us wouldn't have made it this long if any of us were cowards," said Debbie. Neil felt an immediate wave of guilt at the memory of the cop in his room. Of how he'd sprinted out with a hurried apology. Not this time, he urged himself. Debbie pushed the door open and stepped out. Neil held his breath and followed her. Nothing raced toward them or grunted or shrieked. The hospital's courtyard lights had turned on, but the lumps he'd been watching were too far from any of the lights to really be illuminated. Shay pushed his back gently and he jumped and then moved out of the way. Cody waved him over to a large trashcan. He held a finger to his lips and then pointed to the can and jerked his head toward the door where Debbie still held it open. Neil nodded and they lifted the heavy can together. He tried not to let it rub against his wounded palm, but the weight pulled and burned his skin. Neil shuffled slowly backward, not trusting Cody's coordination enough to let him do it. He stumbled himself as his heel hit the pavement walkway. He'd been watching the shadows instead of looking at his path over his shoulder. He'd been certain he saw one move again. The sudden halt to his momentum made him overbalance. He tipped, watched Cody's eye widen in shock and then—

Shay's hand yanked him upright before the can could crash into the ground. Neil's heart finally realized he was in danger and began pounding several seconds too late. They got the can to the door and set it carefully down. Neil took several deep, rapid breaths to calm himself. Cody tugged his arm toward the path and Neil realized the others were already several steps ahead. He glanced at the silhouette near the thin pile of plywood. It was definitely moving. He was certain now that his eyes had adjusted. He gripped Cody's hand hard and pointed. Cody paused for a moment, nodded and pulled the phone out of his pocket, raising it toward the moving shadow. It took Neil a few seconds to realize he was trying to film it. Stupid, he thought, grab the others. He's too slow. And who the fuck cares about us dying? Why film it? He slipped past Cody who didn't even look up. Randi might care. Someday. He brushed the depressing thought aside. He didn't have time for it. He wasn't going to let them die in here.

Debbie glanced back and he pointed to the moving figure off to the side. It was rocking or swaying. Not quite rhythmically but definitely not the ripple of wind. He strained to listen, hoping to hear some sort of human sound from it, some sort of weak and reasonable call for help. Or just weeping. Even that would be saner than the grunts and rasps of the people who'd attacked. He was too far from it to hear anything at all. Just the cold December wind whistling through the courtyard. Debbie had grabbed Shay and all four of them stood staring at the shifting bundle.

"Come on," whispered Shay, "It's no good waiting until it notices us. We have to get to that door."

"Don't call them an 'it,'" whispered Debbie. "That's a person. Just an ill person."

"Sorry. Doesn't change the fact we should move." She pulled her arm free of Debbie's grasp and continued down the pathway, though not without several glances back toward the figure.

Cody nudged Neil as they got closer to the far wing of the hospital. "The windowsss are boarded," he murmured. Neil peered into the twilight. Pale squares of raw wood glimmered against the cinderblock walls. The plywood stopped halfway down, leaving the door and a cluster of lit windows at the back corner of the courtyard unobstructed. There was movement behind them. Rapid flashes of pale blue and dark red shone through as several figures moved erratically behind the glass. It was too far to see more clearly than that. Neil was grateful for the distance.

"They didn't finish," he whispered back. Cody pointed his phone grimly at the windows for a few seconds. Neil turned away before Cody could use the camera's zoom function.

18

He followed Shay and Debbie around a corner into the narrow, trellised alley that led to the exit and halted in dismay. They'd reached the spot where the door to the parking lot ought to be. Two large floodlights washed the structure that had been placed there in a bright, harsh blaze. The door itself was gone, the splintered wreckage of the door and the small fence wall that had housed it piled beside the trellis arch. In its place, two large concrete barriers made a low wall across the opening. Concertina wire was slung above them, the sharp edges glinting in the stark light. And beyond that, a riot truck parked across the small outlet to the parking lot.

"Shit," muttered Debbie.

Neil looked back, but both the moving shadow and Cody were around the corner, out of his line of vision. Shay grunted softly. He looked back to see her trying to remove her shirt and wincing as the fabric slid past her bandaged wounds.

"What are you doing?" asked Debbie.

"Going to need something to cover that barbed wire," she answered, wriggling slowly free. Neil tried to help with his good hand.

"Are you crazy?" asked Debbie. "Those razors will slice you to hell. A shirt's not going to do any good—"

"Jeans then," muttered Neil. "Hold on a moment, you can have mine. We'll push down the wire with some of those boards." He began unbuckling his belt.

"Good idea. These ones aren't much good, but any little bit extra..." Shay unbuttoned her own.

"No, keep yours on. Protect your legs as much as you can. Gonna give you my shoes to put over your hands."

"Stop," hissed Debbie, trying to pull Shay's shirt back over her head. "This is insane. Your clothes are going to be ripped to shreds and then your skin. Even with the cloth. And if you got over, what then?"

"Climb the side of the truck," said Shay, ducking the shirt. "Or slide under. I'll see when I get there."

"Think for a minute. Would you—" Debbie grabbed Neil's belt loop, yanking to keep his pants in place. "Just stop and think. Think about what this wire being here means. Those people— the sick ones, you think they'd stop to cushion their hands or use a board to make it easier to crawl over? You think anything at all would stop them? The only way they stop is when someone knocks them unconscious. Or worse. Those policemen or— or military or whoever did this— they know that. They've got more information about the sick people than I do, and I've been seeing them for days. They have access to a lot more labs and doctors and who knows? Maybe some kind of secret intelligence about some sort of— of attack or something. Probably know what on earth is causing it. They didn't string this up to keep the people who are already sick inside. Probably just— just— eliminate them, if they made it past the quarantine." Her shoulders lurched and she covered her mouth and turned away. Another lurch and Neil could hear her forcing deep breaths. "The wire is for us," she said without turning back around. "A warning. We break out, we cross over, they'll assume we're sick because only sick people would try. And they'll act accordingly."

"You don't know that," said Neil. "They sent in people to get us out. They don't know they're all dead—"

"Sent 'em in to keep us here, Neil," muttered Shay. "Weren't you listening? They put us all in one room to keep an eye on us. There was no plan to get us out. We were just supposed to hunker down and wait out the quarantine. The only thing those policemen— or whatever they were, were meant to do was keep the sick ones from wiping us out while we waited. And they failed. Obviously, the people outside don't know everything. Or they would have known how to tell if someone was going to snap. And all those policemen would still be alive. Or not here at all. Right?" she touched Debbie's shoulder.

"I guess." Debbie turned back to look at the barrier. "Doesn't change the point. We get past the barrier here, they'll shoot us. We should go back to the cafe. Wait out the quarantine like we're supposed to. I can— I can keep looking. Maybe I'll find out something. Maybe we can trade it for help. We still have the lab results from the people in the ER. Got plenty of... patients. For more samples. The man in the bathroom and your friend in the gift store, that one out—" she jerked a thumb toward the mouth of the alley. "Where's Cody?"

Neil glanced back. "He was right behind me." He struggled to buckle his belt without re-injuring his hand. "Come on, we need to find him. I didn't hear any yells so the— person in the courtyard probably didn't attack."

Shay stared at the barrier for another few seconds. It was obvious she didn't want to turn around. Debbie moved back toward the courtyard. "Hey," whispered Neil, "We can get some mats or a mattress or something. Come back, if you want. Better than a pair of jeans and a cotton shirt for the barbed wire anyway."

"My kids are out there. No offense but if it comes to you guys or them—"

"I know, I know. Randi too. We're going to get out, one way or another. If not here then we're going to find a gap or a— a forgotten entrance. But we have to stick together. We have to help each other."

He tugged her hand, trying to urge her back into the courtyard. She jerked her hand back. "Why? I could get over the wire right now. Why do I need your help? Or the others? Why do you need mine?"

"Because what if Debbie's right? What if they shoot at us as soon as we get in sight? Or— or what if we can't get over the truck and have to find another way? There's still a lot of sick people in here. I saw them through the window back there. If something happens— look, I'd find your kids. Because I know. I know what you're feeling right now. And Cody's kids. I'd tell 'em. I'd help them if I could. And if— if something happened to me, I hope you'd do the same."

"We're in a hospital, Neil. My work. I'm here every day. I cook food. My best friend sells overpriced stuffed animals and get-well cards. My other coworkers type all day. Or clean the floors or try and make sick kids feel better. We aren't going to die in here. But out there, our kids are out there with nothing to—"

"Maybe that was true a few days ago. Maybe it should be true, but I've found two dead bodies today and left another man to die. And then there's these," he said holding his bandaged hand up to his wounded neck. "I'm not feeling very strong or protected right now. How about you?"

Shay didn't have an answer for him.

"So we stick together. When we get home, you can call me up and make fun of me for overreacting the rest of my life. I don't care. But if something happens to one of us— I'm not asking you to step in front of one of those things for me, Shay. Or even to help me get out. I'm just asking, if you get out, find my mom. Help her protect my daughter. I'd find your family." He slid his wallet out, the faded school photo of Randi with a gap in her teeth, smiling out at him. He pulled it out. Then his ancient emergency contact card. His mom had made him carry it when he was in high school. She always thought the wrestling team was going to suffer some tragic bus crash or something. The habit had stuck. He thrust both toward Shay. "Take it," he said. "In case. And when we find a pen, you give me your address and kids' names. We'll get Cody's. And whoever Debbie wants, if she does. Just in case."

Shay took the photo and the creased emergency card. She placed them carefully together and tucked them into her bra. "Safest spot," she explained and then wriggled back into her shirt with his help.

"Come on," he said, "Cody and Debbie shouldn't be left alone out there with that— person."

The dark was dense in the courtyard as they turned the corner, the hospital wall blocking the floodlights in the alley. Neil ran into Debbie before his eyes could adjust and caught her before they could both go crashing into the ground.

"Sorry," he whispered. "Where's Cody?"

She pointed to a small, bobbing light halfway across the courtyard. It was Cody's phone, the only thing Neil could make out for a moment.

"Is he— did it happen?"

"No. But I don't know what did. He's filming that person. The one we thought was moving earlier. He's too close. I don't dare call to him. I don't know why they haven't attacked him yet. They aren't blind. Must see the light. Unless— maybe it's a new symptom?"

Neil pushed carefully past her and she grabbed his hand. He winced in pain where her fingers brushed his wounds, but she didn't let go.

"Where are you going?"

"To get him."

"You can't. You'll draw attention—"

"Maybe. But if he's attacked, I want to be closer when it happens, to help. And it beats standing here waiting for something terrible to happen. Gonna grab him and then we're going to figure out how to get over that fence or keep going to the tunnel. We're getting out of here. You want to wait in the cafe until someone decides to help, be my guest. But Shay and I are going."

He shook her off and crept slowly toward the pale square of light that was Cody's phone. His eyes had adjusted slightly and the pale light from the unboarded windows across the courtyard helped him pick out a tangle of dark shadows. Cody's shadow was still and tall, one arm extended holding out the phone. At his feet, a jumble of different shapes. None of them really moved. Neil wondered if the sick person were still there or if they had wandered away while he had been out of sight. Or if Cody had killed them. He glanced back at Debbie and Shay, almost risking another whisper to ask if she was certain Cody hadn't already snapped. He forced himself forward instead. He almost tripped over the edge of the thin plywood pile that had been abandoned in the center of the courtyard and did knock over a small box of screws, sending them scattering with a jarring tinkle. Cody whirled around, the pale light from his phone slimming, then disappearing as he did. Neil's eyes clenched closed and he held his breath, waiting for Cody or the person on the ground to tackle him. When neither happened, he opened his eyes again.

"Just me," Neil whispered. "Neil, remember? You still there Cody?"

Cody's shadow sagged as he relaxed. "Yeah. Ssstill me."

Neil held out his uninjured hand. "Gotta go, man."

"But look." Cody grabbed the hand but pulled Neil closer, and Neil stumbled over the edge of the plywood. Neil could hear Debbie or Shay gasp behind him and he teetered over the still bundle of cloth and flesh at his feet. Cody caught him before he could fall. "Ssorry," he said, patting Neil's chest once. "You need to see." A fan of light erupted from his phone and jittered over the pile of bodies on the ground. Most of them were face-down, for which Neil was deeply grateful. For a few seconds, all he registered was blood. Dried, dark blood in branching trails across anonymous patches of skin. Glistening, still soupy blood in the center of deep holes and gashes, catching the light from the phone. Then he connected the blood to the bodies. To the idea it had come from that flesh. That it wasn't some movie special effect or those corn syrup blood packets Randi liked to fool around with at Halloween. They're dead, he realized. Course they are. You knew that already— but they're dead. Really dead. And there are a lot of them. Not just one lying in the middle of the hallway or tucked away in someone's room. Six? Seven? So many body parts. It could be three or could be ten for all I can tell. Why are they all cut up? And then, the last part hit him. Not cut, you know what cut meat looks like. Bit. Those are teeth marks. Chewed. Why are they— His brain went a snowy kind of blank, like he'd walked into a sudden blizzard and he felt a retch rumbling up in his stomach. He shut his eyes and forced a heavy breath through his nose.

"They don't attack," said Cody. "After they're— full. They just— shlow down. Thiss one fell 'sleep. She wasn't before, when I got closhe."

"You got close? Why did you get close?" asked Neil, opening his eyes and quickly looking up to Cody to avoid seeing more gore. Cody waved the phone slightly. "Had to show 'em. And she was shlow. Really shlow. Took a chance."

Neil scowled. "That thing's gonna get you killed. We need to get out of here, not make a movie."

"Thing's gonna save uss. You want your kid to know what to do. So do I. Don't know if we're getting out of the quarantine, Neil. SSpecially me. Can't go out there. But I can show my girlss anyway. Your kid too. All of 'em out there. They don't attack after they've eaten. I think. Maybe. Or maybe this one's dying." Cody leaned over to look more closely at the sleeping woman. She was draped over the gnawed hip of one of the bodies. Neil could see her chest rise and fall. She was alive. How did you fall asleep after this? Why didn't you snap out of it? Why aren't you horrified?

"It's freezing out here. How on Earth did she fall asleep? She say anything before she passed out?" he asked.

"Nothing. Didn' ask her to. Didn' wanna draw attention." He glanced up at Neil. "It might have been a crazy thing to get closher, but I'm not an idiot." He frowned down at the woman. "Not yet, anyway. Maybe the bodies are sstill... maybe they're sstill warm. Made a— a nest." Cody retched, but stopped himself. Neil wanted to vomit as well.

"You sure she— did this?"

"Can't be all of it. Thesse guys had weapons. Ssee?" he shone the phone's light over a uniformed hip. Neil tried not to stare at the grayish-pink loop of intestine spilling out beside it. There was a holstered gun on the corpse's belt.

"Didn't even have a chance to draw it," said Neil.

"We should take it," Shay's voice was shocking beside him and he flinched.

"What? No."

She leaned over, her hand outstretched. Neil pulled on her shoulder to stop her. "No, Shay."

"Thought you said you wanted to get out of here. That you'd do anything to warn your daughter and your mom."

"Sure, but—"

"You want to wait until they all fall asleep? We don't even know how many other sick people are in here. There were sixty of us in the conference room and that was only the people they found immediately. There could be dozens more from the pediatric wing. Or maybe you want to tear off an arm like a drumstick and carry it around to throw at one of the sick ones? Like you were soothing a mad dog?"

"Can't be dozens more. Debbie said they evacuated the patients who were stable—"

"Didn't evacuate us. Loads of housekeepers and lab techs and registrars—"

The sick woman shifted in her sleep and Shay stopped.

"Okay, okay, I get your point," Neil whispered when the woman had become still again. "But we don't need the gun. There's a way out right here. We find a doormat or a cot mattress or something and go over. We're out. Safe. We don't need a gun for that. We'll just keep going the way we have."

"Got to go back in the building for anything like that. 'Less you want to roll her off the plywood and use it," said Cody.

Neil shook his head.

"Got to go back in then. Just avoiding them didn't work out so hot lasht time." He pointed to the bandages on Neil's neck. "Could be worse next time."

"They're just people. You heard Debbie. There's got to be another way to get past—"

"Sure," agreed Shay, "lots of ways. You want to hit 'em with the frying pan next time? Maybe we'll find a scalpel? Heck, I'd bet Cody could even find some rat poison."

"Of course not."

"It all comes to the same thing, Neil. Except this way's fast and a lot more likely to work the first time."

"I don't want to kill anyone."

"Neither do I. Neither does Cody or Debbie. But if it means we get to save our families, wouldn't you do it?"

Neil had no real answer for her. Picking up the gun would seem like permission. Would seem like he was inviting an attack. God protects the foolish and insane, right? he thought. Maybe it works for the unprepared, too. But Shay was right. If he ended up cornered, he knew he'd grab for the nearest thing. He'd do it, he knew. And it was likely better— kinder, to do it fast, wasn't it? "Do you even know how to use it?" he asked.

"No. Do you?"

"No."

Shay glanced at Cody. He shook his head. "Even if I did— you really want me having one? Knowing I might— that I could—" he waved at the sleeping woman. Shay bent over and unbuttoned the holster.

"They're watching us," whispered Neil quickly. "Our kids. Right now. Or will, no matter how this turns out. Cody's got it all, right? You really want them to see their mom picking up a weapon? Getting ready to kill somebody?"

Shay hesitated.

"Can turn it off," Cody said reluctantly.

"No. If there really are soldiers ready to shoot out there, doing it while people are watching might make them hesitate. At least half a second," murmured Debbie, who'd finally gathered the courage to get closer to the sleeping woman.

Shay straightened, turned to face Cody. She pulled his arm up so the phone's camera light flooded her face. "I'm okay with them seeing. Benji, if you're watching this— you get your sisters and stay in the house. Don't you open that door for anyone. If someone's sick, you don't hesitate, right? You protect them. I'll get back to you soon as I can. Whatever I have to do to get back to you, ok? Whatever I have to do." She crouched down again, closing her hand around the gun grip. "Done arguing about this. We need it, we have it. And I'd rather blow myself up than get— eaten, so if it backfires, I'm still ahead. You want to, there's probably some more of them around. We can check the other bodies." She wriggled the gun free and then looked up at Cody, who shook his head vigorously. Neil hesitated when she glanced at him.

"How badly do you want to help your daughter?" she asked him. "Because I know what I'm willing to do to protect mine."

"I don't want to kill anyone," Neil repeated. "I'll stick with the frying pans or the speed of my feet because at least that way, there's a chance they make it to some kind of cure."

"Or they run into someone else—"

"Maybe," he admitted. "You asked what I'm willing to do, and I've told you. Now you know. Let's drop it."

She shook her head, her mouth narrowing to a slim, frustrated line, but she didn't say anything else.

19

"What're we gonna do with her?" asked Cody, pointing at the sleeping woman.

"Anyone else still— alive out here?" asked Shay.

"Didn't find anyone. Didn't look very hard though," admitted Cody. "No one moving." He shifted the phone to shine on another clump of bodies in the far corner of the yard. "Ress are over there. Close to the other door. Ssick ones in there. Sstill fighting."

Neil grabbed his arm, pulling it gently down. "Best not attract them then. We should check though."

"They're probably dead. We'd hear someone calling for help, otherwise," said Shay.

"You sure?"

"No. But do you want to hang around and hope she doesn't wake up?"

"I'll check them," said Debbie. "I'll know what needs to be done, anyway."

"I'll go with you," offered Neil. "You guys can figure out a way over that wire. We'll be right back."

"I told you, we can't go through that barric—" protested Debbie.

"I know what you said. Let's check the bodies, we'll argue about it after we're done."

"We agreed not to split up," said Shay.

"Not far," said Cody. "Mats are by the door we came through and sspare sstretchers in the lab jus' inside. We can see it from here." He pointed toward the door. "Any trouble, we'll all know."

Shay puffed out her cheeks but didn't argue.

"Five minutes, Shay, and we'll be outside, in the parking lot, on our way home," said Neil.

She nodded and followed Cody toward the door. Neil pulled Debbie into the dark, beyond the bright circle of Cody's cell phone light. "Why are they eating people, Debbie?" he whispered. "I mean, I was hungry this afternoon but the most anyone could have gone in here without food is what? Twenty-four hours or so? So why are they hungry enough to want to eat— that?"

"I don't know. I thought it was just— bites. Aggression. That's why we tested for rabies. Some new very severe strain of it. Or drugs. Actually consuming is something— else."

Neil tripped over something— or someone. Debbie caught him and then crouched down. She handed him her phone, turning on the light. "You don't have to look," she said, arranging his hand. "Just hold the light still so I can see. And keep an eye on that sleeping one while I do this." She lifted someone's arm from the pile. Neil was grateful for the excuse to look away, concentrating on the shadowy heap they'd just left, watching for any movement. Cody and Shay were already reentering the hospital.

"If we were— somewhere sane," whispered Debbie behind him, "I'd say maybe it's some kind of malnutrition or acute anemia coupled with some psychological component but— it was so fast. None of the tests showed any kind of deficiency beyond what I'd expect from a normal modern diet." She was quiet for a few moments. The squelch of something wet made Neil even more nauseated than he already was. He didn't turn around. "And the fact that she didn't attack us, that she apparently ate and then fell asleep might mean she was satiated or that her blood sugar levels are not within norms. But she's only one person. Maybe she's diabetic and it caused extreme fatigue. Maybe she's got some mental health issues that compel her to—"

"There were a lot of chunks taken out of those bodies back there," interrupted Neil. "I don't think that was the work of one person. I think the others either went back into the hospital or— or turned on each other."

"You may be right, but I can't really tell anything from one person. These are all dead. We can— we can figure out what to do with the sleeping person." She stood up, wiping her hands with a corner of her shirt.

"Should we— do anything with her? There's no one else out here. She's got plenty to— to eat without hurting anyone else. She's— safe until we get help."

Debbie shuddered. "We can't let her keep eating the corpses. She'll get a secondary infection. Besides the obvious moral quandary. When she's better, she'll be mortified to know what she did while she was sick. And even were it not for that— it's freezing out here. She'll die of exposure before the night's over. We have to at least get her inside."

"She'll wake up. And we have no guarantee that she'll be any better than when she first snapped. Maybe the eating makes them calm, but we don't know how long it lasts. And where are we going to put her?"

Debbie shrugged. "We'll ask Cody. Got to be another bathroom or storage room or something around here. The x-ray lab has a few beds. If we can restrain her until we get there, she should be safe there."

"We could get some of those emergency blankets and bring them out here instead."

"If she wakes up she'll just sling them off. Besides, those need to be under her as well to be effective. They don't seem to have the capacity to make rational decisions like curling up in available blankets. Even when it results in pain, they still attack. Adrenaline may account for some of that but— I'm not entirely sure. I watched plenty of them struggle in restraints for hours. Had one patient who was still coherent chew his fingernails and then his fingers until they were bloody. The only thing that stopped him was sedation. And that was before he snapped. I don't think she'd seek out warmth. What Cody said— these bodies weren't warm. I think she just dropped into them because that's where sleep overtook her. I don't know. I just don't know."

Neil sighed. "Okay then. We wait for Cody and Shay to come back and then deal with her together before going over the wires."

Debbie shook her head. "I told you that's a bad idea. You and Shay have serious injuries already. You're feeling ok right now because of the painkillers I gave you, but you aren't. You twist wrong or pull yourself up the wrong way, those stitches are going to split wide open again. Not to mention the new injuries you're going to get climbing over."

"We're doing it. It's the fastest way. Besides, the only way they'll let us break quarantine is if we agree to submit to one in a safer place."

"If the soldiers aren't ordered to shoot us on sight," said Debbie.

"They won't. Cody's been broadcasting his video since the cafe. Someone has to have seen it. They won't dare to shoot us now."

"Look, I know I said that it would hopefully cause anyone with orders to shoot to hesitate, but I doubt it'll be for long, Neil. I don't know how many people are watching our weird little home movie, but if you don't think more than half of them aren't calling for this place to be firebombed right now because of what Cody's shown them, then you obviously need to spend more time online. They aren't going to be on our side. Not enough of them, anyway. Don't know anything about us except that we're in some kind of dark horror film where we keep finding dead bodies. Besides— what are we going to do with Cody? We can't let him walk out of here knowing he's infected—"

"But we don't. You don't know what the hell this is—"

"Shhhh!" warned Debbie. The woman's shadow shifted and Neil held his breath.

"You said yourself, you can't find anything," he whispered, after a moment of stillness fell over the courtyard. "For all we know, it's something in this hospital, some allergen or toxin or whatever. And taking him out is the best thing for him—"

"Doesn't explain the footage from London. Or that mall. And you got bitten by someone at a parade a half dozen miles from here—"

"A homeless man who may have come here for help an hour before. Or spent the night here because someone picked him up and tried to get him somewhere warm. Maybe you were right the first time, maybe the riots and the violent shoppers were just— us. Standard operating procedure. We don't know that Cody's a danger or that even if you're right and this is some kind of infection, that he's not going to be the first one to resist the worst of it—"

"That doesn't mean he won't infect other people, Neil."

"We can't predict everything. For all we know, he could already have infected us, too."

"That's exactly my point. We can't do this. We need to go back to the cafe. We need to wait for help and stay safe until then."

"I can't. I haven't been able to reach anyone in days now. Neither have you. Something's wrong. More wrong than what we've seen. Maybe they've had to quarantine other places and are running out of men. Or maybe they've already decided to firebomb us like you're scared of and we're just waiting for those planes to fly over like they do in the movies. We just don't know. Either way, it's no good sitting here. Not unless you're ready to just wait to die. Are you ready for that?"

"Of course not," hissed Debbie.

"Then no more pushing us to go back to the cafe. We're getting out of here, Cody too. What happens after that has to be better than what's in here with us. Even if we get over that truck and someone waves a gun at us, at least we'll know what's going on. What they've been ordered to do. At least we'll know that they know what's happening in here. For sure. If you're with us, you're with all of us, understand?"

"How long's that going to last? What happens when Cody's infection gets too severe? Or— even if it doesn't, what happens when Shay shoots someone? How long are we going to stick together then? We aren't friends, Neil."

"I know. And that's why you have to stop trying to peel me apart from the other two. We stand a better chance together. So you need to be with us. Otherwise, you gotta go. We keep fighting with each other about what to do, and things are going to get worse. The longer we take to make decisions, the more chances someone sick has to attack us. Or someone outside has to blow us up. If Cody thinks we're about to abandon him, why would he help us? If Shay really thinks I'm not willing to defend us somehow, she'll use me as a meat shield instead, next time a sick person finds us. We have to be together. Or we gotta go our separate ways. This in-between stuff, this is far more dangerous. You decide now, Debbie, what you want to do. And who you want to save. Because it's not going to be everyone in here. It can be just you or it can be all of us, including Cody."

She exhaled a slow, stuttering breath and then nodded.

"Good. Let's get over that wire and get out of here."

20

Neil wasn't certain why he was trying so hard to hold them together. Maybe they would have been better off apart, each looking for their own way out. At least one of them might make it, might find some forgotten exit and get out. But the terror he felt in just imagining crawling through the massive, unfamiliar hospital complex on his own with who knew how many of the sick people lurking behind every door was crippling. Neil would have found a place to hide and stayed there, he knew it. Even knowing his family was outside, none the wiser about what was going on. He knew it about himself and hated it, but it didn't change things. Being with the other three kept him courageous, at least for the moment.

It put him in a difficult spot. The balance between them was fragile. He should have been the one on the edge, the one bartering to stay in the group. The other three had known each other for years. Worked together, maybe even socialized. Yet it was Neil keeping the peace between them. It was alarming and uncomfortable.

It almost happened again when they dealt with the woman sleeping in the courtyard. Shay and Cody emerged from the hospital interior, struggling to carry a gurney pad and a few thick floor mats between them. Neil had hurried to help them, though with his injured hand he didn't manage to lighten the load much. Cody tripped over the pile of plywood. Debbie caught him before he could go sprawling, but the loud thud of the wood slapping back together made them all hold their breath. Neil tried desperately to peer into the middle of the courtyard, but the dark was too deep by then to truly see anything. No sound from the sleeping woman and no movement at the far door. It took several seconds for Shay to sigh with relief and jerk her head toward the alleyway.

"Come on," she whispered, "Let's get out of here."

They let the pad flop onto the ground beside the barrier and Neil piled the mats beside it, moving to grab one of the splintered fence boards. "Help me with this," he said, "we need to pull down that wire a little so we can get the fabric over the barrier that we won't cut ourselves on."

Cody bent to pick up another board.

"What about the woman?" asked Debbie. Neil saw Cody freeze.

"What about her?" asked Shay.

"We've got to put her somewhere. Before we go. We can't just leave her in the courtyard."

"Why not?"

"Besides the fact that she's— consuming bodies you mean?"

Shay sighed and reached for a board. "Looked to me like the damage was already done. They're past feeling it."

"She'll get sick."

"She's already sick, Debbie. At least, I hope she is. Otherwise, that's pretty messed up. She's not hurting anyone that can be helped, right? We try and move her, we might get injured. Again. And we waste time we could be getting help—"

"She'll freeze. It only takes a little while. The chances of anyone coming to help her before she does is—"

"Maybe that's— okay."

"What?" hissed Cody. "You want her to die?"

"No," said Shay, picking at the board. "I don't want her to, but— maybe it's, you know... kinder."

"Kinder than what?" asked Debbie.

"If we put her inside, she's just going to get attacked by another sick person. Or attack some poor sap like us who stumbles over her—"

"So we lock her up. In another bathroom or a lab or something."

"Say we do. Say we lock her up. It's going to take anyone who comes to help longer to find her. Say that it's only a few hours and she doesn't hurt anyone or doesn't get hurt and say they figure out what's going on. Find a way to treat it. You saw what she did out there. I don't know what her life was before this, but we can all pretty well guess what happens after they fix whatever this is. Prison maybe. Or an institution. And that's just her body. Would you want to wake up after— after that? Knowing what you did?"

"We don't know what she did. Not— entirely. I think we can be fairly— we can make a pretty educated guess that she consumed some of the bodies, but that— they may already have been dead. Might not have been her at all—"

"But she'll never know that for sure. Not unless she remembers what she did. And if she does... I'm not saying we go back there and smash her in the head or anything—"

"No, you've got the gun for that sort of thing," muttered Neil.

"I'm not saying we kill her," continued Shay, "but maybe we let fate decide. She's sleeping. She's peaceful. Maybe it's best."

"This is disgusting," snapped Debbie.

"I wanna wake up," said Cody, listing sideways before righting himself. "Af'er. For my kids."

Shay rubbed her forehead. "Then why not get out of here and find your kids before something like that happens to you? Or before we end up chewed on like the bodies lying around her?"

"That's murder," said Debbie.

"It's not murd—"

"It doesn't matter," said Neil, trying to think fast, to figure out a way to stall the argument before it got worse. "We can't leave her out there. Even if it might be kinder to her if we did, we've got two good reasons not to."

Shay shook her head but didn't interrupt.

"For one, we don't know if she killed those policemen out there. But we know she'll hurt the next unsuspecting person who comes out here. You said so yourself, Shay. And two— we don't know what's going to happen when we get past that truck. It might involve lots of noise. Like shooting or shouting. If we have to come back or just— whoever's last up the ramp, you think she's going to sleep through that? We have to get her somewhere safe for our own sake, even if you don't want to do it for someone else's."

