by R. M. Smith
I was in and out of consciousness. My arm ached. My back and ass were cold. The tile felt like ice.
Wendy screamed, “I’ll kill you, you mother fucker!”
Doc stood between Wendy and Angie, monitoring the blood flow. Jars filled with blood lined the floor. Blood had splattered on the floor.
Whittridge sat on a stool. The cereal box lay on the floor next to him, empty. A jug of water sat half full next to it.
Ben slept next to me leaning sideways against a cabinet, his neck cocked at a weird angle.
He might get a sore neck if he doesn’t change positions, I thought. Good, I hope he breaks his neck, the son of a bitch.
I passed out again.
I woke up to yelling.
Whittridge and Doc were arguing.
Doc hollered, “They need more time before they can do more transfusions. They’ll die if you keep running them through. You’re a doctor! You know this!”
Whittridge yelled back, “We need more people then! Go out into the city. Find more people to donate more blood!”
“I’m not going out there,” Doc screamed back into his face.
“Get up on the table then! I’ll do your transfusion!”
Doc screamed, “Like hell you will.”
“Put the older kid up there. He hasn’t had a transfusion in 12 hours. He should be ok.”
“He needs more time!”
Whittridge yelled, “Angie’s going to relapse if we don’t keep the blood flowing! She’s better now! Look at her!”
“You do it then,” Doc yelled. “Get up on the table yourself! She’s your goddamn wife. Get up on the table and use your own blood to keep her alive!”
In and out of consciousness I began to fade out. Whittridge jumped up onto the gurney next to Angie. “No funny stuff Doc. I’m warning you.”
I passed out.
Shuffling wakes me up again.
Whittridge is laying down next to Angie. Blood lines run between them. Doc is moving jars around on the floor.
I fade out.
Clinking jars wake me back up again.
Whittridge is still on the table. Doc is moving the full jars of blood up onto the top of a cabinet. He is running a tube from the jars down into Whittridge.
In the corner Rainey is sitting in her wheelchair. Her hand is holding up her chin.
She looks bored.
She notices me awake. “Jon,” she smiles. “Do you have any more sea shells for me?”
I go back to sleep.
The gurney bumps into my foot, waking me up. Doc is struggling with Whittridge. His arms are longer, sticking out the end of his leather coat. Doc is pushing him down, holding him. The blood lines pull out of his elbow and blood splashes all over the floor.
Whittridge clacks his teeth. He tries to bite Doc. Whittridge turned into a zombie! How did he become a zombie? What happened? I try to get up to help but I am so weak. I can’t even move.
Doc yanks the gurney away from me and shoves it across the small room. Whittridge rides it to the other side, his arms and legs flailing. Doc has him tied down with surgical straps. Whittridge can’t get up!
Doc pulls the crowbar out of the loop in his pants. He slams it down onto Whittridge’s head.
I turn my head to look at Angie. Her head is already smashed. Brains, blood and tissue litter the floor. Her arms hang over the side of her table. They are so long.
Doc slams Whittridge again. I hear a crack. Whittridge’s head cracks in two. Doc slams it again. And again. And again.
Blood coats the wall.
Finally, Whittridge lies motionless on the gurney. Doc lets his crowbar drop to the floor. It clangs on the tile. Doc sits down hard on the floor. He falls over, exhausted.
Blood is dripping.
I try to keep my eyes open, but I am so tired.
I fall back to sleep.
I wake up bundled in blankets. I am warm.
Doc walks the floor between Wendy, Ben and I. We are all wrapped up in blankets on gurneys out in the hall. Doc has IV’s suspended above us.
His coat is so dirty. So bloody.
His crowbar dangles at his side.
He looks so tired.
He turns, notices me looking at him.
He winks at me.
A small smile.
I feel reassured.
We are safe.
I go back to sleep.
It took days for all of us to regain our strength. Doc told us to lie still and keep warm under stacks of blankets he laid on top of us. Standing on tall thin metal poles beside our gurneys, IVs replenished our lost blood.
Doc told us he carried each one of us one by one into the hall and laid us on different gurneys. In a small break room he found a large bag of small marshmallows. He gave them to us and offered us drinks of very cold water in small paper cups.
