The Last Alive

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The Last Alive Page 3

by H. L. Wampler


  "What are you going to do with all that infected blood?" I glanced at it nervously.

  "We're heading to the lab and having a tech look at it right now."

  "Shouldn't the hospital be evacuated?"

  "I'll call and tell security to get started as soon as we get to the lab. This blood is the most important thing. It needs put under a microscope and analyzed. Plus, I've had enough of the ED."

  "Okay," I said absently as he pulled me through the maze of a hospital to a small door at the end of a long corridor.

  He waved one of the cards on his badge in front of a black box and a little buzz sounded. He pushed the door open but didn't wait for it to close on its own. He threw his body against the door slamming it shut. He leaned his head against the steel breathing heavily while I stood there biting my lip.

  "Does this thing automatically lock?" he shouted at the techs across the lab.

  "Uh, yeah." They looked at us like we were crazy. "What's wrong?"

  "Stop whatever you're doing and look at this." He pulled out the tubes of blood and placed them on a counter.

  "We're really backed up, doc. I have four stat lab draws that need looked at right now," one tech protested.

  "Right now, those don't matter. This does. It could mean saving humanity."

  Everyone looked at him skeptically then at me.

  "He's right. There are two zombies in the hospital. Maybe more by now."

  "Zombies?" A girl sitting in a corner asked.

  "Yes, zombies," Nathan told her.

  A man with shaggy hair blinked his eyes slowly. "You mean brain eating zombies?"

  "Isn't it too early for Halloween jokes?" a guy off to the left asked.

  "No joke and I don't think they care if they get brains or your liver," Nathan said.

  He gave each tech a tube than sat down at an empty microscope himself. "Grab those slides over there for me."

  "Sure." I shuffled over and grabbed a container of long, thin glass plates. I hoped they were the slides.

  He picked one up and dropped the blood on slide after slide, staring through the eyepiece mumbling things to himself.

  "Hey, doc?" the corner girl asked.

  "What?" He didn't even look up.

  "Where did you get this?" She looked confused and horrified.

  "It is blood from a nurse who died in the ED about half-an-hour ago. Well, died then came back to life, sort of. Why?"

  "I've never seen a blood sample like it."

  "I know neither have I," he muttered.

  "What is so spectacular about the blood?" I wasn't entirely sure if I wanted the answer.

  "Take a look." Nathan got off the stool and paced the room.

  I took his spot and stared into the eye piece. I had no idea what I was looking at. "What is it?"

  "It's the blood from Rose."

  "Okay, so what am I looking at?"

  "The aggressive nature of whatever the virus is." Nathan took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes.

  "What?"

  "Whatever the virus is attacks the blood which makes its way to the brain," Nathan started. "Perhaps she turned so quickly because her bite was bad. Your sister took more time because it was just a small bite. The larger the bite the faster you turn. The smaller your bite the longer it takes."

  "Perhaps?" I asked.

  "I don't have any samples of the brain, so I don't know."

  "Are you sure it attacks the brain?" a lab tech asked.

  "If people are coming back to life I'm sure." He replaced his glasses and continued pacing.

  "I still don't understand what's going on. How did this even start?"

  "I have no idea how it started but it's transferred from person to person via saliva and most likely blood. Look." Nathan grabbed a small scalpel that sat near the cart with glass slides and sliced the tip of his finger. I watched as he smeared his blood on it and put it under the microscope.

  "Look at that."

  "Okay." I put my eye to the eyepiece and saw some big differences between Nathan's bright red blood and the nurse's dark purple. "So, what am I looking for?"

  Nathan got a long eye dropper and stuck it into the tube of infected blood. "Don't take your eyes off it. Or touch it."

  He dropped a bit of that onto his clean blood, and I couldn't believe what I saw. The infected blood invaded Nathan's healthy blood. His blood cells were quickly taken over and pretty much devoured leaving nothing but the infected to multiply. I sat in stunned silence.

  "So, the bad over takes the healthy?" I asked still watching as the infected blood searched for more to eat.

  "Pretty much." Nathan sat beside me shaking his head.

  "We have to call someone." Another guy stared into the eye piece of a microscope in front of him.

  "Who do you call about something like this?" I bit my lip and furrowed my brows. Who would handle a zombie virus?

  "CDC," Nathan said, finally looking up.

  "And tell them what exactly?" I inquired.

  "That we have a highly infectious disease spreading through bite that is fatalish."

