IV - Blood Sisters
An arrow flew across the air and struck a roamer through the head, dropping it to the ground near a mailbox labeled 'CROWLEY'. The overgrown lawn harbored many weeds and insects, all hidden by the tall grass. An arrow was stuck into the lawn— the tip of the arrowhead digging into the dirt while a worm crawled around the shaft.
Vonda approached her house with slow steps. Her eyes observed the decay of the place she once called home. The moss growing along the windows, the cobwebs hanging under the gutters, the paint in the screen door peeling off— all these details reminded her of the years that passed by since she last stood in front of her home.
Lily and Simon stood next to each other. Simon wrapped bandages around his sprained wrist while Lily stared at him. As soon as he looked back, she glanced away, now looking at the rest of the group entering the house. She grabbed Lincoln's hand and walked towards the open door.
A spider crawled across the side of the air conditioner and hid inside where the fans were. Dust settled around the corners of the living room and on the silverware in the kitchen. Ants crawled in and out of the warm refrigerator from and to the window where small cracks were formed between the wooden planks and the glass.
"I can't see anything," said Ronnie Anne.
"Here, I got you," said Clyde, turning on his flashlight.
"No need," said Vonda. "There are candles on the coffee table. There are some in the rooms upstairs too. I'll be back."
Bobby flicked on a lighter and hovered it over the candles, lighting them up. On the coffee tables were four red plastic cups, each labeled with a letter. From left to right, they were labeled T, D, B, and V.
"You can place Luna in here," said Vonda, folding the couch into a bed. "We keep her leg up, right?"
Sam nodded. She laid Luna on the flat couch and placed her leg above an armrest, causing Luna to groan.
"Hurts that bad, huh?" asked Sam.
"I would walk it off, but you know…" said Luna.
"Yeah. Don't worry. Carol, Becky, and your sister will be back soon."
Sam then kissed Luna on the forehead. Simon then glared at Luna, his eyes squinting out of suspicion.
"I hope you don't mind if I ask," said Sam, causing Simon to face her. "How'd you get outta the alley alive? I heard you scream… then I must've fainted because the next thing I remember was waking up in Detroit, surrounded by the rogues."
"Rogues?" whispered Simon.
"The worst of the worst types of soldiers. It's kind of a long story. I just want to know how you got out."
"I… I don't remember. I kind of… don't know what you're talking about. I don't remember an alley."
"You don't…?"
Simon shook his head softly. Sam scratched her head before Lincoln placed his hands on her shoulder. Sam faced him as he looked at her with concerned eyes.
"His memories may be repressed," said Lincoln. "It's what happened with Leni after my mom and dad died. Sometimes… memories can be so traumatizing that the brain just locks them away. So the person just ends up forgetting them… but that doesn't mean the memories are gone. They may still be in there… somewhere."
"I see. So what… I give him time?"
"I'm not sure. Lisa never really got around to telling me what I could do."
Sam sighed in disappointment. She then turned around and found Lana pestering Simon with questions.
"You don't remember your age?" asked Lana. "I don't keep track of the days anymore but this is like the third summer since this all started. I gotta be nine years old."
"I'm ten… I think."
"Where were you all this time? Were you always in Michigan? Didja' go anywhere else?"
Simon looked away from Lana and instead focused on the candles, seeming more withdrawn as Lana continued to talk. Sam then stepped in.
"Okay, Lana. You should give him some space. He's been through a lot, like all of us."
"Oh. Yeah, I understand."
Vonda returned to the living room carrying a few maps. She then placed them on the kitchen table, using her flashlight to read the maps. One showed a map of Cuba on one side and a map of Havana on the other side. Another showed a map of Nova Scotia, though it was labeled 'Nova Terra', and on the other side was a map of Halifax, labeled 'Nova Terra City'. And the last map showed a detailed picture of an underground tunnel system labeled 'NUMSP'— short for National Underground Metro System Project.
"I'm so confused," Vonda whispered to herself.
A lonely roamer growled as it chomped its teeth rapidly, jogging towards the source of the noise from earlier. The skin in its face had a rough and dry texture, and its eyelids had decayed to the point where its golden eyes were completely exposed deep within the socket. Suddenly, it found its chest pierced by a large wooden pike sticking out of a car. It tried to move forward, though the pike did not budge. It then looked at the three survivors running on the opposite side of the traffic jam, where no pikes poked out of the cars.