They were all quiet for a moment. He realized they were waiting for him to lay out some sort of plan. He didn't have one. Teeth, that's the dangerous part. We need a spot to put her and a way to stop her teeth.

"You have a key for a room near the door?" he asked.

Cody fumbled through the keyring and Neil turned to Debbie. "We need to cover her mouth. Maybe her hands so she doesn't scratch. She'll wake up when we try to move her."

"We can't leave her tied up—"

"We won't, but we have to stop her from biting while we move her. You said I could make things worse by twisting or jerking my wounds. I'm trying to stop that for all of us. You work in an emergency room, you must have had violent patients before. Ones who bit or who flailed."

Debbie nodded. "We'll get a wheelchair. There are some with restraints so patients don't fall, it'll work for now. Push a button and she's free, no unstrapping or buckling."

"You know where one is?"

"Should be one next to the elevator in the storage room."

"Is that far?"

Cody shook his head. "Closhe to the next bathroom anyway. Another hundred yards or sso."

"Got the key to that bathroom?"

Cody held up the ring, one key between his fingers.

"Ok," said Neil, "We go get the wheelchair and come back. Going to take all four of us to get her into it without someone getting hurt. Get her into the bathroom, untie her hands. She can free herself the rest of the way, but it'll give us a chance to lock the door between us while she tries. Then we come back here. Over the wire and out. Find help. For us, for her, for all the rest. Good enough?"

They'd finally agreed, though it seemed like it might be the very last bit of goodwill he'd get from them. If they didn't make a move soon, he thought they might split up for good. It took longer than any of them expected. Part of it was just navigating the wheelchair around the piles of wood and bodies. They'd been careful, timing it so they each grabbed one of the woman's limbs at the same time. But she was up, snarling and twisting as soon as they lifted her. Cody narrowly missed his hand being bitten and Neil had trouble hanging on to her flailing leg long enough to get her into the restraints. The noise was the worst. Three shrieks before Debbie managed to muffle her with a wad of bedsheet she'd brought for the purpose.

"Thank Jesus," muttered Shay when the woman's screams finally dwindled to a thin, shrill squeal behind the cloth. Neil looked around, expecting something to leap from the doorway or rise up from the jumbled corpses, but nothing did.

"Let's get her inside," he said. "I'm worried she'll suffocate. Or draw someone."

He struggled to push the wheelchair back through the courtyard. The woman flailed enough to almost tip it several times, but he got her to the door of the bathroom. Cody held it open. Neil pulled the cloth from her mouth and the screams echoed off the tile wall. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry," he said, fumbling with the button to release her hands. She clawed at him and he stumbled away from her, trying to escape before she could free herself completely. Cody slammed the door shut and locked it. It would be almost two years before he knew she couldn't untie her legs. And he'd never know that it took her three days to chew her own fingers down to the bone or that she died of thirst a few days after.

21

The wire had less give than Neil had expected it to. It had looked as if it would droop with the slightest downward pressure, but even once he and Debbie had lain several fence boards against it, it only slightly dipped.

"Just throw the mattresses on top and give me a boost," said Shay. "It isn't so high up, I can slide down the mattress and catch myself on the truck."

"It shouldn't be you who goes. You and Neil are the most injured," said Debbie.

"We're all going over eventually—"

"Maybe. Or maybe the first one over finds out we can't get through. Or that we get turned back, or finds a— a stepladder or something. It should be me or Cody."

"You're injured too," said Neil, pointing at her hand.

"Yes, but not as badly as the two of you. I break a stitch, it'll be uncomfortable but the wound's probably almost clotted anyway. You get another good hit in the neck and your wound could get much worse. Besides which, I'm not even certain you're going to make it over that without a lot of help. You lost a lot of blood already, Neil. You're going to be weaker than you expect for a while. Like— days and days. And Shay might make it over the wire, but she's going to have to go under that truck. Scrape all those bites on the ground. An infection now could be— we don't know what this is. Is it in the soil? The water? And even aside from that, her injuries are going to make her slower. If she has to retreat, what then?"

"Can't be me," said Cody. "Even if I got over, police won' lissen oo me. Losing it soon. Can tell." His voice broke and he puffed out a shaky breath. Shay rubbed his arm and he steadied again. "Has to be you, Debbie. Shorry. 'N fact, maybe I shouldn't go 'tall."

"No, Cody you—"

"Let's see if anyone's leaving before we have to make decisions like that. No reason to torture each other until we actually have some way out. Or— or you lose it," said Neil before Debbie could insist Cody go or Shay jump in to fight about it. He pulled against the wire with one of the fence boards, trying to make it dip a little more. "Toss that mattress, Cody."

The gurney pad flopped over the wire. It was crooked, but when Shay tried to even it out, they could hear it tearing on the razors. "Leave it," said Neil, "Use the mats to make a wider surface." He swung one over the wire, overlapping a piece of the pad. Shay got the other.

"Try and stay on those overlaps if you follow," said Debbie, "Those razors slice through more than you'd expect. The thickest parts of the padding are going to be safest." She took a deep, steadying breath. "Ok. Give me a boost Cody."

Cody knelt and threaded his fingers together to give her a step up. She jumped up onto the gurney pad, slipping a little on its smooth surface.

"Be careful," said Neil.

"Remember what you said about the guards," called Shay. "Don't give them a chance to think you're sick. You see someone, start talking. The sick ones don't seem to talk."

Debbie nodded and skidded down the far side of the pad. Neil could hear her feet hit the tar on the other side. "You okay?" he called after a moment. Cody stared raptly at the mats as if he could see through them to the other side and Shay paced a few steps.

"Okay," came Debbie's voice, slightly muffled by the fabric between them. The light from her phone erupted around the edges of the mats and gurney pad. "Going under the truck now." The light dimmed and the shuffling beyond the mats decreased. Neil lifted the edge of one to look, but could only see the dusty side of the truck.

"Should've tole her to record it. Coulda seen then," said Cody, tapping his phone. They waited. Shay paced to the end of the alley, looked out, paced back.

"It's just a truck. Ten seconds, that's it, she'd be—" muttered Neil, but was interrupted by the crack of a gun and shouts.

"Not sick!" Debbie's voice cut through. "I'm not sick! Don't shoot!"

Some shouts from farther away, but they were too muffled to hear. Neil took a step toward the barrier, trying to hear.

"Boost me up," said Shay.

"Wait," said Neil.

An amplified voice reverberated in the narrow alleyway. "Return to the hospital. You are under quarantine."

"But we need help." Debbie's voice was uncertain, wavering.

"Help has been sent. A security squad is making sweeps of the hospital. They've set up a base of operations in the conference rooms on... L1. Make your way there and they'll meet you."

"Your squad is dead. They didn't even last the night."

Silence followed. Shay nudged Neil. "They won't shoot all of us," she whispered.

"Want to be—" Neil broke off as Debbie's voice floated over the truck again.

"Whatever you think is happening in here, it's— it's worse. Way, way worse. The people who have— whatever this is, they're not rational. They attack anything that moves. You can't leave us like this. It's not safe."

"Return to the hospital. Another security force will be sent to aid you."

"No, you don't understand. Your guys were overwhelmed. There are dozens of sick people. Even after the evacuation. We have no weapons. Or— or will to use them, frankly. But the sick people just attack. They're— eating us. You have to get us out of here. We'll— we'll go into another quarantine. Wait here for a cleanroom to be set up, whatever you want. But not inside. You can't send us back inside."

"Us?" came the loudspeaker voice.

Shay tugged on Neil's arm. "Boost me up, now. She needs help. They need to know."

"Be careful," said Neil kneeling to give her a step up.

"Five we gathered so far. But there are more healthy people here. They've been scattered. One of your guys got sick. Snapped last night. Started attacking people—"

"Impossible," came the loudspeaker voice. "Those men were healthy."

"Ask the people you have researching this. They must know the incubation period by now. Maybe you have another source of infection. Or maybe it's that rapid. Either way, we can't stay here."

More muffled shouting. Shay swung up onto the mats and had a leg over the top of the wire.

"Return to the hospital. I won't ask again. We can't risk contamination."

"No, I—"

A rattle of gunfire shook the truck and Shay ducked.

"Shit, shit, shit," whispered Cody, half jumping toward the wire instead of away.

Don't lose it, Neil willed him and grabbed Shay's leg and yanked her back down. A deep silence replaced the gunshots.

A cough and a groan from beyond the truck. Neil jumped for the mat without thinking and Cody grabbed the back of his shirt to stop him. "We have to get her. We have to help," said Neil. "Debbie?" he called.

"Shhhhh," hissed Cody in his ear. "Lissen."

Grunts echoed in the courtyard. Feet running. Then growls.

"The gunshots must have drawn them," whispered Shay. "We stay quiet, they'll— maybe they'll fill up on the bodies out there. Fall asleep and we can move."

Neil held his breath, Cody's hand still twisted into the fabric of his shirt and Shay pulled the gun out of her pocket. She uses that, we can kiss any hope of them ignoring us goodbye, he realized. Another, weaker groan from beyond the truck. Then the amplified voice began again.

"Anyone inside who can hear this, don't try to..."

"Shit," hissed Cody again. The footsteps and grunts got louder.

"We have to move," whispered Neil, scooping up a broken fence board. "Back the way we came. Now." He took a step toward the mouth of the alley only to be jerked back again by Cody's grip on his shirt.

"But Debbie—" Cody started.

"She's dead. We're all dead if we don't get some barrier between us and the people out there," said Shay, pulling Cody's arm. The amplified voice was saying something about shooting. Neil ignored it and twisted free of Cody. Two figures appeared in the mouth of the alley.

"We go now," cried Neil and sprinted toward them, his broken board swinging out in front of him. For an instant, he worried they were healthy, but the way they ran at him tore the idea away. Lurching and lunging, without flinching away from the sharp wood. He shoved one with the board, using the man's momentum to throw him to the side, but the other grabbed at him, fingers catching his collar. The seam pressed hard against his wound, making a searing line where the thick bandages smashed against the raw flesh. A thud and another gunshot, this one close enough to daze Neil for a second. He dropped the board and crouched, his arms over his head. Someone hauled him up and dragged him toward the courtyard. It was enough to snap him out of the panic. More people out in the open, maybe a half-dozen or so. Neil had no time to count, only a vague impression that some of them were fighting each other, wrestling and growling and shrieking in shadowy bundles nearby.

"Jesus," gasped Shay behind him.

A few of the loose shadows sprinted toward the alley opening where the loudspeaker voice still droned. The others focused on Cody, who was still dragging Neil. He stumbled, and Neil almost tripped over him. One of the figures leaped toward them. It slammed into Cody who let out a soft whoosh of air on impact.

"The fuck offa me," grunted Cody, struggling to catch the woman's hands. Neil grabbed her from behind, trying to haul her off, but it was more difficult than he'd expected. She twisted and kicked and clacked her teeth in snapping bites. "Sheryl?" Cody said just as Neil heaved her off of him and sent her sprawling.

"No time, man," he rasped, but Shay was already helping Cody up. More gunfire erupted behind them. The door to the hospital interior was only a few dozen feet ahead, a square of golden light. Neil's hand and shoulder pulsed with a low pain that only stayed half-submerged in his mind. Over it all was just a screaming sort of terror that insisted the door was too far away. Fingers grazed his arms, his legs, a hand smacked against his ankle and he jumped before it could close around him. Shay shouted and something clattered against the pavement. Neil didn't stop, pushing both her and Cody from behind. They were in the square of light falling from the door. Warm, wet air gusted into Neil's ear. Then a screech and he flinched, someone's face flashed beside his. He swung an arm and smashed into a cheek. It was off balance and the person only growled and shifted slightly, but it sent a twitching stab through the bite in his hand. A hand clawed his chest, clutching his stretched out shirt. The fabric gave with a startling rip and he swung out again.

"Stop!" yelled Shay, the hand releasing only to grab at another section of shirt. "Quit it, Neil."

He fell through the doorway and was dragged across the linoleum for a second. The door smacked its frame and clicked. It shuddered when something outside hit it. Neil stared around him. Nothing was familiar. Shit. We're on the other side. In the wrong hall. Why didn't we go back the way we came?

"Won' hold em. Jus' glass," said Cody, his breath coming in great whooshes.

"We've got to move. All that noise, there's more in this wing. Has to be," said Shay. "But the gun— I dropped the gun."

"Good," said Neil, pulling himself up from the floor. The door rattled as several hands smashed against it.

"Saved your life with it."

"Almost blew my head off with it. You even hit anything?"

"No," admitted Shay, "but it distracted one of the people trying to bite you. We should see if we can circle around, get it back."

"Are you insane? No. We aren't going back for the gun. We're getting out of here before they get through and—"

"Gottago back for Debbie," interrupted Cody. "Sstill alive. Heard her."

Neil shook his head. The door thumped.

"We're going back," insisted Cody, his expression hardening.

"First we have to regroup," said Shay before they could argue. "Can't stay here. They'll come through the glass in a minute. We have to find somewhere safe. Where they can't see us or hear. Then we figure it out."

"We can't lea' her 'ere with thosh things climbing up the wire!"

"We can't save her. What are you going to do?" cried Shay. "Wade out there and grab them all one by one, lock em up? You'll die before you even got one into a closet. We have to move. Whatever happens to Debbie— at least she's outside. She's got a platoon of fucking soldiers to help her. We've got no one but us."

Cody moved reluctantly from the door. "Aren't gonna help her," he muttered. "They shot her."

"I know, I know man," said Neil wrapping an arm around him. "But Shay's right. We've got no way to help her. Best thing we can do is find a way out. Find her family. So they know what happened. We go out there, we're all dead. Nobody's family ever knows."

Cody nodded and let Neil pull him down the corridor. He pulled his phone out of his pocket. "They know," he said. "Look. Half a million know." He pointed at the flood of notifications streaming in.

"You're still broadcasting this?"

"Yeah. Ssound at least. Couldn't hold it for them to ssee out there. I can show em again now."

Shay led them to a junction in the corridor. "Which way?" she asked.

"On thiss side? Tunnels are through cardio. But there'sh pharmacy to the right," slurred Cody.

Shay turned right without stopping to argue. Neil could still hear the courtyard door thudding behind them and glanced back, hoping he wouldn't see more sick people attracted by the noise. The corridor was empty. The next one was not.

Shay had frozen, stock-still in the center of the hallway, staring at the other end. A figure stood in the far corner gently swaying side to side. It was too far to see much beyond that. Dark spots that might be blood spattered its pants, but they could just as easily be paint. Or something else. Neil glanced down at himself. His own clothes were torn and stained both from the courtyard escape and from moving the sleeping woman. He imagined he appeared sick to anyone looking, too. He didn't think the figure had seen them yet. Or if it had, it was ignoring them. Full, maybe. Like the woman, he thought. Or sane, like us, but too run down and helpless to care anymore? Or too terrified to recognize a threat? Maybe this is how we die. Maybe we all just stand here in the hallway of a fucked up hospital too panicked to move until the sick ones find us. Or the soldiers shoot us. He tugged gently on Shay's wrist and she glanced over. He pointed to the bright red and white pharmacy sign about fifty feet further in. She shook her head. He walked toward it anyway, stepping slowly and trying not to make much sound. If the person at the end wanted to attack him— well, it was only one and they were far enough away that he'd be somewhat ready. He hoped. He looked back to find Cody and saw him aiming the phone at the swaying person. Neil wanted to yell at him, tell him to stop, to focus on what was happening, but wasn't even sure what good it would do. If he were honest, at this point he knew that Cody's video had a better chance of reaching his mom than Neil did. He hoped Randi would never see it.

The pharmacy door was thick metal, a small safety glass window set at the top. Dried blood flaked from it, coated the door handle. Neil glanced at the swaying figure. It hadn't moved. He could make out long hair now, a thick curtain hanging down. Neil couldn't really tell whether it was turned toward him or away. Cody and Shay had drifted closer to him. Shay blanched when she saw the bloodstains on the door, but Cody was still focused on filming the figure. Neil wondered if he could see more through the phone and half-wished he could tell him to zoom in so they could maybe see if the person were insane or not. Stupid, he told himself, can't see madness. Or if we could, we might look just as crazy. Probably do. Shay pointed at the door. Neil pressed the handle down, but it was locked. He peered through the safety glass. Something had wanted to get in at some point. His first instinct was to assume it had been a sick person chasing down someone else, but then— maybe it was a doctor, like Debbie, trying to get something they needed to save someone. Or someone running from the sick people just trying to find a safe place. He couldn't see much through the glass. The edge of the pharmacy counter and a magazine display. That was all.

He turned around and shook his head to Shay. "Locked," he mouthed. Shay nudged Cody who looked around, dazed. She pointed at the door and Neil jiggled the handle to show him. It took a few seconds for the idea to register. Neil saw it in his face. Getting worse, he thought, when Cody finally nodded. He handed Neil the phone and carefully pulled the keyring from his belt, wincing as it jingled. Neil focused the phone on the figure. He found the option to zoom and focused in. Definitely blood on its pants and its boots. Jeans and a flannel jacket. The hair covered its face, clung in places, some of it slightly matted but Neil could tell it was turned toward him. Neil wondered if he should call out to them. It was only a matter of time before someone from the courtyard broke through and wandered down here. Or another sick person did. If this one was sane then—

A puff of warm air hit him as the pharmacy door swung open. Cody took the phone back. Shay stepped inside. Neil opened his mouth to call to the person, but Cody slapped a hand over it and shook his head. They slipped into the pharmacy and shut the door.

"What if they're not sick?" whispered Neil as soon as the door closed.

"She is," said Cody.

"We don't know that. We all look like her right now." He held up the shreds of his shirt.

Cody shook his head. "Not her clothes. Hands. All bloody."

"So? Could have been the one trying to get in here. Maybe she's bloody because something attacked her."

"No. Did it hersel'. Saw it with Debbie. In the ER. Chew up their fingers. Before."

"You don't know—"

"Look," said Cody and put his hand on the door handle. He considered, backed up again, brought the hand to his mouth and hushed Neil in warning. Then he opened the door and stepped back out. He held up the phone and pointed at it, indicating Neil should look. He zoomed all the way in on the woman's hands. They'd been bandaged at some point, the gauze was now a dull brownish-yellow and ragged, trailing from her wrist and palm. Her fingers welled and dripped with fresh blood. Neil shook his head but stayed quiet. Cody held up a finger. He pointed to the dark doorway at the end of the corridor, then readjusted the phone's focus. There were people slumped against the frame. Two that Neil could make out. He shook his head and pulled Cody back through the door.

"Maybe they're asleep," he said, "Maybe they couldn't find anywhere safe so they stayed there and she's the watchman. Maybe that's why she's swaying, to keep herself awake. Could have been hurt by something else. Hell, could have just cut her hand and broken a stitch. I have." He held up his bandaged hand. Blood had seeped through and dried on the gauze.

"She'ss ssick," whispered Cody. "She killed the people in the doorway. Or found em. Ate em. Now she'ss quiet. Like the other one in the courtyard."

"We don't know that. What if she's not sick? What if they need help? You wanted to charge through a courtyard filled with people that want to tear us apart to get Debbie. All we have to do to help them is call out, tell them we have a safe place."

"Let them find their own safe place. We did," said Shay, coming out from behind the counter. "This one is empty and quiet. Like to keep it that way."

"That's awfully cold," said Neil.

"It's practical. Cody says she's infected. If she is, she's dangerous. You say she's watching for trouble while the others sleep. She didn't notice us. So if she's their watchman, she's bad at it. Which makes her dangerous. Either way, she's not going to be able to help us. Lock the door, Cody."

"It's not about her helping us. It's about us helping her," said Neil. Cody's keys jingled as he turned the lock.

"Best way to help her and anyone else in this hospital is to get the news out about what's happening here. They might know about the quarantine, but I guarantee they didn't know about soldiers shooting anyone who asked for help. At least not until Cody recorded it." She stopped, turned to Cody. "You did record that, right?"

"What I could. Couldn't ssee much. Shoulda given Debbie the phone. Maybe they wouldn't have— wouldn't have—" He choked up and stopped.

"They would have," said Shay rubbing his back. "They don't know about the video or they would have been ready for us. But now— maybe the people who saw it start sharing it. Maybe the next Debbie that goes out there, they listen to. Maybe. Maybe when we find a way out, they don't shoot us. So. Our biggest priority is getting news out. For our kids. For everyone out there. If that means we don't rescue everyone, then— we don't rescue everyone. This pharmacy only has one exit, Neil. The one we're standing in front of. Not even a delivery door. I just checked. We call out to her and she turns out sick, we'll only have one choice if we have to get out of here. You want to kill her? Because that's what's going to happen. We leave her alone, she wanders away or falls asleep or finds someone else. We get her attention and she freaks out in the hallway, she'll attract attention or at best hurt one of us more. Then we have to deal with her. We're running out of humane spots to put people. No running water in here. No bathroom. Even if we left her alive in here, she might die of thirst before the quarantine's over. If you want to save her or save any of them, we have to get to an exit. We have to make sure somebody knows. Because once the government finds out about our little live stream here, they're going to—"

The pharmacy's office phone began ringing.

22

The phone's trilling beeps seemed piercing in the silent pharmacy. "Find it," hissed Shay, "it'll attract everything in the area." She raced toward the counter. Neil followed her, trotting down the long lines of neatly shelved bottles and boxes. She reached the work station desks and grabbed the phone. "I don't know what you're looking for," she said into the receiver, "But I'm very sorry, this hospital's not going to be able to help you. We've been quarantined. We're trapped. Don't call here, there are things chasing us, they'll hear you." She lay the receiver down beside the phone and they both waited to hear a pounding at the door. What they heard instead was another phone ringing. This one was mounted to the wall beside Neil. He fumbled as he picked it up, brought it to his ear, ready to repeat Shay's explanation.

"Don't hang up. I'm here to help you," is what the woman's voice said.

"Who is this?" asked Neil.

"Harlain Thomas. I'm working with local enforcement on the quarantine. I can help you."

"Great. That's— that's the best news I've heard all day. Is Debbie okay? Our friend climbed out of the courtyard to talk to you. To ask for help. We heard the gunshots and thought she— well. It sounded awful to us. Were you using tranquilizer guns or something? Man, they sound just like the real thing. Well, not that I'd— I mean I've seen them on television but—"

"Son, son, calm down. Who am I speaking to?"

"Uh, oh. Right. My name's Neil Newton. Listen, I've been trying to reach my mom and my daughter. And my friends are trying to reach their kids too, but we can't—"

"Neil. One thing at a time, okay? I can see you're in the pharmacy. And I assume your friend locked that door, is that correct?"

"Cody? Yeah. Yeah, he locked the door. How do you know where we are? And how did you know to call this number?"

Shay squinted at him, confused and alarmed.

"Your friend's video. We've been tracking you for some time. For roughly three hours. We picked up your stream when you were in the cafe. Can you tell me how far Cody's infection has progressed? Some things just don't translate to the video. Has he been biting his nails at all?"

"Wait— if you've been watching us since the cafe— what happened to Debbie? You haven't answered that. Where is she? Is she with you? Can we talk to her?"

"The woman who breached the quarantine?"

Neil rubbed his forehead in frustration. "Yeah. The woman who came out from under the truck. What happened to her?"

"I'm sorry, son. She didn't make it. You have to under—"

"Don't call me 'son'. She only wanted to talk to you. To tell you what's happening in here. You didn't have to kill her."

"The soldiers at the perimeter have been given orders to maintain the quarantine at all costs. They were told to give one warning and then—"

"We weren't trying to break quaran—" Shay slapped a hand over his mouth.

"Shhhh," she hissed.

"We weren't trying to break quarantine," he continued in a whisper when she released him. "We just need help."

"I know, I know so— Neil. And that's what I'm here for, ok? We're going to get you through this, but you need to do a few things for me. Things that'll make it easier to get you what you need. Things I can't do from here."

"Get through it? Why can't you just get us out? We'll go into another quarantine, that's what Debbie was trying to tell you. We just want to be safe. You can put me in a jail cell, I don't care. Just— make sure our families are safe and we aren't going to get attacked, that's it. We'll do whatever you want—"

"Good. Good, Neil. Then the first thing I need you to do is to get Cody to stop broadcasting his recording. Can you do that?"

Neil glanced back down the pharmacy. Cody was still standing near the door, repeatedly scrubbing at something on the countertop with a handkerchief. In his other hand, the phone hung, forgotten.

"Why?" asked Neil suspicious. Shay noted the sharp shift in his tone and tugged his sleeve.

"What?" she mouthed. He just shook his head.

"For one thing, it's starting to cause some concern among the public," said Harlain's voice over the line.

"That was the point. They need to know, so if you guys messed up, if this is out there, they'll know what to expect."

"It's been contained. There's no reason to—"

"Bullshit," said Neil. "I got attacked at a parade three days ago. The guy that did it sure seemed like the sick people in here. Made the same sounds, the same type of movement. Same— insanity. There were thousands of people there. You can't tell me none of them got sick from him. Do you even know how it spreads yet?"

"We have it contained. If, and when, we need to inform the public, there are clear, calm methods of communicating without posting an internet video of a sprint through a hospital. The only thing your recording is doing is sowing confusion and panic. That's not what you want your families to see, is it?"

Neil hesitated. "Look, you want him to stop, I'll grab him, you can ask him yourself—"

"No! No, Neil," said Harlain, "I need you to do it."

"Why?"

"For one, we know he's infected. Our case studies show that causing distress can trigger the transition between prodromal and—"

"Hey, if you wanted someone who could understand that, you shouldn't have shot the only doctor with us."

Harlain sighed. "I just meant making Cody upset could push him into becoming like the people who attacked you, okay? And since it isn't my neck in there, I wanted you to be able to choose when and how you ask him to stop recording. But it needs to be soon. Before things escalate."

"Look, Harlain, is it? I've got some pretty bad wounds. Shay and I are both bitten to heck. We're breaking stitches and we're exhausted. We've seen several corpses. Been attacked by people who want to eat us. There's one outside right now. Maybe more. We've only narrowly missed having to seriously hurt anyone to save ourselves. Things can't escalate too much more, lady. And if it keeps Cody calm to keep doing his— thing, why should I stop him? As you said, it's not your neck on the line."

"Well, there's the fact that if we can narrow down where you're broadcasting from closely enough to call you on the telephone in the room you're standing in, then other people can as well. Or that we know you were trying to head for the maintenance tunnels to escape the quarantine because Cody broadcast that conversation, too. If the general welfare of society doesn't persuade you, maybe that will. I wouldn't continue with that escape plan by the way. You'll find it's just as blocked and guarded as the courtyard exit was."

Neil hung up the phone and swore under his breath.

"What?" whispered Shay. "What was that? Who was that?"

"Someone in charge. Says she wants us to stop broadcasting Cody's video."

"So? We have no reason to listen to them. Not unless they do something to help us. They want the video down, they'll have to get us out."

"Yeah, yeah, that's what I thought first too. But we were so stupid. Scared and stupid and Jesus. Why is all this happening? This isn't supposed to be what happens. Should be sleeping off a double shift at the restaurant while Randi watches those crappy tv Christmas specials all day. Not here. Not fucking terrified like this—"

"Calm down. We'll wait until this person calls back and tell her that's the deal. We keep the video running until she gets us out of here or the phone runs out of juice."

"She'll just let us sit in here and rot then. Get wherever Cody's broadcasting to shut the feed off. And not just that— we broadcast our plan. They know about the maintenance tunnel. Maybe they always did. I don't know. But it doesn't really matter. That plan's not going to work anymore. And anything we do, they're going to know as long as Cody keeps that thing on. Even if they take it down from where he's broadcasting, they'll still be able to see. Hell, probably be able to see even if he doesn't keep the video going."

"I think you might be overreacting," said Shay, touching his elbow. "You have to calm down. If they asked you to turn it off, then they either can't force it or don't want to. Either way, it's a good thing for us."

"Debbie's dead," he said flatly.

"We already knew that. I'm sorry for it. Didn't know her very well, and honestly, I'm pretty numb at this point, but I still have enough— me to feel bad about that. We had to try. And now they know we're here. Us and anyone else still trying to survive. They'll have to send help. Especially because Debbie went out there while people were watching."

"Cold comfort for Debbie. And the people who loved her," said Neil.

"Yeah," Shay admitted, "It really is. And when we're out of this, I'm going to go visit them, tell them what a good person she was when we were with her. That she patched us up even though she was injured, too. That she didn't want to hurt the people who were attacking us because they were just sick. And that she went under that truck because she was trying to keep us from getting more injured. That's not going to be enough either, but it's a start. First, we have to make it out of here so we can tell them, right?"

She's right, he realized. Feel bad all you want, but get home to Randi, that's the goal. Whatever else happens, she's got to be safe. Bargain for it, sacrifice for it, whatever you have to do. "Debbie and this Harlain lady both said we have to avoid stressing Cody out. It'll push him into snapping faster."

Shay snorted a soft laugh. "Well, that's pretty much out the window then. Can't imagine how this gets much more stressful."

"No, you're right. But we can at least not make it any worse. We may have to make some sort of— decision about him soon."

"Not yet," said Shay.

"Not yet. But if we want them to help us or figure out some other way to get out of here on our own, we have to get him to shut off the phone. So— I'm going to lie. I need you to back me up. We're going to convince him this was Debbie's idea. That to get us out, we have to follow this guy's instructions. I don't know what they're going to make us do next. Maybe they'll just have us go back to the cafe. Maybe they'll make us— make a decision about Cody. I don't know how far I'm willing to go. I don't know how we make sure they are who they say. Making this up as I go along until I figure it out. All I know for sure is that shutting off that video feed is at least as beneficial to us as it is to anyone out there at this point. If we don't want people listening in and watching our every move, we don't have a choice. So that's what we're going to do. After that, we'll talk about it. Maybe you answer the phone next, I don't care. But when we're out of this, if it matters, you tell Cody this was all me. You put the whole thing on me."

"Okay. I mean— not about the blaming you part, but about the plan. Okay about the plan. For now."

"Yeah, just for this. Then we figure the next part out."

Neil headed back to the counter, Shay trailing behind him. Cody was no longer scrubbing the counter, instead staring at a display rack of aluminum walking canes.

"Cody?" said Neil softly. Cody didn't move. Neil tried calling his name again. Nothing. Neil came around the edge of the counter and slowly waved a hand over the space in front of Cody. Cody blinked, turned his head to focus on Neil.

"Shorry," he slurred. "Million miles 'way."

"We just need some sleep, man. All of us. Just need some sleep."

"Sure. Should sstay here. Maybe. You think?"

Neil didn't think sleeping anywhere near Cody was a good idea. Or anywhere in the hospital either. But he needed Cody to stay calm. And they were all exhausted. They weren't going to get much farther without rest regardless of how Neil felt. So he said, "Yeah, yeah, I think that's a good idea. There are those nice soft chairs over there. Crash for a while until the government people call back."

"Gov'ment people?"

"That's who was calling. They're going to help us."

Cody nodded, but Neil could see he didn't really understand. "Listen," said Neil, pointing to the phone dangling from Cody's hand. "They think it'd be better if we shut that off."

Cody frowned down at it, confused.

"They know what's going on in here now, Debbie's been filling them in. And they say it's just confusing and scaring people. Making them show up— show up outside. They want to help us, but if they come in, they could get hurt or sick. So maybe— maybe we shut it off for now. Get some sleep, give everyone a chance to calm down and figure this out, hmm?"

