I can’t. Do you understand me? I will die before I hire Shaun’s replacement. I am too scrambled, and too close to this story. Please, Mahir. Take over.”
“I…I don’t know what to say.”
“Say yes. Say you’ll do it. I can have a contract to you in seconds. We can always put things back to normal when this is over.” But it was never going to be over. I was lying—I was lying—when I implied that “over” was even a possibility anymore.
Normal had left the building, and it wasn’t coming back.
Mahir looked at me gravely. He knew me well enough to hear the quaver in my voice, and to know what I was really asking. I was asking him to take care of the site forever, because however this turned out, I wasn’t going to be coming back.
Finally, he said, “All right, Georgia. But only because it’s you.”
“I appreciate that. I’ll send you a contract and the master passwords as soon as we end this call.
I’ll turn your login back on at the same time. It should take about ten minutes for everything to start working again. Once it does, I need you to be on every inch of the site. Grab every warm body you can find. Control it, maintain it, and ride this story as far as it will take you.”
“What’s the goal here, Georgia?”
I glanced over my shoulder to Rick. He nodded, understanding me. I looked back to Mahir.
“Shaun is dead.” The words hurt more than I could have imagined. “This story isn’t. We’re not letting them kill it the way they killed him.”
For a moment, it looked as if he might protest, but only for a moment. It passed as quickly as it had come, and he nodded. “I’ll get on that. Are you about to do something foolish?”
“I think so,” I said. “Goodnight, Mahir.”
“Goodbye, Georgia Mason,” he said, and the screen went black.
“I’ve got Steve on line two,” said Rick.
“Put him on speaker,” I said. I got up from my chair, moving like I was in a dream as I walked toward the weapons locker. I needed to get armed. Something bigger than a .45 was practically required.
“Georgia?” Steve sounded tentative, even broadcast through the van speakers. “Are you all right?”
“That’s a question for my therapist—if I had a therapist—but I think the answer is ‘no,’” I said, opening the locker door and pulling out two Kevlar vests. I tossed one to Rick before slipping my own on. “What’s the situation outside?”
“Ah…all infected have been cleared from the area outside your van.”
Meaning that Shaun was no longer outside, either protecting me or waiting to eat me. I expected that realization to hurt. It didn’t. It just left a numb patch at the center of my chest, one that spread as I slipped on my Kevlar. “Is it safe for us to come out? I have Rick in here with me. Neither of us was exposed.”
There was a pause before Steve said, “This area is still not secure.”
“If you can clear a path to my motorcycle, we can get around anything that might be in our way.”
When he didn’t answer immediately, I sighed, and said, “Please. They killed my brother. They killed Shaun. Please help us get out of here.”
The pause was longer this time—almost long enough to make me think that Steve was going to walk away and leave us locked in the van, with no clear route to the exit. It wouldn’t matter if he did.
We’d find a way out of here regardless. It would just go faster if he helped us.
Finally, voice low, Steve said, “I haven’t read your latest entry all the way. I read enough. Stand back from the door, and keep your hands where I can see them until you’ve tested out clean.”
“On it,” I said. I stepped back, motioning for Rick to do the same.
Air rushed in when the van door opened, accompanied by the heavy smells of blood and gunpowder. I stayed where in was, waiting.
“Georgia. Rick.” Steve stepped forward, placing two blood testing kits on the ground just in front of the open door. They were good-quality units, not top of the line, but good enough that their accuracy ratings had never been contested.
I picked up the first unit and passed it to Rick before picking up my own. I looked toward Steve as I broke the seal. “If this comes up positive…he doesn’t get to get away with this, Steve.
He doesn’t get to do this.”
“I promise,” said Steve.
That would have to be enough. I slid my hand into the unit and pressed it flat against the needles, not wincing as they broke my skin. The lights began their inevitable cycle of red-yellow-green, flashing through all the available permutations before settling on a steady green. Next to me, Rick did the same, with the same results. We were both clean.
I held up my testing unit. “Clear.”
“Clear,” echoed Rick.
“Thank you.” Steve tossed us each a biohazard bag. “What happened?”
What happened? Shaun died. How could anything else matter? I took a deep breath, forcing myself to set that thought aside, and said, as calmly as I could, “Someone killed Lois—Rick’s cat—which caused him to come back for us before we could enter our trailer. As a consequence, none of us were inside when the explosives went off. We ran for cover, Shaun was infected.”
