Craig DiLouie - The Infection

Erin stares at him wide eyed. “I wish I had done all that,” she says, her eyes gleaming in the candlelight.

“I’m not sure if you would. We came very close to dying—well, almost every day.”

“Man, it’s so cool .”

“Um,” he says.

“Is that how you got that wound on your arm?”

Todd remembers the worm monster lunging out of the dark, its sharklike jaws snapping.

“Yeah,” he says gloomily, covering the bandage with his hand. “So how about you? What’s your story?”

“I’ve been here almost since the beginning,” she says, then stops.

“What happened?”

“I came to the camp with my dad and I got bored,” she mutters, then suddenly brightens. “Let’s play truth or dare.”

“Okay,” he says.

“I’ll go first. Go ahead, Todd. Ask me.”

“Um, truth or dare?”

“Truth,” she announces, sitting primly.

“All right,” Todd says. He is not sure if he is high or not from the joint but he wants to think that he is. “Okay, what’s the most embarrassing thing that ever happened to you?”

“Oh my God, I’ve got a great answer to that one.” Erin starts laughing and Todd smiles along. “One time, in study hall, me and my friends were updating the status on our Facebook pages, right? I had to run to the ladies’ due to some women’s trouble. That night, my Blackberry started ringing nonstop with these guys wanting to do some really gross things to me. Turns out I’d left myself logged in to Facebook and my jerk friends wrote as my status that I love to give blowjobs, with my phone number.”

She is laughing loudly now while Todd continues to smile along politely, wondering why she finds something so cruel to be so funny.

“Oh, man,” she adds. “That happens to everybody sooner or later, right? Okay, it’s your turn. Truth or dare?”

“Truth,” he says, hoping she will not ask him the same question.

“When was the first time you did it with a girl?”

Todd stammers briefly before inventing an elaborate story about his junior prom and how he scored with his date in the backseat of his friend’s car. His voice trails off. She can tell he is lying.

“It’s okay,” she says.

“Um,” he says.

His mind scrambles in search of something light and witty to say to recover the mood, but none is needed; Erin deftly rescues him.

“Want to see one of my cheers, Todd? A really good one?”

“Okay,” he tells her, feeling overwhelmed.

Erin jumps onto her feet, shakes off a sudden wave of laughter, and then stands erect with her arms stiff and muscles tight.

“Sharp and snappy,” she says. “One, two, three, here it is: Go Cougars!” She claps to the beat, keeping her hands under her chin. “Go Cougars! We are the Cougars, hey, we’re number one; our cougar roar has just begun.” She punches the air. “Roar!” She claps again. “Roar, roar! We are the Cougars, yeah, we’ll say it loud; we’re stepping up because we’re proud. Roar! Roar, roar! We are the best, all right, we’re here to win—”

Erin finishes a kick and flops onto the ground laughing. Todd claps his hands.

“Wow,” he says, his heart pounding with sexual excitement.

Outside the shack, somebody yells at them to keep it down, making her laugh even harder.

“Let’s pretend that was my dare,” she says, panting. “Now it’s your turn.”

“Dare,” he says.

“Kiss me.”

Todd was hoping for this. Truth or dare, after all, is a kissing game. He moves towards her on his hands and knees, feeling lightheaded and breathless, unsure of where to begin. He has never kissed a girl before. She meets him halfway. It is like falling into a warm pool, smooth and jolting. He kisses her for several moments, holding her shoulders. He probes her tongue with his, wondering if he is doing this right. His right knee, pressed against a pebble on the ground, is beginning to hurt, but he ignores it, afraid to move. His erection strains against his jeans, sending waves of pain and pleasure through his body. Finally, she pushes him away.

He falls out of the kiss, amazed.

“And,” she adds, “take off your shirt. I forgot to mention it’s a two-part dare.”

Still dizzy, he obeys automatically, then fidgets as she appraises him.

“No tattoos,” she observes. “Wow. My boyfriend has tats everywhere.”

Todd frowns, alarmed and jealous. He half expects a bunch of jocks to enter the shack pointing at him and laughing and congratulating her on setting him up for a fall.

“You have a boyfriend?” he says, trying to control his tone.

“He’s one of them . Outside.”

Well, then he’s not really your boyfriend anymore, he wants to say, but holds his tongue.

She smiles coyly at him and says, “Maybe I need a new boyfriend.”

He smiles back, thawing quickly.

“Dare,” she says.

“You too,” he says bravely.

Erin crosses her arms, hesitating with a teasing glance, then pulls her shirt over her head in one swift motion. Todd expects her to be wearing a bra but there is none. Her pert breasts are shining and perfect. Her smooth body burns in the candlelight. He stares at her in awe.

“Dare,” he whispers.

“Come here,” she says. “Kiss me again.”

As Wendy approaches the latrines, she turns her flashlight on and continues warily. Next to her, Jonesy does the same. She prefers to patrol by moonlight, letting their eyes adjust to the dark and becoming hunters instead of mere night watchmen, but the latrine area is dangerous at night even for cops, and a nearby canal is poorly marked by solar-powered landscape lights. A flare arcs into the sky over the horizon and she hears the snarl of distant small arms fire. The pickets have been busy tonight outside the camp. Then the shooting stops as suddenly as it began. Wendy radios in their position to Tyler, the gray-haired book reader back at the station.

Roger that. You guys be careful, now. Keep a sharp eye.

She smiles at the men’s protectiveness as she keys the walkie-talkie and says, “You, too.”

I most certainly will, young Wendy.

Another flare arcs over the distant shanties.

“Sounds like a real battle out there tonight,” Jonesy says, chewing loudly.

“Give me some of your gum.”

“What do I get?”

“Jonesy, my boyfriend could break you in half. And if he couldn’t, I could.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughs. “Can’t blame a guy for trying.”

She pops the piece into her mouth and begins gnawing on it with a vengeance.

Her third night on foot patrol with Unit 12, and she is already bored.

Last night, a little excitement: An explosion on the far side of camp, a flash in the sky followed by a boom and slight shock that she could feel in her feet. Outside her patrol territory, unfortunately. Turns out it was a homegrown crystal meth lab that blew sky high. She finds herself almost wishing something like that would happen here.

Flares burn as they fall across the distant sky. A machine gun begins rattling.

They walk along the edge of the canal, looking for planks that will allow them to cross. Their flashlight beams flicker along the rough ground. Somebody is playing a harmonica in the nearby shanties. A couple moans loudly, having loud sex in one of the shacks.

Jonesy chuckles.

“Guess you’re not the only ladies’ man around here,” Wendy says.

He laughs.

“Here’s the bridge,” he says. “Watch your step.”

They tramp over the planks and find themselves among the batteries of portable toilets.

“Police,” Wendy says loudly.

“Police coming through,” Jonesy says.