by Aline Riva
He followed as Parsons walked ahead, as he and the other guard dragged the screaming man away, across the field, taking the back route to the land far behind Parson's property, where the pit was waiting, and so were the corpses...
As Clare led her shocked sister away from the scene, Adrian stood there looking into the distance as Parsons and the guards and Gavin vanished from sight.
“He deserved it, filthy bastard,” he said in disgust.
Emma looked into the bubbling pot. It was empty, save for the water and something fleshy, growing pale as it cooked.
“What's that?” she asked.
Adrian glanced down.
Stand back,” he said, and as Vicki and Stacy moved aside he gave the pot a kick and it rolled from the fire, the hot water hit the grass as steam rose and the severed penis rolled from the pot.
“Cock soup, anyone?” Adrian remarked.
“Oh shut up!” Stacy said sharply, “That's gross!”
“So was he, but we won't see him again,” remarked Adrian, then he grabbed a paper bag and tipped out potato peelings and used it to pick up the partly boiled severed organ, and tossed it into the woodland. Vicki turned away and gagged.
The sounds of the struggle had alerted the lurking oil covered corpse, who had stayed in shadow, undetected by the living as they had fought in the forest, now as something hit its boot and the creature looked down, it saw a piece of human flesh. It grabbed the severed organ and took a bite, feeling disappoint that little blood flowed from the warm flesh. Then it looked through the gap in the heavy shaded boughs and watched in fascination as it spotted her again, she stood there, her hair shining like gold, reminding the corpse of the rig and then before, in a misty memory of a life long gone... the gold hair woman would be spared... But she was walking away with the others now, headed for the path. The creature waited until they were far off, then it lumbered from the shadow of the treeline, making a slow and deliberate pursuit, following now by her scent on the wind...
As night fell, the village was peaceful once more. Word had spread of the attack on Ruby and the consequences for Gavin, yet in these dangerous times, the sense that rough justice was better than living in fear was a sentiment shared by all. The incident had not been mentioned to Greg, who had enjoyed a peaceful afternoon mostly sleeping, then had dinner cooked by Stacy. She had apologised for being late back to give him his meds, and he had told her that he had slept for most of the time she was away and the pain had been bearable.
But now he was out of discomfort and even feeling a little confident as Christian had pulled up a chair at his bedside, checked his wounds and told him that he stood a very good chance of recovery.
“I'm not saying for sure you'll be able to walk again, but you'll certainly survive this - I hope - you seem strong enough.”
“I hope you're right,” Greg replied.
Christian placed a hand on his shoulder, looking at him intently through his round glasses.
“Don't worry, my friend. I'll do my best for you,” then he got up from his seat,
“Be over at the infirmary at nine am. I'm going to give spinal anaesthesia so you won't be unconscious and you definitely won't feel any pain. It will take a few hours, then you can rest and get dosed up on pain relief and start recovery.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
“Barring complications, it should be,” Christian replied, “See you tomorrow.”
Then he left the room. Stacy left with him, he heard her thank him, and then she closed the door and came back up the stairs.
“Do you think he's right? Will I be okay?”
Now Greg sounded anxious again, and Stacy got on the bed and put her arm around him as she wished something as simple as a kiss could dash away his fears, but this was something that required honesty and nothing less.
“The bite virus can cause complications, like he said – but you're doing okay so far. Once you've had the surgery you'll get stronger and it might be difficult to walk -”
“I'll be in a wheelchair, I know it. I can't see any other outcome. He's got to cut into muscle.”
“He's cutting out the bites, he's not taking your legs off! I'll get you on your feet again, Greg.”
Her determination made him smile.
“You sound so sure.”
“I want to help you.”
“Thanks,” he said, and kissed her softly.
She turned out the light and lay beside him with her arm around him, waiting for him to fall asleep as she stared into the darkness, wondering if he would live or die, as the thought of losing him made her eyes sting with tears. She barely knew him, but he was already in her heart...
When morning came, Marc was quiet as he joined Parsons and his wife for breakfast, he barely ate, instead drinking tea and sitting there in silence as he thought about the day before and the moment he and another man had thrown Gavin into the pit. The creatures inside it had torn him apart in a bloody mess of wet tearing flesh and bones snapping as they ate him alive. He had screamed for too long, as his guts had hung out and one corpse had tugged on intestines as another had torn a chunk from his shoulder.
“Marc?”
He looked up from his tea.
“Yes, Antonio?”
“You can take today off. See your friend before the surgery. And do wish him well from me.”
“Thanks, I'll do that,” Marc replied then he left the table and left the house by the back door, his thoughts now on Greg as the fresh air and distant roll of the tide and the brightness of the morning helped to wipe out memories of the rapist torn apart in the corpse pit.
Stacy had taken Greg to the infirmary half an hour before the others showed up. Marc was there first, giving his best friend a supportive hug.
“What's it like working for Parsons?” he asked.
Marc looked at Greg, noticed he was looking pale now, he was also breaking into a light sweat. He guessed it was nerves over what he was about to face. Hearing about Parsons, the rapist and the meat cleaver was something he didn't need to hear at a time like this.
