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'
t go to the doctor until it was too late. My stepdad and my mom retired in
Arizona.
I talked to them about a week before Hamelin
's Revenge. Now ... I don't know."
Malik sighed. "Shit. I'd just be happy to have a dad at all."
"Well," Mitch said, "here's something I've learned over time, Malik. A family
isn't
just a mom, dad, brother, and sister. It can be any combination of those. And
sometimes,
the people don'
t even have to be related. Hell, you could say we
've got our own little family right here. Me, you, Tasha, and Lamar. We've
been through
a lot in the last week, but we'
ve stuck together and looked out for each other, right? That
's what families do."
Mitch punched him playfully on the shoulder and Malik giggled.
"So if we're a family," Tasha said with a smile, "then which one of you is the
mother?"
Mitch and Malik looked at me, both of them grinning. I cut them off with a
laugh.
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"Don't even say it or I'll kick both your butts."
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Mitch stood up. "Hold that thought. I'm gonna go take a leak and brush my
teeth."
He opened the hatch and stepped halfway out into the passageway. He stopped
suddenly.
We heard Mitch say, "Joan, what's wrong?"
And then he screamed and we were a family no more.
Mitch stumbled back into the berthing compartment. His forearm gushed blood
from
a large, ragged hole. The wound was alarmingly deep. I could see tendons
inside the
hole. His free hand fumbled with his hip holster, trying to free his pistol.
The
shock must have prevented him from doing so, because his fingers slid away.
Joan
lurched through the hatchway, chewing the missing piece of Mitch
'
s arm. She was obviously dead. The left side of her face and neck had been
gnawed
off. The bites still bled, so she hadn
't been dead for long. Her hands and face were smeared scarlet.
With an angry yell, Mitch spun and delivered a kick to Joan's ribcage. More
blood
jetted from his arm. We heard Joan'
s ribs snap, yet in death, she was unaffected. The blow knocked her backward.
Grunting,
she slammed into the passageway
's far bulkhead and slumped to the floor. Then her broken form stumbled slowly
to
her feet again, licking Mitch's blood from her lips.
"Shut the hatch," Mitch shouted. He held his forearm just below the wound and
squeezed,
trying to stop the flow of blood.
I slammed the hatch shut just as Joan reached for
229
the doorway. I heard her fingernails screeching on the other side of the
steel. Then
she started pounding. I turned back to Mitch. He was crouched in the corner,
staring
at his arm in shock. Tasha grabbed a pillowcase and approached him with it.
"Here, Mitch. Let me stop the bleeding."
"No," he gasped. "Just hand me the pillowcase and then stay back. Don't get my
blood
on you. And watch out where I've already bled on the floor. Don't go near it."
"But you need help. You need--"
"I need you to listen, girl."
Flinching, Tasha took a faltering step backward.
"I'm sorry," Mitch apologized. "I don't mean to be harsh, Tasha, but I'm
already
infected and I don't want you getting it, too."
From out in the passageway, I heard Carol call out. Her voice was muffled, but
alarmed.
"What's going on? Did someone scream?"
"Carol," I shouted through the closed hatch. "Stay in your compartment. Joan's
a
zombie!"
"What?"
"She's right outside our door. Just keep your hatch closed."
I took a step forward, making a wide berth around the half-dollar sized drops
of
Mitch's blood.
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"Mitch, it might not be too late. We could ..."
The look he gave me froze the words in my throat.
"You've seen it happen, Lamar. So have I. Too many times. Infection is
instantaneous.
It doesn't matter if we cut my arm off or burn the wound or
230
pour a gallon of fucking bleach on it. We both know what's going to happen."
Tasha began to cry. A second later, Malik joined her. The muffled pounding
continued
outside.
"Goddamn it." I punched the locker in frustration. "God fucking damn it."
"Yeah," Mitch said, wrapping the pillowcase around his arm like a tourniquet.
"Believe
me, I feel the same way. But that ain'
t gonna help us right now, Lamar. Hold it together for the kids. We need to
come
up with a plan."
"We're supposed to be safe," Tasha whimpered. "You guys promised. You said
we'd be
safe on the ship. You said the zombies couldn't get us!"
"Yeah." Malik wiped his runny nose on his shirt sleeve. "How did they get
onboard?"
I shook my head. "We don't know guys. We just don't know. It doesn't make any
sense."
Moaning with pain, Mitch tightened the pillowcase. It was already soaked
through
with blood. Brushing away her tears, Tasha stripped the sheet off his bed,
grabbed
Mitch'
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