One Year After the Outbreak
The waves crashed onto the beach, filling the silence that followed after Peter had finished telling his story. Heather dried the tears that had dripped down her cheeks.
"I'm sorry, Peter," she whispered.
"It's okay, Heather," Peter assured her, but Heather didn't think he sounded so sure of himself.
"I'm sure the older lady got safely away with her son though," Heather offered, wishing to give Peter some comfort.
"If you say so," Peter sighed, "But that's all in the past now. People move on."
"Yeah, they do," Heather agreed, wondering what she should say next.
This was easily solved though because suddenly, she heard a whine in the air. She sat up, looking around.
"Did you hear that?" she hissed to Peter.
"Hear what?" he asked, sitting up as well.
The whining came again.
"That," said Heather.
"Yeah," said Peter, who had definitely heard it this time.
The whine was quickly turning into a low buzz, a guttural noise that could only mean one thing. An infected.
"Get up," Peter instructed, clambering to his feet. Heather did so as well.
Glancing down the beach, they both saw a quickly approaching figure.
"Up the stairs, to the pad, now," Peter exclaimed, his heart beginning to beat hard against his ribcage.
Heather was frozen. She hadn't been this close to an infected for a solid two months now. It was so close, she could hear the low scream it was emitting. Suddenly, she was being pushed. It was Peter, shoving her towards the stairs that led up to the pad.
She began to move, but then out of nowhere, an infected appeared in front of her. The bottom half of it's mouth was missing and only a high pitched whine could be heard from it. They had ganged up on them. Heather screamed, stumbling back into Peter.
"Run! Up the stairs!" Peter shouted at her, pushing her off to the side and swinging at the infected, so that it fell to the ground whereupon he stomped on it's head.
The second infected was rapidly approaching. Heather needed help, Peter was right behind her, wasn't he, she just needed to get Isaac or Mike, Jesus, she felt faint. She ran blindly. By the time she reached the top of the stairs, the scream was around her. The infected was close.
Heather ran headlong into Micky.
"Hey what's-," Micky began but Heather sobbed, "There's an infected on the beach."
"Okay, don't panic-," Micky began again but Davy pointed out, "But Peter isn't in the pad."
Micky cursed and pushed past Heather. Davy quickly updated Mike and Ronda before heading upstairs to wake Isaac. Mike began sprinting down the wooden stairs, Ronda right behind him. When he got to the bottom, Micky was pulling off a thin looking, purple veined man off of Peter.
As Micky held the infected, Ronda swung her bat, which she must have picked up on her way out of the pad. The end of the bat connected to the side of the infected's head, indenting it. It shrieked, Ronda swung again, and the struggling form went limp.
Mike yanked Peter up to his feet. He had the bloody liquid the infected produced in order to infect others coating his neck and shirt. It had beat him up pretty good as well.
"Did it infect you?" Mike demanded.
Ronda and Micky quietly looked on. Davy came pounding down the wooden steps. By the look on Peter's face, Mike didn't need a verbal answer. Mike squeezed his eyes shut.
"I… I think it did," Peter answered, his voice cracking slightly.
"Infected? You can't know that though, I mean, you didn't open your mouth or anything," Micky rambled.
"No, but it tried to put its fingers in my mouth," Peter told Micky.
"Yeah, but that doesn't mean automatic infection, you're probably fine Peter, I mean-," Micky continued to ramble but Ronda stopped him.
"He is infected. We have to get rid of the problem. Trust me, the longer you wait, the worse it is," she stated.
"Peter is not a problem, he's our friend," Davy said defensively.
"My wife, she got infected and I thought it would be easier to wait. It wasn't. She infected our sons before I could stop her after she turned," Ronda flatly informed Davy.
"Well, I'm sorry about that, I truly am, but I won't let you hurt Peter," Davy insisted.
"We still don't know he's infected though guys, he really could be okay," Micky piped up.
"Can we go back into the house?" Mike asked, finally speaking, "And stop talking about Peter as if he weren't here."
"We should check around, make sure nothing else is lurking about," Davy pointed out. Ronda nodded.
"Yes, you go up with the others, Davy and I will check," she said, understanding that she had hit a nerve with Mike.
Ronda and Davy wandered off to check the grounds surrounding the pad. Mike, Micky, and Peter slowly walked back up to the pad. When they got there, Heather was sat on the lounge chair, sobbing into her hands. Isaac had an armed wrapped around her. Upon the group's entrance he glanced up. His eyes went wide.
