Sick Read online

  “Brian, honey?”

  “I’m here,” I croak.

  Mom clears her throat. “Listen to me,” she says, trying to keep her voice steady. “I do want you to find your sister and get her home safe, or keep her there with you in the theater department if it’s secure. But, Brian, you must not risk contact with the infected. It’s beginning to look like the initial infection took a day or more to cause symptoms, but that time has been shortened as the bacteria mutates. Do you understand?”

  I slowly get to my feet. Chad and Jaime follow, eyeing me.

  “Are you … you want me to just leave her out there?”

  “I want you to stay safe and protect yourself,” Mom says. “You must not let these infected children bite you or touch you with any bodily fluid, or even breathe near you.”

  “So it’s like the flu?” Chad says, looking worried.

  “We’re not sure,” Mom says. I can imagine her rubbing her forehead the way she did when she tried to explain how Kenzie’s illness worked. “Blood and saliva, almost certainly. It’s more challenging to pin down whether any incidental contact can spread the disease.”

  Chad folds his arms over his chest and grimaces.

  “Either way, there’s no way of knowing if we can find an antidote or treatment or vaccine, or when,” Mom says. “We have to hope for the best and prepare for the worst, and I need to know that you are as safe as you can make yourself. All right?”

  I don’t say anything.

  “Brian?”

  “What are the chances of finding a cure?” I ask her, struggling against the nightmare images of Laura or my sister becoming one of those things.

  “I can’t put a number to it, sweetie,” Mom says. “But there’s always hope.”

  “Um, excuse me, Mrs. Murphy,” Jaime says toward my phone. “I’m just curious—what is happening here in Phoenix? Do you know? We don’t have access to the news, and 911 calls aren’t going through.”

  “Who is this?”

  “My name is Jaime Escadero, ma’am. I’m the, uh … stage manager.”

  “Jaime, it’s a miracle I got through as it is,” Mom says. “Cell towers have gone down all over the place. You probably know more than I do. But based on the reports we’ve been getting, this bacteria has spread, and spread fast. You should stay inside and wait for help. I’m sure the feds will be mobilizing soon, if they haven’t already.”

  “So it’s a state of emergency?” Jaime asks. “Declared and everything?”

  Mom pauses.

  “Not quite yet,” she says.

  We all groan.

  “The hell’s the holdup?” Chad demands from no one in particular.

  “I’ll tell my people you are all there,” Mom says. “Just sit tight, please. Try not to panic, and for god’s sake, don’t cross paths with anyone who is sick. We’ll get you out just as soon as we can. Brian?”

  “Uh-huh,” I say.

  “I need to go. Did I make everything clear?”

  “Sure, Mom.”

  “All right. I’ll call you back just as soon as I can.”

  “Okay,” I whisper.

  “Good-bye, sweetie.”

  “Bye.”

  I click the end button, and we all stare at each other. Damon, Kat, and Travis have stopped looking over the roof edge and stand nearby. Kat sidles up next to Jaime like she’s about to hold his hand.

  “That bad, huh?” Travis says.

  “Pretty,” Jaime says, and turns to look at the parking lot.

  “Anyone need to call someone again?” I ask. I suddenly don’t even want to be holding my phone anymore, like it’s infected.

  Jaime reaches for it. “Yeah,” he says. “Thanks.”

  But his call won’t go through.

  “Travis?” Jaime says, his voice hoarse.

  Travis stares at the phone. I see his jaw clenching and unclenching in the fading sunlight. The rays collide with smoke from downtown, creating a dismal sunset.

  “Naw,” Travis says suddenly. “To hell with him. He can’t wait for me to get out of the house anyway. Maybe he’ll get his wish.”

  Kat steps to Travis and hugs him, which in a way is kind of amusing because her head hardly reaches his chest. Travis hugs her back, still glaring at my phone in Jaime’s hand.

  Damon quietly takes the phone from Jaime instead. Whoever he calls, though, doesn’t answer. He hands the phone back to me, trying to look brave. “Maybe I’ll try later, if that’s okay,” he says, and snaps his fingers like he just remembered something. “Still need to order that pizza.”

