“But the government is working on a vaccine, right?” Tamsyn took comfort in the fact. “That’s what they do when some new bug arises.”
“Greg said so far the researchers can’t find one offering protection to people. At least the virus isn’t airborne.” Lowering her voice again, Sally said, “Greg told me most people who catch it die but some patients come back after death and those are the ones you have to watch out for especially because they’re like wild animals and they try to bite and scratch anyone they come in contact with.”
Tamsyn had a vivid memory of Drake’s behavior the day she’d brought him into the hospital but he hadn’t died and revived. “Come on, Sal, you sound like a person in a horror trideo. When humans die, they’re done. They don’t rise up and become monsters. It’s laughable. Greg must have been teasing you.”
A stubborn look on her face, Sally said, “A friend of Greg’s who’s a first responder said there are some sections of the city where groups of these flu victims have joined up, like a pack, and roam, trying to hunt down people to infect. He said the police are overwhelmed and the military might be coming in from the capital to handle it.”
“Now I know you’re making this up,” Tamsyn said. “You can stop any time. I already loathe the city, no need to make me even more reluctant to go there.”
“You can make light of it all you want,” her friend said, “But something is definitely wrong there. I was scared going to the transit hub by myself after Greg went to work and that was in broad daylight. And I’ve only had one text com from him since I got home and I’m worried. I’ve called and left him messages but he doesn’t respond.”
Tamsyn was at a loss for how to cheer her friend up. Sally had obviously built the flu epidemic up in her head into a huge ominous catastrophe. Sure it was sad and she was sorry for the people who were sick and their families but this was ridiculous. She bit her tongue though and murmured appropriate remarks about how busy Greg must be at the hospital and surely Sally would hear from him in the next day or two. “He sounds like such a good guy.”
“He is,” Sally said in a dreamy voice. “I really do think he’s the one. Stevr was fun but Greg is the man to build a life with. Ready to be a bridesmaid?”
Glad her friend was in a better mood, Tamsyn said, “Of course, even if you make me wear puce.”
“I don’t even know what color that is,” Sally admitted. “So no worries. I’d better get back to the school. I left the clerk by herself. This was fun. I’m glad you called me.”
“Me too.”
Tamsyn dropped Sally off at the library since her friend didn’t drive and then she turned the truck toward home.
While she drove she tried to pick up a newscast on the truck’s com net but the reception was notoriously bad out here and all she got were garbled fragments. Turning it off with an angry flick of her wrist, she settled in with music instead and arrived at the private road leading to her long driveway in an improved mood. The road needed grading again which was yet another thing on her list but as long as her vehicles had antigrav assist she could keep shoving the task into the background.
As she drove up to the house, she saw Piers lying on the grass in front of the steps, with Rasty kneeling beside him. Heart sinking, she muttered, “Oh no, not another flu case.” She’d have to go to town again with poor Piers and hand him over to the soldiers for care. Parking and getting out of the truck’s cab, she said, “What happened to?—”
Rasty rose to his feet and Tamsyn tried to scream, although the sound seemed trapped in her body. His eyes were milky white, glowing in the late afternoon sun and he’d grown fangs. His arms were covered in the hideous red and black tracery of the virus and his fingers had elongated and sprouted lethal curved talons. His face and clothes were bloody and with one horrified glance Tamsyn saw he’d apparently been tearing at poor Piers’s body. She backed away, fumbling for the door handle and threw herself into the truck as Rasty was a step or two away. He slammed into the door and began banging his head against the window. She scrabbled for the stunner she kept in the small compartment under the dash. Trying to ignore his growls and screams and the bloody prints he was leaving on the glass, she slid over to the other side and pulled out her handheld.
She was shaking so hard she dropped it and had to fish it out from under the seat. All the while Rasty kept slamming into the window and as her fingers closed on the hard case of her handheld, she heard the first telltale cracking sound. The groundtruck wasn’t engineered to withstand the battering Rasty was giving it. He’d acquired unusual strength too.
Tamsyn tried to call the emergency line but the com wouldn’t go through. Rasty broke through the window, heedless of the cuts he sustained in the process and lunged at her. She fell out the opposite door and ran for the house. He slid all the way across the truck seat, falling into the grass on the other side and immediately rising to shamble after her.
Spinning as she reached the steps, she hit him with the full power of the stunner. At first she thought it wasn’t working but then his knees buckled and he fell. The eerie eyes remained open, fixed on her, and his body twitched and lurched as if he was trying to crawl to her. She sent a second charge into him and finally Rasty’s eyes closed.
Tamsyn collapsed onto the bottom stair, shaking, chest heaving and burst into tears. Rasty had been like a father figure to her especially since her dad died and now he was some thing, trying to kill her. And had killed Piers. She flicked her gaze to the body of her unlucky ranch hand and shuddered. Her lunch came up and she heaved into the bushes at the side of the steps. Wiping her mouth, she knew she needed to report all this to the sheriff. Her handheld had fallen to the grass so she retrieved it and tried the emergency channel again to no avail.
“I’ll have to drive into town,” she said out loud.
Turning she walked past Rasty’s paralyzed body and started up the steps again. A low growl was all the warning she got before his hand closed around her left ankle and he yanked her off the stairs. She banged her elbow, hitting the funny bone and dropped the handheld but managed to retain her grip on the stunner as she fell. She fired straight into his face, aiming for the hideous glowing eyes and he flinched but didn’t fall. His fetid breath washed over her as she screamed and shot again and again until the charge was exhausted. Rasty’s grip loosened and he fell to the side, eyes still open.
Tamsyn scrabbled to her feet and ran into the house, taking the steps two at a time. She slammed the door behind her for all the good it would do and ran to the office for her blaster. She heard him banging on the door, ramming it at full strength over and over, the way he’d attacked the truck window. Did he not remember how to open a door in this state? Lucky for her.
“I warn you, I’ll shoot to kill,” she shouted, hoping there was some higher function left in his brain.
At the sound Rasty’s growls became louder and he redoubled his effort to break through the door.
Tamsyn took aim and flicked off the safety. If he made it through the door, she would carry out her threat. This creature from a nightmare wasn’t Rasty.
The door flew open and Rasty came barreling through. She shot out his left knee, hoping she wouldn’t have to kill him but to her horror, although he fell, he continued to advance, crawling, dragging himself toward her with his huge claws, leaving long grooves in the old wooden floor. She lined up her shot and drilled the center of his forehead. The blast sizzled and struck and he slumped face first not three feet away from her.
She retreated to the office door and slumped to the floor herself, clutching the blaster and sobbing.
Eventually she admitted she couldn’t sit there forever. Rising, she went gingerly to check on the body, blaster at the ready but what was left of her foreman and friend was truly dead this time. Black ichor oozed from his corpse, staining the floor and smelling like putrid fish. Gagging, she retreated to the bathroom and washed her face in cold water. The realization hit and she staggered—she’d murdered someone.
“It was self defense,” she whispered to the mirror but she’d have to go turn herself in to the sheriff. Nonetheless.
Chapter Five