"They got Debbie? She ok?"

Neil fought the urge to glance at Shay, to make sure she was playing along. "Yeah, they got her. Treating her right now. She's going to be ok. That's— that's how they knew to call, right?"

"They gonna call our kidsh?" Cody listed slightly to the right and Shay caught him before he could tip too far.

"Think so," she said, "but they want us to shut off the feed first. We're so popular, we're jamming up the servers. If we shut it off, they can reach our families faster. They'll call back when we do."

He frowned down at the phone, obviously doubtful but no longer alert enough to really articulate why. Neil fervently hoped he was right about them all just needing sleep. Cody jabbed at the phone with a finger, missed, tried again. "'Kay. 'Soff. Now what?"

Shay walked over to the door and jiggled the handle to make sure it was locked. "Now we hunker down for a few hours and hopefully they call back. If not, we make a new plan when we get up."

Cody gave a half nod and shambled over to the small waiting area.

"Maybe— maybe one of us should watch," said Neil. "In case."

He watched Shay focus on Cody for a moment. "I think we're okay," she said.

"Should be sure. What if— someone tries to come in? I don't want to be asleep if we find ourselves— with a problem in here. Or if the government people call back. What if they want us to move?"

Shay rubbed her forehead. "Yeah, okay."

"I'll do it," mumbled Cody. He'd pushed two of the padded chairs together, end to end to make a pathetic sort of shelf that he'd never fit on.

"No, I will," said Neil. "You've both had less sleep than me. I'll wake one of you up when I can't keep my eyes open anymore and we can switch."

He caught Shay's attention and she shrugged and then nodded. "Okay. Guess it doesn't much matter. Can't really go anywhere until we figure out which exits they're watching anyway." She watched Cody drape himself awkwardly between the two chairs and opted for the thinly carpeted ground instead. "Think there's a cooler in the corner. Used to come down here for those energy drinks when I needed to work a double," she yawned. "But if you doze off, you're not gonna hear any complaints from me."

"Yeah, that's exactly what I'm worried about. I don't want to wake up dead," Neil muttered, clicking off the pharmacy lights. The cooler was a silvery glow of light behind several aisles and he picked his way quietly toward it.

23

Neil wasn't certain when he'd finally slipped into a doze. He could remember watching the figure in the corridor slowly pace for a long time. It eventually receded out of the line of sight of the pharmacy window and he'd sat down, his back against the door. He told himself it was just in case, though whatever could make it through the locked door wasn't going to find much of a challenge in fighting Neil. Shay snored lightly and Cody thrashed every once in a while, thumping against the hard arms of the chair. He'd twist and then lie still again. The only other sound was the low whoosh of the heated air pushing through the overhead vents and the tick of the clock above the counter. Neil could hear the occasional ding of the automated hospital announcements in the hallway, but it was muffled and distant. He'd thought the floor was too uncomfortable to really be at risk of falling asleep, but the jarring ring of the phone brought him abruptly back to consciousness. He forgot where he was for a moment and stayed paralyzed in confusion as Shay sat up and whispered for him to get the phone. The ringing continued and something thumped against the door behind him. The vibration on his back shook him free and he got up. He stumbled and caught himself on a display rack.

"Oh God," said Shay as she twisted to look at Cody. Neil saw blood, but before he could move, the door banged again. "Get the phone! I'll help him."

Neil nodded and dashed for the phone.

"Sorry to wake you son," the voice was saying as he brought it to his ear.

"Told you not to call me that. Who are you again?" He tried to rub the blear from his eyes.

"Harlain Thomas, remember? About the quarantine."

"Right. Did what you asked. Phone's not broadcasting anymore. You should stop calling here. There are sick people outside. Sound seems to draw them."

"We know. We'll lure them away in a few minutes. I needed to wake you. Your friend's condition is reaching a critical phase. Can't have you sleeping around him."

"Friend? Cody? How do you know? He's been stumbling and slurring since I met him. For all I know, that's how—"

"He's progressed to onychophagia overnight."

"Onych— what?"

"He's biting his fingernails. To the point that he's drawing blood. It's a compulsion this illness seems to cause. After that, it's a rapid slide. He'll continue to bite his fingers until they are protected from his teeth or he finds someone else to bite. Opinions are varied as to whether they feel pain at this point or not."

"Opinions are varied? What on Earth are you people doing out there? And how the fuck do you know he's biting his fingers?"

"We have access to the hospital's security cameras. You didn't expect us to leave you unmonitored, did you?"

"You— how long have you been watching us? The hospital?"

"Since the quarantine was established of course. Protocol."

Neil's stomach felt very heavy, as if he were plunging from a great height. "You knew. All this time, you knew what was happening in here."

"That's not entirely true. The cameras don't cover the entire hospital. We didn't know about the soldier snapping until Dr. Barnes informed us. The conference rooms are unmonitored but we expected to have eyes on the ground in—"

"But you knew about the rest. About the people wandering the halls. About your guys getting overrun in the courtyard. Up in the patient rooms, or at least in the hallways up there."

"Yes, we knew. We were relyin—" Neil slammed the phone down before the woman could finish. It rang again almost immediately and he ignored it, returning to Shay and Cody.

"Stop," Shay told Cody, who had one hand in his mouth, the other caught between Shay's. She'd made almost a mitten of bright gauze around it. His wrist was coated with dried blood. "Stop him," she told Neil.

Neil grabbed Cody's other hand and tried to gently pull it from his mouth, but Cody resisted. The phone was a shrill, constant scream behind them. "Stop, man, you're hurting yourself."

It seemed to take Cody a great effort to open his jaw. His eyes streamed.

"Doesn't that hurt?" asked Neil, reaching for another package of gauze.

"Yes." It was a low groan. "Can't help it. Something'sh wrong. Really wrong."

The thumper was back at the door. The dull thuds were erratic, no real rhythm to them. Something about the syncopation behind the regular wails of the phone deeply disturbed Neil. He couldn't have said why. "Can't help it? What do you mean? Maybe sit on your hands?"

Cody shook his head. Shay finished his first hand and held onto it. "Like an itch that jus' gets worsh. Have to— have to—" he wrenched his hand free of Shay and sobbed even as his teeth closed around the puff of gauze.

"Okay, okay, you can't stop," said Shay. She was sweaty and her breath was rapid. Because she's been trying to hold him back? Or because she's terrified? Neil wondered. He tried to wrap Cody's other hand quickly. Shay stood up. "Going to find you some gloves then. You bite into the gloves if you need to, it'll stop you from hurting your hands. Got to stop that phone, too. Or the ones outside'll break down the door."

"They're just going to keep calling back. They want something. Don't know what. Don't want to know what. You don't either." Neil scrabbled for the gauze tape. Shay stopped for a second.

"What happened?"

"Tell you when I can think again."

A few seconds later the ringing stopped, leaving just the thuds against the door. Neil sighed with relief. Shay returned with a box of rubber gloves.

"I was hoping for something thicker, but— we'll use the whole box if we have to. It'll keep the cuts from getting infected."

"Shorry. Shorry," muttered Cody as they managed to get his hands into the gloves.

"It's okay, it's the disease or whatever. Not yo—" Neil cut off with a hiss as Cody's teeth sank into his arm. "Jesus!" he shrieked, shoving against Cody's forehead to pry him off.

"I'm shorry," cried Cody, releasing him, "I need— I need—" he lunged for Shay and she stumbled backward. Neil yanked on the chair Cody was rising from, toppling him.

"What do we do?" cried Shay, pulling him back away from Cody. But Cody just sat on the floor, chewing at the rubber gloves and sobbing that he was sorry.

Neil shook his head. "Debbie said stress seems to trigger the snap. If we all just calm down—" the thumping abruptly stopped and a growl seeped through the door. He glanced over at it. He could see the shadow of a figure through the window, swaying unevenly. Then a shriek from farther away. Rapid footsteps and the shadow slammed into the door with a roar. "Shit, it got somebody." He ran for the door, but Shay got there first, pushing him away from the handle.

"Wait!" she shouted. Grunts and snarls echoed in the hallway behind the door. "We don't know if they're both sick. Could be risking us for nothing."

"For nothing? They'll kill each other."

"Or they'll kill us. Just think, Neil. What are you going to do when you open up the door? You ready to kill one of em? Or both? You weren't a few hours ago."

"Well, I'm not ready to do nothing and listen to them slaughter each other."

"We've got our own problems in here." Shay waved at Cody who was still on the floor, rocking back and forth. One of the gloves was shredded and Neil could see the gauze underneath turning a soft pink. "You said we need to keep him calm. This— whatever is going on out there, it's not going to help anyone. We aren't going to be able to save anyone. Maybe not even us. We need to stay put. We need whoever this person on the phone is to give us some direction—"

"They aren't on our side!" cried Neil, flinching as the door shuddered where something slammed into it. "They've been watching us the whole time. Before Cody started broadcasting. They saw you being attacked in the gift shop. They saw the courtyard fight. They saw what happened to their own people. And they knew, they knew Debbie was coming out and why. They still killed her. They aren't trying to save us, they—"

"They're calling for something. They want something. Well, so do we. So we stop trusting that they're going to save us and we start trading. Okay?"

"No," snapped Neil. "No, it's not okay. We're never getting out of here Shay. And I don't want to die a murderer." He reached around her for the doorknob. She grabbed his arm.

"Wait. Maybe you're right. Maybe this is it for us. Cody or the people out there or the next squad of police they send in, I don't know. But I don't think for a second that they contained this. Do you?"

"I don't see what that has to do—"

"There's no way that guard should have snapped so fast in the conference room. He'd only been there a few hours. Look at Cody. He's been like this for at least two days now. Longer, I'd imagine, from what Debbie told us about the emergency room. And the parade— you think they grabbed everyone who came in contact over there? Because I don't believe that for a second. Our kids are out there. This woman, this Harlain, she's in charge of something. Somewhere safe. She's not going to let us out of here, Debbie proved that. But if we play our cards right, maybe we can get her to take our families where she is. We do what she wants, she keeps our kids away from all this. You open that door and get us killed, we'll never have the chance. How badly do you want to protect your daughter, Neil?" She said it quickly, all in a rush and her hand clutched tight around his wrist to stop him. He pulled his arm back but didn't reach for the knob again.

"What is it you want to do?" he shouted between the bangs on the door.

"We go back there, hang up the phone, wait for them to call. Then we make a deal."

"What if— what if they want us to kill someone?"

"You need to decide how much you want to save Randi. And you need to decide before that phone rings again."

"That's not really a choice," he said.

"Good. So let's go hang up the phone. And get Cody off the floor at least." She waited for him to back away and kneel beside Cody before she moved from the door frame.

"You're okay, Cody. You're okay, man. I'm going to get you some stuff to calm you down, ok? Maybe it'll stop the— the itchiness for a little bit, let you rest. Will you take something?"

Cody didn't speak, just nodded, his hand still in his mouth. The gauze was soaked with blood and saliva, the rubber glove reduced to curled shreds at his wrist. Neil glanced at the large locked cabinets behind the pharmacy counter. Even if I can figure out how to get into them, I wouldn't know what the hell I was looking for. Best stick with the normal stuff. Might not help as much but it's better than killing him with the wrong sleeping pill. He wished Debbie was with them to help and felt an immediate surge of guilt for only missing her expertise. You didn't know her, he reminded himself, sorting through the sleep aids and analgesics in a nearby aisle. It's sad for her family. Sad that she's gone, and you can appreciate what she did for you, but you didn't know her. Some part of him realized it was shock and he was just rationalizing. It was a distant thing, something for later. If there was a later. Something for a therapist to mull over for a while. Not for here, not when everything was still falling apart.

The phone started ringing again while Neil fumbled with the stubborn blister pack. Shay was somewhere back there, cutting off the shrill tone during its second repetition. "Pack says two," he told Cody. "Think you might need more, but I don't want to give you too much. Not without telling you. How— how many do you want?"

Cody considered a minute. Neil could see his jaw grinding. He held up the gauze encased hand that wasn't in his mouth, pulled his thumb in after a second.

"Four? You sure? That's a double dose."

After a long struggle, Cody pulled the hand from his mouth. "Four. Or all. Maybe all, man. Maybe all."

"No," said Neil, pulling the pills from their plastic nest. "Not all. We're going to find something to treat this. A couple of days. Then it'll all be back to normal. This is just so you don't hurt yourself more."

He placed the pills into the still gloved hand. Cody slapped the hand clumsily across his mouth and Neil heard the immediate crunch of his teeth on the chalky little tablets. He wasn't sure if chewing them would make them work faster or not at all. It didn't matter, there was nothing to be done about it now. Cody held out his hand again. "No," said Neil, opening a bottle of water for him instead, "already gave you too much. We need to see how well this works first."

"Don' wanna hurtchu. Or Shay," said Cody.

"If I think you're going to— we'll handle it, okay? I'll go find another wheelchair or find another bathroom until the government people get here. We don't need to do anything reckless with the pills."

Cody took the water bottle. The water dribbled sloppily down the side of his mouth as he drank. Neil helped him wipe it up with a spare gauze pad. "Shouldn'. Shouldn' get closhe. Get ssick. Take it home."

"I don't think any of us are going home until this is over," Neil admitted, gently pulling the hand Cody tried to stuff back in his mouth. "Let me fix this first. Try not to think about biting. Think about something else. Your family. Tell me about your family. Shay's making a deal with the government people. We're going to ask them to go get our kids, keep them safe. Tell me about yours so we can make them go pick them up too."

Neil could see Cody's other hand twitching and half expected him to just switch which hand he bit, but Cody nodded and tried to talk.

"Three girlsss. Wife. 'S picture in the wallet. Back pocket. You should take the keysh. Might need them after I can't—"

"Don't worry about the keys right now. We're staying put for a while." Neil winced as he pulled gauze from the tacky, indented bites in Cody's skin. "What's your wife's name?"

"Sh— Sylvia. Probly going crazy, now the phone's off. Kids'll be home now. Dance class over hoursh ago. Maya, Helen, Ruby."

"How old are they?"

"Twelve, nine, sheven. They won't— they won't unnerstand." The other hand made it into Cody's mouth and he shuddered with a sob. Neil hugged him awkwardly with one arm, still trying to hold the fresh gauze in place on his other hand.

"They won't have to. We'll get out in a few days, we can explain everything." He went back to wrapping, hoping the sleeping pills would work soon and give Cody some relief. The banging on the door had stopped at least. Neil wasn't sure if it meant whoever was out there had given up and gone away or if they'd been killed.

"Killed shomeone."

Neil was surprised that Cody had managed to control the urge to bite long enough to speak again. Maybe it meant the drugs were starting to kick in. "You defended yourself from someone who was trying to kill you. And Debbie. Your kids may take some time to understand it, but they will. Someday."

"Mark wass a good guy. Never had a bad word."

"He was ill. What happened wasn't his fault. Or yours. It was just— just an accident."

Cody shook his head. "Tried to be a— good pershon. Allm'life. Thish making me evil. Making me hurt you. Maybe I'll kill shomeone elsh. Maybe eat. Like the girl in the courtyard."

"I'm not going to let you, ok? Trust me, Cody, I'm not going to let that happen." Neil finished taping the gauze and reached for a new rubber glove. "Tell me your address, I'll give it to the government people. Then you go to sleep if you can."

Cody shook his head. "What if I'm not me when I wake up?"

"Listen, Cody, if you wake up and you've lost it, I'll put you back to sleep. I promise. I'll keep you asleep until they can fix it. Understand?"

Cody nodded. "Wallet's in my back pocket. Don't think I can get my hand in there. Not with the bandage. You take the keysh. I'll try and shleep." He slumped over on the floor, curling around his bandaged hands. Neil patted his shoulder.

"It's going to be okay. Gonna get your family safe and then we'll figure out what to do from there." He unclipped the jingling keys from Cody's belt and tugged the wallet out of his back pocket. He pulled out one card after another, finally finding the creased remains of an old appointment card that had what he hoped was Cody's address on it. He put the wallet down beside Cody's arm. The man was already asleep and it worried Neil. He'd never fallen asleep that fast with just a sleeping pill. He watched the rise and fall of Cody's chest for a minute, terrified he'd stop breathing. Too many pills, should have stuck with one dose. Should have asked Debbie. Should have gone instead of Debbie. He shook himself and headed for the back. Whatever was going to happen, it was too late to change it now.

24

"You're crazy," Shay said as Neil walked to the back of the pharmacy. She was hunched unevenly over the desk, favoring her wounded side, the phone still pressed to her ear. His own wounds ached, but it was a low burn, somewhere in the back of his mind, buried under the unease and panic of the day. The adrenaline from waking so suddenly was wearing off. So were the slight effects of the pain relievers they'd taken just before sleep. It had barely been enough to take the edge off the pulsing sear in his shoulder, but he knew he'd miss even that much in a little while. Surrounded by medicine and I can't use it, he thought. Even if I could, would I want to? Can't risk being knocked out in here. Even dozing was bad. I could've—

"No. Find someone else to do it. Or wait for your guys to get here. Not us." Shay's angry voice interrupted his train of thought. He caught her eye, but she just frowned. "Because I'm a cook. And I'm with a janitor who's really—" she lowered her voice, "really close to some kind of collapse. And a— what are you again, Neil? Not a soldier or anything anyway."

"Cook, like you," he muttered.

"We're not trained for this and even if we were—" She broke off, straightening her posture. She tried to cross her arms, winced as her hand hit a wound and let go. "We'll talk about it then. You call back in ten minutes." She paused, listened. "You're asking us to risk getting eaten alive, you can give us that long to talk about it, at least," she snapped and hung up the phone. She sagged against the counter again. Neil looked around and found an old stool near the closet. He offered it to her and she dropped onto it.

Shay rubbed her temple, then glanced up at him with a small smile. "Cook, huh? Should have known only another cook would get that worked up about a dish station."

"What is it they want us to do?" he asked.

Her smile dipped, but she ignored his question. "You work in town? Which restaurant? Been thinking about giving up the hospital cafe. The hours are hell. And you'd think it'd be pretty regular, easy even, but the diet needs of five hundred patients is... anyway, been looking for a new place. If you've got a position in the next year or two. You know. Not urgent."

He was confused. "You told them to call back in ten minutes. Shouldn't we be talking about whatever it is they want us to do and whether we're going to do it?"

Shay shrugged. "We'll do it. For our kids. You know we will. I just— needed a breather. For my head. Just ten minutes."

He waited for a moment but she didn't offer anything more. He sighed. "Fine then. I work at Margie's. One of those little pubs in downtown. Not fancy, not fast, just— comfortable. To tell the truth, most of the easy shifts are taken already. Dante and I— Shit." It smacked him, heavy and sudden, the realization that Dante probably hadn't escaped the hospital, only his room. That the friendship that had lasted longer even than his marriage was probably over. At least for a while. Dante was either sick and insane or... or it was already too late for him. It was hard to breathe around the thought. Shay leaned forward to touch his arm, concerned. "Yeah," he managed, "There might be an opening. Ask me when this is over."

"What is it?" asked Shay, "I mean— apart from everything."

"You remember I told you I came here with a friend? Dante. He works with me. Has for decades. We went to the parade together. Dante's more than just, you know, a friend from work. We practically raised our kids together. When I escaped my room, I went to check on him, first thing. He wasn't in his."

Shay nodded. "I'm sorry."

"Yeah, me too," Neil rasped. "Maybe he's just— hiding."

"Sure. It's a big place. Almost empty, even if it didn't seem it down here. The ground floor had a lot more people than the patient rooms. He could be upstairs. There are even kitchens and things up there, everything he'd need to hole up and wait it out."

Neil wanted to believe it, but the memory of the nurse in Dante's bathroom kept returning. If he's still okay, he's trying to reach Graziella and Tommy. And me. "He's got a son, too. We should tell Harlain, when she calls back."

"Yes. We're going to drive as hard a bargain for this idiocy as we can, Neil."

He handed her the card he'd taken from Cody's wallet. "That one's Cody's family. I've got Dante's information when we need it." Again, the weight of dread and anticipated grief made it difficult to keep himself together. Have to think about something else. "Want to tell me what 'this idiocy' actually is now?"

"They want us to unlock the patient room doors. They were locked at the beginning of the quarantine. For security, so sick people didn't wander out of their rooms and infect the rest of us. But this went way worse and took a lot longer than anyone expected. Debbie was right. There are people starving upstairs. That Harlain lady, she can see some of the patients have posted signs asking for help on their windows, and government or whoever they are have cameras or access to cameras— everywhere. There's an emergency override. In case there's a fire or something. It's in the security office. Release them all at once. But the government can't do anything about it, not from where they are. They can watch but they don't have a way to intervene."

"They could if they sent us help."

"Yeah. But they aren't. Not now."

"But they promised they were going to help us, to get us out of here," said Neil.

"Did they?" asked Shay. "Or did we just assume they would? She didn't say anything like that to me."

Neil rubbed his cheek. "I honestly don't know," he said after a moment, "Everything is blurring together like a bad dream. Even the terrifying parts."

"Think. You agreed to turn off the cell phone video— I know you said it was partly so they wouldn't know everything we were planning, but it couldn't have only been that."

"She said— she said she could help us. That she'd get us through it. But not 'out'. She never said out."

"Shit," sighed Shay.

"Sorry."

Shay shook her head. "Nothing to be sorry for. We still made the right decision about the phone. They may be able to watch us with the hospital cameras but they can't hear us anymore. And who knows? Maybe this lady can help us."

"But if she's not going to get us out, why does she want us to open up the patient room doors? The patients will be in more danger then. Won't even know what's waiting for them outside their door."

"I think— I think she just doesn't want to watch them starve anymore. I don't think she's— I don't think they're doing this on purpose, whatever is going on. I think maybe she's actually the person watching the videos. Nothing more than that. She didn't say a rank or a position or anything. I'm not even sure she's supposed to be calling us. She sounded— inexperienced, Neil. Like she wasn't quite sure what was supposed to be happening. And a little scared."

"But—"

The phone rang. This time Neil picked it up. Shay pressed a red button on the bottom of the phone panel and Ms. Thomas's voice poured out into the pharmacy.

25

"Hello?"

"Shhh!" said Neil.

"It's okay. The ones outside the door are gone," Shay reassured him, "Nothing in here's loud enough to call more, I don't think. Except maybe the fire alarm. You're on the speakerphone."

"Then you can both hear. That's good. Have you given my proposal any thought?"

"Why do you want us to do this? The people we let loose are just going to get attacked. They have no idea what's going on outside their room."

"You can warn them," said Harlain, "The layout says the controls for the PA system are in the security office. Same place as the emergency override for the hospital."

"You didn't answer the question. Why do you want us to do this? There's an entire wing between us and the security office. We have no weapons—"

"Or the will to kill anyone," interrupted Neil.

"— and we're injured and on our own. You've got an entire military. People trained to do this stuff. You want to save these people, save us, send in another squad. Help us."

There was a long silence from the other end of the line.

"Hello?" asked Neil, worried Harlain had hung up.

"Look— I— I'm not in charge. I can help you, but I don't get to make the decision about sending more soldiers in. I'm going to make sure your path is clear. Or at least as clear as I can make it from here. People are dying. I'm watching it on these screens. Sometimes it's— bad. Really bad. Bloody. Scary. But then it's over. The people in the rooms though— some of them are sick and already insane. They aren't going to understand the door's unlocked. I've watched lots of the loose ones. There's something— gone in them. More than just their self-control. Something else. They can open the door, sure. They can twist the handle. A few have tried. But it seems almost— chance that they try. They almost don't seem to think about trying until something attracts them to the door. They definitely don't understand verbal communications. So you can use the PA system to warn anyone who's well—"

"How do you know that? How do you know they don't understand what we're saying?" broke in Shay.

"Look— things aren't..." Harlain lowered her voice. "Things aren't great out here. Your hospital isn't the only quarantine. We've got it under control and we're only starting to understand what's happening but we aren't as— lost as a few days ago. There are things the infected have in common. They start with a loss of fine motor control and speech impairment. It progresses to biting their own nails until their fingers are bloody. Then they go into a rage and so far— never come out. Once they reach that point, they're beyond reacting to verbal command. Who knows, maybe they do understand, maybe they just don't care. Even if it's in their own immediate interest, they don't react the way they should. I know that much, ok? I can't tell you more about how. But they're not going to come running out of the doors when you unlock them. Won't even realize that you have unless they happen to try it by chance. So you tell everyone who can still understand that you're unlocking the doors and that you'll meet them in the cafe. Then you can lay low together until this thing gets worked out. You'll have food and water. Numbers in case you're attacked—"

"The people who have already snapped might not get out of their rooms for a while, but there are definitely some who are infected who will. We don't know how long it takes for them to start showing they're sick. Do you?"

"Not entirely," admitted Harlain. "We know from the point they start being symptomatic— slurring, tripping, to the point they go into a frenzy is anywhere from several hours to a few days. Emotional triggers seem to worsen it. But how long that phase starts from when they're infected... no. We don't know that yet."

"So you're asking us to save people who might be walking time bombs. Understandable, but you were worried about us sleeping next to one infected person. The cafe's not that big. When they finally lose it, you want them mixed in with us?" asked Neil.

"Is it any worse than what you've been doing this far? You're friend's only an hour or two from snapping. Maybe you didn't know it would be that soon, but you knew it would happen. You haven't sent him away. And now you know what to watch for. You'll be ready for the next one."

"That doesn't make it any easier to decide what to do about it. You want us to have to keep making these decisions? Why should we? These people are safe in their rooms. And we're safe from them. Why should we let them out? What good is it going to do? We don't even know how many there are or if they can walk. What if we open the doors and someone with a broken leg can't make it? There are still sick people in the hallways."

"They're all starving. Some of them who can't move very well are dying of thirst because they can't reach their sinks easily. But if you tell them where to go, a lot of them would take the chance. I'll do my best to draw the loose infected away, but some of them will be attacked, yes. It's better than starving. It takes a long time to starve. It hurts."

"So does getting eaten alive," said Shay.

"But then it's over. Starving takes weeks."

"Still better to be in pain for weeks and have a chance of surviving than rush out and get killed when you might be rescued in a day or two," said Neil.

Again the silence on the other end of the phone line.

"You aren't coming. Not today, not tomorrow, not for long enough that you're worried some of these people won't make it," realized Shay.

"I— don't know the future. But standard quarantine is twenty-one days. After the last exposure. No one knows if these people will recover or if it will prove fatal, but there won't be any more soldiers sent in until after all signs of the disease are gone. You're contained. And as long as you aren't a threat to the exterior population, there's no reason to risk more infection. I'm— I'm not the one in charge, you understand? Shouldn't even be doing this much. But I can't sit here and watch people slowly die anymore. I can't do everything from here, but I will do what I can."

"So why'd you tell us to shut off the cell phone then? If the decision's already been made, what did it matter? Just to save face so people outside don't know what's happening? If we survive, people are going to know any—"

"I told you to shut it off for me, Neil. For my sanity. I have to watch through the hospital cameras but listening too— that was worse."

"You took away our one bargaining chip because you didn't feel like listening?" cried Shay.

"It wasn't a bargaining chip," sighed Harlain. "The feed was found within ten minutes, probably less and it was taken down. I was the only one who could see it. Well, me and my superiors. Can't ever tell whether they're watching or not. Which is another reason I asked you to shut it off. So I could help you."

"No," said Neil, "Cody showed me. Thousands of people were watching when we were in the courtyard."

"They weren't. It was easy to make you think they were. You'd be amazed what the guys in tech can do. That feed was valuable to the people above me. You went to all sorts of places where we had no coverage. Plus the audio. My bosses thought it best you be encouraged to keep the video active and showing you large numbers of viewers seemed to be the best way of keeping you filming. If they knew I'd asked you to shut it off, I'd be in serious jeopardy. But I just couldn't take any more of it."

"Why would your superiors care if you were helping us? Isn't that your job, to help us? What kind of cruel—"

"It's part of my job to make sure you don't breach the containment. Any of you. It's a big hospital. A lot of screens and a lot of people wandering the halls. Some are sick and some are still sane enough to try to get out on purpose. They wouldn't mind me helping, except that it means I'm not glued to the other screens. I only have a little time. Going to go off shift in less than an hour, so we need to do this now, or else wait until tomorrow."

"We haven't decided whether we're helping you yet," said Shay. "Why should we? You keep saying you'll help however you can, but so far you haven't done anything for us."

"You're not helping me," said Harlain. "You'd be helping the people starving around you. You've been careful with the sick people you found. You could have hurt them. Killed them. Other people in the hospital have. I've watched them. Other people had to. You're risking your necks keeping Cody with you. I just thought you might want to save the people who had a chance of surviving this."

"If you cared about saving people, why didn't you warn us earlier? Before Debbie climbed under that truck?" asked Neil.

"I didn't know you were going to do that. The only cameras in the courtyard are at the doors. And I knew the side entrance was barricaded. I thought you'd find the barrier and just keep going to the maintenance tunnel. When I realized you were talking about going over, I tried to call you in the other wing, to talk to you, but it only drew the infected and they started— they started massacring each other. I had to wait until you were somewhere safe. And hope you didn't do something stupid like climb under a truck."

"Then why didn't you call your people and tell them not to shoot? Why didn't you warn them that we weren't sick?"

"I told you," said Harlain, "I'm not in charge. I don't give orders or suggestions or anything else. The soldiers outside have been given clear directives. None of us know if you are infected. Not even you. Our only chance at stopping whatever this is, is containment. Until we figure out what this is and develop some kind of test, we can't know. We don't know how it spreads, we don't know how long it takes to incubate, we don't know how to cure it. Not yet. So you have to stay put. If you try to break quarantine, the soldiers will do what they have to. For what it's worth, I'm sorry about your friend. The quarantine should have been— more clearly delineated. It shouldn't have gotten this far. If I could show you what's already happened out here— I'm not your ticket out. Not before the quarantine gets lifted. I'm just trying to make sure as many of you survive as possible."

"You still haven't told us what you're going to do to help us," said Shay. "If you're not going to get us out, doesn't matter what we do to save these people, we'll all starve before anyone gets here. Cafe's stocked, but not for the amount of time you're talking. Not for how many people are likely still here. The guards the other night said the headcount was a hundred thirty-four. That wasn't including the guards. A week, sure, I could comfortably feed that many. Could stretch it to two pretty easy. But you said twenty-one days after the last infection. We don't even know when that'll happen. We know it's not today."

"A lot of those people are already dead. Some are infected. I counted about thirty including you and the lady you left in the cafe still sane enough to have a shot. There are definitely more in the patient rooms that I can't see unless they come look out their doors, but not a hundred. Not even close. And they'll drop supplies in the courtyard at some point. They aren't going to risk people, but a helicopter drop they can do. You stand a better chance together than apart. It's in your own best interest to help these people if you won't do it just to be decent. I don't know what else you want."

"We want our families to be safe," said Neil quickly. "You're somewhere safe, some secure military post somewhere. You go get our kids and our spouses and bring them there. That way if this thing isn't as contained as you seem to think, they'll be safe far away from it. Do that, and we'll talk about going to the security office and doing what you want."

"You aren't listening," said Harlain, "I don't have that type of control over the situation. I'm just a— a glorified security guard. I sit here and watch video screens. Mark down visible symptoms so we can have some idea of how this disease works. Keep track of where people are. Report back. That's it. I can't get clearance for your kids."

