Outbreak

Chapter 10

Quinn

"Let's try this again," I say gently. 

Michael sits uncomfortably on the other couch across from me in the living room, with Mal drawing in the armchair across from us. He's told me and Eric that he'd rather be outside on the mission about a hundred times, but I made him stay and help Michael regain his memory. 

"Remember, your name, where you lived, and your age." Michael nods, takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes, eyebrows creased in concentration. "My name is Michael. I... I lived in Norfolk with my family. I had three sisters, a mom, and a dad. I'm sixteen." He exhales in fatigue and leans back into the couch, beads of sweat formed on his forehead. I laugh in delight. 

"Well done! You made it so much farther than last time, even remembered your family! At this rate, you'll--" I hiss in pain, and my right hand flies to grip my other arm tightly. 

Mal looks up, and his eyes narrow in concern. 

"You okay?" I smile reassuringly despite the stinging pain from the wound. "Fine. Just... scratched my arm on a broken plate. No big deal." Mal doesn't look convinced, but shrugs and goes back to drawing in the extra notebook Ez found in the store. I get up to go to the bathroom, and barely notice Michael staring at me as I pass him, too focused on the pain.

I make sure to lock the door behind me, then pull up my sleeve. I shiver when I see that the green bruise-like marks are darker, and... "There are more of them," I whisper shakily. Someone knocks on the door, and I hurriedly pull down the sleeve and turn to open the door.

"Oh... hey, Michael," I say cheerfully. I step out and start towards the bedroom, but he grabs my bad arm, and I cry out. I try to hide the reaction, but he lets go quickly, looking concerned.

"Quinn, there's no way you scratched your arm bad enough for you to be in this much pain." I rub my arm uncomfortably. "I'm... a dramatic person?" He shakes his head. "What's the real problem? I'm sure there's some way you can fix it." I look up at him guiltily. No point hiding it now.

"No medicine in the world can stop what I have coming to me, Michael. When you attacked me as a zombie, some saliva got on my arm, and..." I look away from his expression; a mix of horror, shame, and guilt. 

"Quinn, I... I'm so sorry!" He bursts out. "I can't be here anymore, I might hurt someone! I might--" I put my hand on his shoulder. 

"Dude, shut up. You're not a zombie anymore. Zombies can't think, much less talk. That was absolutely no one's fault. Well, except for that shrew who brewed up the Earthbite in his basement. There's no way the virus was natural." Michael grins. "Shrew?" I shrug. "Keeping it as nice as I can." He keeps grinning. "Sure, but... seriously, shrew?" I roll my eyes. "Shut up." He laughs, but then looks serious again. 

"Who else knows?" "Only Emmett. Please, don't tell anyone. He's working on remaking the cure as we speak, and I don't want the group to worry." He hesitates, then nods. "Don't worry. I won't. Your secret's safe with me." I smile gratefully. 

"Thank you."

Mal

I'm drawing. 

I didn't normally draw back home in Australia, but having nothing to do in a barricaded house in the middle of zombie-ridden suburbs in the middle of an apocalypse can tend to bring out new interests. When I was rifling through the stuff we brought back from the store, I found a couple notebooks and pens Ezran brought back for Quinn. So, I grabbed one and for the past few hours I've either been watching the suburbs from the balcony with Jason or designing new weapons. 

I'm adding the finishing touches to my grenade-launcher design when my brother trudges down the stairs from the top floor, looking hopeless and exhausted. I set the notebook down on the coffee table and limp over to the kitchen, where Emmett's getting food. I groan in both frustration and pain as I sit down on a bar stool and set my chin in my hand. 

"So..." I say as Emmett sits next to me with a can of kidney beans and a spoon. "You're coming downstairs for a break from research, and your go-to comfort food is... beans?" He moodily shoves a large spoonful of beans into his mouth and chews. After swallowing, he grunts in approval and scoops out another. I raise my eyebrows, and start to say something when he speaks. 

"I've been trying to remember the ingredients to the cure, and so far I have what I think is two-thirds of them. I don't know if I can even afford to test it, with the risk of getting bitten and everything..." He sighs, and eats more beans. I think for a moment. "Didn't you bring your laptop?" He nods. "I have the list, but I don't want to risk anyone else going back for more. We can't have another you." "I know," I joke. "One of me whining around the house is bad enough." He doesn't respond and continues to eat. 

I sigh and grab the can from his hands. 

"Hey!" He protests. I re-seal the can and set it in the fridge, then turn back to him.

 "I feel like there's a better way you can take a break than eating beans. Come on, let's go play a game with the group."

Leaning on Emmett's shoulder, I limp back to the living room, and yell up to the top floor, "EVERYONE COME INTO THE LIVING ROOM! WE'RE GOING TO PLAY A GAME!" Emmett helps me sit back down on my armchair, and looks at me after joining Michael on the couch. 

"What game are we thinking?" he asks with a grin. I point back to the kitchen as Eric and Jason come down from the balcony, and Quinn emerges from the bedroom, looking sleep-deprived.

"You might wanna grab some cups and soda. We're going to play Never Have I Ever."

It's time the group had a well-deserved break.