The Infected: An H1-2M1 Chronicle

Chapter 7

NOW

"Are you with me?" Ben said snapping his fingers in front of my face. I stood with my back against the wall. We had been traveling for two weeks. Every town we came across Ben said the exact same thing "I've already cleared it." I blinked several times to get the room into focus. We were in some sort of waiting room. There was a dog in the corner, long dead. Its fur plastered to its skeleton. The bloating and smell of death had already left it. "I need you here. Not off in la la land." His voice was hot in the cold room. I could feel his breath on my face he was so close to me. How did he get that close to me? I wanted to pull away from him, but there was nowhere to go except up the wall, and that wasn't a realistic option.

"Got it," I said through clenched teeth.

Lucas never got around to giving me my bag back, but I already got the most important thing from it. The picture of pretend Jasper was safely tucked away in my back pocket. The armory at the guard shack was equipped with more than just guns. I found an unusual set of weapons. I picked them up thinking they were short handled tridents. The center blade extended past the two smaller prongs on the side. It ran the length of my forearm. I initially put them down, unsure of how to use them, but I kept going back to them. Ben didn't object to me taking them. He referred to them as sai. While he was talking with the man, who was not Stan, I swiped two throwing knives and tucked them into my boots.

I tightened my grip on the handle of one of the sai; I left the other sheathed on my back. I needed at least one free hand. The sound of distant laughter filled my ears after Ben opened the door to the back room. My heart began to race and I suddenly wished I had chosen the machete or even the hatchet. Looking cool was not going to save my life. I wondered if Ben was thinking the same thing now. He had been cold, distant even, towards me since breakfast behind the gates. He was actually angry at me for sharing my food. Or perhaps, he was preparing himself for that awful thing he had to do to make it "perfectly clear" why I shouldn't run. Ben had said nothing about it since.

I hadn't tried to run either. I hadn't forgotten how quickly Ben could move or that he could overpower me. He made that clear in the hallway before that particular breakfast. Maybe that was what Lucas wanted. To scare me into submission, but that couldn't be what he used on the men. I wasn't afraid of Lucas. Knowing I didn't have the upper hand with Ben was different. Ben gave me space. He had never once laid a hand on me unnecessarily. The first few nights he allowed me to keep watch. I don't think he actually slept. I could feel him watching me the entire time. I had no plans of returning to the gates with him. I traveled with him buying time and his trust. He would sleep on the way back, and when he did I would disappear.

I closed my eyes tightly. Every fiber of my being was telling me to run. To not go into that room, but Ben was standing behind me. He was blocking the only exit, other than the one that led to the sicko. "Hey," Ben said in a harsh whisper. I opened my eyes. "There's only one of them."

I nodded slowly. He was right. If there were more we'd hear them. They weren't a quiet group, but that didn't mean she couldn't call to others on the street. We hadn't run into any, but that didn't mean they weren't out there. "Stay behind me," he said maneuvering in front of me.

I glared at him. He thought I was still weak. I had fully recovered from my illness and my side barely bothered me. I felt fine. He didn't know a thing about me. "I don't need you to protect me," I spat at him.

"Do you want to get shot?" he said. He pulled the chamber back on his gun and pointed it at the ceiling. "If not. I suggest you stay out of my way."

My eyes were the first to drop. It was clear who was in charge and it wasn't me. "If you fire that every sicko for half a mile will be on us."

"Then it's a good thing I have you here to protect me." His voice was flat. I glared at him as he entered the room. I wasn't in the mood for his sarcasm.