He was alive.

  Considerably thinner and gaunt-looking but those were the eyes of a human being. Danton checked his dual swing and tumbled away from another ziggy that lunged at him.

  Cargill blinked down at him and his mouth fell open.

  “Danton?” His voice was a whisper.

  “I have to get you out of here.” Danton chopped into another ziggy’s dome and his machete made it midway down its forehead before it slumped to the ground. The pack was beginning to turn on him. He had to get away.

  Danton began slicing at arms and hands and mouths as they drew nearer. He kicked one center mass, pushing it back into four others and creating a small gap he might be able to squeeze through. A hand grabbed his shoulder before he could jump and he smelt cold, rancid-fruit breath as another ziggy’s mouth drew much too close.

  Cargill elbowed the ziggy aside and broke the grip of the one holding him. He grabbed Danton and shoved his way through until he’d broken the pack.

  Danton was ready to fight them off; he could definitely do it from outside the pack. Maybe he could take them all down. He was fast enough even though his eyes burned from the thick citrusy smell from within the pack. But they stopped where they were.

  Danton didn’t get it.

  “I’m their… I’m their leader,” Cargill said, his hands resting on his shoulders. “We protect each other. I don’t understand it, probably something Boyle put in those canisters. Maybe it has a symbiotic effect on living humans in relation to Ziggy.” Danton didn’t know what that one word meant, he figured it must have meant ‘calming’ or some shit like that. “But that’s why they broke in the base and took me. They sensed me—sensed I was one of them. Except I’m still alive.”

  “Why aren’t they eating you?” Danton asked.

  “I can control them, for the most part. It’s a low level grunting kind of thing. I warn them away from dangers and keep the pack tight. There’s another pack following us.”

  “The ones that smell like burning wood?”

  “Yeah, that’s them. You’ve seen them?”

  “No, but I was close. Got a good whiff.”

  “Good. Avoid them. When we first saw them there were only a dozen. I don’t know where their numbers are coming from, but three days ago there were twenty at least. And I think they’re all singles.”

  “But singles don’t pack up,” Danton said.

  “I know. There’s something else going on.”

  “Boyle said there couldn’t be another group experimenting. Anyone else who could do it is too far away. Oh yeah, and if you come back to base they’ll kill you.”

  Cargill nodded. “Figures. Don’t think I’d go back anyway. It’s not safe. These guys are protecting me. Hell, they even find food for me.”

  Ziggy’s groans started getting louder.

  “I don’t think you can hang around anymore. You’re still food. It’s agitating them.” Cargill dropped his hands. Danton put his machetes away.

  He didn’t know what he was supposed to do here. His brother hadn’t been infected. Not only that, but he seemed to be thriving. WWGTD?

  Either way Danton was on his own. He figured he may as well leave Cargill be.

  “Wait a minute—what’s that stink?” Cargill leaned in close and sniffed. “You smell like… like ashes.” Danton didn’t know what he was talking about. Cargill grabbed his hands, turned them over and smelled the skin at the wrist exposed between his gloves and jacket. “It’s you!”

  Cargill shoved his hands away and growled. Ziggy stepped up behind him. Danton didn’t know what happened but it looked like he was going to have to put a fellow dog down after all. He threw a left hook, catching Cargill on the temple, sending the man back into two ziggies.

  The other man’s eyes rolled around in his head, but he stood up, assisted by the ziggies he’d fallen on.

  “So you’re one of them now.” Cargill didn’t say it like he was asking. Danton didn’t know who he was talking about but he drew his machetes again.

  “Yeah,” he said. “I’m one of them. And we’re gonna rip all of you lemon-scented pussies to shreds.”

  “No.” Cargill shook his head. “You came alone.” He was on top of Danton in a flash, one of the machetes tumbling out of his hand. Danton tried to slice at him with the other, but Cargill had his arm pinned down. He snapped his teeth way too close, but was held at bay by Danton’s hand at his throat.

  Danton felt something burning at the back of his throat and under his upper gums. It wasn’t just Cargill’s disgustingly effervescent breath, something was happening. Cargill put his weight down on his arm, bringing his face even closer and that’s when something happened.

  Cargill jumped off him just as fast as he’d jumped on, coughing and clutching at his throat. He disappeared into the pack and several ziggies glared at him as they began to move. Danton had no clue what had just happened. He stood and collected his other machete, watching the pack leave.

  He hoped it was the last time he saw his brother.

  Danton didn’t know what he was going to do, where he was going to go. He turned to head in the other direction.

  And saw the little girl standing thirty feet away in a nest of remnants of burned out cars in a semi-circle.

  He knew she would run so he didn’t, but he kept walking in her direction, his eyes darting left and right in case she was setting up an ambush. Whatever she was, he wanted to take her head off before whoever she was with got to him.

  There was something metallic and sour on his tongue. He spat but it was still there. Danton rolled his tongue around his mouth, the distance closing between him and the girl. His gums were tender.

