The Infected, A PODs Novel

It’s been months since the shadow of death has plagued our lives. I stopped journaling because there wasn’t much to write about. Life was remarkably normal. Until now.

But now, because of new developments, because of the new threat to our society, our lives, I feel the need to leave my account of the last two and a half years. I’m documenting it so if—when—I die, others who might find this journal will know what happened. The real story. So they can prepare themselves for when it happens again. Because it will. Of that I am certain.

I was seventeen when the virus hit, killing everyone. Men. Women. Rich. Poor. Young. Old. It didn’t care.

Once a person showed symptoms—fever, bluish spots that looked like pimples on the tongue and gums, pronounced blue veins on the arms and legs that looked like a road map, a red rash on the body, uncontrollable tremors, vomiting blood—they were already dead. There was nothing doctors could do for them. The virus was one hundred-percent fatal.

The news was filled with images of mass graves and huge pyres of burning bodies. The clean, salty scent of the ocean that normally blanketed my costal town was replaced with the stench of burning flesh. It burned the back of my throat like I’d just taken a swig of one-hundred proof whiskey. My eyes filled with tears when I went outdoors. I’m not sure if it was from the smoke that seemed to hover over our town like it was swallowing us whole, or if I was crying. Maybe both.

Scientists scrambled to find a cure or a vaccine. They came up empty. The human race was running out of time. With each tick of the clock the virus killed hundreds, and there wasn’t anything anyone could do to stop it.

When it was obvious no cure would be found, the government announced the opening of the Populace Obliteration Defense system, or the PODs. The POD system was viewed as our salvation in a time of death and destruction. Put in place years before in case of an extinction level event, such as a meteor or asteroid strike, or a nuclear war, the underground habitat was civilization’s only hope of survival. Unfortunately, there wasn’t enough room for everyone, so the government held a raffle.

I won, so I lived. Others lost, and the world lost them.

Everyone selected for the PODs had to leave someone behind. I lost my parents. I said goodbye with the crushing knowledge I’d never see them again. I left them to die. That haunts me every day. It’s an ever present knife that twists in my heart, leaving an open wound that festers and never heals.

I lived in the PODs with the other Chosen and waited for the virus to kill the people left above. The theory was, when all the living hosts were dead, the virus would die too.

When scientists finally determined it was safe for us to exit the PODs, we were surprised to find survivors—Topsiders. People who were able to isolate themselves well enough to avoid infection.

Oh, and the virus. It survived, too.

It mutated and lay dormant waiting patiently for hosts, almost as if it knew we were hiding, and if it waited long enough we’d come out.

When the PODs were opened and topside survivors came out of isolation, we were like a living, breathing smorgasbord for the virus, and it began its deadly rampage a second time.

But it didn’t just kill like the strain before it had. The mutated virus created monsters—living zombies. People without any thought except to hunt and feed and they fed on anything living, including other people. But worse, if a victim survived an attack by an infected person, they were infected by their bite.

Being infected was worse than becoming dinner.

When it was discovered the virus hadn’t died, but lain dormant waiting for new hosts, the villages were closed to keep the infection rate as low as possible. The military patrolled the streets, villages were turned into military compounds, districts were forbidden contact with one another, and curfews were put in place.

Fences were constructed to keep nonresidents out and keep residents from wandering outside the compound into the Infected Zone. Topsiders weren’t allowed into the compounds, even if they weren’t infected.

And POD survivors didn’t automatically get into the compounds, either. Once a POD survivor left their assigned area, they were considered a danger to others and weren’t allowed back. Period. I know. I left my compound. I fought the Infected. I saw what the virus did and it scared the shit out of me. A person is never the same after seeing something like that. After living through that. After killing to survive.

I lost all sense of time. Days, weeks, months—I couldn’t worry about that. I had more important things to think about, like staying alive. So I can’t tell you how long we fought before an immunization was developed.

But after the immunization, more than six months went by without a report of a new infection. People started to heal, create normal lives. It felt like living in Utopia. There was no crime, there was no unemployment, no one went hungry and no one was homeless. People worked together, played together, genuinely cared for each other. Maybe it was a side-effect of surviving something that nearly wiped out the human race—it made us more humane.

