She told her story to him—with the lies that George possessed his own shotgun, and that no one came to the house—as they sat down back in the warm, “refrigerated” section.
She recounted her encounter with George, including being bitten, and her subsequent four-day delirium.
At this, the sheriff raised an eyebrow. “So you fought off the disease?”
She nodded. “I think I did.”
The sheriff grunted. “I wonder if anyone who gets bitten, without their brains eaten, can fight off the disease.”
“I don’t know, but this is the time in the story where I need to show you something.”
She took off her backpack, placed her shoulder holster with her shotgun on the floor, and retrieved her knife. She pulled up the sleeve of her sweatshirt, and then sliced into her arm, blood appearing in a line that stung.
Marty just stood there with a bewildered look on his face.
After a few seconds, she wiped the blood clean with her fingers, revealing unblemished skin.
The sheriff gasped. “Holy cow!” Then he smiled.
Chapter Twenty-Four
Day Eight
Marty was ecstatic.
“You’re taking this pretty well,” Jocelyn observed.
“Well? It’s fantastic! I’ve got a zombie on my side!” Well, at least I hope she’s on my side.
She shook her head. “I’m not a zombie, at least as far as I can tell. Or, I might be a . . . partial zombie, if that makes any sense.”
“Well, I’m not sure what to make of it. The zombies are animalistic—they’re not rational, they just hunt. And they all have those sores, which you don’t, but you sure have their healing. They can take a bullet without slowing down. Hell, I’ll bet you can take a bullet, too.”
“I don’t know about that. But I wouldn’t think from that shotgun.”
“Shotgun’s different. But only if you get ‘em here.” He pointed to his head. “Even so, it looks like you have to literally pulverize their brain from close range. It usually takes at least three blasts to do the job.”
“So you believe I’m as indestructible as they are?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know. But maybe Alexander can shed some light on this. He’s sharp as hell, and he’s a molecular biologist, a professor with a PhD.”
“Well, I took enough Biology. If this were just a virus, I’d either be immune completely or become just like them. But a virus couldn’t bring you back from the dead, and George had a portion of his brain removed—probably eaten. You don’t survive that, at least normally.”
He stared off to the side, focusing on some food crates as he contemplated this development. But the more he tried to wrap his head around it all, the more it spun. One thing, however, was clear—this woman would make a powerful enemy, and an even more powerful ally. Finally, he said, “Well, I’m just glad you’re on my side—you are on my side, right?”
“I want to do whatever I can to reverse this zombie pathogen, if that’s what you mean.”
That was what Marty meant, but he had another thought. “Hey, if we can get you to Colorado Springs, maybe they can study you, find a cure.”
“That was my thinking. Do you think you could . . . ?” Jocelyn trailed off.
“You want to know if I can go with you to Colorado Springs?”
“Well, yes, but first I need to find a pharmacy. I have . . . high blood pressure. It’s important that I get to a pharmacy first.”
This was odd. “But that kind of medication must be at the air base in Colorado Springs. Why would you want to go to a pharmacy first? High-blood-pressure medication can’t be that urgent.” She’s still hiding something. Something about her illness.
“You said rules have changed. Do HIPAA rules apply? Do I have to tell you the details of all my health problems?”
Marty shook his head. “If I’m to accompany you to Colorado Springs, or at least let you join our group, I have to know the full story. Why did you lie just now?”
She sighed. Clearly, there was a heavy weight on her shoulders.
“I have . . . I have . . . I have a mental illness.”
Marty grunted. “One that’s serious enough that you need your medication right away.”
She nodded and sniffed. In the soft light, it was hard to see, but it looked like tears fell down her cheeks. Clearly, this was hard to admit. Marty concluded she was telling the truth.
She sighed, took a deep breath. “I get . . . paranoid delusions. I can get them at any time.” So she’s psychotic. He’d had experiences with that, none of them good. She gave him a pleading look.
“And what happens when you get these delusions?” He spoke slowly.
“I can become dangerous. To everyone around me.”
She started to weep, averted her gaze and looked down. “Right now, I don’t trust myself, but when I get the delusions, I won’t trust you, I won’t trust anybody.”
“I see.”
She looked back up at him, and now he definitely saw the tears streaming down her face. “With all due respect, sheriff, I don’t think you do. I don’t want to be responsible for killing you.”
He sat down on the concrete floor, cross-legged. “Have you killed anyone before?” That was the million-dollar question.
But she shook her head. “No, but I’m not sure what I’m capable of. I’ve been under a lot of stress.”
“So you are lucid now. Have you had an episode since you went off your meds?”
She nodded. “I still need to finish my story.” She told him how she’d heard voices and attempted suicide but could not because of her healing powers.
What a tale. Despite everything he himself had been through, he couldn’t help feeling sorry for her.
She wiped the tears off her cheeks, and Marty took his eyes off her. His gaze landed on her sword, glinting in the light coming through from the narrow windows in the doors.
“How many people have you told
