Nurse Alissa vs. the Zombies (Book 2): Escape

by Baker, Scott M.

  “That’s supposed to be a recommendation?” Nathan joked. He finished splitting the log.

  “What are the chances of me splitting some?” asked Steve. “I could use some exercise.”

  “Not with that hand.”

  “Come on. I can use it.”

  Nathan shook his head. “Alissa and Miriam would have my ass.”

  Steve meowed and then made the sound of a whip cracking.

  “Damn right I am.” Nathan picked up the wood and headed for the porch. “I’m going to get a beer. You want one?”

  “No, thanks.”

  Steve waited until his friend had dumped the logs into the pile and entered the cabin. He could do this. Shit, he needed to do this. It had not been lost on him that, ever since he got wounded in the hand, he had been the one left to babysit the kids while the others gathered up supplies and transportation in Dover and investigated Chris at the cabin. He was wounded, not crippled. He had to show them.

  Stepping over to the stump, Steve placed a full log on it and hoisted the axe above his head. He carefully lined up the blade with the log and let the axe drop. Because of his weakened right hand, he could not keep the axe steady. The blade veered right, missed the log and stump, and imbedded itself in his right lower thigh. He bellowed from the pain as he dropped to the ground and propped himself against the stump. Terror replaced pain when Steve saw blood spurting from the wound.

  Nathan rushed out holding a FAL, expecting to find deaders descending on the area. When he saw his friend on the ground, a large pool of blood forming under his leg, he pushed open the door to the cabin.

  “Alissa, Steve’s hurt. He needs medical assistance.”

  Nathan rushed over to Steve, unbuckling his belt and pulling it through the loops. He crouched, wrapped the belt around Steve’s upper right leg, put the end through the buckle, and yanked it tight. Steve gasped. Nathan continued until the belt could go no further, pushing the artery against the bone and stopping the flow of blood.

  “Oh my God.” Miriam dropped to her knees beside her husband. “What happened?”

  Steve inhaled between clenched teeth. “I tried chopping some wood and the axe slipped.”

  Alissa ran over with a trauma bag and gently moved Miriam out of the way. “What happened?”

  “He was chopping wood and accidentally cut an artery,” said Nathan.

  “Good move stopping the bleeding.”

  “It’s not going to hold once I release the pressure on the belt.”

  “I know.” Alissa removed a tourniquet from the kit and secured it around Steve’s leg above the belt. “It’s all set.”

  Nathan removed his belt and slid it back on as Alissa placed a sterile bandage over the wound, taping it in place.

  “Let’s bring him inside. I can work on him there.”

  “Work on me?” asked Steve.

  “Surgery.”

  “What can I do?” asked Miriam.

  “Get the door for us.” Alissa placed the strap of the trauma kit over her shoulder and positioned herself by Steve’s legs. She made eye contact with Nathan. “Grab his arms and lift on three.”

  “Is this going to hurt?” Steve asked.

  “Badly.”

  “Ready when you are,” said Nathan.

  “One. Two. Three.”

  Steve screamed when they lifted him. Alissa and Nathan carried him across the yard, up the steps, and into the cabin.

  “Dad!” Little Stevie ran over to hug his father.

  “Stay back.” Alissa said it firmly but gently. “You can hug your father later.”

  “Is he going to be okay?” asked Kiera.

  “Yes. Let me do my job. Miriam?”

  “Yes?”

  “Clean off the dining room table.”

  Miriam and Kiera ran over and cleaned off the surface. Alissa and Nathan placed Steve on the table. He groaned. Alissa checked the bandages. Blood had soaked through but at least the bleeding had slowed.

  She caught Miriam’s attention. “Stay with him while I scrub up.” Then to Kiera. “Get my case with the surgical supplies.”

  As Kiera raced upstairs, Alissa headed for the kitchen, ordering Nathan to join her.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Preparing for surgery.” Alissa turned on the hot water faucet, testing the flow until it reached the correct temperature.