“Infected how?” asked Steve.
“A hypodermic needle, like the one we found at the Ryman farm.” I shook my head. “We were set up. None of us are supposed to be standing.”
“But we are,” said Rick.
“Yes. We are,” I said, finally dropping my testing unit into a biohazard bag.
Steve watched this before asking, “You got a plan from here?”
“Yes,” I said flatly. “I’m going back to the rally. I’m going to have a chat with Governor Tate.
And when that’s over, I’m going to blow the f**king roof off this entire conspiracy.”
“You can’t take your bike. You’d never make it out before the quarantine came down.”
I shrugged, somehow managing to smile a little. It almost hurt. “Well, then. Can we get a ride?”
Steve nodded gravely. “I thought you’d never ask.”
The best thing about my life is George. I don’t think she really understands that, but that’s okay, because I don’t need her to understand it; it doesn’t matter for anyone but me. As long as I know the truth, everything can keep on going the way it’s going, and that’ll be just fine.
I hate our parents. I want out of their house. I want to live my own life, with the friends that I choose, and with her. Always with her. But as long as this is what she wants, I’m here.
I’m here all the way to the end.
—From Postcards From the Wall, the unpublished files of Shaun Mason, June 19th, 2040.
Four: Georgia
The outbreak was still going strong as we fought our way toward the motor pool. The infected weren’t actually everywhere. It just seemed that way. The three of us moved in a back-to-back wedge formation, Steve taking point, while Rick and I took the sides. We had sufficient ammo to keep pressing forward, even with zombies charging us from all sides.
I knew some of them; I knew too many of them. And the only comfort I could find was that Shaun was not among them.
“Georgia? How are you for bullets?”
“Good for now,” I said, and fired again.
“Rick?”
“I’m good. Steve?”
“I’ll live,” he said darkly.
That didn’t sound good. “Is there anyone who can come and provide backup?”
Steve’s lips tightened as he shook his head.
“Our last call from Andres came while I was on my way to get you. He was backed against a wall with half a dozen of the aides. I don’t think we’ll be seeing him again. Carlos and Heidi are at the motor pool; that zone’s relatively clear. Mike…I haven’t heard from Mike. Not Susan or Paolo, either. Everyone else is either on their way to meet with us or holding fast in a safe zone.”
Andres was Steve’s latest partner, replacing Tyrone, who had died in Eakly. I winced. “I’m so sorry.”
Steve shook his head. “I never was very good at partners.” He turned and fired into the shadows at the side of a portable office. The zombie that had been lurking there gurgled and fell.
We kept walking, our formation allowing us to stop the infected before they could get too close.
Thankfully, Carlos and Heidi knew we were coming, and they had access to all the ammunition that had been stockpiled at the motor pool. Thanks to their efforts, the infected tapered off as we got closer.
We crossed the rest of the distance between us and the fence without incident. The gate was closed, the electric locks engaged. Steve reached for the keypad, and a shot rang out over our heads, clearly aimed to warn, not wound. Small favors.
“Stop where you are!” shouted Carlos. He and Heidi stepped out from behind the shed, both of them carrying too many weapons. Shaun would have yelled at them for that.
“Stand down,” barked Steve. “It’s me and the journalists. They tested clean when I picked them up.”
“Beg your pardon, sir, but how do we know you test clean now?” Heidi asked.
“If you’ll let us through the fence, you can keep us backed against it while you run blood tests,” I offered, hoping that the fact that I was still capable of coherent speech would be a point in my favor. “If any of us comes up infected, you’ll be able to shoot us before we amplify.”
She and Carlos exchanged a look. Carlos nodded. “All right,” he said. “Step back from the gate.”
We did as we were told, Steve giving me a thoughtful look as the gate slid open. “You’re good at this.”
“I’ve had a lot of practice,” I said. Rick and I followed him into the motor pool.
Carlos chucked us blood testing units while Heidi reported on the status of the other units, still remaining at a safe distance. Susan was confirmed as infected; she’d been tagged by a political analyst as she was helping Mike evacuate a group of survivors to a rooftop. She stayed on the ground after she was bitten, shooting everything in sight before taking out the ladder and shooting herself. About the best ending you could hope for if you got infected in a combat zone. Mike was fine. So, surprisingly, was Paolo. There was still no word from Andres, and three more groups of security agents and survivors were expected to reach the motor pool at any time.