I take it all in. “And what’s in the back, past the buildings?”
“The Backyard . . . don’t laugh. And don’t go there, either. The corridor at the back and the rooms above it are blocked off now, used to quarantine people recovering from the Pox, and as a morgue. Doc took over almost all the offices in the front wall to keep track of who came and went, and to monitor their condition, trying to stop infections before they spread.”
A man with a rifle walks past us, searching the horizon for Floraes. “And the guards will let me leave if I want to? Anytime?” Once I get to Ken, we’ll need to go straight to New Hope.
“Yup. Anytime. But you’d really choose hungry, flesh-eating creatures over a protected, walled complex?” He’s looking at me as if I’m crazy. “I’d take a prison full of criminals over the Floraes any day.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t have a three-hundred-pound sociopath named Tank sweet on you,” I say. Why would anyone stay here? But then, I have my sonic emitter, synth-suit, and Guardian gun, and I’ve been to trained to fight the Floraes. Any normal person would just want a place to escape Them. They would gladly trade the Floraes for a place with high walls, regardless of the people inside.
“What about you?” I ask. “Did you make your way here after all this started?”
“Actually, I was here when the infection broke out.” He looks at me, but I remain motionless. “I had this great shop in downtown Amarillo—you should have seen it. At first I just loved that I could practice my art, but after a while I got sick of the local crowd. A lot of people don’t understand that tattoos are more than just a thing people get when they’re drunk or want to look like a rebel. They can tell a story. It’s more than ink on skin; it’s a window into a person’s past. It’s an art.”
“So tattoos were your passion.”
“They still are. At the time I wanted to study everything I could about the art. Different techniques and practices. I had the start to an amazing portfolio. I was supposed to study tattoo practices in the Pacific Islands. I had my plane ticket and everything. Then my uncle suggested I start by studying some prison tats and their meanings.”
“Interesting form of research.”
“I almost brushed him off and said I’d do it after my trip. But my uncle can be very convincing. He said I should come here first, talk to some of the prisoners. It was only an hour’s drive, so I thought, why the hell not? I could visit him before I left the country and do some research. Kill two birds with one stone. I didn’t know being here would save my life. It’s like my uncle somehow knew what would happen. He was desperate to get me out here.”
“Were you scared?”
“No . . . My uncle helped me out. Also everyone liked that I was a professional tattoo artist. Anyone with tattoos wants to show them off, especially if they let everyone know what a badass you are.” He smiles. “I’m not going to say it wasn’t tough at first, though. Everyone was scared of what was going on. Some guards went to go find their families. The Warden decided to let the prisoners out. He said anyone who wanted to leave could go. A lot ran.”
“But they’re dangerous criminals. . . .”
“Amy, it was the end of the world. The Warden said that the criminals weren’t any more dangerous than the Floraes. And with everyone dead, who was left for them to hurt?”
“I was left out there. There are others. . . . Not many, but—”
“Look, my uncle isn’t exactly a stand-up guy. . . . He knew the prison wasn’t going to be getting any new food shipments. He thought he could get rid of some people. The problem was a lot of the worst criminals stayed. The ones who left were mostly in for petty crimes.”
“Did they know the danger?”
“Some didn’t want to believe it. People were saying aliens, others said zombies. Some of the prisoners thought it was bullshit, or maybe they just wanted out and thought they were bad enough or strong enough to survive. I went up the stairs and walked the top of the wall. I saw for myself. One by one the Floraes killed them.
“Except no one was calling them Floraes yet, just creatures. The monsters were everywhere. The guards tried to help, shooting to clear a way for people to escape, but it was no use. That’s when we found out people could change if they were bitten. One guy started turning into a Florae while he was being fed on.” He lowers his voice. “Some tried to get back in, but we couldn’t let them. We were all so scared of the Floraes getting inside. It would have been a bloodbath. I haven’t left the prison since I came here.” He shrugged. “There’s nothing for me out there anymore.”