And now? Well, now is a different story altogether. We thought it was over. We thought it was gone. That we’d beaten it.

We were wrong.

It stood beside the red brick wall of the medical center and watched me. Goose bumps pricked my skin. I’d never seen it before and there was something… off about it. It hid in the long shadows cast from the building and the giant willow that grew next to it. Its eyes glowed eerie amber.

That’s creepy. I’ve been reading too many horror novels.

Three men in protective clothing rushed out of the medical center’s door. They grabbed it and pulled it to the back of the building. It growled and snarled at them, twisting its body to get free of their grip. It took all three men to carry it. A soldier with a rifle slung over his shoulder followed a safe distance behind.

They’d just rounded the corner, out of my sight, when a thunderous bang echoed through the small town square, sending birds flying, and drawing the attention of the few people walking by.

I jumped and looked toward the sound. I’d been around guns enough in the last two years to know the sound of one. I gripped the books I carried tighter to my chest, and turned to leave. With a gasp, I stopped short. A second animal blocked my path, the same amber eyes watching me. I didn’t dare move. I barely took a breath.

The eyes looked the same as the first, but green pus oozed from the sides. Its top lip pulled across its yellowing teeth in a snarl, saliva dripping from its mouth in long, sticky strings.

It took a step toward me. The hairs on my arms stood on end and blood thundered behind my ears, making it almost impossible to hear the quiet voice that came from my right.

Stay still, he said.

I quickly peeked out of my peripheral vision to see the officer at my side, his gun drawn.

No, I don’t want to stand here! Shoot it! But I didn’t dare voice my thoughts. The animal didn’t look like it wanted to chat.

Every beat of my heart filled my blood with adrenaline. My hands were slick with sweat, and beads slithered down my spine. Everything in me screamed, run! I forced my feet to stay still.

What are you waiting for? Shoot it!

The animal took another step toward me, and crouched low to the ground. The black and gray fur along the ridge of its back stood on end in warning.

You’re pissing me off. Shoot the stupid dog already before it mauls me in the middle of town square.

The dog leapt. I raised the books I held to block its attack. And the officer finally decided to shoot the damn thing.

The body hit the ground with a thud and skidded across the pale stone piazza, leaving a gruesome, dark red trail behind. Gagging and still shaking, I turned away, squeezing my eyes closed.

Eva! Are you okay?

I jumped at the sound of his deep voice, and opened my eyes. Yeah, Devlin, I’m fine now that he, I jerked my head toward the deputy, finally decided to shoot the darn dog before it gnawed my appendages off. I peered around Devlin’s six-foot, four-inch frame to get another peek at the gnarly looking dog. What’s the matter with it anyway?

He looked over his shoulder. I don’t know. Listen, I get off in five minutes. Hang around? I’ll walk you home.

That’s okay. I’m fine, and it’s out of your way to walk me.

Devlin lived in the Medical District where he was a med student at the medical clinic, the closest thing we had to a hospital. I lived on the other side of the village in the Education District where I taught English at the public, well, the only school.

No, I want to make sure you get home all right. Just wait here. I’ll grab my stuff and be right back.

I started to tell him no, but the dog creeped me out, and I did kind of want someone to walk with me. So I nodded.

I sat on a bench near the small water fountain in the center of the small town square, waiting for Devlin. The fountain sat dry and unused because of water conservation laws, but I still loved sitting by it. It had been turned into a giant flower bed. Thanks to the earth science class at the school and the ladies’ auxiliary, it was always beautifully kept.

The fountain was made out of granite or marble, something like that. I didn’t know. I just liked the sculpture of a little boy and girl holding hands with an umbrella over their heads. The little girl had a look of glee on her face and I could almost hear her giggles. She held her hand out and on the tip of her fingers was a butterfly.

I gazed at the fountain and the colorful fall mums planted around it, when two men in green scrubs and yellow rubber gloves up to their elbows walked by. They carried the dead dog on a gurney. What’s wrong with it? I called.

Rabies.

That doesn’t look like rabies. Of course, I really wouldn’t know.

It wouldn’t be long before I learned it was something much deadlier… and so was the dog.

Devlin and I were quiet during the walk to my house. He was David’s friend, really. I hadn’t had much opportunity, or reason, to spend time with him. Now that David and I weren’t together, I really didn’t understand why Devlin felt the need to walk me home.