  “Are you serious?”

  “I stopped the blood flow, but we can’t keep the tourniquet on forever otherwise he’ll lose the leg. I’m going to suture the arteries.”

  “Do you know how to?”

  “I’ve assisted doctors before in the ER when they’ve done the procedure.” Alissa wet her hands and began soaping up. She motioned to the sink. “Come on.”

  “Sorry?”

  “Scrub up. You’re going to assist me.”

  “I have no idea what I’m doing.”

  “Weren’t you medically trained?”

  “To deliver babies and do triage. Not surgery.”

  “Congratulations. You’ve been promoted. What are you waiting for?”

  Nathan rolled up his sleeves and joined in. By the time they both returned to the dining room Kiera had retrieved the surgical supply kit and opened it. Alissa selected a package of latex gloves, opened them, and slid them on.

  “Kiera, get me the vodka, please.”

  The teenager ran off and came back a few seconds later with the bottle, handing it to Alissa.

  “Is that to clean the wound?” asked Steve.

  “Yes.” She unscrewed the top and handed it to Steve. “It’s also anesthesia.”

  Taking the bottle, Steve took a large gulp every few seconds, drinking down a third of it before giving it back. As he did, Alissa removed from both kits two clips, three needles, and surgical thread. She threaded the three needles before dousing them and the clips with vodka. Alissa removed the bandages, revealing the wound. She held the bottle over the wound.

  “Are you ready?”

  Steve nodded. When she poured the vodka on the wound, he groaned from deep in his gut and bit his lip so hard it bled. Miriam held his hand.

  Alissa worked quickly. She secured one clip two inches from the end of both sections of severed artery and then stitched the ends shut, making two rows of sutures on each section to ensure they would hold. Steve passed out from the pain before she had finished the second set. When completed, she removed both clips and then placed her hand on the tourniquet.

  “Keep your fingers crossed.”

  Alissa released the tourniquet. The blood flowed back into the artery and the stitches held. She sighed in relieve.

  “He’ll be all right.”

  Little Stevie and Kiera cried. Miriam smiled and fought back her tears.

  “Thank God.” Nathan started to take off his gloves.

  “You’re not done yet,” said Alissa. “We still have to sew up the wound.”

  * * *

  An hour later, the wound had been closed, Steve had been transferred to his bed upstairs, and Alissa had pumped him with a medical cocktail of pain killers and antibiotics. Miriam sat with her husband while Alissa and Steve cleaned up the mess and themselves, with Kiera’s help.

  They were all sitting around the fireplace, the adults drinking triple shots of whiskey, Kiera reading a book, when Miriam came downstairs.

  “How’s he doing?” asked Nathan.

  “He’s sleeping peacefully, thank God.” Miriam poured herself a quadruple shot of whiskey and joined the others. “Thank you both. He’s alive because of you.”

  Alissa took a sip. “He’s not out of the woods yet.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Alissa called to Little Stevie. “Would you go upstairs and play with Archer? He’s been alone all day.”

  “Can I give him treats?”

  “Yes.”

  “Yay.” He raced upstairs. Alissa waited until she heard the bedroom door close.

  Miriam leaned forward. “What do you mean
he’s not out of the woods yet?”

  “The surgery went fine and his chances of recovery are excellent. Steve lost a lot of blood. I estimate about a liter, maybe a little more. That’s not enough to kill him, but it could hamper his recovery, especially if an infection sets in. If for some reason he starts bleeding again, he can’t afford to lose more blood or it’ll kill him. We need to give Steve a blood transfusion.”

  “Doesn’t sound like a big deal,” said Nathan. “We can donate.”

  “I wish it was that simple.”

  Nathan drank down the rest of his whiskey and refilled the glass. “It never is with us.”

  “What are saying?” asked Miriam.

  “Your husband’s blood type is rare. AB-. Less than one percent of the population has that. He can only take a transfusion from someone with a negative blood type.”

  “Let me guess,” said Nathan. “None of us have negative blood types.”

