The Dying & The Dead 2 by Jack Jewis Page A

name his parents had given
him. He presumed that they'd decided upon it seconds after a doctor slapped his
bare bum and then handed him to his mother. His real name was Barry, of course,
but the other kids at school had basterdised it until it became Baz.  If only
they could see him now. He bet they never imagined that the small boy would
become one of the Capita Five, responsible for invading towns like Kiele. Then
again, nobody imagined how the world would change because the outbreak had
happened so suddenly. As much as he’d like to shove it in their faces, they’d
never know. Nobody would. Outside of the chamber, he would forever be Baz.
     
    On his way home through the Dome, he
passed by hundreds of cheaply-made cabins that were erected within feet of each
other. From the outside, the Dome looked huge, but nothing could prepare you
for the scale of it once you were underneath the glass ceiling.
     
    He was almost home, when he stopped
just short of his neighbour’s house. He saw them through the window, with their
cabin lit by the flicker of a candle. They were a small family consisting of
just Terry Long, his wife Georgina and their son, Kieron. Kieron and Georgina
sat on a couch, while Terry was in a chair, reading to them from a book. Kieron
sat tight against his mother; his head slumped against her shoulder. Baz saw
that the little boy wasn’t wearing his mask.
     
    He shook his head. Baz had known for
a while that his neighbour was harbouring his immune son. It was something that
could get the parents killed and the little boy packed on a train to Dam Marsh.
He wished they’d just have a little sense and at least draw their curtains
before letting him take off his mask.
     
    Baz knew that it was his duty as a
Dome resident to report it. He had a bigger responsibility than most since,
although nobody knew it, he was one of the Five. The funny thing was that when
Baz approached his neighbour’s house, he became oblivious to what was around
him. His memory fogged over. It was a funny thing indeed, but how was Baz
supposed to report what he didn’t see or remember?
     
    That was the excuse he’d use if it
ever came to it. The one thing he couldn’t explain was the supplies that he
sometimes left on their doorstep. If he was ever caught doing that, he would
soon be sat in the darkness of a Capita dungeon.
     
    A lot of the Capita’s ideals were
outdated and downright hateful. The problem was that they provided safety where
nobody else could. In a world full of the cannibalistic infected, that was
worth too much to give away. Tammuz didn’t believe in their ideology, but he
appreciated being able to put his head on his pillow at night and not have to
wonder if something would creep up on him in the darkness.
     
    Figures turned the corner at the end
of the street. Baz stopped. There were five men ahead of him in Capita
uniforms. They marched in formation toward him, stopping a couple of feet away.
He looked at their harsh expressions and saw the weapons they twisted in their
hands. One of them spoke to him.
     
    “Why are you out so late?” he said.
     
    Anger flared in him at the
disrespect, but he realised that out here, he wasn’t Tammuz. He was just Baz. A
nobody. He put his hands in his pockets.
     
    “Couldn’t sleep,” he said. “What are
you doing around here?”
     
    “None of your business,” said one of
the guards at the back. “If you can’t sleep, then go home, shut your eyes and
count infected.”
     
    The guards walked past him in file.
He turned and watched as they got nearer to Terry’s house. He hoped that they
wouldn’t spot the candle light flickering in the living room. That they
wouldn’t notice the boy sat next to his mother, his mask-less lips mouthing the
words to the story that his dad read to him.
     
    He thought he should say something,
but he pictured the dungeons again, and knew that he couldn’t.
     
    He clenched his hands into fists in
his pockets. The guards