Have you seen David? I looked up at Devlin. He glanced at me, and a lock of ink black hair fell over his forehead. It made his green eyes, framed by long black lashes, seem to snap with intensity. Or maybe it was my mention of David.

A slight frown pulled at his lips. Yes.

Is he… I mean… I blew out a breath. How is he?

Don’t you see him at school?

I shook my head slowly. Um, no. He teaches in the science wing. It’s on a different side of the building than where I teach. We rarely see each other. I shrugged a shoulder. I suppose that’s a good thing.

Devlin ran the side of his hand over his jaw. Yes, I suppose it is since you dumped him.

Ouch. And that’s not true.

Whatever. Devlin swatted his hand in the air like my words were inconsequential. He’s hurting, Eva, is that what you want me to tell you? Devlin looked over the expanse of the village park—everywhere but at me.

I shook my head and swallowed down the large lump in my throat. No, actually, I was hoping you would tell me he was moving on. It’s been six months. I thought maybe he’d meet someone by now. I don’t know. Date or something. Believe it or not, this isn’t what I wanted—

Yeah, yeah.

You know, he was the one who wanted… I sighed and squeezed my eyes closed. Thanks for walking me, but I’m okay from here. I stopped and turned to him. The late afternoon sunlight gave his black hair an almost blue tint. It was so glossy it looked like glass.

Devlin ran his hand over the back of his neck and cursed. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be an ass. David’s my friend. And you’re…

I raised my eyebrows when he didn’t finish. What? The bitch that broke his heart?

"Don’t do this, David. Don’t make me choose."

"I didn’t think there’d be a choice to make."

"I just need some time."

"Yeah, well, I don’t. I want an answer now." David’s face was set in hard lines. I’d never seen his expression turn so dark.

I knew my reaction hurt him, and that was the last thing I wanted. I loved him with everything in me, but I just wanted… I don’t know what.

"I love you. But if you are going to force me to decide now, the answer has to be no."

Devlin’s voice pulled me back to the present. Well, yeah, but that’s not what I was going to say. A small grin touched his lips.

I looked to the side and drummed my fingers against my leg. Okay, what? I’m what?

You’re you.

I felt a smile pull at my lips. Wow, very deep. I think you’ve been sniffing the alcohol wipes at the clinic.

Devlin chuckled. Maybe. C’mon, I’ll walk you the rest of the way home.

Did you hear about Kelly?

No. What about her? I asked Joan, glancing up from the junk I was flipping through from my inbox. The school’s guidance counselor was a short, plump woman, who wore black horned-rimmed reading glasses, and her bottled-red hair teased on top of her head. I always thought if we’d still had televisions she’d have made a great commercial for hair dye and hairspray. Everyone at the school had bets on what her real hair color was. The supply of hair dye would run out at some point, and she’d be forced to show her true color.

Her husband died, Joan answered, pulling my thoughts away from the question of her hair’s true identity.

Oh, no! What happened?

Kelly taught at the school. She’d been a POD survivor. Her husband John was a Topsider.

He was attacked by an animal while hunting. He’d developed an infection in the wounds and never recovered, Joan answered as she unlocked the door to her office and pushed it open.

The major problem we had in our utopian-like villages, was very rudimentary medical care. If someone got the flu, or broke bone, chances were good the doctors at the medical clinic could patch them up and they’d be fine. Even simple procedures, like appendicitis, were okay. But anything more advanced, like a heart attack, a broken back, and the more serious illnesses were a crap shoot. Sometimes a person could get treated and be fine. Other times, well, it was just better not to get sick.

Often times, if they were able, a person who was seriously ill would make the journey to the north-eastern village—Area-One. The non-raffle doctors and scientists were located there, so medical care was more advanced. Most of the people remaining alive after the virus, were the result of topside survivors or raffle winners. But leaders in the medical and scientific fields were selected without using the raffle. They were who you wanted to care for you, but you had to get to them, and the journey was long and arduous. Most people couldn’t make it, especially the sick or injured.

I can’t believe… I mean… I squeezed my eyes closed, and shook my head slowly. Poor Kelly.

