Chapter 17
Kate
Walking through the streets with Jordan acting as a protective watchdog has me noticing things I wouldn’t have before.
Like the way vines have grown inside the houses, strangling them, trying to merge with them.
Or how the dragonflies and bees buzz around me, crickets chirping in the distance, a cacophony greeting my ears.
It’s beautiful in a macabre way.
Jordan and I pass behind a home with a small garden in the backyard that has now grown out of control.
Ginormous watermelons, strawberry bushes, even asparagus growing straight up from the ground.
As we pass, Jordan doesn’t even register the garden, most likely because her taste buds no longer crave anything other than meat.
But my mouth waters at the chance to have some fresh fruit and vegetables.
I crouch by the strawberry bush, pluck one off, and bring it to my mouth. I nearly groan as the sweet taste bursts against my tongue.
“Kate!”
My eyes shoot up at Jordan’s frantic call to find her sprinting to me. I look around, trying to find the infected that must be near but I can’t see any.
I stand and get ready to run in whichever direction we need to, but Jordan slams into me, her gaze locked on my mouth.
“What did you just eat?” I’m about to tell her it’s a strawberry, but she doesn’t give me the chance before she’s upon me, gripping the tops of my arms. “Spit it out, it could be poisonous.”
What? No, they aren’t, I want to say, but Jordan shoves her fingers into my mouth, desperately trying to wrangle the fruit out of my mouth.
I rear back, the strawberry now lodged in my cheek. “Stop!”
“You can’t just eat the first thing you see!” Her voice is hysterical.
“No!” I shriek, her fingers digging around in my mouth. I shake my head back and forth, trying to dislodge her, but her nimble fingers manage to close around the strawberry and pull it from my mouth. “What the fuck, Jordan!”
She’s panting, staring at me wide-eyed before she lifts it to her nose and sniffs. She blinks, a sheepish look crossing her face as she mumbles, “It’s a strawberry.”
I gape at her. “I could’ve told you that!”
“I turn my back on you for one second and you’re shoving random fruits into your mouth. How else was I supposed to react?” She runs a nervous hand through her white hair.
“I know what a strawberry is, I’m not an idiot,” I argue.
Jordan drops the mushed fruit onto the ground and murmurs a reluctant apology before looking at the overgrown garden. “We could stay here tonight, if you’d like.”
“You’re just trying to make it up to me,” I chide, but a smile spreads across my lips. “I’d like that. Fresh fruits aren’t that common in the zone. There are small gardens, but there are so many people to feed, you don’t really get to eat them fresh.”
Jordan nods. “I remember that. A lot of the fresh food was preserved to last, in case an airdrop wasn’t happening for a while.”
“I don’t miss that,” I admit, surprising myself. I clear my throat awkwardly before stepping through the garden, inspecting the other produce. “There’s a lot to choose from. I know we can’t bring much with us, so I’d like to eat as much as I can while we’re here.”
Jordan heads to the house’s back door. “Let’s see if the place is secure first.”
I sigh and trail behind, my mind working through how many blueberries I can scarf down as two infected burst out the house next door, hissing and snarling.
A deep growl comes from Jordan before she races at them, mouth wide, ready to rip into them. One rises to the occasion, snarling at her as they collide. They fall to the ground, a mess of fangs and claws, locked in battle. I pull my gun out and aim at the other infected, who has spotted me.
I swear it licks its lips before charging at me.
I hold my gun out, my finger on the trigger, but I freeze.
What if there’s a person trapped in there, like Jordan was? They were a person with a life, with loved ones, with hopes and dreams that were taken from them all because of the virus.
I can’t kill a person.
They’re close enough to see the red ring in their eyes. “Kate!” I hear Jordan shout, but I can’t look away. “What are you doing?”
My hands tremble as I fight with myself, all while the infected moves closer.
If I die, I won’t help cure everyone. Is letting one person live worth damning everyone else?
My finger almost squeezes the trigger as Jordan rushes from the side and slams into the infected. I drop the gun and rear back as Jordan and the infected become a tangle of limbs and teeth, thrashing and tearing at one another.
She grips the infected’s head and twists. A sickening crack fills the air as she lets go, the infected landing in a heap at her feet. Both infected died by Jordan’s hand while I stood here like a sitting duck.
My body is still fighting to get back online, to pull itself together, when she rounds on me with a wild rage in her eyes. She rushes to me, her mouth and hands tinted red with blood.
“What the fuck was that, Kate?”
“I—” I’m trying to get my mouth to work, to say what happened, to say anything—
“He was this close to ripping you apart! And you just stood there.”
My eyes ping-pong from her to the crumpled body, back to her. “I know,” I croak.
She throws her hands up. “You choked.”
I did. I couldn’t get it out of my head that this was another person, and I’d have to kill them to keep myself alive. “I’m sorry.”
Jordan shakes her head before rubbing her temples, closing her eyes for a moment. “This is a bad idea. We need to turn back, to stay at the house for longer.”
“No,” I gasp. I step toward her, my hands going around her wrists.
“Please, we need to keep going. I got in my head, that’s all.
I kept thinking…what if he would wake up one day, like you did?
” I swallow the lump in my throat. “There’s no way it’s just you experiencing this.
There must be others. And what if he’s one of them? ”
Jordan’s dark red eyes harden. “He’s better off dead.”
I drop her wrists like I’ve been stung. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means the infection makes us do shit no one should ever have to do,” she snaps.
“You would never understand the shit I’ve done, what I’ve seen while the virus used my body to spread itself around.
” Her lip curls in disgust before her focus shifts to the corpse.
“Killing him is releasing him from this burden.”