"You don't have clearance for this, either, but it didn't stop you. Bring them to your house on your base or something. Say they're nieces and nephews, anyth—"

"You don't understand. Your kids, your spouses, your coworkers, people for five blocks around your float at that parade, anyone who might have had contact with you, they're in quarantine too. There's no way for me to get them out of their facilities. Best I can do is track down which ones they are in and— and maybe get them on the phone for you. Maybe. Gonna have to call in a truckload of favors just to do that much—"

"Our kids, our babies are in places like this?" cried Shay. "You left them to be attacked—"

"No, Shay. You got it worst. Your hospital was— it was panic. Bad planning or no planning, I admit that. They didn't know what was about to happen. Those who had symptoms should have been isolated, but since we didn't understand what the symptoms were yet, it didn't happen that way. It's different now. Your families were in the second or third wave of quarantines. They'll be separated in different cells with plenty of guards. If they get sick, they won't have a chance to attack each other."

"Unless the guards get sick," said Shay. She started crying, frantically wiping at her eyes.

No response from Harlain.

"You get those favors done then. You connect us. I want to hear Randi's voice. My mom. Shay's kids, Cody's kids. My friend Dante's kid and his wife. You get them on the phone or we're not moving."

"I can't prom—"

"It's not negotiable," said Neil and hung up. He put an arm around Shay, careful not to squeeze her wounds. "We're getting out," he told her. "And then we're going to find them. And this lady's going to help whether she means to or not."

"How?" sniffed Shay. "The maintenance tunnels were our best bet."

"They still are. There are a lot of exits to the hospital. If they've got quarantines set up all over the city, there's no way they have enough guys to really cover them all. Not the way they should be. Even that video outside the hospital, sure there were some soldiers there but nowhere near enough to keep the crowd out and us in."

"It's been a while since we were able to see outside. Or even turned on a television. The situation could have changed, Neil. Or might still."

"That's why we need to move fast. We're going to let the people out of their rooms, just like Harlain wants. Give them an hour to make it to the cafe. Then we're going to make a distraction on one end of the hospital. What's the farthest exit from the parking garage?"

Shay thought a moment, grabbed a tissue from a large box nearby. "Physical Therapy, I think. But I'm not positive. I just know it takes forever to walk from the garage to the therapy pool."

"Good enough. That's where we do it then."

"Do what?"

"Set off all the alarms and phones and radios or televisions possible. Draw as many infected as possible to the pool exit. We smash through one window. The soldiers will call their friends to help—"

"While whoever's in the pool gets chomped? Or shot by the soldiers? It's a suicide run."

"Yeah," admitted Neil.

"And as shitty as it is, the soldiers aren't the bad guys. They're protecting the world outside. We aren't talking about just getting you and me out now. That was bad enough, but you and I aren't sick. If we purposely let the infected people out— we're risking more than our own kids."

"We'll make sure it's a choke point before we set off the alarms. If they even wander out there. Most of them will probably attack each other. We'll only make the hole big enough for one or two to get out at a time. It'll scare the soldiers, but not overwhelm them."

Shay shook her head. "Even if I thought this was somehow— okay, we'd still be using these people as cannon fodder so we could escape. You keep telling me they're people, Neil, just sick."

"You heard Harlain. Nobody's coming until the quarantine is over. Do you think we're going to feed the people who don't make it to the cafe? We're just going to roll the lunch carts up and down the halls every day and toss food to the sick people? It's not going to happen. They'll starve just as well as the healthy people locked up in those rooms would."

"What if they find a cure in the next few days? How are you going to feel then?"

"Don't know much about medicine, Shay, but I don't think they find treatments that fast. These people are going to die. And unless we find our kids soon, they might, too. They don't have this contained or under control, whatever Harlain says. If they did, she'd have told us how it was spreading. She'd have warned us how to avoid getting sick. Their only solution is to lock us all up. Maybe that'll work. Maybe not. We can find one of those suits. Those plastic ones they use in the movies. Got to be one here somewhere. There are masks and gloves right in this room. We can protect the world from us. But we can't protect our families from here. You said you'd do anything. If you've got a better idea, you let me know."

She didn't answer.

"Going to check on Cody," he said and headed for the front of the pharmacy. Halfway down the short aisle of medicine shelves, he stumbled, crashing into the rack on his left. Large bottles of pills rattled and tumbled over him, thumping onto the carpet.

"You ok?" Shay said, springing up to help him. Neil looked around for what he'd tripped over.

"Yeah," he said slowly, picking up a few of the bottles. He looked blankly at the jumbled shelf in front of him, trying to guess where they went. He supposed it didn't matter much. "Just— tired I guess."

Shay helped him replace the bottles. "Lie down then. I'm awake. You didn't get much sleep, but Cody's going to be out a good few hours after the sleeping pills. Can't really move until he wakes up anyway. And we've got to wait for Harlain to find our families. I'll watch."

Neil was too confused and exhausted to argue much. He checked Cody to make sure the man was still breathing easily and then lay down across the doorway and fell quickly asleep.

26

After hours of waiting, mostly spent in a strange cycle of dozing and obsessively checking on Cody's breathing pattern, the phone finally rang again. Shay got it the first time. Neil had hurried back, tripping again and thudding painfully into the pharmacy counter before he could hear the tearful tone of her voice and realized the conversation was personal, something for her alone. He returned to his spot near the door instead, rubbing the new bruise growing on his hip. When it rang again, he was surprised to see Shay coming to the front. Her eyes were still red.

"They found your daughter, she'd like to talk to you," she said. Neil hauled himself up, banging his shoulder on the doorknob. He groaned and froze for a moment in pain. Shay hurried over. "It's okay, take your time. They aren't going to let her hang up. Lot of trouble to get her on the phone. My babies too."

He tried to believe his clumsiness was from moving too quickly, tried to brush it off as she had, but doubt lingered in the back of his mind. He ignored it, too eager to hear Randi's voice to dwell on it. It was Harlain's voice he heard first, though.

"We've contacted your daughter's mother. She'll be here to collect her from quarantine in case— in case you aren't. I thought you'd want to know," she told Neil.

"Thank you. But my mom should be with her, they'll be okay together."

"I'm so sorry," said Harlain. "Your mother is infected."

It took an extra second to understand what Harlain had said. "No, no there's been a mistake. Maybe you got the wrong lady, mix up in your paperwork or something."

"She was still coherent when she arrived at the facility yesterday. We were able to verify her identity."

"But she wasn't at the parade at all. I didn't have any contact with her, not for almost a week. We were supposed to go to her house for dinner but we never—"

"She had contact with your daughter, Neil," Harlain reminded him.

"Does that mean— is Randi sick?"

"She's not symptomatic. But that doesn't mean she's not contagious. Just like you. You may not be symptomatic but you could still be spreading this. That's why the quarantine is so important. I really must repeat my warning not to try and break—"

"We agreed to do what you wanted if you got us in contact with our families, didn't we?"

"And it has taken a lot to hold up my end of the deal. I'm not entirely certain I'll still have a job after this, Neil."

"Not so sure I will either, but for what it's worth, sorry about that."

"I just want to make sure you're going to follow through," said Harlain.

Neil sighed. "Look, we weren't going to just let them starve anyway. You want us to do a decent thing. We wanted you to do a decent thing. I don't know you, but greaseballs don't call someone up to ask them to save strangers they'll likely never meet. You probably would have found our families if we'd just asked. And we would have gone to the security office even if you hadn't called back. Can I talk to my daughter now?"

"Of course. Just hang on a minute while I connect you."

A soft breathy hum came through the line a few seconds later. She always did that, when she was waiting for something. He tried to recognize the song, felt like it was vital somehow, like he needed to remember this, every second. But the tune escaped him. "Randi?" he asked.

"Dad! Where are you?" He could feel the real question down to his core. Why aren't you here? That's what she really meant.

He struggled to keep his voice calm and even. "Still at the— still at the doctor's, Bunnypop. Where are you?"

"The library. The one at the big school, remember? Where we saw the puppet show. They have funny little rooms behind the books. Some people brought me a sleeping bag and a flashlight. It's like camping indoors. Except they won't let me share a room with Grandma and they keep taking my temperature. Got shots too. Mom always holds my hand when I get shots. I asked them to let Grandma, but they said she couldn't. Tommy's the only other person I know here, but they said we had to stay apart, too."

He ached for the fear in her voice and tried to think of something calming to tell her. Something that wasn't an utter lie. "I know, baby, it's because Grandma's sick. They don't want you or Tommy to get sick, too. Did they call Mom for you?"

"Yeah. She's going to pick me up in a few days, she says."

Neil doubted she'd be allowed to. "Listen, Randi— is anyone there acting funny? Maybe tripping a lot? Or kind of mumbling so you can't understand them?"

"No. I only see the doctors and Miriam though."

"If you see anything like that— you keep the door to your room closed and hide, okay? Hide until Mom or I come. The people who are clumsy are sick. They don't know what they're doing. They'll hurt people. You understand?"

"Is that what's wrong with Grandma?"

"Yeah, baby," Neil's voice cracked despite himself. "If you see Grandma, you hide. Hide and don't look."

"She won't hurt me, Dad."

He sobbed into the crook of his arm, trying to smother it. After a moment, he recovered enough to speak again. "I don't think she'll know it's you, honey. She's so sick. It's like she's having a nightmare. If she knew it was you, she'd never hurt you. But she's having a bad dream. Walking around in her sleep. She'll hurt you without knowing it. So you hide, ok?"

"Okay," said Randi after a long pause. "Dad, I want to come home, now."

"I know you do. Me too. A few days, then Mom will be there, right?"

"What about you? When are you coming home?"

"As soon as I can. You'll probably get there first, but I'll be home soon. Just need to do what the doctors tell me for a little longer, ok?"

Randi was silent for a few seconds. "Daddy," she said at last, "Are you sick?" She hadn't called him "Daddy" in almost five years, lost the last syllable somewhere in the rapid evaporation of toddlerhood, and using it now startled him.

"I'm not sick. But they want to make sure I don't get sick. Or make anyone else sick."

"What's going to happen if you get sick? What's going to happen to Grandma?" He could hear the panic rising in her voice, pitching it slightly higher. He knew the stricken look that would be on her small face. Stay calm, he urged himself.

"They'll find medicine for Grandma. Make it so she wakes up from the bad dream. But it's going to take a little bit because it's a new sickness. They're working very hard to make the medicine, Randi. So you just— just stay away from her until they give it to her. You don't want to scare her, right? Her bad dream will make her think you're something scary."

"Okay." It came out small and soft. "What if I get sick, Daddy? Are you going to leave me here? Miriam is nice, but— I want to go home."

"I'll never leave you there, Randi. Mom's coming. And even if you got sick, I'd bring you medicine. I'll be there as soon as I can. I promise. And until then, I'll call you, okay? Who's taking care of you?"

"Miriam."

"I'll talk to Miriam after I'm done talking with you. I have to— they're changing my room. Going to a nicer one. I'll call you when I get there, okay?"

"Don't go, Daddy," she pleaded.

"It's only for a little while, Bunnypop. Just until I get to my new room," he said. The helplessness felt physically draining. What am I supposed to say? What am I supposed to do? "We'll have lots of time to talk after that. You can read me a story, hmm? I'm jealous, you've got lots of books at the library. Nothing but old magazines here. Find me a good story, ok? Ask Miriam."

"Okay," said Randi, but Neil could hear her reluctance. Don't drag it out, he told himself. It'll only make it harder for her.

"You remember what I told you, sweetheart. You see anyone acting funny, bumping into things or tripping or— or biting their nails too far, you hide. Even if it's someone you know. Even if it's Grandma or Tommy. Hide and don't watch. I want you to think of a good hiding place. Maybe the puppet show booth. You remember where that is?"

"Yes, Daddy. I remember."

"Good, that's good. You hide and don't come out until there's no one around that's acting funny. You understand?"

"Like the drills we do at school?"

"Yeah, Randi, just like that. Hide and stay quiet. I'll be there before you know it."

"Miriam's here now," she said. He could hear her breath breaking in short gasps and knew she was crying.

"Okay, gonna talk to her now, so I can call you later. I love you, Randi."

"Don't go," she pleaded again.

"Got to, baby. I have to move to the new room, remember? I'll call you soon. You won't even be through your next storybook, you'll see."

"Love you, Daddy." Her sob diminished and he could hear someone else speaking to her.

"I love you, too, Randi," he said it quickly, almost shouted it into the receiver, trying to push it through like she might forget or she might not know if he didn't say it, if she didn't hear it.

"Hello?" asked a woman's voice, "Is this Mr. Newton?" He couldn't help but resent the woman.

Neil wiped his eyes and cleared his throat. "Yes, that's me. I'm Randi's father. I wanted to talk to the person caring for her."

"I'm in charge of her wing, sir. My name's Miriam Chase."

"Good. Thank you, Ms. Chase. Where are you keeping my daughter?"

"Oh, uh we're at Swem Library on the—"

"I know where it is. She says you're keeping her in one of the study carrels with a sleeping bag."

"Yes, that's correct. It's a temporary arrangement. We have cots being delivered this afternoon and—"

"A cot's not going to protect her. How are you keeping the sick separated from her so they can't attack? Where's she going to the bathroom? What's she eating? When will she be released to her mother? How are—"

"Slow down, Mr. Newton. What are you talking about, attack? If one of our charges starts becoming symptomatic, they are transferred to the university hospital, that's why we've established the quarantine here, the proximity makes it ideal. All of Randi's needs are being met. We have an excellent nutritionist and there are ample bathroom facilities for our current population. She's checked on every fifteen minutes, if she needs to use the restroom, she's able to do so when we make those rounds."

"And hygiene? There are no showers at the library."

"We will have portable showers set up at the end of this week, if necessary. We don't anticipate holding anyone that long, however. Your daughter should be released in a day or two as long as her blood tests remain clear."

"You get that from whoever's in charge? Or is that just what you heard around the quarantine water cooler?" Neil snapped.

"There's no reason to get hostile si—"

"Because you know where I am? Do you know why I'm not there with Randi or over in your hospital with my mother? I'm at Wing Memorial. I'm locked in here with a bunch of sick people who are trying to kill us. They tell you what happens after people get 'symptomatic'? Bet they didn't. Bet they also didn't tell you that the quarantine's got to go twenty-one days from exposure. Unless there's some different type of rule for you, Randi's not leaving there anytime soon. Maybe you should ask your superiors. Ask them about what happens if one of the sick people get left too long. Ask them what you're being exposed to—"

"Mr. Newton, please calm down. I'm here to help Randi."

Neil took a deep gulp of air. She was right. There was no reason to antagonize her. "I'm sorry. You're right, of course. Not your fault. But you need to know. For Randi's sake and anyone else in that place. Yours too. The people who get sick with— whatever this is— it starts slow. They get clumsy first. Tripping or bumping into things. Start slurring. Kind of sounds like they've had a stroke. Or like maybe they've had a little bit too much to drink. It takes them time to think of what they're trying to say. Sometimes they just sort of— tune out. Like there's nothing going on in there. A doctor told me they start getting irritated with small things. Get angrier and angrier. I haven't seen that part yet, but I believe her. They want to bite things. A friend who's with me has started biting his nails. Bit em right to the nub and kept going. His hands are all bloody. He's still trying to bite them through the bandages—"

"Look, Mr. Newton, I'm sure you've been through a lot but—"

"Wait. I'm trying to help you. And trying to help my daughter, so listen. I don't know if there's a step between the finger biting and the end result, I'm sure I'll see soon. But I know what happens in the end stage of this. The sick person goes into a rage. Kind of anger you see in people who are high as a kite on something bad or who just have some kind of— of mental snap. Just homicidal. The same doctor said she thought it looked like cath— catha something. Those bath salts things, even though it's not. They attack everything. One guy attacked a vending machine. Plenty more attacked other people, me too. Doesn't matter what you say to them, doesn't seem to matter whether they know you or not. They try to bite and then they— they eat you. If you aren't ready— I saw two take down an armed policeman in about thirty seconds. One almost killed me in five. A little girl like Randi's not going to be able to escape them. Does that study carrell have a lock on it?"

"Y—yes, sir, but not from the outside. She's not really locked in there."

"Best of both worlds. You make sure she locks it between rounds. That way, if you aren't there, she's not just a ready meal for someone you missed."

"We won't miss anyone, that's part of why we make the fifteen-minute checks."

"I'm not questioning how you do your job. Randi says you've been kind and you seem to be interacting with her a lot. I'm very grateful to you. But you haven't seen how fast this stuff can change. I'm trying to help you learn what to watch for, and I'm sure they've listed out the symptoms but it's easy to brush them off or to hide them until it's too late. You need to be ready. What if you've been exposed? What if you get sick? Is her room close to an exit?"

"Well— yes but she can't—"

"Show her where it is. Next time you take her to the bathroom, show her where it is. Show her the quickest path and where to hide on her way to it."

"I can't do that! Everyone here is in isolation, they must stay here until cleared for the public—"

"She's nine, Ms. Chase. Even if she made it to the door, she wouldn't know what to do or where to go. She's not going to make an escape. Not unless she really has to. Maybe—" He sucked in a shaky breath. "Maybe not even then. You tell her it's like a fire drill. If there's an emergency, if someone sick gets loose, that's where she goes—"

"There—" Miriam lowered her voice to a whisper. "There are soldiers outside, Mr. Newton. They're under orders— I don't— it's not up to me but—"

"I know. That's how the doctor I was with got killed. That's why you tell her only for an absolute emergency. I've been bitten. The people I'm with have been, too. I know how badly it hurts. If something's going to— if something's going to kill her—" He took the phone away from his ear and sobbed.

"It's ok, Mr. Newton, it's okay." Miriam's voice was distant but clear.

"It's not okay," he managed. "Nothing's okay. I need you to help her. I know there are other people there that need you. Other kids maybe. But she's all alone. I'm not there. I would be if I could. Even if it meant exposure, I'd still come. Her grandmother's sick, hopefully, you moved her to the hospital. Her mother is on the way, but she's not there yet. For the next several hours, you're the only one she can rely on. You're the only one I can rely on. Your people want me to stay put. Stop trying to find a way out of my own quarantine. Randi's the only reason I want to keep trying. If I can believe she'll be safe with you, then I can hunker down and wait this out like you all want. We don't have fifteen-minute checks by friendly guards. Or state of the art nutritionists. There are bodies lying in the hallways. There are people ready to kill us all over the hospital. But I'll still find a way to hide and wait it out if you can persuade me she's going to be okay. You have kids Ms. Chase?"

"N—no sir." She sounded teary. Neil was glad she seemed shaken.

"Younger siblings?" he pressed.

"Only older."

"Your older sibling ever get hurt? Get bullied? You ever want to protect them so badly you physically ached?"

"I— I know the feeling you're talking about, sir. Yes."

"She's a good kid. She wants to be a scientist. She always looks for people to help. She'll be a decent per—"

"You don't have to tell me all this. I'll take care of her," said Miriam.

"If I don't tell you, you'll take care of her because it's your job. You'll take care of her like it's your job, too. Even the best workers have off days. Go on a few more breaks than they should. Leave a task for later because they're tired. Cut corners to save time. But if you know her, if you know that she likes books about ragdoll cats and that she's scared of moths because of the way they bump into lights, if you know that she hums when she's waiting and she cries when she sees a panhandler, maybe she'll be more than a task to you. I'm not sure how to make you really know her except to tell you these things about her. I need you to see her as more than a job. I need you to care. Because I can't be there to do it instead."

"I understand, Mr. Newton. Randi's safe here. I'll keep her safe until her mother or you are able to come and get her. It— I heard things went wrong at Wing. I'm sorry. We've learned. We're prepared here. I don't— I don't know how things are going to turn out for you. Or for Randi's grandmother. But for Randi, things are going to turn out ok. She's going to be ok." She paused for a second, and then her tone shifted, more clipped, more formal, and he knew she'd stepped into someone else's range of hearing. "I need to let you go, Mr. Newton. I'm late for this round of checks. Randi informed me you wish to call again. Do you have something to write with? I will give you a suitable phone number to reach us."

"There's a boy," Neil said quickly, "His name's Tommy Owens. I'm here with his father. Is he safe? Is he with Randi?"

"We have a Tom Owens. And his mother. Do you want me to find him before I let you go? I could pick up the phone on my way back through if his father wants to talk—"

"No. No, his father isn't— he's gone. Somewhere in the halls. I needed to make sure Tommy was okay. For him."

"I— see. Tom is here. With his mother. They haven't been transferred. I can let you speak with them if—"

"I— I'm not certain what to say to them. I just— I wanted to make sure— they're like my family. But I don't know what to tell them. I don't know what happened to Dante—"

"Mr. Newton," Miriam said gently, "They have enough to worry about here. If you had good news, it might help them be patient. But no news or bad news— whatever has happened to your friend, good or bad— his son can't change it. His wife can't help him. They're safe. And together, as of the last rounds. I— won't tell them that you called. If you've found your friend the next time we speak, then that's a different story."

"Yes," he agreed, "Yes, that's probably best."

27

Neil was sorry they'd roused Cody. It had taken several minutes and they'd argued over it for a few more before starting. Shay had tried to warn his wife over the phone, had tried to gently explain what was happening to Cody. But when Cody's wife asked to speak to him, neither one of them could bring themselves to refuse her.

"Your wife, your daughters, Cody," Neil said, shaking his shoulder for the fifth time. "Come on, sit up at least. It'll help."

Cody managed to blink blearily at him. It was an improvement, anyway. His eyes were opened, even unfocused as they were.

"Don't you want to talk to them?"

Cody sat up with a groan and his back slumped against Neil's legs as if he might change his mind.

"No," he mumbled at last. "Shouldn' talk to 'em 'ike thish. S— sscare 'em."

"You don't think they're scared already? They don't even know for sure that you're alive. They need to hear your voice."

It took Cody several seconds to speak again. "Not e'en sure whatta shay. All ssounds bad."

Neil knelt to get his good shoulder under Cody's arm. "Tell them you love them," he offered, hauling Cody to his feet. They swayed unsteadily for an instant and then Cody stabilized. Neil let him go. "It's what they want to hear. Besides, there's no 's' sound in that."

Cody was already stumbling around the corner by the time he laughed. "No ssssses," he said, laughing again. "Like that." His bandaged hand drifted up toward his mouth and Neil had to catch him as he careened sideways into a shelf. He stopped laughing. Shay turned a chair toward him and held out the phone. Neil gently pulled the hand from Cody's mouth.

"Sit on your hands. Shay can put it on speaker. It'll keep you from biting," he whispered.

They'd left him sitting there curled over the phone, his hands under his thighs.

"We need to figure out what to do with him," Shay warned Neil. She paced in front of the counter, glancing out the window to the hospital hallway. "Security room's on the third floor of the east wing. Ideally, it's all closed off because of the evacuation but— I doubt it. Those policemen probably opened it for the quarantine. Might take us hours to get there. It doesn't seem like Cody has that long."

"We don't know that. We have no idea how long this stage of the disease lasts. Even Harlain said it could be days—"

"She said he was an hour or two from snapping, Neil, you heard her."

"Maybe he's different. They don't know anything. That's what she said."

Shay sighed, threw up her hands in surrender. "Fine. Think of his comfort then. He can't go on like this. He's falling apart, mentally I mean. He's terrified. You don't know because you never met him before a few days ago, but I do. And his hands— I don't think his hands are ever going to be the same. We have to stop him from chewing anymore or something worse will happen. He'll peel the skin right off or get an infection, I don't know, something bad. We need to put him somewhere he's not going to hurt himself. Or us. Psych ward's on the second floor of the same wing. There— there are restraints there."

"That's way too far from the cafeteria, Shay. How are we going to get him food and clean him up?"

"We? We're not going to, remember? We're getting the healthy people out of their rooms and then making some kind of distraction in Physical Therapy. Then we're out of here. Cody— can't come with us. He's sick, Neil. He can't go."

Neil scraped his fingers over his head in frustration. "Them then, the people who decide to stay. We both know Maisy will. Maybe more. How are they going to get food to him?"

"Don't you get it yet? They aren't. Not Cody, not the guy in the bathroom or the girl in the wheelchair or anyone else we put somewhere to keep safe. No one's going to risk their neck to feed them."

"Then— then I'll stay and do it," said Neil.

Shay shook her head. "No, you won't. You've got a daughter in danger. You need to face reality. And so does he. The government's written us off already. Unless they come up with a cure for this real fast, we're done. Sure, they'll make food drops from a helicopter onto the roof or in the courtyard or something, but that's going to be it."

"If you really think that, then why the fuck do you want to put him in restraints? Why not just let him— go. In here maybe. Why do you care if he chews off every last one of his fingers?"

"Because it hurts, Neil. You want to leave him in agony like that?"

"And starving doesn't?"

"You'll get no argument from me. If you'd listen to me, we'd give him the rest of the sleeping pills in that bottle in your pocket. He's talked to his family now. He's telling them he loves them. He hasn't lost his mind yet. The only guilt he has on his conscience is the guy he had to fight off in the ER."

"You're insane! They could find a cure any day, snap all of them out of this and you want to kill them?"

"That's why I said we could restrain him. Give him a few more days. And if they cure him, great. But what is it you want to do with him? Just let him wander the halls? Put him in a room near the cafe and hope the people who stay will feed him? Hope they don't get massacred when they try to feed him and any others we— collect? Face it, the pills are the kindest method. That way, he doesn't have to suffer. And he never has to come back to his senses or— or wake up, or whatever, if they cured him and remember what terrible things he'd done in the meantime."

"But we will. You prepared to live with the fact you killed somebody, Shay?"

"We already talked about—"

"Why'n't you asss me?" slurred Cody, catching the drug counter to stabilize himself. "Should asss me what I wan' do. 'S my life."

Neil flushed.

"What do you want us to do, Cody?" asked Shay. It was kind and sad, not the hissed anger she'd thrown at Neil a moment before.

"We're goin' s— sssecurity. 'S bunch of 'em. 'Round the elevator. SSSleeping now. Full. That lady on th' phone, she can sssee 'em. If they hear ush, I'll distrac. It'll be me. SSo you can get passt."

"But that's suicide," said Neil.

"Closhe anyway. Real closhe now. Can feel it in my ches' like a heart attack. Wanned a scream at my girlsh. They're good girlsh. Wanned to smack you for waking me up. You never did anything wrong. Makess no sensse. Loshing it, Neil. Gotta go. Gotta matter. Thass what I want ush to do."

"So let's stop talking about it and go," said Shay.

Neil was uncomfortable. "You sure, man?"

Cody nodded. His hand was already back in his mouth. The bandage was seeping red again.

"Harlain was supposed to draw the infected away somehow, maybe we should wait."

"Already handled," said Shay. She struggled to climb up onto the counter. Once she did, she stood and waved toward the back wall. A telephone somewhere down the hallway immediately started ringing. Neil helped her down.

"Should we— should we take anything?" he asked, glancing around.

Shay shook her head. "Don't really see anything we could use to hold them off."

"Mo' fasster thish way an'way," said Cody. "You got the keysh?"

Neil patted his pocket. "Got em. Gonna need you to show me which though."

Cody shook his head. "Won' be there. Show you now."

Neil pulled the ring from his pocket and held them out. Cody tried to separate them and grunted with frustration when his bandaged fingers were too clumsy. Neil grasped his arm. "Deep breath, man. Long, deep breath." Cody shut his eyes for a moment. Neil spread out the keys as best he could on his palm. "Just point," he said when Cody opened his eyes.

Cody stared at the keys for a moment, then stabbed at one with a plastic cover. "Elevator."

Another stab at a triangular topped one. "Eassss wing door." And a third, round, like half a dozen others on the ring. "SSSecurity. Less go, 'fore the phone ssstops."

Shay tried to push them behind her before opening the pharmacy door, some deep protective instinct taking over, but Cody tapped her on the shoulder. "Lemme. I go firsh."

Neil wanted to argue but Shay just took a step back and let Cody open the door. The floor outside was smeared with a long, greasy maroon streak. Tattered cloth lay in the sticky mess.

"Where are they?" whispered Shay.

The only answer was the ringing phone at the end of the hallway.

"Hopefully sleeping or gone," muttered Neil, picking his way carefully toward the clearer side of the floor. A chunk of red lay ahead and he forced his eyes away, willing his brain not to try and make sense of the shape. He didn't want to know what it was. "Careful Cody, don't want to slip." But Cody seemed not to see the slick ribbons of viscera, shuffling directly through a shallow puddle of dark blood. Shay tugged his arm, guiding him into the clear space. He left a thick footprint behind and then a few lighter, broken ones. Neil tried not to look at them.

They reached a set of heavy white doors.

"Eass wing," said Cody, pulling his hand from his mouth for an instant. "Should be quieter. Clossed off for evac'tion."

"Then why's there a group of sick people around the elevator?" asked Shay.

Cody shrugged.

"Maybe they got loose from somewhere else," said Neil, pulling the triangular key out. Plastic cover for the elevator, third round one for the security office. Or shit— was it the 4th? He shook his head and clicked the key into place. "There were a lot of people loose on my floor. I don't know if it connects though."

Cody shook his head.

"Maybe when everyone fled the conference room," said Shay. "Maybe some of them tried to reach the security room. They thought they'd be safe there or just that there'd be help there. The hospital director had a key. And the policemen."

"Well," said Neil, peering through the small windows at the top of the door. "Let's hope Cody's right. Might not be none, but less crazy people's a start, right?"

The hall beyond the door was dark. He took a breath and opened the door, letting Cody slide through first. The light flickered on as Neil came through.

"No!" he hissed to Cody, "shut them off! If they respond to sound, they might come running for light, too."

Cody hesitated but flipped the switch off again.

"We're not going to be able to see them, Neil," said Shay behind him. "The windows are all boarded, at least on this floor. What if we trip over one sleeping in the hallway? Besides, better to test your theory now when we can run back through the door and lock it than somewhere deeper in without some kind of exit."

"Guess that makes sense," Neil sighed. The lights came on again.

The floor was clean, the bright rubber tile almost a shock after the greasy rust-colored stains that had covered the previous hallway. The polished floor squeaked softly under his feet. The metallic smell of drying blood was gone, replaced by a thin astringent scent. It should have been a relief. Nothing to avoid or force himself to look away from. It should have been normal. Instead, it made Neil nervous. The contrast began eating into his mind. It took several minutes to realize the hospital music and announcements were off. That's why it's so creepy, he thought, just got used to it never being silent the past few days. At least, that's what he was going to tell himself was wrong. He tried to ignore the idea that the infected were somehow waiting to ambush them, hiding, biding their time. They don't work like that, he reminded himself, but couldn't truly shake the idea. Cody shambled along the other side of the corridor, brushing against the wall as if he were relying on it to guide him. And Shay was a few steps behind them. So there was no reason for Neil to stumble. It felt like he put his foot down wrong. As if he had fallen into a gopher hole, that his brain had miscalculated the distance his foot needed to travel. But the floor was smooth. Clean. Dry. However it happened, he found himself buckling and went sprawling and tried to brace himself as he did. He curled immediately into himself and groaned. Shay's hand clapped over his mouth and he abruptly cut off the sound, fear overtaking pain for a moment.

