Free The Infected (Book 1): Jim's First Day by Joseph Zuko Page B

getting infected. The wound on her hand
is disgusting. Two white bones twitching in a raw meat sandwich.
    “Find
some medical supplies and rubbing alcohol!” I yell over my shoulder at Devon.
He tears off into the closest bathroom.
    “I
know it hurts! We’ve gotta clean it!” Devon comes back with a cheap medical kit
and a bottle of alcohol. I turn off the water, reach out for the bottle, snap
the lid open and hold it over her hand. “Sorry,” I pour out a little of the
rubbing alcohol onto her hand. You would have thought I bit another finger off.
I cut my hand on a dirty chicken coop I owned three years ago and I put alcohol
on that wound. It hurt more than the actual cut. “Get out a wrap and bandage,”
Devon pops open the medical kit and pulls out the roll of gauze and bandages. “Put
some Neosporin on it.”
    “What?”
    “I
don’t know. It’s worth a shot,” Devon goes back to her bathroom to rummage
through her cabinets.
    “I’m
going to put a little more on to make sure it’s clean.”
    “Please
don’t,” she can barely talk.
    “I
have to,” I pour out a little more. I make sure I cover every part of the
wound. “Fight through the pain,” I tell her. Devon comes back into the kitchen
with the Neosporin. He squirts a large amount onto the bandage. “I’ve got to
put pressure on your wound so we can stop the bleeding.”
    “Do
it.” is all she can say. I hold her up by her arm because she wants to fall to the
floor. Devon slides a kitchen chair over from the dining table. I get it under
her butt. I take the bandage from Devon and I carefully press it over the wound
on her hand. She passes out.
    “Hand
me the gauze,” he hands me the roll and I carefully wrap it around her hand and
wrist. I use the whole roll on her to make sure I have enough pressure on it to
stop the bleeding.
    “Tape,”
Devon tears off a few bits of tape for me to put on the gauze to hold it into
place.
    “I
think we need more,” I reach out my hand and take the tape from him. I wrap it
around her wrist like a boxer. “Done,” she wakes up. Her face looks like she
gave birth to a baby fire truck. “What’s your name?” 
    “Colleen.”
    “I’m
Jim and this is Devon. It’s not going to be safe here. Do you have any family
close?”
    “No.
Just Brad,” it takes a lot of effort to talk. I pick up the medical box and dig
around in it until I find some Tylenol. I pop out the pills.
    “No.
Vicodin,” she says pointing to the bathroom. I motion to Devon to go. He makes
for the door.
    Seconds
later Devon comes back into the kitchen with a little bottle of prescription
pills. He hands her one and she downs it with a hard swallow.
    “Colleen,
we need to get moving. I’m heading North into Vancouver. You can come with us
but we need to go now. Do you have another car?”
    “No.
We don’t have a car,” her eyes aren’t focused and the words come slowly. “We
have the Bronco,” she slurs. “It’s my husband’s baby. It’s down in the garage.”
    I
pull Brad’s keys from my pocket and one of the keys has a custom FB stamped in
to it.
    “Grab
a jacket and let’s move.”
    “Wait,”
she looks at her bandaged hand. “My ring,” I look at Devon and then back into
the living room at Brad’s dead body.
    “Really?”
    “Please
help me?” she whimpers. I drop my head. This is going to be gross, but I can’t
leave her and steal her dead husbands Bronco. I pull out one of the knives I
have strapped to my hip. I walk over to Brad’s dead body and kneel down next to
his head. Devon steps into the living room with me. Colleen follows him. I look
at Brad’s destroyed face. I got him right between the eyes but the blade is so
big that it cut into his left eye. I have a thing about eyes. Touching them
grosses me out. My Dad wore contacts and I would almost throw up as a kid every
time he would put them in. My stomach turns a little so I look away from his
eyes and focus on the jaw. I take the back of the