.

“They thought we were infected? That’s absurd they couldn’t have—”
“I looked the man in the eye. He started firing, even after having had plausible time to shout and plead with him. He opened fire and I ducked behind the produce.”
“That’s...but why?”
“No clue Tess. But I think it’s best if we…they don’t seem to be hostile towards us anymore.” He notions towards them. I nod, pensive in thought, in preliminary agreement with him, I knew we didn’t have a choice and that thinking about it—why…was I considering thinking about it? What, as if I—
You’ve already walked towards them. They pay no attention to you, unaffected. You…I’d imagine unless it was trying to wriggle its mouth frenetically into your neck and gorge on your jugular vein, you…”Are you having a male bonding moment?! Tizzah, because if you need your, privacy! I can always—step into the other room, if you truly—
“Tess, we don’t have—Tess
“the time, I know—if you truly need the time alone then I would gladly oblige to your—” I load the rifle faster than he has the time to gallivant his—screwing up his eyes—I shriek! “Screwing up your eyes—”
“No, no no, no what are you doing do you see this…Rifle do you see this rifle pointed between your—” He disarms me?, empties the clip into the ceiling and—
“She won’t be out for long; Aesops, gather the rest of the…”
.

The definitive moment of convergence was witnessing the infected eviscerate a child in rabid, roiling frenzy. I ran towards the child beforehand, screaming at it to flee, knowing they’d just catch it anyway. It made me vomit in revulsion and disbelief. The creatures glanced at us afterwards, probably curious why we weren’t indulging with them, then walked away. I looked at Nate quizzically; he was in a state of shock. Aesops shrugged.
“They even ate the bones,” he observed, chewing on his cigar.
“The only explanation is that they must have thought we were one of them,” I whisper. “It’s probably why that man shot at me; he must’ve thought I was a zombie.”
“But why? You don’t even look like one.”
“Pheromones,” Aesops snorts, staring at the ground and crossing his arms.
“Pheromones?”
“It’s in all the movies; zombies can’t see…they use pheromones to track their pray. They have an acute sense of smell, like animals.”
“Aesops, these aren’t zombies. They are afflicted by disease. Zombies don’t exist anywhere but the movies.”
The infected saunter off, their backs hunched.
.

“Maybe we’re infected and just don’t know it,” I propose. The others are using the swings, trying to knock each other off. Nate is afraid to jump off in mid-air. They both agree that our predicament is hopeless. I’m trying my best not to agree with them. I haven’t eaten in days, I can’t overcome the feeling food is always right next to me…
Aesops belches.
A group of people are shouting in the distance. Shots are fired. My head perks in that direction; Nate stops swinging. I reach for my rifle and start stealthily approaching the outburst.
Aesops belches. I sneer at him. Nate is already behind me, trigger happy and grinning.
A woman runs out from behind the corner of the intersection that is blind to us. She sees us and screams in panic. I raise my hand to try and reassure her that we’re not infected but one of them decapitates her from behind, literally yanking her head right off. It glances at us suspiciously before sinking his teeth into her head.
“Well at least now we don’t have to get involved,” Nate whispers.
A truck runs over the creature while it’s eating, knocking it across the street. An icecream truck. Someone inside shouts, “The devil is here!” A man chewing gum jumps out from the passenger’s seat with a bazooka. As the creature snarls at him he takes aim and blows a hole into the street.
Ignoring us, he gets back into the icecream truck and drives off.
.

There is no doubt in my mind that the infected now view us as their own kin. Passing by crowds of them, they don’t so much as look at us. They hunch droopily for hours on end and then all turn their heads in a certain direction before scampering off. None of them seem to communicate aside from the inexplicable groans they make. Does groaning express their hunger? They seem to be insatiable to begin with.
Aesops has stocked up on rations. He pushes a shopping cart to a car Nate stole when we were back in the suburbs. Nate gets out of the car to help him pack the food into the trunk.
A rumbling sound startles a parking lot full of the infected. It sounds like a tank. We get in and start the car, driving out of the parking lot; a missile grazes the car and explodes nearby, tipping the car over. Nate screams.
I kick the door of the inverted car, strapping on my rifle. Explosions riddle around me.
“What now?” Aesops grunts, already wielding a bazooka of his own.
“I don’t know,” I respond, solemnly.
Aesops shrugs and lugs the bazooka over his shoulder. The infected take to their feet, dashing towards the incoming tanks. There’s five of them altogether; resistance is futile.
“We’re better off running,” I suggest. “We can’t even penetrate one tank let alone five. I survey the area. “Where’s Nate?”
“He started running that way,” Aesops points behind us. “While ago actually.”
.

