She nodded, a tear flowing down her cheek. She didn’t want to live, didn’t deserve to live, but that meant she didn’t have a right to decide her own fate. She needed to put her fate into the hands of the Lord—in this case Saint Michael representing him. “I think it would help atone for my egregious sin—helping you, that is.”
“If you truly feel you have committed a terrible sin, then you should do as I ask without question.”
She took a deep breath, and her belly expanded and contracted in the physical world. “What is it you want me to do? I’ll do anything you and the Lord require of me.” She had so many questions to ask, but for now showing contrition was very important to her.
“Concentrate first on becoming properly medicated. You cannot help us if you are insane. It does not have to be the exact kind you take as long as it prevents you from breaking with reality. Do not bother to contact your physician. I doubt you will able to reach him.”
She nodded. “Things are that bad? I must steal them?”
“Yes, from a pharmacy, probably, but be aware you may find your medication already looted from some places.”
“What if I kill more innocent people until I get my meds?”
“Everyone is innocent. I suspect those responsible are dead, or draugar, but I cannot be sure. George was just as innocent as the rest of them. The difference was George attacked you, but the others did not. But everyone, including you, are innocent victims. As long as you are focused on acquiring the proper medication for yourself, you will be forgiven. And now that I know your plight, you will always be able to contact me if needed.”
She brushed tears away. “I always thought you had the ability to help anyone . . . an infinite number of people at a time.”
“Regrettably, that is not the case. And I can only help those who reach out to me, and those are the only ones whose minds I can read. We suspect someone caused this, that it did not happen without help from either humans, demons, or both, because of how unlikely such a disease could happen naturally. There have always been plagues of one kind or another, but this one seems a bit . . . specific. But we have no idea beyond our suspicions.” He paused.
“But you should not concern yourself with what awaits ‘down the road,’ as you would say. Focus now on getting your medication. Can you do that?”
She nodded. “I can.”
“Then begin.” He clapped his hands. It was loud, forcing her to open her eyes in the physical world.
Chapter Twelve
Day Zero
Alexander knew Emily was in rough mental shape (physically, she was covered in blood—and perhaps some brain matter). Janice continuously reinforced the idea to Emily that her family was in Heaven. Emily seemed to accept it each time, but then reverted to asking Vin—Prince Charming—to take her home.
His inflamed wrist was still in a lot of pain. Touching it made it much worse.
“You should have that wrapped,” Janice said.
“I suppose I should.”
“I’ll go look in the pharmacy. I’ll get you some ibuprofen, too,” she said.
“I’ll go with you,” Vin said. “I would like another peek outside. See if I can see more people.”
“I don’t think there’s anyone left,” Jize said.
Vin scowled. He appeared to like to do that. “We can’t be the only survivors. Let’s go, Janice.”
After they left, Alexander took the opportunity to talk with Jize, who hung on to Emily’s hand, both of which were bloody.
“You know, I’ve seen you in concert several times.”
“That’s good to hear,” Jize said. But Alexander detected a hint of insincerity. It dawned on Alexander that Jize needed no starry-eyed fans at this time. Who could blame him? “I think we should wash up. Emily, too.”
“Of course.” Alexander smiled, but he realized how insensitive he was being. He himself had washed up when he was in the bathroom.
Jize and Emily emerged from the bathroom at the same time Janice and Vin came back with some wrap.
“Jize,” Vin said, “help me move some tables to barricade ourselves in while they take care of Alexander’s wrist.” Jize nodded. “Emily, can you sit down here?” Vin gestured to a chair on the end of the nearest table. He guided her into the seat. “I’ll be right back, I promise.” He smiled.
Then he and Jize went to work setting up the barricade. It wouldn’t stop any determined human or zombie, but at least it would slow them down and serve as a warning mechanism.
“Hurts a lot, doesn’t it?” Janice asked, pointing at Alexander’s wrist. “May I examine it?”
He nodded. Janice put the wrap and ibuprofen tablets down on the table near Emily and gently took his wrist in her hand. She touched the swelling gingerly.
“Well, you need an x-ray to determine if it’s broken, but it looks like that won’t happen for a while.”
“If ever,” Alexander muttered. She seemed to ignore or not hear that.
“Hopefully, it’s just sprained. The wrap should cut down on the pain and swelling.”
Alexander nodded, and as she wrapped him up, he found himself impressed with her. “You act like you’ve done this before. Did you take a first-aid class recently?”
“Something like that.” She continued to wrap his wrist in silence, and then she suddenly spoke again. “Actually, I’m a retired nurse.”
That sounded odd to him. Why would someone retire from nursing so young? There was a story in there somewhere. She had seemed reluctant to give up that information. So why did she?
He thanked Janice after she finished. His wrist felt better already. She handed him the ibuprofen, and
