Scourge

Chapter 3

There has to be some medicine in these cabinets. I go through them and empty the contents in the kitchen and bedroom cabinets. Nothing. The only place left is the bathroom. And then I find it. Expired Tylenol. It won't be as strong as advertised on the box, but it's better than nothing.

"Here take this. For the pain."

She takes them and swallows it before I can even check if the house still has running water. At least this place has some food. Stale, but edible. I take a bite of granola as she adjusts the bandages on her ankles. Frost kept looking me up and down like she was looking for something. Checking to see if I have sores. Then she leans back and huffs, almost like she's asking if I'm immune.

I nod and crumple the wrapper, tossing it into a random corner. I can't see her face because the lights don't work, but what little sunlight there was helps me see her body language. Distant. The silent treatment.

She hates me.

"I got lucky. Some people are just immune. Apparently due to some sort of genetic component."

"Oh well aren't you just perfect, Mr. Goody-Two Shoe. Let me guess, city boy who dabbled in martial arts, star quarterback and probably still a virgin. But you also remind me of someone who has a distant relative on a large farm. Stop me if I'm wrong."

Bullseye. Well, almost.

"Actually, the star volleyball captain. Grew up in Chicago, not the projects though. I may or may not know my way around a rifle, up for you to decide. If I wasn't visiting my uncle's farm learning how to shoot, I was in karate practice. "

The way she looks at me makes me want to burst open and spill my secrets to her. Frost sits back and turns away from me. She rolls her eyes but quickly winces again. She shuffles in the seat like she is trying to adjust something.

"What's wrong? "

She shakes her head but doesn't stop moving.

"Frost."

I move closer to her. She's crying, but I don't think it's from the virus. I went to grab her hand. She inhales sharply and pulls away.

"What? I'm not going to hurt you. Now, where does it hurt?"

She chokes down a sob and pulls away. I just want her to stop crying.

"You can't get me sick, Frost. I've already seen The Shelters."

I scoot closer to her and move her shoes out of the way. To be honest, they stink. But the smell of someone dying isn't necessarily pretty.

"Let me see."

She turns around and lifts her shirt halfway. I almost thought she was going to flash me, but something caught my eye. You don't need a lot of light, it's clear as day. Scars, and they aren't from sores. Long slash marks.

"You can put your shirt back on."

I almost don't want to know what happened. Almost.

"I'm not good at this, I don't know what to say. Did someone do that to you?"

She puts her shirt back down and sighs.

"I'm from Charlotte. Big city but small town living in the suburbs. When the virus first hit, I was away from home. I was a pain in the ass as a kid, ran away a lot. I was with my boyfriend at the time when I got word that my mom died. By the time I got home, dad and sis were gone. So I ran east. I figured that eventually I'd hit the beach. Water means marina, marina means boats. And boats mean freedom."

"Frost, that's a shit plan."

"Better than The Shelters. You know what's east of Charlotte?"

"Humor me."

She clenches her fists and rocks back and forth.

"Raleigh. Beautiful city, lots of crime. It's gang territory now. Do you know the starting rate for a teenage girl? Priceless."

I don't like where this is going.

"I don't know how long I was with them, you kinda lose track of the days after the beatings. Reused the same whip over and over again. But jokes on them, because I was infected long before they got me. One of my captors got infected. I thought he was going to kill me, but he said I wasn't worth all the energy it took to strangle me."

"Did they ever touch you?"

"Don't sugarcoat it. Rape?"

"Yeah."

"Well that depends on your definition of rape. Did they touch me there? Yeah, all the time. But with everything. Their hands, other objects, anything. But they never used their own junk."

The air is so tense right now that you can't slice it with a katana.

"I'm sorry, I really am."

"Hey, forget about it. You can't read my mind. I just overreacted."

It's late into the night when we finally decide to rest. The home has two bedrooms. I insisted she take the nicer one, but she was already tucking herself into the rock hard mattress of the tiny room.

"Try to rest."

"You too. Seriously, you look like crap."

I smile and pull her door close but leave a small crack.

I can't sleep. I'm not sure if it's because of the unfamiliar surroundings, or if it's because I haven't seen another normal person in months. At any point, she could decide she doesn't like me and kill me. And honestly? I'd let her do it. I haven't seen another teen since my escape from a shelter, and my need to trust someone overrode my survival instinct.

Late night became midnight, and the middle of the night turned into dawn. No sleep. I slowly peel myself off the bed to go check on Frost, but her bed is empty. The bedsheets are neatly tucked away and the pillows are lined up.

"Frost?"

There was a rumbling and clinking sound in the kitchen. I really wish I still had my rifle.

"Whoever's there, show yourself."

I turn the corner and find myself staring at the blade of a sharp serrated knife. Frost's hands grip the handle. It takes her a second to realize it's me, but she drops it and it clatters to the ground.

"You scared me! I called for you," she hisses.

"I'm sorry, I didn't hear you."

I still have my hands up. She looks concerned.

"Really, you scared me. I thought something happened."

"I'm fine," I lie.

She cocks her head.

"You didn't sleep."

When did she start caring about my wellbeing all of a sudden?