Side Effects: Book Two: Visions of Despair Page 2
“Are you good, Mitch?” Kyle asked, giving him a hard stare. “I trust you, man. You had better not be putting these kids at risk,” he finished as he opened the door.
“I’m just here to get my son, Kyle. How is it in here? Where are the kids?” he asked, noting the blood spattered on Kyle’s uniform.
“There was an incident with one of the kitchen staff. Fred and I took care of it, but it was messed up, man. I don’t know what the plan is. I’m having a hard time staying here. I know that these kids need looking after, but I have a family at home too, you know?” Kyle finished, looking pale and shaking his head.
“Where are they at?” Mitch asked again, knowing where Kyle’s head must be because his was in the same place. These first few hours were crucial. From what he had seen on the news, this thing was going to spread fast. They needed to get out of town. Immediately.
“They called them all down to the gym, but I don’t think all of the classrooms made it. Fred went down to check," Kyle said, glancing down the hall just as a collective scream reverberated from the other end.
“Shit!” Mitch yelled, running toward the art room, where he knew his son spent his first period. When he neared the class, he could hear chairs hitting the floor and the screams of terrified children. He drew his gun and released the safety. He glanced up at Kyle who gave a small nod, understanding that this was necessary. Mitch stepped forward and opened the door. What he saw inside was impossible to believe, but clearly undeniable.
Ms. Coleman--Angie--a woman that he had gone out for drinks with on more than one occasion--a lady whose laugh was like tinkling glass; light and delicate--was gripping a girl around the waist and tearing a vicious bite from her plump cheek. Mitch recognized the girl as having gone to school with Micah since kindergarten. He thought her name was Casey. Her high, piercing scream caught Mitch, leaving him temporarily frozen in place and unable to look away.
Mitch had seen a lot in his life as a Navy SEAL. He thought he had seen the worst sides of humanity: men who enjoyed torturing innocent people and men who seemed to have been born without souls. He once saw a man light his own family on fire because his wife had cheated on him. But he had never in all of his days seen anything as truly terrifying or evil as this. This was not human.
His eyes locked on Angie’s and a chill raced up his spine. She winked at him before taking another bite out of the young girl who had begun to go limp in her arms. She wasn’t mindless like the zombies he had seen in the movies. She seemed to be enjoying what she was doing.
He sprang into action, entering the room as his eyes searched frantically for his son. He spotted him at the back of the room. The boy had managed to pry the chopping blade off of an old paper cutter and was holding the makeshift weapon out in front of himself and his best friend, Joe. Several of the other students from the class were also huddled behind him.
“Shit!” Mitch growled when his eyes landed on Fred lying face down in the center of the room. His arm, ripped from its socket, was a few yards in front of him with an axe still gripped in his fingers. His torso was bleeding profusely.
Mitch jumped like a scared child when the man began to stir. Three other children were scattered around him on the floor. They had all been bitten.
Micah glanced over toward the door. “Dad, I knew you would come,” he yelled, looking more terrified than Mitch had ever seen him.
Mitch gave a nod as he stepped further into the classroom and took aim at Ms. Coleman. He was spot on and she dropped to the floor in a heap at Casey’s feet. The girl looked down at the body and then back up at him with her big doe eyes full of fear and shock. But there was something else, too--a look of resignation. He took a deep breath to steady himself and raised the weapon again. Silently cursing, he pulled the trigger and the girl fell beside her teacher.
There couldn’t be a more fucked up nightmare, he thought to himself as the screams of terror were replaced by an eerie silence that filled the air with a heavy foreboding. He knew that it would only get worse before they made it out of there.
He turned to face Micah and the other kids that were still standing behind him. “Are you okay?” he asked his son. Micah gave a slight nod, his eyes fixed to the left where one of his buddies was beginning to get back up from his spot on the floor, he was missing most of one leg as well as half of his face. Mitch’s stomach turned at the sight of the child, and he couldn’t help but think how different things would be if he had been ten minutes earlier.