Becky turned around and looked out into the traffic jam, finding a multitude of roamers pierced and stuck in large wooden pikes. She then turned back and continued to run forward, before slowing down and looking at the mesh fences outside the parking lot of the medical center.
"We're here," said Carol, holding her knees as she took a deep breath. "If we're lucky… we'll find frozen blood bags in the basement."
"And if we're not?" asked Lori.
"You may have to give your blood to Luna. Any of your siblings, really. Without knowing what your blood type is, it's really just a guess."
"What if we're not the same blood type?"
"Agglutination."
Lori and Becky stared at each other, each shrugging softly.
"Come on, guys," sighed Carol. "Remember agglutination? We learned about it in bio."
"You were in an AP bio class," said Lori. "I spent half of my time in a normal bio class asleep."
"Well… her blood will clot and her circulation will be blocked. And she will die."
"Oh my god."
"In any case, we should hurry. If we're not lucky, we still need to hurry back for a blood transfusion. Let's just hope you two are biologically closer sisters than you thought. Or best case— that she's AB-positive."
"Universal receiver?" asked Becky.
"Yes, thank you. Was about to lose my mind here. No offense, Lori."
"You know what?" said Lori. "I don't care. High school was a long time ago. I'm just glad we still have some pretty smart brains in the group."
"I'm glad you consider me smart," said Becky. "Even though I don't know shit about biology."
Becky lifted her fire axe and swung it down, snapping the chains that kept the mesh fences locked together open. She then pushed on the fences and opened it, allowing her and her friends to walk inside the parking lot.
Large FEMA tents covered the sides of the building. Abandoned cars were scattered across the parking lot, having sharpened sticks pointing out of them. Four large numbers were spray-painted across the face of the brick building and a large black flag with a red anarchy symbol was flown above a pole next to the building.
"One-three-one-two," said Carol. "What does that mean?"
"I have no idea," said Lori. "We keep seeing it everywhere. Laborers marking their territory, perhaps. But I have no idea what that number means. No time to worry about it now, though."
Lori opened the door to the medical center, allowing Carol and Becky to follow her inside. In the lobby were flies buzzing around a lump of decaying bones and flesh covered with a nurse's uniform. Tiny spores were stuck to the corner of the lobby, unnoticed by the trio. Carol turned on her flashlight and pointed it at the corridor, revealing many piles of corpses that were almost completely decayed. The spores were all stuck into the clothes, allowing the trio to safely travel through the hallway and into the door that led to the stairwell.
Hurrying footsteps echoed across the stairwell belonging to Lori, Carol, and Becky. Carol then stepped onto the first subfloor, making her way to a metallic table that sat next to a sealed magnetic door while moving her flashlight around. Lori looked down at a skeleton that lay on the floor, fully equipped with a lab coat and khakis. Chills went up her spine as she looked at the hollow eye sockets staring upwards at her. Around the skeleton were small spores, lingering around the bones.
Meanwhile, Carol reached into the metallic table and swiped the magnetic card attached to a lanyard, ignoring the skeleton that belonged to a certain roamer killed by Missy three years ago. She then walked towards the magnetic door and swiped the card across the key. However, no doors opened and no lights turned on. She swiped the card again. Then again. And again.
"Damn it!" she exclaimed. "Let's check the generators."
Hurried footsteps echoed once again as the trio descended further down the medical center, finding themselves at the second subfloor. Spores lingered around the nonfunctional ventilators and fungi grew on the surface of the rusty generators. Becky closed her nose and reached into the fuel tank of the generators with her fire axe, opening the latch with the tip of the blade. Carol pointed the flashlight inside the fuel tanks and found it empty.
"Oh, man," sighed Carol.
The doors to the medical center opened as Lori, Carol, and Becky walked out, adjusting their eyes to the sunlight. Carol placed an empty blood bag and a bottle of rubbing alcohol inside her backpack.
"So you're saying it doesn't matter?" asked Lori. "The seven of us have an equal chance of having the same blood type?"
"Yes. But it doesn't have to be you."
"I'll do it. I'll give my blood."
"You're probably anemic, Lori."
"We all must be, right?"
"All we have to do is track down one of the Laborer's vehicles," said Becky. "We kill them and take their fuel. We power up the generator and then we get blood that is completely safe for Luna."
