The Infection

“Open up, Trudy.”

The door opened and Trudy Marston peered out at them and then past them, scanning the sidewalk and street beyond.

“Everything all right, Anne?”

“Right as rain,” Anne answered, resisting the urge to turn around to see what Trudy was looking at. “Listen, friend. I need you to watch my little ones while I go look for Big Tom at the park.”

Trudy opened the door further, exposing her haggard face. “Jesus, is he okay?”

Anne smiled grimly. “He won’t be after I get through with him.”

Her neighbor’s voice suddenly became shrill. “What was he thinking going out today?”

Anne blinked. “Never mind that. I need to bring him home. Can you watch my kids?”

“I’m sorry, I can’t. Hugo is in a bad way. He’s been stirring all morning, crying out in his coma. I got to keep a watch on him.”

“You know Hugo is in our prayers, Trudy. If he’s stirring around on his bed, that’s a good sign he’ll wake up soon. It’s not a coma anymore if he’s yelling in his sleep. Take it from me: You know I was a nurse before Peter came along. They’ll all wake up soon. We’re all hoping that.”

An expression of horror crossed Trudy’s face.

“You okay, Trudy?”

“Yes, I hope so, too,” the woman said, her voice tired and faded. “Anyhow, I got to keep a watch on him. I got to be ready when he wakes up.” She laughed harshly. “Even after everything, I just can’t leave him. Ain’t that a hoot?”

“Well, now you got three little helpers to help you watch. Right, helpers?”

“Yes, Mom,” Peter said, scowling skeptically at Trudy.

“This is not a good idea, Anne.”

“Come on, kids, get in there,” Anne said, hustling her children through the door. She stifled a cough; the house stank like sour milk. Her poor neighbor had really let herself go since Hugo fell down during the Screaming. “Trudy, fifteen minutes is all I ask.”

“Please…”

Anne looked up at the sky, almost laughing. Why was everybody being so unreasonable with her today? “Come on, the park is right over there. It’s a five-minute walk. I’ll be right back, I swear.”

People had a hard time refusing Anne Leary.

She power walked to the park, fueled by her fury at her husband for making her worry like this, and paused at the curb. If there were a couple of crazies lurking about, it might not be a good idea to run into them. She had a forceful personality and was a big talker, but she was physically small and hated violence. Talking tough could only get you so far and she could not back it up without Big Tom around. She surveyed the neatly manicured lawns and trees for any sign of friend or foe. For any sign of people at all. Wind rustled in the branches. The playground stood empty, the swings moving a little in the wind, as if haunted.

“Tom?” Anne said, hating how timid her voice sounded.

Where was everybody? Usually, there were a lot of people in the park on a beautiful day like today, even on a Monday, even after the Screaming screwed everything up.

She noticed a plume of smoke rising in the east. That was downtown. There was a big fire downtown. The sirens crowded in a little closer. As she moved into the trees, she heard a crackling sound. Of all things, she thought. Who would be lighting fireworks at a time like this?

“Tom!” she yelled, feeling bolder. “Tom!”

She crisscrossed the park repeatedly, searching for any sign and finding none. She did not wear a watch, setting her schedule by her routine alone. Fifteen minutes had blurred into an hour. The sirens only grew louder until, suddenly, she realized they weren’t there anymore. Everybody seemed to be lighting fireworks downtown. Time blurred again as her rage turned into panic. She felt the day slipping away from her.

“Tom, I’m sorry,” she cried, running blindly. “I’m sorry. Now come on out here!”

Anne stopped, sweating and panting. Her shoes were muddy, her pants scraped and torn. The sun hung low in the sky. The last sirens were petering out. She had a sense of some massive unseen battle being fought and lost. The crackling sound was everywhere now.

“I want my husband,” she said fiercely, spitting.

A horrible feeling overtook her, shooting through her like an urge to vomit, making her fall to her knees.

“Oh no,” she said, covering her mouth with her hands. “Oh, no no no no no no.”

Anne rose unsteadily to her feet and ran as fast as she could, wondering if she were too late. She finally arrived at Trudy’s door gasping for breath.

“Please,” she said, pounding on the door. “Please, God.”

Nobody came to open it.

She ran to the picture window and tried to peer in, but the sheer curtains obscured her view. A television was on, glowing in the dark interior. She pounded on the window until pain lanced through her hand, forcing her to quit. She briefly contemplated breaking the window and how she might accomplish this. Instead, she ran around to the back of the house feeling like she was about to scream. She had a sense of being out of control.

If somebody touched one hair on my kids’ heads—