Virus

Chapter 2

WARNING: Mature language

  The faces are what alarmed me the most. They were around every window, peering in at us from every single angle. I thought the insanity had finally managed to creep into my brain and consume it, devouring it like the same monsters that were outside.

"You two," a voice commands us. "Get outside and on the ground. Now!"

Francis and I are groggy enough that we have partially no idea what we're doing. We open the door, kneeling on the asphalt. I only begin to realize how real this is when a man pulls out his gun and starts walking in circles around us, ready to shoot. I can hear the others looting through our stuff, pulling out weapons and cans of food to inspect it.

"Travis, should we take it?" I hear a woman call, and look over my shoulder, only for an aching pain to erupt in my cheek when a gun is thrust to my face.

"You will not move," the guard - and apparently the leader - growls. "Move again, and I won't hesitate to put this bullet through your skull."

He removes the gun when he's satisfied with my response, and answers the woman calling to him. "Hold on! I want to know what their business here is. Then we'll decide."

I feel his eyes on me, cold and prying. This man is not a very docile man, not the kind I'd expect to find in a nice neighborhood like this. Awkwardly, I find myself shuffling, suddenly uncomfortable with his eyes grating over the top of my head like cold, gray stone. "How many rotters have you come across?"

"Rotters?" I can't help but look up at him in confusion. "I'm sorry, I . . . I don't know what you mean by 'rotters.'"

"Rotters. The undead. Whatever you want to call them." His voice is rough, like sandpaper. "How many have you come by?"

"I . . . I don't know. Ten, maybe."

"You kill any of them?"

"No. To be honest, we were both so focused on getting somewhere safe we just sped up and kept driving."

"Were there others?"

"What?"

"Were there others in your group? Did they get picked off by the rotters?"

"No. It's just us. It's only been us."

He crouches down, so he's practically nose to nose with me. I have a feeling he would be, if I wasn't looking at the ground in discomfort. "Do you have any idea what you're doing out here?"

I glance up at Francis, who shakes his head. "No. We have no idea what we're doing or where we're going. What about you?"

The question must have come off as insanely cold, because in a moment, he's straightened up and pulled a knife out of his pants. I can feel the cold blade against my throat, pressing against a vein. For a strange instance, I feel calm, almost like this was a completely normal occurrence, and then the fear began to choke me. My throat began to close and my breath got ragged. The knife comes away.

"I think we can trust them." He looks the both of us up and down, narrowing his eyes. "For now. But if either of you try anything, I'll take you out back myself and tie you to a tree so you can't escape when the rotters come."

They let us stand, all of them watching us like hawks. I notice a woman with shoulder length brown hair holding our bag full of weapons and food as we start walking. There are at least two other men behind me and Francis, as well as the man who'd threatened to kill me more than once.