Not that again. “My guess,” Alexander said, “is someone intended to make humans better, but they probably never got the pathogen right, and it got out somehow. Though the issue of timing makes me think the distribution was deliberate.” He turned to Jocelyn. “We have to be very careful not to mix our blood, or any . . . bodily fluids. Now it’s my guess . . . and just a guess, I mind you, but an educated one, that saliva to saliva is fine, but saliva to blood, blood to blood . . . Who knows about sexual fluids? . . . But we’ve been killing zombies. Has anyone gotten zombie blood in their mouth?” He looked around the table.
Vin spoke up. “I did. On the first day.”
Alexander glanced below the clock to the calendar on the wall. It was open to September, and he had placed an X through the 1st to make sure they counted the days. So, it was the second, and the day the apocalypse hit was August 25. Eight days ago. Has it been that long?
“Then you’re probably fine; that’s probably long enough, but we must keep an eye on you. Luckily, the zombies seem to lose the ability or inclination to use weapons. They kill with their speed and strength . . . But since Vin didn’t get sick, we know ingested blood does not transmit the infection, at least not one hundred percent . . . Let’s hope it doesn’t, because if blood ingested orally spreads the infection then we’re fucked unless we’re immune.”
Janice spoke up. Jocelyn had noticed her mouth opening and closing a few times, trying to get a word in edgewise. “So if we swallow zombie blood, or Jocelyn’s blood—”
“Then we’re probably fine,” Alexander finished for her. “I believe it’s prudent to assume it is one hundred percent contagious, and transmitted similar to HIV.” Oh, except . . . “Although with HIV, a bite from an infected person won’t transmit the infection, and in this case it does.” What would cause that? Oh, right. Alexander pretended to pause for dramatic effect, wanting to project an air of confidence he didn’t possess. “But that’s what the sores are for. There must be sores in their mouths as well, and the bite then transmits the pathogen from the sores to the blood in the victim.”
“I have a question,” Jize said.
“Yes, Jize?” Alexander said.
“Wouldn’t these nanobots, if they are nanobots, wouldn’t they be transmitted by swallowing? Once they’re in you, they’re in you, right? Why wouldn’t they . . . I don’t know . . . get to work, so to say?”
Jize impressed Alexander, who tilted his head, thinking about this, tapping his index finger on his table. “Perhaps, but Vin has no healing ability, so it can’t work that way. Perhaps the second pathogen is a virus? Or the nanobots are only activated with the virus? Or stomach acid destroys the nanobots? Look, this is all speculation, I don’t have all the answers.”
Vin gave a mock gasp. “Is that possible?”
“Yes, Vin,” Alexander said wryly. “Even a world-renowned microbiologist can’t piece this together without more information, but the timing of the outbreak is our biggest clue.” Alexander was loath to admit that he didn’t have all the answers, but this was too important to pretend otherwise.
Now he paused because he didn’t want to say it, but . . .
“Okay,” Alexander said. “So, if Jocelyn is immune, which I suspect, since she had that multi-day fever, then she can’t transmit the virus. But she may not be immune and instead a carrier, and so we need to be careful. It is prudent to assume she is one. Also, more important, it’s possible nanobots can create the virus, and so anyone with the nanobots in their blood might contract the virus. In either case, fighting near Jocelyn is a risk, especially when she uses her sword.”
“The hilt is protected,” Jocelyn pointed out. “I won’t cut my hand.”
“True,” Alexander admitted, while looking at the hilt of her sword sticking up from behind her shoulder. “And in close combat we’re more vulnerable to zombie bites . . . Okay, we’ve exhausted that topic to death. Marty, was this the only thing you wanted to talk about, or is there something else? Otherwise, I suggest we vote on allowing Jocelyn to stay with us.”
“How can you suggest turning her away?” Janice said.
“She could be a carrier, Janice,” Vin said. “She could be very dangerous to us.”
“You heartless bastard,” Janice said.
“I’m not staying,” Jocelyn interrupted.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Day Eight
Jocelyn let her bombshell sink in.
“Well, good, that’s settled,” Vin said, after a long pause. He reached out to shake Jocelyn’s hand. “It was good to meet you, Jocelyn. I hope you have safe travels.”
“There’s a lot you don’t know, Vin,” Marty said. “I’ve only just begun to fill you in on everything I know.”
“Well, we don’t need Jocelyn here for that,” Vin pointed out. “Let’s let her get on her way, and then we can discuss—”
“I will suggest we go with her,” Marty interrupted.
“Are you out of your mind?” Vin said.
“I found the zombie bartender in the saloon. He had, in fact, come home, just like Alexander suggested he would, or at least returned to his familiar work environment. Plus, Jocelyn encountered another one in his home. That was a week ago, two days after the apocalypse hit.”
“So the zombies are returning home,” Alexander said, “but not all at once. That’s two out of what, several thousand? Sheriff, what’s the population of Beaver Park?”
Marty grunted. “A bit over five thousand.”
“So that’s two out of five thousand over the course of a week,” Alexander said. “At that rate . . .” His eyes rolled upwards. “At that rate it could take 50 years for them all to come back.”
“Or,”