We’ve broken into someone’s vacant home. Nate and Aesops are watching TV. I am too restless, pacing around the kitchen, reading Borges.
Suddenly the front door opens and an infected lets out a curious groan. It smiles.
“Hi,” it groans. Flabbergasted, I begin to open the kitchen drawers one by one, feeling for a steak knife.
“Hi…?” I reply. “You can talk?”
The infected nods. “We all can.”
“You…can? Then how come none of you has ever said anything to us?”
The infected muses over its response. Nate is too busy praying for his life to notice that the infected is talking. Aesops is still watching TV. “All of us have been…cautious about approaching any of you. You are anomalies to us.”
“Anomalies? How so?”
“How do I explain this,” the creature raises his hand to his chin. “May I come in by any chance? My back is very sore…”
“Of course of course,” I hustle to find a chair and push it towards him. Nate has opened his eyes, staring at the infected warily. Aesops continues to watch TV, laughing intermittently.
“We…as you may have observed, find our prey via scents that we can smell from miles away,” the infected begins. “No scent, whatsoever, emits from the three of you. It seems that…none of us feel an inclination to eat you.”
Stunned, I try to take this all in. Part of me is relieved, but it still doesn’t explain why other humans view us as hostile.
“Is that why our own kind attacks us?”
“No…” The infected sighs, clasping his hands together. He seems wrought with emotion.
Aesops laughs hysterically. His laughter has become increasingly unsettling. He has still failed to notice our guest.
“You see when—” the creature’s head explodes.
I whirl around to see Aesops standing adjacent to the headless corpse with a magnum pointed in its direction. Unable to explain that we are now probably all doomed, I lean back into the couch and slowly shake my head from side to side.
“We have to leave or barricade ourselves somewhere in this house,” I warn the others. Aesops gives me a confused look. “That creature was ingratiating itself with us. You, unfortunately, shot it.”
“What if we hide the body,” Nate suggest, rolling a joint.
“It would be risky but unless we have to fight humans and infected we have no choice,” I regard. Aesops has plopped down on the couch already, engrossed with the TV.
.