“What’s happening, Dad?” Micah asked, hysterical, his voice breaking in the middle of the question.
“The world is ending,” Mitch answered truthfully. This was the shit that PTSD was made of. He tucked his gun back into his holster and pulled out his knife. He didn’t want to fire anymore rounds in here.
Carefully, he walked over to Fred and buried his knife in his skull just as the man began to get back up. Satisfied that he wouldn’t be getting up again, he made his way to the children that were still lying on the floor and, one-by-one, eliminated each threat.
Finished, he scanned the room. The remaining students now looked more frightened of him than they had been of Ms. Coleman. He suddenly felt like a monster, although he knew he’d had no choice.
“What are you doing, Dad?” Micah asked, confused and horrified.
“It’s some kind of virus, Micah. If I didn’t do this then they would have come back and attacked others just like Ms. Coleman did," Mitch explained gravely.
“Ms. Coleman didn’t get bit by anyone, though. One minute she was fine and then she just got this weird look, and she grabbed Tyler and bit him. It was crazy, Dad!” Micah told him.
As Micah was telling Mitch what had happened, Joe stepped out from behind his friend. “Mitch, I don’t want to turn into a monster,” he said with tears in his eyes as he pulled up the sleeve of his shirt. “She bit me, too,” he added with a shaky breath.
This nightmare just keeps getting worse, Mitch thought, shaking his head.
“It’s not the same,” Micah protested, pulling Joe’s sleeve back down. “You’ll be fine,” he told his best friend.
“It is though, Micah. I don’t want to hurt anyone. I don’t want to become a killer," Joe countered with a determined look on his innocent young face.
“You can fix it. Right, Dad? Tell him you can fix it,” Micah said to his dad on the verge of tears, his voice cracking.
“I’m sorry, son. This is something that I can’t fix," Mitch replied, fighting tears of his own. He knew what was coming next and he dreaded it. He had watched Joe grow from a shaky toddler who could barely stand, to the confident young man who stood bravely before him now.
“What do you mean? You have to fix it--you have to!!” Micah screamed, the tears flowing freely now as he punched his fists into his dad’s solid form.
Mitch wrapped his arms around his son in a bear hug and held him tightly for a moment, wondering how he could possibly muster the strength to carry out what he needed to do. When he looked up, he saw Mike standing in the doorway taking in the scene, his face impassive. Kyle was cowering in the hallway behind him.
“I heard the shots. Kate thought you might need a hand and you know how convincing she can be. It wasn’t really a choice,” Mike said, his voice even, with a nod in his friend’s direction.
“Take Micah to the Humvee. I’ll be out in a few minutes,” Mitch said, passing his son off to his oldest friend.
Mike gave a second nod of understanding, picked Micah up with ease, and carried him out of the room.
“You can’t do this, Dad, you can’t! I hate you! I hate you!” Micah screamed all the way out of the classroom.
Once they were out of the room, Mitch took a moment to clear his thoughts. This was about as bad as it could get. Joe was like family. He could have just as easily been Mitch’s own son. He looked up at the remaining students huddling together at the back of the room. He would need to clear them out of here.
“Alright, Kyle, why d
on’t you take them all down to the gym. They’ll be safer with the others,” he said, addressing Kyle while keeping his hands firmly planted on Joe’s shoulders.
“Okay, Mitch, but then I’m loading the bus and taking anyone who wants a ride home, because I can’t wait around here. I need to get home to my family," Kyle finished with a note of certainty that had been missing until now. Mitch nodded in understanding. He would probably do the same in Kyle’s situation.
Joe reached up and gave his hand a reassuring squeeze. “Don’t worry, Mitch. I don’t hate you. I’m glad you got here before I turned into one of them,” he said, nodding in the direction of the changed ones.
“Can you give me a few minutes to write a couple of letters before we do this?” Joe asked, his voice quivering as he fought the tears that were welling up in his eyes.