"What happened?" he asked, suddenly standing, going over to inspect Peter.
"I'm infected," Peter said, his voice sounding distant.
"He can't be infected though, we don't know for sure, right Isaac? I mean, you're a doctor, you can help him or like check or something, right?" Micky demanded.
"Micky, why don't you go get something to drink for Peter, that would help me figure this out," Isaac said gently.
Micky stared at Isaac for a moment but then nodded, heading into the kitchen.
"Peter! Peter, I'm so sorry, I'm sorry," Heather wailed. One crisis after the next, Isaac thought.
"It's alright Heather, it wasn't your fault," Peter assured Heather.
"I should have heard it before it came up on us, I'm sorry," Heather continued. Peter went over to her and sat down next to her.
"Don't blame yourself Heather, for me," Peter pleaded. Heather looked at him.
"O-okay," she sniffled.
"What do we do Isaac?" Mike asked the older gentleman.
"There's no doubt he's infected," Isaac stated bluntly.
"I know," Mike nodded.
Micky returned with a bottle of water and handed it to Peter. Peter smiled his thanks, taking the water bottle.
"How much time do… do you guys have before I, um… turn or whatever?" Peter asked. It took Isaac by surprise.
"Well… the fever should set in soon, tomorrow probably. That will last for a day and then… then your time is up," Isaac replied. Peter nodded his head, taking a long gulp of water.
"We can do something to help him though, or- or," Micky trailed off. He sat down on the floor.
"Micky, calm down man, we'll figure this out," Mike assured him.
It had been a long while since Mike had seen Micky like this. The fella had always been strong, a reliant support for Mike when he faltered and a stone pillar for Davy and Peter. Seeing him on the floor, on the brink of tears, it was strange.
"Figure it out? Yeah, okay, sure we will Mike," Micky grumbled bitterly. There was a moment of silence after that, save Heather's sniffling.
"You have to kill me," Peter said, breaking the silence finally, "It's okay, I mean, I don't want to turn into one of those things and… hurt anyone, I don't want to hurt anyone."
"Peter, you have some time," Isaac began but Peter shook his head.
"No, waiting will make it worse, it's better to say goodbye quickly, like Ronda said," Peter insisted.
"I can't believe you're talking like that Peter! You can't just give up!" Micky snapped, leaping to his feet, "We can't just let you die, okay!"
"We aren't going to let him die," Isaac said but Micky cut him off.
"Okay then, what're we gonna do? Huh? What are we going to do?" Micky wanted to know, and despite his harsh tone, he really wanted to know.
No one answered immediately. Heather stood up, apologized again to Peter, and then ran upstairs. By that point Davy and Ronda had returned from checking the beach.
"There aren't any other infected around," Ronda announced.
"Peter, are you feeling alright? You look… woozy," Davy inquired, feeling lame for asking such a question in spite of the current situation. It all felt so surreal, as if none of this was really happening.
"Feeling alright? Jesus, he's been infected, he's-," again Micky was at a loss for words, but this time he trailed off into tears.
"Get ahold of yourself Micky, crying won't help," Davy said to his friend as gently as he could.
Micky didn't seem to hear. Davy turned to Isaac.
"Is there anything we can do for him until… he turns?" Davy asked.
"Keep him in bed, give him water, keep him cool," Isaac replied with a shrug.
Mike was about to say something when Peter collapsed. He tried to open his eyes but they wouldn't open all the way. He tried to move, but his body didn't respond. Micky knelt next to him, shaking him by the shoulders. His heart seized for a moment, thinking that maybe this was it, Isaac had been wrong and he was turning now.
But he heard bits of the worried conversation, Isaac saying it was the fever, that it usually hit hard. His body was trying to fight off the virus. Mike voiced his worry about it happening so soon. Peter heard Micky telling Peter he was going to be okay. He saw the pained expression on Mike's face and the unreadable expression on Davy's. How could he have let this happen to them? Then everything faded to black.
Later that night, Mike, Micky, and Davy were having a little meeting in the living room. Isaac and Ronda had gone upstairs to bed. Heather hadn't exited the bedroom yet. Peter was laying on the lounge chair, with pillows and a light blanket draped over him. His brow sheened with sweat.
"I blame myself, I should have yelled at him or something when I noticed he was going down to that damn beach alone," Micky grumbled, knees pulled up to his chest.
