his clean appearance and relatively healthy state immediately makes sense.
"Do you think he was their friend?"
Jordan nods. "How much time do you think has passed since you first saw him?"
I'm surprised by the question. "Um, I don’t know. Two minutes max."
"Do you have a watch on?"
"No, but I have my phone still."
"Start timing this."
I pull my phone out of my pocket and look at the clock, noting the time. "What am I timing?"
He glances over at me, looks at my hands to make sure I've taken my phone out, and goes back to our zombie who still stands on the shore with his feet in the water.
"How long it takes him to go from that," he says, pointing at the runner. Then he points to the shamblers and says, “To that.”
"Do you think he will? Do they all start out like him?"
"I hope so." His tone is grim. “Otherwise we’re in trouble.”
We watch in silence for almost twenty minutes. The others make it down to shore and most walk into the water trying to get to us, but are swept away when they lose footing and the current gets them, just as Jordan said it would. He has to row us upstream several times because the current keeps trying to take us away too, and all the while the runner stands and stares. Occasionally he yells at us and it's starting to sound hoarse, but I can’t be sure if it’s from overuse and strain or his rapid decomp.
"He's getting paler." I say in a low voice.
"Yeah. And his body has been trembling. Did you see that? He's twitching."
He’s right; the runner is starting to show signs of muscle spasm, and when he releases another shout, it comes out as a growl that tapers off into a very distinctive groan. He takes another step into the water but this time doesn't appear to notice it. He looks straight at us, his nose in the air catching our scent on the wind, then stumbles deep into the water, catches the current and is swept away.
"How long?" Jordan asks, grabbing the oars and rowing us back upstream, getting some distance between us and the zombie.
"About twenty minutes."
"Five minutes from being bitten to being taken down by The Fever. Another twenty for muscle failure." he surmises.
"And for reasoning to die out." I add. "He didn't want to go into the water at first. He knew he wouldn't make it to us."
Jordan nods in agreement. "It's good to know. If we see someone bit, we need to get the hell away from them and fast."
“Or finish them off before they change.”
“Or that, yeah.”
"You never saw it happen? Yesterday when the apartments were overrun, you didn’t see anyone change?"
It had to have happened fast and probably started almost immediately after I left. I’m lucky I was on the other side of town and made my way back on the MAX. I rode right through the wave of disease rolling out from campus and never felt it.
He hesitates and starts rowing almost lazily. “There was a girl on the couch downstairs when I got home. She had blood all over her arm and people were surrounding her, yelling to call 911. Someone said she was burning up and I ran to get ice from my room. When I got back out to the landing, there was a fight going on. I couldn’t see exactly who was attacking who but when I went to go back downstairs and help, I ran right into this guy. He looked like your roommate did; pale, dead eyed, covered in blood. He started snapping at me, grabbing for me so I ran from him. I barely made it to my room and when I closed the door he clawed at it for forever.”
“Did someone else eventually kill him?” I ask, thinking of what he said about zombies never giving up, never getting tired.
“Yeah.” he says, picking up the pace. “You.”
I can tell from his tone and the pace of his rowing that the conversation is over, that we’re leaving it behind, but something about the story doesn’t sit right. I’ve killed only two infected so far, the guy at the marina and Zombie Boy back at the apartments, and both of them were this morning. He’s talking about
"Do you think he was their friend?"
Jordan nods. "How much time do you think has passed since you first saw him?"
I'm surprised by the question. "Um, I don’t know. Two minutes max."
"Do you have a watch on?"
"No, but I have my phone still."
"Start timing this."
I pull my phone out of my pocket and look at the clock, noting the time. "What am I timing?"
He glances over at me, looks at my hands to make sure I've taken my phone out, and goes back to our zombie who still stands on the shore with his feet in the water.
"How long it takes him to go from that," he says, pointing at the runner. Then he points to the shamblers and says, “To that.”
"Do you think he will? Do they all start out like him?"
"I hope so." His tone is grim. “Otherwise we’re in trouble.”
We watch in silence for almost twenty minutes. The others make it down to shore and most walk into the water trying to get to us, but are swept away when they lose footing and the current gets them, just as Jordan said it would. He has to row us upstream several times because the current keeps trying to take us away too, and all the while the runner stands and stares. Occasionally he yells at us and it's starting to sound hoarse, but I can’t be sure if it’s from overuse and strain or his rapid decomp.
"He's getting paler." I say in a low voice.
"Yeah. And his body has been trembling. Did you see that? He's twitching."
He’s right; the runner is starting to show signs of muscle spasm, and when he releases another shout, it comes out as a growl that tapers off into a very distinctive groan. He takes another step into the water but this time doesn't appear to notice it. He looks straight at us, his nose in the air catching our scent on the wind, then stumbles deep into the water, catches the current and is swept away.
"How long?" Jordan asks, grabbing the oars and rowing us back upstream, getting some distance between us and the zombie.
"About twenty minutes."
"Five minutes from being bitten to being taken down by The Fever. Another twenty for muscle failure." he surmises.
"And for reasoning to die out." I add. "He didn't want to go into the water at first. He knew he wouldn't make it to us."
Jordan nods in agreement. "It's good to know. If we see someone bit, we need to get the hell away from them and fast."
“Or finish them off before they change.”
“Or that, yeah.”
"You never saw it happen? Yesterday when the apartments were overrun, you didn’t see anyone change?"
It had to have happened fast and probably started almost immediately after I left. I’m lucky I was on the other side of town and made my way back on the MAX. I rode right through the wave of disease rolling out from campus and never felt it.
He hesitates and starts rowing almost lazily. “There was a girl on the couch downstairs when I got home. She had blood all over her arm and people were surrounding her, yelling to call 911. Someone said she was burning up and I ran to get ice from my room. When I got back out to the landing, there was a fight going on. I couldn’t see exactly who was attacking who but when I went to go back downstairs and help, I ran right into this guy. He looked like your roommate did; pale, dead eyed, covered in blood. He started snapping at me, grabbing for me so I ran from him. I barely made it to my room and when I closed the door he clawed at it for forever.”
“Did someone else eventually kill him?” I ask, thinking of what he said about zombies never giving up, never getting tired.
“Yeah.” he says, picking up the pace. “You.”
I can tell from his tone and the pace of his rowing that the conversation is over, that we’re leaving it behind, but something about the story doesn’t sit right. I’ve killed only two infected so far, the guy at the marina and Zombie Boy back at the apartments, and both of them were this morning. He’s talking about
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