Infected Ties

The summer’s heat whips at Mateo and he feels his breath shortening and his throat tighten out of dryness; but he can’t stop running. He can hear their footsteps clambering behind him. That’s the issue with these infected folks, they can turn out all sorts of ways once the parasite has taken over their vital organs; most importantly their brain. They can either enhance the traits of their hosts or completely change them. The two following behind him must have taken over hosts who were track stars or seriously mutated their muscles and lungs, because they have been steadily following him at a sprint for what feels like forever.

Mateo curses himself for being weaponless. He can feel his heartbeat beating erratically against his sternum and knows that in the next few minutes his stamina is going to give out. He scans the area quickly looking for any sign of sufficient cover, and unfortunately for him he’s in the middle of rural Nebraska, an area with little infrastructure, and the buildings that were there look to be dilapidated. One building though looks like it wants to stand upright and that seems to be Mateo’s safest option. Summoning the last bit of energy in his legs he charges over to and through the doors and quickly throws the nearest objects to form a makeshift barricade. On the other side they pound but the barricade holds, leaving the infected to scrape away at the door with their foot long claws.

Mateo’s shoulders rise and fall as he allows himself the small relief in relaxing; unfortunately he let his guard down too soon because when he turns around he is faced with a young woman with platinum white hair who’s holding a shotgun directly between Mateo’s eyes.

“Give me a reason why I shouldn’t shoot you now for bringing those things to my doorstep?” Her face forms into a cold sneer.

Still trying to catch his breath, Mateo answers, “Because...I’m a fellow survivor?”

She smirked and cocked her gun. Mateo should have been more agitated about the situation than he is, but he can’t shake the feeling that the woman before him is familiar. The shape of her face, that hubristic smirk taunting him, and those hazel eyes.

“W-Whitney,” Mateo quietly stutters out. He’s finally found Whitney. She’s alive, and currently about to blow his head off.

She tightens her grip on the gun and gives a hard glare. She looks him up and down, her gaze lingering on his face. After a moment her eyes widen and she lets out a small gasp, “ Mateo Marquez?”

Mateo nods as a dopey grin overtakes his face, “In the flesh.”

Whitney gives off a smile and her muscles twitch at the unusual movement She lowers the gun and motions for Mateo to follow her. The deeper he moves into the building the more he realizes that it isn’t a house, but rather an old bar. It has a similar charm to a saloon you would see in an old western film. Even more surprising, most of the booze hasn’t been looted.

“So, you’ve been holding up here?” Mateo asks as he takes a seat at the bar. Whitney is grabbing two glasses and nods, looking up at Mateo, “You’re still a bourbon man, right?” Mateo doesn’t think he’s much of an anything man after he and Whitney came back from orbit with their coworker who spread an alien virus that has sent a good portion of the country into chaos. Mateo doesn’t voice this and simply gives Whitney a small smile which she returns and begins pouring them their drinks.

“I almost didn’t recognize you back there, Mateo. More muscle and hair. ,” Whitney says. Mateo supposes he must be different from the string bean at NASA.

“I could say the same. When did you...” Mateo motions to his hair.

“A week or two after the country fell apart.”

“Ah.” Mateo flatly finishes. He takes a sip of his bourbon and the silence consumes the two of them. Each with questions they long to ask the other, but not quite sure what to say.

“You know, I’ve been looking for you actually.”

“What, you missed me?” Whitney quips.

“Sort of,” Mateo’s face darkens and Whitney notices the seriousness of his expression, “ I need your help.”

Whitney quirks an eyebrow in response, her drink to her lips.

“I’ve spent a lot of time thinking about what the parasite is, what life form we encountered out there, and how it functions and I know I’m on the cusps of something revolutionary—“

“And you need my help because you’re just not quite there yet?” Whitney supplies.

“You and I were the only survivors on that mission. We’re the only ones with a clue on how to stop this infection.”

“Wow, you’re acting more self-righteous than I last remember.”

“And you’re more of an ass than I remember.”

Whitney huffs a dry laugh and shoots the rest of her alcohol down her throat.

“The answer is no, Mateo. I have a good spot here, the perfect place to forget the world and me along with it.”

“Whitney...” Mateo starts and stands up.

“No, I’m not helping. Our efforts would add up to a zero sum, just like before.”

“You don’t know that—“

“I do!” Whitney yells. She locks eyes with Mateo’s widening ones, “I do know that. Don’t you remember what those things did to Alex? She told us after we landed that she wasn’t feeling well. We thought it was nerves, sorrow after losing Francis, or heck, maybe even the altitude. She was sent to the sick bay, and next thing we know, Alex had killed the on duty nurse and her hands were no longer hands, but large gangly claws that replaced her fingers. And her mouth—“

“Yeah, what I don’t need is the retelling of one of the worst days of my life. I remember, Whitney.”

