Virgil sat in the back end of the pitch-black eighteen-wheeler along with twenty-odd fellow survivors. It had been a month since they'd walked out of that zombie-ravaged camp with their lives intact. At first he'd thought himself one of the lucky ones, but now he wasn't so sure.
The oppressive heat and humidity made it difficult to breathe. Sweat poured down his portly face as the wheels jostled underneath him, causing everyone's bodies to rise and fall along the hard bed. He rubbed his eyes and stared into the dark depths of the cargo container, knowing full well that he should feel blessed for having escaped the Boston Common with his life intact. But hearing the moans and cries of the people sitting around him, he couldn’t envision a worse scenario. He almost wished he hadn't made it out alive.
The truck moved slowly, jostling back and forth as it traversed over the corpses along the road. This was the second of the two rigs hijacked from the abandoned truck terminal Annabelle had discovered in South Boston. Annabelle commandeered the first eighteen-wheeler and Jamaal, the burly black guy from the South, drove the truck Virgil now rode in. He had no idea where they were going or if they had enough fuel to get there. He'd heard vague mention about heading out west, possibly to Washington State, but in truth he didn’t really care where they ended up as long as they could get out of this sweatbox and breathe some fresh air.
The truck downshifted and began climbing a steep hill. The trailer rocked from side to side and for a second he feared it might topple over the cliff. He took a deep breath and coughed. It had to be well over a hundred degrees inside. He could hear the cries and gasps of the others sitting along the urine pooled floor. He'd no doubt that some passengers had passed out from the heat and he feared that many of the older ones might not make it out alive. But there was nothing he or anyone else could do. There was no way to communicate to Jamaal in the cab and inform him of the severity of the situation. The doors of the container had been locked tight and were impossible to open from the inside.
“Virgil, are you there?” the elderly woman next to him called out.
“I’m right here, Mrs. Sweeney. What’s wrong?”
“I'm so hot and tired. May I hold your hand?’
“Yes, of course.”
Virgil clasped her hand in his own, cringing at the idea of human contact in this overbearing heat. Lilith Sweeney was in her mid-sixties and had taught high school English at Boston Latin in her previous life. She'd lived in the apartment across from him and had been his closest friend in the Common camp.
“Hold on, Mrs. Sweeney. Lie down and put your head on my lap.”
“Okay.” She lay back and he could feel her damp hair resting on his thigh.
“You feeling any better?”
“A bit, thank you. But please keep holding my hand just in case.”
“You know I won't let go.”
“I know, Virgil. Sometimes I think it might be better if I leave this world so that the rest of you can focus on the healthy ones.”
“Don’t talk nonsense. Everyone here is a valued member of our group. And trust me, you’ll feel a lot better once this truck stops and we get some fresh air.”
“What makes you think it will stop? There’s probably thousands of those infected things out there just waiting to get at us.”
“Don’t you worry. Dar will figure something out. She always has, hasn't she?”
“True, but Dar's only a human girl. She's no match for the plague and pestilence that has rained down upon us,” she said, her voice becoming shallower. “Our only hope is to put our lives in God's hands and pray that He will have mercy on our souls. Would you mind praying with me?”
“I’m not much of a religious person, Mrs. Sweeney.”
“Oh nonsense, Virgil. We all believe in something. Whether we know it or not is a different matter. Even the nonbelievers believe. It’s just a matter of opening your heart and listening to the spirit that lives all around us. And I’m not talking about religion. No, I’m talking about the gift that our creator has endowed us with. No matter what you believe in, God or no God, all you need to do is open your heart and listen. Are you listening, Virgil?”
“Yes.”
“Good. Then that means you're praying.”
Virgil clutched the elderly woman’s frail hand as she closed her eyes and prayed. Despite all that had happened in the last year, he still wasn’t fully convinced that God existed. And yet he did not rule out the possibility, either. The scientist in him kept open the notion that a greater being existed even though he'd long ago stopped praying. He’d considered both options and decided that neither of them could be proved or disproved by scientific evidence, and because of that he kept an open mind. And he wanted to believe in God in the worst possible way. His father had been a Methodist minister and he’d grown up relying on his faith. As a young boy, his faith had been something he’d clung to in times of crisis. But when his older brother got diagnosed with terminal cancer at the age of fourteen, he cursed God and cast Him out of his life. As he grew older it became harder to justify the church dogma and all the rules he'd learned as a child, and he easily slipped out of that skin and began to think for himself.
He wiped his hand over the elderly woman’s damp hair as the truck veered wildly to his right. It felt as if they'd been traveling up a winding, steep hill. Screams went up as people sensed the distinct possibility of plunging down the gulley. The heat felt so stifling now that Virgil thought at one point he might pass out. He leaned back against a carton of canned goods and closed his eyes in order to reserve what little energy he had left. An infant began to scream and the sound of its pierce shrill nearly caused him to cry. He no longer cared if he died. Was life worth living in such misery, constantly on the run?
