The Black: Outbreak

by Paul E. Cooley

You’re tired, he told himself. It was like that before you came in here. You just didn’t notice.

  Right. That was the answer. Had to be. He’d been so brain drained from working on reports all night that he hadn’t noticed. He took another sip of coffee, his tongue hating him for it, and left the break room.

  He followed the clean swath of tile all the way to the X-ray suite. The door, which he thought he’d pulled most of the way closed, was wide open. He walked inside, expecting to see an extension cord attached to the wall, a buffer in the center of the room, and a Hispanic man wearing ear plugs buffing the floor or getting ready to. Instead, there was only the dimly lit suite and tile that was so clean, it shined even in the wan light.

  Still confused, Ken walked around the waiting area trying to make sense of the clean floor. Then he noticed the chairs. Nurses often rolled patients into the suite in a wheelchair or a mobile bed. But the walking wounded often made their way into the suite, with some assistance, only to sit in the less-than-comfortable, leather covered metal chairs. There were only three of them in the suite. But they looked odd. Ken’s tired mind finally realized what was missing—the leather was gone.

  “What the hell?” he asked the room. His voice echoed around the empty suite. Then he heard sound. Sizzling, like a slab of raw bacon dunked into boiling, roiling oil. It was coming from inside the X-ray room. Ken frowned. Someone had to be playing a prank on him. The nurses knew his work duty was light tonight. One of the doctors would occasionally leave a joke on his computer desk, or perhaps a note about some particular patient, but apart from those instances, he was very much alone during the night shift.

  Still, it could always be a lost patient. Or maybe one of the nurses was rummaging for supplies, although he couldn’t think of anything he had they would want.

  “Hello?” Ken said. His voice came out in a dusky, barely audible whisper. He cleared his throat and tried again, all the while walking with slow steps to the X-ray room’s open door. His tennis shoes squeaked on the polished floor and he stopped. Again, whoever was manning the buffer had decided only to shine part of the tile rather than the whole area, but this swath was wider. When he squinted, he saw dents in the tile outside the swath, as if something sharp and heavy had jackhammered across the floor on either side of the clean area.

  The sizzling sound seemed to abate a bit. “Hello?” Ken said louder. “My name is Ken Sermon. I’m the X-Ray tech. Can I help—” He finally walked into the room and stopped cold at the threshold. There was something in the shadows. Something large. The thing looked like a cross between a beetle and something aquatic. A large sack drooped from its underbelly, pulsing and shining like liquid.

  “The fuck?” he said to the room. The thing in the corner didn’t react. Ken stared down at his coffee cup, thinking of Kafka’s The Metamorphosis. He wanted to ask the thing if its name was Gregor and then nearly chuckled.

  They slipped something in my coffee. Or maybe there’s a gas leak or something.

  The thing in the corner continued sitting near the X-ray machine. It was difficult to see, but he thought something was moving above its, well, its head. Two somethings. He squinted again, cursing himself for leaving his glasses at his station. Yup, two antennae waved in the air at him. A long growth swished back and forth from its abdomen. Abdomen? No, that wasn’t right either. As his eyes adjusted to the dim light, he could make out more details.

  The thing in the corner had three legs that ended in talons. Two appendages sprouted from what should have been its chest. They ended in incredibly sharp hooks that clicked against the clean tile. And that shit on its head? Those weren’t antennae. They were fucking eyes.

  Ken’s coffee cup slipped from his grasp and shattered on the tile. Without warning, the thing in the corner moved lightning fast toward him. He turned to run and then one of its tentacles slashed across the floor and struck him in the shins. He dropped face first into the tile, but managed to catch himself at the last second. He flipped over and stared into the impossibly black thing. The sizzling sound roared in his ears. Its belly, that distended, slimy, liquid-looking sack, slurped up the spilled coffee.

  As fast as he could, he crawled backward and found himself at the X-Ray station. He flipped around the corner and slowly rose, breath huffing in rapid gasps. His legs shook with fear and pain.