"Self-pity won't get us anywhere," Mike pointed out.
"Where are we going?" Davy asked rhetorically.
"We aren't really going… going to kill Peter, are we?" Micky questioned, trying to keep the shake out of his voice.
"I dunno man," sighed Mike.
"But we can't let him turn into one of those things though," Davy countered, throwing a glance back at Peter, "He wouldn't want that."
"So which one of us is going to have to point the gun or stab him or whatever? Who's that gonna have to be?" Micky snapped. He shut his eyes for a moment and mumbled an apology.
"You get Ronda to do it," Peter suddenly said. Mike and Micky repositioned themselves so that they formed a circle.
"What are you doing up? Go back to sleep," Mike ordered, standing up for a moment, "Or do you need some tylenol? Isaac said I could give you that for the pain."
"No, sit down," Peter shook his head, "I don't want this conversation left unfinished."
"But… you don't want to…," Micky frowned. He didn't want to talk about this. So if Micky didn't want to talk, how would Peter be feeling about it? Talking about this and know there was no way he was getting out of it?
"I do. I'd like to apologize to you guys," said Peter.
"Apologize? For what?" Davy asked, thoroughly confused.
"For not being there for most of the year. It wasn't fair to any of you. And I'm sorry for this… but I realized what a dope I've been, how selfish I've been and when I saw the chance to save Heather, I knew I needed to take it. And I'm sorry I had to do this to you guys," Peter said at length.
"You don't have to apologize for anything Peter, you were going through stuff man," Micky shrugged.
"No," Peter shook his head, "You all went through stuff too. I have no room to escape the blame."
"Well I'm not gonna sit here and listen to you say it was your fault you got infected," Mike insisted.
"I don't care, you're getting off topic," Peter paused for a moment, "I want you guys to promise me that you'll let Ronda, when the fever's broken, you'll let her take me down to the beach and do it there. And no one but her, I don't want any of you or Heather to see anything."
"Thought you had your mind set on getting it done with early," Mike commented, almost bitter.
"You guys need a little bit of time to say goodbye, I realize that now," Peter stated, "And, anyways, when Ronda's finished, you guys can either bury me or I want you to set my body adrift in the ocean. I don't want you guys to burn my body."
"Okay, I think we can do that," Davy said. He was surprised that he hadn't cried yet. All of this seemed very dream-like and he half expected to wake up soon.
"Now, I want you guys to promise, and I really do mean promise, that you guys will kill me. I don't want you guys to let me turn into one of those things. I'm not going to hurt you or anyone else, more than I already have," Peter stated firmly, looking directly at Micky.
"Hey, why am I getting that look?" Micky sniffled.
"You're all thinking it, just letting me turn, I would be if the situation was reversed, but Davy and Mike aren't gonna back out of my wishes. I know you don't want this to happen Micky, but it has and it will," said Peter.
Micky looked at his feet.
"I know… I just…," he trailed off and rested his head against his knees. Davy wrapped an arm around him.
"We're gonna get through this," Mike assured him, "We promise we'll listen to you Peter."
The four of them spent most of the night talking about this and that. Peter drifted in and out of sleep, Mike giving him some tylenol around 12:30 AM. For the rest of the night and the wee hours of the morning, they didn't discuss what was soon to come. They told random stories that came to mind or reminisced about the past.
By the time the others fell asleep on the living room floor next to Peter, it was four in the morning. There was nothing to say about the rest of the early morning. Davy woke up first, his back cracking loudly as he sat up, due to the awkward position he had fallen asleep in.
"Good morning, Davy," Isaac greeted.
"Hi, Isaac," Davy responded, frowning after a second. There was a grave look on Isaac's face.
"What's wrong?" Davy questioned.
"I believe Peter's fever broke. I didn't expect it to break so soon, but the virus affects everyone differently and plus, it's probably mutated to be faster," Isaac said slowly.
Davy shut his eyes and pushed away the sickening feeling.
"So… does it happen now?" Davy asked.
"I wouldn't wait too long," Isaac confirmed.
Davy nodded. He knelt down next to Mike and shook him awake.
"Mike, we have to say goodbye to Peter," Davy informed him, "But don't wake Micky."
Davy had, last night before he went to sleep, decided that if it was at all possible, he would prevent Micky from knowing anything until after everything had happened. He had divulged his plan to Peter, who had agreed.