I didn’t know why, but I felt something was wrong—more than just the horrible death of Kelly’s husband. I’d always felt like our perfect community was just a little too perfect. Like it was a precariously balanced house of cards and the slightest ripple in the breeze would topple it, and our peaceful existence would shatter like fine porcelain smashing against pavement.

Have you seen David? Tiffany looked at me across her kitchen table. The sun filtered through her pale, blonde hair, grazing her shoulders.

No. I picked up one of Tiffany’s daughter’s crayons and doodled on an open coloring book.

Mine. Faith’s chubby fingers grabbed the crayon from my hand.

Faith, say please, Tiffany said before turning her blue eyed lasers on me. And? Are you planning to?

Peas! Faith shouted and scribbled on her paper.

I smiled and made a goofy face at Faith. I don’t know.

Tiffany turned her glass around in circles on the table, staring at it. Eva, he’s such a great—

Oh, please, not this conversation again.

I know, Tiff. We just couldn’t—or wouldn’t—give each other what we needed.

Six months earlier…

I sat on the side of my cot and rolled my head from side to side. My pillow was as thick as a piece of cardboard. The mattress wasn’t much better. I could feel every metal bar in the narrow cot.

Arching my back, I stretched my arms above my head to work out the kinks. I twisted to one side and then the other. That’s when I saw him. He sat on his bed, watching me, a ghost of a grin played on his full lips. I smiled and gave him a small wave.

Getting up, I moved my desk chair to the glass wall separating our observation rooms and sat. David did the same. He held up five fingers and mouthed, five days left.

A huge smile spread across my face, and I felt a flutter deep in my stomach. I nodded. Can’t wait, I mouthed back.

Over the six weeks in quarantine we’d gotten pretty good at communicating using hand signals and reading lips. We saved our notepads for more complex conversations. So I felt a twinge of something in my chest when David picked up his notepad and held it flat against the glass.

I have a surprise for you, it read.

I tilted my head and found a tiny spot in my nearly full notepad, and wrote: Really? What is it?

Well… I can’t tell you or it wouldn’t be a surprise. He pursed his lips to keep from grinning. He lost the battle and his mouth turned up at the corners, pulling his lips over his straight, white teeth.

I gave him my best you-better-tell-me-now-glare.

I saw him laugh and wished for the millionth time since we’d been confined to quarantine that I could hear him. It was a deep, rich sound, unrestrained and contagious. It’d seemed like an eternity since I’d heard it, and I missed it. I missed him. His feel, his warmth, his sounds, touch, taste.

I let my eyes soak him in as I watched him scribble a note. My gaze roamed over his face. His mouth held a slight smile. The tip of his tongue moved over his bottom lip, a little fuller than the top, with a freckle at the left corner—it was the first place my mouth was going when our time in quarantine ended.

Then I read his note, and my stomach dropped to my toes, and the words swirled on the paper like water going down the drain.

Okay, let’s just say it involves a white dress and a church.

A wedding? I wrote.

He nodded, still smiling. A bit of mischief played in his gray eyes.

Whose?

David looked at me and lifted a brow. Ours. Who else?

Ours? I could barely write the word, my hand shook so badly.

Yeah. Ours, he mouthed, a strange expression on his face.

I licked my lips and tilted my head to the side as I wrote: Um, when?

David scribbled his answer in his notepad, while my insides twisted. We bust out of here Friday and I’ve got it all planned for Sunday. Well, I had some outside help with the planning. But everything is all set. Dress, flowers, minister. I asked Tiff to stand up with you. Devlin is standing up with me. The only thing we don’t have are the rings, but we’ll get those later.

I read, then reread his note. My heart dropped to my stomach, and then bungeed into my throat. I could feel it bouncing up and down between my stomach and throat, stealing my breath.

What’s the matter? His skin creased between his brows.

My hand shook when I wrote: I just wasn’t expecting this. I didn’t think we’d do it so soon. I thought we talked about waiting awhile?

Why? There were questions floating in the silvery depths of his eyes and a vulnerability that I wasn’t used to seeing. A lock of hair fell over his forehead. I forgot where I was and reached out to smooth it back. My hand hit the glass and I flattened it against it. David placed his on the glass over mine. His notepad next to our hands. I asked you. You said yes. What’s the deal? It read.

