The bikes revved their engines as they came to life. Each rider slowly pulled away from the others and headed into town.
Stain stayed back and stared at his riding partner. “I worry for you.” Before the man could question his statement, Stain started the bike and pulled away.
He drove into town slowly, his dim-witted partner cruising behind him. Stain watched as the other two bikes broke off the main road and began surveying a residential area. He continued into town, eyes constantly scanning for Squirrel or his ride. The old Indian was quite distinctive. There would be no confusing it with another.
He cruised into a pharmacy parking lot. Broken glass and trash littered the area. One glance through the shattered windows told him the place had been looted. Most likely numerous times.
He stepped off the Harley and stretched his neck. From where he stood, he could see down two main roads. He nodded to his partner to kill the bike.
Once he had calmed his mind and his senses refocused, he listened. He could almost hear the ebb and flow of the other two motorcycles in the empty town. He half-expected to hear screams, gunshots, voices yelling. But there was nothing. The silence was almost deafening.
He walked to the center of the interchange and stared in all four directions. Nothing as far as the eye could see. He sighed and walked back to his bike. He had hoped for something. Some sign of life.
He mounted the bike and stared at the abundance of southwestern styled homes. How could there have been so much life here and weeks later it was like this?
He thought back to when Squirrel had spotted smoke in this direction. He hated to admit it, but he never saw the shadow that Squirrel claimed to see. He scratched at his chin and wondered, Did he have another reason for coming here? He glanced to his partner. “Squirrel ever say anything about knowing anyone from here?”
He shook his head. “Squirrel didn’t talk to me.” He spat tobacco spit and worked the chaw in his jaw. “I don’t think Squirrel talked to many folks. Wasn’t the talking type.”
Stain tried to remember ever having a heart-to-heart with the big man. He couldn’t recall ever having spoken to him that wasn’t in the line of work. He sighed heavily and started the Harley. “We’ll work a grid. Keep your eyes peeled for his bike.”
The two pulled out slowly and Stain wondered if Albuquerque was just as desolate.
Vivian yawned and fought to keep her eyes open. She glanced at her watch then grabbed Charles’ chart. She ran her finger down along the vitals taken. No change.
She stood and walked to the door leading into the isolation ward. Peering through the glass, she saw Charles try to roll over, struggle a moment with his bindings, then calm down. She pressed the door open slightly and heard a gentle snore. Satisfied that he was resting, she backed out and went to her office.
She practically fell into the couch and pulled her lab coat tighter around her. The moment she leaned her head back, she was out.
In her dreams, she was walking in a forest. She knew she wasn’t alone, but she wasn’t afraid. She stepped behind a large oak and waited. Footsteps were heard, and she saw infected people pass her location. She knew they were looking for her. She knew why, too. She had the cure. For a moment she was confused why she wouldn’t share it with them.
She slipped back to the other side of the tree and began walking back the way she had come in.
“You abandoned me.”
Her head snapped up and she stared into the eyes of Captain Andrews. For the briefest moment she lit up, happy to see him. Then she noticed the rot that had infested his features. His eyes turned from crystal blue to milky, and his teeth were now all crooked and stained with dried blood.
“You left me to die with the monsters.” He croaked at her. His hands slowly reached out and she stepped back, her breath catching in her throat.
“Don’t touch me,” she whispered. “You’re infected.”
“Of course, I’m infected. You left me to die with them!” He stepped forward and she watched as his lower jaw broke loose on one side and hung precariously from his face. He looked like a walking corpse and she felt her stomach heave.
She threw up on her shoes and when she looked up, he was gone. She spun a slow circle, her eyes straining to see him amongst the tall trees. She cupped her hands to her mouth and yelled, “Joe!”
Her eyes snapped open and Vivian fought to breathe. She shot up on the couch and looked around.
“Are you alright, Dr. LaRue?” a soft voice asked.
She looked up to see one of her techs standing over her. “Yeah. Just…a dream.”
“You were shouting.” The young woman bent low and gave her a solemn look. “You really should get some rest. Real rest, not a cat nap on the couch. We can handle things here and I’ll call you if there’s any change in—”
Vivian stood and held her hands up, stopping her midsentence. “Thank you. I think I will.”
She turned and practically staggered out of her office.
When she made it to her stateroom, she sat on the bed and rubbed at her eyes. Why had she dreamed of Andrews? After all that had happened, she had practically pushed him from her mind.
She stretched out on the bed, but her mind wouldn’t let her rest. She had always been a believer that dreams were your mind’s way of letting you know something you had missed.
“Why him? Why would I dream of Joseph after all of this?” She yawned and rolled to her side. “What could it possibly mean?”
Vivian allowed her mind free reign to wander. If it wouldn’t let her sleep again and re-enter the same dream, she couldn’t very well ask him why he was
