DISEASE: A Zombie Novel by M.F. Wahl Page B

hundred followers.
    Back then people came to her because they thought she was a prophet, some still do, but these days most come for protection.
    Since The Plague, and the sudden influx of a secular populace, Lot has toned down much of the sacerdotal side of things, but that doesn’t stop people from fervently asking “how-high” before she can even say “jump”. Besides, she falls back on the religious mumbo jumbo when it suits her.
    Technically, Danny isn’t even allowed to have this watch. It’s the one thing he’s been able to keep from Lot over the years. When his father joined her, he was supposed to give all his worldly possessions to the “cause”. He sold the house, the car, even the furniture. Every stock, every bond, every disability check, were absorbed by Lot’s influence. Every little boy left orphaned by a desperate father; but for some reason the watch was saved.
    With a huge breath Danny sits up and rubs his face with his hands. They are stained with dried, flaking blood, his clothes, dirty and wrinkled. He pushes himself to the side of the bed and reaches under his mattress to pull out a creased and worn picture.
    The picture is of Danny; he is about six years old in it. Next to him is a tall, fit looking man with a cane. Father and son smile and wave at the camera, standing in front of the entrance to Disneyland, carefree and not a worry in the world.
    Danny closes his eyes and breathes deeply, trying to steady himself. He stands, needing to get out of the room, needing to move, needing to escape the torrent of emotions that threaten to carry him away.
     
    ***
     
    An overhead lamp brightly lights the bathroom where Alex sits on a closed toilet, wrapped in a white hotel towel. The boy has been scrubbed thoroughly; there is no more dirt on his face and no trace of old tears. For once he looks like any other little boy, save for being on the extremely skinny side.
    Lot brushes his freshly trimmed hair. The child, completely uninterested in grooming, is endlessly fascinated with turning the handle of the sink faucet, although nothing comes out of the tap. He lets his fingers touch the dirty water held in the sink basin then goes back to turning.
    Since Lot brought the boy to her room he has shown a total lack of interest in anything remotely human. He wolfed down his supper without a hint of appreciation and was then content to explore her bookshelves without acknowledging another person was present. He had spent a good amount of time looking at a picture book upside down and when Lot corrected the way he held it, he tossed the book on the floor as though it had become uninteresting.
    Alex is easily distracted and unconcerned with anyone else. It made it difficult to get him cleaned up. He continuously finds inconsequential things appealing, like the tap he now turns on and off. He demonstrates little to no recognition in Lot’s direction, making her feel like a ghost. Was this how it was for Casey? Being an automaton caring for a child operating in his own world? No, Lot saw Alex listen to her, pay attention to her. In his own way, he had a connection with her. Maybe this is how it was at first, but Casey found a way to break through to him. Lot’s sure this child would have followed her into the fire.
    She watches him play with the faucet. After what he’s been through he’ll need his world to be reset, to be stabilized. It will only take a few right moves to slide into Casey’s void. “Alex, now that dinner has settled what do you think about having some dessert?”
    Alex continues to play with the faucet, ignoring Lot. She places her hand gently on his, stopping the incessant squeak. For the first time in over an hour the child looks at her, his bright blue eyes firing up. They take her breath away. He’s annoyed, but it’s something. She smiles. He stares.
    Lot guides the towel-clad child from the bathroom into the bedroom. The bleached white of the fabric stands out against his fresh