Now Mortie cowers in a small room behind the nurse’s station. He is trying to stay below the large windows, metal wire crisscrosses inside the glass like a chain-linked fence. They are out there, all of the patients, and staff. Even the duty Doctor is out there. They are all looking for him and his companion, a schizophrenic girl who can’t be any older than twenty-two.
The room they are in is the medication room. It is small, hardly enough floor space for both of them to stretch their legs out. Mortie is searching through a rack of shelves where patients’ belongings are stored. He wants a cigarette. He had asked for one when he was admitted last night, but the technician told him he would have to wait until 6 AM. They had scheduled smoke breaks. The tech gave him the tour, showed him the break schedule on a dry erase board, all the while smelling as if he had just smoked half a pack.
The girl just lies on the floor against a beige cart that holds the day’s medicine dosages for all the patients. She has been here before. She had told Mortie about how she has been in and out of places just like this for most of her adult life. Her disorder gives her delusions of persecution. She feels everyone is out to get her. It doesn’t help her condition having over thirty people outside that tiny room with that exact goal, to get her.
“I found some.” Mortie triumphantly holds a pack up as he searches for a lighter. The cigarettes would be rather useless without one, he thinks. Upon discovering a book of matches he scurries back to his companion, a smoke already hanging from his lips. He has a cigarette popping out of the soft pack for her, but she doesn’t reach for it.
“Hey, I found some.” He would say her name had he learned it. His hand gently shakes her shoulder. Her body slumps limply to the floor. He checks for a pulse on her neck, there isn’t one. She’s dead and he is alone, his only company now are the crazies outside.
He lights his cigarette. Smoke fills the small space since it has no place to go. Mortie touches the girl’s wrist. He turns over the plastic ID band they slap on you at the ER so he can read her name, pills fall from her palm. Her name was Dawn.
Mortie holds her wrist feeling for a pulse again. He may have made a mistake, but doubts it. There is no pulse to be found. He stands up, no longer worried about being seen by the berserkers beyond the glass.
He is in this place because he wanted to die. The mortician decides he should just kill himself. I am a monster for what I do, he thinks. People trusted me, and I desecrated their loved ones. And, now I have nothing.
The broken man collects pills of various shapes and sizes. He drops them all into a Dixie cup until they crest the brim. He draws some water from the small sink behind him.
The man stares at the two cups, trying to psych himself into swallowing the contents of both. His eyes slowly drift away and find young Dawn’s lifeless body. Mortie crouches and holds her wrist one last time. He doesn’t feel a pulse this time either, he isn’t expecting to. He is checking for algor mortis, to see if her body has cooled to room temperature, figuring one last fling before he takes his life can’t hurt.
25
The backs of the trucks were open as they rested against the building. The vehicles were parked against rectangular holes to make their deliveries. Dan located gauze and silk tape in one of them so he could redress Bill’s rudimentary bandages. Blood poured from the wounds when exposed, soaking straight through the fresh white cotton fabric that was liberally applied.
Bill feels like a mummy as they slowly tread further down the loading dock. It opens up again to the outside, overlooking the back alley of the hospital. They pass through another door, searching for a staircase in a dark hall. The corridor branches off to the left, but they continue straight trying to be as quiet as possible in their quest.
A set of double doors ends the hall. A sign tells them that beyond it they will find; MRI, the morgue, elevators, and the stairs. Moaning tells them that there is danger to be found as well.
Bill reaches for the door and motions to his partner to get back. He cracks it and cranes his neck to see what lurks on the other side. Bill holds up three fingers.
“They see you?” Dan asks in a whisper when Bill closes the door.
“I don’t think so.”
“Did you see the stairs?”
“I just saw the MRI.”
The moans change slightly, from a general malaise to that of pleading. Dan has been mentally cataloging the different tones of the dead. They may not have seen Bill, but the men know they can smell him.