"Keep watch!" Shay whispered at Cody. Neil gripped his hand. The wound throbbed and it took Neil a few seconds to convince himself not to pass out. Shay lifted him up into a seat. When he could finally focus on something outside of the injury, he could see her keep glancing toward the end of the hall uneasily. But when he looked, there was no one there, Just Cody standing still at the junction.

"Get up," she told him, "You can do it. Gotta get up now." She hooked her arm around his back and tried to lift him, wincing at the pull on her own injuries. He tried not to lean on her.

"What is it?" he asked.

"Nothing. Yet. We need to move. Need to get some more help before you both crack," she muttered, freeing herself as soon as she realized he wasn't about to tip over.

"Both crack? I just tripped, Shay. That's all. It's been a rough couple of days. I've lost a lot of blood. I think I'm just more exhausted than I realized."

"Tripped on what?" She held up her hand and shook her head. "Nope, never mind. You know what? You're right. We're all just scared and tired and hurt. Come on, let's get this over with so somebody else can do the running around for a few hours, okay?"

She hurried toward Cody. Neil followed but glanced back at the hallway floor. She'd been right, there was nothing there to trip on. And it hadn't felt like a tired stumble. He was used to those. Couple double shifts and it'd usually happen. His legs would just give up, twist an ankle or be too loose in the knees and he'd catch himself on the prep counter or the freezer door. He'd know it was time to go home for a while. This wasn't like that. His legs weren't achy. His back wasn't spasming. This was more like his foot hadn't heard the directions right. Like he'd been expecting a different movement. Don't be stupid, he told himself, Cody didn't start stumbling for hours after he was slurring. It's not that. But the image of Evan tripping in the street before the parade kept returning. Think about it later. If it gets worse. Need to get this done so we can get out of here. He jogged to catch up with the others.

28

Whatever happened after they escaped the hospital, Neil knew he would never stop hating the sound of a desk phone ring. Harlain's ploy worked. For a while. Or— maybe it didn't. Neil couldn't be sure if the hallways were simply clear because there were no infected around or if they were clear because Harlain was leading them away with a ringing phone. It has to be stressful, ping-ponging between the security video feeds to some kind of map and a phone list. No way she'd be doing it if there were no one here, Neil reasoned.

They were close to the elevators now, but the sound of the phone was nearer too. Shay peered around the corner wall of some administrator's office toward their destination and then swung back, shaking her head. "It's not working," she whispered. "There's still a good half-dozen of them just— just standing there. Like they're half asleep or something."

"Wish she'd shut offa phone then," muttered Cody.

"I think she's doing it as much to warn us as she is to draw them away," said Neil. "But now we have to figure out how to get by them."

"Know 'ow. You jus' gotta be ready."

"No, we'll find some other way." Neil crept past Shay to look for himself. There were several shadows milling around the large lobby where the elevators sat, but he couldn't see any details. Maybe they aren't sick. Maybe they're just in shock. Something insane in him wanted to run up to them, wanted to call out. But they'd been there since Neil had left the pharmacy. If they were only in shock, he reasoned, they'd hear the announcement too and join them on the way back down. He pushed aside a slight shimmer of fear at the thought of the way back down. It was too far away. One crisis at a time, he told himself.

He retreated back around the corner. "Why can't we take the stairs?"

"Guess we could, but the door is right next to the elevator. Doesn't solve the problem," said Shay.

"No camerash. Harlain can't ssee. Sslower. If they chasse," added Cody.

Neil thought for a moment. "They're ignoring the phone. And each other. Maybe they'll ignore us. If we— if we're quiet."

"They might— might still be... full," agreed Shay. Neil saw her shoulders jerk as she retched against her hand to keep it as quiet as possible.

"We could try slipping past. If we're quiet and slow, maybe it'll work," suggested Neil.

"Or we could be right in the middle of them when they freak out," said Shay. "We need to distract them and Harlain's phone trick isn't working so well."

"Building this big, there has to be another set of stairs and an elevator somewhere. Freight elevator or something."

"'S pass them," said Cody. "And there'ss two in th'other wing but even more of em over there. You shaw."

Shay shuddered. "Yeah, not doing that staircase again. We were lucky to get out of there the first time, probably drew half your floor, Neil."

Neil rubbed his cheek in frustration. "There has to be another way. We're not just going to throw Cody to them like a piece of steak."

"We could— wait," said Shay. "Maybe they'll wander away. Or take care of each other. There's no reason we can't wait another few hours to do this."

"'Es there iss. You have my picture. My girlss?" Cody asked.

Neil pulled it from his pocket. Cody tried to take it but the bandages made him fumble. Neil caught it again.

"Hold it up. Wanna ssee em."

He stared at the creased photo for a moment under the harsh fluorescent light. Then he pushed Neil's hand back toward his pocket. "Fin' 'em. For me."

"No, don't—"

"SSTOP arguing!" Cody shouted. "Time!"

"Shit," Shay muttered as a ripple of growls rose around the corner. Cody turned and lurched toward the elevator. Neil reached to grab him, to stop him, but the deep gurgle of rage that came from Cody's throat made Neil freeze. Shay pushed Neil against the wall.

"Too late," she whispered.

Cody's roar grew and Neil could see the tendons in his neck vibrating. An answering shriek came from around the corner and then a chorus of rasping screams. Cody sprinted forward unevenly and he disappeared around the corner. Neil winced at the sound of a heavy thud and the sound of wet spatter.

"Go, go, go," cried Shay, yanking him toward the elevators. They swung around the corner and into full view of the small crowd of infected. Cody grappled with two of them as the others closed in. His teeth dripped blood. His eyes were wide, almost protruding from the sockets and he screamed into the face of an enraged middle-aged woman in a hospital gown.

"Don't look," hissed Shay, tugging insistently. "Keys, keys!"

Neil groped for the ring of keys in his pocket as they ran. A few of the infected were turning to look at him. He jerked the keys out of the fabric and they jangled wildly. More heads swung around, attracted by the sound. He tried to find the right key but tripped over a foot that lay across their path and went sprawling. The keys spun away into the silver corner of the elevator door. Shay scooped them up, ignoring him. "Which one?" she yelled.

Neil scrambled up, but he was too slow. Someone's nails raked over his neck and down his back. He twisted away, but he was caught by a large man behind him.

"Which one, Neil?"

"P—plastic top! Green!" He swung a fist, just trying to get free. The man's face rocked back and he grunted but immediately lunged again, as if the punch hadn't hurt at all. Neil jabbed again, trying to keep the man's teeth from snapping shut on his nose. "Help!" he cried.

A blunt, crushing pain bloomed in the back of his right calf. The elevator dinged somewhere beneath the clamor of grunts and roars. Someone slammed into his side and he toppled. It shook him free and he crawled toward the opening elevator door. Shay grabbed his outstretched arm and dragged him into the elevator car. Neil looked behind him. Cody was in the center of the infected. Neil could see the soiled bandages curled into a rigid claw above the jumble of limbs and frenzied snarls of several faces. It was the only piece of him visible. The door slid shut with another ding. He could hear the hollow bangs of fists on the outer metal before the car slid up and away from them.

29

Neil's breathing whooshed through the elevator car, harsh and heavy. His calf ached so fiercely that he was light-headed. His pant leg was whole though, and he hoped the skin beneath was also unbroken. Shay sniffled behind him.

"I'm sorry," he said. The elevator chimed again and the door slid open on a dim hallway. No lights were on, but the windows were unboarded.

"Not your fault. Not my fault. Not anyone's fault." Her voice was teary. They both stared out at the hallway. The door's bell dinged again and Neil stuck his arm out to keep it from closing. He hauled himself up, flinching as he tried to put weight on his injured leg. It was bearable but he couldn't pretend it didn't hurt. He limped into the hallway.

Shay followed him out and plopped against the far wall of the hallway. She covered her face with her hands and started to shake. Neil hobbled to her side, wincing as he slid down next to her. Snow fell past the window at the end of the hall and he stared at it. After a few minutes, he realized he'd lost track of time. Shay's shuddering was gradually decreasing.

"Shitty way to die," he said. "But at least it meant something. I hope."

"Shut up, Neil."

"Can't. If we sit here, it's not going to mean anything. He'll just have suffered so we could die two floors above him."

"Fuck you."

"We have to go, Shay. We have to help those other people so what Cody did matters."

"Doesn't matter. It was pointless. This whole thing is pointless. We're all going to die in here. A floor up or in the stairwell or—"

"We're not. We're leaving. And it's going to be because of him. We get the trapped patients out and then we take them with us. Tonight."

"You can't even walk straight. And we're both ragged. We're going to have to heal up," said Shay, "before we even try to get out of here. You know that, right?"

"No fucking way. I'll wheel myself out on a gurney if I have to. We're not staying here one second longer than we have to."

She pushed herself up the wall with a grunt. "There's no way you'll be able to outrun them if your plan doesn't work. Not like this. Me either, to be honest. And the people in the hospital rooms— they haven't eaten in days, Neil. I'm sure there's some staff left— somewhere in the building, but most of the people in the rooms were already ill or injured. We don't even know if they'll be able to make it to the cafe. And we aren't just talking about avoiding the infected. There are the guards outside, too. Not all of them are going to rush to the therapy wing, no matter how many sick people pile out of it. We're going to have to make it past whoever's left. Maybe you want to try a mad dash for the exit, but not everyone's going to be able to do that. We're not going to make it."

He struggled to hide how difficult it was to stand up again. "I know we can't save all of them. You made that really clear. But we can't just wait until we're all healed up. Things are only going to get worse. You said you wanted to get out of here for your family. Even if it meant leaving us behind."

Shay flushed. "That was before Cody— did what he did for us. And before I talked to my kids. They're safe. Yours and Cody's too. Someone's taking care of them. And then there's..." She trailed off and he led them slowly down the hall.

"Then there's what?" he asked.

"Never mind. Just— think about it, okay? Still got to get to the security office and figure out the best way to let them out anyway, we have time to consider. And observe the situation. Maybe we'll both feel— differently by then."

"Your kids might be safe. Cody's kids might be safe, they've got someone with them. Cody's wife, your sister, even Dante's son has his mom with him. Randi's got no one. At least until my wi— until Joan can get there. What if things go wrong before then? What if someone snaps like they did here?"

"They're ready this time. It won't be the same."

Neil shook his head and hobbled past a silent conference room. "You sure? Because I'm not."

Shay caught up with him. She didn't answer him but was obviously chewing on some dark thought.

"Whatever you're thinking," he muttered, "Just keep it. Let's get to the security office first. There's no point in arguing about anything else until after then. You have any idea where it is?"

"Not far. Around the corner there and to the right. Takes up most of this floor. Once we're in there though, I've no idea. I've only gone there for background checks and my worker id. Everything else isn't my department. Maybe Cody would have known. Or Debbie. Or—" she broke off with a shaky breath.

"I'm so sorry," said Neil. He touched her shoulder but she shrugged it off.

"No time for that," she said. "Later. We'll think about them later."

"Okay," he agreed. They rounded the corner. A woman in a tan security uniform lay sprawled across the floor. The buttons on her shirt strained and the fabric gapped where her torso had bloated. A slightly rancid smell made Neil's stomach roil.

"Thought we'd be clear," Shay whispered, half ducking on instinct. "Harlain could have warned us."

"I don't think she's— fresh," he said softly. "Looks like it's been a while. Maybe the security team came up here after you guys scattered to get a better idea of things. Or to get weapons. They have weapons in a hospital?"

"Tasers. There's usually a cop in the ER with a gun, but none of the hospital security. Still, a taser'd be enough to slow the sick people down, I'd guess. Question is, was she sick or is the person who attacked her still here somewhere?"

Neil stared at the woman. Her face had mottled into a dull green and yellow in the dim light from the windows at the end of the hall. There were no visible injuries on her front, but there was blood on one of her pant legs. "You want to stop to roll her over and see?" he whispered.

"No. Just be ready."

Neil skirted the woman's outstretched arm, leaning against the wall to take some weight off of his leg. His calf spasmed every few seconds sending hot flares all the way to his hip every third step or so. Shay was right. No way was he going to be able to run like this. Not past a barricade. Maybe not even to the security room door if someone leaped out at them. No Cody to take the attack for you, he thought with an intense wave of shame. Left him, just like you left Dante. Part of him knew he hadn't had a choice but it didn't diminish his sense of guilt. Put it away, like Shay said. Later.

The security room was a bank of large tinted windows with a glass door in the center. It was far too dark inside to see anything except the vague gray outline of some sort of reception desk. The keys jingled lightly as Shay tried to find the right one. "Keep an eye out for me," she said. "This feels— bad. Scary."

"That's because it is," he said, glancing down to the far end of the hall. Nothing moved and there was no sound except the quiet hum of the air vents and the chime of the keys. "It's a round one," he told her, "next to some others the same shape." The woman on the floor bothered him. Should do something for her. Should do something for Cody, too. Especially if we aren't going to leave for a few days. Days. How can we wait that long? This damn leg— maybe if I can find some painkillers. That's what we'll do. We'll find something to make it numb or so we don't care. Then we all get out of here. Tonight. Deal with the injuries later. Can't be worse than letting them fester in here, right? Not like we've got another doc to help.

"It's not. Cody must have confused them," sighed Shay. Neil glanced over at the ring.

"Yeah, this one, I think," he said, grabbing the small key.

"Tried it. Tried all the ones shaped that way. Going to have to just keep trying others. Guess we can eliminate the two we already used. And this one— that's the bathroom key we locked that guy in."

"There's got to be at least thir—" Neil broke off as somewhere farther down the hall, a phone jangled, loud and strident.

Shay turned and stared toward the sound. "Is she calling to tell us something? Or is she distracting someone?"

Neil pushed her back toward the door. "Let's not find out. Might not even be her. Might be someone just calling the hospital trying to find someone. Just— take a breath and try another key." He moved to block her side from the long, empty length of hallway, spreading his arms slightly, as if he could somehow bodily stop whoever might come sprinting down the hall. Instinct, mostly. He had no real idea what he'd do if it came to that. He risked a glance at the dead woman. There was a walkie talkie on her belt, but nothing else of use. He could see a fire extinguisher a few dozen feet farther on and wondered if he could throw it at someone if he had to. Or swing it. He took a few steps toward it, eyeing the end of the hall. The phone had not stopped ringing. He could see shadows moving on the wall across from the doorway to the west wing. Flapping and shifting and jerking. Something was running toward the doorway. Why? Why is Harlain using the phone? We were safe. She's calling them closer! Neil tried to sprint to the fire extinguisher as the shadows solidified, became dense. His leg screamed in protest and somewhere behind him, Shay was hissing his name. Someone growled behind an office door a little farther down. The door swung open and banged just as Neil got to the fire extinguisher. A large man in a ripped hospital gown stumbled out of the office. The man swung his face toward the sound of the phone, but not before Neil caught a glimpse of his face.

"Dante?" He was too shocked to stop himself from blurting it out and Dante turned away from the phone at the sound of Neil's voice. He recognizes me, thought Neil, he's not sick! "Dante, I'm so sorry I left. I— I looked for you but there were crazy people and— Jesus, I'm so glad you're okay." Dante took an unsteady step toward him then a few more, still glancing over his shoulder at the phone. "No, no ignore that. It's a friend. Trying to dis—" Neil broke off as Shay yanked on his arm.

"What are you doing, fool?" she snapped and dragged him back toward the door. Dante ran toward them.

"Yeah, come on, gotta go," encouraged Neil. Shay was still tugging him. Dante's hospital gown was rent in several places and there was dark spatter over most of the front. Neil could see a deep scrape on his friend's face. It stretched and twisted as Dante's mouth gaped open. The glass door banged into Neil's back. Shay was holding it open for him. He turned away for an instant to get around it and that was when the low, rumbling snarl erupted from Dante. It froze Neil, halfway behind the glass door and sent a deep shudder through his gut and up into his chest. He'd never heard that sound from Dante before. Nothing close.

"Get inside!" screamed Shay. "Shut the damn door!"

"No, that's my—" Shay plowed into him with her shoulder and he grunted and toppled into the security office. She slammed the door and threw herself against it. "He's my friend!" Neil cried.

"He's sick," said Shay, "help me lock it so he can't kill us." Her body jerked and twitched trying to keep the door in place while Dante pushed against it.

"No, he recognized me." Neil scrambled up, intending to pull her from the door. "There are actual sick people coming. You have to let him in!"

"He didn't, Neil. Oh!" She started as the door bumped and then fell shut again. "Look at him. He's sick. He only recognized— food or danger or whatever insane idea is going through their heads. He's delirious. Look at him."

"He's just scared." He pried at her arms.

"Stop!" she cried. "I don't want to hurt you—"

He shoved against her side. The door rattled and she bounced forward a few inches. "Let him in!" Neil yelled.

Shay kicked out with her leg and caught him square in the stomach. Neil groaned and backed up for an instant.

"Stop," she said again. "Stop and look." The door banged against her back and her head smacked against the glass with a dull thud. She wrapped her arms around her skull to stop the pain and slid down into a crouch to recover. Dante was wholly visible to Neil for a few seconds as she did so. His face was close enough to the glass that his breath fogged against it in rolling bursts. A cracked glaze of old blood flaked off in tiny maroon shards as Dante screamed and scrabbled at the door. The cuts on his cheek weren't the only injuries Dante had. A large patch of skin was missing from his upper chest, leaving a pink, watery hole visible through a rip in the hospital gown.

"Dante, Dante, it's okay, gonna get you in here. We're gonna get out of this place, go get Tommy and Randi."

Dante just growled and huffed at the door.

"You see?" asked Shay, bracing her back against the glass with her feet.

"No he's just, he's going to get hurt out there."

"Look at his fingers," she told him.

"His fingers?"

"Just look."

"But they're coming—"

"Then go out there with him, but he's not coming inside. He's sick. Look at his damned hands, Neil."

He tried to follow the erratic flails and slaps of Dante's hands. One was curled into a fist, but he could see enough anyway. The skin was gone well past the first knuckle of every finger, peeled and gnawed away. He'd had no one to bandage them as they'd done for Cody. The tissue beneath was raw red and sickening gray-white where he'd sucked the blood away. His other hand slapped against the glass. It was just as damaged. Neil could see the strange indentation where one of Dante's fingernails should be. He didn't even seem to feel it when the wounds made contact with the door. It didn't slow the furious smacking and thumps.

Shay worked her way back up to standing. "Help me lock it before he has buddies," she said.

"He's— he's my best friend, Shay." Neil choked on the words, but he pressed a hand against the doorframe.

"I'm so sorry," said Shay. "But it's not him anymore. Not right now. We get out of here and maybe we can get him some help. If you let him in here, he'll kill us, understand? We're both too exhausted and too injured to fight him off or restrain him like we did before. There's only two of us now."

Neil shook his head but leaned into his hand to keep the door from flying open. Shay reached for the lock.

"If he's your friend, you don't want him to wake up knowing he killed you, do you? You don't want him to have that on his conscience, even if he was crazy when he did it. It won't matter."

Neil hesitated. He could feel the grief already boiling up into his chest. "I can't, I can't," he said.

Shay slammed a shoulder into the bouncing door and twisted the lock. "It's ok, you don't have to," she gasped, pulling him away from the door. "It's okay. You didn't make the decision, I did. Remember that, ok? My decision. My fault, Neil." She had wrapped her arms around him, squeezing him into a painful hug. It was Shay who was crying hardest. Outside, the phone abruptly stopped ringing.

30

Neil stared at Dante outside the security room. He'd stopped pounding on the door at last, a little while after the phone stopped ringing. Now he just paced in front of it. Neil knew he'd likely have to hurt Dante when they needed to leave. Maybe I can just lock him in here. Nobody will need the room when we're done. He walked to the far corner of the glass watching the doorway to the other wing. Whoever had been running toward the phone had never made it. At least, not that Neil had seen. He wondered if they'd killed each other or if they'd been distracted by something else. Wherever they were, they had at least avoided Dante. Maybe they weren't sick. Maybe they heard the phone and thought they were saved. We've got to do this before more people get hurt.

Shay had retreated farther into the office, looking for another first aid kit to rebandage their wounds where the stitches had broken. Neil was reluctant to leave the windows, afraid that something would happen to Dante while he was gone. Got to do it, he told himself, got to get this done. The longer he's out there, the bigger risk we all take. He paced with Dante, just on the inside of the glass, limping and wincing each time he put weight on his bitten leg.

"I don't know if you can hear me. I know you don't understand what I'm saying. But maybe— maybe you'll get better, huh? And when you do, I hope you remember that I— you're my best friend, Dante. And— I don't want to hurt you. So I hope you go away. I hope— I hope the nurse in your bathroom, I hope that wasn't you. Because if it were me, I wouldn't want to know that about myself. I just want you to know, if it was, if— if there were others like the nurse that you hurt— it's not your fault. Some disease, man. They don't even know. That's why you hurt yourself, too. Your hands. I— want to help. Remember when I burned the shit out of my palm on the grill a couple years ago? Forgot it was on and leaned on it. Stupid. Stank like the worst turned pork. You helped me stop the burn, started treating it and Charlie came in and threatened to fire us because it was the beginning of the rush. And you just calmly flipped him off and kept cleaning my hand while I swore a blue streak. Drove me here, right in mid-shift. Wish I could do that for your hands, Dante. Wish I could do that for whatever's wrong in your head, too. You should go away. Find somewhere to hide from the others until they find a medicine. I'll take care of Graziella and Tommy until you're better, I promise. Going to get them tonight. So you— you go. Gonna go find the security system now, maybe not having me here will make you wander away. I wish there was something more I could do for you. I'm sorry Dante. Christ, I'm so sorry."

He watched Dante stumble into the far wall of the hallway and then turned around. Neil followed a dark passage behind the large reception area. There were several small offices to either side, but at the end was a large bank of monitors and a neatly kept desk with a complex panel of buttons. Shay was a shadow against the light from the monitors.

"You okay?" Neil asked after several seconds where she didn't move.

"There's— so many I recognize," said Shay, "even on these crappy screens. I thought it'd be mostly patients."

He stood beside her, staring at the videos. "Some of them might not be sick, Shay," he said. "Look, where's that?" he pointed to a cluster of people lying in rows on the upper right screen. She squinted at it.

"I think— it's the maternity ward. Yeah— see the incubators in that corner? But it's supposed to be clear. They were evacuated days ago."

"Maybe that's why those people went there. Employees would know it was empty. Empty means safe right now. And they wouldn't arrange themselves like that if they were sick. They're close enough to help each other but far enough apart to have their own space."

"They could all be dead, Neil."

"No, look." Someone walked through the bottom of the frame and out again. "Bet they're keeping watches. The others are sleeping— there's another one, she shifted on her blankets, see?"

"You think?" asked Shay. Her expression was hard to read in the dim light but her voice was brighter than he'd yet heard it.

"Sure. Probably regrouped after what happened in the conference room and headed there, thinking they'd wait it out."

"So then why'd Harlain call us? There's got to be a dozen people there. And they were already in this wing, where it was emptier. They had a better chance of getting here than we did."

"Maybe she tried them. Maybe they said no. Or maybe she isn't holding their families hostage so she had no way of convincing them."

"She's not holding them hostage, Neil."

"Sure feels like it, right now. Where is she by the way? I thought the phone'd be ringing off the hook as soon as we were safely in here."

"She said her shift was ending soon. If it's as much of a risk to help us as she says, she wouldn't have stayed longer or done it with someone else looking over her shoulder. And maybe she figured we could handle it from here. Like she said earlier, it's our necks on the line, not hers."

"I— guess we can try," said Neil. "We should probably plan out how to do this first."

"What plan? We just have to tell the sane ones that we're opening the patient room doors and to meet us in the cafeteria. That's it. There's not really anything else we can do."

"We can try to tell them a safe route. Or— or make a safe route. Harlain used the phone, but we've got control over the whole place. Sort of."

Shay snorted a laugh. "What control? This isn't a space ship. We can see what's going on out there and we have remote access to some of the fire doors and patient room doors, that's about it. Maybe we can find a few tasers in the lockers if we're lucky, but even those aren't going to help much. I think those only incapacitate one person at a time. Not sure, never used one. Look at how many sick people there are. Just the ones we can tell are lurching or falling or—" Her shoulders jerked as she gagged. "Or eating. Got to be close to forty. And who knows how many more that we can't tell. We can't take on that many."

"We don't have to, that's my point. We tell the sane people to make some— sign. So we know. Then we start closing fire doors or setting off alarms to draw the sick ones away or trap them. We'll make a safe— safer way to the cafeteria and to the therapy pool and the parking garage exit. You said there were about a hundred and fifty staff and patients left when the quarantine hit. Debbie said the people who had to be left in the ER were dead when she and Cody went back to help them. Or— or were sick and had to be dealt with. We found six or seven more in the courtyard and locked up three more sick people. Aside from that, just from what we've seen of how the sick people act, we have to assume that at least a third have died—"

"That's a neat little math trick, Neil," Shay snapped. "How about another one? We don't know how many of these sane people are in the beginning stages of the disease. Sure, some will be obvious, like Cody, we can separate them into— I dunno, into another section of the cafe or dry storage or something. But what about the ones who aren't slurring yet? The ones who are just a little sluggish or clumsy? Like—" She closed her mouth abruptly, took a deep breath. "I don't like thinking about them like this. These are people I see every day. I know some of their families. Been out to dinner with a few. I know," she said turning to him as he opened his mouth to protest, "I know you don't see them as a math problem. You're the one who's resisted hurting any of them even to save your own skin. I know. And I realize we have to plan, so we have to talk about it. It still sucks. And— you're right. We're not going to be able to save every one of them. Not even all the ones who don't have this— plague. I'm not sure anyone's going to come out of those patient rooms at all. And your friend— you realize you might have to— we might have to kill him to get out of here, right? That it might come to that?"

"So what do you want to do then?" Neil cried. "What's your suggestion? We sit here and watch whoever is left starve to death? Or get attacked when they make a desperate attempt to raid one of the vending machines? Or bust in the cafe windows to grab what they can and leave it unprotected and all the others scattered? What do you want to do, Shay?"

"I don't know! Stop shouting at me, I don't know any more than you do. I don't have another idea, I just don't like this one."

Neil rubbed his forehead. "Yeah, well, me either. Sho less try the one idea we've got and hope."

Shay flinched. Neil looked around expecting some kind of movement in the shadowy office.

"What?" he asked, "What's wrong?"

"You— what did you say a moment ago?"

"Let's try the one idea we've got?"

She seemed to shake herself and said, "Yeah, of course. Might as well get this out of the way. I'm tired of talking about it. Just tired in general."

"Ok," said Neil bending over the desk and flipping on a small lamp so he could see the control panel more easily. "First thing's to figure out where the intercom thing is. And the emergency unlock doohickey."

The room was quiet for several seconds while he tried to read the peeling labels below the buttons and switches.

"Neil," said Shay from over his shoulder, "Have I been slurring?"

"No," he said, confused. "Besides, isn't that something you'd know?"

"I don't know. Would I?"

He twisted to look at her. "You aren't slurring. Don't worry. I know this is— fucking terrifying, but we're going to get through it. You aren't sick. Don't borrow trouble."

"Yeah. Okay." She opened a drawer and rummaged around.

"What are you looking for?"

"Some kind of manual. Got to be some kind of emergency protocol or something. There always is here. Every possible station has one, even in the cafe."

Neil was hungry again by the time they'd figured out where each toggle was and what they wanted to say. They'd had a few bags of pretzels and some water that the pharmacist had stashed at some point, but that had been hours before. Maybe longer. It was hard to tell in the security office because none of the windows were on exterior walls. The time stamps on the video feeds said it was three but he hadn't thought to notice the time when they left the pharmacy so he had no idea how long it had actually been. They were both going to need something solid, soon. The plate of eggs in the cafe had been two days ago. Or had it been three? He didn't like that he was losing track of time. Regardless, he and Shay weren't going to be feeling any better until they had an actual meal. None of the people in the patient rooms would either. It'd been even longer for them. Get back to the cafe and we'll feed everyone. Hot cup of something would be nice, too, take care of this scratchy throat. Last thing I need is a cold on top of it all.

"You ready?" asked Shay, shaking him from his wandering thoughts.

"Sure. Know what you want to ssay? The sick people will hear it too. They'll probably start that growling thing they do and get worked up. Besht keep it short and ssweet. I'll be ready to let them out when you say."

Shay's expression fell. Neil thought maybe she was nervous about the intercom.

"I can do it if it's uncomfortable for you," he offered.

"N—no, I'll do it. You just control the doors, ok?"

"Sure."

Shay clicked on the microphone then immediately clicked it off again. "What do we do about the people who are too weak to get out of their beds?" she asked.

Neil hesitated. "We aren't even going to know where they are, Shay. Or if they've got this thing. What can we do? If there were more of us— maybe when there are more of us, we can talk about sending a rescue party to each room but— I don't know. There's nothing we can do except to give them a chance. At least they'll know someone's trying to help them, that they haven't been forgotten. Rather die knowing that, if it were me."

"I hate this," Shay muttered and clicked the microphone on. "If you can understand me, please listen. There are some things you need to know. In a few minutes, my friend and I are going to unlock the patient room doors so that you can escape. Before that happens, you should know what's going on outside your room and outside this hospital. We're under quarantine for some new disease. We don't know who might be infected or how it gets passed around yet. When the people who have it reach a certain point, though, they're very violent. They don't seem to recognize anyone— we aren't even certain they recognize when they're in pain. They will attack you. That's why you've been stuck in your rooms without help for days. We had police here to enforce the quarantine. As far as I know, most of them have died. There was no one left to check on you or let you out. We're going to do that now. But we can't tell you who or what might be waiting outside. You're going to see some— bad things. Stay quiet. We're going to set off alarms at certain spots to draw the infected away from the stairways. They seem drawn by sound. They're going to attack each other on sight, too. You're going to want to— to save them, because they're people. Nurses who cared for you. Doctors. Other patients. I can't— I can't tell you not to try to help, I can't be your conscience, but if you do, and they are sick, they'll turn on you. I know you're hungry. Probably a lot of you need medical care. I hope there are some doctors left. The cafe is empty and locked. A lady named Maisy will let you in. If you can make it, we can help each other. There is food and some medical supplies and most importantly, we'll all be together."

"Tell them not to go outside," said Neil, watching the monitors. He could see stray sick people whirling around, scrabbling at walls, trying to locate Shay's voice. Up in the maternity ward, the people were sitting up, listening raptly. Even the people on watch had halted mid-stride and stared up toward the ceiling.

Shay nodded, took a deep breath. "You're going to want to leave the hospital. Go home. I know. Me too. But you can't, not yet. Our exits have all been blocked and guarded by armed soldiers. Some of you aren't going to believe me. And I'm sorry. I don't know how to convince you. We tried, the four of us. One of us died trying. The soldiers have been ordered to shoot on sight. If— if you join us in the cafe instead, maybe we can— I'm not sure. Maybe we can negotiate to be released or something. Or find some other way to survive. No one else is coming. They aren't going to send in more soldiers to help us. All we've got is each other. So this is the plan. We're going to give you some time to get ready. We'll try and draw the loose sick people out of your hallways, but I'm not sure if it'll work. I'll warn you again before we unlock the doors. The sick people seem to be able to open doors, but they only seem to do it when they are chasing something. It's like they forget whatever is out of sight. So if— if you're not able to get out, you'll still be safe if you stay quiet. Or if you need more time to get ready, the sick people aren't going to try your door unless you call them to it. We know they can't figure out elevators. They can't figure out locks. We haven't discovered much else about them yet. Look around you. Don't take anything that won't help you make it to the cafe. Look for something to push the infected away from you, to stop them from biting and clawing. A— an iv pole, a crutch, a cane. Head for the elevators. If you take the stairs, be careful, we can't see you or help you in there. Come down to the lobby. We'll do our best to help you. Get ready, and then we'll talk again."

