As long as there is love and memory, there is no true loss.
— Cassandra Clare
###
“Next.” An expressionless tone makes the queue get moving. I take my steps slightly, as the line is too narrow to move freely. People in light blue disposable lab coats, goggles protecting their eyes, and gloves on their hands. One comes to provide clothes and some hygiene items like toothbrushes, tubes of toothpaste, plastic cups, body towels, and some disposable underwear to the newcomers. I avoid wearing those disposable underwears because they’re itchy. I wouldn’t ask myself what I’d wear instead.
I sigh as I receive mine, then my eyes draw to the face of the dog, which is getting its eyes checked by a device. The device lights up green and emits a high-pitched dual tone that indicates the dog is safe and uninfected by the virus. What makes me wonder is how these science people already know the protocol against the virus. Which to me is quite too soon for them to discover that checking the eyes of a dog or even a human can tell them they have got the virus, though I thought a person could get the virus by getting bitten because that’s what all zombie movies and even books depict the origin or source of the infection. A bite. I don’t think it’s airborne or some molecules that dwell in your eyes and grow in the entire body and then turn the host into a zombie.
I think it’s more like venom. It rushes through your blood and veins and infects every living cell in you until it reaches your heart and your brain.
As the dog walks by me, the past reminds me again. It’s been two days and I still don’t find my happiness in this place. There’s a part of me that wants to go back outside and kill more bloodies. Part of me wants to find her zombified self. Yet, I know that it would have been avoided if it weren’t for that dog. She would still be alive if it weren’t for such an inferior creature.
“I’m hungry,” Alia whispers to Adam, who’s in front of me.
“Shh… we’ll find a way for that, don’t worry.” He whispers back, rubbing her shoulders.
Right. How does Alia eat? What will she eat? Did she mean she’s hungry for edible food or something else? Will she kill someone to treat her hunger?
Also, it’s almost my turn for the eye-checking device, but I see Alia how she looks at Adam, nervous about the result. I mean, she should be. Through that device, her secret will be entirely revealed. They’ll kick her out of the military base and leave her to starve out there, searching for human flesh. And when it’s her turn, Adam and I must do something to avoid that outcome. He looks at me like he’s asking for help, but I already know what to do. It may cause some trouble or not, but it’ll be worth it. They won’t find out either way.
Alia walks closer and closer to the eye-checker, and now her eyes are in front of the muzzle of the gun-looking device. My fist tightens as I wait for the perfect moment to cause some distraction. If that lights up red, it’ll be complete chaos. The device emits a laser-like light as it scans across Alia’s eyes. Adam’s breathing becomes louder, anxious about what color of light will pop up. He can’t blink an eye or else it’ll surprise him. He’ll miss the chance to distract them.
Then the light finally stops moving, and it turns green. We both sigh in relief. I pat him on his back and he smiles back.
“That was close,” I whisper to him.
He nods and takes his turn at the eye-checker. The three of us are the last ones on the team to make it out of that narrow tunnel, and all of us are negative for the virus.
###
The room is white. Endless white. It depicts nothingness. This is the same room I dreamt of before. I’m lying on a bed, which is a little odd. The last time I was standing, the room was completely empty, but right now, what makes it different is that there’s a bed and I’m lying on it on the left side. I turn over to see what’s behind me, and then I see her face.
Her beautiful, flawless face and her jet-black hair. I grin happily as I see her. “Hi,” I say. My morning voice makes the word sound a little deeper, cracking.
“Hi,” she smiles back, cupping my cheek with her soft little hand.
I tuck her hair behind her ear, then I cup her cheek with my hand as well. Tears run across my cheeks and stain the white sheet of my pillow. “I miss you. I miss you so much.”
She leans toward me and kisses my lips, then she rests her forehead on mine and whispers, “Shh… it’ll be okay.” Our eyes lock together for a long second until she lies on top of my arm, running her hand to my stomach. “It’ll be okay.”
I kiss her on the head, caressing her hair. I mumble again, “I miss you.”
She just looks up at me with her hazel brown eyes. Her thumb wipes out my tears. “How does it feel?”
Her question baffles me. “How does what feel?”
“Crying?”
I breathe out slightly. “It hurts,” I think. “Your eyes will make a lot of tears. Your chest will hurt. It’s like it’s your heart that’s crying. It teaches us about how fragile we humans are, and it’s our true nature. And it heals your wounds, they say. But even if I cried my heart out for hours, those wounds are still there. Maybe crying doesn’t work for me at all. I just cry because I’m too weak to stop it and move on with my life.”
“I envy you,” she says. “I can’t do crying. It just suddenly turned itself off. I thought maybe people like me who can’t cry were strong people, but it is actually the ones who can. I may not be with you for the rest of your journey, physically, but don’t forget that deep in your heart, where you keep me, I’m with you until the edges of the earth.”
I nod, forcing a smile out as tears come flowing down again. I close my eyes as I feel the touch of her skin on mine. And then I feel another kiss on my lips.
###
“Wake up, sleepyhead.” I jolt when I feel a sudden nudge on my foot. “Since when did you put on some socks when you sleep?”
“What time is it?” I yawn, wiping my eyes with my palms.