“It’s me isn’t it?” Bill asks. Dan just nods apologetically. “Probably my aftershave?”
The soldier places the ammo box on the floor and draws his 9mm. Each man takes a door.
“Let’s do it.” Dan says. They kick open the doors and greet the approaching zombies. Two of the deceased wear light blue scrubs, the third is in street clothes.
Bill takes aim, but his vision is blurring. His bullet is off slightly, it tears into the man in street clothe’s throat. Thankfully, the large caliber projectile is enough to remove its head completely. It rolls in the air before thudding to the ground. Dan fires at the technicians. He takes it slow so he only needs one shot per aggressor. The bodies fall limply to the floor.
Dan advances in as Bill reloads in the doorway. The soldier fears the reports may summon more, but he doesn’t see too many points of entry since all the doors are closed. The only way to reach them is via a small hallway in the waiting area, or from behind, the way they had come.
Thumping comes from the hallway before Dan. A sign above the passage reads that no metallic objects are allowed beyond that point. Windows line the right-hand side of the short hall, revealing a large room containing a big white box.
Dan has seen these on TV before. He can see a patient in this one now. The subject is on the table, partially sticking out of the tunnel in the machine’s center. This is where they insert people for diagnosis.
The feet of the patient, who is beyond help, flail wildly. Its legs have been reduced to red stumps. The thumping is the zombie’s hands banging around inside, trying to get out. Dan wonders if the creatures are claustrophobic. Perhaps tight spaces remind them of the grave.
Movement inside the room startles Dan. A woman in a white lab coat paces around the machine. She sees him watching her and lunges at the glass. Her dive is clumsy and slow, her head rebounds off the pane, causing it to make a wobbling sound as it vibrates. Back on her feet, her hands reach for the soldier. Red streaks are smeared onto the window. Her mouth is stained with blood from her meal.
Dan won’t waste a shot on these two. They are presumably locked inside the room. He rejoins Bill in the waiting area. The old dog isn’t looking too good; sweat beads on his forehead, his eyes are ringed with dark circles.
“How are you feeling?” Dan asks him as he picks up the ammo box.
“Like a million bucks.” The man responds. He hobbles to the door leading out into a new hall. He coughs leaving the back of his hand wet with red tinged sputum. Bill checks to see if it’s safe before they head onward.
The hall branches in three directions, each labeled with arrows. To the right is the morgue. To the left is a gift shop and the cafeteria. Straight ahead is where they will locate the elevators.
Four banks of elevators sit idle and useless. Staircases are found on either wall behind heavy steel doors. Bill reads a sign aloud.
“In case of emergency please take stairs.” He looks to his partner. “I guess this qualifies.”
The dying man chooses one stairwell and walks over to it. The door has a small rectangle of glass to look through. He doesn’t see any motion on the other side. His hand goes to the knob, he hesitates. “How long do I have?”
“I don’t know.”
“Bullshit.” He knows Dan just wants to spare him the information.
“Hector said his boss turned after about an hour and a half. It may have been longer. And, you know everybody is different. Mr. Derosso was…”
“I can feel
it. I’m tired and I can barely hold my gun. My guts feel like they’re on fire.”
“Do you want me to…?”
“No, as long as I can breathe, I can help.” He forces a brave smile.
The two men head up the stairs slowly. Their speed is not just out of caution. Bill’s joints feel very stiff. It takes him more effort to bend them than usual. His boots feel like they are made out of concrete, and just get heavier with every step.
They make it to the first floor from the basement level and Bill needs to rest. He leans against the railing as Dan peeks out into the hall through the little window on the door. The hall is packed with the dead, he can’t see much space between corpses. Living dead sardines, Dan thinks. He moves to Bill’s side helping him to his feet. The soldier places the old man’s arm around his neck to aide him up the next flight.
“The ER must be busy. They’re lined up out the door.” Dan whispers to his friend.
“We’ll have to take a number I guess.” Bill laughs through his nose.