"They could be in a different city by now," said Lori. "It's too much guessing."
Becky saw a roamer wearing a hazmat suit. It growled and clawed rapidly, though it was chained up to the side of the building like a dog. She began to walk towards the roamer as Lori and Carol continued to debate.
"Where did the Laborers even get their fuel?" asked Carol.
All of a sudden, the low humming sound of an engine caught the attention of the trio. Lori and Carol quickly ducked behind one of the cars with the sharpened sticks while Becky quickly took cover behind a FEMA tent.
Lori peeked through the broken windows of the car, watching as a white box truck braked in front of the fence outside of the parking lot. The sound of the engine disappeared in an instant. The doors to the truck opened, with three armed survivors coming out of it. One was a Filipino man with gray fringe bangs— barely noticeable as it was covered by a trucker hat— and a connected mustache and goatee. His tan skin glowed under the sunlight while his FN-57 pistol absorbed the sunlight. He wore a white shirt stained with grime and gray cargo pants along with brown hiking boots.
Carol looked at the young woman next to her, who wore an open denim vest with a pink waistless shirt and blue jeans. A young man was behind her, wearing a gray T-shirt with rolled-up sleeves up to his shoulders and black skinny jeans.
The older man opened up the fence, taking note of the chains that were on the floor. He and the other two survivors walked into the parking lot, with the young woman finding a hazmat suit with a dead roamer inside. Blood was leaking from the side of the head area of the suit, and other fluids stained the plastic face mask.
"That's what you were looking for, right?" asked the young woman.
"Yup. Someone was here," said the older man, unholstering his FN-57. "Weapons up. We know exactly the type of people we might be dealing with."
Lori and Carol both stood up, pointing their revolvers at the three survivors, who reached for their weapons.
"Don't, don't," urged Lori. "Hands away from the guns— now!"
The young woman moved her hand away from her Glock pistol. The young man dropped his Beretta pistol. The armed man lowered his pistol and placed it back into his holster.
"Look, we don't want any trouble," said the older man, taking out his trucker hat. "I got people I care about. I'm sure you two do too."
"Wait…" whispered Carol. "He looks familiar."
"What's your name?" shouted Lori.
"My name? We got a couple guns on us, a truck full of fuel behind us, and food for the road— and you wanna know my name?"
Lori slowly cocked back the hammer in her revolver. The older man cleared his throat.
"My name is Tim Crowley. The young lady here is Fiona. And the young man is Miguel. This is nice. We can get to know each other. Why don't you go ahead and tell us your names, now?"
Lori and Carol looked at each other in surprise. Slowly, they lowered their revolvers, feeling the tense heartbeat pulse against their chest. Then, Tim pulled out another FN-57 pistol from behind and raised it.
Suddenly, Tim felt a dagger pierce through his hand, forcing him to drop his second pistol before an arm wrapped around his neck. Next, he felt the cold muzzle of a Glock pistol touching the temple next to his right eye. He grit his teeth as he stared ahead at Lori and Carol.
"Becky," gasped Lori.
"No, no, no," said Becky. "Were you going to point that at my friends?"
Lori looked at the pistol that was on the ground. She looked at Fiona and Miguel, who were ready to reach for their knives. However, she looked at them and shook her head.
"Listen, we don't really have a lot of time. I'm only gonna ask once. Give us the keys to the truck… or I'll shoot you and your little friends. Got it?"
"Becky, stop," said Lori. "It's okay. He's not a threat."
"Funny thing to say about a man who was about to shoot you."
"I wasn't going to shoot them," said Tim. "I needed them to drop their weapons."
"Sure, let's go with that."
"Becky!" yelled Carol. "Enough! Let us talk to the man!"
"Holy shit," said Fiona, facing Becky. "You're Mrs. Carmichael's daughter. She talked about you. Leni talked about you."
"Leni never mentioned a Fiona and a Miguel to me," said Becky. "You talked to my mother?"
"We worked for her. Reininger's."
Fiona then turned towards the two blonde women.
"You're Leni's older sister," she said. "Holy hell, I didn't recognize you with your long hair."
"Y'all know each other," said Tim, sweating profusely. "Great! Please talk to your friend over here."
Carol approached Tim and placed her hands on Becky's hand. She looked into Becky's eyes and lowered her hands as she continued to stare at her.
"Enough," said Carol. "This is Tim Crowley."