"Good idea," said Neil as she clicked the microphone off, "telling them to get ready. Didn't even think of that."

"You think they listened?" Shay asked, wiping the sweat from her hands over the knees of her pants.

"Look," he said, pointing to the maternity ward feed. The people were up, moving and stuffing objects into plastic bags.

"Traveling too heavy," said Shay, shaking her head.

"It's only a few floors. And they're healthy. Got a few fire axes with them. They must have been to several floors."

"Yeah," Shay squinted at the screen. "I think that's one of the policemen who came in with the quarantine. It looks like he's in charge of their group. He probably found them going door to door."

"There are more— where's this?" he pointed to the bottom left screen where a few figures slid out from behind a long counter.

"Uh... employee break room, I think. That one's way over near physical therapy. I hope it's empty over there."

"They were hiding. I don't think it's empty."

The feed switched to the nearby hall. The floor below the camera was almost black. A foot lay at the corner of a frame and a person stood swaying unevenly staring at the far wall of the hallway. Another lay curled up on their side nearby. Neil couldn't tell if they were dead or injured or sleeping. There was more blood on the clothing of both. The feed switched back to the break room. "We need to clear a path for them."

"We need to clear a path for most of them. Where are you going to draw these to? If you pull them too close to another group then we're no better off than when we started."

"Maybe we can do it slowly. We have the intercom. And the cameras. Go floor by floor and tell the sane ones when to run. We won't be able to draw all of them anyway. You saw out in the hall and down by the elevators. There'll be some who ignore the alarms. But we can at least— thin it out a little."

"Still doesn't answer the question of where to draw them to," said Shay.

Neil shrugged. "We want them down by the therapy pool, right?"

"But if they blow our distraction early then we'll lose any chance to escape."

"They won't. The soldiers outside won't even know they're there until we figure out how to break down a door and let them come pouring out."

"How are we going to do that? And wouldn't it be easier to do without a ton of sick people milling around the pool?"

"I— haven't figured that part out yet," admitted Neil.

"They'll kill each other if you put them together like that."

"Yeah. Some of em will. Until they get— full and sleepy. I don't know what choice we have though. We don't draw them away and they'll attack whoever they run across. People will starve to death in their rooms or come out and get slaughtered. If we do draw them away, they're going to run across each other— either in little offices or at the therapy pool. They're going to fight either way. Or they'll starve too. Might as well have them all in one spot, or at least as many as we can, so that the people who can still survive this have a chance. Isn't that what you've been telling me this whole time?"

"Shooting them is fast," said Shay. "I never thought letting them tear each other apart over— days was a good idea."

"You want to go door to door trying to shoot them? Where are we going to get that many bullets? And I don't even know if it's possible to get that gun back at this point—"

"I don't want to go shoot people. I'm just— why the fuck do you and I have to make these decisions? Where's the— the government or the police or anyone?" She rubbed her forehead in frustration.

"Not here. But we are. And there are people waiting for help."

"Some of those people are going to die while we try to help them."

"Yeah, Shay, ssome of em are. They won' be quick enough to the elevators or they'll panic or run into bad luck with a stray infected person."

"We're going to have to watch them die. Right here. The infected people too. All on-screen."

"Yeah."

"I don't want to do this." Shay's face crumpled.

"Me either," said Neil and tried not to press any of her wounds as he hugged her. "But we have to. Just like— just like when we're done in here, I'm going to have to kill my bes' friend. We don't really have a choice."

They cried together for a minute, and then Shay wiped her face and cleared her throat. "Let's get it over with," she said.

Neil let her go and turned toward the control panel. "We'll have to tell them the plan then, so they know to wait. Start with that break room, it's closest to the pool." He traced an emergency map of the hospital with one finger to find the correct alarm trigger on the panel.

Shay clicked the microphone on.

31

It was strange, not hearing the blaring panic of the alarm. He wasn't certain the switch had worked until Shay pointed to the strobing light at the corner of the small screen and someone came sprinting down the corridor toward it. The man stumbled near the entrance of the ER, tripping over a stray wheelchair and went sprawling, sliding to a brutal, abrupt stop against the wall near the edge of the camera's range. Neil winced, but the figure barely seemed to notice, already scrambling up, his head whipping around, searching for the sound. Neil's heart took an odd leap, something like a twisted joy that the alarm had produced some result. "It's working," he said abruptly.

"Can't believe he isn't knocked out from that," said Shay. "Or at least slower. That must have hurt like hell." She pointed to another screen. "More coming. You better hit the next alarm or you'll have a— a traffic jam."

Neil clicked the next silver toggle before killing the first alarm and watched the first figure hurtled out of one screen and into the next. Three more careened through the first screen. Neil wasn't certain whether they were chasing the sound or chasing each other. He panicked and found the next toggle. He was too late. The lights were flashing but the figures had stopped, facing each other. The man in front had turned, his mouth dropped open in a wide scream. His body shook with the force of it. The other three didn't even slow down, leaping at him. "Shit," gasped Neil, frantically switching the toggles for the alarms on and off, hoping to draw their attention. They were fighting in a soundless flurry of jerking arms and flapping clothing. The first man's shirt tore, caught in the grip of someone's fist. He lunged forward and latched on to a woman's shoulder. She stumbled back a step before raking her fingers over another woman's face. "Jesus," said Shay. "They aren't even— they're just lashing out. There's no— reason to it. She should be fighting back against that man but instead..."

Neil clutched at his head. "What do I do?" he cried. "They'll kill each other. What do I do?"

Shay glanced away from the screen at him. "Yeah. We talked about that, remember?"

"Thish iss bad. Thish iss worse than I thought it would be," he muttered. On the screen, the woman's arm flailed. The man slammed her against the hallway wall, his mouth still embedded in her shoulder. He could see the dent the impact of her head had made in the drywall. She went limp for a second.

"Hey, hey," she said quickly, "Take a breath. Close your eyes and take a breath." She gripped his shoulders. "It was going to happen, remember? At the pool."

"I know, I know." He gulped air and scraped his hands over his face. "But I did this."

"No," Shay said. "Stop that. If we hadn't come, if we hadn't tried, then a lot more people were going to die, right? That's what you said. These people would have found each other eventually. Or others. They'd still die. After suffering a lot more. Take a breath, Neil."

She clicked off the screen where the people were fighting. "We'll give them a few minutes, okay? Take a walk. Find a drink of water. Just breathe. And when we come back— it'll be over."

"It's going to get worse," he said. "With more of them. It'll be worse when they get to the pool."

"We don't have to watch it," she told him. "Some of them will be— uninterested by then. A lot of them, maybe. Some of it will happen in other places. Like it did here."

"What if— what if you see someone you recognize?" His voice failed, turning to a brittle rasp at the end, but she understood anyway.

"I will," she said. "I have. And that's why it's easier for me. I know who they were before all this. A lot of them, anyway. I know whatever's happening to them— it's not who they were. You've only seen them this way. Except for your friend and Cody a little. You don't know how many of them wouldn't recognize themselves. Wouldn't want to. You— you're mom, Neil. She's sick, right?"

"Yes," he sighed, staring at the blank screen she'd shut off.

"She's like those people now. I know you don't want to think about it, but she is. And your friend outside. Do you recognize anything about him, except for his face? They aren't— them. And I don't know if they'll ever be themselves again. This disease, it's got to affect a person's brain. Even if they get cured, even if there's no damage, they'll never be the same. Not ever. Not after what they've been through."

"Maybe they won't remember," he cried.

"Maybe. But someone will tell them, eventually. If they could talk to you, do you think they'd tell you to let them wander the halls hurting other people until they die? Or that they'd decide that if it saved some people, it'd be worth what we're doing to them? What would Cody have said? What would your mom have said?"

Neil closed his eyes and took a very long, slow breath. "Okay," he said. "Okay. You're right. Let's get this done then."

Things didn't get unbearable again until Shay started on the second floor. Most of the remaining infected on the first floor had been fairly spread out. The alarms had worked fairly well, though a few stragglers got distracted by the strobing lights in the corners of the hallway, ignoring the blaring sound. Shay had shut off a few screens, including the interior of the therapy pool, its warm water tranquil and bubbling gently before any of the sick had entered it. Neil had drawn them one after another to the entrance and then watched them disappear through the open doors. He wasn't certain his imagination was any better than the reality and almost asked her to turn on the screen again, but didn't. There'd been a few that just wouldn't be drawn. Sleeping or wandering listlessly halfway there after feeding. Neil had held his breath as the healthy people in the break room slunk slowly past a few of the infected. That group had had no weapons to speak of. One held a coffee pot as if it were a hammer, but Neil doubted it would do more than knock someone a little aside even if it were full.

"C'mon, c'mon," whispered Shay as if she could keep them from harm if she just willed it hard enough.

They'd made it past and slipped into the stairwell to catch their breath and Neil had started pacing. There was no camera in there. It was where he'd run into Shay in the first place. Calm down, he told himself, there was only the guy from the gift shop in there. We took care of him. Should be clear. He tried to ignore the thought that it had been days ago and anyone could have wandered in by then. It seemed an eternity before the small group emerged again and Neil remembered to breathe as their figures darted past the gift shop, visibly flinching on the screens. The man inside must have spotted them.

"He's locked in," Shay said into the microphone.

One of the people looked up at a camera and nodded.

"Almost there. Maisy should be waiting to let you in. There's no more loose between you and the cafe."

It looked like they'd had to have a negotiation with Maisy once they got to the door of the cafe. He could see them talking through the glass, the one with the coffee pot nervously watching the entrance to the lobby while they discussed it. She'd been lonely on the phone when Shay called her. And frightened. But still reluctant. She'd agreed to open the door, but only to the people she thought weren't sick. The others would have to find somewhere else to go, she'd told Shay. Neil knew once there were more people in the cafe it wasn't going to be Maisy's decision anymore. He watched the discussion at the cafe door, wishing he could hear. After several seconds, the glass door swung open and the people outside darted through.

"That's a relief," sighed Shay. "Wasn't sure she'd actually do it."

"Me either. But I wasn't sure where else to send them if she refused."

"Nowhere. They'd have broken the glass eventually if she didn't let them in. Those people have to be hungry. They weren't going to wait forever."

"Let's not make the rest wait anymore either," he said.

There'd been a few more scattered throughout the ground floor. Two in the blood lab where Neil had met Debbie. He wondered how long they'd been there and if he'd waited a few more hours to leave he could have helped the couple. Five in the conference room where Shay said they'd originally been gathered. One down in the ER that Shay couldn't coax out no matter how much she urged him over the intercom. Neil knew he was sane, at least for now, because he kept taking a few steps toward the hallway and then chickening out and ducking back into the small exam room he'd been hiding in. He'd stood in the doorway and wept for several minutes.

"He's too scared," said Neil at last, "This is just making it worse. I don't think he physically can do it, Shay. His body's just freezing up on him when he tries. Tell him I'll come and get him when we've got the others."

Shay shook her head. "No, remember, no rescue missions. We tell him that, anyone else who's too scared's going to wait for us to come to get them, too. We can't wander the hospital saving people, Neil. We just can't."

"Can't juss leave him there, either. He's healthy. He might be able to help ush if we get him out of there and calm him down."

Again, that strange look of shock and sorrow on Shay's face. She patted his arm. "Shh, it's ok," she told him as if he were a small child. It just confused Neil. "Look, we can tell him the way is clear, all the visible infected are gone, and when he's able to, he can make it to the cafe. If he sticks to the hallway, he should be ok."

"He'ss not going to do it. He'll sstarve first."

"Then you and I will go get him when we're back. We just won't announce it first, ok? You need to take a breath, count to ten."

He was irritated that she seemed to think he was being irrational, but he did as she asked anyway, just to comfort her. Maybe she's the one who's really upset. Maybe she thinks calming me down will help calm her down. He took a long, deep breath. None of this makes any sense anyway. Whole week is like some sick dream. Just stick together. Keep each other safe.

Shay nodded in approval and let him go, turning back to the microphone to tell the frightened man they were moving on.

It was the second floor before they had to watch the first healthy person die. The hallway was relatively lightly populated and it looked like there'd been a recent kill. Four people were lying next to a puddle of blood and gnawed meat. It wasn't even recognizable as having been a person anymore, just a jumble of gristle and yellow fat and shreds of cloth. Neil wished the monitors hadn't shown everything in color.

It was harder to herd the infected on the upper floors, the alarms were less targeted, mostly floor wide. He'd resorted to Harlain's trick, luring them toward the stairwell by looking up phone numbers and letting them ring until the group got close and then moving to the next. It was a tricky process and more than once resulted in a panicked answer from someone inside a patient room instead of allowing it to ring. Convincing each person to hang up, especially once an infected person began pounding on their locked door was not easy. And the infected were still slow and disinterested from their previous meal. A few sprinted toward the sound while others meandered, some other light or sound catching their attention for a moment before turning back toward the ringing phone. It took almost an hour to get them to the stairwell so that Neil could turn the fire alarm back on a floor below and draw them toward the therapy pool. He knew he'd lost several in the stairwell when they didn't emerge onto the ground floor, but at least he had them contained in some fashion. He was glad there was no camera on the stairs. The entrance to the therapy pool was chaotic and he tried not to look as the infected bunched and brawled.

The maternity ward monitor showed the large group of healthy people getting restless, pacing the small nursery and gesticulating wildly as if some of them were arguing. Neil had a feeling they would make a run for it soon if he and Shay couldn't get to their floor first. Everyone's hungry. Probably been living off vending machines and employee break room refrigerators for days. If that. Can't blame them. When the hallway was finally clear, even the last stragglers having wandered into the stairwell, Shay finally announced they'd be unlocking the patient room doors. That's when Neil saw the nurse emerge from beneath the charge desk. She ran straight toward the stairwell.

"Shay! Catch her, tell her not the stairs!" Neil shouted.

Shay fumbled with the microphone. "Other way! Other way!" she yelled. "There're still sick people in that staircase. Other side of the floor!"

The nurse on the screen waved toward the camera, so they knew she had heard, but she didn't slow, skidding through a slippery smear of viscera in front of the first room. She swung the door to the room open and disappeared.

"Shit," swore Shay. But the nurse emerged a minute later, a man hobbling along beside her, one arm slung over her neck. He looked vaguely familiar to Neil.

"I think that was one of the balloon handlers near me at the parade," he said, trying to pick out more details of the distant face.

"Odds are good," said Shay, as the nurse opened a wheelchair near the charge station and sat the man in it. "They evacuated any patients who didn't have contact with your group or they didn't think were sick with the same thing. Most of the staff, too. Just lucky ones, like us, who had to stay once they decided on the quarantine."

The nurse ran back to the second room.

"She's saving them. Or trying to," realized Neil. A few of the farther doors were already opening, people in loose gowns emerging. One held the wheeled end of an iv stand like a baseball bat.

"What happens when she runs into a sick one?"

"You know what happens," said Neil. The nurse emerged again, this time empty-handed. She saw the patients who were able to walk out of their rooms and called to them, motioning for them to stand near the man in the chair and then ducked into the next room. "You think that last one was empty?" he asked.

"She's been stuck up there for days. She knows which rooms are empty already. There was someone in that room. They aren't coming out. We should tell the others to move. If she gets a bad room—"

"Then they're better off together. Five is better than one."

"Most of them are injured," said Shay. "All of em are hungry."

"Yeah, doesn't mean they're useless. We're injured too, still fucking glad I had you with me, beat to hell and all."

Shay clicked the microphone on. "Stick together," she told them. "Just because we cleared the hallway doesn't mean the rooms are safe. And hurry, got five more floors of people waiting. We don't want to risk any of the sick people wandering back along your path."

The small knot of patients glanced up toward the ceiling. The one with the iv stand took a few steps toward the patient room the nurse had disappeared into. He nudged the door farther open and then swung it wide. A cot emerged, the nurse rolling it out. Someone on it thrashed but was obviously restrained.

"She's ssick," realized Neil.

"They're all sick, that's why they're here," said Shay.

"You know what I meant. And she's not a patient. That's a nurse. She's wearing scrubs."

The first nurse had already parked her near the others, who cringed away every time the woman on the gurney strained against the cloth straps.

"You think she means to bring her with the others?" asked Neil.

"Maybe she's just— maybe she just doesn't want her to be stuck in the room. Maybe she thinks she can come back and care for her." But even Shay knew the excuse sounded false. The nurse had disappeared through the next door. The patients were gesticulating wildly to each other. The man with the iv stand shook his head, waved at the woman on the bed. Neil could see the woman's hands now, encased in bandages. She struggled against the restraints, her back arched, trying to launch herself from the bed. It rolled slightly as she collapsed again and her head whipped toward another woman who approached to set the gurney lock more firmly.

"Oh Jesus," gasped Shay, but the patient retreated without being bitten. The nurse emerged again, empty-handed. She turned toward the next door, but the man with the iv stand caught her. He waved at the woman on the gurney again, shook his head. The nurse put her fists on her hips, her face a scowl. They were obviously yelling. The man with the iv stand gestured up toward the ceiling.

"What's he doing?" asked Neil.

"Trying to talk some sense into her, maybe," said Shay. She clicked the microphone on. "You can't bring her. Maisy won't let you in. She's safer in her room."

The nurse below shook her head. She tapped her chest and said something. The man with the iv stand had reddened. It looked like he might be shouting. She shoved him. The woman who had locked the gurney walked out of the frame.

"Where's she going?" asked Neil, trying to catch her on another feed. He gave up after a second. "Tell them they've got to move. They can't stand there arguing about it all day. If the nurse won't leave her friend, then the others should get to the cafe without her."

Shay clicked the microphone on again. The nurse and the man with the iv stand stopped arguing for a moment, staring at the ceiling as Shay relayed the message. So they didn't see the other woman walk back toward the gurney behind them. Neil watched her as she appeared back on the screen. There was a bright red extinguisher in her hands. She was weak. Neil watched her put it down just beside the gurney and take a few breaths. The others went back to arguing, the man in the wheelchair joining them. It looked as if he were taking the nurse's side, just from the way he positioned himself, but Neil couldn't be sure. The woman beside the gurney picked up the fire extinguisher again. She yanked on the neck of the extinguisher. The others still hadn't noticed. The woman on the gurney whipped her head side to side, her hair swinging over her face in long clumps. The woman with the extinguisher put it on the gurney, letting it rest there while she caught the infected woman's head and shoved the extinguisher's hose between rapidly snapping teeth.

"Oh, God," breathed Neil, realizing what she was about to do. Shay was still staring at the others arguing. He could almost hear the loud burst of air in his mind as the woman pulled the extinguisher's trigger. She held on for several seconds before releasing the infected woman's head and the trigger and sitting suddenly down beside the gurney as the extinguisher rolled away. The clang as it hit must have been what made the others turn toward them. The face of the woman on the gurney was covered in white powder, her mouth open as wide as it would go. The nurse dashed toward her, glanced down at the other woman and then back at her suffocating friend. She turned to the man with the iv stand and said something. He stared, motionless, at the woman on the gurney. The nurse said something and pointed frantically, before leaning over to wipe the dust from her friend's face. She was blocking Neil's view and he couldn't see what else she was doing. She looked over her shoulder to the man again, who just shook his head.

"I don't understand," said Shay as the nurse gave up on getting help from the man and sprinted toward the charge desk.

"She made a decision," said Neil, pointing to the woman who still sat beside the gurney. Her expression was calm. "She killed the other nurse so that her friend didn't have to decide between going to the cafe and abandoning her or staying and getting attacked eventually."

The nurse was back with a bag valve mask, fitting it over her friend's face. The woman on the gurney had gone motionless. The woman with the extinguisher stood up, said something to the others. They headed for the next patient room and disappeared off the screen as they reached the edge of the camera's range. Shay stared at the nurse's back while she tried to revive her friend.

"This is hell," she muttered. And then it got worse. The nurse's head snapped around in the direction the others had gone. She stared for a second.

"Find the other feed!" cried Neil. "Find them!"

Shay fumbled with the camera buttons, flashing through other floors and empty hallways in different wings.

"There! There!" he shouted as he caught a glimpse of the iv stand handle being waved like a bat. Shay clicked through a few more buttons before returning to the right one. It was further down the hall. Neil could see the red of the fire extinguisher where it had rolled, though the gurney was out of view. The man in the wheelchair was still in the hallway but the others were just inside the doorway of a patient room. The woman who had used the fire extinguisher was in the grip of someone behind her, her front was a sheet of red, except for her face which was ashen, her eyes rolled up, only the whites showing. Neil couldn't even tell where the wounds were. The man with the iv stand whacked the pole ineffectively against the person holding her and shouted. The nurse did not come running. The man in the wheelchair tugged on the other man's arm.

The woman slumped and whoever was hanging onto her toppled. The man with the iv stand tried to follow them, reaching to grab the woman, but the man in the wheelchair pulled hard and prevented him. He looked back and said something. The man in the wheelchair shook his head, pointed toward the elevator. The nurse appeared again, her hands covered in white dust. She was serene walking to the room where the others were. She nudged the man with the iv stand clear of the door, leaned in and shut it firmly, closing the other woman and her attacker in. Then the nurse wiped her hands on the pants of her scrubs and grabbed the handles of the wheelchair, pushing it toward the elevator.

"What I said before, about how we were saving people? About how the sick people would want us to help them even if it means they die? I was wrong. That was cold-blooded murder. Those two didn't have an excuse. I can't do this," said Shay as the three of them disappeared into the elevator.

"We have to. I can't make you. Wouldn't even if I could. But I really don't want to do thish alone."

Shay looked up at the flickering screens. "There's so many," she said, raking her hand through her hair.

"No— look, that whole half is this wing. No one's locked in over here. We saw who was left on the first and third floor. That group in the maternity ward can pick up any stragglers farther below. There are enough of them to handle any stray sick people. Looks like they cleared anything that might have been on their floor already. And then we'll go. Once we— once we deal with Dante, we should be clear." His voice broke. He tried to push aside the dread. "We just have a few more floors. No idealistic nurses on the next one, it was mine. We draw away the infected, the ress are on their own. After that—"

"Let me catch a breath, Neil," said Shay. "If you want me to keep helping, you have to let me focus on one crisis at a time. Okay?"

"Yeah, yeah, we can do that. One floor at a time."

"Good," she said. She watched the elevator open on the first floor and the man with the iv stand lean out to look. A few minutes later, they were speeding toward the cafe. She reached for the microphone. "If— if I get sick before you, don't use an extinguisher, ok? That looked painful. Find a— I don't know. You can use an extinguisher, just not that way. Knock me out. Fast."

"Neither ush are going to get sick. Going to get outta here, reshcue our kidss."

"Yeah," said Shay softly. "Yeah, course we are. But just in case."

"Okay. No fire 'stinguisher. You got it."

She clicked the microphone on.

32

Neil was exhausted. He thought about asking Shay if they could stop and sleep again before leaving. He felt— slow, disconnected. Clumsy. But she'd only tell him he was stalling. Trying not to face Dante yet. He supposed that he was. He watched his friend pace outside the door. Every so often he'd tip off-kilter and catch himself against the glass. Maybe they could wait until he slept and just— sneak by. He'll starve, Neil reminded himself. He couldn't fool himself into thinking there'd be a rescue mission to save them all. Not anymore. A month. Maybe he'll make it. What's that rule? Three days without water, three weeks without food— or was it months? Those rugby kids lived for ages, didn't they? Dante stood still in front of the door, his breath making little plumes of fog against the glass. His eyes never seemed to fix on anything for long, not even his own reflection.

"He's not in there anymore," said Shay, startling Neil. "Whatever was— him is asleep or gone. Same with Cody. He knew that part of him was leaving. He even told us. The fight outside the elevator, that was it, that was the last of him. I think it might be the same with your friend."

"But if he could make it until we found a cure—"

"He won't."

"Twenty-eight days. He can make it that long. We could just leave him here and as soon as they lift the quarantine—"

"They aren't going to. Harlain said twenty-eight days after the last time someone was infected. Unless his body somehow fights this off— he'll still be infected in twenty-eight days. And that's the other thing. We don't even know how this disease ends. Maybe in a week, it'll kill him."

"Maybe in a week, he'll reach a turning point and get better," said Neil.

"Maybe," Shay agreed. "If you were him, would you want to wake up here in a week? Starving? Alone? What if he ate someone already? Would you want to wake up to that?"

"I— he has a son. He'd want to get better for Tommy's sake."

"He'll end up in some kind of institution or prison. His son won't see him. Even if he was willing to try, knowing what his father had done."

"We don't know that."

"Doesn't matter, Neil. He's not going to last that long. The only people who will last the week are the ones we sent to the pool. Or the one we locked in the bathroom, if he's still smart enough to drink the water from the toilet. Haven't seen a single one that I think would turn on a sink. The most complex thing I've seen them do is to turn a doorknob. I'm not even sure they realize when they're thirsty— they don't seem to feel pain. Or— not the way we do. Remember that woman who slammed into the wall? I don't know if you cure that. It might be like a stroke. Once they're gone... maybe they're gone for good. Your friend's going to die of dehydration in a day or two. It depends on how long it's been since he found some water. Or got some from eating."

"Iss it— iss it a painful way to die?" asked Neil. Dante shuffled back to the other side of the hallway.

"Don't know. Not a doctor, remember? But like I said, they don't really seem to feel pain except as an annoyance. Or— it doesn't slow them down at least."

"Cody did. He was crying while I tried to bandage his hands. He couldn't sstop, but it hurt."

"Because there was still some of him left at that point. Look— take your time and make a decision. I'm not going to force you. But you and I are planning on leaving this hospital, right? I know you don't want to be responsible for what happens to him. And in a way, you aren't. It wasn't you who infected him. It wasn't even you who let him out of his room to chase us here. But in another— what happens to Dante after we leave this room is solely our fault. We can wait until he tires himself out or wanders away and we can hope that he somehow survives and whatever stuff he goes through between now and getting better doesn't hurt him too much. Or we can decide that he is in pain, whether it's really slowing him down or not, and we can end his suffering. And next week, find out we made the wrong choice. But either way, we can't save him. It's not going to be us who cures him. So you need to think—" She stopped, turned to fully face him. She grabbed his uninjured hand and squeezed it. "You really need to think, Neil. If you had switched places, what would you want him to do for you?"

When he didn't answer, she let him go. "Think about it a while. There's a vending machine in the little kitchen here. We don't stock this office, but I'm sure some of the guards left lunches or snacks or something. You have to be as hungry as I am by now."

Neil nodded absently as she wandered away. He sat for what felt like a long time on the edge of the front desk, just watching Dante. He was still now, just swaying unevenly on his feet. Neil wondered if it were one of the stages they went through or if it just meant Dante was getting tired. It wasn't only the idea of killing his friend that caused Neil such dread, it was Graziella and Tommy he kept coming back to. If they were switched, if it were Neil who was ill, what would Dante have done about Randi? About Joan? What could Neil possibly tell them? Hi, kiddo. Your dad was off his rocker, bud. Had to do it. Had to put him down like a horse with a broken leg. Sorry, Gracey. He was no good to anyone. You wouldn't have wanted him back, trust me. There was no way he could do this. It didn't matter that Dante had probably killed that nurse in his room. Maybe more people since. Didn't matter that he might starve in a few weeks. Right now, there was still a chance that he'd come back. And Neil could help him deal with what had happened once he did. Dante would get through it— a stray thought abruptly cut through. Too late to change what happened to the people he's already attacked, sure, but what about the ones he might kill next? Wouldn't just be putting him out of his misery, you'd be saving all the people he would have killed in the meantime. Neil's mind felt slow, erratic, almost jerky. He knew there was an answer to that question, it just took a while to formulate it. Like it had taken a while for the question to pop up in the first place. He was frustrated and irritated with the decision. Shouldn't even be me making it. Where are all the fucking doctors? Where are the big disease experts? The clean, quiet, shiny quarantine wards? Why the hell were we left like this? All wrong. All wrong. He felt like hitting something, as stupid as he knew that it was. Nothing and no one to hit. No real reason to, even if there was someone there. It was no one's fault. The people in charge just got caught unprepared and were overwhelmed. That's all. But Neil knew that was bullshit, too. It was one thing to make a mistake or be taken by surprise. But not sending more help? That was an entirely different thing. It's Harlain, that's who I want to hit. Or whoever's above her making the decisions. At least she's got a name and a voice, so Harlain'll do. Besides which, she just— dropped us. We did what she wanted and she just disappears. Leaves me to kill my best friend. Or not. I could just send him to the pool. Did it for all the others, why couldn't I just use the alarms to send Dante? But Neil knew why. It was because he knew what was happening down there in the therapy pool. If he sent Dante there, he'd be part of the carnage. Already a murderer, he told himself and clutched his head with a low sob.

"Neil? You still— you?" asked Shay. He jerked around to look. Her arms were full of flimsy chip pouches and a few cans of soda, but it looked like she was ready to drop it all and sprint away from him. For an instant he wondered what he'd done to terrify her, but then his mind repeated the idea that he was a murderer.

"Dante and thoshe people we sssent to the pool, they didn't do anything wrong. Jush ssick. Where the hell iss Harlain? Who decided to abandon ush? Thiss normal?"

Shay dropped her armload onto the desk beside him. "No. At least, I don't think so. I've never heard about people just being— left like this. Something outside has gone really, really wrong. This isn't what's supposed to happen. The government expects us to die. All of us. Otherwise, they'd be worried about the news getting out. That's why they took down Cody's footage. I think— I think Harlain believed what they told her. That we would just wait it out and walk out of here in a month. That they're going to send food drops. I hope she believes it. But I don't. Maybe there was some kind of— of plan to save us in the beginning but not anymore. We were dead the minute the security team lost control in the conference room. At some point, they'll send someone in to finish it. Or start a fire. Or something."

"That's crazy, Shay. Consspiracy junk. Bad as Maisy and her zombie flick ideas."

"I hope so," she said. "I hope I'm wrong. For Harlain's sake too. I'm worried they caught her, Neil. Just letting us talk to our kids... She should have tried to contact us again by now. Either she just got what she wanted and doesn't have to watch us die for now, or something happened to her for helping us." Shay shook her head sadly. She stared out at Dante who rocked gently from one foot to the other. "Whatever the truth is, from here on, we're on our own. So is your friend. You need to end this, for his sake. Otherwise, he is going to wander and starve until someone else kills him. Don't you think he'd rather it be you?"

"I can't," cried Neil. "No more killing."

Shay sighed but just said, "Okay. We'll wait for him to fall asleep then." She plopped down into the desk chair beside his and reached for a bag of chips. "Could use the rest anyway," she admitted. "I think we were moving people for almost eight hours."

"Thass it? You aren't going to argue with me more about it?"

"He's your friend. And a human being. You have hope for him. I don't. Doesn't mean either of us is eager to kill anyone, I just think the outcome's not going to be what you think." She handed him a can of soda. "Here, think you could use the caffeine." She smiled. "Though— if your job's anything like mine, the amount of caffeine in one of these things doesn't even register anymore." She was trying to calm him down, Neil could tell. He watched Dante becoming a leaning shadow in the hall as dusk fell. He appreciated the effort, even if he wasn't sure he'd ever be calm again. You shouldn't be, he told himself, murderers don't deserve peace.

