The Undead Survivor Series (Book 2): Undead and the City

by Radke, K. E.

  In the back, still partially hidden in the examination room Lincoln spied the fourth cart full of food. He pushed the third cart giving it momentum before jumping over the desk and maneuvering the fourth cart around the file cabinets.

  The cart’s wheels refused to cooperate with Lincoln’s speed and he saw three cannibals pass the doorway in the corridor. Sweat dripped down his temples and blood pulsed in his ears. If they left him, he’d hole up in the office. There’s no way he’d starve.

  He poked the cart over the threshold with his Glock aimed and shot the immediate flesh eaters to his right. On his left six more were turning around to search for the new noise. He was surrounded and his feet automatically took a step back.

  Noah popped out from around the bend and yelled, “He’s here!” Sprinting down the hall, Noah growled and swung the machete dispatching the ghouls one by one.

  Someone yelled, “Behind you!” Lincoln rapidly peered over his shoulder and pushed the chomper’s shoulder back so its jaws snapped at air. Before it had a second chance Lincoln shot it in the face. Two more bullets found their target before he swiveled around to find the cart gone.

  Hisses, growls and grunts roared in the corridors like a bypassing train. Voices were competing with the din but nothing comprehendible to Lincoln’s ears. Movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention and he watched Noah roll down the cleared path with his foot on the cart yelling viciously, “Say hello to my little friend!”

  Bullets caught half their marks. Lincoln ran after him, only stopping to fire if a ghoul got too close. Before they turned the corner, a man helping the others was shoved into the cart path and Noah tried to slow down. The stranger stood in the middle of the path with his hands over his head like an idiot ready to be mowed over.

  Noah shuffled to stop just inches away from hitting the man and shoved the cart at him shouting like an officer in the military, “Move your ass! There’s no time to stand around!”

  People were screaming orders when Lincoln and Noah ran toward the safety of the staircase. Corpses surrounded them on all sides and the last cart was being held out in the hallway because there was no space for it in the stairwell. Two empty carts were stacked on top of the piling bodies as a barrier for the hoard headed straight for them.

  They joined Heath and the vet on the front lines to defend the area until everyone finished unloading the supplies.

  

  The problem was obvious when the men tried to shove the third cart inside the staircase. Gretta, one of the original volunteers, had been pushed aside halfway up the stairs while the men tried to fit all three carts on the landing. From her view, she already knew it wouldn’t work.

  The carts were safe, but now there wasn’t room for anything else. Including all the people still fighting right outside the door. Everyone was about to die—they just didn’t know it yet. Jule was stuck in a corner and couldn’t reach the stairs even if she wanted to because the food cart blocked her path.

  For the first time since she’d been stuck in the hospital, Gretta took control and shouted, “Stop!”

  The arguing men didn’t stop to listen to her, so she started unloading the cart closest to her, placing everything to one side of the steps. Eventually she cleared it all by herself and shouted over the din, “Get this cart out of here! And help me unload the next one or no one’s going to be able to get inside here anytime soon!” Her voice bellowed with authority, and Cliff, her husband, realized she was right. He started haphazardly unloading the water cart, throwing it anywhere with space.

  “Stack it against the wall or there still won’t be any room for anyone to come inside!” Gretta yelled at him in a frustrated voice.

  Sweat dripped down their faces as they huffed, straining to move faster. After screaming orders relentlessly, the noise traveled up the stairwell. Faces peeked down at them from above and eventually bounded down to help take the supplies upstairs after Gretta threatened to keep it all.

  More recruits flooded the stairwell and the line of people stretched all the way up to the fourth floor. Everyone whooped with excitement when the third cart finally made it to safety.

  “We have another cart on its way!” the vet shouted before the AK erupted again.

  The couple gritted their teeth and started hauling supplies off the third cart. Exhaustion seeped through their movements and Jule felt guilty for being too weak to help. She’d stayed quietly out of the way, but they needed someone faster to unload the cart. From her corner, Jule commanded loudly, “Gretta and Cliff need help! Let’s empty the cart so we can get everyone inside.”