We spy on an unsuspecting woman pushing her child in a stroller. We have invaded human territory. We are hiding in the bushes, peaking out through the shrubbery. Our only hope of reconciling ourselves was to somehow prove to them that we were humans, too. For some reason, part of me doubted that we were.
I crawl out of the bush, both of the others providing me with cover in case something goes awry. Before I make it all the way out Nate pulls me back by the shoulder.
“Why is that woman not quarantined,” Nate whispers. “Shouldn’t she be hidden away with the rest of the survivors?”
“It’s a trap,” Aesops concurs.
I survey our surroundings; it’s level, there isn’t anywhere someone could visibly hide. Despite reassuring them the others insist it’s a trap. I shrug and crawl back out, prepared to be ambushed. I slowly tread my way to the mother, calling for her attention. When I get awkwardly close she turns around with an assault rifle and strafes around me. I try to persuade him I’m human but he ignores me, signaling for back up. Back up? I ask why he’d need back up but the others have already firing. They continue to shoot his corpse long after his death.
“Told you,” Nate shouts, spitting on the ground. “I saw him call for back up; we should get out of her before they show up.”
Looking over my shoulder I notice someone trying to gain my attention. I start walking towards her, directing the others to follow me. It’s a woman…with black hair. I can’t discern much else. She’s shouting something to us but I can’t make it out. Becoming nervous, I begin to jog towards her.
“I’ll explain everything,” the woman shouts again once we’re in range. I remain skeptical, further surveying the area. Aesops is listening to music. His mind is somewhere else, far away. His ability to remain incognizant of his surroundings is unparallel. He is indomitable.
When we reach the woman she bid us to follow her, quickly skittering in the opposite direction. Nate asks where we are going but she ignores him. She reminds me of a hummingbird. We enter a building and go up numerous flights of stairs; she opens a door on one of the landings, enters, walks to the end of the hallway and knocks on a door. Her anxious twittering is unnerving.
Before I question as to why she’s so shaken, the door swings open and she ushers us into a room that is at first glance empty. She implores us to wait here and scampers off.
“Should we follow her?” Nate asks. He has become paranoid and effortlessly remains awake for days on end. I realize that he will eventually snap; he is inconsolable.
“No,” I reply sternly. We wait, thinking about how I should have showered when I had the chance. I am exhausted…even I’m becoming restless. The more I brood, the more hopeless our situation seems. I shake away my feelings of despair, forcing myself to focus on our immediate situation.
Finally, the door opens, and a suited man walks in, closing the door behind him.
“How are you,” he asks us. None of us respond. “Come,” he beckons, “I’m sure you are all expecting answers.”
As we follow him down he begins to talk again, asking us how we’ve survived for so long. I explain that the infected ignore us and that humans perceive us as hostile, as if we were infected. The man nods, heading up another flight of stairs.
For no apparent reason, Nate shoots the man in the head.
It takes me awhile to digest the situation. Furious, I turn to Nate, who’s lowered his rifle. He slowly creeps backwards, his entire arms shaking. I ask him why he would do such a thing. That man was our only hope.
“I…” He shakes his head. Enraged, I storm out of the building. We pass by the woman rushing up the staircase then exit the door we entered through, fleeing into the nearby woods.
.

Over the next few days I mull over why those people didn’t attack us like the rest . We’ve taken refuge inside another abandoned home. Nate’s locked himself in one of the upstairs bedrooms, only coming out to eat. Aesops, adamantly oblivious, parks himself on the living-room couch, mesmerized by the TV.
I am beginning to go mad. We can’t hide like this forever. Nate is already losing his mind; he won’t last much longer , and refuses to explain his reasoning for killing the man. I resort to conversing with Aesops, asking him why he thinks Nate shot the man. He doesn’t know what I’m talking about.
Suddenly, while I cook dinner, someone kicks the door open, spraying bullets blindly. I duck beneath the counter, crawling towards my gun. I can hear Nate fling the door upstairs, firing his gun as well, threatening the intruder and assuming that it’s someone he knows. Having armed myself, I hop over the counter and smack Aesops, who’s still watching TV; I notion towards the gunfire. He gets up reluctantly, reaching for his own gun. I strafe into one of the rooms that has a screen-door leading onto the deck outside.
Neither Nate nor the intruder cease firing, reloading when needed. I circle around the house and tiptoe towards the front door. Noiselessly pushing it open, I peak in. Apparently, the owner of the house has returned; a rotund man wearing a plaid felt jacket in a crew-cut. He’s taken cover, out of ammunition. Nate flings himself around the corner; the man whips him with his gun, knocking Nate to the floor.
Something pushes me, sending me flying out of the way. I glimpse an infected charging towards the intruder; I rush back to the door to see Nate pissing his pants as the infected dismembers the poor man in a vicious flurry. Nate raises his gun and, realizing what he’s about to do, open my mouth to scream. But I’m too late; he fires at the creature, closing his eyes. Knowing his actions are irrevocable, I begin to fire at it too.
Aesops, who’s no where near us, also begins to fire, most likely in response to our firing. The creature, having not been prepared, can’t sustain being shot for very long. It falls over, dragging what’s left of it towards me. Nate hops over it as I yell for Aesops to get outside; I toss a grenade into the house, dashing off as it explodes. I don’t stop running for much farther than necessary, leaning over to hold onto my thighs, panting, Aesops still trailing after us.

.