  “Exactly.”

  “And the only place to find this blood is at the local hospital.”

  Alissa nodded.

  “Shit.” Nathan drank a mouthful of whiskey.

  “No problem.” Miriam tried to remain optimistic. “We’ll head into town and pick up what we need.”

  “You won’t be going,” said Alissa.

  “Why?”

  “I need you here with Steve in case something happens to him while we’re in town.”

  “I can stay with dad,” offered Kiera.

  “You won’t be able to handle any medical issues that develop. Your mother needs to stay with your father.” Alissa paused. “I need you to go into town with us.”

  Kiera perked up. “Really?”

  “You’re not going into town,” said Miriam. “It’s too dangerous.”

  “I wouldn’t ask her to go if I thought she would be in any danger. Nathan and I need someone to stay outside in the pick-up to warn us if any deaders threaten to cut us off.”

  “As much as I hate to say it,” began Nathan. “Why don’t we ask Chris?”

  “We’re picking him up at eight in the morning on our way into town.”

  Nathan did not look pleased.

  “I radioed him earlier and he agreed to help. Kiera will be his back up.” Alissa switched her attention to Miriam. “I promise, if things get bad, Chris will pull her out of the area.”

  “Please, mom. Let me go. To help dad.”

  Miriam thought about it for several seconds. She took a long drink of whiskey and sighed. “You can go.”

  Kiera nearly jumped out of her chair with excitement.

  “But no heroics on your part,” Miriam warned her. Then to Alissa. “I’m counting on you to keep her safe.”

  “You have my word.”

  Miriam raised her glass. “Then here’s to good luck tomorrow.”

  Alissa and Nathan joined in.

  Kiera asked, “Can I have some?”

  Miriam flashed her a stern glare. “Don’t press your luck.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Alissa and Nathan sat in the Land Rover and Chris and Kiera sat in the Ram in the far corner of the parking lot of Memorial Hospital in North Conway. They had gone over the plans several times to make certain each of them knew what they needed to do to get in, grab the blood, and get out as quickly and safely as possible. Enter via the front rather than the Emergency Room; even though farther from the blood bank, there should be fewer deaders along the route. Use bladed weapons over firearms if possible so that they didn’t attract more of the living dead. Let Chris worry about covering the outside while Alissa and Nathan focused on what’s inside.

  “I don’t like this,” said Alissa. “This hospital is too close to the center of town.”

  “We don’t have much of a choice. Every other hospital is on the other side of 93, which is overrun with deaders.”

  “I know. It’s—” Alissa tried to blot from her memory what had happened back in Boston.

  “Don’t worry. You know the plan. If it gets bad, we’ll withdraw and try the next one in Berlin.”

  “That’s more than sixty miles north of us.”

  “We all agreed not to risk our lives unnecessarily.” Nathan reached out and rubbed her shoulder, squeezing affectionately. “Are you all set?”

  “Yeah.”

  Nathan keyed his radio and waited for Chris to answer. “What’s up?”

  “Ready when you are.”

  “Roger that.”

  Chris placed the radio on the seat beside him. “It’s showtime.”

  Kiera smiled. “Let’s do this.”

  He drove across the parking lot, staying close to the building until he reached the front entrance, then stopped with the rear of the pick-up twenty feet from the sliding glass doors. He pressed on the horn three times. The twenty or so deaders inside the main lobby stirred. One in a long white coat spotted the humans and snarled. The pack stumbled toward the entrance. Chris revved the engine a few times to agitate them. The moaning, groping pack headed for the doors.

  And slammed into the glass.

  “What the fuck?”

  “The electricity is out,” said Kiera. “The sliding doors won’t work.”

  “Shit.” Chris keyed his microphone. “We have a problem.”

  “What is it?” asked Nathan.

  “There’s no electricity in the hospital. Won’t the blood have spoiled?”

  Alissa’s voice came over the radio. “There should be an emergency generator that keeps the important portions of the hospital running.”

