I could tell by the look on his face he didn’t hold out much hope when it came to what I was asking. Honestly, I hadn’t either, but anything had been worth a shot at the time.
“It looks as if the power is still on,” he commented, sounded intrigued by the information as we passed a farmhouse. An open garage, vacant of any vehicles, still had an overhead light on as if the owners forgot about it in their rush to leave.
“Do you think that place may be abandoned? If it is, maybe we could hole up in there?”
I saw the look of concern on his face. I totally understood it too. Even if the people were gone from the house, if any of them had been infected, the house would be basically contaminated. Still, we hadn’t started sporting the pus riddled sores yet. Jake was constantly checking me for a fever, and neither of us had taken the notion to eat ourselves, so what could it hurt?
“A bit of rest may not be a bad thing. We have the supplies you and Marissa packed. We can slip on two of the hazmat suits.”
I looked at him and shook my head. “You can, Jake. You’re a doctor; you need to be extra careful. Most likely I’m already infected. I don’t see any real point in my suiting up.”
“Don’t say that! You haven’t shown any symptoms. You’re still in the clear for now. Before you go in, you’re putting on that suit.”
I didn’t want to argue with him. I knew in the end he would win. I had said it myself, he’s the doctor. One thing I don’t think he was realizing, though, was the possibility the ones who took whatever vehicles were in that garage and escaped could have left behind family members who were infected. I’d been in that situation. I knew how much it sucked. I also knew the real possibility that there could be a person in there, just waiting to take a bite out of one of us.
Jake pulled the old Buick into the garage. I don’t know what instinct I was running on, but my immediate response was to close the garage door. I saw the curiosity in his face and shrugged. “If infected are out there, and they see the car, they may come here for help,” I told him, then added under my breath, “or a meal.”
“Excellent point.”
“Jake,” I called out making him stop just short of opening the garage door that led into the cute, two-story farmhouse.
“Yeah?”
I pointed to a row of tools on the wall. Whoever the man was who’d lived in the house before all this insanity broke out was a stickler when it came to caring for his tools. Each one was hung neatly on the wall. They were polished, well cared for, and most importantly, for certain ones, they looked sharp.
“You want a weapon?” he questioned me.
Jake was a doctor. His job was, and always had been, taking care of others. He was good at it when I was a kid; he’s even better now. The idea of needing to protect himself, from what in reality was a person looking for relief from this insanity, didn’t sit well with him.
“I think it’s a smart idea. You saw how they were at the hospital. Once they get to a certain point, Jake, there’s nothing we can do except keep them from getting us.”
He looked to the wall of tools, then moved toward it slowly. Being at the home of a farmer, there were several items to choose from. In my mind, I wanted something easy to carry yet deadly enough to get me out of any situation. I grabbed a sickle off the wall, knowing the blade would come in beneficial if attacked. Jake, following my lead, grabbed an oversized ball-peen hammer, testing the weight of it before moving on from the wall toward the door.
“I’ll go first,” he spoke firmly. “We’ll go room to room and check the place over first.”
“Got it.”
“Cammy.”
I waited for him to finish what he was going to say, but he hesitated.
“If something happens to me like what happened with Marissa, you get the hell out of here, got me? If there’s someone in there and they’re infected and…” He paused as if contemplating how to finish the sentence. “Just, don’t wait around on me. If something happens, get yourself safe, understood?”
I nodded my head in answer. There wasn’t any use in arguing or telling him not to worry. I would. Without Jake, I wouldn’t have any idea where to go or what to do. My plan was to keep both of us alive for as long as possible.
Through the door leading from the garage into the kitchen was a small hallway. It held a shoe rack for work boots and a coat rack for when the weather got colder. It was a simple entrance before the room opened into a massive kitchen and dining room area. The table itself looked big enough to host a family of at least twelve. I hoped like hell there weren’t that many people living here.
I watched as Jake began opening cupboard doors. I didn’t understand why he thought that was a good idea, but I knew he’d seen more at the hospital that I had. I’m sure he had a reason. Instead of asking, I simply joined in, helping him make sure each nook and cranny of the kitchen was free of anything dangerous. When it was clear, we moved on to the living room, then the downstairs bathroom. The last room on the bottom level was a large sized office and it too had been clear of any issues, which left only the upstairs.
I stopped at the bottom of the beige carpeted stairs and stared upward. The entire farmhouse was so quaint, decorated like my mom would’ve liked before she passed away. It was cozy, not a lot of modern technology running rampant, but it just had to have a fucking upstairs.
Jake came and stood beside me then sighed heavily. He didn’t speak, just in case someone was up there. Instead, he gave me a look and pointed upward. I knew what it meant. It was time. I gripped my sickle, watching him twirl his hammer, and started the ascent.
On each side of the stairs were closed doors. Down the hall from us were two more. My best guess would be a three-bedroom top level with a large bathroom in the center. I couldn’t deny how the doors being closed sent chills down my spine. Did whoever left the house do it to keep their loved ones inside while they made their escape? I supposed it didn’t matter either way. Each room would need to be checked if Jake and I were going to have a chance at grabbing a little rest.
Together, the two of us started with the room on the right. The minute he opened the door my stomach dropped. I felt like I was going to be sick. Blood, pus, even bits of flesh littered the pretty pink carpeting. It even smeared the walls. I didn’t know what had happened in the room, but I could easily imagine. The next room wasn’t any better. Matter and bits of flesh now decorated the room, even hanging from the collection of superhero figurines on the bookshelf. In this room though, the bed was unmade and a dried pool of blood stained the Avenger’s sheet set.
I stood outside the door while Jake checked the master bath. I could see the blood and gore smeared on the mirror, all over the toilet, and even in the shower. The drain itself was clogged with mats of hair and chunks of pus covered skin. I wanted to puke but didn’t have the guts to step to the toilet and do it.
“One last room,” Jake told me. By that time all I could do was nod in answer.
The room at the end of the hallway gave us its own warning before we entered. The doorknob had chunks of flesh dried to it. It was a for sure indication something had happened in the room, but that it could have been days ago. With a shaking hand, Jake reached out, turning the knob and throwing the door open.
The smell that wafted toward us as the door swung open doubled us over. I could hear Jake retching and I could no longer hold down the vomit that spewed from my mouth. It had been the smell of death, the smell of rotting flesh, and the smell of whatever it was those boils on the infected produced. On the bed lay three bodies. You could see from the doorway arms, legs, even faces had rotted away from the attack of the virus. One was a little girl, still in a pink nightgown. The other, a boy, slightly bigger in jeans and what was left of a t-shirt. In the middle was a man wearing a pair of coveralls. We couldn’t make out his age due to the fact most of the flesh on his face was either gone or laying on the pillow beneath him. What we could ascertain though were the bullet holes.