  "Fatalish? How do you tell the Center for Disease Control that there is a zombie virus spreading through a hospital in freaking Pittsburgh?" I asked incredulously.

  "I have to. They must believe. If they don't and they don't send a team there is no hope for humanity," he whispered before pursing his lips into a tight line.

  "Call security first and get this place evacuated." I wondered how many downstairs were already infected.

  He picked up a phone sitting on the desk next to him and spoke softly but quickly into the receiver. He argued with whoever was on the other end but hung up quickly. Within seconds I heard a page overhead about some code and to quickly locate an exit. By time I looked at him he was back on the phone. He was arguing with someone again. Every now and then he'd shout, "I'm not kidding, you ass! Put me on with someone else." He rubbed his temples. I noticed Nathan did that a lot. I was almost surprised not to see a permanent indentation of his thumb and pointer finger there. "Yes, I'm serious. This is an emergency." And my favorite was, "If someone from there is not here this is going to spread outside of Pittsburgh within days and then undead people are going to eat living people at an alarming rate. Get moving now!"

  Slamming down the receiver, he paced around the room again. His face beat red, the vein in his neck popped out, and he mumbled to himself. I would lie if I said I wasn't terrified and anxious. I bit my nails while watching the young doctor. He had so much thrown onto his shoulders so suddenly. When he stopped he looked at me with such desperation and confusion.

  "We have to see your sister. What floor is she on?" He grabbed my hand again dragging me across the lab.

  "Six. But I don't even know if she's still there."

  "Where would she be? I don't think anyone knows what to do with her," he said.

  "I guess, but wouldn't they put her in an isolation room or something?"

  "If they think to do that. They may think she's just a violent patient."

  "A violent patient who died and came back to life? Come on, Nathan."

  "Let's just check." He paused at the door and looked at all the lab techs. "Go home. Pack up your families and leave town."

  "Leave town? Where are we supposed to go?"

  "Somewhere safe. I don't know," he said.

  "Where exactly is safe?"

  "Anywhere that's not here. Go find a cave or a cabin in the mountains." Nathan pulled me out of the lab and down the hall.

  "What about us?" I asked blinking back tears.

  "We'll get to safety soon."

  I felt like a complete mess and was on the verge of panic. I wanted nothing more than to go home and hug my parents. "Soon? Why not now?"

  "There's more we have to do."

  "Like what, Nathan? I don't want to be in this hospital any longer than what I have to."

  "I know, and we won't."

  "If you know, then let's leave." I begged pulling at hi
m as we pushed through a set of doors.

  "You can go if you want." He released my hand and started up the stairs. "I'm not going to force you to stay."

  "I'm not going to leave you here alone. I'd be a huge asshole if I did that."

  "Then you're going to have to wait until I finish what I have to do." There was such finality in his tone.

  He paused on a landing three floors up and extended his hand to me. I hesitated for a moment. Biting my lip, I looked around unsure if I wanted to leave or stay with the stranger. Sighing heavily, I reached out for him not realizing just how important that man would become to me.

  Chapter Three

  What Life?

  I rolled off the old bed and dragged myself up. The nap had been restless and nothing, but images of my zombie sister flooded my mind. I stood in front of the dirty window watching the sun set beyond the border. It sank below the remains of the city casting purple and orange streaks across the sky. Despite where we were and what was going on the sunset was beautiful. Just another day in paradise, I bitterly thought to myself. I hated the rare quiet moments I got to myself. I felt so alone and ended up lost in my memories. I glanced at the photo of Becca and me from years ago that sat on the milk crate substituting for a night stand. I remembered the day that photo was taken. We were on our first spring break. The beach was beautiful, the sand hot, the water warm, and the sun kissed our skin. That was one of the best days of our lives. We were so happy. So carefree. Becca’s warm smile could brighten any room she walked into. Her happiness was infectious. Now Becca was dead. Well she was undead, and she was still infectious. I wanted nothing more than to go back to that day. I wished I could have told her how hard the past four years had been without her.

  "Emma? Where are you, Emma?" My mother's panicked voice floated up from the small kitchen.

  "I'm up here, mom," I called down.

  "Don't do that," she replied sternly.

  "Don't do what? I'm just up here. Don't worry. I'm not going to venture out of the city limits from my room. There isn't some mystical portal from my closet to the rest of the world." I stood at the top of the stairs looking down at the woman.