Standing between us he said, “I finally convinced Whittridge to give up some of his own blood to help save Angie even though she was already dead. I knew she was dead, I told him, but he wouldn’t believe it. He kept pressing me, pushing me to drain more of you guys’ blood into her. He argued with me the whole time, telling me I was some wannabe doctor who didn’t know shit. He kept saying ‘Angie is unconscious, she’s sleeping.’ Finally I got him to lay down on the table. I started a transfusion between them and when he passed out I tied him up with surgical straps. I grabbed the jars Angie drained into. I knew her blood was infected. I started transferring hers back into him. His body didn’t take it at first. The blood kept clotting. I needed to figure out a way to raise it higher than his heart so I moved the jars up onto the top of a cabinet. When I did the blood ran right down into him.” He shuffled on his feet. “I slammed Angie’s head with my crowbar after he passed out. I didn’t want to take the chance of her waking up while I took care of her old man. He turned into a zombie quick, I mean real quick. He caught me by surprise. Was a good thing I had him tied down. He fought me. I got in a lucky kick. I knocked his gurney across the room with him on it. I beat the shit out of his head. Pretty much lopped the top of it right off.”
I said, “It was good thinking running the blood back into him, Doc. You outsmarted him there.”
He nodded. “Well, he deserved it. He was a liar, telling you guys he’d sic Angie on you unless you told him stuff – personal stuff - things I didn’t need to hear. I’m glad the fucker’s gone.”
“Me too,” Wendy said, her face pale. “What did he make me say?”
“I’d rather not repeat it,” Doc said with his eyes lowered. “It’s…your personal business.”
She asked, “Was it about my Mom?”
Doc nodded quickly.
“God damn it,” Wendy said, frustrated. She covered her face with her hand. “That son of a bitch.”
Ben remained silent. He might have been asleep. I didn’t know but I was very angry with him and didn’t care if he was sleeping or not. Furiously I said, “Ben, Whittridge told me you read Rainey’s letters. The ones she wrote me.”
He raised his head. “What?”
“Rainey. Whittridge said she wrote letters to me but didn’t send them. Did you read them?”
“No.”
“Did you tell Whittridge I was in love with her?”
Ben shuffled nervously. “No.” He swallowed. “I don’t remember saying anything. Jon, I wouldn’t tell anyone that. That’s personal stuff like Doc said!”
I said, “Whittridge told me you said it. How would Whittridge know? How would he know about the letters?
“He m-manipulated us,” Ben said, still shifting. “He, uh, made me say it.”
“I don’t believe you,” I said.
“Doc, tell him,” Ben said. “Tell him Whittridge manipulated me.”
Doc didn’t say a word. He simply stared down at him.
“Is it a joke to you?” I asked.
“A joke? No. Come on, Jon. Ease off man.”
Doc said, “Ben, you said a lot of this before any of the effects o
f the transfer took place.”
“I was scared, alright,” Ben said trying to get up on an elbow. “I didn’t want Whittridge feeding me to his wife.”
I shouted staring up at the ceiling, “What did you tell him?”
“Does it really matter? Come on, man, Whittridge is dead.”
“Yeah it fucking matters! This was Rainey! This was your god damn sister! This was me, your cousin from California, remember?”
Ben said, “Well shit, I’m sorry alright?”
I said, “You’ve blown my trust, man. I don’t want to be around you anymore.”
“Aww come on.”
“You made fun of me,” I said, my voice cracking. “You read letters Rainey sent to me when she was hurting after you and your fucking dad beat her!”
Ben hesitated when he said, “Yeah but it was only once.”
I screamed, “Only once what?”
“Once when Dad and me beat her legs.”
“How could you do that to her?” I cried. “She was helpless!” Tears were rolling down my cheeks.
“She didn’t feel it.”
I wanted to jump off my gurney and beat Ben to a living pulp for saying that. Doc sensed my anger. He stepped between Ben and me.
Wendy had her hand over her eyes.
“I don’t want to even look at you anymore,” I said to him.
“Well I’m sorry, ok. I’m sorry, Jon.”
“Fuck you. Don’t apologize to me. You need to apologize to Rainey.”
He said, “She’s dead.”
“Yes. I know. You killed her.”
“She was a zombie!”
“It doesn’t matter, Ben. You killed her. You beat her and you killed her. You’re just like your rotten shitbag old man.”
“Oh don’t even go there,” Ben said getting angry himself.
“No, you are. You’re pathetic like he was, you’re selfish like he was, and you care only about yourself. Like he did.”
Ben barked, “You don’t know what the hell you’re saying.”
“No? Oh I know enough,” I said.
“How could you? You’ve only been around for a few days.”
“Rainey told me enough.”
“Oh! In your love letters?” he asked in a smirking voice.
Doc stepped closer to me. He shook his head no. He didn’t want me to get up.
“Doc,” I said. “Take me away from this asshole. I don’t want to be around him anymore.”
“Me either,” Wendy said.
“Alright.”
“I can’t believe how much of a twisted fuck you are, Ben,” I said. “You’re one cold hearted bastard.”
