Black Box: Book Three

46 ~ Infected Town (Part Seven)

I've been losing time. This is my third attempt at typing this out. I'll sit down at the desk to start writing, and suddenly it's three hours later and I'm on the porch finishing a pack of cigarettes. When I go back to the computer, a blank Word document is staring at me.

But it's not only when I'm trying to write. The first blackout I can remember happened shortly after we came back from our . Since then, they come at least two or three times a day. I'll walk into a new room and suddenly realize I can't remember what I've been doing for the past half hour. I'll complain of being hungry and suddenly we're sitting in front of the TV eating pizza. I'll be in the shower and suddenly I'm in bed with the lights out.

Blake and Heather don't feel odd, and they say I act totally normal during the times I can't remember. Blake won't let me quarantine myself in my room, as I know I should. He also stubbornly refuses to take Heather and get back to San Francisco. He says there's a good chance they're already infected, too, and he won't risk spreading it. He also won't leave me. I know it's selfish, but I'm grateful. He and Heather keep arguing about it. She stormed out a couple minutes ago to take a walk, because he won't give an inch. Too bad she didn't drive herself - she hadn't wanted to pay for gas.

I promised myself I'd take you through this chronologically, though. The memory loss makes it impossible to promise I won't leave anything out.

We didn't go into town the next day. I was (am) still traumatized after seeing that creature and I wasn't sure I ever wanted to go back. But I also didn't want to leave yet. The laptop from Hillside Apartments was wrapped in a plastic bag and ignored on the counter. I drank most of the day away. Heather and Blake argued on and off about leaving ("Please, babe, let's just go. Leave her here. It's not even our problem.") But Blake is my best friend. He was mine before she ever came along. He'd never leave me, and he let her know it. He's also as curious as I am as to what's going on.

Around three in the afternoon that day I got a text from the Oregon number. It said "HEllo beautiful. so Happy youv3 decided to stay. i'm tHrowing a littl3 party in your Honor. wE can't wait. see you soon!"

I deleted it shortly after writing it down. "He" again. Who is "He"?

The morning of the 19th I woke up feeling braver after about three hours of sleep. I kept thinking of that text from the Chicago number about the high school and the promise of answers. I had to go back. I'm pretty sure I'm infected, and if that's the case then leaving is not an option. My only chance is to figure out what's going on. Maybe I can stop this somehow, even if it means burning the town to the ground. Maybe there is a cure, or a source, or something.

Heather didn't come with Blake and I when we headed into town that day. She's scared and furious with me for getting them into this. I don't blame her. I feel really guilty about it. They knew everything I knew when they agreed to come, but I was the one who'd unearthed something that should have remained buried.

We'd seen the high school on our drive that first night, and it wasn't hard to find again. It's a tall gray building with red double doors, the sidewalk lined with trees, very picturesque. The sign out front said Charles M. Hadwell High School.

I'd thought the apartment building had been tough to get into. This one was locked up tighter than a drum, a stark contrast to the houses on the very same block with their doors wide open. The front entrance was heavily chained and padlocked - we decided the crowbar would be a last-ditch effort here. The chain was so tight around the handles we doubted we'd be able to get the leverage to break it in any case. First we circled the perimeter and found three more doors, all metal, locked tight. All the moldy windows on the first story had bars over them.

There was, however, a fire escape, and the windows on the upper floors weren't barred. Conveniently enough, the ladder was already lowered to the ground, ready to use. We climbed through an unlocked window on the third floor. Again, we were wearing respirators, gloves, long sleeves and beanies. Though I doubt it mattered anymore.