  People swarmed the staircase moving cans, and water bottles. It took less than three minutes before the emptied cart was pushed back into the corridor. Everyone waited to see if that was the last one to unload.

  The vet stumbled into the cart first. Out of ammo for his AK, he let the other men take his spot on the front line. He’d taken the H&K Gretta had before she disappeared to help with the supplies. Gretta held the stairwell door open and hollered, “Are there anymore?”

  Stacked bodies filled the small hallway, some areas were knee deep. Some arms and legs still twitched under the weight on top of them, ghouls that were struck down but not dead. He shook his head and yelled, “Time to pull back!” The vet replaced Gretta’s hand and held the door open.

  Heath lifted the third empty cart and roared like a madman, “Move out of the way! Everyone get inside!” The men pulled back and the cart flew in the air until it collided with the wall of ghouls.

  He pulled on the baseball mom’s arm to get her attention and almost got his head knocked off. She sung at the top of her lungs ‘Take Me Out to the Ballgame’ with tears running down her face freely as she split every head in sight. Ghouls went down one by one with every swing she took. Blood sprayed in arcs on anyone in the vicinity.

  The wall Heath built with bodies and carts crashed to the ground as the hoard trampled over it. He examined the area to make sure no one was left behind. Snapping jaws and rotting hands reached for him. Growls and hisses filled the hall.

  Heath pulled the trigger on a cannibal right in front him only to realize he’d run out of bullets. It tripped on a limb at its feet and Heath held the AK between him and the yellow teeth inches away. The rotting breath rolled over him and he gave one last battle cry using the AK to push it back into the parasitic crowd. The herd fell like dominos.

  A hand yanked his arm in the right direction and he fled inside the stairwell. The door was pulled closed behind him and Lincoln stood off to the side squished between people staring at the small window in the door.

  The first ghoul’s bloodstained mouth opened, showing off its black gums and yellow teeth with pieces of tissue stuck between them. The hot breath fogged the window trying to bite them through the glass. Its tongue smashed into the window followed by several others. The weight of the group pushed the front-runners against the glass until they were stuck like dead bugs encrusted on a windshield.

  NINETEEN

  S econds ticked by as everyone stood stock-still. Eyes wandered around the tiny area wondering if anyone had been left behind. The thrashing behind the closed door showed the fate of someone lost in the chaos.

  Ragged breathing and muffled noises from the corridor were the only sounds heard for the first minute. Tension built as strangers made eye contact, the fear palpable, shifting from the threat beyond the wall to the immediate danger front and center.

  “Are y’all going to stare at each other or are we going to finish moving supplies?” Jule’s voice filtered down. Gretta had plucked her from the corner and helped her up the stairs to make more room for the fighters. “I think it’s fair that anyone who just risked their lives to feed us should take a break while the others bring up the supplies.”

  “My pack?” Lincoln questioned.

  “Safe and sound,” Jule replied.

  No one argued with her and people started shifting to let the group of fighters pass.
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br />   “There’s not a lot of room so if I get blood on anyone, I want you to know—it’s not mine,” Noah announced, his voice echoing.

  “If anyone was bit, let us know now,” the vet said in an authoritative voice as soon as he had space to turn around and block anyone else from going up.

  “Even if they are bit, they just saved our starving asses,” Jule said peering over the banister. “You can give them a full body scan up here.” Her tone was nonnegotiable, and the vet nodded in agreement. He continued up the stairs and the tired group followed.

  Lincoln, Noah and Heath were last to reach the fourth floor. The corridor was empty except for an elderly woman, and four children. The vet, baseball mom, Gretta and Cliff were crowded around a young, pretty woman in stained scrubs with Jule at her side.

  The air was clean on the fourth floor. It smelled fresh compared to the lower half of the building. Rooms lined up across the hall, some of the doors were closed. To the left, the corridor eventually became a semi-circular area with a reception desk against the back wall. It had more hallways attached to it and more room than the current hallway they were crowded in.