"What? I thought… we have another day at least?" Mike frowned, quietly getting to his feet.
"I'm afraid not, I'm sorry," Isaac shook his head.
"We better go get Ronda, get this over with," Mike mumbled, "I'm, uh, I'll be out on the porch for a minute."
Davy decided to go outside with Mike, leaving Isaac to go upstairs to wake Ronda. Unknown to everyone at the time, Heather had been awake and was hiding. And she had a plan. Upon hearing that Peter was probably alone, she revealed herself (she had been hiding in the closet).
She grabbed onto Peter's arms and dragged him over to the bathroom. She leaned him against the tub, draping a warm blanket over him.
"I won't let them hurt you Peter, I promise," she whispered and then she exited the room. She shut the door and took the key to the bathroom she had found in a conveniently labeled box out. Just as she was locking the bathroom door, Isaac and Ronda came down the stairs.
"Fellas? Where's Peter?" Isaac shouted, suddenly alarmed. Mike and Davy ran back inside.
"Oh god," Mike wheezed, unsure if he could handle facing an infected Peter right now.
"It's okay, he's fine," Heather piped up.
"What's happening?" Micky yawned as he sat up, finally awake.
"Heather, what do you mean he's fine?" Mike inquired.
"None of us want to see Peter dead, so I thought we didn't have to. I mean, he'll be safe in the bathroom and as long as we don't open the door or anything, we'll be safe too and he doesn't have to get hurt," Heather explained.
"Heather, did you put Peter in the bathroom?" Ronda demanded.
"We don't need showers or anything, and I gave him a blanket so he won't get cold. He can be safe in there and we can be safe out here and the door locks, there's nothing wrong with it," Heather continued.
"Okay Heather," Isaac began, seeing how hurt Heather was, but Ronda beat him to the punch line.
"Get out of the way, you're being stupid. He won't be Peter soon and we can't keep an infected in the house," Ronda snapped.
"No!" Heather yelled, "None of us want Peter to go, maybe he won't be the same but-" Heather glanced towards Micky, Mike, and Davy as if they were going to help her.
"Heather, c'mon babe, just give Mike the key okay, it's gonna be alright," Micky sniffled.
"Yes, before anyone else gets hurt," Davy added. Mike held out his hand for the key.
"How can you guys do this? Peter never did anything to anyone! I won't let you hurt him, I promised!" Heather sobbed, pressing her back against the bathroom door.
"Heather, you are going to get all of us killed. Infected make noises, lots of noises, that attract other infected," Ronda explained.
"I'm sorry kiddo," Mike mumbled and darted forward, scooping Heather into his arms.
"No, no, no! Put me down! Stop!" Heather shrieked, hitting Mike as hard as she could on the back. Ronda marched forward and kicked the door, once, twice, and then it was laying on the floor.
"No, please, please don't hurt him! Stop! Please!" Heather sobbed. Mike handed her to Micky who immediately wrapped her in a firm hug, keeping her away.
Ronda entered the bathroom.
"He hasn't turned yet, has he?" Isaac asked, realizing just now that Ronda was unarmed.
"No… I don't understand…," Ronda said, walking out of the bathroom, walking out with Peter.
"What's going on?" he asked.
"Peter! Let me go!" Heather shouted, trying to bite Micky but not succeeding very well in this endeavour.
"Your fever broke… and well… now you're supposed to be infected?" Isaac said. Peter looked down at himself, a hand going to his forehead.
"I don't feel infected… I have a headache but I don't think that counts," Peter informed them.
"Are you sure his fever broke?" Davy asked, going over to Peter and tugging the taller man down a little so that he could feel Peter's forehead.
"Positive, I wouldn't have risked a false alarm," Isaac assured Davy.
"So, what? He… wasn't infected?" Mike questioned.
"Mike, I was definitely infected," Peter confirmed.
"But then you wouldn't bloody well be here talking with us," pointed out Davy.
"He could be immune," Micky piped up, finally letting go of Heather who ran straight for Peter, nearly tackling him to the floor with a hug.
"Immune…," Ronda echoed, who was staring at Peter with horrified disbelief.
"That would explain it… but no one as far as I know has ever been immune," Isaac pondered, a frown creasing his brow.
"Well there's a first time for everything," Micky chirped, already convinced Peter was immune. Because this meant hope and Micky would cling to it however he could.
