Contagious by Emily Goodwin

zombie!”
    “ Like hell you aren’t!” the man shouted, aim unwavering.
    “ I’m not, I promise! I haven’t been bitten!”
    “ It’s not the virus that’s making you crazy,” he said angrily, moving forward, rifle in hand. “Damn looters started already!”
    “ I’m not looting,” I said back, though in all fairness, I had broken into someone’s house. Where had this guy come from? And where was Argos? “No-no one lives here,” I tried. I debated if I should raise my gun. I could drop to the ground, shoot him in the leg, take his gun and make a run for it. No, that was a crappy thing to do. The man came closer. I could see his hands shake ever so slightly. My heart pounded and my palms sweat. I swallowed hard and stepped in his direction. “What’s it to you, anyway?”
    “ People lived in that house.”
    “ Lived, see? No one does anymore.”
    He raised the gun so that the barrel was parallel to my forehead. Argos trotted around the house. He stopped and looked at me, assessing the situation. From what I knew about him, he didn’t view humans as threats. If he could just stay quiet…I had my doubts about him not getting shot.
    “ No!” the man continued. “You shouldn’t break into other people’s houses, even though times are bad.”
    I nearly rolled my eyes. Was he going to lecture me or shoot me? I fixed my gaze on his, unblinking. I’ve always been good at reading people. It’s partially why I’m good at getting away with crap. This guy was as easy to read as a highway billboard, and right now he was scared shitless.
    “ Zombie!” I yelled, diverting my eyes to the left. The man jumped, thankfully not pulling the trigger on impulse, and turned. I ducked out of the way, grabbed the gun and shoved it back and in his face. He staggered, crying out in pain, losing his grip on the gun.
    And now it was in my hands.
    “ Listen here, you little prick,” I said venomously. “Times are worse than bad. For all we know, we could be the only ones left. Don’t waste a human life trying to be all ‘above the law’. There is no law anymore.”
    He reeled back, terrified. Someone ran through the decorative planters along the house, feet crunching the lava rocks. I whipped around, my pistol aimed.
    “ Orissa!” Padraic called. “I heard the shot. I wanted to make sure you were alri—” he cut off, skidding to a stop. His eyes flashed from me to the man several times. Once he decided the guy wasn’t crazy, he asked. “What is going on?”
    “ He,” I jeered, “tried to kill me.”
    “ Why?” Padraic blurted, having to be logical.
    “ Cause he’s an idiot,” I replied. “It doesn’t matter. I got what we need so let’s go.”
    “ Wait,” Padraic said. “Are there more? More people alive?”
    “ Maybe,” the man said bitterly.
    “ That’s great! You should get them and come with us. We’re going to find the quarantine.”
    I clicked the safety on my pistol and stuck it in my waistband, refusing to wince at the pain my shoulder caused me. Switching the rifle to my right hand, I checked the remaining ammo; there were six bullets left.
    “ No,” the man said firmly. “We decided to stay. We have supplies.”
    “ It won’t last forever,” Padraic said gravely.
    “ I have enough,” he said, putting his hand on his chin. I gathered up the hoses and the dog food, plopping them down in front of Padraic. That was when I noticed the sweat running down the guy’s face. Sure, nerves could make you sweaty, but not on this chilly fall day.
    “ What kind of food do you have?” I asked.
    “ Uh, lots of dried stuff. It will last.” His eyes moved to the left as he spoke.
    “ He’s lying,” I called him out.
    Padraic shook his head. “Why would he lie?”
    “ I don’t know. But he is.” I aimed the gun at him. “Why are you lying?”
    The guy shook his head. Blood dripped from his nose.
    Padraic inhaled sharply. “You’re infected,” he alleged. “When?”
    The guy