Keep Busy

42.

"Was that a gunshot?" Frank asked Sgt. Gacy as they sat in the warmly lit Processing tent.

"Sounded like it," the man said not looking up from his paperwork.

"Should... uh... someone go check it out?"

"Not your concern," Gacy droned. He was a rotund man with a square head, close-cropped hair and a push-broom moustache. "So, based on the information we've gathered so far it appears that you were somehow in league with the female zombie. The one in the bikini, is that true?"

Frank looked over at Emily and Tristen sitting on the other side of the tent with their backs to him, getting interrogated by their own fat soldiers. He looked back to Gacy. "I don't know about, in league. We were travelling together."

"Um hm. And why didn't she attack you?" Gacy asked scratching some notes.

"She's... um. Well, I don't know exactly. She's different than the others. She was frozen for the first few months of this whole catastrophe and didn't, you know... rot. She seems a whole lot more... together than the other zombies. Physically and mentally."

Gacy continued to write on his papers, his moustache bristling. "Frozen, you say."

"Speaking of Jane, is she okay?" Frank continued. "I heard one of the other soldiers mention something about the bikini girl."

"She's dead," Gacy said, not looking up.

"What?" Frank blurted, suddenly awash in horror.

"She's a zombie. She's dead. Why do you care if she's okay?"

"Oh. Jesus. I thought..."

Gacy looked up to Frank's eyes. Studying them. "You fucking her or something?"

"What? No!"

"You're still alive so that'd be necrophilia, you know."

"I'm not... sleeping with her. She's just... she's nice. A friend. I just wanted to know what's going to happen to her. I can't imagine you guys would let the zombies and living mingle in your little camp here. So, what's the plan for her? Am I able to see her again?"

"Not sure that's in the cards, champ. She's infected—possibly with the variant—and needs to be under close supervision."

"B.4?"

"Before what?" Gacy had gone back to looking at his notes.

"No... the letter B-point-4."

"The variant. That's right. And if that's the case, it'll make all the difference in the world. We're on the precipice of something big here," Gacy said, letting his non-dominant hand drift down to his belly which he scratched unabashedly.

"Like what? A vaccine?"

"Not quite." His smile was not comforting. "This could be the dawn of something entirely new."

"Wait... what do you mean? If not a cure... what would you do with her? Is she going to be okay?" Frank—like Jane—was getting fed up with all the veiled nonsense and arcane answers. Maybe Emily had been right. Maybe these guys were not to be trusted. It was all just smoke and mirrors.

Gacy leaned back in his folding chair, which creaked loudly under his bulk and touched his pen to his lower lip, looking pensive. He sat forward, squinting at Frank.

"What?" Frank asked, suspiciously.

"When you fucked her, did you jizz in her?"

"What?!"