26
The janitor peers out through the slit of a window on the fourth floor. He tries to count the zombies, but can’t be exact. The dead pace the halls, entering and exiting rooms, he ballparks them to be about twenty strong. Many of them are children and it breaks the big man’s heart. This floor houses the NICU, PICU, pediatrics, and labor and delivery.
“Is it safe?” Toby asks.
“Not in the least.” The janitor responds. “Too many.” He tapes over the window as he did the others, and sits himself upon the stairs. He is exhausted from carrying the boy and his chair up all those steps.
“Let me rest a bit. Then, we’ll try something else.”
“Like what?” The boy asks. He lapses into a severe coughing fit. Each harsh exhalation makes his body spasm. His chair rocks as he hacks away. His abdominal muscles hurt from the involuntary work out. The janitor watches unable to help. He knows the kid is in desperate need of his medicine.
“The main pharmacy is on first.” The janitor speaks when the boy’s bout subsides. “Every floor has a satellite pharmacy. We’ll try the next one. How’s that sound?”
Toby hasn’t the air to verbally respond. He just nods.
27
Bill and Dan rest on the third floor. The two sit in the stairwell, Dan fidgets with his locket while Bill collects himself. His limbs feel numb and detached. It almost feels like they belong to a stranger. He lowers himself to the floor knowing he shouldn’t because of how difficult it will be to rise again. He lets out a sigh as he does. The one positive thing that he can think of is that his wounds no longer hurt.
#
There is a survivor of another sort on the third floor. Donny DePonte is a two-time heart attack survivor with only himself to blame. He disregarded the doctor’s advice about his diet and the 69 year old neglected the exercise regimen that was prescribed to him.
The past year old Donny has spent more time in this hospital than out of it. Two days ago he felt a twinge of pain in his chest and his left arm had gone numb. He knew these were the warning signs of another coronary episode so he went to the ER. He was immediately checked into the cardiac unit for observation.
Donny’s doctor scolded the old fool once again. He went on and on about fats and clogs. The set in his ways gentleman just nodded and pledged he would try harder.
At around 6 AM this morning, Donny felt the pain again. He called for the nurse using the button on his bed. When she arrived the man had no pulse. He was circling the drain fast. A code blue was called and the red crash cart was pushed up to his bedside.
Doctors and nurses appeared from all over to try and resuscitate Mr. DePonte. They managed to keep him ticking, but he needed an emergency bypass. His failing body was transferred to the thoracic surgery unit here on third.
The hospital was short staffed and they had to call people in on their days off, Donny’s doctor was one of those unfortunate few on-call. This should have been lucky for the patient; however, the man’s doctor was having a bad day. First, the horror of being called in. And, second, on his way in, some crazy person had bitten him in the parking lot.
The cardiac specialist and the scrub nurse cracked Donny’s chest open. Sweat poured from the doctor’s forehead in buckets, the nurse at his side had trouble keeping up with it. The doctor was dizzy. The smell of the room seemed especially pungent today as the world spun.
Donny just laid there, not hearing a thing. Machines beeped and buzzed as they did the work his organs normally would. One pumped his blood as another breathed for him. His chest was wide open and held that way by stainless steel rib splitters.
The bypass was completed with textbook perfection. The Doctor asked one of the nurses to close the wound he had made. He needed to get some air. The surgeon managed five steps to the door before collapsing to the hard sterile floor. All available nurses rushed to him, but they were too late. The man was dead and they weren’t able to revive him.
Donny Deponte is still on that table, alive. His ribs are still flayed open and the machines continue to do their job, drawing power from the emergency generators. His doctor is still in there as are a few of the nurses. The medical staff all crowd around the patient, eating him. They take bites out of his flesh as the machines keep his ill heart going.
