“It gets better with time. Saul took the cure weeks ago, and at first, he struggled a lot. Why don’t you speak to him and ask him how he got it under control?”
“Maybe,” Dylan said with a frown. “We don’t get along that well.”
“You don’t have to. You just need to find out how he did it,” Tara said.
“But you said I’ve got it worse than him. If that’s true, he can’t help me.”
“I only suspect that your episodes are worse, Dylan. It might not be true.” Tara shot her a rueful smile. “Contrary to what everyone thinks, I’m not always right.”
Dylan hugged her knees with her arms. “Well, it’s worth a shot, I guess.”
“It can’t hurt,” Tara agreed, pausing for a second. “How are your injuries?”
“They’re healing. No sign of infection,” Dylan replied, studying the stitches on her forearm. It looked like a crooked line of ants crawling across her raw skin. Ridged scars were already forming, and she’d carry them for life.
“Well, if you need any help ask.”
“Thanks.”
“But the real reason I came here is to tell you that the food is ready. There’s coffee too,” Tara said with a teasing smile.
Dylan’s head bobbed up. “Coffee? I’ll be down in a second.”
Tara laughed. “Oh, and we found some women’s clothes in the master bedroom. You might want to take a look.”
“I’ll do that.”
“See you downstairs.”
Tara left, closing the door with a firm click, and Dylan climbed out of the shower. She dried off and wrapped the towel around her chest. Her dirty shirt went into the clothes hamper, and she tossed the shoes. A quick check revealed that the hallway was empty, and she made her way to the master bedroom on bare feet.
The closets were full of clothes thanks to the previous couple who lived there, and she was able to find something to wear: A sports bra and shorts, a t-shirt, tights, socks, sneakers, and a light-weight jacket that zipped to the chin. She added a belt too and tucked her machete inside. She wasn’t going anywhere without it ever again.
Dylan used the previous lady of the house’s things to trim the blood from her fingernails, comb her hair, and tie it up in a jaunty ponytail. Feeling like a million bucks, she jogged downstairs, amazed at the way her mood kept changing. I’m turning into a real Jekyll and Hyde.
Everyone else was gathered around the dining room table, and she quickly grabbed a chair. “Hey, guys.”
“How do you like your coffee?” Tara asked.
“As sweet as sin and as black as my heart,” Dylan replied with a smirk. Now that the evidence of her episode was gone, and the memories were safely tucked away, she felt a lot better. The clean clothes helped too. She no longer felt so exposed and vulnerable.
Tara passed her a cup of the steaming brew along with a heaping plate of fried spam cut into cubes and mixed with canned spaghetti in tomato sauce. To her starved stomach, it was a feast, and she dug in without hesitation.
“Mm, this is good,” she mumbled half-way through.
Amy nodded with enthusiasm. “I love spaghetti.”
Tara smiled. “I did the best I could on short notice.”
“I’ve eaten a lot worse,” Alex said, smiling back.
“So have I,” Saul agreed.
The rest of the meal passed in silence until only the scrape of cutlery on porcelain could be heard.
Dylan pushed her empty plate away with a sigh of satisfaction and sipped on her coffee. Her eyes passed around the table, and she reflected that things had turned out alright, after all. They were still alive and kicking, together in a safe place. Who could ask for more?
Chapter 7 - Tara
The blacked-out windows, thick curtains, and gas lamps made it feel like it was night outside when, in reality, the sun had risen to greet a new day. Tara doodled with her fork while she listened to the others argue about their next step.
“We need to find a safe place to hole up,” Dylan said. “A place we can defend against the infected and that has enough food and water to sustain us through the winter.”
“A safe place?” Amy asked. “If Fort Knox wasn’t safe, nowhere is safe.”
“I understand how you feel, sweetie, but we have to try. We can’t just give up,” Dylan said, leaning over to squeeze Amy’s hand.
Amy hung her head. “I know, but it just seems so hopeless.”
“Nothing is ever hopeless, Amy,” Alex said. “Fort Knox was noisy and filled with hundreds of people. It drew the zombies there. That doesn’t mean everywhere will be the same. There has to be a way to outsmart them.”
“It doesn’t matter. Not to me anyway,” Tara said, and a thick silence fell over the table.
“Why doesn’t it matter?” Alex asked. “Don’t you want to live?”
“Yes, I do, but for me, it’s about the big picture.”
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve got several months worth of research in my possession, all stored on a hard drive, plus three vials of the cure. With this, I can still turn the tide in humanity’s favor. We could take back our country. The world even.”
“But how?” Alex asked. “Where would you even begin? You’d need a lab, facilities, electricity, water, and soldiers to protect you. Not to mention manufacturing and distribution.”
“Fort Detrick, my old headquarters, is still standing and operational,” Tara said. “For the past year, I’ve been on loan to the WHO, studying the Vita virus. My real job, however, is as a Research Scientist specializing in virology at USAMRIID.”
“USAMRIID? That’s like the military equivalent of the CDC, right?” Alex said. “I didn’t think of them, to be honest.”
“Where is this Fort Detrick?” Dylan said.
“In Maryland,” Tara said.
Dylan whistled. “Maryland? That’s pretty far away.”
“It’s roughly six hundred miles from
