Immune-ish

Chapter Eight

XANDER:

I hear an alarm echoing through the valley off in the distance for the second time today. I wonder what's happening over there. I assume a corpse attack, but corpses aren't the only blood-thirsty things in the valley.

The day has been awfully quiet, minus the alarms. I've only shot five or six corpses, which is an all time low. Most of the creatures are probably near whatever town is being attacked. The alarm systems attract them with the volume and the scent of blood draws them even closer.

The church bell tolls once to signal the change in patrol. My work is done. I walk away from the fence, glad to be free, but dreading going back home, just like always. I could sit and daydream at the fence all day, but at home my dreams are tarnished with the nightmares that have occurred there.

I walk down the street slowly, taking my time to survey the crumbling homes. My street is long and ill-placed because it is so close to the fence, but the walk home gives me a perfect view of the sun setting over the mountains. The sky is a canvas covered in red and violet paint and the ground is basically a graveyard below it. The sky taunts us with the promise of Heaven, and here we live in Hell.

Finally, I'm home. The exterior is bad because I don't have enough time or patience to take care of it. Shingles fall off the roof and chunks of wood and brick fall off the walls. I unlock the door with my keys and set my shotgun on the wall stand next to the door. The second I step past the stairwell, I hear Chloe slam against the metal basement door that I installed myself a couple years ago when the wood one could handle her no more. I cringe, knowing that the bruises on her arms get worse by the day, but she doesn't notice or care.

She is going to break that thing down one day. In the kitchen, I grab one of the uncooked steaks out of the fridge and slice a large chunk off with my favorite knife. Corpses have to eat too. I laugh at that one just a little, though I'm not sure why. Is it possible to feel yourself going insane?

In school we learned that if a corpse goes more than a week without eating, they'll die. Many resort to cannibalism, often eating themselves. I don't want that to happen to anyone, let alone my sister. I feed her a little bit every day, just to make sure nothing happens to her.

I walk down the basement stairs slowly with the chunk of meat leaking bloody juice in my hands. I can hear Chloe moaning and walking around, trying to find an escape without success.

I reach the door and slide the small slot open and watch as Chloe jogs at the door and slams against it. She can obviously smell the meat. As she backs up I can see her right arm is bloody, the thick black corpse blood is slowly streaming down over the bruises that refuse to heal. I finally slide the steak through the slot and little Chloe goes ballistic. She dives to the ground with a growl and pounces on the meat. She bites it directly off the ground and tears at it with her teeth like a lion. She finally swallows and looks up to where I am watching through the slot in the door.

I know it's wrong to keep her here, but Zane promised us a cure within the next month. Yeah, right. But there's a small piece of me that hopes they'll be able to do it. Then I'll have at least part of my family back and maybe my guilt will dissipate just a little bit. Maybe I'll see this place as less of a hell.

Chloe stares at me, then hops up and stumbles at the door. I back away and she sticks her fingers through the slot, reaching for me or for freedom. She looks like a caged animal, I guess because she is one. I almost want to let her out, but that would be catastrophic. Instead, I push her fingers back through the slot, one by cold one. I slide the window closed, but steal one last glance at Chloe. Her glazed, bloodshot blue eyes look wicked.

"I promise I'll find a way to cure you, Chloe," I say. "I promise I'll get you back." She can't hear me so the assurance is directed more towards myself.

She slams against the door again and I close the little window, heading back upstairs to draw in my room.

"I promise."