My mouth opens to respond, to say anything, but no sound comes out. My chest aches at her words, at what she’s revealing about herself. I’ve been so laser-focused on saving everyone that I didn’t even consider if people want to be saved.
“We need to keep moving,” Jordan states, her eyes lifting to the horizon for a moment before she walks forward, the body discarded on the ground.
I look down at him one last time before shoving the thoughts away and follow after her, the small garden now forgotten.
We don’t speak for the rest of the day. Jordan’s anger radiates from her like a heater, burning me every time I get too close. I don’t have the words to understand what happened anyway.
I’ve killed many infected before, but not since meeting Jordan. Not since I discovered that people still live trapped in their own bodies, unable to stop what’s happening to them. The thought of being stuck like that makes nausea roil in my stomach.
Does knowing they’re alive inside make a difference when it comes to their death? What is this false line that we’ve drawn with our morality—the infected are okay to kill because we assumed they’re mindless? They attack us, so it’s justified?
I never considered any of this before, partly because it’s been about survival; if I get bitten, I become one of them.
But to know I don’t actually die when the virus takes over has shifted everything in my head.
I struggle to sort through my thoughts as Jordan strides to one of the empty homes. “Sun’s going down,” she throws over her shoulder.
I nod, even though she doesn’t bother looking at me. Following behind, we step up onto the house’s decaying porch, Jordan pushing the door open and peeking inside.
“Come on,” she murmurs after a moment, and we step in.
This home looks similar to the one we were in before: abandoned, furniture overturned, as if a fight broke out in here.
Jordan heads straight down the hall while I turn right, stepping into the living room.
Family photos hang on the walls, covered in dust. A worn couch is upheaved on its back, and something that looks like it was a desk is in pieces scattered across the floor.
I step over broken glass and splintered wood to look at the photos.
Three smiles greet me, a couple and their happy child in between them. Or maybe they weren’t happy at all—maybe it was for the cameras, and their smiles dropped the moment the photo captured them.
I let out a weak sigh. This is counterproductive. If Jordan and I are going to make it back to the zone, I can’t drive myself into melancholy. I need to shut off my feelings—especially the uneasiness I feel at killing infected—until the cure is created.
Once that’s done, maybe then I can face every horrible thing I’ve done to survive.
I can sense Jordan approaching before I hear her, so I turn around and ask, “Where’s the bedroom?”
She halts at the threshold of the living room and shoves her hands into her front pockets. “It’s down the hall, but we may have to deal with an issue before then.”
“What kind of issue?”
She jerks her head to the side. “Come look.”
Nerves dance along my skin as she turns and walks down the hall. Following behind, I spot what she’s referring to immediately.
There are three doors down the hall. Two are open. The third is shut, with a dresser propped in front of it.
“Is someone in there?” I ask.
“Listen.”
I pause, straining to hear anything through the door, but it’s silent. I shake my head. “I don’t hear anything.”
Jordan inclines her head. “Listen,” she urges.
I let out an annoyed huff and press my ear to the wall.
Something is rattling around inside. An infected mut be trapped in there.
I pull back and whisper, “Let’s go to the next house.”
Jordan scrutinizes me, an unreadable expression on her face before she says, “Go in and kill them.”
My mind pauses. “What?”
“You heard me. From what I can sense, there’s not much movement—they’re probably injured. I’ll move the dresser so you can go in and kill them.”
“Don’t be an asshole,” I growl.
“I’m not.” Her infected eyes blaze. “If you can’t kill one, this little mission of yours is pointless. You know as well as I do: it’s either you or them. So which is it going to be? You going to let your newfound conscience stop you from saving the world?”
The sarcasm dripping from her voice makes me see red. “Why are you so against me going back? Don’t you want to fight for the possibility of a future without this virus? Don’t you want to go back to how things used to be?”
She lets out an incredulous bark of a laugh. “How things used to be? That life doesn’t exist anymore—not for you, not for me. Not for anyone.”
“It could,” I spit through my gritted teeth.
“Kate.” She says my name like she’s scolding a small child. “Considering you’re incredibly intelligent, you’re also quite naive.”
She steps forward and starts pulling the dresser away from the door.
“This could have all been avoided if you hadn’t choked.
Better yet, it wouldn’t have been an issue if you’d listened to me about your scent driving infected toward you.
Don’t be deadweight for this journey. Go in and do what I said. ”
“I’d rather kill you,” I snarl, anger licking up my spine. I’m feeling like a rabid animal, backed into a corner. “Stop.”
My feet keep me frozen, stuck in place as I scramble for what to do.
It takes Jordan barely any time or effort to expose the door. I know she’s being serious—it’s either kill this infected, or go back to being her prisoner.
“I hate you,” I snap, throwing as much rage into my words as I can before I step to the door, my hand closing around the handle.
Jordan doesn’t say anything, but I can feel her eyes burning into the side of my face.
Do it, I urge myself. Do it and let it be done with. Deal with the aftermath later.
My other hand goes to my holstered gun as I turn the knob. The door creaks open to reveal a small bedroom.
The room looks nearly untouched by destruction. A bookshelf and dresser sit off to the side, with a small rug in the center. The bed is pushed against the far wall.
With the infected strapped down on it.
They writhe on the bed, weakly tugging on its restraints as they see me. They froth at the mouth, the virus desperate to get to me. They’re basically skin and bones now, having been trapped in this room for some time. Maybe a few more days, and the body would have given out on its own.
I hate Jordan even more for this.
I pull my gun free and don’t hesitate to send a bullet through their skull, splattering blood and brain matter on the headboard behind them.
Deal with the aftermath later.
Turning, I stomp out of the room, straight past Jordan without a word, and hide myself in the room across the hall, slamming the door to keep everything hidden away.