"Oh my god," said Becky, releasing Tim. "Vonda's father."
"You know who I am?" asked Tim, rubbing his hand. "Then, what the hell is your problem! Ouch!"
"Yes," said Carol, "...do you know who I am?"
Tim looked close into Carol's eyes. But all he could do was shake his head softly.
"Carol," she said. "Carol Pingrey. I was—"
"Ah, yes. Carol. I remember you. An unlikely roommate back in the Detroit Safe-Zone. I… I didn't recognize you with that short hair. Fiona, their hair— it's—"
"I know— it's the hair," agreed Fiona. "Both of them too. I mean— crazy!"
"This is pretty fucking overwhelming," said Miguel. "Okay, so this is Becky, Leni's friend from school. We're her friends from work. Then, this is Leni's sister. The other one is Carol, who Tim knows for some reason…? And they all know about him?"
"I can clear this up," said Lori. "Look, we're sorry about everything, but Tim… we need you to come with us. Please."
"What a damn great way to ask. By stabbing me in my fucking hand!"
"We're sorry. We thought you were a Laborer."
"Oh man, I hate those douchebags," said Miguel. "That explains a lot. She thought we were Laborers. Which is kind of an insult there, sister."
"I have questions too," said Tim. "But I came here for one thing, and I'm gonna get it."
"I don't know, man," said Fiona. "The hazmat suit looks pretty screwed up."
"You don't understand," said Lori. "My sister has lost a lot of blood and you're the only one who can save her."
"Leni?" asked Miguel.
"No—"
"Wait, wait, hold on," said Tim. "You're talking to me like we're bonded or s-something. You're acting like we know each other."
"I know you're O-negative," said Lori. "I don't know what blood type Luna is."
"I don't know who Luna is. She probably doesn't even exist."
"I heard of Luna," said Fiona, nodding her head.
"Well, I just dropped some blood onto the pavement. Help yourselves."
"Come on," said Lori. "Carol can patch that up."
"Carol? The student who complained about not graduating? Rightfully so?"
"Tim, we can help these people," whispered Fiona.
"Fiona, I don't know shit about these—"
"Vonda's alive!" exclaimed Lori.
Tim became speechless. He felt a tug on his wounded hand as Carol wrapped bandages around it. His eyes opened up, showing a glimpse of his inner soul.
Luna's heart pounded against her chest. Sweat drenched her pale face. Her breaths were short and shaky. Blood dripped down her legs and onto the couch. Her vision was getting blurrier and her head felt more disoriented.
"Luna… you with me?" echoed Sam's voice.
Luna struggled to speak. She never felt so lightheaded before. She closed her eyes and her vision went black.
"Luna!" exclaimed Sam. "Oh my god, what happened to her?"
Lincoln looked at the bandage wrapped around Luna's leg. It was completely drenched in blood, and none of the group members had fresh bandages with them. He placed his hands on Luna's lips and opened them before placing his ears above them.
"She's still breathing," said Lincoln. "She's just unconscious."
"What's gonna happen to her?" asked Lily.
"She might wake up again. Or she might not."
"Oh god," whimpered Sam before stomping on the floor. "These stupid Laborers!"
"Not so loud," said Vonda. "This house isn't as soundproofed as we like to think it is."
"We need to go out there and find a car with gas. We're losing time."
"I don't really know how to get to the medical center."
"Are you talking about the one close to Palmer Field?" asked Simon.
"Yeah," nodded Sam.
"I could get you there. I mean, whoever's driving."
"I'm driving," said Bobby.
"Woah, woah, hold on," said Lincoln. "What if they're on their way back?"
"We'll find them on the way back," said Sam.
"The roads are jammed up like crazy. You're going to take a different, way longer route than Lori and the others!"
"Then tell me a better plan!"
Lincoln shook his head. Sam scoffed before grabbing her backpack.
"I can't stop you, right?" asked Lincoln.
"Not really."
"Then, I'll help you find a car. And we do this carefully. No sloppiness. I don't like it when people get sloppy."
"And if you guys don't come back?" asked Lana.
"Have some hope," said Clyde. "We've been through nothing but bad luck. I mean— except Simon— that's lucky, right?"
"Don't jinx it, Clyde," said Sam as she headed for the door. "We better hope we still have a bit of luck left."
Sam opened the door and was met with a group of familiar and unfamiliar survivors running towards the house. She instinctively raised her AR-15 rifle, before Lori waved her hands around.
