Virgil walked out of the bar and fell into single file along the main street of the small town. Behind him stood Gritz, keeping up the rear. Dar led the small group, toting Styx on her back. Next came Annabelle, Felicia, Rachael and Tony, whose long, strong hand he now held in his own.
All around him the zombies stood staring at them in a menacing manner, but they didn't attack, instead following them as they walked along the road and up to the embankment leading to the train tracks, which ran parallel to the interstate. Oddly enough, he hadn't noticed these train tracks before.
The zombies focused on them, and at times charged as if they would attack, but otherwise kept their distance. Virgil gazed down the human chain and stared at Annabelle. She looked beautiful today, her hair up in a bun and her cheeks ruddy from the cold. He wished he could have walked behind her and held her hand in his own. But it wasn't to be. Dar had already decided each person's position in line and the decision was final.
They began to walk westward down the train tracks. Everywhere he looked he saw the dead staring at them, following, dropping off and giving way to another dead, waiting patiently for one of them to unclasp their hand and release immunity. With her free hand, Dar used her ax to push the dead out of her way and press through the snarling mob.
He gazed out at this new breed of zombie, amazed at how rapidly the dead had mutated in such a short time. Their susceptibility to adaption had been far greater then he'd ever imagined. He chalked it up to some fast-forwarded mutation in the targeted gene that sped up their metabolism, for lack of a better theory.
He heard a cracking noise behind him and whirled around, and saw Gritz shattering one of the runner's skulls. This new breed of zombie seemed to be getting braver the further west they traveled.
He and Tony had spent some time over the winter discussing the possible causes and solutions to this plague. They'd discussed all manner of biological agents and in particular the molecular structures and behaviors of certain viruses. The intervention therapy introduced by Calloway had been a disaster and had made the dead far more dangerous than before. But one thing Tony had said in their discussions had somehow resonated with him, and he couldn't quite shake it from his mind. The statement was both profound and simple at its core, and yet bells went off in his head when he heard it.
Bacteria have been on this earth for over two and a half billion years.
His calf and thigh muscles ached from the long hours spent cooped up inside that bar. The others had repeatedly nagged him to get up and exercise. Even Tony, who spent hours sitting with his legs crossed, meditating or whatever it was he did, warned that he'd pay dearly for his inactivity. Gritz and Dar had their routines, which they performed daily. Even Felicia and Annabelle joined them at times, although at a much slower pace. As for Rachael, the new Amish girl, she was young and athletic and had an agility about her that was typical for her age.
The plains opened up on either side of them and the cool spring winds rushed past. All across the plains the runners searched aimlessly for the living. But surely there were no more people left in the world. And what people did remain must have been barricaded behind fences, compounds or protected by geographical entities such as an island or a mountain. Virgil kept pushing on despite the cramp in his hip and the stitch developing in his side, too afraid to ask them to stop so he could rest.
He'd been thinking about viruses throughout the winter until Tony brought up the subject of bacteria. Although he'd been knowledgeable in microbiology, his understanding of the subject had not been on par with his expertise in virology. Tony, in fact, had a much better understanding of the human micro biome than he did it, and because of that he ended up asking Tony a whole host of questions until he had a better understanding of the subject.
His legs and lungs seared with pain, and he regretted not getting in shape like the others. They walked along the train tracks for over an hour and at one point he felt he might faint if he didn't stop and rest. The zombies walked alongside them, glaring, the rank of their fetid odor hard to ignore. He was afraid to speak out and tell the others he needed a break, but he was even more fearful of tripping and letting go of their hands.
“Dar! I really need to rest,” he finally blurted out when he couldn't go any further.
“Really, dude?” She stopped and glared back at him. “Didn't we all tell you to get in shape?”
“I'm dying, Dar. I need to rest as well,” Felicia added.
“Do you two not realize that we're surrounded by these fuckers? Fast ones too?”
“Just a few minutes, please, and then I'll be ready to go.”
“You and the Prez have five minutes to get your shit together. Then we're back on the road. Make sure everyone continues to hold hands.”
The group sat down on the rail. Annabelle held onto Dar so she could reach up and grab Styx off her shoulders.. The horde gathered around them and jostled for position. Gritz continued to stand upright, holding onto Virgil's hand for protection. Using his right hand, he began to swing the flanged mace at the dead, sending their headless corpses flying down the embankment. The other runners standing around seemed not the least bit concerned and continued pressing ahead.