“It's okay,” he replied, leaving out the rest.
Then Vicki and Emma came into the room, Vicki hurried over to his bedside and looked at him anxiously.
“'I've been so worried about you.”
She stepped closer, giving him a tight hug that he was not expecting, then as she let go he saw tears in her eyes.
“Oh Vicki, thanks for your concern but I'm sure Christian will look after me.”
He had spoken so kindly, but Marc knew his best friend better than anyone – it was clear to him Greg was terrified.
“It will be okay,” Emma added as she stood by the wall, not wanting to crowd him, “You're tough enough, Greg. You'll get through this.”
He looked to Stacy who was at his side, then to Marc and Emma and Vicki.
“I really appreciate your concern. Thanks for being here.” Then as the heat that had bothered him since waking rose a little and he felt like his skin was on fire, he began to sweat heavily.
“I just want this over with,” he said, sounding breathless.
“Are you okay?” Marc asked, noticing a sudden change that he wanted to put down to anxiety and nothing more, but Greg's face was growing pale. Just then Christian walked into the room.
“Something is wrong,” Marc said, and as the doctor hurried over, he looked in alarm at the sight of Greg burning up with a fever as his face paled and his breathing quickened.
“Greg?” he said urgently, “Can you hear me?”
“My head hurts...” Greg murmured, then his eyes rolled and his body grew rigid and began to tremble.
“What's happening?” Vicki sounded panicked.
“He's having a seizure.. the virus causes temperature to raise and sometimes it can cause swelling to the brain that leads to seizures and internal bleeding. I need to stabilise him and get him straight to theatre... Everyone get out and let me do my job, please!”
Emma was vis
ibly distressed as she left the room with Vicki, Marc looked back at him as the seizure stopped and Christian quickly prepared an injection, then noticing Stacy was in tears, he put an arm around her and escorted her from the room and went down to the waiting area, where Vicki was sat sobbing as Emma's words of comfort did nothing to console her. Marc sat down heavily and looked at the clock, guessing it would be the most painful and longest wait of his life, as Christian treated Greg's complications and then his wounds. It would be hours before he found out if his best friend would live or die...
Chapter 11
It was almost sunset when Christian returned to the waiting area. Marc had gone outside for some air, but as he glanced back through the glass doors and saw the others get up, he hurried back inside.
“How is he?” he demanded.
Christian looked exhausted from many hours spent cutting out the infected tissue. He glanced around at those who stood waiting anxiously and pushed aside his own tiredness, understanding that Emma was worried, Stacy looked anxious and Vicki was tearful all over again. Marc's fear for his best friend was reflected clearly in his worried face and he didn't want to make this news any harder than it had to be, but all had not gone well at all...
“He has survived the procedure, but the infection caused some swelling to the brain. I was able to give some drugs to counteract it. The tissue was difficult to remove, he's lost flesh and muscle and I lost count of how many stitches it took to hold the wounds together. But the infection is gone and while I can't guarantee he will walk again, I did save his legs. But the brain complication was serious. I put him into an induced coma as a precaution. I won't attempt to bring him out of it until I'm sure he's stable and recovering. There is a risk of brain damage but while we have life support equipment here, we don't have the means to do a brain scan, so I can't say for sure if there is damage or not, we have to be patient and hope for the best.”
They had all listened silently, their relief was mixed with the worry for complications in his recovery and Christian knew there was nothing else he could say to alleviate those fears.
“Thank you,”Marc said as he briefly laid a hand on his shoulder, “You've got him through the worst and you're still doing all you can for him...I can't thank you enough.”
“I wish I could do more,” Christian replied honestly, “But when a person is heavily bitten there seems to be more risk of complication occurring before the virus matures at five days. A lot of research is needed and only time and unfortunately more victims, to understand it fully.”
Then Christian cast a glance about the group.
“He's going to need constant monitoring. I can't function indefinitely without sleep. Does anyone here have medical training?”
“I know basic first aid,” Emma said.
“I'm willing to learn!” Vicki added.
“Maybe you could teach us some basics,” Stacy suggested, “I could do a few hours, then Emma, while you get some rest? If there's a problem we can come and fetch you.”
“That sounds good to me,” Christian agreed.
”What about me?” Vicki demanded.
“I think you should come and visit sometimes,” Marc said, stepping in quickly before the women broke into a quarrel over who got to look after his best friend, “You could help him a lot by talking to him, on some level he can probably still hear us.”
To his great relief she nodded.
“Yes, that's a good idea,” she replied.
As she looked at Christian, he guessed what she was about to say, she wanted to see Greg, it was plain in her anxious gaze.
“For now, it would be best if he's left to recover,” Christian explained, “I will be mainly taking care of him and Emma, perhaps you could take the first shift with me so I can explain all you need to know about his life support equipment? Tomorrow I'll show you the basics, Stacy. Then perhaps I can grab some much needed rest.”