“Oh, Joe, you take all the time that you need, son,” Mitch said, pulling him in for a tight embrace. “I love you like you were one of my own,” he finished, placing a kiss on top of the boy’s head, his voice equally unsteady.
“I love you, too,” Joe said as he walked to his backpack and found the supplies that he would need to write his letters.
When he finished with his writing, Joe brought the letters back to Mitch. “I don’t know if you’ll be able to get this to my Mom, but this one’s for Micah. Maybe wait a bit before you give it to him. I don’t think it’ll help right now," Joe said, giving Mitch a lopsided grin.
“Yeah. He was pretty upset," Mitch agreed.
“We all know how stubborn and pigheaded he can be," Joe said with a shaky laugh.
“Are you sure about this, Joe?” Mitch asked, pulling his gun back out.
“I’m sure I don’t want to eat my friends, Mitch. That’s about the only thing I’m sure of right now,” the boy answered, his whole-body trembling.
“Ah, Joe, you are such a brave and wonderful kid. You know that, right?” Mitch said, walking around behind him.
“Uh huh,” he answered, squeezing his eyes shut tightly.
“Try to picture that beautiful mom of yours, okay? Think about her wrapping you in a big hug and singing a sweet song in your ear,” Mitch whispered, giving the boy another quick kiss on his blonde head.
He stood back up, took a ragged breath, and did the absolute hardest thing he had ever had to do in his thirty-nine years on this earth.
Chapter Three
Mitch
Mitch finished the story and sat in silence for a moment before raising his head to face his daughter. The telling was almost as hard as the act itself had been. Almost.
“Oh, Daddy, I’m so sorry you had to go through that. No wonder Micah is so upset. It’s not your fault though, Dad. You must know that right?” Emily said with tears streaming down her face.
“I know, Em, doesn’t make it any easier, though," he replied, shaking his head.
“No, I guess it wouldn’t."
They sat together, but alone with their thoughts, as they waited for Micah to regain consciousness. Mitch glanced at his watch. It was close to six. Kate would be serving dinner soon.
“Why don’t you head out to the kitchen and get some dinner. I’ll wait here for him to wake up," he told his daughter.
“Are you sure?” she asked, subconsciously pushing each of her hands against the back of her head. Mitch took in the sight of his daughter. Dark circles rimmed both of her tired eyes, and her back slumped as she perched on the edge of the old sofa. He hadn’t noticed how she was carrying herself until now, but it was obvious she was in some kind of physical pain in addition to all of the emotional turmoil.
“Are you okay, Em? You look like you’re in pain," he asked, getting up from his chair to walk over to where she sat.
“It’s been a really long week, Dad," she said with a long sigh, biting her bottom lip.
“What!?” he exclaimed. “You didn’t have any business going out there with me tonight, then. Jesus, Em, you could have been killed. What were you thinking?”
“I wasn’t. And if I hadn’t gone, you’d both be dead, so get over it, Dad. It’s a different world we live in now. You don’t get to make the rules anymore. They’ve already been decided for us," she said, straightening her shoulders as she faced him squarely with a hard glare.
He sat quietly for a moment, letting her words sink in. His gut told him she was right. If he had gone out alone, he and Micah would both be flesh eaters by now, and a danger to everyone they loved. But his heart wasn’t okay with his girl putting herself in that kind of danger while suffering the effects of a concussion. “You’re right, but if I had known about your injury I could have taken Mike. You have to use your head, Em, you can’t always think with your heart."
“Seems to me that my heart knew what it was talking about, Dad," she answered, suddenly standing. “I’m going to go see what’s for dinner. Try and relax, I’ll be back soon."
“Save me a plate," he called after her.
