Decay and Devour

Chapter 1

Kate

I shouldn’t have stayed out late last night.

Sneaking away from the safe zone each night, for a chance to see my brother, is incredibly dangerous. But I can’t stop; I have to lay eyes on him, even if he’s not really in his body anymore.

I choke down my coffee, not even sure why I bother with it. The government airdrops it every so often, but it’s always watered down, and we have to share among the entire camp.

Still, I need a boost of energy to get through tonight, especially after sneaking away yesterday to see Harry. Two rangers didn’t return from their rounds last week. I volunteered to take this shift, even though I don’t want to.

“You know you don’t have to go,” my roommate, Michelle, says behind me.

Holding back a sigh, I tell her without turning around, “Of course I do. We need to secure the zone.”

“There are others who can do it.”

I pivot, narrowing my eyes. “Are you saying I can’t handle it?”

Michelle is leaning against the door frame, arms crossed, brows furrowed in concern. “I’m not saying that. I’m just saying you’re more valuable here. With Dr. Parker. We’re closer than ever and losing one researcher could set us back months—maybe even years.”

I turn back to the window and lift my arms to braid my hair down my back.

“Sal and I will be careful. I’m not worried.” Even though my stomach does a little flip.

She lets out a sigh but doesn’t push it.

In some ways, she’s right. Dr. Parker is so close to finding a vaccine and helping us survivors—to letting us be a part of society again. But if the safe zone gets flooded with infected because they breached it, then what good is the vaccine if there’s no one to administer it?

I’m not as irreplaceable as she thinks.

I square my shoulders and turn from the window, toward Michelle and the task ahead. “It’ll be fine.” I try to sound confident, but it falls flat to my ears. It doesn’t seem to hit her correctly either, because she grimaces before pushing off the door frame.

“Be careful,” she warns before walking down the hall.

“All we can ever be is careful,” I mumble under my breath and stride from our shared room.

Part of me wants to admit that I’m scared, but also curious. Most of my time is spent within the confines of this building, except when I’m sneaking out deeper into the city, which is definitely not allowed nor recommended.

I want to know what it’s like beyond the city limits.

I follow Michelle down the hall to the stairs, the metal clanking under our boots.

The compound leaves much to be desired, but interior decorating fell by the wayside once the infection pushed survivors into what we deem safe zones.

These areas are buildings throughout the sprawling, crumbling metropolis—some are high rises, while others may be old office buildings, or indoor malls.

One is even some old guy’s former mansion.

There are seven safe zones throughout the city, with the pockets separate from us belonging to raiders. It’s every person for themselves out there.

We’ve managed to end up in the labs where the outbreak initially began.

Old, abandoned labs were converted into bedrooms—and by converted, I mean old lab tech equipment has been left behind and cots have been placed on the floor.

That’s it. Though there’s no signs of the infection within these rooms now, people are a bit queasy about tampering with any equipment.

Even I am sometimes, and I know better; I work in the actual active labs in the basement.

Though we don’t keep active infected down there.

Dr. Parker seems to be smarter than the original researchers, who got bitten by an infected animal, spreading it to one another and, eventually, to the city beyond.

There are rumors about which animal they were experimenting on—some say it was a monkey, some say a dog. Some even say it was some amalgamation of multiple animals, the combination leading to their cells fusing together, allowing the virus to warp them.

I stopped trying to correct people. It rarely comes up now, anyway; the only time I hear it is when someone has had contact with someone at a different safe zone.

The true story began five years ago. Underground experiments were testing highly mutative viruses on mice, trying to manipulate them, to cure them.

Except one strain refused to back down.

The mice became increasingly violent, overcome by bloodlust. They’d attack one another, breaking through their enclosures to bite as many as possible.

Until one bit a researcher.

It only took a few days before he turned, attacking a colleague. It snowballed from there, spreading through the city like wildfire.

Thanks to our government’s aggressive and violent efforts, the virus has been contained. But not cured.