“I've been thinking about what you've said, Tony,” whispered Virgil. “About bacteria and its importance in human development.”
“Me too, Virgil. It's made me rethink everything I know about human biology and this plague in particular.”
“We are born with our DNA. It provides us with a blueprint for our genetic makeup. Genes make proteins which provide us with the necessary tools for survival, yet when we are born we have no microbes to speak of.”
“Exactly. The first microbes we inherit come from the mother as we pass through the birth canal, which is why babies born by the Caesarian method are less equipped from the start.”
“You spoke of the H. pylori microbe and its importance to human digestion.”
“It came from Africa and is over two hundred thousand years old. A pathogen such as that is extremely durable and must be able to withstand the incredible assault upon it by human digestive acids. As a person ages, this particular pathogen can cause ulcers and even cancer, but in one's formative years it contributes to inhibiting other ailments.”
“Yes, and you mentioned how antibiotics have in the last century killed off many of the healthy bacteria.”
“Every successive generation is losing thousands of bacterial species because of the use of antibiotics, and many of these species are vital to maintaining our health.”
“Don't you see, Tony? That might be the key to understanding this.”
“I'm not following you.”
“I've been wracking my brain thinking about this after our many discussions. Dar's Second Scroll talks in depth about genetically modified foods. The modification of crops made them resistant to pests and therefore the important bacterial exposure that comes from such ecological diversity. Thus when livestock consumed these crops they failed to receive the pathogens needed to maintain a healthy micro biome.”
“I never thought about that. When it's passed onto humans as food it acts to wipe out certain species of bacteria, including H. pylori, which maintains a direct control on a person's metabolism and thus appetite.”
“Okay, everyone, time to head out. Get your shit together, Virgil. Same with you, Prez.”
They stood. Virgil repositioned his hand in Gritz's massive paw and began to slowly move forward, careful to step only on the wooden slats of the tracks lest the rocks make the soles of his feet sore.
“Don't you see, Tony?” he continued. “H. Pylori regulates metabolism and in turn a person's appetite. In its absence a person will keep on eating endlessly. The hormonal irregularities block the message of fullness to the brain. Thus the brain never knows when the stomach is full, just as these zombies continue to desire human flesh. The confluence of a viral/bacterial perfect storm seems like a possible explanation for this plague.”
“Yes, that makes a lot of sense,” Tony said. “It's no wonder you were so esteemed in your field.”
“Flattery will get you nowhere.” Virgil smiled.
“Now for the tough part,” Tony said. “How would one remedy the situation, and would one utilize viral intervention or micro biome repair?”
“Probiotics would be my best guess.”
“Meaning we somehow upgrade the horde's broken micro biome via the introduction of probiotics? Theoretically, a sound idea, Virgil, but how in the world do you expect to execute a plan like that on such a massive scale? In humans, they typically introduce a donor's small intestine into the patient and allow the new bacteria to acclimate. How would we operate on every member of the horde?”
“It would have to be accomplished on some massive scale, such as turning it into aerosol and making the bacteria airborne.”
“Or sending infected blankets to the zombies as a gift like your people did to our people many years ago.”
“Yeah, well I’m sorry that my ancestors were such assholes.”
“No need to apologize, Virgil. Wasn’t like you were the one sending those infected blankets. But thanks for the apology anyways.”
“I speak for all my ancestors.”
“Your transmission idea would be practically impossible to accomplish without the necessary technology needed to pull it off on such a large scale,” Tony said, looking over at one of the zombies following them.
“I imagine you'd have to lodge the spores into the upper atmosphere and let them settle around the world. How we could do that I have no idea.”
“A catastrophic event such as a volcanic eruption or massive cyclone,” Tony said. “What exactly do you propose the introduction of the H. pylori pathogen might do to these creeps?”
“It certainly won't destroy or cure them, nor will it change their mental capacity. But I'm guessing that it may temporarily trick their brains into believing that they are full, and thus slow down their ravenous appetites long enough to kill them.”
Tony laughed. “Except they're already dead.”