  I never really got Damon’s humor. But right now, I’m kind of grateful for it. “Sure, man. Sure thing. Kat?”

  She breaks away from Travis, who’s folded his arms and winces out at the sunset. “I can’t remember the number,” Kat says. “So stupid …”

  “Chad?”

  “Mom’s either fine or she’s not,” he says. “I’ll find out eventually.”

  I swallow something bitter and put my phone back into my pocket.

  “Might be your last chance,” Jaime says, looking out at one of the smoke plumes.

  Chad scowls. “I ain’t givin’ up, if that’s what—”

  “No, I mean, maybe no one should make any more calls anytime soon,” Jaime says. He looks at me. “Unless you happen to have a phone charger on you.”

  “Ah, shit.” He’s right. The battery won’t last forever. “All right, we save it for emergencies.”

  Which is a dumb thing to say. What exactly would constitute an emergency at this point, and who the hell could we call, anyway?

  “Let’s go,” I say, and head for the trapdoor.

  We climb back down the ladder and the stairs and into the auditorium. In the drama hallway, John comes up to us.

  “What’s going on?” he asks us. “Where were you guys?”

  Jaime sighs. I look around the hall. The others are sitting along the walls in small groups, fidgeting nervously and watching us. It dawns on me that of everyone left in the building, this little group of ours is the only one doing anything.

  I get the feeling we’re in charge now.

  I don’t like it.

  “Let’s get everyone together,” Jaime says. “We need to let them know what’s going on.”

  Kat nods and goes up the hall, gathering the other students. They make their way over to us. Jaime hunkers down, so we all sit around him. All of us except Chad, who kicks back with one boot against the wall. Kat sits beside Jaime. That kind of makes sense; she’s probably next in line to inherit Jaime’s jobs when he graduates.

  If any of us make it out of here.

  “All right,” Jaime says, exhaling. “What we know is this. Calls to 911 aren’t working. We tried, but it wasn’t happening. And now the office phone’s dead. Right?”

  Tara nods. “I keep trying, but so far …”

  Jaime waves her off. “Some fires have broken out around town. We saw three for sure.”

  One chick starts crying, the blond freshman who gripped her head and screamed during the attack. Serena wraps an arm around her, whispering. For one weird second, I want her to do the same to me. Serena looks so normal, so safe.

  “The other thing is …” Jaime stops and looks at me, Chad, Travis, and Damon. We all shrug.

  “Brian?” Jaime says. “You want to take this?”

  “Uh … sure. Well, it’s some kind of sickness,” I say. “A bacteria or something. The people out there, the ones who ki—who hurt Mrs. Golab and Keith and Clarisse, they’re sick.”

  No need to say killed. They know. I explain the possible illnesses the sick kids have as Mom described them. Several people make disgusted faces.

  “So we’re gonna get sick?” John asks.

  “Naw,” Chad says. Everyone looks up at him. “We’d know by now.”

  “Chad’s probably right,” I say. “It looks like, um … it looks like …”

  The hallway is silent. They wait for me to finish.

&n
bsp; “Like they have to bite you,” I say.

  Jaws fall slowly open all around the hall.

  “You mean they’re zombies,” that idiot John says, eyes wide.

  I get a triple-speed flashback of the last four years hanging out with Hollis, and get instantly pissed. “Don’t call them that,” I say.

  John stands up. He dresses like a douche bag vampire, his dark hair hanging in his face.

  “If that’s how they infect you, they sound like zombies!”

  Damon adjusts his glasses. “Zombies are technically undead. These people aren’t dead. They’re just sick.”

  “What the hell would you call them, then?” John’s voice is starting to get hysterical. “Somebody’s chewing on your bones, they’re not just sick!”

  I get to my feet. “Dude,” I say to John. “They’re not zombies, okay? Cut that shit out.” I’m still thinking of Hollis as I say it. No one’s calling my bud anything; I don’t care what he’s done.

  Then I think about the gun in Damon’s car. How ready Chad was to go get it. That we’ve got a melee arsenal assembled in the scene shop. My god, what is happening to us?