#
The trek to the fourth floor proved to be even more daunting an expedition for Dan and Bill. The younger of the pair had looked out and saw all the dead pacing the floor like impatient parents. He leans up against a wall and allows his body to slide down. He knows they can’t shoot their way through even if they had enough guns. There are just too many of the bastards.
Bill hobbles over to the window and looks out. A sign on the wall points to the right reporting that L&D is in that direction. The corridor is thick with zombies.
“Damn.” He says. “There certainly seems to be a lot of them.”
“Yeah.” Dan feels defeated.
“Can you hold this for me, please?” Bill asks Dan, extending his muzzleloader to the soldier.
“Yeah, sure thing.” He says simply.
“Good luck.” Bill says.
“Yeah, you to.” He isn’t following a word Bill is said. The soldier just stares at the floor seeing nothing. The door clicks and Dan’s eyes slowly widened as he figures out what has just transpired. Bill has entered the zombie-plagued hall. The soldier hears the old man scream, but his bellowing isn’t from pain, or fear.
“Come and get me, Fuckers!” The screams fade away, getting quieter and quieter.
Dan knows the man is leading them away so he can get to L&D. The soldier can see the dead are all heading to his left, his path is clearing. He speaks under his breath. “Thank you, Bill.”
28
Bill Thompson moves down the barely lit hall, ignoring the pain and nausea. The staggering middle-aged man swerves around the corpses that reach for him. He shoves away those that get too close feeling like he is in a slow motion, instant replay. Some of the dead are able to get a grip on him, the man just jukes and they fall to the floor. He needs to give Dan as big a window as possible.
A zombie in a candy striper uniform clings to his ankle. Bill doesn’t stop. He drags the 90-pound blonde along with him. He doesn’t quit even as she sinks her teeth into his calf. They can’t hurt me anymore, he thinks.
Another stairwell is up ahead. Bill can see a red illuminated sign above the steel door. He has an idea if he can just reach it. The dead are slowing him now, multiple sets of hands and teeth cling to him. He can feel every numb scrap of flesh that leaves his body.
29
The parade of dead comes to an end; the last corpse limps its way past his window. Dan waits. He has to make sure he isn’t heard when he slips into the shadowy passage.
He follows the arrow towards Labor & Delivery. His pistol is tucked in his belt and he holds the rifle in one hand. Under his other arm he cradles the ammo box. He isn’t sure if he can load the long weapon, but feel
s safer with it.
Despite Bill’s sacrifice he walks with caution. The dead may still be around. Every shadow is suspect as he makes steady progress. He hasn’t come all this way just to get eaten.
The soldier passes a small gift shop. In the window he can see an assortment of tasteful gifts for people who have just had a baby. There are stuffed animals on racks, balloons along the ceiling, breast pumps, diapers, and greeting cards. Dan pauses to snag a teddy bear that is on display by the door.
To acquire the bear he risks leaning his rifle against the wall. His hand slowly reaches into the darkness of the entry, hesitating as if there is a force field. He almost expects an alarm to go off, alerting the zombies to his caper. No alarm sounds. He now carries the bear clenched in his teeth and the rifle is back in his hand.
The hall comes to a dead end at a wall made of frosted glass, Labor and Delivery is stenciled in white along the top. A door is built in to the left side and next to it is a service window. Behind the glass partition he can see golden light. He knocks on the door with his rifle’s muzzle and waits.
A figure slowly approaches, distorted by the frosted panes. It stops at the wall that divides the hall and just stands there.
“No.” Dan says in a whisper, fearing the worse. He knocks again, louder. The window slides open suddenly and a gun barrel pops out.
“Oh shit!” Dan exclaims, dropping to the floor. His ammo box clatters down marring the tile.
“Can I help you?” A female voice asks.
“I’m Dan…” He starts to speak through the bear in his mouth. He removes the plush toy's fuzzy ear from between his teeth and tries again. “I’m Dan Williamson. My wife is in there… Heather Williamson.”
Life Among The Dead Page 15