I watched his face as he read my note. There’s no ‘deal,’ David. I just thought we decided to wait a few weeks before we got married… not the second we got out of quarantine.

Throwing up the hand that held his notepad, it fell and smacked his thigh. He turned his back to me, and ran his other hand over the back of his neck.

A few seconds ticked by before he scribbled another note. He turned and slammed it against the glass. I jumped and my gaze locked with his stormy eyes. Gone was the sparkling silvery-gray. It was replaced with swirling, dark steel. He tipped his head at the notepad.

Do you love me?

My head jerked up and I pressed against the glass. Yes, I said out loud. Yes. I knew he couldn’t hear me, but he’d know what I said. I love you.

Then marry me Sunday, he wrote.

I slipped away from the glass and looked at the floor like I’d find the answer there. I wanted to marry David. I did. I’d never wanted anything more. But it was too soon. We both needed time to live a normal life. We’d discussed it and agreed. Now he was changing the rules, and it confused and angered me.

I’m going to marry you. But not Sunday. We need time to be normal, David. We talked about this and agreed. Remember when we were in the PODs and you told me you wanted to take me on real dates? What happened to that? Six months. That’s all. Six months to be normal—as normal as we can be, anyway. Six months and then we’ll get married.

He stood and turned his back to me, tossing his notepad across the room. I banged on the glass to get his attention. He couldn’t hear me. But still, I pounded and screamed his name.

David dropped on his bunk. He leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees, his hands hung between them. His head and shoulders sagged forward, like his spine was made of Jell-O and he couldn’t hold himself up.

I’m not sure how long we stayed like that, him on his bunk and me pressed against the glass watching him. Finally David stood, swiped his notepad off the floor, and stalked to the glass wall. He wrote on his notepad. When he was finished, he held it up. I felt his eyes burn into me as I read it: I’m not waiting six months. Sunday or not at all.

I felt the color drain from my face. The words slammed into me, knocking my breath from my lungs. The only sound I heard was the blood rushing behind my ears, which was odd because I was almost certain my heart had stopped beating.

Don’t do this. Don’t make me choose. We have plans. Plans we made together. Please don’t change the rules like this. I put my hand on the glass that separated us. He didn’t put his hand over mine like he always had.

I didn’t think there’d be a choice to make, he wrote.

We need time to be normal people, I answered, searching his face as he read my note. He shook his head once, his jaw working. My mouth went dry. It felt like I’d inhaled all the sand of the Sahara desert, making my tongue thick, my throat swollen.

Yeah, well, I don’t. I want an answer now. David’s face was set in hard lines. I’d never seen his expression so dark.

Hot tears stung my face like acid. I love you. Don’t make me choose.

I need you to make a choice now, he pressed.

David, you know I love you. I can’t say it any other way. Please don’t force me to make a decision now. Let’s wait until we’re out of here so we can talk. When we don’t have to write everything on damn notepads.

The strokes of his pencil lead were hard, angry. If you love me the choice should be easy.

I’d looked at him, his face blurred and watery from the tears drowning my eyes. I love you. I’ll always love you. But if you loved me, you wouldn’t change the rules, David. It makes me uneasy wondering how many other changes you’ll make without talking to me. If you are going to force me to give you an answer now, the answer is no, I wrote. My breath stopped. It felt like a hand squeezed my throat shut. Tears, gigantic, eye stinging, face drowning, tears pushed out of my eyes.

I wanted him to say something. Anything but what he wrote next…

Then we’re done.

He turned his back to me after I read it. He didn’t write another note or acknowledge me for the rest of our time in quarantine. And when we were released, he left without a word.

Tiffany slapped the table and pulled me away from the crushing memories of that day. Hey! Where were you?

Sorry. I shook my head to clear it. Just haunted by old memories.

She gave me a knowing look. When we were in the PODs together, you two were so happy. So in love.

I nodded, not looking at her.

You know, it’s usually the guy that’s scared of commitment, she teased. You said you wanted to date, but you sit around every weekend grading papers or reading. You aren’t dating any more than he is.

I said I wanted to date him. I never said I wanted to date like I was going to go pick-up some strange guy at the damn bar. I wanted to date him. Just David.

"Geez, Eva. Can’t you see? I’m sorry that our living arrangement isn’t different. That I can’t take you out on a real date," David had told me one day in the POD.

