“You won’t be able to touch this stuff when I’m done with it,” he warned.
“I know. That’s why I opened the painkillers for you. There’s more peroxide and stuff over there, so we won’t have to worry about that.”
While Kevin bandaged his wound, ripping the gauze and tape with his teeth, Sarah retrieved the station’s cleaning supplies. She found disinfectant cleaner, a mop and bucket, rags, rubber gloves, and a bottle of bleach. She also discovered a pack of disposable respirator masks—the kind people wore when they had the flu or used to avoid hazardous fumes. She took one out of the package and slid it onto her face. The rubber-band strap pulled her wet hair. She winced in pain, and then felt guilty about it. Her discomfort was nothing compared to the agony that Kevin was obviously feeling.
“Where were you, anyway?”
“Outside,” Sarah said. The mask muffled her voice. “I wanted to see if I could get the power working.”
“Find anything?”
“Nothing useful. I can’t figure out the power plant. It’s way too advanced for me. There’s a little utility shed with a lawnmower and stuff inside. That’s about it, though. Nothing else.”
“Is there room inside the utility shed?”
Sarah frowned. “Room for what?”
“Room for me.”
“What are you talking about?”
Kevin sighed. “Like I said, I’m not itching anymore. I think I caught it in time. But just in case, we need to be careful for the next few days. I can’t be around you. If I am still infectious, then you could catch it off anything I touch. And if it’s airborne, then I definitely shouldn’t be around you.”
“If it was airborne, we’d both be dead already. So would everyone else we’ve met.”
Kevin nodded. “You’re probably right, but even so, I’d feel better if we limited your exposure. I think you would, too.”
“So you’re going to… what? Sleep in the shed?”
“Yeah.”
“That’s ridiculous. It’s cold out there. We’ve got no way to heat the shed. You’ll catch pneumonia.”
Kevin waved his bandaged hand. Blood seeped through the gauze. “That’s the least of my worries.”
“What about the worms? They seem to be able to find people.”
“I’ll lock it from the inside.”
Sarah stared, incredulous. “You think that’s going to stop them? You saw what happened at Teddy’s house.”
Kevin paused before replying. When he spoke, his voice was dejected and quiet.
“Well, I’m all out of ideas, Sarah. Can you think of an alternative that doesn’t endanger you?”
“No…”
Kevin smiled sadly. “There you go. Besides, it will be good to get some uninterrupted sleep. You snore, you know?”
Sarah faked a laugh and then turned away so that Kevin wouldn’t see her crying.
Kevin cleaned the blood and skin from the floor, and disinfected the bunk bed and everything else he had touched. He dropped the soiled rags into the bucket, along with his clothes. Then he grabbed Sarah’s old clothes that had been drying on the floor, and the goofy-looking hunter’s cap he’d taken from Teddy’s truck, and dumped them in the bucket, too. Finally, he carried the bucket outside and sat it on the stairs.
“Are there any more uniforms left?”
“Yeah.” Sarah tossed him one. “That’s probably better than running around outside in your boxers.”
She tried to keep her tone lighthearted, but she sounded anything but.
“After I leave,” he said, “you’ll want to disinfect this doorknob again.”
Sarah nodded.
Kevin pulled the mattress off the bed and dragged it towards the door. He whistled as he worked.
“What’s that song?” Sarah asked.
“The Police. It’s been stuck in my head. I bet you’ve heard it before.”
“How does it go?”
“When the world is running down, you make the best of what’s still around.”
Sarah turned away again, but this time, not even the rain drumming against the roof was enough to drown out her sobs.
CHAPTER 10
Henry awoke with a start, unsure of where he was. He almost toppled over into the water, but his instincts saved him at the last minute, and he grabbed the sides of the door. He glanced around, frantic. His .17 gauge had slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the silo’s floor. The noise must have been what woke him up. Henry shook his head. He was lucky it hadn’t discharged when it fell. Rubbing his eyes, he picked the weapon up and examined it for damage. The scope was a little wobbly, but otherwise, it seemed unharmed.
He looked around for Moxey, and found her curled up and sleeping on a stack of wet, empty burlap sacks. He ran his hand over her damp fur. He tried to remember the last time either of them had been dry, and couldn’t. His heart broke all over again as he felt her ribs sticking out beneath her parchment-thin skin. Moxey had been the proverbial fat cat at one time. She’d had no fixed meal time, and Henry had always made sure there was food in her dish, so that she could eat whenever she wanted. Now, there wasn’t much meat on her at all. Just skin and bones and wet fur. Her thighs still had some thickness, like chicken legs, but that was all.
Chicken legs… I could cook her up right here. I’ve got a cigarette lighter.
Henry’s stomach grumbled. His throat burned. He wondered how much meat there actually was on Moxey. If he ate everything—skin, organs, and the rest—that might quiet the pain in his abdomen…
“No!”
Horrified, Henry jerked his hand away from his long-time companion. His cry woke the cat. She looked up at him with adoration, stretched, and then began to purr.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I don’t know what…”
It was happening again. Just like the last time his hunger had been so severe, his thoughts had turned to his cat. He reached out with one timid hand and patted her head. Moxey licked his fingers. Her tongue felt like sandpaper, but he noticed that it was pale, rather than its normal pink hue. Her gums were beginning to recede, revealing black around the bases of her teeth.
“I’ve got to quit falling asleep on watch. Got to find you some food, soon. Find some for both of us. Because if I don’t…”
He wondered if it was too late for her, anyway. Moxey had been drinking less water than normal, and she was lethargic throughout most of the day. Maybe it was crueler to let her starve to death. Maybe the kind thing to do was to put her out of her misery—stop her suffering before it progressed any further. He could do it while she slept. And then, when it was over, he could…
Henry stood up quickly, startling the cat. The plank boards thrummed beneath his boots as he strode back over to the open door. Gripping the rifle in both hands, he stood there with his eyes closed and let the cool breeze blow across his face. He had to stop thinking such terrible thoughts. He could no more eat Moxey than he could eat his parents or friends—had they still been alive. And besides, even if he tried, there was no realistic way to cook her. Sure, he had a cigarette lighter, but all of the combustible material inside the silo was damp, and there was no safe place to build a fire. If there had been, then he and Moxey wouldn’t be so cold and wet all the time.
What they needed to do was escape from here—make it to dry land. He eyed the mountainside again, and once more, his thoughts turned to Mr. Garnett. So close and yet so far. Henry shook his head in frustration. If he did find a way to traverse the water, what then? Where would he and Moxey go? Mr. Garnett might indeed still be alive, but reaching his house was an impossibility. Many of the trees were leaning over or had already toppled, their roots unable to find purchase in the mud. From what he could tell, the road looked washed out in places. Even if he were able to find a vehicle and get it running, they wouldn’t get far. And going on foot was an even less desirable option. Squinting, Henry spotted something out there, crawling sluggishly back and forth on the hillside, big enough that he could see its shape through the haze. He didn’t know what it was, but it certainly wasn’t a bear or a deer. At times, he’d seen more than one. Sometimes he thought they might be the worms from his dream, but that was just silly. Still, whatever they were, he had a sense that they were dangerous. There was no way he and the cat could make it past them, especially on foot.