“Really? Because you certainly don’t act like it.”

“Act like what?” Mateo’s blood pressure rises.

“Act like this all isn’t our fault!” Whitney exclaims.

“Then it’s our job to fix it,” Mateo reminds her coldly, “Or would you rather I crawl in a hole, like you have, where I get wasted everyday to forget. Some of us don’t have the luxury of self-pity!”

If Whitney’s stunned silence is any indicator that Mateo has been correct in his hunch about her alcohol abuse, then he knows he is right in that she never plans to leave this place.

“Truth hurts.” Mateo eyes Whitney closely. He might have been too harsh on her, but it’s the truth. Underneath the fear Whitney has clouded herself in, she is one of the most resilient people he has known.

“I know you’re scared,” He softly says, “I’d be lying to say I wasn’t or that our task is an easy one. But, it’s for the reason of knowing what happened to Alex and Francis will soon happen to everyone, and knowing I could have done something to prevent that is more than I can bare.” Whitney relaxes a little and her crossed arms begin to loosen.

“I have to try, and I’d like you to try with me. Though, if you’d rather, I can leave. I will walk out and never come back. I just ask that if you don’t do it for me or the country, or whatever, please do it for Luisa.”

Mateo’s words become watered as he tries to hold himself together as he pulls out his daughter’s locket. The locket’s gold finish is dulled due to years of wear and when Mateo pops it open, there’s a small picture of him and his daughter. They share the same unruly curls. From their smiles alone you can see that love is evident in both of them from the memory captured. She must be older now, because both her and Mateo look so young.

Whitney reaches out to the locket and peers at the small picture, “What’s happened to her?” She dreads hearing the answer.

“She’s infected, has been for a while actually. I’ve been able to decelerate the parasite with my anti-viral, and she’s been fighting it off so well, but it won’t leave her system. I haven’t perfected it and maybe I thought—“

“Take me to her.” Whitney interrupted.

Mateo nods, takes a big sniff to help fend off threatening tears, and stashes the locket back into one of his many pockets.

“I got here on foot, you got a ride?”

Whitney gives one of her iconic smirks, “I may have something.”

The duo didn’t want to risk wasting bullets on the two infected on the frontside of the bar, Whitney ushers Mateo out a small back door that reveals a rusted black motorbike. Not the prettiest vehicle, but it’ll get the job done. Whitney hopped onto the front leaving Mateo to fumble a little before he found something to hold onto in the back. The motorbike sputters as black smoke gushes out the tailpipe. Whitney turns back to throw Mateo a helmet which he barely had time to put on because a moment after Whitney threw it, she kicks the bike off and hit the gas with a lead—no, lead is much too light— an osmium foot. The tires screech and spin out for a moment before understandably they are meant to move forward, and the bike roars into action.

The landscape is dry with very little pavement and Mateo found himself lucky to have been given the helmet to keep out the amount of dirt that must be layering a thick coat on Whitney. She doesn’t seem phased by anything though, in fact, she seems to be relishing the wind whipping her hair and letting the sun’s rays beat on her face.

A piercing shriek ripples through the hum of the motorbike. Mateo whips his head around trying to find the source of the sound to see an abnormally large infected running towards them on all fours. The creature looked more bear-like than human. Has the parasite mutated that much or is its host a bear? The details didn’t matter at the moment as the thing started pacing itself faster and faster trampling over the dried grass.

“Whitney, we have company!” Mateo shouts over the wind.

Whitney grimaces, and while Mateo won’t be able to get her shotgun, he can use her handgun. One hand on the bike and the other reaches down to a holster on her thigh. She shimmies the handgun out of its confinement and reaches back towards Mateo, “Here, try this.”

Mateo flicks off the gun’s safety and, as safely as he could, positioned himself to be able to aim and stay steady on the bike. The creature clambers closer and has its mouth agape showing all it’s pointy sets of teeth circling his mouth. They almost remind Mateo of a shark’s mouth. He tries to aim for the bit of red tissue he can see indicating the opening of the creature’s mouth and fires. Mateo doesn’t think he hit his intended target but the bullet did strike the creature who took a moment to understand what happened, but now that its registered the sting, it looks even more ferocious. Another shriek and Mateo fires a few bullets, all hitting the internal tissue. This slows down the infected, but it’s still tailing after the motorbike. Mateo doesn’t know how many bullets Whitney’s gun can hold, but he knows the clip is getting low. He takes aim and hits the creature in its torso, making the creature cry out in pain, with the mouth visible again, Mateo fires again and lands a critical hit. The creature stumbles around and slowly gives up the chase.

“Not too shabby with a gun are you, Marquez?” Whitney says a bit too lightheartedly after their close call.

“Only as a necessity,” Mateo calls out. They fall back into a comfortable silence and Mateo’s thoughts drift off to his daughter.