The surroundings become clear to me. It’s full of cots in camouflage patterns, and other stuff that my tent mates own.
“It’s eleven. You missed breakfast again.”
I grab my watch from under my pillow to check the time. Yeah, she’s not lying. My stomach growls, waiting for food. I sit up on the cot and look at Nathalie as she speaks again.
“By the way, we’re at the recreation if you care to join. The boys are playing basketball.”
“That’s nice.” I wear the dog tags that I found around my neck. As it reminded me, I look down to see the names embedded in them. “Right, I should take this to their general or something. These men must be part of his battalion.”
“Yeah, sure. And eat something.” She hits my toe with her fingers. “Oh, and by the way, he never left you.”
I follow the direction of her sight and it leads me to look at the dog’s face. I sigh, dropping my head.
“I’ll see you both out.” She smiles, leaving my tent.
I glower at the dog, whose eyes are already on me. “What? I’m not your owner. I’m not Andrew.”
Pfft. As if he understood me.
“You seem to never get off of my face, huh? You little jerk.” I roll my eyes away, thinking the dog would have left already, but it seems like he’s staying unmoved in his position. I sway my hands up to startle him while saying, “Shoo! Shoo! Go away. Leave, now.”
Well, obviously, that didn’t work. I sigh as I calm myself down. I analyze the dog’s body language, trying to understand it. Then I say, “You seem to be forgiving.”
I look deep into his eyes, and I see the same hazel brown hue as Riley’s set of eyes. Dead air flows between us, but I don’t mind it at all. I continue, “After all I’ve done to you, the many times I tried to kill you, you seem to forget it all. Why?”
He wags his tail for a few seconds.
“Or maybe you were asking for forgiveness?” I shrug. “Well, maybe it wasn’t your fault. You didn’t kill her. I was stupid enough to have thought of that, but you didn’t. I’m not telling you we should be friends, alright? I’m just trying to tell you to skedaddle. Now leave. You’re not guilty.”
I turn away, intending to end this self-talk. I mean, he doesn’t really know what I’m saying, but I do. I scoff. “Who am I kidding?”
The dog walks forward to me, which makes me flinch. Then he puts his paw up on the edge of my cot. “What? Do you forgive me now, too? Are we forgiving each other? Sure, we can do that. But we’re not friends, okay? FRIENDS.” I emphasize.
He barks, making me flinch again. The wagging of his tail becomes harder and faster. He spins around as if he’s telling me he’s happy. I get confused for a bit. Is he happy because I told him we’re not friends? Oh, I emphasized only the word ‘friends’. Right. Gosh, I’m always stupid.
His spinning continues, almost hitting and destroying the stuff around him, which makes me smile widely. “Hey, now. Sit.”
He sits instantly.
“Fine, here’s the deal. We can become friends, but stop scaring me with your barks or I’ll throw you in a pit of zombies. Do you understand?”
He acts like he’s barking, but no sound is coming out of his mouth.
I chuckle again. “You do understand me.”
I hold out my hand slowly to reach for its furry head. My pulse is racing. As I land on it, his hair is as soft as cotton. I stroke him gently, and it’s a surprise that he’s not hysterical about it. He must have understood that I don’t want to get startled all the time while we’re still getting to know each other. Dogs really are smart, huh?
I go for his neck to reach for his body, and he slowly leans himself forward, putting his chin up on the edge of my cot. The fur on his body is thicker and denser, and he seems to shed a lot. When I retrieve my hand, lots of hair sticks to it.
A little tear from his harness catches my eyes. And it seems a bit intentional. I’m not sure if Andrew made this tear, but it also looks a bit earlier than when we met the dog. “What’s in here?”
I insert my pointing finger and thumb and feel something thin and hard. It wasn’t kept deeper, which I know this has to be a clue or something. As soon as I take it out, it appears to be another dog tag.
Alex Herrera
US Force
Then I flip it over and find another name. But this one is only one name.
Achilles
US Force K-9
I scoff. I read the name again. “Achilles. So you’re Achilles this whole time, huh?” I caress his ear, which he likes. “Why don’t we grab some breakfast now, Achilles? Does that sound good?”
He whimpers in excitement. I get off the cot, grabbing my leather jacket. And then I wear it as I meet the green horizon outside the tent. Achilles barks as he runs through the field, chasing a dragonfly. I take in the fresh air, eyes closed.
Seconds later, I hate soft footsteps crushing the grass. “Are you Isaac Maddox?”
Saying my name out in a deep, manly voice makes my eyes open. The captain of the battalion said my name. Making us fill up a sheet of paper must have helped him find out who I am. The captain has two soldiers behind him, both clasping their hands together behind them, their legs splitting.
I reply to him, “Yes, sir?”
“Three days ago, we witnessed many of my troops die at the hands of the zombies. You were told to evacuate immediately, yet you disagreed and saved some of them. I’ve seen potential in you, kid. How old are you?”
“Nineteen.”
“That’s perfect. We need volunteers on our team, and you’re the first one that came to my mind. Would like to be a part of the team and kick some zombie ass?”
A huge smile grows on my face as I hear that word again. “Where to, sir?”