Our island sits far north, just off the mainland. When the island shut down, people rushed to escape, hijacking boats and helicopters—but the military made sure they didn’t make it very far. People stopped trying after a while.

Leaving us to die.

Our government will send supplies every now and again, dropping boxes into what have become safe zones, but the shipments have slowed. And they always drop the supplies in the most inconvenient places in the city. Runners are the non-infected, charged with receiving the goods for everyone.

Half the time, the supplies doesn’t get picked up. It’s one of the more dangerous jobs.

Our leaders probably want to forget about us, hoping we’ll all perish here, and this will be a forgotten nightmare.

Survival here is no easy feat; our winters ravage the island for most of the year, blanketing us in thick snow and depriving us of sunlight.

The summers are the only time we feel any heat from the star, but it never lasts long enough.

To keep as many of us alive as possible, safe zones were created and all keep in close contact using old walkie talkies. It’s become a way of trade too.

The only thing our safe zone barters with is hope that we’ll discover a vaccine, but it’s enough for other survivors to provide us with goods.

Dr. Parker is adamant a cure is not possible—that the only way forward is through a vaccine.

We won’t be able to save the ones already infected, he’d tell us, but we can protect ourselves and other survivors from suffering the same fate.

Taylor, Parker’s right-hand person, argues that a cure is not only possible, but feasible. It’s a point of contention between them, and they usually get into heated debates about once a week over it.

Parker always wins, claiming a vaccine to protect the living is more important than trying to help the dead.

No one knows for sure, but we believe the person ceases to exist once they’re infected.

All that’s left is the virus driving the body around, but the person they once were is gone.

It’s a tough pill to swallow, but it makes it easier to kill an infected if need be.

As we shuffle down the stairs, dodging others moving to and from whatever assignment or task they have, Michelle throws over her shoulder, “At least Sal is a pro.”

I grunt noncommittally, but she’s right. Sal has been doing patrols pretty much since we first holed up here.

Patrols aren’t that difficult, really. We ride out to the perimeter marked by chain-link fences and patch any holes. Then, in the morning, we go back. While infected sometimes wander around during the day, they’re most active at night—plus, survivors may need to move from one safe zone to another.

The exposed pipes lining the ceiling bang as we round a corner.

I break from Michelle without a word, heading further into the ground to the labs. I want to see Dr. Parker before I go, though I’m not really sure why. Maybe I want him to tell me not to go, that I’m needed here.

But he already told me that when I volunteered, and I didn’t chicken out then, so I can’t do it now.

The lab entrance has a large biohazard sticker plastered on the front.

I get chills thinking about how this building, this room, was ground zero for the infection.

Creating an entire safe zone around where the virus originated may seem dangerous or naive, but it’s the best place to figure out the path forward—we already have all the equipment and data from the previous scientists.

Steeling my spine, I push open the door to find the usual: Dr. Parker and Taylor hunched over microscopes. Both lift their heads at my entrance and give me warm smiles.

“Coming to see us before your patrol?” Dr. Parker asks, standing from his stool and striding to me. His smile crinkles the skin around his eyes.

“I just…” I fight to think of a good enough excuse for being here. “Wanted to make sure everything is going well here, that’s all.”

He chuckles and runs a hand through his salt-and-pepper hair before gesturing to Taylor. “We’re working away, as usual.”

Someone checks me from behind, pushing me forward a step. I twist to find one of the other researchers, Cara, giving me a saccharine smile. “Oops, sorry Kate,” she purrs before her eyes land on Parker. “We should really keep the doorway clear.”

I snort, earning me an agitated glance before her heart-eyes land back on Parker as she strides past us.

Some of the other researchers are cutthroat, particularly about being on Parker’s good side.

Considering he’s young and intelligent, it’s not surprising.

They either want to be his right hand or hop into bed with him.

Cara has it out for anyone who gets too close, including me.

I ignore her, my eyes drifting to Taylor, who raises their eyebrows as they ask, “You sure you still want to go out there?”

My hackles rise at their question, even though I know Taylor is genuinely concerned. “Of course,” I answer a bit defensively.