"Don't shoot!" shouted Lori. "They're with us!"
Sam backed away from the door before Lori ran inside. Behind her was Tim, then Becky, then Carol, then Miguel, then Fiona.
"Shut the door," panted Becky.
"Where is she?" exhaled Tim.
"Over here!" exclaimed Lori, running to the couch. "Luna, we're here now. What happened to her?"
"Knocked out," said Lynn. "Who are these people?"
"I'm gonna get set up," said Carol, pulling supplies out of her bag.
Tim removed the candles from the coffee table and placed them on the floor before sitting on it. Vonda approached the group from the kitchen, taking a step into the living room as visible confusion appeared in her face.
Carol poured the rubbing alcohol into the needles before wiping it against a clean rag. Next, she stuck a needle into Luna's arm. Then, she placed another needle into Tim's forearm. Blood flowed out of his arm and into the narrow tube before flowing into Luna's arm.
"Bobby, hold this tube," said Carol. "Hold it at this height. Do not lower it."
Carol then grabbed a fresh pair of bandages from her backpack and began to unwrap Luna's bloody bandage. She gulped as she saw blood pouring out of the gash in front of the shin. She grabbed her stitching kit and took a deep breath.
"Good thing she's not awake," said Lynn.
Luna groaned as she rubbed her eyes. She hissed in pain as she tried to reach for the needle in her arm.
"Damn. I jinxed it."
"Luna, leave the needle on," said Carol.
"Okay," Luna groaned weakly.
Luna grabbed Sam's hands and cried in pain as Carol stuck her sharp needle over her ruptured skin.
"Oh, I can't watch," said Miguel.
"Should it be hurting this much?" asked Sam.
"Usually it shouldn't," said Carol, stitching the entrance wound shut. "But that bullet was stupidly powerful. I'm not just stitching up her skin. I'm stitching the inner flesh too."
Small drops of blood gushed out of the flesh as Carol pierced it with her needle. She then closed the entrance wound and moved to the other side of the couch as she kept her eyes on the exit wound. Then, she got to work again.
Vonda watched as Luna whimpered while Sam continued to whisper into her girlfriend's ears. Luna nodded while Carol moved the needle up and down. She then looked at Lincoln's face, who was visibly stressed. She faced Lori, who tapped her foot on the floor nervously. She turned towards Luan, who was biting her nails. She glanced at Lynn, who was gritting her teeth. She eyed Lana, who held her hands over her mouth. She took a look at Lily, who was being hugged by Ronnie Anne.
"Done," said Carol, wrapping up Luna's wound with fresh bandages. "My goodness… I did it."
"You did it," gasped Becky.
"I did it!"
Luna smiled as she raised her head.
"Am I okay now?"
"Nope," said Carol as she pressed her hands on the wound.
"Ouch! Fuck."
"But when your bandages no longer get all red… then you'll be okay. All I have to do is press your wound… for a while."
"It really hurts."
"It should. As long as it hurts, you'll be fine."
Luna smiled as she faced Sam.
"See?" she whispered. "You'll never lose me."
Sam beamed a joyful and relieved smile at her before kissing her. Carol then unbuckled the belt on Luna's left thigh. She turned around and looked at Vonda.
"Go ahead now," said Carol. "Hug your dad."
Vonda was stunned. She looked at the man who was sitting on the coffee table, the person who just removed his trucker hat. Her eyes made contact with his eyes, which gave her the very same look it has given her for fourteen years before the outbreak. It was the look that belonged to her father. And her father was just as stunned as she was.
"Vonda…" whispered Tim.
Vonda ran up to Tim and hugged him. Tears ran down Tim's face as he wrapped his left arm around his daughter.
"I knew it," said Tim. "I missed you so much."
"I missed you more," sniffled Vonda. "So, so, so much more."
Sam rubbed her face against her arm, wiping the tears away from her eyes as she pulled Simon close to her. She then looked at Luna, who was teary-eyed as well, and smiled.
Vonda placed her head on Tim's shoulder as she continued to cry emotional tears of joy and nostalgia. Tim tried to laugh off his tears though he couldn't stop the watershed from drenching his cheeks.
"I'm sorry—"
"It's okay, Dad. You're here now. You're here."
The father and daughter continued to hug as the candlelight shimmered on the group, all reunited together.