  “Okay, how about monsters?” John goes on.

  “Don’t you get it?” I shout at him. “They are people, they’re people we go to school with who are sick and who might be dying!”

  And, I don’t bother adding, my sister and my girlfriend might be among them for all I know. My sister was sick once before, and the thought of anyone referring to her as anything other than that makes me want to hit something.

  “We’re dying!” John says. “And they’re killing us! That makes them monsters. You think that shit is just gonna wear off? They just, what, need two aspirin and a nap? God! They’re already dead, man, dead and walking. That makes them undead, which makes them zombies in my book.”

  My hands turn into fists. “We don’t know if they can be … fixed,” I sputter, knowing even as I speak what a stupid word that is to use, but too pissed off to correct myself. “And dying is not the same as dead.”

  “No, but it’s next-door fucking neighbors, isn’t it?”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Chad says, holding up his hands. “Am I the frickin’ peacekeeper now? Chill out.”

  I’m so tense by this point that I almost risk taking a swing at my best friend, if for no other reason than I know he can take it. Just to have the satisfaction of hitting something.

  “Tell ’em what your mom said about that town,” Chad says to me.

  Everyone in the hall stares up at me, eyes wide, hungry for information. I tell them everything Mom said about Arroyo. Kids gasp and clutch each other as I explain the entire town was wiped out.

  “But we saw helicopters here, downtown,” I say. “Maybe it’s the FBI, or CDC, or … CNN for all I know. My mom is telling people we’re here, and they’re going to come get us out.”

  Eventually, I think to myself, but don’t say it.

  My cell vibrates in my pocket right then. Without thinking, I pull the phone out and open it up. “Hello!”

  “… Brian.”

  “He’s got a phone?” someone whispers stupidly at my feet. Of course I have a phone, I want to shout. You think my mother was up on the roof?

  I walk through the seated group, and they all rise to their feet behind me.

  “Kenzie?” I say. “God, where are you, are you okay? What’s happened, where are you?”

  “They’re still here,” Kenzie whispers. “Oh, god, they’re right outside. They were too close to use the phone before now. I had to shut it off so it wouldn’t make any noise at all …”

  I shut my eyes and grit my teeth. It’s her sick voice, her scared voice, the voice I heard for a year while she fought through the leukemia. She sounds as young now as she did seven years ago while we waited and prayed.

  “I gotta call my mom!” someone shouts behind me.

  I wave my arm behind me to shut them up.

  “Kenzie,” I say, “listen to me. Where are you? Are you still on campus?”

  “Me too!” someone else shouts. “I gotta call my family! I’m next!”

  “We’re in the library,” Kenzie whispers. “Behind the checkout counter. But there’s these … people outside … and the librarian, she looks like a …”

  “No way!” another kid squeals. “My dad’s sick at home. I have to call him first!”

  I barely perceive sounds of a struggle now developing just a few yards behind me. I turn to look; five or six different kids are shoving each other as Chad, Jaime, and Travis try to calm them down. Serena’s on her feet, clapping her hands and shouting to break it up.

  “I know, I know,” I say into the phone. “We’re coming to get you, okay? I swear to god, I’m going to come and get you. But listen to me, Kenzie—”

  “Brian, please, I’m really scared here.”

  “I know, I know, okay? But you’ve got to listen to me—”

  Most of the remaining stagecraft class is now in a free-for-all shouting match, arguing over who gets to use my phone next. I see the two girls Dave has been consoling actually punch each other while he tries to split them up.

  Jesus. It’s a panic, worse than when we all evacuated into the hall from the Black Box. Worse because, for the moment, we’re actually safe from those sick people and are instead swinging at each other.

  Just like I’d been about to.

  “Stay where you are,” I say quickly into the phone. “Stay right where you are and stay quiet. And listen—don’t let them bite you. Okay? Whatever you do, do not let them bite you.”

  “Did you say bite? Why would—”

  “Just do it,” I order her. “Okay? We’ll come to get you as soon as we can.”