Once she had gone, he walked back over to the chair beside Micah. He hesitated for a moment before taking his seat. He really didn’t know what to think about Micah’s condition. There had been a moment tonight, while he was trying to save his son, that he was sure he wouldn’t be able to. He could see it in the coloring around his wound and the dead look of his flesh; not like it was dying, but rather as if it belonged on a corpse that had been sitting in a morgue for a week or two. And then, miraculously, this little boy walked in and changed the course of fate.
Mitch thought of a recurring dream he sometimes had. The dream always felt so real that it was easy to believe he lived there. That this was his life--this house with ever changing rooms and doors--his new reality, and his only task was to open each of the doors and see what was on the other side. Mitch yearned for that kind of peaceful bliss. Just open the door, walk through, admire the room and move on to the next one. He tried to focus on the dream; a simple relaxing exercise for his mind.
What was happening now left him with more questions than answers. Mitch had always been the guy that people went to for answers, but the reality he had right now was that there were none. And he needed them.
Just as the thought passed through his mind, the infirmary door opened and Emily’s little friend, Jimmy, walked through the door. Coincidence? He didn’t think so.
Jimmy offered him a small smile and a nod of his head as he walked over to the old sofa, taking a seat. Once he was comfortable, he looked up and said, “So, I heard you had some questions."
Mitch let a slight smile play over his own face even though this was all making him feel very uneasy. He didn’t know anything at all about this kid, except that he had power--a lot of it. In Mitch’s experience, men with power were often very dangerous. His experience did not, however, include four-year-old’s. His own children had been unpredictable and emotional at that age.
For the second time today, he let himself lock eyes with the young boy. He held the moment a little longer than necessary before giving the boy a response. “Who did you hear that from?”
Jimmy sat quietly with a confused look on his face. “From you, I guess. When I was walking by the room, I heard you say that you needed answers, so I came in to see if I could give you some," he said simply.
Mitch took this in and sat with it for a moment. “I didn’t say anything, though, Jimmy. Although, I do have plenty of questions."
Jimmy simply shrugged his shoulders and said, “I’m ready when you are."
“How did you know that your blood would save Micah?” Mitch asked the question that was most present in his mind.
“I didn’t. I still don’t. I hope it will, though. Sometimes I see things that are going to happen if we don’t do something to stop it. I saw us giving Micah the syrup and then his arm got better. He is still pretty sick, though. He’s going to have to start listening," Jimmy finished with a nod of his head.
“What do you mean?” Mitch asked, more confused and concerned than he had been before the boy started talking.
Mitch shook his head and tried to separate his thoughts. He was having so many right now that it was hard to settle on the important ones. “Well, I guess we'll just have to get him to listen then."
Jimmy gave him such a dirty look, you would have thought he said something offensive. “For being such a smart man, you can be pretty thick in the head sometimes," the boy said, causing an ardent laugh to escape Mitch’s mouth before he could stop it.
“Do you care to elaborate?” Mitch asked, trying to give Jimmy a stern look and failing miserably. It was hard to look at such a sweet little face with disdain. Mitch had the strange urge to get up and hug the boy, which caused another laugh to escape. He didn’t just hug other people’s kids. Especially those he barely knew.
Jimmy started shaking his head back and forth. “You can’t make him listen, Mitch. Not by telling him to, anyway. You should have realized this by now. It hasn’t worked yet, has it?” he asked, throwing his arms up in an exasperated sigh.
“No, it hasn’t," Mitch admitted.
“So, move on already. It’s time for a new plan. I think you might need to leave this up to someone else," Jimmy said.
It was Mitch’s turn to give Jimmy the dirty look. “You mean like Emily or Kate?” he asked.
“No, they’re too close. You know, Mitch, there are a lot of people in this house, each of them hurting in their own way. Don’t be so close minded. Maybe nursing Micah back to health can help someone else’s wounds heal,” Jimmy finished.
“Do you mean Juliette? I wouldn’t want to ask her. She is having such a hard time right now," Mitch said. Just the mention of the woman caused a reaction within him that he didn’t want to acknowledge.