“Here, drink this,” Alex said, lifting the bottle of water to her lips. With his help, she managed to drink it all before slumping back down. “How do you feel?”
“I’m…cold. Sssso cold.” The next moment, she began to shake. Her limbs shuddered, and her teeth chattered so hard he thought they’d break.
Alex dropped everything and scrambled to find her jersey and hoodie. He wrapped them around her body before stripping off his clothes. Dressed only in a vest, he tried to warm her as best he could. Even then, she continued to shiver violently for several minutes.
Then, as quickly as it began, it stopped. Her cheeks flushed, and sweat burst from her pores while her skin radiated heat. With a cry, Amy struggled to throw off the clothes that covered her. “Hot. Too hot!”
Alex grabbed another bottle of water and poured it over her body. Dragging up a chair, he fanned her face with a piece of cardboard in an attempt to cool her. The entire time, Amy moaned, her face contorted. “It hurts, Alex. It hurts so much.”
“I know, Sis. I’m here for you. I’m here,” he said in a soothing voice. Never in his life had he felt so helpless. “Please, God. Don’t let her die. I’m begging you.”
After a while, Amy quieted and fell into a deep sleep, but it didn’t last. The cycle repeated itself over and over again.
Throughout the long hours of the day, Alex sat by her side. When she shook and shivered, he held her close. When she grew hot, he cooled her with wet cloths and the crude fan. He forced her to drink water, though she refused to eat and disinfected her wounds again and again until the whiskey ran out.
It wasn’t enough.
She was wasting away in front of his eyes.
The infection was too strong for her to fight.
Alex hardly dared to leave her side, afraid that if he did, she’d slip away. An entire day and night passed without any change for the better. Every time he looked at her, she was a little weaker, a little frailer.
Finally, he was forced to accept the inevitable. Unless he could get her the care she needed, Amy was going to die.
Alex jumped up, ready to scream with frustration. His sister was dying, and there was nothing he could do about it. At the top of the stairs, the undead remained tireless in their efforts to break down the door.
Twice, he’d had to reinforce the barrier to ensure they couldn’t break through, and the constant noise was driving him insane. “Three days. Three fucking days and they’re still there.”
He paced up and down, refusing to give in to the fatigue that dragged at his limbs. He was hungry, and tired, and thirsty, but none of that mattered. Not when his sister lay dying in front of his eyes. “This can’t be happening. I have to do something. Anything.”
“Alex?” Amy whispered, her voice so soft he could barely hear her.
Alex rushed to her side. “Yes, Sis?”
“It’s not your fault. You can’t blame yourself.”
Alex shook his head. “It is my fault. We should’ve gone with Dylan, Tara, and Saul. Instead, I made us stay, and look what happened.”
Amy reached out her hand and gripped his, her touch as gentle as her smile. “You didn’t know. How could you know?”
“You’re my responsibility, Amy.”
“Not anymore. You’ve done all you could, and I love you for it,” Amy said. “I’ll always love you. Remember that.”
Alex leaned forward, alarmed. “No, Amy. You can’t give up. Fight, damn it!”
She sighed. “I can’t. I’m done, Alex. It’s time for me to go. Mom and Dad are waiting for me.”
“I’m begging you, Sis. Fight. Do it for me,” Alex said, crushing her delicate fingers between his. “I can’t live without you.”
Amy blinked and replied with a touch of her old spirit. “Of course you can, you stupid man. But, if it makes you happy, I’ll hang around a little bit longer.”
Alex nodded. “That’s all I ask.”
Her eyes drifted shut, and she said. “I’m gonna sleep now. You should too.”
“Okay,” Alex replied, though he had no intention at all of sleeping until she got better. But, despite his best intentions, exhaustion won out, and he fell into a deep slumber.
***
Outside the house, Gloria Bernstein milled about on unsteady feet. Her clothes hung loose on her body, torn and stained with the blood of her victims. Her hair was a mess, and the expensive gold rings on her left hand had been ripped away along with her fingers.
If Gloria could have looked in a mirror, she would’ve been shocked. All her life, she’d been vain. Only the best clothes would do, and she never set foot outside her house without every hair in its place.
It was the reason she’d disliked her daughter-in-law so much. The woman had no sense of style. No class. She wasn’t good enough for Gloria’s only son. Then again, nobody would ever be good enough for Kevin. He was her baby, her little boy.
It was too bad that he fell ill, and when he turned on her, she couldn’t believe he’d hurt her. It proved to be her downfall, and now she was just one of the crowd — another zombie in a thousand.
Gloria would’ve hated that if she could still use her brain. But she couldn’t. Now she waited with the endless patience of the dead for the survivors inside the house to emerge. They were there. She knew they were because the rest of the horde knew it. She wasn’t strong enough to push her way to the front. Instead, she lingered on the edges of the crowd, hoping for scraps.
Then a flash of light caught her attention, and she turned around in time to see a minivan pass by on the road. It was heading back the same way she’d come. Fort Knox. Galvanized by the thought of fresh meat, she ran after the vehicle, determined to catch it. While she might not comprehend