“Yes, the dead are already dead. Try and make sense out of that redundancy,” Virgil said. “It’s led me to another conclusion about human evolution. Watching those zombies mutate into faster versions has convinced me more than ever that the modern human species was the result of a sudden, violent change. I've come full circle on this.”
“You’re ruling out the theory of Natural Selection; Darwin’s notion of a slow gradual process?”
“Yes. A sudden leap occurred somewhere along the way that set humankind on this path. Did you see how fast that mutated virus spread throughout the horde? The geometrical progression of that contagion was astounding. I believe the same thing must have happened many millions of years ago, catapulting our species into its current existence.”
“How far is it to the Lakota Reservation?” Dar called back.
“We've still got a long way to go, Dar,” Tony replied.
“You better know where we're heading,” Dar said.
“This is the land of my ancestors, Dar. I know exactly where we're going.”
Despite the crowd of zombies following them, Virgil felt exhilarated by his eureka-like discovery. Maybe his theory held water. Or maybe this idea was simply crazy to begin with and impossible to execute. But the intellectual stimulation of thinking about such matters invigorated him and gave him reason to go on living. That and thinking about a possible future with Annabelle, as farfetched as that idea might seem at the moment. He looked over Tony's shoulder and stared at her, wondering if he truly loved her or if he'd confused his emotions because of the troubled times they lived in.
He continued on toward the reservation, hoping beyond hope that things might get better once they arrived. Would the Black Hills be a temporary stop or a permanent relocation? Of course Dar had other plans. She seemed hell-bent on reaching the West Coast. And since he'd tied his cart to her horse, he figured he'd follow her to the ends of the earth in pursuit of happiness.
* * *
Townsend parked the tank in front of the abandoned home and dragged the girl out with him. The snow began to come down in large flakes, creating an almost whiteout condition. The dead had completely surrounded the small farmhouse, the snow covering their bodies. They moved in that awkward, jerking manner. But for some reason they looked different today: faster, more agile and with quicker reflexes. He wondered if he was imagining this as he wiped his fatigued eyes.
He dragged her inside the house, noticing the woodpile stacked off to the side. The first thing he did was go into the kitchen. To his relief, every shelf of the walk-in cupboard was filled with dried and canned food. That sealed the deal for him. They would spend the winter here. After winter passed he had no idea where he would go. For the first time in his life he was genuinely worried about his future. And if he didn't find a way to tether the Amish girl to himself, she might simply get up and vanish one night while he was sleeping, leaving him to fend for himself. Of course she would die from exposure, which helped his cause, but it wouldn't be winter forever. Surely, there was no way he could survive going out into the horde without her immunity. The dead would eventually break in and tear him to pieces.
After securing all the locks on the doors, he grabbed the girl's wrist and collapsed on the couch. He had nothing to say to her, knowing that they would be stuck together over the winter, trying to make it until spring. After that he had nowhere to go. There was only so much gas left in the tank. Maybe he'd try and head back to the east coast where he'd started this journey, and hope to catch a ride on another one of those Navy ships.
“I'm frightened, General.”
“You're with me now. There's nothing to be frightened about.”
“Not for myself. For my family and friends back home.”
“They have their fence and each other. They'll be perfectly fine without you.” He held her delicate chin in his hand. “Don't worry, hon. I'll take care of you now.”
Hannah started to cry and he held her close, reveling in the clarity of his mind. Once again, God had sought to keep him safe.
He walked over to one of the boarded up windows and stared out at the horde staggering around the grounds. The snow fell hard and fast, and in huge, crystalline flakes. Something seemed odd about the dead. He kept his eyes peeled on them and for a moment thought he saw one of them running into the woods. No, that couldn't be. Was he hallucinating? He rubbed his eyes and walked over to the fireplace, threw in another log and proceeded to stoke the fire. Once it got roaring, he went back to the couch, chalking the hallucination up to exhaustion and stress. Of course zombies didn't run. They moved slowly and methodically. Just the idea of a fast moving zombie scared the piss out of him.
He looked over at the girl, knowing full well that after a few minutes’ rest they would have to secure the house, making sure they had enough wood to last for the winter. But for the moment he was tired, cold and hungry. He put his head in his hands and sighed, wondering how success had eluded him. And he wondered what was next in store.