  When they were ten feet apart the girl started walking to him. They were five feet apart when she dipped behind a twisted rusty steel door. Danton followed, gripping the handle of his machete. It was tight in the cabin of the half-crushed mini-van and he saw her slipping out of the rear window. He pushed his way to the back and saw he couldn’t exit the way she did so he kicked the passenger door with both feet until it fell off its hinges.

  She skittered over the roof of another car. There wasn’t that much clearance as another car rested on top of it. No way was Danton fitting in there, but he squeezed behind the rear of the car where its bumper was melted to another. He was in a narrow corridor of skeletal automotive remains and could see her through holes in the melted, flaked metal wall separating them.

  She twirled around with her hands over her head and then placed her palms on the wall where he was. She was toying with him. Was this how she killed her prey?

  Danton saw a thin slit in the wall and punched his machete through. She gasped, but easily slipped around it before returning to her mock-ballet dancing. He jerked his machete back, his head feeling thick and swimmy. Maybe that poison was working on him after all.

  He wanted to get away, but was unsure how to get back out. Danton supposed he could try climbing over top of the cars, but there were too many sharp edges. If he cut himself on one of them there’d be almost no way to prevent an infection.

  At the end of the corridor there was a small opening. Maybe he could get through there and get to her. Danton got down on his knees and put his head and an arm through. Brief panic struck as he got stuck at his chest but he was able to wedge through without taking off his jacket.

  Where had she gone? Danton scanned the enclosed area. There was a blanket on top of a bunch of old, rolled up newspapers and a pillowcase filled with something lumpy. This wasn’t a bad living arrangement. The cars kept out all the elements but rain, at least until winter, and Ziggy would have a helluva time getting in here. The only reason he’d made it inside was because she’d led him here.

  Why would she bring him to her home?

  His legs were weak and he leaned on a pile of tires to keep himself upright. He saw stars like he’d been sucker punched and had to concentrate on the earth beneath his feet and close his eyes as everything began spinning and he could feel the blood blasting through his veins.

  She came out from where ever she’d been hiding and began pummeling him with her tiny hands and feet, making high-pitched grunting noises. Danton swung wildly with his machete, hoping in vain to catch her. The blows didn’t hurt but if he couldn’t stop her now he had no clue what she’d do next.

  Danton was finally able to open his eyes and he chopped at her head. She easily leaned back and out of the way, coming back to give him a one-two combination to the groin for good measure. He staggered back, shards of pain lancing the underside of his belly. She stood and watched him, her head cocked to the side.

  By the time he was able to move again the stars had cleared from his eyes. He felt odd. No, odd was the wrong word. Different. Like he’d been taken from a warm bed and dumped in the middle of a snow storm. It wasn’t a shock to his system but the change wasn’t dissimilar. Everything was the same as it was a moment ago, but the view was definitely altered.

  Danton went after her again, but the energy wasn’t in his legs. He didn’t know if it was from whatever had just happened to him or if he just didn’t want to catch her. She grunted and ran around the pile of tires, slowing down to let him catch up, then speeding out of reach. He hit the tires over and over again and realized he was missing her on purpose. He started laughing.

  He was enjoying this and didn’t understand why.

  He began to raise his arm to cleave her head in two, but she grunted.

  What was odd was he almost felt as if he’d understood it. He raised his arm again. She grunted again.

  No, she was saying.

  But how? She hadn’t actually said it.

  She grunted again.

  Come with me, it sounded like.

  He should have killed her, but he followed instead.

  She walked for at least a half a mile, tracking back the way he’d come by a different route until the base was within throwing distance.

  “What are you doing here?” alarms in his head began going off.

  She pointed to the base and whimpered. She wanted to go in there, but she wasn’t big enough.

  No, that wasn’t it exactly.

  She wanted the people in there. But she was so small… she’d never be able to get them all.

  Danton didn’t think she wanted to eat them, but what?

  She pointed at him and made quick grunts.

  He could do it for her.

  “Why would I do that?” he asked.

  She smiled, but it was too much gum. He stared at her mouth, his tongue playing over where the gum line was in his own mouth. Their gums were swollen in the same way.

  Had she…

  It made sense now. She wasn’t some helpless child. She was another predator; one nobody had seen before. She wanted to make more like her, to make her own pack. And whatever she was, Danton was one now too.

  “Oh no.”

  Rage boiled up inside him, but as soon as he reached his arm back he was overwhelmed with cramps, falling to his knees. He had to hold that position for several minutes while waves of pain washed over him. His gums throbbed and pulsed until they had bulged outward.

  When he looked at her again finally something was different. She wasn’t just some creature, she was like a distant relative almost. He couldn’t destroy her. He had to protect her.

  They had to protect each other.

  Her head darted left and right as she sniffed the air. Danton could smell it too.

  Burning wood.

  There was a small pile of scrap metal behind her. She turned and pushed it away. Danton’s duffel bag was there.

  Despite the situation he found himself smiling. He had enough in there to take on a small army.

  “Hide,” he would’ve said to her, but she was already gone. Something told him to go with her, to defend her if needed.

  Well the best way to defend was to offend. Danton thought so anyway.

