Free Eaters by Michelle DePaepe Page B

stifling hot, and heavy, and the sleeves were several inches too long.
    He began undoing his belt.
    “What on earth are you doing?”
    “You can’t wear that long skirt. I want you to put on my pants too.”
    “Jeez. And, you’re going to just strip right here? Why are you doing this?”
    He pulled her back into the shadow of a big wreath of flowers that she figured had been from a funeral at the church, probably a few days ago when such things were possible. Then he took off his pants and stood there in his boxers and t-shirt, waiting for her to finish dressing.
    She felt like a rag doll in the oversized clothes. She wondered what was going on as he pulled her into his arms.
    “You’re still healthy, aren’t you?”
    She nodded into his chest, because she didn’t want to tell him that she thought she was infected.
    “I’m not.” He stepped out into a ray of light from a lantern glowing on a nearby ledge, and she could see dark circles under his bloodshot eyes, and an angry rash on his bristled cheeks.
    “Oh God, Mark. No…”
    “Listen to me. You need to get out of this building. It’s not safe to stay.”
    “But where are we going to go?”
    “Not we, Cheryl—you.”
    “She pulled back and hit him lightly on the chest. “I’m not going anywhere without you.”
    “You have to. You can’t stay with me anyway. I’m done. I’m infected.”
    She tossed her head from side to side. “No, you can’t be. You didn’t get bit. I’m the one who got bit. I’ve got the sickness.”
    “What are you talking about? You look perfectly fine.”
    “The mosquitoes…when we were camping…I was bit all over. That’s how it’s transmitted. You didn’t even put on bug spray…they didn’t even touch you.”
    It suddenly dawned on her why. Because he was already infected.
    “No…no…no...no!”
    “I didn’t tell you everything about the dogs and the sickness. None of the men in my unit got infected. That’s because we were guinea pigs for some sort of vaccine. But me, being the stubborn bastard that I am, I refused to take part. I guess it was my “inner rebel” or something that made me spit out the pill when no one was looking. Back then, I didn’t know what the hell they were trying to give us—no one did. I just didn’t want to be any part of a human experiment. I guess I got a little of it in my system, enough to lengthen the incubation period. I thought I’d beat it or I was just immune or something. I was fine…until just a few hours ago.”
    “Mark, I’m sick too. Or, I will be. Even if I didn’t get it from the mosquitoes, I got it from biting that bitch from the sandwich shop.”
    “What?”
    “She attacked me, tried to strangle me, and I bit her. She was definitely sick.”
    “Well you don’t know for sure that you have it, so there’s no point in assuming.”
    “Why do I have to go anyway? I want to stay here with you.”
    He sobbed into her shoulder. “You can’t stay with me. I don’t want to get sicker…and…and hurt you.”
    “Well, I’m not going. What if you pull through, Mark? What if—”
    “No, Cheryl. Go. Go anywhere. You’ve just got to get out.” He pointed towards a window high up on the wall. She could see a glowing orange light waving back and forth. It looked like a baseball bat, wrapped in cloth, and lit as a torch.
    “There’s too many sick in here, and they don’t want them to get out. In a few minutes, they’re going to lock the doors and set the building on fire.”

Chapter Eight
     
     
    He took her hand in an inescapable steel grip, forced her down a hall, and into the kitchen towards a side door. He held her in his arms tightly and kissed the top of her head. After he pulled away, he strapped his rifle onto her shoulder.
    “You remember that day I took you hunting and showed you how to shoot?”
    She remembered. She’d refused to aim at any live creatures and insisted on using cans as targets instead. She’d felt awkward and clumsy with