  "I know. I just worry," she said quietly.

  The zombiepocalypse sucked her of life more so than the rest of us. She'd lost one child, the other was there when it happened, and she had no idea what happened to the rest of the family. Dad should be as affected, but he did a better job hiding his feelings than mom. Her tired face aged her way beyond her forty-eight years.

  "You don't have to, Mom." I tried to reassure her.

  "I know." She furrowed her brow and wiped her hands on the worn apron around her waist.

  It was the one Becca and I got her for Mother's Day six years ago. At one point it had been pink with small blue flowers on it. Now it was nothing more than a faded rag with strings. She sighed heavily and walked away. I could hear the clinking of dishes as she finished cleaning up from dinner. I went to the tattered mattress lying on the barren floor. The faded purple comforter smoothed and folded over nicely was mom's mild attempts at making the old building a home; but it wasn't. The remains of that building would never be home. I craved the wide-open spaces of our farm. I stared out the window again. The lighters went around to the street lamps and the occasional barrel fire. Now-a-days it was the only light we had at night. Electricity had been long gone. Indoor plumbing was unfortunately gone. Hot showers were on-existent. The luxuries of life we had before the zombiepocalypse were nothing but a distant memory. What few belongings we could squeeze into our suitcases was all we had in the entire world, and our two pets. Sadie, my German shepherd, lay near me snoozing peacefully and Muffin, my fat cat was perched on the window sill. Her tail twitched, and her ears were alert. Every now and then a low growl escaped her throat.

  "Calm down, Muffin. It's okay here. Nothing can get us here. We're safe," I said scratching the cats head.

  She purred in response pushing up on my hand. I looked down at the street and watched as people filed into the many buildings of what remained of downtown Pittsburgh. Those of us who survived the first wave of infection took up refuge in the city when we were overrun on the outskirts. Two sides were blocked off from the world by dark, murky rivers. The only area left connecting us to the outside world was thoroughly protected by police, military, and armed civilians. Of course, the reinforced blockade didn’t hurt. The bridges leading to the city were blown up at the beginning to prevent any of the undead from coming over. Four years. My twenty-fourth birthday just passed, and we were twenty when Becca got sick. She’s still out there somewhere. At least I think she is. I didn't kill her. Who can kill their sister? Even if they were a flesh-eating zombie. I thought I saw her last year at the border, but they all look the same after a while. So, I can't be sure it was her. I closed my eyes and sighed heavily. Of all the people that I'd lost over time I missed Becca the most.

  "Emma, Meaghan is here," my dad called up, bringing me out of my little daze.

  "Thanks, Dad. I'm coming down," I hollered, wiping away the tears that had crept up on me.

  She'd been my best friend before the shit storm hit, and she was the only one of my friends left after. Next to my sister, Meaghan was the one person who knew me best. We were partners on the force, and we remained partners now. She stood in the small kitchen talking to my mother. Her long black hair was pulled up into a messy bun and her pale skin shone in the light of the fireplace. Dirt smudged her cheeks and the knees of her jeans were ripped. I noticed a small gash on her elbow with dried blood on it. I looked at her and arched my eyebrows. She subtly shook her head and pursed her lips. Damn that girl! She left the city alone!

  "Um, let's get going," I said softly.

  "Sure." She smiled at me.

  "I'll be back soon," I told my parents.

  "Why do you have to go out? It's nighttime," Mom said while wiping a mug that had long been dried.

  "Mom, I'm inside a fortified city. Nothing is going to happen. Not to mention I am the most senior police officer," I said, kissing her forehead.

  "Just because you're most senior doesn't mean you have to remain a police officer. I really don't think you should leave," she said again.

  "The girl will be fine. It is her job. She is one of those who keep us safe. Stop worrying," Dad said, stuffing tobacco into his pipe.

  He paid a small fortune for the luxury of smoking. We didn't care. The smell of the old pipe was relaxing. It smelled like home. It reminded us of normal. Every time he lit up I could hear Becca telling him how bad it was for his lungs. As if that mattered now.

  "Please don't be out too late," Mom stressed.

  Her frazzled expression never changed. Astray strand of her now grey hair stuck out in front of her ear.

  "I'll be okay, Mom." I tucked the hair behind her ear and gave her a quick kiss and hug before ducking out the door.

  We walked down the street a few blocks before I said anything.

  "Okay, Meaghan, what happened?" I eyed her shoddier than usual appearance.

 

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