"How'd you become friends?" asked Shay.

"We worked at the same shitty little roadside shack that pretended to be a sseafood place. Periwinkle's. First job after high school for me. I think he was kind of traveling around and just kind of— sstuck."

"Not how'd you meet, how'd you become friends?"

"Oh." He could see the younger version of Dante easily, overlapping the slackened face of the man outside. Less stubble and thinner, but not so different then. "It was a fight over a girl." He laughed and flushed. "Not the kind of fight you think," he added. "Dante— is a little too gullible. Twenty-two years and nothing'ss changed. He's still as easy to take advantage of now as he was then. There was this waitress. Never had enough money to cover the end of the month. She wasn't a great waitress either, sho her tips weren't great, but Periwinkle's was— it was bad. Cheap. Owner used to make us cut the sscallops in half before breading them to make it look like more. That kind of cheap. Every two months or so, payroll was short on top of it all. Waitstaff got the shaft, not gonna lie. There was nothing we could really do though. Everyone working there desperately needed that job, sho we bit our tongues and took the shortages until we found other work. We covered each other, besht we could. Cooks would loan the waitstaff money to cover bills until the paychecks cleared and then the waitstaff would catch ush with a couple twenties when they had a decent tip night. It all washed out, generally. But Tracy was alwayss short. Paid her rent a few times, knowing I'd never get it back. But by the time Dante started there, I knew better. She played it ssafe the first month he was there, feeling him out. One night, end of shift, Dante 'n I were sitting at the prep table waiting for the las' dishes to come back so we could finish. Tracy comes in from her fourth or fifth smoke break and starts complaining 'bout how she needs a phone but she doesn' have good credit. Jus' needs a friend to cosign for her. Thing is, everyone knew she wasn't good for it. Even Dante by then, probably. But I can feel him next to me sort of tensing up, cringing, you know? How you do when you hear someone's sad sstory and all you want to do is fix this thing for them. And I knew, I knew he was going to tell her he'd cosign for her. So I kicked him under the table where she wouldn't be able to see. Heard him take a breath like he was getting ready to say something. So I kicked him again, harder. He did it anyway. Ssucker." Neil shook his head and smiled. "Asked him why, later. Told him she'd never pay her bill and he'd be sstuck with whatever charges she racked up. And he just shrugged and tol' me that if he was in a tough spot like that, he'd want someone to help him, so how could he say no? Tracy quit Periwinkle's the next week. I forgot about the whole thing until winter. Came in one morning and found Dante ssleeping in his car. Turned out Tracy had racked up an enormous bill and disappeared with the phone. Dante hadn't been able to make rent for two months trying to pay the damn thing off and got evicted. Never said a word about it until that morning. We had a huge fight about it. I called him gullible and as bad as Tracy because he was jus' helping her scam more people later on. Ssuch a sstupid fight. Always regretted yelling at him like that. Always. Finally had my say out and he did his share of shouting, too. Told me I was a selfish asshole for not helping her. Got it all out and did our shift together. When it was over, I brought him to my parents' house to stay and we've been friends since. I'll never forget what he ssaid, though, when I asked him what on earth he was thinking, agreeing to help her after he'd been warned. He ssaid, 'I did a kind thing. What she did afterward don' make the thing I did any less kind. If I didn't help her, I knew I'd have to live with that. It's easier to ssleep in the car with a clear conscience than in a shitty apartment thinking about all the times I should have helped and didn't.' I can't kill him, Shay. I can't. I tried to convince myself, but his sson and his wife— I've known Graziella longer than I knew my own wife. How could I do that? Tol' myself he might kill other people if I let him go. It's like those awful puzzles your hisstory teacher gives you about how you treat prisoners of war. Except this one's not on paper or a film sstrip. Don't have the suppliess or time to feed him and care for him, so I can't lock him up. If I kill him, he's got no hope at all. And if I let him go, he might attack ssomeone else. I can't even explain to him or make him promise not to hurt anyone if I leave him. So I think I'm going to lean on what he ssaid one more time. I need to do whass kind. I have to let him go and hope. He's as far from the pool as we can make it. The hallways are clear for now, far as I know. You're right, I'm not gonna be able to ssave him. But I don' have to condemn him, either."

Shay played with her soda can tab for a minute. "Neil," she said, "You are condemning him, just to a different type of death."

"Yeah, maybe. Or maybe things ousside aren't as bad as you think."

"This is me, kicking you under the table. You understand?"

"I get it. But if we survive this, whether or not Dante does, I know I'll ssleep better knowing it wasn't me that killed him."

They watched Dante finally flop to the floor. He sat, dazed and staring at the fading light from the windows down the hallway for several minutes. Neil thought he looked a lot like Tommy.

"Come on," said Shay, tapping his shoulder. "We should go shut off the cameras. It's going to take him a little longer to fall asleep, I'd guess, we've got time."

"Why would we do that?"

"Because Harlain's gone quiet, but that doesn't mean nobody's watching. It's Cody's phone all over again. We have to get out of here. To do that, we've got to set up some kind of distraction and we need to make sure they don't know what's coming beforehand."

33

Shay frowned as they clicked off the last camera.

"What is it?" asked Neil.

"Kind of hoped the phone would start ringing as soon as we started turning these off. I really wanted to be wrong about Harlain and whoever's in charge out there now. I can't imagine they're too happy with being blinded." She ducked below the security desk, crawling into the leg space. "Maybe they're still broadcasting. Maybe we just turned it off on our end."

"You know about how thish stuff works?" asked Neil.

"Not a thing. You?" She started yanking on cords.

"Nope. You could jus' be unplugging thish console you know."

"I know," she grunted, twisting in the cramped space to follow another cord. "But I don't have any other ideas. Just wish we knew one way or another, so we could be ready."

"Wouldn' change anything. We've got one way out of here— if we're lucky."

"Yeah, well, I'm still willing to try, even if the cameras are still on, but I don't know if the others would be. Don't know anything about any of them yet, except Maisy. And I'm not sure we'll ever convince her not to just stay put."

"So we tell them what we know. I didn't see any kidss on those screens, thank God. Let 'em decide for themselves." He reached down to help her up.

"Are you— are you ready to go?" she asked him.

"If he's asleep."

Shay picked up the thick vest lying nearby and slid it on, wincing as the fabric rubbed past a bite mark on her left arm. "Still think we should take the pepper spray."

"You said you didn' think they felt pain. Or that if they did, it wasn't sslowing them down. Pepper spray's not going to work. Or thesse, honestly." He gripped the end of the baton on his belt anyway.

"Yeah, well, everything else is locked up tight. Tried every damn key on Cody's ring but none of them fit. Until we find a security guard, we're not likely to get into those cabinets."

"I'm not complaining. Our bess bet is running anyway," he said.

"I'm about out of steam, Neil. Don't know how much longer I'm going to be able to run without a real rest. And some solid food."

They walked out to the front of the security office. It was no longer dusk, the wing was fully dark and Neil could barely make out the slumped shape of Dante outside the doors.

"Flashlights or risk the overhead lights?" asked Shay.

"Overhead lights. Might wake some of them up, but I'd rather ssee what's coming at us."

Shay flipped the lights on in the security office. The hallway was still dark, but some light spilled into the area just outside the glass windows. Dante was asleep on his side, his knees curled into his belly, one hand stuck in his mouth. If there hadn't been so much blood staining the hospital johnny, Neil might have thought he looked peaceful. Familiar. Dante after a few too many beers. Or that night before his wedding. Or the morning after Tommy was born, asleep in the hospital chair beside his wife. His other hand lay in front of him, fingers so chewed they looked like raw hamburger.

"I can't leave him like this."

"You changed your mind?" asked Shay.

"No, I mean— his hands. That has to hurt. Maybe iss not preventing him from injuring himself more, but I have to think it hurts. I can't jus' see that and do nothing."

"He's not going to sit still and let you patch him up. He's not where Cody was. We have to go before he wakes up. Or else we're going to have to hurt him ourselves to get away." She waited but Neil was uncertain what to say. "I'm going to open the door now," she said. "And then I'm going to walk as quietly as I can to the stairwell. I hope you're behind me, but I'm not going to look. Or stop. Understand?"

"I unnerstand," said Neil, trying not to stare at his friend. Hang on, Dante. Just hang on until I can find help, he willed even while he knew it was impossible. The door clicked as it opened. Some sensor no doubt. He could see Shay visibly freeze at the slight sound. But Dante didn't stir. She stepped out and turned left. Her body was rigid. Neil thought his probably was as well. He followed her, fighting the urge to glance back at his friend. Their footsteps echoed and Shay sped up. It's not so far, Neil told himself, even as he struggled to keep his breath smooth, terrified the sound of it would wake Dante. Or anyone else they'd missed. A few dozen more feet. The glow of the street lamps in the parking lot was visible through the window at the end of the hall. He wished he could stop to look. Except for watching a few seconds of snowfall, he hadn't had a real glimpse of the world outside since he escaped his room. Even the courtyard had been blocked. Did anyone care that there were people alive here? Was Shay right? Did they even know? The urge to run to the window was a weird impulse and he quickly shoved it aside.

A phone rang behind them and Neil felt an electric spike of fear in every joint. Shay glanced back as the phone rang again. She grabbed his arm and wrenched him forward. He could hear rustling behind them and a low, vibrating growl that bounced off the narrow walls of the corridor. Another ring from the phone. Neil hoped it was in the security office. Shay started running, her grip a bony claw around his wrist. The stairwell door slammed open and they were already halfway to the next landing before she loosened her hand, mostly because he was tumbling down steps and dragging her with him.

They careened into the cinder block wall. Neil couldn't catch himself and ended up on his back at the bottom of the flight. He'd banged his right arm several times on the way down and it was a throbbing flare. Shay tried to haul him onto his feet. She said something to him, glancing back up the stairs, but he couldn't hear her. All he could concentrate on was the lack of his own breath and the ache of his arm. She shoved at him, trying to force him to move and he crawled toward the next set of steps, trying to suck in air that didn't seem to be there. Everything hurt and his heartbeat sounded like the whoosh of a helicopter blade in his head. He gasped and finally managed a great gulp of air. He slid down the remaining steps. Shay swung the door to the second floor open too wide in her panic and it hit the wall with a bang. Neil dragged himself up as she darted into the second-floor corridor. Rapid footsteps echoed on the stairs below and he slid in through the crack before the door swung shut again. Shay shoved him against the hallway wall and clapped a hand over his mouth. Something thudded nearby and she flinched.

The pounding footsteps in the stairwell got louder and then stopped abruptly. Neil could hear the rasp of his breath against Shay's palm. He strained to hear anything else. The phone upstairs, Dante's growl, movement outside the door, but everything was silent. His right arm crackled with pain, as if he'd had a sudden severe shock from an electrical socket. He wanted to hold it tight with his other hand, maybe it would stop the crunching misery for a second. But he didn't dare move even that much. The window to the stairwell beside him darkened. Neil could see the change in the light from the corner of his eye, but couldn't risk turning his head to see what had caused it. You know what it is, he reminded himself. Infected person. Don't need to look. He shut his eyes. His breath was humid against his chin and Shay's hand was damp. She didn't pull it away, though he knew it must be uncomfortable. And there was no way she could think he'd make a noise now. It seemed an eternity that they stood like that, in the dark hall of the second floor, backs pressed against the cool wall, concentrating on the way his breath wouldn't slow down and the jagged thumping pain that ran from his wrist to his jaw. Then the bang of footsteps running again, this time up and away until they faded into stillness again. Neil hoped they hadn't run into Dante. Shay pulled her hand away from his mouth. "Shorry," he whispered, "I thought we got them all, except around the elevator downstairs."

"We knew we'd lose some on the stairs," she whispered back, "I just thought we'd have time to look before running down them. Of course, I expected Harlain to call sooner."

"You think it wass her?"

"Who else? Come on, we don't want them coming back. We'll have to cross to the other wing and use those stairs instead. And hope."

Another burst of agony washed over Neil and he immediately grabbed his arm. It was a mistake. The pain intensified so much, that he thought he might lose consciousness and let go to brace himself.

"Shit," said Shay, noticing. "What is it? Where?"

"Think I broke my arm, falling down the stairs," he said, once he was certain he wasn't going to faint and topple to the floor. "I'll be okay," he told her. "Don't leave me behind. Or— or shove an extinguisher in my mouth."

Shay looked distinctly troubled. "I didn't leave you back there, did I? Broken arm's not going to be the last straw. We need to get you back to the cafe. That nurse can help. Maybe there's a doctor in there too. At least get something for the pain. Debbie had a whole bunch of stuff in those bags."

She wrapped an arm around his waist as if it were his leg that was broken instead of his arm. Neil didn't stop her. Right then, he badly needed a friend. Just someone to walk with him through the near-empty hospital until they were out of this.

"Wait," he told her as she pulled him away from the stairwell. "I want to see ousside."

"Why? We need to go, Neil."

"I know, I know, but we should know how the perimeter is covered. Maybe they've moved people or maybe there's more of them now. If we're going to get out of here, we at least should have an idea of what we're walking into."

It really was stupid. He needed some relief. They both needed to eat. They needed sleep and safety and other people. But he was convinced if they could see where the soldiers were, they'd be able to find a hole. "Be easier to ssee now, anyway," he told her, "They have to have it all lit up. During the day, it'd jus' blend in. I'd miss patrol spots or something."

The snow was the first thing he noticed. Four or five inches blanketing the parking lot, piling on the top of the large military trucks at the edge.

"You'd think they'd plow it," said Shay.

"Why? The hospital's empty."

"Yeah, but they've still got their trucks to move around. I mean, I know some of them would be fine but you'd think if they needed to get more in quickly or there was a fire or something— and look, they must have closed the road off partially too. Why isn't that plowed at least?" She pointed to a smooth ribbon of road that glowed a soft gold in the circles of street lamps. Not only was the road covered, but there were also no banks on either side to show it had at least been plowed a few times recently. It was flat, the way a trail in the woods would be after snow. Lost and forgotten.

"Maybe the storm jus' passed," said Neil.

Shay shook her head. "There'd be snow on the tree branches. They're all bare. This snow is hours old. Maybe days."

"I was making a ssign when that policeman ran into my room. On a sheet. There were people, lots of people on the edge of the parking lot then. I thought if they saw, they might help. That maybe they didn't know we were sstill in here."

"The public's probably been told we were all evacuated or something. They might have cleared the area and shut down the road to keep anyone from seeing anything through the windows. You can't be the only one who thought of trying it."

"Maybe you were— maybe there's ssomething to what you ssuspected, but that still doesn' explain why it's sso— motionless. Where are the soldiers? How come there'sh no footprints anywhere? If they wanna keep ush in, why aren' they watching?"

"On the other side, maybe? Up until a few minutes ago, they had eyes on everyone— or almost everyone in here. Why waste men patrolling when they can just wait until they pick us up on camera close to an exit? Bet they're flipping out now. That was definitely Harlain on the phone. Or whoever's in her spot now. She's probably trying the cafe."

"Seems kind of shloppy not to have people there just in case of something like this."

"Has anything about this past week seemed well organized to you, Neil? Because it seems to me that 'sloppy' has summed up the entire thing, start to finish. Hospitals aren't supposed to work like this. Not even with a crazy disease. We get people with contagious diseases here all the time. Our staff knows how to handle it. We get homicidal people in here pretty often, too. And people in the middle of breakdowns or not thinking very clearly. The hospital stays open, fully staffed. People don't get trapped inside it. Patients aren't allowed to tear each other apart while someone outside watches on CCTV. Something's wrong. Out there. Way worse than what's going on in here. They aren't telling us something. Anything. Maybe they made it. The military, I mean. Maybe this disease was supposed to be some kind of weapon. Or maybe it's something that some terrorist got a hold of and they thought we were the only ones exposed—"

Neil shook his head. "Then it's a shloppy cover up too. There are dozenss of people in here. We have families and coworkers and friendss. You think the people who care about ush won't come looking for answers? Even if we don't make it out of here, they're going to start asking. Maybe you're right. Maybe ssomething's gone wrong. Maybe a misstake. That would make ssense. I think thish is pure panic. SStupid and sscared's way more fatal than most evil is."

Shay patted his back where her arm sat. "Come on. There's no reason to look anymore. This side is clear. When we come out of the maintenance tunnels, we'll swing right toward this lot and hopefully be long gone by the time anyone notices. If we want to survive this, we just have to be smarter and less scared than they are. Let's get to the cafe. Fix our wounds. Talk with the people who are there now. Eat. Plan. We're not getting out of here by staring out a window."

34

The cafe's plate-glass windows had been barricaded with several tables turned on their sides and the couches from the hospital lobby. The lights were on and there were two people standing just outside the door. They both had fire axes ready as Neil and Shay approached.

"Concentrate on your feet. Don't trip, whatever you do," murmured Shay to him. "And let me do the talking for now."

"What? Why on earth—"

"You're exhausted and in pain. I don't want them to think you're sick just because you're clumsy or you take too long to answer a question."

"You're tired and in pain too."

"Don't have a broken arm," she said. "Just— let me do this, okay?"

"Okay." Neil thought it was a little clingy, the way she insisted, the way she slowed her pace to his. He hadn't stumbled since— well, there was the staircase. And once in the second-floor hallway. Maybe he was more tired than he thought. But taking too long? He'd been normal, hadn't he? Had he stared out the window too long? Was it when they were guiding people to the cafe? When had he taken too long?

"You awake?" asked one of the people outside the door when they were still halfway across the lobby. The man's grip tightened around the red handle of the ax.

"We're healthy," said Shay.

"You don't look so healthy. What about your friend here?"

"He's fine."

"Oh yeah? Why doesn't he say so?"

"Because I'm not. Beat to shit," spat Neil. "Ssaving your ass. You're welcome, by the way."

The woman's face lit up. "It was you, you two were the ones in the security office?"

The man beside her nudged her with his elbow. "He slurred, Bessie."

"He didn't. Relax," the woman told him.

"He did, I heard it. We should make him do the test."

"He's just tired. Me too. And we're in pain and hungry. Let us get some rest and you'll see."

"Sorry, lady, Toby says we can't risk the conference room happening again. Even for you two."

"This is ridiculous! None of you would even be down here if—"

"Whass the test?" asked Neil, mostly to calm Shay down. He realized he hadn't said it as clearly as he meant to and a wave of horror washed over him.

"It's a coordination test. And there's a little bit of a physical, too. The sick ones bite themselves. Gotta check you for bite marks."

Shay burst into a laugh. "Man, we're covered in bite marks. How are you going to tell if we bit ourselves or someone else got us? Because that's what happened. You don't think we looked like this on the way up the stairs to help you guys, do you?"

"Well, I— I guess you were probably in better shape a few hours ago," admitted the man.

"Let 'em in, Gary. Neither of them is stumbling or staring into space," said Bessie.

"But Toby was very clear—"

"Look, we're not infected, ok?" Shay's voice had a panicked edge to it. Neil's stomach felt too tight at the sound of it. "We're just exhausted. He's sleepy is a—"

"Less jus' take it, Shay. We'll jus' take this test. We both know we aren't sick, so less take it, show 'em," he said, half to stop her voice from spiraling higher into that dreadful fear note and half because he suddenly wasn't so certain.

She hesitated. "Whatever their test is, it's half-assed. Doesn't prove anything. They could just throw us out based on some stupid—"

"You promised to tell me Shay. You swore you wouldn' let me bring anything out to Randi."

"And if I'm ever— convinced that you're infected, I'll tell you."

"Been sslurring haven't I? Noticing it now. How long have I been doing it?"

"I don't know," Shay admitted. "But it doesn't prove you're sick. People slur for lots of reasons. We're wiped out. Just need some sleep."

Bess and Gary glanced at each other.

"When'd you notice, Shay?" Neil asked. "Maybe you don' know when it sstarted, but you know when you noticed."

"Look, you're in shock. Probably me too. We can splint your arm, that nurse we helped can do it. Eat something. Then we can talk about this— idiot test."

Gary nudged Bess's elbow. "Better get Toby out here," he muttered.

"When'd you notice?" Neil insisted.

"The pharmacy, I guess," said Shay. "I was— I would have told you when I was sure. I'm not sure Neil. You don't just blurt something like that out when you aren't completely positive."

"But that wass— two or three days ago now. When Cody was still— sane. Alive."

"Yeah. And we've been a little busy since then. I didn't really have much time to stop and watch you. Didn't really want to, either."

"So less be sure. Take the test. Don' wanna walk out of here if I should be in. Don' wanna bring thish anywhere else. Do you?"

"No. But I also don't want to be shut out here with the crazies to starve until one of 'em gets me either."

"We aren't assholes," snapped Gary. "It's not like we're just going to leave you. Sick people go to the staff lounge down the hall. Plenty of food and we'll send a team to check on them every few hours."

"Check on them and do what exactly? Clean up the carnage? Shoot whoever's left? Decide who gets shoved out into the hallway or down to the pool?" snapped Shay.

"N— no, I didn't mean—"

"Of course you didn't. You just push them out and then they have to deal with each other themselves. You never have to make a hard decision at all, do you? Never have to get your hands dirty or worry about falling asleep or—"

"How many are there now?" interrupted Neil. "How many already ssick?"

"Seven," said a man emerging from the cafe. It was the policeman who had been with the group in the maternity ward. "But we'll do the test again on the rest of us tomorrow. And the next day. And as long as we're here. I have no doubt the number will grow."

"Yeah? And what happens if you start slurring next round? Are they going to boot you out too? If they're willing to do this to us, then they'll do it to you, too," snapped Shay.

"Toby— these are the people who were in the security room," said Gary.

"I recognized her voice. And to answer your question, they won't have to boot me. If I show symptoms, I'll go willingly. If I get sick, I'm already doomed. Why would I want to drag anyone else with me? They can't help me. There's no medicine to treat this or therapy to slow it. Once I'm sick, the only thing I can do is infect someone else."

"He'ss right, Shay," said Neil. "We both know it. Cody knew it, too. If I'm ssick, I don't want to bring it to Randi. Or anyone else. No matter— no matter whass going on out there. Don't— don't particularly want to get eaten alive, either though."

"No," said Toby. "We're working up a crew to take care of that. Your friend in the cafe, Maisy— she said you brought back all those medical supplies from the blood lab. Is it clear?"

"It wass, few daysh ago."

"We've got a couple nurses with us. They said there should be some sedatives in the lab. Unless you already cleared it out?"

Neil shook his head. "Had a doctor with ush. She'ss— gone now. She told me the medicine cabinets are 'larmed. We try an' open them without the right code, it'll attract the sick people. So we didn't try."

"Where did you guide the infected to? We only had to deal with a few on the way down."

"Therapy pool. But we didn't get them all there, as you saw," said Shay.

"A few we can deal with. I don't think the alarm will draw them from that far away."

"Who'sh volunteering for this? Let me take a wild guess: the people you already ssent away, right?" asked Neil.

"All of us need that medication. And we need to make certain it gets back here. We can't risk someone reaching their breaking point during the mission, so— no. It will be people from the cafe. Not you two. You've done enough, regardless of what the test results are. We'll make sure you get some treatment for your wounds before anything else is asked of you." He turned to Gary and began giving him some directions.

Shay shook her head. "Fuck this guy, Neil," she whispered. "We don't need him or his little— cult or whatever it is he thinks he's got going on here. We'll go back to the pharmacy. Hole up until—"

"No. We do need them. If you sstill wanna get out of here, we need as many people as we can get. Like Cody ssaid, they'll be more hesitant to shoot if there are loss of ush."

"He's not going to help us. Listen to him. All he cares about is waiting out this quarantine. He thinks the government is still coming to help them."

"Yeah, I know. But give it a few dayss. Things'll change. Harlain will call again. More people get ssick. So less take the test. Get some ssleep and some help. You said we need to rest before we try anyway."

"What if— what if one of us doesn't pass? What if one of us doesn't have a couple of days?"

"Then— iss better if we don't go, right? Better if we sstay and make sure we're clean. If not— Shay, I'm gonna help you get outta here, no matter what. You still have Randi's photo?"

"I've still got it," said Shay. "Cody's too."

"Addresses on the back, Dante's on the back of Randi's photo. You find them. Jus' kids, Shay, jus' babies."

"I know, I know, I swear, Neil. I'll find them. I'll get them out of that place, too."

"So less take the tess then. Get it over with."

"Do we really have to?" Shay turned to Toby, a last desperate plea.

"You do. Unless you'd just like to join him in the employee lounge instead."

She glanced at Neil, who emphatically shook his head. "You have to get out. Sstay with the group. When we're ready, there's a phone. You can check on me if you want. Could really use ssomething for the pain."

"Gary's gone to retrieve the nurse. We aren't— barbarians. We just have to be practical."

"Yet," said Neil. "You aren't barbarianss yet. Give it a day or two and talk to me again. Keep an ear out for a lady named Harlain on the phone. Ask her if they're barbarianss out there yet. Don't think thish is as controlled as they told your team. Shorry, man. Whole thing's been a mess for us all."

"Why do you think it's out of control?" asked Toby.

"Jus' a hunch. You find yoursself on an upper floor again, take a look out an unboarded window. Maybe iss on the television by now. Don' know. You keep someone lissening for that phone. You too, Shay. You find out what you're walking into."

She nodded.

The nurse from the second floor emerged with Gary. She was carrying one of Debbie's large medical bags. Neil again felt sorry for not feeling more grief when he saw the bag. Everything felt so... distant. You didn't know Debbie. Course you aren't going to be overwhelmed with sadness. Horror, sure. Outrage at what those terrified assholes outside did. But you don't know her. She's barely— real to you. The thought disturbed him. He wondered if it were the illness that made him think that way or if he'd always been so— cavalier about someone's death. He wasn't certain which would bother him more.

"Gary tells me it was you two who got us down here," said the nurse, breaking the awful chain of guilt and fear in his head.

"I— I'm shorry. About your friend. It wass too fass to warn you. Thought she picked up the extinguisher to fight off attacks. Not— for that."

The nurse teared up. "It's not your fault. But— thank you, for helping us. I didn't think any of us were going to survive up there. I'm— sorry you've got this too. I— I'm not sure what I can do to help you though."

"My arm'ss not great. Fell down the stairs. Think I ripped some stitches, too," he offered, knowing she had meant about the infection, not his injuries. "But Shay's all bit up. Would you help her firss?"

The nurse shook her head. "She's going to take her test. You and I will go get you some relief, then I'll come back to help her. Don't worry, nobody's going to be in pain for long." She led him down the hallway, Gary beside them, still carrying his ax.

35

Whatever Neil had expected in the employee lounge, it wasn't the panic he saw on the faces of the people inside when the door opened.

"Stay outside," the nurse told Gary.

"But—"

"Stay the hell outside the room. These people have been through enough. Don't need you hulking around with an ax. Nobody's lost it, see?"

He eyed each of them. One woman hid her hands quickly behind her back. Gary was apparently satisfied because he left the room again. Gradually, the other people in the room relaxed and turned back to staring at the silent television that flickered on the wall. Neil glanced at it, seeing a shaky piece of news footage before the nurse motioned for him to sit down on the nearby couch. She started pulling supplies out of her bag and lining up the crinkling, shrink-wrapped pieces beside her.

"Don't know who grabbed all this, but they did a good job choosing. Was it you?"

Neil shook his head. "A doctor named Debbie. And one of your cusstodians. Cody."

"They're not with you?"

"Not anymore. They were— brave. Wish I'd known 'em better."

She nodded. "So were you." She pulled on a pair of gloves. "I don't— have everything I need and I'm not a doctor, but if we immobilize your arm, it should prevent you from knocking it around so it doesn't get worse. It'll have to be the old plaster type cast, I'm afraid. But— in light of— of your condition, that might be for the best."

"Maybe— maybe we should sskip it. Ssave those supplies for someone who'll need them longer than I will," Neil said gently.

"That's not how we make medical decisions here. And even if it were, nothing I've seen has led me to believe this infection is fatal on its own. All we have to do is set you up to survive until help arrives. There will be a cure, I'm certain of it. The news says they've already determined it's a variant of strep bacteria. That's a big step toward figuring out how to kill it. So if we can treat your body's other injuries, you have a good chance of pulling through this."

Neil wanted to believe her, but he wasn't so sure. He could see she needed to believe it, though, so he stayed quiet and let her unbandage his hand and clean it.

"Sstrep? Doesn't that travel through the air?"

The nurse nodded.

"Do they— iss there any way the quarantine worked?"

She glanced up at the television. "I don't know. I hope so," was all she said.

"Are we— prisoners here?" he asked her.

"No," said a man nearby, his eyes still fixed on the television. "We can go where we want. 'cept the cafe with the high and mighty. They're likely to freak out and whack ush with an ax if we get close though. All the easy food'sh here. And company. We might all be losing it, but for now I'd rather sleep knowing ssomeone's watching the door."

Neil groaned when the nurse shifted his arm. She stopped and fumbled with a blister pack of pills. "Here," she said, putting three into the palm of his uninjured hand. "No reason to keep you in pain while I do this. It's not powerful enough to put you out, but it should help some."

The man who had spoken to him got up and went to the sink. He filled a paper cup with lukewarm water and offered it to Neil.

"Whass your story?" he asked while Neil swallowed the pills. The nurse measured some cloth against the length of his arm.

"He's the one who got us all off the upper floors," she said.

"Thought it was a woman's voice," the man answered.

"It wass. I thought she wanted to do it because she didn't want to figure out the alarm controlss but now I think maybe she didn't want you to hear me like thish."

The man nodded. "Well, you got us down here, whass the plan?"

"You so sure there is one?" asked Neil, wincing as the nurse pulled the fabric down his swollen arm.

The woman who had hidden her hands turned around at that. "There muss be. You have to have a plan. Why risk it otherwise?"

"You won't like it. Iss not going to help ush. Not directly. Gonna help the othersh get out. Find our families. Iss the only way."

The nurse shook her head. "That policeman, Toby, he's never going to allow it. His only idea is to sit in that cafe until the quarantine is over."

Neil lifted his chin toward the television where a man in a body length plastic suit and a surgical mask was talking to a reporter. Behind him, another hospital was cordoned off by a line of police cars with flashing lights. "I don' think iss working. Shay thinkss they jus' left ush here to die. No one'ss coming," he said.

"I agree. But Toby won't and the people who were with him are terrified of him. He's not— I don't want you to think he's evil. He hasn't done anything. Barely even raised his voice. But what he represents: normalcy, authority, someone to rescue them— they need that. And if they go against him, they're afraid they'll lose their chance to survive. We'll have to convince him if we want anyone except your friend and me to help."

"Give it a few dayss. They'll run out of hospitals to shut down. And police to keep them that way. If other sstuff don' start happening first. No plow trucks ousside. Shay and I saw from the upstairs windowss. Shay thinks they shut the road down. But the person who helped ush reach you— she was government. Ousside. Haven't heard from her in a while. Starting to think ssomething else is wrong out there."

"Ssome of ush don' have a few days," said the woman who had hidden her hands. "Leas' I don't think we do. Can feel it, like the worsh 'xiety attack ever, creepin' up, sswallowing piecess of me."

