The Infection

Tears to Question

I wipe my eyes and walk out of the room. I’m not the only one alive anymore. There is at least one more person now. I walk down the stairs to see the ghostly boy standing in front of the tv. He clicks on the power button and the Spongebob Squarepants theme starts playing. He limps to the couch to sit down to watch “The Hash Slinging Slasher”. As he plops down onto the couch he groans in pain. “If you would be more gentle with yourself, that wouldn’t happen.” I say.

He turns to me and glares, “if you wouldn’t have touched that building and made it fall, I wouldn’t have to worry about hitting my arm.” he tilts his head back and lets out a long drag of air.

I start to laugh because of his stupor. He’s lost too much blood to get mad. I might be able to get some information out of him now. “Hey” I said and walked over to the couch, “What’s your name?” I asked hoping he would answer.

“Ryan” he said with a strained voice.

My plan was working, “Where did you come from?”

“A little town in Nevada, called Pioche. It’s 300 kilometers northeast of Las Vegas”

“Are there more of you?”

“No. There’s only one of me,” he chuckled, “if there were more of me, then I wouldn’t be me anymore.”

It’s amazing how much someone can annoy you without even knowing it. “How many people live in Pioche?” I asked, rephrasing the question so it wouldn’t confuse him.

“1,002 as of about a month ago.” I gawked at the number. One thousand people were alive, and I didn’t even know it. “How long have you been living out here on your own” he asked.

I was shocked that he asked me a question. He was awake this whole time. I grab the wet rag and begin to heal his wounded bicep. “I’ve been living here since before the outbreak.”

He jumped at the warm touch of the washrag. “And you haven’t seen anyone, other than me?”

He let out a deep sigh as I took the rag off his wound. “No,” I said, “this is the first time, in almost ten years, that I’ve seen anyone.” it got quiet after that, my face became blank as I thought of today’s events.

“I’m sorry,” he said, looking at me with dark blue eyes. “I’m sure you had a family too.” I looked at him with questioning eyes, How does he know that?, I thought. “You just have a big house is all. Too much space for one person to have alone.”

“It’s alright, I’m over it now.” I lied

“You should tell me about your family. What wer-”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” I cut him off.

“Alright,” he said confused and annoyed. “So how are we going to get the bullet out?” I pulled out a pair of medical tweezers that I had just in case. He looked at them, horrified. “Awesome,” he said, voice cracking.

“Just be glad I didn’t hold up a knife.” I chuckled. As he watched me sterilize the tweezers, his face was priceless. I gentilly took his arm and he looked away. “Wait a minute,” I got up and grabbed a new wash rag and gave it to him. He gave me a questioning look, “Bite down on it, it’ll ease the pain.” He laughed nervously and put it in his mouth. “Alright, are you ready?” he winced and nodded his head, “Three,” I started counting down, “two,” he squeezed his eyes tight and clenched his jaw, “one.” He began to scream as I jabbed the tweezers into the open wound. I hit the bullet right away and began to open the tongs to fit around the bullet. Ryan’s screams became even louder and tears formed in his eyes. I finally got a hold of it and pulled it out as fast as I could. Tears began to stream down his face as the blood began to pour out of the wound. I put down the bullet and grabbed the bowl of water. I slowly poured the water over the small hole until it overflowed with a smoky red liquid. I quickly grab the gauze and covered the round hole. Holding it there I told Ryan, “Keep pressure on this, I’ll be right back.” He pushed on the already seeping gauze and I turned to get the co-van wrap from the kitchen counter. Spyro was right behind me and already had it in his mouth. He put it down and rolled it over to me, “thank you” I said, amazed by how smart he was. I pick up the wrap and take the plastic off. I looked over at Ryan and his now red gauze. He wasn’t putting enough pressure onto it. I put down the wrap onto the table and picked up the alcohol, “Take it off now.” I ordered him. He did as told. I splashed it over the wound and replaced the bloody gauze with a new one. This time I held it there until I could wrap it tight enough.

“There,” I said, “good as new.” I smiled and patted the wound. He glared at me like I had betrayed him. “What?” I asked

“Nothing,” he snapped and looked back at the tv screen.

I was upset now, “Really?” I questioned, “Really? You’re going to get mad at me after I just patched you up? You know I could have just left you out there for those things to get you? I’m letting you sleep in my-” he cut me off

“I’m sorry,” he said, tears rolling down his face, “I’m sorry.” I was quiet, I didn’t know what to say. Why is he crying? Did I say something to upset him? He stared at the wall with anger and sadness in his eyes while I sat confused, wondering what this boy was thinking of. I began to walk upstairs to my bedroom when I heard him call to me, "Sonja, wait."