Without warning, the truck leveled out and began to slow down. Virgil opened his eyes as the sound of belching brakes signaled that they were coming to a stop. He waited patiently to see what would happen. The double doors swung open and sunlight poured in. Air! The passengers stood warily and began to head toward the exit. Momentarily blinded, he shook Mrs. Sweeney's shoulder but got no response. He scooped her frail body in his arms and struggled to carry her toward the open end of the trailer. Though blurred with sweat, and slipping on the metal floor, he could see the massive figure of Jamaal standing on the ground below and helping people down. To his relief, he looked around and saw not a zombie in sight.
“Pass her down, man,” Jamaal said, beefy arms outstretched.
“She's fading. Hurry up and get her some water.”
Jamaal took the elderly woman in his arms and carried her basket-style away from the truck. Virgil wiped his eyes and gazed out over the horizon. What he saw surprised him. The cloud-studded blue sky went on for as far as the eye could see. The air at this elevation felt much cooler than below. He could have stared at this rustic landscape all day if it wasn’t for the collection of dots moving en masse along the country roads like a colony of ants. Then it all came back to him. The horde was still out there, roaming the earth and on the prowl for human flesh. He saw them turning and snaking up the mountain road leading to this peak.
He climbed down off the truck bed and made his way onto the dirt road. The passengers lay sprawled out along the grass, gulping in cool air and fanning themselves with their hands. He located Jamaal standing over Mrs. Sweeney and jogged over to the woman's side. One of the doctors knelt next to her and poured water over her hot forehead and face.
“Is she going to be okay?” Virgil asked.
“I’m afraid there’s nothing I can do for her. Her temperature is extremely high and we have no way of cooling her down other than with water. She’s on in years and that makes matters worse.”
“There must be something we can do.”
“Sure, Virgil, say a prayer for the lady.”
The woman’s breathing became labored and shallow and her skin translucent. All around him he saw people suffering from the effects of heat exhaustion, trauma and stress. But they were much younger than the old lady and in better physical shape. The woman gasped sharply, sucked in a quick breath, and then struggled to breathe. Virgil leaned over and held her hand.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t help you more,” he whispered.
“It’s not your fault, Virgil. You did the best you could,” she whispered back. “Just take good care of yourself and be considerate of others. The spirit will always burn bright inside a person like you.”
Then she took a deep breath, closed her eyes and stopped breathing.
“She didn’t deserve to die like this,” he said, burying his head in his hands.
“None of us do, Virgil.” The doctor placed his arm around his shoulder and tried to comfort him. “You do realize what’s going to happen next?”
“Of course.”
“I’ll take her away then and ensure she doesn’t turn into one of them,” the doctor said, reaching under her body.
“Wait,” Virgil said, grabbing his arm. “Let me be the one to do it.”
"You sure?"
"Yes, I was close to her."
“Your call, but you better make it quick. I have a feeling that we're not going to be staying here too long.”
Virgil reached under Mrs. Sweeney’s frail body and lifted the dead woman, then carried her up the hill toward the first eighteen-wheeler. People stood as he passed, paying their respects. Once he approached the peak, Dar walked over and stood in his way. He could see the countryside off in the distance as she stared at him with a fierce expression. Over her shoulder rested the ax and below her stood Styx clinging to her leg and swinging his toy ax in the air. She reached down into her boot and pulled out a hunter's knife and passed it over to him.
“I'll do it.”
“She was a friend of mine Dar. I think I should be the one.”
“Better make it quick then. We’re not here to picnic.”
He stared at her, trying to control his anger. “I understand what's at stake, Dar.”
“Don’t let her start talking or else you’ll get sucked in by all that spiritual bullshit. You need to waste her right away. Understand? Don't matter how close you were to her.”
“I just want to see her off with a modicum of dignity and respect.”
“Like I said, make it quick.”
He took the knife and watched Dar step back. Nodding, he moved past. Annabelle and the large soldier also stepped aside to let him pass. Virgil trudged up the hill and toward the peak. Sweat poured down his face as he reached the massive granite outcropping at the top. He climbed the large boulder, the sun warming his scalp, shoulders and arms, and gently placed her body along the rounded contour of the granite boulder. The cool breeze up here felt refreshing and novel. He stared out at the panoramic view of the countryside, feeling the sun's warm rays on his face and neck. Calm now, he felt like he could sit up here forever. Seconds later he heard Mrs. Sweeney calling out to him and he knew he should have already plunged that knife into her head. The woman had come back quicker than expected. He grabbed her hand and waited for her to say something.
“I’m sorry I couldn’t take better care of you.”
“The spirit is out there even when you don’t realize it. Promise me you will listen for it. They will tell you who the chosen ones are.”
“Okay.” He lifted the knife over his head.
“I'm at peace now and have no desire to return to my old life, especially after seeing the kingdom up close and personal. Those that survive will be left to clean up the terrible mess left by past generations. Only a few will determine the future of your planet.”
“Please don’t leave me,” he said, knowing such words were futile.