"Whass your name?" asked Neil.

"Doesn't matter," cried the woman and burst into tears. Someone nearby, put an arm around her without taking their eyes off the television. Neil could see their fingernails were already bloody.

"Matterss. 'Cause we're going to be heroes, unnerstand?" he pointed to the nurse who was wetting plaster bandages at the sink. "Matterss, she'll remember it. Even if we don't. Even if you don't. Whass your name?"

"Nancy," the woman answered.

"Nancy. You hold on. Won' be long. You know anyone in the cafe?"

"I know Gary. Work together."

"Gary's going to find your family. Isn't that right?"

The nurse nodded. "I'll— I'll look them up myself. Everyone write down your names, your addresses. I'll let them know where you are. I'll find them. They'll come find you and get you out of here. Fight for a cure to get you back."

"Thass right," said Neil, though he didn't believe her. Didn't really have a reason to. Shay, he trusted. The nurse was kind enough, but he'd seen her close another woman into a room with the infected. He knew she'd had reason, but it still troubled him. It didn't matter now. What mattered was keeping these people calm until it was time to rush the barricade. "So you hol' on Nancy. We're gonna get them out to get help. Ssoon. Very ssoon."

36

He woke to the smell of cooking ground beef and struggled to sit up without banging the bulky cast on his arm. The nurse had covered his entire hand with the plaster. She'd said it was to keep the new stitches in place, but Neil knew it was also to keep him from chewing on his fingers, at least on that hand, whenever that stage happened. He was dreading it. He could see others were too, because they obsessively scrubbed their hands. Every few minutes someone was at the sink. They'd run through two bottles of hand sanitizer in the few hours he'd been there and he wondered if it were the same compulsion, just showing up in another way.

"Hungry?" asked Nancy, seeing him sit up.

"Yeah. Haven't had anything ssolid in days."

"I'll make you one, you stay there. Good ol' tv dinner. Don' truss ush not to burn ourselves. Microwave only."

"Honestly, I'm not sure they're wrong. Don't think I'd test out my knife skillss right now," Neil admitted.

"'S better than the nothing we were getting in the patient rooms," said another woman from across the room. "Thank you for getting ush out of there. Would've been an awful way to die."

"Don' know that this way'sh better," grumbled a man, picking at his tray. "Toby says they're getting ush sleeping pills. Is it terrible?" he waved at Neil. "The bitesh. 'S it worsh than knife or a bullet?"

"Dunno. Don't have much experience with bullets. Only experience with knives wass for cooking. It hurt. And sslow. Not the biting, but the pain. Don' go 'way easy."

"You gonna take the pills?"

"No. Gonna flood the perimeter. There'ss soldiers. They'll shoot anyone trying to get out, but ssomeone'ss gotta get outta here. Let people know what happened. Find our familiess. Gonna use who'sh left and break through the quarantine on the pool side. Let the healthy people 'scape through the maintenance tunnel. Distrac' the guardss. 'S why we shut off the cameras."

"There's gotta be dozenss of infected in the pool. You said you sent all of em down there," said Nancy, handing him a limp, gray looking patty of beef surrounded by mush vegetables. Neil thought it smelled like heaven though.

"We did."

"You'll never make it. They'll tear you apart before you get there."

"Maybe. But if we go together, someone'll make it to the door. 'S alarmed. Soon as we push it open, the others should come running, 'ssuming they aren't already chasing. They're sslow. Clumsy. They'll fall or get disstracted by each other."

"So are we. Sslow and clumsy," said the man across the room.

"Yeah, but we sstill have our minds. We still want more than jus' to slaughter and eat. Leas' for now. We do it before we lose that part of us, we can ssave the others. Maybe our families out there. We're dead either way. Might as well make it mean something."

"If they don' wait to catch this themselves," said Nancy.

"They won't. Not all of them. Wait and ssee. 'Nother person gets ssick or Harlain calls or something out there happens, they'll be ready. Meantime, maybe put something else on. Relax if you can. Wish I'd put some mussic on the intercom 'stead of shutting it off. Announcements kept sscaring me though."

"We're dying. How are we supposed to relax?"

"Dunno," admitted Neil. "Jus' know a doctor told me best thing to sslow it down is stay calm. So maybe turn off the news. SStop thinking about this if you can. Lose yourself in something. Puzzle or one of those little games on a phone or book. Anything." He left them to figure it out, desperate to eat the colorless, bland meal he would have scowled at a week ago.

Shay came to see him sometime later. He still hadn't become accustomed to the lack of a window. It made it difficult to keep track of time. He knew his mind was drifting and events, conversations became muddled. The order of things wouldn't stay put. He could see it in the others, the way conversation would slide to a stop and then suddenly start up again when a person realized they'd forgotten to speak. Or when Nancy would stare at the now blank television screen for several long seconds before seeming to shake herself free and return to the novel she'd found in a cupboard. He wasn't sure how long she'd been reading, but she hadn't turned the page more than twice. They all flinched when the door opened though. The lag wasn't in their reflexes, it was purely in how they thought. He found that more depressing than anything else that had happened, and struggled to fight against it.

"You find your friendss?" he asked Shay when she entered. Bessie was the one carrying the ax this time, along with a box of food.

"Some of them," she said.

"Good."

"I could have persuaded them. You should have let me talk."

"No. Would've been harder for e'eryone. The people in the cafe wouldn't have wanted to leave. And the people here wouldn't have wanted to rissk helping."

"They don't want to leave. They're all convinced that someone is coming. I keep telling them, but they don't believe me. They don't believe me about Harlain and they don't believe the news they're seeing— they keep telling me it's just fearmongering. Only a few have begun to think about going. I don't know how long we can wait for the others to come around."

He smiled. "I know you're in a hurry, but I'm okay with not rushing it. 'S gonna happen ssooner or later." His smile collapsed as his chest clenched in a breathless kind of grief. "Wish I could hug her one more time. Ssmell her shampoo. 'S that awful kid sstrawberry kind. And her hand, those damp, sticky little fingers that are always too looshe when we cross a street. Not in ssuch a hurry, Shay."

"I'm so sorry," she said and wiped her own eyes. "I didn't mean it that way."

"I know. I should be in a hurry, though. For her ssake. Two dayss, if things don't collapse by then, we'll go. Should last that long, Cody did. Jus' you and me if we have to."

"Not sure I'll make it through the maintenance tunnel if it's just me."

"Not sure I'll make it to the pool door if it's jus' me either, but I'll be ready to try."

"Yeah, me too. Two days then. I'll check on you tomorrow. You want anything from the cafe?"

He shook his head. "Nothing I miss iss in this building."

"You have the number to the place they're keeping her. Call her. Tell her you love her—"

"Can't." His voice broke. "She'll hear me thish way. Tol' her I wassn't ssick. Promissed her I'd come and get her. Can't let her hear."

"She'd want to. When she's older, she'll want to have heard your voice one more time."

"Maybe. Maybe she'll jus' think thass what she wanted. She'll be sscared, Shay. Jus' little. Nobody'ss there with her. Let her be calm until Joan finds her. Or you."

"I'll tell her what you did. When she's ready."

He shook his head. "Not importan'. All I wan' iss for Randi to be ssafe. Thass all. You don' have to raisse her or promisse me anything, jus' find her. Make sure."

Shay squeezed his good hand. "I'll check on you soon," she told him, "You have time to change your mind."

They kept a two-person watch while they slept. Neil was awake with Nancy when the power failed. She'd yelped and reached out, her torn fingernails scratching against the cast before he caught her hand. "'Sokay," he said, "Jus' the power. Maybe iss a storm. Hospital has a—" he broke off as the lights flickered on again. The others were sitting up around them. "The generator'll be okay awhile, right?"

"Couple hours, I think," said Nancy, "Without anyone to give it gas."

"More now," said a man, yawning. "No patient machines to keep on. Should be a while. Couple dayss maybe. Good thing, iss gonna get awfully cold otherwise."

"Cold enough to kill ush?" asked Neil.

The man shrugged. "Dunno. Probably not for a while. Maybe not ever, if you're waiting for the crazies to keel over, don' think thass gonna happen. Not for a long time."

Neil shook his head. "Not the infected I'm thinking of. Cafe needs a push. Maybe now they'll want to go."

Nancy shrunk back. "Not sure I'm going with you. To the pool. Not sure I can do this." Two others nodded in agreement.

"I unnerstand," said Neil. "And if you choose that— well, I'm jus' some guy. Notchure dad. Or your boss. But— you're gonna end up at the pool either way. Now or a few days from now when you wander down looking for food or water 'cause you can't figure out how to turn on the tap and you run out of toilet water to drink. Only thing we're gonna get to choose is if we stay in here sscared or help someone on the way out. There's a guy down near there. Halfway. Hiding in an office. Couldn't get the courage to come out even when we cleared a path for him. Shay talked and talked trying to get him out of the doorway. He wass so sscared. Couldn' do it. Don' know if he's still sitting there or if someone got him, but I know, either way, he's gonna die. Sstarve or get caught, one or the other. He's not moving. And his death won't help anyone. Jus' gonna rot until the cleanup crew finally comes along. An' then there was the guy I was with, Cody. Wass sick without even knowing for a long time. Finally tol' him. We were trying to find a way out and he helped us, even after he knew he couldn' go. Kept helping us, up to the bitter end. He knew he was ssnapping. When we ran into a group of ssick people on our way to the security office, he let himself go. Fought e'ery one of 'em. I know he'ss gone. But he was going anyway. Made it mean something. Me too, I'm going. Not getting out of here. But I'm not gonna cower in the doorway and watch the res' starve or get attacked either."

"What if there's a cure? What if it comes a few days after you get killed?"

"Won' know, will I? An' if there is, dunno that I wan' it. You see what they do. You wanna wake up after that? You wanna kish you kids with a mouth that ate someone? You wanna know what you can do when you're enraged? I don' wanna know. Don' think I could live with myself. D'you?"

He left it to that, knowing he probably hadn't really convinced anyone. If it was only he and Shay that followed the plan, that's how it would have to be. He tried to sleep, hoping he'd dream about Randi. But it was the memory of Brinybrickle's leering grin that he swam out of and into screaming chaos hours later. Nancy had snapped. The man keeping watch had fallen into a doze while his partner had gone to take a shower, and Nancy's teeth were buried in another woman's stomach by the time Neil fully woke. There was a loose flap of skin on the woman's face where Nancy had bitten first, and it was she who was screaming.

"Shhhhhh," someone urged the woman while others tried to yank Nancy off, terrified that she'd call more infected to them. It only made the woman scream louder as Nancy took more skin with her.

"Get the nurse," shouted a man nearby. Neil didn't wait to be asked twice. He bolted out the door toward the cafe. He was clumsy, sliding over the floor and crashed against a wall halfway there. He groaned at the rattling blow against the cast and heard feet pelting toward him. A red ax flashed up over his head before Neil even realized that the person was coming for him rather than the disturbance behind him. "Not me," he shrieked, even as it descended. Luckily, Bessie had terrible aim. The ax sunk into the wall next to his shoulder. "Not me," he shouted again. "We need help, need the nurse, pleasse help!"

Bessie sank back, leaving the ax in the wall. She was shaking. "I'm so sorry, oh, man, I'm so—"

"Forget it, get help. Now!" he shoved at her and she ran back the way she came. It took him a few seconds to realize he, too, was shaking and pull himself upright. He stared at the ax until he realized he was drifting again, and then wheeled around and ran back toward the lounge.

Nancy was out in the hallway. Her shoulders heaved and her shirt was so saturated with blood that he could see the shine of the wetness in the fabric. He skidded to a halt and she gurgled out a liquid growl at him. "But you weren' that bad," he said, still in shock. "Didn' even bite your fingers that much. Cody wass—"

She growled again, a clotted, nasty ripple of sound. She leaped for him and they toppled, her teeth scraping the plaster cast. It didn't seem to slow her down, she only clawed her way past, raking ragged nails over his cheek in sizzling lines. He knocked her back, using the cast as a makeshift club until she lost balance and slid off of him and to the side. He rolled immediately, feeling slow and clumsy, but managed to get her pinned against the wall, his cast just beneath her neck. She kept lunging for him and her fingers grabbed and pinched and scraped anything they could reach. Her teeth snapped and she howled, warm spit spraying from her mouth over his cheeks. "You weren' that bad," he cried again, leaning into his broken arm, although it ached like he'd stuck it into flame. Her howl turned into a foaming rasp, but she still tried to thrust her face forward against his cast. He didn't really notice until her eyes started to roll up. The white, wet sclera turned his stomach, but he couldn't risk looking away.

"Help," he croaked, "Ssomeone help."

Her fingers fluttered away, drifted from his torn shirt. The rigid lines of her face began to slacken and droop. Some distant part of him knew she was suffocating against the pressure of his arm, but he couldn't pull back. Couldn't release her. Footsteps echoed behind him and he finally moved to let her go, grateful he didn't have to do it, didn't have to kill her. But someone shoved his cast back into place, up and under her chin, pressing hard against his arm and he moaned.

"Got to finish it. She's gone. You let her go, she'll rip out the throats of three more people before we stop her, you included," the voice in his ear said rapidly. Neil's mind took too long to recognize it as Toby's.

"I don' wanna do thiss," he protested. Nancy thrashed slightly, her legs kicking into Neil's shins, and then she went limp. His arm was held in place for several more seconds.

"I know. But it's got to be done," Toby said. "And it's already finished." Neil was released. Nancy's body slid down the wall and slumped onto the floor. He stared at her until Toby said, "Was it you who needed the nurse? Or someone else?"

"Insside," said Neil, pointing to the door. A few people moved toward it, but not the whole group that had come with him.

"Why we doing this?" asked someone. "Wasting resources like this, risking our lives. They're already dead. Just a matter of time. We should get them those pills and have it done."

Neil just sobbed.

"You still you, son?" asked Toby.

"She wasn' that bad," he muttered. "Shoulda been days. I killed— I killed her. I wasn' crazy yet. I killed her anyway. I should— time for me to go too. If she— I'm losing everything."

"It's okay," said Toby patting his shoulder. "I understand."

"The fuck you do." Neil flinched away from the contact. "You have no idea what thish is like."

"She wasn't Nancy anymore. Just a sick animal. If you let her go, she would have done more harm."

"You don't know that. None of ush know that. Something wass in there. Some part of her. Some part of me will be in there when it happens—"

"Not enough to stop you, Neil."

"Back off. Leave him alone. Go see what the damage inside is if you want to make shitty speeches," Shay snapped. Neil turned toward her voice. "Are you hurt?" she asked him.

"Not really," he said. "Not any way thass gonna matter in a few hours."

"It's still going to matter," she said sadly.

"It won't. Not really. We don't know each other. Thass okay. Better for you that way, jus' some stranger you left in a hospital."

"I wish we did. Know each other. I wish we'd been friends, Neil. I was friends with Nancy. She's a— was a patient registrar. Calmest, kindest person. Shouldn't have even been caught in the quarantine. I'm not sure how she did get swept up in it. She would have been horrified to be like this. She would have wanted you to know her before. She wouldn't want anyone to remember her like this."

"That doesn' 'scuse what I did."

"I don't think there's anything that could. That's how it should be. Shouldn't be easy to do what you just did. Not even now. She wouldn't have been excused for killing you if she'd gotten the upper hand. Not even when she was out of her mind. Think of it that way. You saved her from that. If there is someone left once we're— like that, then you saved that part of her from having to know what that felt like, that weight. It's unfair. The whole week's been worse than any nightmare I've ever had. And it doesn't look like the end is going to be much better. But it still matters to me that you're hurt. And it's still going to matter in another week. Another month. It's going to matter to your daughter, too, when I tell her about you. Wish I knew you better for her sake, too, not just mine."

"We need to go. Soon. Nancy wasn'— she only jus' started chewing her fingers. The others are losing their nerve. I don' know how many will go with me in a few hours. Don' know how many will be left to go with me. An' the generator won' lass forever. Maintenance tunnelss will be really dark after."

"I know," said Shay. "I think the power going out shook Toby. All the television stations are down. Across the board. Harlain called last night, finally. Things are dissolving. She's not at her post anymore. Lots of people aren't at their posts anymore. I'm not even sure how many guards are left out there. Maybe it's clear. Maybe you shouldn't risk—"

"You heard them. We're dead anyway. 'S not a risk for ush anymore. But it still is for you. Lemme do something to help. Let it matter."

Shay nodded. "You got a clock in that room?"

"Yeah. Haven't looked at it. Doesn't mean much now."

She pulled him down the hall toward a glass front office and pointed through the window at the clock. "It's ten. Give me two hours. It'll give me time to convince anyone willing and for us to get to the start of the maintenance tunnel."

"Took ush way longer than that," he pointed out.

"Yeah, but I know there'll be more of us now. And we cleared a path. Mostly. I don't need to get to the end, just need to get close. I'll try and make them move faster than that. In two hours, if you can wait that long, start for the pool. At twelve-thirty, I'll try and get us out."

"Okay. Twelve-thirty. Don' be late, 'cause that alarm's going off then. I'm not gonna get another chance." He hesitated. "About what you ssaid before. If I wanned you to tell Randi anything. Hug her for me, Shay. She knows I love her, but say it again, will you? I didn' say it enough."

"I will. And if there's some kind of treatment—"

"I don't think I want it, Shay."

"You do. Or you wouldn't have left your friend alive. I'm going to come back for you. For anyone left here. I promise," she said and gave him an awkward hug around his cast. Toby emerged with the nurse and the small knot of others from the cafe. It was obvious from their expressions that the woman Nancy had attacked was dead.

"Good luck," Neil told Shay.

She nodded, unsure what to say.

37

In the end, it was him and three others. One of the infected had decided to stay in the lounge, clinging to the hope that someone would come and save her before she lost her mind completely. Neil could already feel his slipping. The nervous dread was likely accelerating the process. He'd bitten his thumbnail to the quick and inhaled a sharp gasp at the sudden sharp pain when he bit too far before realizing he'd even started. Definitely feel pain still, he'd mused. Poor Cody. He pushed the thought away and returned to watching the clock. One of the others had wandered around the lounge trying to find something to use as a weapon for a while before settling on a broom handle. We're the weapon, Neil wanted to tell her. Teeth and hands and brute strength do enough damage. That's why we're hiding here. Don't need the broom. But it seemed to make the woman feel better to grip it, so he held his tongue. One man cried silently for a while. The other two took Nancy's body and the body of her victim to another room and returned just before it was time to leave. The woman who was staying doggedly ignored them, pretending they were already gone. Neil kept trying to think of happier memories. Ones with Dante, ones with Joan and Randi, ones with his mom when he was a kid, but his mind kept blanking partway through and he'd find himself just watching the seconds tick by until it was time to go. He hoped they weren't expecting some big rally. He didn't feel like rallying. He just stood up, instead, and went to the door. The others followed him out.

"Never been down to the pool," he admitted, once the door shut behind them.

"Thish way," said the man who had cried. Neil wondered if he ought to know their names. But Nancy was right. It didn't matter anymore. Not to them, anyway. Only to the people outside. He followed the man down the hall toward the east wing.

The body of a patient lay on the floor just at the entrance of the emergency room, puffy and turning a pallid green now. Neil stepped over it. Wondered for a second who he'd been. What his name was once. Who was missing him. Gone now. All gone. Should have taken care of him days ago. Everyone should have that, at least. Even me. Won't though, will I? Someday, they'll come back to this place and find us. Or maybe they'll just bulldoze it. Burn it down. But Randi will know. Wonder if she'll bring me flowers. I hope Joan's found her. Hope she's already home, decorating sugar cookies and listening to those infuriating holiday jingles. Be happy, baby. Be happy again. Go to the parade again. Stay kind. Oh Randi, stay a good person.

Another body slumped against a wall. This time, another form curled over it, face pressed against an arm, the hand of the corpse jerking slightly as the feeder tore a piece from it. The figure raised their face to look at the small group. A bloody chunk hung from their mouth, jiggling as they chewed.

"Shit," hissed someone.

"They're full," said Neil. "Leave them alone an' let 'em eat. Won' attack."

The woman beside him gagged twice and then leaned over. The vomit splattered over the tile with a sour burst of smell. She stood up and kept walking, wiping her mouth with the back of her sleeve. Neil wished he had thought to bring some water with him. He'd liked to have given her some. Won't matter in a little bit. She's okay. We're okay. He wondered what they'd done with his mother. He hoped they hadn't hurt her, whatever it was. He hoped she hadn't escaped even more.

Blood speckled the walls and floor in long, dried sprays and streaks. There was a leg near the vending machines. It was stripped and the knee joint was visible. A torn sneaker lay nearby.

"Getting to the spot they sstarted running inno each other when we herded 'em down here. There'll be worse farther on. Live oness, too. Whatever happens, get to the door on the far sside of the pool. We press the door, the alarm'll sound. The res' will happen even if we don' make it farther than that," said Neil. He'd stepped over the slithering mass of someone's intestines and a torso before he realized he was breathing too rapidly and would likely pass out soon if he didn't calm himself down. They weren't walking rapidly but his heartbeat was heavy enough that he grew dizzy. Someone grabbed his good hand, squeezed it very hard.

"Whass your name?" he asked, desperate for some kind of familiarity, as brief and shallow as it might turn out to be.

"Ssarah. I have a cat. His name is Busser. Buster. He likes to perch on my shoulder like a parrot. I hope ssomebody feeds him," she said all in a rush. "You?"

"Neil. I have a daughter, Randi. No pet, but she'ss been begging me for one for years. Should have got her one."

"She here?"

"No."

"Thank God."

"Therapy pool is jus' around the corner," said the man who was leading them. He slipped and another woman caught him. "'S a lobby. Locker rooms on the side. Pool's through the double doors."

"I don' wanna get eaten," said the woman. "I don' want it to hurt."

"You go ahead and run," said Neil. "You make it to that door, and there's a bullet on t'other side. All done. Unnerstand?"

"Yeah. I do. I'd feel bad for the soldiers on the other side, but— they're the ones put ush here, aren't they?"

"Guess so. An' they have room to run away."

"Good. I hope they run," said Sarah.

"Me too. Hope I don't trip."

She squeezed his hand again and they rounded the corner. Dozens and dozens of infected pinballed in slow motion from wall to wall, shuffling until they hit something and then turning the other way. They stepped on fallen bodies, tripping and tumbling over each other. Neil watched a man snarl as he rose from a fall and grab another, but he quickly lost interest and let go before the other really registered that he'd been touched.

"Sstill full, but for how long?"

"Alarm'll draw them. Has to," said the man who'd led them.

Sarah let him go. "Bye, Neil. I hope your daughter gets that pet."

"Goo'bye Sarah. I know your cat will find a good home."

He felt his thighs tighten and took off, headed straight for an opening between bodies. He slammed into the shoulder of a large man in a jumpsuit and set him spinning away. Neil struggled to keep himself from losing his balance as well. He heard a grunt and then an echoing call. More thuds behind him as the others hit. His cast clanged against the door and sent it flying open. A frightened scream burst from behind him. Hope it's not Sarah, he thought irrationally. The pool reflected the overhead lights in aqua and gold and bright pink. Infected thrashed in the water, trailing plumes of red that dispersed into a film in the shallow half. He plowed on, knocking a woman who lunged for him into the water with his cast. A man shouted for help behind him. Neil wished he'd asked his name, but didn't stop. Halfway toward the other end of the pool. The bodies in the water were thinning out, a few floated in round bubbles of wet cloth and shining flesh. Hope Joan had fucking fun in Aruba, he thought bitterly, and something flared inside him. Should have been here. Should have had Randi. Wouldn't have been at the fucking parade if Harry hadn't waltzed in and— He kicked out at a flabby older man whose jowls were a ragged, chewed mess of beard and blood. Felt a guttural boom rise from the heave of his lungs into the back of his throat. When he let it go, it was an utterly foreign growl. Something a beast would make. Randi, he thought, and her face, laughing under her silly pom-pom hat filled him and winked out. He slammed into the far door and the splitting siren of an alarm erupted around him. He saw the horrified face of a woman as he spun to find the sound. He should know her. Then the idea spun away like ash and he grabbed her and shook, tumbling to the concrete as several bodies overran them. It hurt, but it was distant. His teeth itched. That was far more important than the foot on his hip, in his gut, the weight of someone falling atop him. His teeth itched and her skin was so salty. Her ear tore like a piece of undercooked bacon. He was salivating and she was still screaming.

Shouldn't, he thought, even as he chewed. The thin cartilage crunched and made his teeth stop itching. Rattling pops echoed around him, cutting through the shrieks and growls. Cold air hit his head. He ignored it and bit the woman's cheek. Much softer. Better. His brain stopped its weak protests. The woman was limp. The sounds of other deaths gradually dwindled until it was just the soft gurgle of the pool water hitting the sides of the concrete and his own wet snuffling as he ate.

38

Thirty months Later

The pool was almost empty. Three of the windows were shattered, the boards that had covered them splintered by gunfire. Otherwise, what little water there was would likely not be there at all. The filters and pumps had long since stopped working, dying with the generator and all that was left was a shallow puddle of rainwater. It was surely crawling with things that should have frightened Neil. He was never frightened anymore. Just seething with rage and hunger. Or sleeping. Nothing else. None of the few remaining Infected were frightened. Not even wary enough to realize the therapy pool was an accidental trap. The last remaining water in the hospital, an irresistible draw for those still alive. If someone could call it a draw in any true sense of the word. Afterward, Neil would have no real recollection of an urge to travel anywhere. He'd assume it was more sheer luck of being near the pool that helped him and the others survive, not some instinct or intelligence that told them to arrive there. The pool had prey, and that was all that mattered at the time.

The dark swathes of bloodstains on the tiles and the jumble of gnawed bones lying against the pool's deep walls held no warning for Neil, no effect on him at all, except to make him stumble over a humerus as he shuffled toward the remaining liquid. He collapsed down to his knees without bothering to look around, unaware of who was watching him. The water was murky, muddled with months of rotting scraps of former victims, a greasy film slid over its surface and refracted the half-light of the windows in purple and gold.

Neil should already have been dead. Anything that drank from the puddle should have. Whether it was natural resistance or long months of no contact with anything outside the hospital, almost a dozen Infected remained, rattling around the building searching for something, anything to eat. Until they found one another. Usually at the pool. Neil leaned forward and lapped at the filthy water. The splash beside him didn't even make him raise his head, still slurping long sucks of water. Something rammed his side and he tipped over, snarling. A gangly creature scrambled over him, pinned him in the shallow edge of the puddle. If Neil hadn't been so emaciated himself, he could have thrown it off easily. But they'd both been starving for months. The thing's mouth gaped open, breath a roiling plume of heat and rot, Neil grunted and shoved, but he was too weak and it bit down on his neck, sizzling and crushing. Compared to the surging flood of anger and adrenaline, the pain was almost nothing. Neil scrabbled and flailed but the pressure didn't ease and long, jagged nails raked at him, clung on in thin crescents to his chest. A bang echoed somewhere overhead, somewhere beyond the walls of the pool. Neil barely registered it. Another Infected or the end of the world, it hardly mattered. He would die in that dried up pool and all he wanted was to get the animal's flesh between his own teeth, to stave off the unending craving just for a little. His own mouth snapped futilely. A rush of shouts, of real voices. Words. Neil was long past understanding words. Months and months past. Just a string of noise to die to. But then— silence. Just the splash and growl of the thing biting him and his own narrowing breath. The thing grunted and its teeth loosened by a fraction. An instant later, Neil felt a sting in his shoulder. It was lost among his other injuries.

"Should we separate them?"

The voice floated above them. Neil wouldn't understand it until much later. "You want to risk a bite? Sedative won't kick in for ten more minutes."

"They aren't going to make it ten more minutes. And we've got armor."

Neil's breath rattled and his throat burned. There was darkness creeping in the corners of his vision. But still, the thing above him didn't release.

"Suit yourself, Mateo. You get tackled, I'm using the pistol."

More splashes. A yank at his throat where the creature's teeth had sunk in, and shouts. He tried to roar, but it came out a gurgle and the yank returned, then suddenly a release and the thing above him whirled away.

"Look out, she's coming after you. Jump out! Jump out!"

Water sloshed around him and Neil wheezed, trying to find the breath to rise and strike back at the animal that had pinned him. To eat. But his arms were heavy. And the dark hadn't retreated. The adrenaline cooling, even the ever-present anger ebbing away. He lay there, his back and buttocks soaking in the water while the shouts continued around him until his breath was a slow rasp and his eyes closed.

"Jesus, glad we stuck around. Thought Shay was crazy. She'd never have forgiven me if we left before we found these. Things we do for love, right?"

"Only you, Mateo. And Shay is crazy. Almost two years. Who the hell lives that long? There's no one taking care of them. How on earth did these guys make it in here? Probably crawling with cholera. If it weren't for the supplies, I wouldn't have agreed to this scav job."

Someone's hands were on Neil's neck, a soft brush of fabric against the wound. It hurt more now that he wasn't fighting. "She used to work here." The voice was close. Calm. Neil wouldn't understand the words for another week, but he listened to the tones as his rage drained slowly away. "Knew a lot of people left behind, I guess. She told me she was stuck here, during the plague and she promised to come back for them after some of them helped her escape. I told her the odds of someone surviving that long were insanely low. 'I promised,' she kept saying. She would have come with us if the scav team hadn't been called to that mall. I told her we could wait until the next sector push. They've been sick this long, what's another month before getting the Cure?"

"Would have been a month too long for that guy," said the other voice.

"Yeah. Guess that's true." The hand moved, slid under Neil's back. "You hang on, my guy," it said to him as he was lifted from the water. "Gonna wake up in a whole new life. You just hang..."

The voices faded into a deep fog and were gone.
Thank you so much for reading Before the Cure, I truly hope that you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing it. If you did, you might like to know that this is a new series in an already existing world. There will be at least two more books about Neil (as I write this note, book #2 is within days of being finished), but there is also already a complete series in Neil's world called After the Cure, and if you are interested in jumping in to that, you can find links to them on the next page. By the way, the first novel in that series is also available for free. If you are eager for the next book in this series or you'd like to ask me something, or tell me something, there are lots of ways to keep in touch! My newsletter is available here: http://eepurl.com/WLbBb I only send out newsletters when I have a new release, a free story to give you or a really awesome deal to announce (that translates to one newsletter every three months or so). If you'd like to see updates and grab some free stories without having to get emails, you can visit my site here: http://https://www.scullerytales.com/ If you'd like to talk to me, I can usually be found on Facebook: http://www.facebook.com/Afterthecurenovel twitter: http://twitter.com/scullerytales or through email: mailto:dk.gould@live.com However you catch up to me, I will be happy to hear from you! Thanks again for reading!

Deirdre Gould
Other Available Titles

In the Before the Cure Series:

The Infected

In the same world as Before the Cure:

After the Cure

The Cured

Krisis

Poveglia

The 40th Day

Curing Khang Yeo in The Z Chronicles

Pet Shop in Tails of the Apocalypse

Andy and Igor http://www.scullerytales.com/free-reads/

Non-Infected stories:

Ex Situ Series:

Traveler in the Dark

Cradle of the Deep

Torrent of Darkness

Scapegoat Series:

Scapegoat

Reciprocate

Short stories:

System Failure in The Robot Chronicles

Iteration in The Future Chronicles

The Thaw http://www.scullerytales.com/the-thaw/
