Biohazard

12

Sean was crazy.

Make no mistakes about it. After our adventure in the sewer, I was strung out: shaking, sweating, my guts tied in knots. Part of me wanted to scream and another part wanted to laugh uncontrollably. But I wasn’t about to let that happen.

“We couldn’t have seen that,” I said after a time. I was drawing off a stale cigarette, smoking it with both hands because I couldn’t keep it steady with one.

“Oh, we saw it, all right, brother,” Sean said, slapping my shoulder. “All kinds of crazy shit down below. Things that caught a good dose of radiation and then crawled down there to breed. There’s shit down there that’ll never see the light of day and we can be thankful for that.”

Specs hadn’t said anything. He just stared at us, his eyes glassy and fixed. Mostly he stared at Sean. Wouldn’t stop staring at him, in fact. Finally, Sean said, “Hell’s your problem, bitch?”

Specs was pissed. I could see that. “We could have been killed down there hunting for your fucking Trogs!” he said, letting it all out. “You’re a fucking maniac! Worse, you’re a fucking inconsiderate, reckless maniac who doesn’t give a shit about anybody else! Fuck you and your Trogs! You hear me? Fuck the both of you.”

At which point, he stood up and just started walking down the street. We followed him and I calmed him down bit by bit. Of course, Sean kept laughing about it and that only made matters worse.

“Don’t worry, little brother,” Sean finally told him. “I won’t ask you to go down below again. It ain’t your thing.”

He led us through the streets, keeping an eye out for the Hatchet Clans. About a block from his apartment I saw someone standing in the street. It was a girl. And she looked normal. She stood there, seeing us, and did not move, did not speak. I called out to her, but she didn’t answer. I motioned the others to hang back.

“Well don’t dirty her up too much, Nash,” Sean said.

As I got closer I saw that she was probably around college age, nineteen or twenty, no more than that, girl-next-door pretty with high cheekbones and big blue eyes, a honey-blonde ponytail down the middle of her back. She was dirty and ragged, but you couldn’t get around the fact that she was very stunning.

I held my hands out. “I’m normal,” I said. “So are they. It’s okay. Really.”

Her eyes were glacial, emotionless. When I got up close to her she came alive and there was a knife in her hand. I wrestled with her for it while Sean laughed and Specs panicked. Finally, I pinned her and it wasn’t easy: she was strong, determined.

“Knock it off,” I told her. “Nobody’s going to hurt you! Nobody’s going to kill you or beat you or rape you!”

“Speak for yourself,” Sean said.

“Shut up,” I told him.

I could see in the girl’s eyes she wanted to believe me, but there was doubt and who could blame her?

“I’m gonna let you up now,” I said. “You wanna run away, go ahead. We’re not coming after you. You wanna come with us, that’s fine. We have shelter and food.”

She gave me a hard look. “And what will that cost me?”

“Not a damn thing. You have my word.”

I let her up and she ran off, stopped, watched us. We just went on our way and paid no attention to her, but we knew she was following us.

“Well?” I finally said, turning around.

“My name’s Janie,” she said, offering me a sliver of smile.