Tuesday, February 21, 2012

The Infected: What Happened to David Price (7)

seven: lies

We've been hiding in the basement for two days now. The people outside have yet to come in; they set up some sort of perimeter outside our house and they seem to be doing nothing but watching. What Sarabeth Olsen is up to is beyond me. If they're tracking behaviour patterns in the walking dead, they picked the wrong city.

I haven't seen many zombies pass in front of our house. I haven't ventured into town yet, so they might all have converged there but I can't say for sure. Whatever it is Sarabeth and her men are doing doesn't seem to involve Greta and I. I doubt they know we are inside.

Although I've managed to keep Greta calm for the past days, I can't seem to do the same with my curiosity. I want - scratch that, I need - to know what they're doing. I had my doubts the Olsens were involved in all of this and Sarabeth's showing is hardly a coincidence. Maybe I'll get answers about all of this if I go talk to them.

Rationality quickly kicks in and reminds me of the threat out there. Not only the threat of the flesh-eating bastards that roam the streets, but the threat of Man. In desperate times, man has been known to act irresponsibly. I don't know what they are up and I don't want to jeopardize Greta's safety.

But I need to know.

"Greta, I think I'm going to go talk to them, to Charlotte's mom."

She shifts, looks up at me. "No, you can't. What if they want to hurt us, David? What if they do what you did to mom and dad and Rebekah."

I guess she doesn't quite understand what I did. "They won't Greta, we haven't been...infected. They're not going to hurt us."

"Do you promise? David, promise it!"

I grab onto Greta's hands and hold them tightly against my chest. I kiss her forehead and make her the promise that they won't hurt us. She nods in response.

"Don't come up until I say so, you got it kiddo?"

Tears swell up in her eyes but she manages to answer with a simple "yes". I give her hope by smiling but I'm sure she sees through the smoke and mirrors. How horrible that she has to live in a world without hope.


My hands are moist and sweat pearls down my forehead. I rub my hands togheter and muster up the courage to remove the first plank. They'll hear me, Sarabeth and her men I mean. They'll hear me tear the wooden planks off the door, the only thing protecting us from the outside world. Hopefully they don't have guns.

I remove the nails from the first plank and through the crystalized window of our front door, I see Sarabeth walking up the lane way apprehensively. I take off the second board and then the third. By the time I remove the fourth and final board, Sarabeth has reached the door step.

I open the door to my house and find myself face to face with Charlotte's mother.

"David...We we're waiting for you to open that door."

The way she says it, the fact she knew we were inside but didn't act upon it bothers me. Not in the conventional sense. It bothers me somewhere between common sense and spidey sense. I love theories. And this whole scenary smells of conspiracy.

"What...what are you doing here, Mrs. Olsen?"

"Why don't we come in and explain it all?" She says, a slight grin appearing on her face. The three men behind her don't move, don't look at me. They are standing in the middle of their makeshift perimeter and look stiff as stone.

"You can come in. Not them." I've known Sarabeth my whole life, and although something doesn't add up, she's still Charlotte's mother, someone I know and trust.

"Fair enough, David. Shall we go inside, then?"

I keep the door open for her but make sure to close it shut and lock it the moment we are both inside. Sarabeth removes her leather jacket and goes to throw it on the couch but does otherwise when she spots the blood that dominates the living room.

"What happened here?" Sarabeth says, a slight tinge of sorrow in her voice.

"Karl and Annie Lochlan attacked my family," David was about to say what he had to do but decided against the thought and simply added, "They didn't survive."

"I'm so sorry. Did anyone else survive? Anyone else but you?" Sarabeth asks me and I hear genuine concern coming through her question. I think about Greta, think about what is best for her safety. I can't jeopardize that. She deserves a full life. I trust Sarabeth but something seems off; and so I lie.

"No. Nobody else survived."

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