  The thing had finished consuming the coffee and the sizzling sound had died again. The eyestalks whirled around and around as if searching for him. He cast a sidelong glance at the room’s exit. The creature’s tentacles slashed through the air near the doorway. There was no way he was getting out through there. Not unless he wanted to be cut into little pieces.

  It wants food, he thought. And I’m it.

  Or not. He reached into his lab coat pocket and pulled out the cellophane package of sticky buns. He tore open the package with his teeth, eyes still warily locked on the monstrosity. He palmed one of the four in the pack and shuffled sideways. The lead and steel partition separating him from the X-ray machine provided him just enough cover to block the creature’s tentacles. Ken shuffled until his left arm hung out to the side of the partition. “Fetch!” he yelled at the thing and threw the sticky bun.

  The doughy, stale confection sailed through the air and struck the top of the X-ray machine. It bounced to the floor spreading sugary crumbs across the formerly clean tile. The creature’s eyestalks had immediately caught the object’s arc and the moment the food landed, the creature scuttled to it. The room filled with that frying sound and the smell of something rotten and burned. He watched in horrified fascination as the sticky bun dissolved into the thing’s liquid sack. When the snack was finished, it moved about trying to find more crumbs.

  Ken looked down at the X-ray controls and then back at the machine. It was still set up for chest pictures since the last ICU patient in was suffering some nasty type of pneumonia. The creature had to move just a meter or so and it would be right in the firing line. Maybe he could cook the goddamned thing.

  He pulled another bun from the pack just as the creature’s eyestalks whirled back to look for him. He put the sticky buns on the counter and punched keys on the control panel in a panic. He kept looking up to make sure it wasn’t coming back toward him. It was. Cursing, Ken peeled off another of the treats and tossed it a little further.

  The bun hit the floor and then rolled past the X-ray head. The creature immediately hurried after it. Ken tore his eyes away from the viewing window and refocused on the controls. He cranked up the rads to maximum and prayed he wouldn’t start a fire or fry himself. He put his finger over the “Start” button and waited.

  The thing quickly dissolved the bun with another round of sizzling. It shook and vibrated and then turned back to face him. Ken’s finger trembled as he gazed into the black hole that was its open mouth. He could see something like teeth inside of it. His balls felt like ice, stomach roiling with acid. He took a deep breath and waited. The thing just sat there, less than a half meter from where he needed it to be, and stared at him in utter silence.

  “Fucking move!” Ken yelled. The creature didn’t respond. With his free hand, he rummaged another bun from the pack. He had one shot at this. If he didn’t throw it far enough, he was all but inviting it to come closer to him. If he threw it too far, he’d have to hope it was dumb enough to walk in front of the X-ray. Ken ground his teeth, held the bun between two fingers, and flung it toward the target.

  The bun flew too far. He knew it the moment he let go. He watched in silent fascination as the bun hurtled through the air and smacked into one of the creature’s waving tentacles. The confection bounced off the hard surface and rolled to the floor right where he needed it to be. The creature, surprised by the hit, flailed as if searching for an enemy. Its eyestalks then focused back on the bun. It moved in a blur.

  The thing pounced on the bun. Ken stabbed the button on the control panel and watched with a prayer on his lips. The room filled with a loud buzz as the machine fired a barr
age of high-intensity X-rays. The blast of ionizing radiation hit the creature just below the eyestalks.

  The black thing stumbled and hit the wall. The smell of ozone and oil filled the room. The eyestalks gyrated in a spastic seizure and its tentacles flew straight up in the air. The creature sagged on its legs and collapsed to the floor. The X-ray machine stopped hurling radiation and the room quieted at once.

  Then he heard an eerie sound like the crackling of green wood on a campfire. The creature shook, its eyestalks a blur of movement. The dim light made it impossible for him to see much detail, but he thought its shape was different now. The creature slowly ceased its movements and was still. Ken held his breath. Maybe he’d killed it. Maybe—

  The creature rose on its legs, shaky, but stable. It seemed taller now, as if those little legs had grown wider and taller. A surge of panic ran through him. The X-rays had stopped it, at least for a couple of seconds. He looked down at the control panel and saw the green light. He stabbed the button again.