  He slung the duffel bag over his shoulder and dug out a grenade launcher and an AK-47.

  Danton could smell them. Burnt wood singed his nose as he strolled down the street. It didn’t take long. One of them came out from behind a two-story wall that was all that remained of a brick-faced building. It began throwing rocks at him. No, not rocks. Jagged chunks of concrete.

  Danton dodged out of the way of one that came a little too close and spied movement to the other side of him behind some double-stacked road partitions.

  He leveled off the rattler and squeezed the trigger. The partitions and everything behind them exploded into quarter-sized chunks.

  The first Ziggy promptly dropped his rocks and hid behind his wall again. Danton brought it down on top of him. While the dust was still settling he walked over and put a bullet in the ziggy’s skull as he was crawling out.

  Something roared ahead and Danton looked up to see three more heading his way. These were different. Still slow like Ziggy, but he could see purpose in how they moved. They had the same single-mindedness as Ziggy, but they actually thought as to how to achieve this goal.

  Something Boyle said floated into Danton’s mind. He remembered the brain talking about how the virus had been constant in all the subjects he’d studied. How it had always behaved in the exact same manner up to and after death. He was convinced, even though he had no evidence, that the virus had to mutate at some point; all viruses did.

  Maybe that’s what I’m looking at now, Danton thought as he peppered the three with his AK-47.

  It was how any organism thrived in unsuitable conditions. Ziggy was always a danger, but over the past few years had become less and less prevalent.

  Maybe something had happened to make it adapt and that’s where these guys had come from.

  Danton couldn’t worry about that now. They were still coming at him and if the pack were big enough they might be trying to make him use up all his ammo. But why sacrifice themselves?

  Danton had a guess. They were doing the same thing he was and it was instinctual: protecting their master. They were throwing themselves at the danger in order to protect the one that lead or created them. As soon as he’d sensed they were near he’d automatically done the same thing.

  But they were zombies. He was still alive—wasn’t he?

  His heart pounded in his chest and he could feel his blood surging inside him, but now that he saw the similarities between him and the dead people he was shooting at he couldn’t be sure.

  Maybe the virus had adapted to mimic life.

  Better leave this line of thought to the brains.

  They seemed to be concentrated around a building on the corner ahead. Danton hoped they weren’t smart enough to be trying a bait-and-switch play. He launched a grenade into the crowd and they scattered.

  He wasn’t sure how he would tell which one was the head ziggy, but he had a sense he’d know it when he saw it.

  The building looked as though it had been shelled a few times, that it would topple like a house of cards with one good shove.

  Danton loped inside, his AK leading the way. A ziggy at the top of the first flight of stairs leapt out of the way as he chased it with a trail of bullets. He was about to go up, but those stairs didn’t look right. Danton kicked at the first one and it crumbled like it was made of cardboard.

  That meant that they were setting a trap.

  Danton dived back out of the building as a center foundation gave. The whole thing groaned and fell into the building next to it. The ziggies nearest him became agitated, some throwing their heads back and howling, some clawing at the air, all of them converging on the remaining structure.

  It groaned but stood. Danton whirled and squeezed the trigger on the grenade launcher, but it clicked on empty. He tossed it away and grabbed the AK, still slung over his shoulder. He didn’t have enough rounds in the magazine to take them all on and didn’t have enough time to reload, so he fled into the building, hoping to buy himself time and catch them in a pinch-point.

  But if their master were in here, they might fight even more furiously to protect him.

  He ran down the main hall and stopped at the stairs. There was no way to figure where the master would have gone, but he guessed it would have gone to high ground. Maybe the roof to see how the battle went.

  Danton threw open the door and pounded up the stairs. Despite its load being significantly lightened by the absence of the grenade launcher, the duffel was still heavy. He couldn’t afford to give it up, though. Who knew if these things knew how to fire weapons?

  The door pressed open behind him before it could shut and Danton turned and fired until the AK clicked on empty. He didn’t have time for headshots, but if these things had enough of an appreciation for bullets to dive out of the way when fired upon then this should buy him some time.

  He tried to locate another magazine by hand while running up the stairs, but had to draw his sidearm and shoot a ziggy that opened a door at the top of the flight of stairs leading to the third floor. It fell and after he stepped over it he gave it a heave down the stairs.

  They were drawing closer again when his hand closed around the 12 gauge in the duffel. Danton didn’t remember how many rounds he had, but he got down low and turned as one reached for him no more than three feet away. He squeezed the trigger and its head evaporated. The others pushed it aside and Danton racked the shotgun and fired center-mass into the next one.

  It didn’t go lifeless like the first, but struggled against the blast, managing to knock two others down just behind it. He racked again and took another one’s head off before racking and turning back to the stairs.

  He was almost to the fifth floor when he could feel them just behind him again. Danton turned and pumped three rounds into the surging crowd before dropping the empty shotgun.

  The mob of ziggies had to climb over the litter of bodies in his wake and he fed the first two a few headshots apiece before his sidearm was empty.

  He put it back in its holster out of habit, but brushed against something on his belt loop.

 

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