Blood Soaked and Contagious by James Crawford Page A

to scout around a little bit.
    There were four of us. There was one someone observing us, at the very least. The fact that this stranger allowed him or herself to laugh while listening to us via the house’s ductwork pointed towards inexperience. Our major unanswered question concerned the spying itself. Was this person transmitting or reporting to someone, or were they simply there to make sure that Baj and Jaya didn’t leave?
    We simply didn’t know and wouldn’t until something tipped the balance somewhere. It was Shawn who came up with the idea, and we were all pretty surprised with the simplicity of the solution. The whole thing hinged on the spy being an observer, not a reporter. Although Shawn did point out that if he’s transmitting data, then we’re all in worse trouble to begin with, and cornering this person would make little difference in the outcome of things.
    The simple plan looked like this: Shawn and I would leave at about the same time, as though the evening had come to a pleasant end, having made no clear decisions on what the next meeting with Hightower would bring. Shawn would head to the backyard, and I’d wait somewhere out front. One way or another (unless this jackass could fly), he’d have to pass one of us if he was flushed out.
    Jaya and Baj would have to do the bush beating to stimulate our little friend. With any luck, being made aware that his presence had been noted would be enough to make him bail.
    We brought the conversation back around to Hightower.
    “I don’t think I can turn him down,” Baj said, as he lowered his spoon to the table.
    “That might mean the end of everything, man. I mean, I know it gives us time and a chance to fight back, but,” Shawn should have been an actor, “ human cattle ?” His delivery of the last two words was so perfectly outraged and left me hoping that someone would start a community theater. The man needed to play Hamlet.
    Jayashri chimed in, “As much as I hate to say it, I think there might be less wholesale slaughter that way. I know Bajali is concerned for the karma of this decision, but even livestock must be cared for. The infected would not have perfect or wonderful lives, but at least they would be alive and make the best of their situation.”
    I don’t know. Jayashri had that even tone that could convince anyone of anything. I was nearly swayed then.
    “Look. You two need to do what you need to do. I don’t have to agree with it,” I said, sounding carefully cynical and petulant, “but if I get infected, I will take out as many of those fuckers as I can before they cart me away. I have to go,” and I did the best acting of my life, “but whatever you do, I’ll miss you both.”
    Baj and Jaya made sad noises and rushed forward to embrace me. We were all doing a fabulous job of method acting and feeling the moment. When they released me, I walked out the front door, down the steps, and fucking sprinted to the hardware store.
    When I got there, I snagged my .45 and the Man Scythe. I loaded up and sprinted back to the front porch of the vacant house next door to Baj and Jaya’s home.
    About the time I got my breath back, I heard Shawn bellow something. I pulled the scythe but didn’t open the blade and walked down the porch steps.
    Running feet. Two sets. One sounded a little bit heavier than the other.
    I had a sensei once tell me you could get away with having perfect timing if your technique was a little off, but you could never have perfect technique with bad timing and expect success. In that moment, I wanted timing more than any technique I have ever learned.
    Running. Running. Now.
    I executed a strike with the body of the Man Scythe, moving forward and dropping to one knee as I swung. Time slowed down, but I felt more than I saw the handle hit the runner. I’d intended the impact to occur above the kneecap on his trailing leg. I got more than I planned for. Goodie!
    There was a cracking noise and the sensation of