  “Wouldn’t the gas have run out by now?”

  “I saw solar panels on the roof. I’m hoping they’re keeping the emergency generators running.”

  “And if not?”

  “Then we head north to Berlin.”

  Chris placed the radio back on the dashboard and thought for a moment. He slid in his seat to face the rear. “Hold on.”

  Shifting into reverse, he accelerated quickly, smashing the rear of the bed into the doors. The glass shattered, the metal frame collapsed, and most of the deaders were thrown back several feet. The red emergency light above the door began flashing. He pulled away and stopped ten yards from the hospital. Those deaders not knocked over maneuvered around the others and exited the lobby. One by one, the others climbed to their feet, except for the three with broken legs, and shambled after them.

  Chris moved fifty feet ahead of the pack and stopped, waiting for the living dead to catch up. Checking his side mirrors to make certain all the deaders had cleared the lobby and were behind him, he coasted across the parking lot, occasionally shifting into neutral and revving the engine to keep their attention. At the end of the lot, Chris veered right onto Route 302 and led the deaders away.

  Alissa and Nathan sat silent and motionless in the Land Rover, not wanting to draw attention to themselves. It took twenty minutes for Chris to clear the area. Once no deaders were in sight, Nathan waited five extra minutes, started the engine, and pulled over to the hospital entrance.

  Half a mile to the south sat the John H. Fuller Elementary School. At least it had been an elementary school until six weeks ago when the National Guard had converted it into a registration center for the thousands of refugees pouring into North Conway. The authorities had originally intended to register their names, check them for bites, and set them up with cots inside the school. As should have been anticipated, one or more persons had been infected, reanimated, and attacked other refugees. Within an hour, the entire compound of nearly two thousand people had either become deaders or food. None of them had eaten in over a month and, with no distractions around, had never wandered from the compound.

  However, today unusual noises came from the north. The blaring of a car horn. The shattering of glass. The revving of an engine. None of these sounds were distinguishable by the deaders. They related them to only one thing.

  Food.

  As one, the mass of two thousand living dead staggered out of the compound and headed for the hos
pital.

  Alissa and Nathan climbed out of the SUV. The stench of decayed flesh overpowered her senses, making her gag. She swallowed hard, fighting back the urge to puke.

  “Are you okay?” asked Nathan.

  She nodded. “I didn’t expect it to smell this bad.”

  Nathan and Alissa slid the straps of their FAL and Mossberg, respectively, over their shoulders in case they needed them. Alissa slid her machete out of its sheath. Nathan clasped his hunting knife and unbuttoned the clasp on his holster in case he needed quick access to his S&W.

  One of the three deaders Chris had crippled, its femur jutting out from its leg and oozing a trail of congealed blood, crawled toward Nathan. A swarm of gorged flies and wasps fed off the body. It lifted its head toward him and snarled. Nathan raised his left foot and smashed it down on the deader’s head. Several of its teeth shattered on the cement. Flies and hornets flew off, several buzzing around his head. He stomped the deader’s head two more times until the skull caved in. He then stepped over to another deader laying on its back, its spine crushed, but still moaning and clawing at him. Nathan rolled it over and plunged his hunting knife through the base of its skull and twisted the blade until the deader went still. Again, flies and wasps formed a cloud around Nathan, one of them stinging his hand.

  “Ready?” he asked.

  “One minute.”

  The last crippled deader lay in front of Alissa, its legs fractured and its left arm bent backwards, unable to do anything other than rock back and forth. She stepped up and slammed the machete into the back of its skull, cleaving the head in half like a melon. Alissa walked around the body, pausing long enough to clean off the blade on its clothes.

  “Now I’m ready.”

  Alissa crossed the lobby to the receptionist area, checked to make certain nothing hid there, and moved behind the desk.

  “What are you looking for?”

  “A floor plan for the hospital. We need to find the blood bank.” She set down her machete and shuffled through the papers. “Here it is.”