His eyes scanned the building; he could feel that he was missing something. It was as if the lizard part of his brain was screaming something at him that should have been second nature.
He took a pull from the bottle and walked slowly toward the rear corner of the store. He stood in front of the pharmacy and sucked at his teeth while the synapses of his brain tried to connect dots that hadn’t been connected in a very long time.
He found himself opening the half door that led to the rear of the pharmacy, and he stood staring at the rows of pill bottles on the shelf. “There’s something here. I can almost…”
He sighed and slowly walked through the short aisles of shelves. His eyes scanned the numerous bottles and he took another pull from the bottle, wishing that his damned arm would quit throbbing.
Simon paused at the end of the aisle and stared at a rather large, white, plastic bottle. He set the liquor down and picked up the plastic jug. His eyes could see the letters and they looked familiar. “What the hell does this mean?” he whispered.
The last female appeared by his side and took the jug from his hand. She ran her finger along the letters and looked at him. “Hy-dro-co…done?”
Simon nodded slowly, the connections in his brain making sense of the words. He took the jug from her and pried the lid off. He inhaled deeply and his animal senses relayed memories that he had forgotten.
Simon smiled as he fished out a small handful of the pills and chewed them rapidly. “I know this.” He continued to chew then washed the paste down with the liquor. “These are good.” He nodded to her.
She reached into the bottle and withdrew a single tablet. She slipped it into her mouth and bit down before spitting it to the floor. “Ugh. Not good.”
Simon smiled wider. “Yes. Good.” He took the jug from her and tucked it under his arm. He picked up his liquor bottle and walked back out to the store.
He set both down next to the dog food bag then stretched out. As she settled in next to him, he pulled her closer. “You can read the letters?”
She nodded slightly, her back to him.
“You remember, too?” He could feel her breathing next to him but she refused to respond. He nudged her. “You remember?”
She nodded slightly. “Some.”
“Tell me.” His voice was soft as he reached out to her.
She rolled over and stared at him. “I see things. Small things.” She averted her gaze and breathed deeply. “From before.”
Simon nodded as the mix of pain killers and alcohol began to numb him. “Tell me about your life. In the before.”
She snuggled up under his good arm and wrapped a leg over him. “It was...bad.” Her voice was barely a whisper. “Bad things.”
“Before?”
She nodded. “I killed him.”
Simon relished the familiar warmth as it pulled him towards unconsciousness. “A lot of Quee killed. It’s who we are now.”
She shook her head. “I killed him in the before.” She glanced to him to see if he disapproved. His eyes were closed and he was breathing rhythmically. “He was bad.”
Simon didn’t respond and she settled her head against him, listening to his heart beat. She closed her eyes and tried to push the violent images out of her head.
9
Hatcher slapped at the center console and pointed to the right. “Over there.”
“Is that them?”
“It better be.” Hatcher sat up taller in the seat and watched as the two men slowed their trot to a walk, the larger one resting his arms atop his head. “Looks like Hank got all the aerobics he’ll want for a while.”
Buck slowed the truck and Hatcher leaned out the window. “You ladies need a ride?”
“They shot arrows at us, Hatch,” Hank huffed as he pulled the rear doors open. “We’re pretty sure it’s some of the same group that attacked us.”
Hatcher nodded and glanced at Buck. “If you were at the Albertsons, then yeah. We tracked them to the store this morning.”
Hank stared at him open mouthed. “And you didn’t think to warn the rest of us because…why exactly?”
Hatcher sighed and shook his head. “We were planning to hit them tomorrow morning.”
“If they didn’t try something stupid again tonight,” Buck added.
“Great.” Hank pouted. “We nearly got our asses shot off because you two didn’t think to let us know to avoid them.”
Charlie leaned forward, speaking over the drone of the engine. “Why don’t we go back and just get it over with? Kill ‘em all and let God sort ‘em out.”
Hatcher raised a brow at Buck. “Because, as the young man trying to drive noted, the only Zulu that we know deserves a death sentence is Simon.”
“Simon is in that bunch?” Hank’s voice went up an octave. “And you just came back to the hacienda and pretended you didn’t know nothing? And since when do we give a shit about Zulus?”
Buck stared at the man through the rearview mirror. “If this cure pans out, then those people will be back to their right minds in no time. As of right now, their only crime is being infected with a rage virus.”
“Screw that nonsense,” Hank stated firmly. “They’ve killed people. Probably some of ours, to boot.” He shook his head at the young man. “The only good Zulu is a dead Zulu.”
“Regardless, Simon is our target,” Hatcher stated firmly. “If the others come around and get cured, the better for rebuilding humanity.”
Hank sank low in his seat and crossed his arms over his chest. “Humanity can suck it,” he muttered. He glared at the back of Hatcher’s head. “You really mean to tell me that we’re going to pin the future of mankind on a bunch of Zulus getting ‘cured’ and taking their place in society?”
Hatcher nodded. “We don’t know what skills those people can bring to the table.”
Charlie