Other infected members don’t seem to care about the death of their brethren, ignoring us as usual. I suppose there’s no way any of them could know; likewise, Nate seems even more dismayed. I begin to feel maddeningly helpless. Even Aesops is rather downcast.
“We have to do something,” Nate says. “There’s got to be something we can do.”
“I can’t think of anything.”
“What if we drive a car. They can’t drive cars can they. It’ll prove we’re not one of them.”
I consider this, pointing out the flaw that they might not perceive us as infected but something else entirely. As I’m talking one of the infected approaches us, limping earnestly. It groans at us as if to tell us it’s friendly. Aesops groans back at it.
For hours, it follows us as we break into abandoned houses, searching for survivors and because we have nothing better to do. Nothing makes sense anymore; I don’t bother reasoning what interest it has taken in us. Nate is constantly glancing at it, certain that it will attack us if he doesn’t keep constant vigilance over it.
I can’t help but to think its kind of cute. It sounds like a seal.
“It seems you made a friend,” Aesops comments, noticing the creature has rather taken to me.
“He understands me,” I smile.
We walk towards a survivor compound, the infected member with us. I caution the others, tell them we should turn back, but in despair have become reckless and apathetic. Nate begins to shout as we near the compound, taunting for them to shoot us.
I notice a sniper in one of the control towers taking aim. I scream for everyone to run for cover but Nate ignores me. The sniper shoots him in the head; he falls to his knees, his mouth still trying to articulate what he was saying before he died. Aesops, having probably considered Nate a better friend even though Nate didn’t share any consideration at all, starts shooting the sniper. The infected doesn’t seem to know what’s going on; the sniper shoots it next. It emits a confused groan, the sniper having failed to shoot it in the head.
Aesops finally runs towards me, still firing his gun in the direction of the tower, weeping with rage. I notice the infected hovering over Nate’s corpse, unable to comprehend death.
Looking behind us, infected begin to charge out from the woods, sprinting towards the compound. I hear the siren go off. Army troops run out to defend, but the infected are impervious to gunfire that isn’t prolonged. Within ten minutes the entire compound is overrun; everyone is either dead or infected.
I kneel down next to Aesops, who has his head propped downwards onto his crossed arms, crying hysterically. I tried to comfort him, but he didn’t seem to hear anything I said. When he got up, he looked at me obediently. I couldn’t think of anything we could possibly do. Walking away, I glanced over my shoulder one last time at Nate’s trampled body; infected loitered around it in stupor.
.

A month passed by and we still had no answers. Aesops had taken to another couch. Even though the TV was on, he mostly stared at the floor, dejected. He refused to accept Nate’s death, insisting I leave food out for him during meals. He rarely ever spoke anymore, overwhelmed by his loss.
The infected moved in with us. He sat at the dining-room table, day and night. Nothing seemed to impel him; I wondered if he even had thoughts. Sometimes I played cards with him, pretending he was actually my opponent even though I was playing for him as well as me. He observed the cards and my hands very carefully as if studying me. In my loneliness I talked to him. He had no idea what I was saying, but I still felt as though he was listening.
One day he gathered all the cards and compiled them into a stacked deck. He then shuffled them and dispensed them in the same manner he’d observed me do so in the past. I was at a loss for words. Even more mind-boggling was my inability to ever defeat him. He won every single game.
Soon after I began to teach him how to cook, do the laundry, and be of general use around the house. Everything he learned he performed preternaturally, never making as much as a mistake. His determination to learn was insatiable; he seemed to fill Nate’s glaring absence, and even Aesops began to take a liking towards him, coaxing him onto the couch to share his fascination with the TV.
I gathered text-books on the English language for him from various households; the morning after I encountered him reading Labyrinths by Borges. He glanced up at me and groaned complacently. I was beginning to wonder what my own purpose was when this human, infected by disease, could do everything that I could, or anyone for that matter, better. Was the human race going extinct, gradually being replaced by these supernal beings? Was this simply the next stage in the evolution of our species?
One day I found a note on the table. The infected that had been living with us had scrawled a sincere farewell and that he’d return to us soon; he needed to share his newfound discoveries with his own brethren. This came to no surprise to me, as I’d already mused over the implications.
Aesops chortles and slaps his thighs, once again mesmerized by the TV. I lug two six packs out of the fridge, heaving one onto his lap. He smiles at me with gratitude, struggling to twist off the cap of his first beer.