Doc stopped to momentarily close his eyes and take a deep breath. "This morning, I watched them walk away after their exams. They each walk with that curious gait the zombie's exhibit. You know, sort of a half-step now and then. I sincerely believe they are infected, but this is the first time I've seen the transformation take so long. With the original zombies, the full cycle of an infection, other than direct contamination through a bite or scratch, was under three weeks. The Masters came here in late April, and we're now nearing the end August. More than four months have elapsed. I believe Joe and Ronnie are approaching the final stages of the infection and could soon pose a danger to everyone they encounter."
I placed my hand on Doc's shoulder. "Have you told them of your concerns?"
He shook his head. "I've waited until the evidence was irrefutable. We need to discuss it with them and Ronnie's parents to try and learn how they became infected. I feel absolutely terrible about this and dread going to the next steps."
"Me, too," I said, "but it's got to be done before anyone else is attacked and infected. I'll get the leadership committee together, and you can tell them your findings."
We met an hour after supper. We sat around the meeting table: me, Shane, John, Ed, Morgan, Andrea, and Doc. Doc's revelation left all of them aghast. No one wanted to divulge the bad news to Tim and Georgia Masters that their son and a good friend were on a direct course to becoming nasty, deadly zombies.
Andrea asked Doc, "What do you suggest we do?"
"Both patients need to be confined to the isolation cells immediately and held there until the transformation is complete or far enough advanced that it is irrefutable. Of course, if the symptoms disappear, they'll be released."
"And how," Morgan said, "do you intend to break the news to Joe, and to Ronnie and his parents?"
Doc looked at me for support. "First, do all of you accept Doc's findings?" Within ten or so seconds there were yeses or nods from everyone at the table. "Then I think we should get Joe, and Ronnie, and Tim, and Georgia in here now, so all of us can give them the bad news."
Doc had a request. "We also need to learn how they may have become infected. If we can pinpoint the method of contamination, our whole group needs to be made aware of it."
When everyone was gathered, Doc and I explained the issue, and our resulting dilemma, to Joe and the Masters. Doc reiterated the test results and his observations since their arrival.
Ronnie and Joe were visibly shattered and defensive. Their reaction was normal and one we all expected. Who on earth could calmly accept they were slowly evolving into a monster that had to be executed? They each muttered variants of, "No that can't be true, I'm fine, there's got to be a mistake." Both were clearly confused and depressed.
Tim was more defiant and abusive. At the same time Ronnie and Joe spoke, he yelled, "Who the hell do you people think you are, accusing my son and Joe of being infected and telling us you're going to murder them? I'm telling you right now you'll do no such thing based on the word of a horse doctor. It's not going to happen. If they get shot, so will all of you."
Everyone was talking until I banged on the table. "Everyone calm down. No one is going to be taken out and shot. But Ronnie and Joe will be put in holding cells and monitored to see if Doc's prognosis is correct. I'm sorry this has occurred, but the safety of the other sixty-three people here has to be the priority concern."
Tim spoke loudly, "Just because some blasted tests are higher and their eyes are redder doesn't meant they're turning into the undead monsters you're accusing them of being—"
Finally I overrode his rant. "Tim, stop it now. Joe and Ronnie, we don't understand how this infection or whatever it's called works. We all know that when humans are directly bitten or even scratched to draw blood the transformation to the undead occurs almost instantly. The symptoms you've exhibited are very slow to materialize. Have the two of you had any intimate contact with zombies in the last year?"
They looked at each other and both shook their heads. Joe said, "No, of course not. If we had, we would have turned then."
Doc laid his hand on Joe's arm. "Not that type of contact, Joe. Did you and Ronnie together handle zombie carcasses without gloves or other protective clothing? You could have done it individually or when acting together."
They looked at each other for a long minute. "Me and Ronnie carried a zombie out to a brush pile and threw it up on top. That was the morning Tom and his missus visited." Ronnie nodded slightly. "Then a few days later, two more zombies were shot near the house, and we took them out to the same brush pile and burned all three. That's the only time I've touched them. A day or so later, we came here, and I haven't been near any since then." Ronnie nodded.
Doc was interested. "Did you wear gloves and change your clothes after handling the zombies?" Joe and Ronnie nodded. "When you burned the brush pile did you leave right away or did you hang around to watch it burn."