  As soon as the nurse glimpsed the three men, her dark brown eyes narrowed and landed coldly on Lincoln. Hatred emboldened her to stand right in front of him. She threatened maliciously, “If you threaten anyone, and I mean anyone again, I will kill you myself.”

  “Heather,” Lincoln guessed and by her facial expression knew he was right. She flicked a lock of black hair out of the way. “You couldn’t kill me if I put the gun in your hand and forced you to aim it at my head,” Lincoln retorted roughly brushing off her threat. “No one touches that food until I see both my mother and Wyatt, alive and well.”

  “The only people up here were the ones forced to stay behind,” Jule said signaling the kids to eat. “Russell, we’re going to need to ration.” The vet nodded and followed the children’s excitement to the pile of food.

  “I want to check for bite marks,” Heather said trying to block Lincoln’s group from going any further.

  Lincoln burst out laughing, “Be my guest.” He held out his arms, stained and dripping with blood. “Do you want me to spin for you?” he asked in an arrogant voice.

  “He has a point,” Noah said trying to keep the peace while Lincoln and Heather stared hatefully at each other.

  “The plumbing still works,” Heath interjected optimistically catching Lincoln’s attention. “We can visit Gloria and Wyatt on the way.” He didn’t wait to see if Lincoln would follow. Heath’s height was extremely intimidating, and with his grim face, no one wanted to challenge him in order to search for bite mark.

  Heather trailed behind them and shoved her way to the front as they took the curved path around the reception area that led to a corridor on the right. She blocked the entrance to Gloria’s room and insisted, “I’d rather you not contaminate my patient with whatever sludge is dripping off your body.”

  Lincoln watched Heather brace herself in the doorway. He could clearly see over her head, his mother’s chest rising and falling in a single bed. A comfy chair was set to the right of her with a rolling table next to it. The space was bare but efficient. Before he moved on, he asked, “She’s stable?”

  “She woke up hysterical, and very confused. Wyatt told me she has Alzheimer’s, and I gave her a small sedative because she was a danger to herself,” Heather explained.

  Lincoln tried to keep a blank face and turned his head when he felt the pain cracking through his expression. “And Wyatt?”

  “Did I hear my name?” Wyatt called happily from the room next door. The entire hall was secluded in the back for peace and quiet. Patient rooms lined the entire space.

  “I was able to put a real cast on him to keep the ankle set. He was in a lot of pain but with the drugs he’s—,” Heather explained before she was interrupted.

  “Feeling oh so good,” Wyatt finished for her. From the doorway they glimpsed Wyatt laid back with his eyes half open. He made a heart with his hands and pointed at the group. “Come. Come to me,” he raised his arms to embrace someone and everyone took a step back except Heather.

  “We’re real dirty right now,” Noah said quickly.

  “Heather said we’re not allowed inside,” Heath replied.

  “If you fucking touch me I will break your arms,” Lincoln grunted.

  “He’s so angry,” Wyatt tsked trying to find Lincoln. “The first hug has your name on it Link.”

  Lincoln grumbled ignoring Wyatt, “Now’s a good time to show me where I can rinse off.”

  

  Everyone covered in blood was allowed a five-minute shower and a bucket of water to wash their clothes. Noah glanced from the bucket to his clothes and surmised, “I think it’s easier to clean my clothes if I just stand in the shower with my clothes on.”

  “That’s the smartest thing you’ve ever said,” Lincoln agreed.

  Heath nodded and said, “I’ll go first.”

  They kept track of the time with knocks and for the first time ever enjoyed the smell of soap. Haley, the baseball mom, was sent in afterward to teach them how to wring their clothes and hang them up to dry. Lincoln also suspected they’d sent her to check for bite marks.

  She rolled her eyes, tears threatening to fall when they told her how they cleaned their clothes. “Boys will be boys. I guess you never grow out of it. Just remember you need soap for the smell.”