“Can I see him, just for a few minutes?” Vicki begged.
“I'll go with her,” Marc added, and Christian gave a sigh of frustration as he indicated to a door at the far end of the corridor.
“Two minutes only, please!”
“Of course,” Marc said, then he and Vicki went up the corridor together.
As they headed for Greg's room, Vicki was walking with purpose, her eyes set on the closed door.
“I just want him to be okay,”she said, “He's such a special guy...”
Marc suddenly thought back to all the times girls had fallen at Greg's feet, or quarrelled over him - and then he realised, it hadn't been just because his best friend had money and a nice house... the apocalypse had arrived and they were still falling for him...
“What do you women see in Greg Fitzroy?” he said, then he chuckled, “I thought I had them queueing up but he's had them queuing round the block three times over, all his life!”
Then they reached his room and all trace of amusement left this gaze as Vicki opened the door to a small room where Greg was in bed, machinery surrounded him and he was breathing on oxygen. He was hooked up to tubes and lines and deeply unconscious, but his vital signs were steady and as Vicki stepped into the room, Marc hung back in the doorway, feeling an ache in his chest at the sight of his best friend so very weak.
“It's just a precaution,” he heard Christian say as he joined him.
Marc stepped aside and the doctor entered the room followed by Emma, who stood next to Christian as he told her he would explain everything once Greg's visitors had gone.
Vicki stood next to the bed and looked down at Greg, wanting to reach out and touch him but half afraid of disturbing the equipment he was hooked up to, so instead she spoke to him softly.
“You're going to be okay” she said, “Were all here for you, especially me...” as tears choked her voice she put a hand to her mouth to stifle her sob and for a moment she looked down at him, then she turned away, leaving the room quickly. Marc stepped closer to his bedside and then leaned over him, placing a kiss on his brow.
“Keep fighting, mate,” he said softly, the he straightened up and turned back to Christian.
“I'd better leave him in your capable hands,” he said, “And once again, thank you so much for all you're doing for him. He wouldn't have stood a chance without you.”
“I'm just doing my job,” Christian replied with a smile, feeling no praise was needed.
Then Marc left the room, walking off to catch up with Vicki, as Christian closed the door, then turned to Emma and began to explain the basics of monitoring the patient.
Stacy had headed back to Greg's house, already forming a plan to get the place as warm and welcoming as it could be for when he came back. She didn't know how long he would be in the infirmary, but summer wouldn't last forever and as soon as autumnal winds came across the sea, she knew it would be freezing, and that was without considering how cold winter would be here on the island. When Greg came home, she wanted to know he felt at home, and that home would be warm enough to support his recovery.
While Stacy was back at the house, Vicki was walking off down the street ahead of Greg, her head bowed as she said nothing in reply as he called her name and hurried to catch up with her.
“Vicki!” he said again, finally over taking her and standing in front of her, “What's wrong now?”
She had been looking down at the ground, as she raised her head she met his gaze with tearful eyes.
“Stacy and Emma get to actively help him. I get pushed out again. I'm the one who worries for him more than anyone else!” her voice began to falter as she blinked away tears, “Ever since the day you and Greg saved me from the fishing boat, when he pulled me onboard that helicopter...I've felt so close to him! He took care of me, he saved me when we got away from the rig! He's injured because of me!”
“He chose to help you get to the boat,” Marc reminded her, “I tried to save your sister but the longer any of us stayed in the water, the less chance we had – we just didn't know it! There's no wa
y to prepare for the way the world is now, we have to learn as we go along. Any one of us could have ended up bitten by those corpses. Greg was unlucky.”
“We had a talk while we were on the rig...I think we got closer...sort of. If I feel it, I'm sure he does too.”
“He told me about that,” Marc replied, “And it was far too soon to think about getting close to anyone. Between us, yes, I think he felt something for you but it's nothing to think too deeply about, we've more important things to handle now – like getting him through this, helping him to recover. I know how you feel, Vicki. But you need to let go of that for a while.”
“And what if he dies?” she demanded as a tear ran down her face.
Marc blinked, staring as he realised just how accusing she had just sounded.
“Vicki, you have to calm down! I know you've been through hell, we all have. But we're in a safe place now, I know Parsons can be brutal with those who break the law but he's trying to keep us safe. We are safe here.”
“My parents were lost at sea,” she stated, “My sister was torn apart by corpses. Greg saved my life. I'm the only one left in my family! Of course I'm grateful to him. And yes, I care about him...I just want a chance to tell him that. If he dies...oh god, if he dies...”
She looked away and stifled a sob as tears streaked her face.
“When he starts recovering, you can spend time with him, help him. I'm sure Stacy will be needed back on patrol eventually, and Emma will want to start getting to know the community, she'll be busy getting settled here. That leaves you lots of time to spend with Greg.”
“You don't know how I feel,” she said tearfully, “If he dies, I'm alone...” and she walked off down the road, as Marc gave a heavy sigh, guessing life these days was brutal on everyone, but Vicki was so young and so fragile, she was clearly on the verge of breaking down...