I ran my fingers through my hair and fisted, pulling the blonde strands until my scalp burned. I thought, maybe if I squeezed hard enough, long enough, made it hurt enough, it would erase the memories. It never worked. I didn’t want to date anyone else. I thought we needed a few months to be normal. To go on dates together like normal people. To get to plan our wedding together. I dropped my hands and looked at Tiffany. She spun a green crayon in circles on the table.

Don’t get me wrong, Tiff. I love what you guys did and I love that you did it for me. But most girls dream about their wedding and I would have liked to have gotten to plan some of it, too.

Tiff looked at me and smiled. I know. I told David that, but he was… insistent.

I smiled. He can be that.

She cocked her head to the side and looked at me. You still love him?

Yes. I didn’t hesitate.

If being in physical pain because we walked away from each other so easily. If feeling like someone reached into my chest and pulled out my heart because we were too stupid—too stubborn—to give each other what we needed, is a sign of love, then I was drowning in love for David. Because my heart ached every time I thought of him. And that’s exactly why I couldn’t be with him. He had the power to soothe my pain, make it go away, make me happier than anyone else. Or the power to kick me in the gut and rip me to shreds.

So far I was shredded.

That one question, that one day, that one answer stuck a knife in my heart, ripped my very soul in two, and it twisted every time I saw him, heard his voice, heard his name.

It’s not too late to work through this, you know. Tiff reached over and squeezed my hand.

I nodded but didn’t answer. I wasn’t sure what there was to work through—if there was anything that David and I wanted to work through. He hurt me by giving me an impossible ultimatum and I hurt him by not agreeing.

The back door opened and Tiffany’s husband, George, pulled himself into the house, ending our conversation. Hey, Eva, he said with a half-smile. He bent and kissed Tiffany.

I sighed with relief. Tiff was my best friend and I knew she meant well, but I just didn’t want to talk about my relationship—or lack of—with David. I didn’t want to think about it. Because every time I did, I relived that day in quarantine and the pain that came with it. I felt like I walked around with my head in a plastic bag. Every day it closed a little more, cutting off my oxygen, suffocating me.

Hey, George. Pull another all-nighter at the clinic? George looked tired. His face pinched, his eyes sunken and dull. Even his many tattoos seemed less vibrant than normal. The only thing still showing signs of life was his military buzz cut, but even that was a little limp.

Yeah. These twelve hour shifts are killing me.

Just wait until the baby comes and is keeping you up all night. I grinned.

He dropped onto a chair. Ugh, who invited you over anyway?

Your lovely wife did.

Yeah, well, she’s impaired by pregnancy hormones. She can’t be held responsible for her actions.

Oh really? I rolled my eyes and laughed. Well, I’m outta here.

Life in the fast lane, huh? George raised a pierced eyebrow at me.

Hardly. More like a life that’s stalled on the side of the road watching the cars zoom by.

Yeah, I have papers to grade and students to torture.

George groaned in relief when he kicked his shoes off. Grading papers on a Saturday? You’re turning into an old lady.

Yeah, nineteen, I feel so old. See you two lovebirds later. I bent down and dropped a kiss on top of Faith’s head.

See you soon, Tiff called. I turned and waved before pushing through the door.

Two weeks after Kelly's husband died from an animal attack, two hunters went missing. Search parties were formed to look for the hunters.

You and David are going? I volunteered at the check-in station. I wrote Devlin’s name down and handed him a packet of information.

He stood with his hip leaning against the table and one thumb hooked through a belt loop on his jeans. Yeah. Have you seen him?

Devlin and David worked well together. Best friends, they’d been through Hell and back. Devlin was a Topsider. When the PODs were opened, residents were shuttled off to their assigned villages. David and I were separated. So he left his village in search of mine. That’s when he ran into Devlin and the rest of his camp. They were all Topsiders, wandering from location to location looking for their families, and slowly making their way west to a rumored compound that admitted Topsiders.

David tagged along and he and Devlin became fast friends. They fought the Infected together, and learned to trust each other with their lives. They built a level of trust most people never reached with another person.

I shook my head. Not yet. This is where the hunters were last seen. I bent my head and pointed to a map taped to a table. "This is the area you are assigned