  “I called it first. I’m calling my house!” someone screams above the chaos.

  Shit. I’m going to have to put the phone away, and fast.

  “Kenzie,” I say. “What about Laura? Have you seen Laura, is she with you?”

  “Laura …” Kenzie sniffs quietly. My heart sinks. “Yeah, she’s in the—”

  “Brian!”

  Chad’s baritone breaks through the noise. I spin around just as some chick tackles my arm, yanking the phone away from my ear before I can hear Kenzie finish.

  “Gimme it!” the chick screeches.

  The phone pops out of my hand, flies through the air, and nails the opposite wall. It falls to the ground, and the battery bursts out.

  This unleashes the rest of the crowd. They charge after my phone before I can even move, tangled up in this chick’s hands. The phone gets kicked one way, the battery another. Feet stampeding, kids screaming for the phone, people crying.

  “Break it up!” Jaime shouts, barreling into the middle of them. “Break! It! U—”

  A cracking sound penetrates the din.

  Everyone shuts up and stops moving.

  “Oh, no.” I groan and shove through them. “No, no, no, you idiots …”

  They back off. My cell lies in two pieces, the screen shattered.

  I bend down and pick the pieces up. Dumbly try to fit them back together at the hinge. No one says a word.

  I throw my head back and scream.

  The others flinch, then move quickly down the hall. I fall to the floor, holding the two pieces, one in each hand. I think I might be crying.

  I chant a litany of cuss words for some time before I sense several bodies surrounding me.

  “Man, this sucks,” I hear Chad say above me.

  “Sorry, Brian,” I hear Travis say to my left.

  I get to my feet and snort up a wad of snot. “This is ridiculous,” I say helplessly to no one in particular. I hack the snot into my throat and spit it against the wall. “This is a goddam clusterfuck.”

  Jaime is on my right. He casts a worried look over his shoulder. I follow his gaze, ready to pounce on anyone in that group who makes one single sound.

  Jaime turns back to us. “We’d better secure the food,” he says quietly.


  I glance down at the busted phone in my hands. Destroyed in a blind panic. Fear.

  “Yeah,” I say back.

  “Follow me,” Jaime says, and turns to face the group down the hall.

  Chad, Travis, and I fall into step beside him.

  We are definitely in charge now.

  And I’m not waiting another second to go get my sister.

  IT’S ONLY BEEN A COUPLE OF HOURS SINCE THIS whole situation started, and already we’re falling apart. The blond girl in Serena’s arms is just flat-out breaking down, sobbing. John’s pacing in tight circles again, muttering something about zombies. Everyone else—except for Kat, who’s scowling and watching Jaime, awaiting orders—looks dazed and fearful.

  My expression might have something to do with it.

  Jaime leads us right through the middle of them. Kat falls in behind, with Damon behind her. Jaime marches into Golab’s office, waits for us to enter, then quickly shuts the door and throws the doorknob lock. He stands with his back against it.

  Kat picks up Golab’s phone, listens, sets it down. “Phone’s still out.”

  “Brian,” Jaime says. “In the corner. Red bag. Look for a bike lock.”

  I cross to Golab’s filing cabinet, where a red duffel bag sits on the floor. I unzip it, revealing a violin case, some books, and at the bottom, a thin bike chain in blue plastic with a padlock on the end.

  “Chain the fridge,” Jaime orders.

  I don’t argue. I go to the white refrigerator with side-by-side doors and wrap the chain around the fridge and freezer door handles several times, then snap the lock shut.

  “There’s a whole bunch of really scared people out there,” Kat says. “They’re going to need to be dealt with.”

  Something about the words she chose makes my skin crawl.

  Jaime takes a cautious step away from the door, as if to make sure no one is going to try to bust through from the hall. “What are we going to tell them?” he asks us. “About the food?”

  “We’re not gonna be here long enough for it to matter,” Chad says.

  “We might be,” Travis argues.

  “This is the United States of America,” Kat says, pretty calm under the circumstances. “We’re not in Rwanda here, you guys. Someone’ll show up, we’ve just got to sit tight.”