Apocalypse Ground Zero: Refusing To Leave Home

Chapter 337: The Dirt Moved First

Five people.

Apparently, one bottle of water had been passed around like a bottle of Jack and they were celebrating something.

By the time we reached the house near the entrance of the cul-de-sac, the five adults who had drunk from it were waiting inside with the front door open. Old Chen had convinced them to stay in the living room, although the way one man paced behind the window suggested that agreement wasn’t going to last long.

The woman who had traded for the bottle sat on the edge of the couch beside her husband. Her sister and brother-in-law had taken two dining chairs, while an older worker stood near the kitchen doorway with his arms crossed.

All five looked normal.

That would’ve been much more comforting if Tang Mei hadn’t also looked normal until something moved beneath her throat.

Old Chen stopped near the driveway and pointed toward the house. "They say they only tasted it. No one drank an entire cup."

"Wonderful," I replied. "Maybe the bugs respect portion sizes."

Lingyun made a quiet sound beside me that might’ve been laughter, but Zhenlan was already studying the plants around the house.

They had left a wide gap around the yard.

The vines normally wrapped around the porch railing had pulled themselves onto the roof. Flowers leaned through the fence toward the neighbor’s house, while the grass had flattened away from the front path.

Not one plant reached toward the five people inside.

That was the closest thing I had to a test, which was unfortunate because most medical equipment didn’t hiss, bite strangers, or climb onto rooftops when it disliked the results.

"They’re reacting to all five," Zhenlan murmured.

"I noticed."

The husband inside heard us through the open door and stopped pacing. "Reacting how?"

I looked at the empty yard around him. "Use your imagination."

He stepped toward the entrance, but Chenghai moved onto the path and rested both hands on the top of his shovel. He didn’t raise it or threaten anyone. He simply stood there looking like a man who had already dug one trench today and wouldn’t mind adding another.

The husband stopped behind the doorway. "We feel fine."

"I’m sure Pei Shuo said the same thing."

The woman on the couch pulled her hands into her lap. "Who’s Pei Shuo?"

"One of the people who brought you the water." I stayed outside the yard, where the plants had decided it was safe enough to remain near me. "He died on the road, and then we watched several things crawl out of his body."

The older worker near the kitchen doorway shifted his arms. "The runners didn’t say anything about that."

"They didn’t know."

"Then how do you know the water caused it?" the husband demanded. His voice carried easily through the open door, loud enough to draw curtains aside in several nearby houses.

I glanced toward the movement. "Tell everyone watching from the windows to stay inside unless they want to join the experiment."

Old Chen turned and lifted his radio, passing the warning along to the workers helping block the cul-de-sac.

The woman’s sister leaned forward in her chair. "What experiment?"

"The one where we wait to see whether you’re eaten from the inside out."

Her face lost some color.

Zhenlan moved closer until his shoulder nearly touched mine. "Gentler," he murmured.

"I am being gentle."

He looked at me.

"I haven’t set the house on fire."

He grunted in reply, but didn’t say anything after that.

The husband stared at both of us, apparently deciding that our version of comfort needed work. "You can’t keep us trapped in here because someone else got sick."

"I can when your grass would rather die than touch you."

He looked toward the yard for the first time.

The flattened plants were difficult to ignore once someone pointed them out. The grass nearest the porch bent away from the steps, and one vine had stretched across two roof tiles to put more distance between itself and the open window.

The woman who had traded for the bottle rubbed both palms over her thighs. "I don’t feel sick."

"What do you feel?" Zhenlan asked.

She looked at him, then back at me. "Normal."

"That wasn’t the question," I replied.

Her fingers slowed against her trousers. "I’m a little hungry."

Her husband turned toward her. "You ate."

"I know."

"How hungry?" Zhenlan continued, his tone calm enough that she answered him instead of arguing with me.

The woman glanced toward the kitchen. "Not starving. I just feel like I should eat again."

Another woman pressed her fingers to the side of her throat.

I pointed toward her. "How long have you been doing that?"

She dropped her hand immediately. "Doing what?"

"Rubbing your throat."

"I don’t know. It’s dry."

The older worker shifted near the kitchen doorway and reached toward a cup sitting on the counter. "Mine too. Is there any reason we can’t drink our own water?"

"Yes," I answered. "I don’t know what’s inside you, what makes it leave, or whether giving it more water is the equivalent of feeding a pet."

His hand stopped halfway to the cup.

"I’m thirsty," he complained, looking at Old Chen as though a more reasonable adult might rescue him. "I’ve been asking for water since before she arrived."

Old Chen didn’t move. "Wait."

The older worker muttered something under his breath, but he stepped away from the counter.

There it was.

One was hungry after eating. One couldn’t stop rubbing her throat. Another was already desperate for water.

The five of them might’ve looked healthy, but the plants had made their opinion clear before any of us arrived.

I looked toward the woman on the couch. "You’re staying inside this house. Food can be left on the porch, but no one comes in and none of you come out. Don’t share cups, don’t touch anyone outside, and try not to bleed on anything."

One of the men frowned from the dining chair. "For how long?"

"Until we figure out whether the things inside Tang Mei came from the water."

"And if they did?"

I glanced at Lingyun’s hands.

A small flame appeared over one finger.

The man followed my gaze and stopped asking questions.

The husband did not.

He stepped out onto the porch, anger pulling his face tight. "You have no authority to lock us inside our own house."

The plants around the yard reacted immediately.

They didn’t attack him.

They fled.

The last vine touching the porch railing tore itself free and snapped back toward the roof, while the grass bent flat as he crossed the first step.

That was worse than if they had tried to eat him.

"Go back inside," I warned.

"No." He came down another step, pointing toward the entrance of the cul-de-sac. "My wife traded for a bottle of water. That doesn’t make us prisoners."

"It makes you five people carrying something my plants refuse to touch."

"You don’t know that for sure."

"I’m starting to hate that sentence."

He reached the bottom of the porch and started across the yard.

Chenghai shifted into his path, but the man veered toward the side gate instead. The plants offered no help. Every vine and flower continued pulling away, leaving him a clear route through the yard.

Yuche lifted one hand.

Metal tore free from the porch railing and wrapped around the man’s waist before he reached the gate. Another strip caught his wrists, pinning his arms against his sides without touching his skin directly.

The man shouted and twisted against the bands. "Let me go!"

"Stop fighting," Yuche replied, his voice calm as he pulled the man back toward the porch.

"You can’t do this!"

Yuche looked down at him. "I already did."

The struggle became more violent. The man kicked at the dirt and threw his weight against the metal, forcing Yuche to tighten the band around his waist.

His wife rushed to the doorway but stopped before stepping outside. "Please don’t hurt him."

"He’s hurting himself," I replied.

The man jerked his head forward, trying to pull free, and blood suddenly ran from one nostril.

He froze.

So did everyone else.

The first drop slid over his lip and fell from his chin.

Zhenlan raised one hand, but the blood had already fallen beyond the edge of his wind.

The drop of blood landed in the dirt.

The dirt moved first.