  Another burst of invisible energy shot from the machine and into the thing. The creature once again reacted violently, its limbs flailing at the air. One of its tentacles lashed out and smashed into the wall. Sheetrock, wood, and metal chunks sprayed into the air. Sparks danced from shorted electrical wires. The lights in the room went out. The X-ray machine hissed in the other room as the heatsinks took on the sudden temperature change.

  Ken cursed. The light in the cubicle was just strong enough to flow through the viewing window. The room was little more than shadows and shapes, but it was enough for Ken to see that the creature had grown. And what’s more, it was moving. And moving toward him.

  A yelp escaped his mouth. He looked down at the control panel once more. The green light was back. He hit the button with his fist, the plastic ridges ripping up his knuckles. The X-ray machine belched another gout of radiation. This time, the creature didn’t pause; it simply grew larger.

  It scuttled toward the cubicle, its taloned legs clicking on the tile, eyestalks bent forward, one tentacle ripping a gash in the wall as it approached. Ken screamed and backed as far into the cubicle as he could. It kept coming and there was no way out.

  Chapter 45

  Strong lights. Are you fucking kidding me? Schneck’s mind rattled with the thoughts. Well, that and the terrifying image of the thing that had eaten O’Malley. When he’d turned the corner and seen the puddle of black sitting there in the hallway, his sphincter had clenched. He was pretty sure even the Lieutenant had had that reaction. How the hell else were you supposed to react?

  He jogged down the hallway following the signs to the ICU for infants. He didn’t know what to expect, but the lack of hospital staff in the hallways didn’t exactly give him a warm and fuzzy. Yeah, it was damned early in the morning, and surely the night shift was less busy and had fewer staff, but this was just creepy. Where the hell was everybody?

  Schneck passed by a closed door without looking at the sign above it. He didn’t need to now. The ICU nursery was just ahead. He heard firing behind him, cursed, and fell into a run. He reached the ICU door. Slightly out of breath, Schneck put his hand on the door and swiveled. Nothing happened. He tried it again, but the door was locked. The door badge reader blinked red. “Goddammit,” he said to no one. He peered back down the hallway. It was still empty. Shaking his head, he pulled back his foot and kicked right beside the knob.

  6’2, legs ripped with muscle, the force of his combat boot striking the door was enough to rip the door frame. Wood and metal warped at the strike point. The door held fast. He cursed and kicked again. He was rewarded with the sound of splintering wood and screeching metal. The door popped slightly ajar. He pushed it open by putting all his weight against the door.

  It opened into a nurses’ station. Two women, dressed in blue scrubs, held their clipboards in the air as if to strike him. One of them screamed. Schneck held up his hands. “Hey! I’m not here to hurt you.”

  “Who are you?” one of the women asked in a breathy excuse for a voice.

  “Sergeant Schneck, Houston SWAT.”

  “Shit,” one of the nurses said. “We under attack or something?”

  “Or something,” he said. “I need a UV light.”

  The two women looked at one another and then back at him in stark confusion. “What?”

  It would have been funny if not for the situation. “I don’t have time to explain,” he said. “I’m in a bit of a hurry and it’s a life or death situation. I need a UV light. Like for colic or something.”

  One of the women cocked an eyebrow. “You mean jaundice?”

  “Yeah. That.” The two women shared another confused look. “Seriously, ladies, I’m in a rush.”

  “We have two not being used,” one of them said. “One’s a biliblanket.”

  Schneck blinked. “Billy-what?”

  She sighed. “Follow me.”

  “Please hurry,” he said.

  The nurse quickly stepped around the side of the station and to a storage closet. She opened the door and Schneck stared into a strange collection of various devices, instruments, and spare, transparent Lucite cribs. The nurse walked to a shelf and held up a light that looked like it belonged in a reptile aquarium and a 2.5cm thick rectangular semi-transparent piece of cloth. An electrical cord dangled from its bottom. “Both of these use UV light. They—”

  He held out his hands. “I’ll take ‘em.”