The elderly woman looked up and smiled, her hand caressing his wet cheek. The sweat had dried over her face and even her hair appeared fresh and healthy. She looked at peace but he knew that it was only a matter of seconds before she made the terrible transition to the living dead. He gripped the knife in his hands and held it over her infected head. She’d already closed her eyes in preparation of the next phase. He turned her body over until she lay on her stomach. Straddling her back and pinching her arms in with his knees, Virgil continued holding the knife. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he worked up the courage to plunge the steel into her diseased brain.
But then he felt himself getting heaved backward and tumbling off the granite boulder. He let go of the knife. His legs flew up over his head and he landed hard on the dirt below. It felt like a punch in the diaphragm. He saw the old woman jumping on top of him, but it wasn't the same Lilith Sweeney. Her lifeless eyes looked savage and her skin had the unwholesome appearance of someone who'd passed away many months ago. He crab-walked backwards in order to escape her wrath, feeling for the knife he'd dropped during the fall. She landed on top of him, and he cried out at the top of his lungs, trying to get out from under the weight of her corpse, which was now perfumed by death. Expecting at any moment for her teeth to sink into him, he fought her with all his might. The stench repulsed him as he pummeled his fists over his head in attempt to beat her back. A stream of warm, gelatinous fluid splashed against his face.
What the fu—...?
He swiped at his eyes and pushed her off him. The now headless corpse lay sprawled out over the dirt, spread-eagled and inert. Horrified, he sat back against the boulder, the warm blood pooling down in his forehead and into his eyes.
“I should have let that old broad have at you,” Dar said, standing over him.
“I'm sorry... I just couldn’t do it.”
“I told you to do it quick,” she said. “You’re a weakling, Snow. I won't allow cowards to travel with us.”
“I know how it looks, Dar, but I’m really not a weak person. Sentimental, yes. But not weak.”
“Same difference. There’s no room for indecision anymore because one slight hesitation might cause the death of everyone else in this group.” Dar leaned on the handle of the ax.
"Please forgive me."
“Screw forgiveness. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t just leave you here?”
“Because I’m loyal and can help you and the others survive. I give you my word, Dar, it’ll never happen again.”
“I'm not buying it.”
“My word is all I have.”
“Christ, just look at you. You're a tub of lard with a heart of gold. A goddamn short order cook. And any asshole with a fry pan can master those skills. What else do you have to offer me besides your word?”
“My promise that it will never happen again.”
Annabelle moved and stood between them.
“I can vouch for him, Dar. Virgil’s one of our best people. In fact we're lucky to even have him.”
“Lucky to have Snow?” She stared at Annabelle as if she were crazy. “Why are you standing up for this loser?”
“He’s not a loser, Dar. Besides, we all have shit we had to deal with back at the camp. Just because he behaved like a fool in this instance doesn’t mean Virgil's useless. If that’s the case you might as well leave everyone here on this mountain, because there’s not one of us here that hasn't screwed up at least once.”
Dar glared at her.
“Okay, Belle, I'll take you at your word. But from now on you’re responsible for this piece of shit. If he screws up again it’ll be your ass on the line.”
“You won't have to worry about Virgil Snow from now on, Dar. I'll keep a close eye on him.”
Dar turned and stalked off. Annabelle reached down and helped Virgil to his feet. His legs felt shaky and his entire body trembled from the near-death encounter. He glanced down and saw the old woman's severed head lying on its ear.
“Don't worry about her, Virge. She's just in a surly mood today. Come on, let's head back down and join up with the others.”
“Thanks so much, Annabelle.”
“Forget it.”
“Dar said I'm useless. I'm not really a useless person, you know.”
“Hell if I know you’re not useless. I just want more of your famous home fries again. That's the only reason I saved your ass in the first place.” Annabelle laughed. “Lilith Sweeney was a nice lady. I'm sorry for your loss.”
He nodded at her thoughtfulness.
“I’m not sure what it is about you, Virge, but the one thing I do know is that you’re definitely not useless.”
“At least not in my other life.”
“Not in this one, either.” She smiled. “Remember when you asked me that day to go out into the horde and bring back all your books? You begged me to keep that a secret between us and I agreed. I may not have been born yesterday, pal, but I know for a fact that a so-called ‘university janitor’ doesn’t have his own office at MIT overlooking the Charles River.”
Virgil looked away, not wanting to think about his previous life. It seemed as if it had taken place a thousand years ago.
“Look, Virge, I’ve never mentioned that favor to anybody and I’m not about to tell anyone now. But I do know that you must have been pretty special to have been Director of the Genetics Research Lab, whatever the hell that is.”
“You read my files?” He chuckled.
“Figured you wouldn't mind for the price of getting all your books back.” She poked long her finger in his chest. “Just don’t piss Dar off again. Okay?’
Virgil nodded.
“I also think you should tell the others who you are and what you did for a living before this plague screwed everything up. There should be no secrets between us anymore.”
“You're right. I have nothing to hide.”
“My life used to be an open book before all this happened. I couldn't even use the bathroom without some paparazzi asshole wiping my ass to snap a picture of me snorting a line.” She started walking down the hill. “Come on, bro, let’s head back down and join up with the others.”