  The drugs given to Wyatt for his pain made him unbearably loving. Lincoln avoided him and everyone else by secluding himself in his mother’s room. He instantly fell asleep in the chair beside her bed and woke up to Heather checking her vitals.

  Rubbing his face, he began, “How is she—,” he never finished the question because the minute his hands left his face she was already gone. There was a blanket over his lap and he wondered who placed it there, disturbed by the fact he wasn’t stirred by their presence.

  The only light came from the randomly plugged nightlights charged by sunlight during the day. According to the hospital emergency protocols, the generator would last for about fifteen days. During the evacuation, the group that stayed behind explored the empty floors turning off everything after the generators kicked in.

  Hushed tones filtered into the silent room. Lincoln rose to his feet and glanced in the hall. Before he left to find Heather, Gloria’s voice bellowed in the room, “What are you doing here?” She glanced around the room confused. “What the hell am I doing here?”

  Lincoln swiveled around to his mother’s piercing glare and put his hands out in surrender, “They’re just checking—.” Heather shoved him out of the way.

  “I’ve been waiting for you to wake up,” Heather said cheerfully stepping in front of Lincoln.

  Gloria glared at her and said suspiciously, “Who are you?”

  “I’m your nurse. You got a bump on the head and I’m just here to make sure everything’s in working order,” Heather explained with a big smile. “Your son is here.” She pointed to Lincoln.

  Gloria glanced over at him hatefully, “Move the fuck out of the way so Lincoln can come inside.”

  “He-uh-he just went to get something out of the vending machine,” Lincoln answered. Heather glanced back and forth between them, the situation suddenly dawning on her.

  “Well I don’t have time for this. I need to get home and cook for the boy. God knows he eats everything in sight,” Gloria said more to herself. She kicked her legs over the bed and found her folded clothes sitting on the rolling table.

  “A little privacy,” she spat annoyed at Heather and Lincoln’s presence.

  “You need to sedate her again,” Lincoln muttered to Heather.

  “She doesn’t need to be sedated. She’s struggling with her memory but she seems perfectly healthy. What do you usually do in situations like these?” Heather argued.

  “She will tear up this hospital searching for a son that is not here,” Lincoln insisted quietly. His eyes never left his mother,
and he didn’t have time to explain anything to Heather with Gloria standing a few feet away.

  “What do you mean a son that’s not here?” Gloria inquired narrowing her eyes.

  “I lied. He’s not here. I left him at home,” Lincoln answered and regretted every word the moment he said it.

  “Home,” Gloria hissed the word. “You mean my house. The house I pay for. By myself.” The malicious expression shifted to complete shock and horror. She whispered, “You left him alone? You left my baby by himself?” Racing across the room, she shouted hysterically.

  His arms wrapped around her waist before she exited. Punches landed against his jaw and nails scratched his skin, but he held her firmly—took every strike with a blank face until her arms fell to her side and she collapsed in his arms. Heather was in shock with an empty syringe in her hand.

  She helped Lincoln set Gloria safely on the bed before he turned toward Heather yelling, “The next time I say sedate her, fucking sedate her!”

  “Careful. That almost sounds like a threat,” Heather said calmly, the tension was palpable, but he caught her eyes as they wavered over the doorway. The spilt second she took to spy the exit unsettled Lincoln. Although her blank face gave away nothing, she was terrified of him. Ready to fight like prey cornered by a predator. Fearful for her life.

  Every threat he spit over the walkie-talkie hung over his head like a bright, neon sign. Nausea rolled through his stomach as he stood beneath her judging gaze. She’d met a desperate man who was willing to save his mother at any cost—even if he’d been bluffing.

  “You’re scaring everyone,” Jule yawned in the doorway. Heather took the distraction as an opportunity and left. Jule shrugged her shoulders when no one offered an explanation, too sleepy to care.

  “Jule,” Lincoln said her name cautiously. She turned at his voice looking over her shoulder. “In the office, when I spoke to Heather and threatened you—.”

  Jule interrupted him with the ominous warning, “Don’t make this awkward Lincoln. We will never speak of what happened in those halls.”