  The nurse offered them and he snatched both from her hands. The light was heavier than the so-called blanket, but it wasn’t the weight that made them awkward—it was their combined bulk. Holding them both in one hand was next to possible without risking dropping both. He wouldn’t be able to hold a weapon; he’d have to use both hands for the items.

  He swiveled on his heel and ran back through the nursery, his combat boots crunching on splinters of wood. Somewhere behind him, he heard one of the women yell after him. “What’s going on?”

  He didn’t respond. He knew he should have told them to stay where they were, to not leave the ICU, and do their best to hide if anything came down the hall. But he knew they’d stay at their stations. The bigger risk was that he’d destroyed the only thing protecting them from the open hallway. That was much more disturbing. He had to get to the goddamned thing and kill it, else it could eat those nurses, not to mention the babies, and that was the kind of guilt he just didn’t need.

  The sound of gunfire and distant, excited voices caught his ears. The radio crackled in his ear with jumbled voices giving their status reports. And then all hell seemed to break loose.

  He rounded the corner just in time to see Epp run past the nursery and into another hallway. Schneck cursed and followed as quickly as he could. Fast for a big man, he caught up to Epp, but the Lt. was a good ten meters ahead of them. She took another turn and bounded through a door, Schneck and Epp right behind her.

  Chapter 46

  Known around the ward as “Nurse Ratched,” Delia Niro sat in the chair facing the cribs and the glass window separating her from the outer hallway. Delia knew what the other nurses called her and understood why, but it didn’t bother her. Being a hard ass on the night shift was necessary and kept the underlings in line and doing their jobs. She was hated for it, and that made her happy.

  With the weather as bad as it was, they’d already had their share of call-ins. Two nurses. Two damned nurses and some of the janitorial staff didn’t even bother coming to work. Delia would have been angrier, but some of the other floors had it much, much worse. Basically, Ben Taub was short-handed in an already short-handed hospital. If Delia had her way, it would be shorter two nurses come tomorrow morning.

  She held her face in a smile and cooed at the baby. The infant wailed in her face. The tiny boy had already gone through three diapers in the past two hours. Any more liquid from him, and she’d rush him to neonatal ICU for an IV. A long time ago, she’d learned not to panic at the first sign of trouble. And only four days out of the womb,
little Michael seemed to be a healthy, hearty, poop machine. She just had to hope it solidified soon.

  The baby’s crimson face scrunched up and he loosed another wail. Tears streamed from the infant’s eyes. Beneath the dim fluorescents, the baby’s skin looked sallow. Delia rocked in the chair and continued stroking the baby’s nearly hairless head.

  The nursery was loud, but her earplugs drowned out the sound of crying, miserable infants. She figured if concerts were damaging to your ears, a room full of screaming babies were too. The first time she’d had nursery duty, her ears rang for nearly a day. Fifteen years later, she knew better.

  She should have been at the station taking phone calls and handling any possible ward specific business, but she was on break. Picking up one of the children and calming them by touch, sound, and presence was one of her favorite pastimes, and, if she was honest with herself, one of the best parts of the job. She’d much rather be in here than out there trying to manage a bunch of slacking nurses and the occasional diva doctor.

  She didn’t hear the sound of gunfire just outside the glass wall. She was so focused on cooing to the child that she didn’t even notice the thing crawling up the glass before scurrying into the ceiling. So when it rattled in the ceiling above her, she didn’t hear that either.

  Delia rotated her wrist so she could see her watch. Her blissful fifteen minutes was up. Oh, well. She’d get a cup of coffee and get back to the paperwork.

  She rose from the chair, baby in hand, and walked with gentle steps to the baby’s crib. Little Michael had finally stopped crying. For once, everything was the way it should be. An unhappy baby made calm and sleepy by her ministrations. That’s the way it should be. She placed the baby in the crib, swaddled him in another blanket, smiled into his calm face, and turned to leave the room.

  Her left foot stopped in mid-step and she nearly lost her balance. A second later, she was simply blinking at what she saw, because it didn’t make sense.