Ben lay silent, his hands folded over his chest.
I yelled, “You’re as cold as the fucking dead out there you son of a bitch!”
Doc wheeled me away.
Doc set Wendy and me up in a single room with two beds in the Intensive Care Unit. Occasionally he went to check on Ben who was still out in the hall. Doc said he was recovering.
“Good,” I said. “When he’s feeling better I’m going to go kick his ass.”
Sitting down in a recliner next to us, Doc asked, “Back in the church Ben said something about you going somewhere?”
Wendy said, “My Dad’s cabin. It’s on a lake up near Fergus Falls.”
“Oh,” Doc said. “You hope to find your father there?”
“Yes,” Wendy said. “And my Mom.”
Doc nodded to her. “Oh…oh ok I see.”
I asked, “Do you want to come with us?”
“I don’t know. What’s at the lake that makes it safer than being in this hospital?”
I shrugged. I didn’t have an answer.
“It’s remote,” Wendy volunteered. “Hardly any people go there during the winter.”
Doc nodded, “Right. And there wouldn’t be any zombies.”
“Right,” Wendy said looking at him intensely.
“Is there heat?” he asked.
“Yes, two fireplaces, one upstairs and one down and a freezer with fish in it. Dad stored beef patties in there too because he liked to have cookouts and he didn’t like to run out of burgers.”
Doc nodded. “And how do you guys plan on getting there?”
“Our Jeep crashed out by the highway,” I said. “We should be able to push it back on its wheels.”
“You haven’t seen outside,” Doc said getting up from the chair, walking over to a window. “Looks like about two – maybe three feet of snow out there.” He pulled back the curtains. Outside, the world was white.
I sat up, wrapped the blankets around me and stood up. Dizziness washed over me for a second. I slowly walked over to the windows. Our room was above a garage area. Everything beyond was buried under a deep blanket of unbroken snow. A few wispy clouds skirted across the blue afternoon sky.
“I’m guessing that it’s a long walk back to the Jeep in this deep snow,” Doc said returning to his chair.
I stood at the window. My breath caused the glass to fog over where I was breathing. It reminded me of Gale and the zombie breaking through the glass to grab her.
“Maybe we should stay here for a while,” I said. “How long until the weather warms up?”
Doc chuckled. “Obviously you don’t know how the weather works around here. It’s nothing like California. When it gets cold here, it stays cold for a very long time.”
“And it’s not even Halloween yet,” I mumbled, still staring out through the window.
I drew a circle in the fogged over glass.
I made a sad face in it.
CHAPTER THREE
As Cold As The Dead
Doc, Wendy and I decided to go back for the Jeep.
Doc said, “Well before we leave, we need to fill our bellies and check our ammo. I don’t want to go out unprepared. We don’t know where the zombies are or if they’re out there at all.”
“There were zombies downstairs,” I said. “Some of the same ones we had to fight off when we first came in here. They were down there when Wendy and I went to get food. There’s five or six of them.”
“We’ll be able to handle them,” Doc said. “But we’ll need Ben’s help too. Do you want him to come?”
“Not really,” I said. “I’d rather leave him up here. I don’t trust him anymore. He ruined our relationship when he lied to me about Rainey.”
Wendy asked me, “Did you really love her?”
I answered honestly. “Yes. I did.”
“But wasn’t she your cousin?” she asked.
“Yes.”
An awkward silence rose between the three of us. Finally Doc said, “Look, we all have our own issues, but for now let’s take Ben along. At least he’ll be an extra gun and an extra pair of eyes. I’ll go get him.”
“Alright.” I checked my shotgun. Three bullets left. Wendy still had six in her pistol.
Ben came walking back in with Doc with his head down.
Doc asked, “We ready?”
I stared at Ben when he came in. He didn’t meet my gaze. “Yeah,” I said. “Let’s go.”
A stench of death met our noses when we descended the steps going down to the cafeteria. The stairwell was dark. Ben pulled out his flashlight. Doc held his crowbar.
The door at the bottom of the stairs stood open. The tiled floor was slicked with frozen blood. Snow had blown down through the hallway from the emergency entrance. Short drifts lined the base boards. It was so damn cold.
Emergency lighting flickered at the other end of the hall like a hangman’s lantern.
I dared a peek around the corner. Several of the same zombies were still down at the end feasting on bodies which were nearly stripped to the bone.
“The entrance to the cafeteria’s to the right,” Wendy whispered right behind me. It scared the hell out of me.
One of the zombies lifted its head. It clacked its teeth. Two others lifted their heads. They clacked their teeth and got to their feet. Their clothing ripped when
they stood. It had been frozen to the ground.
Doc yelled, “Go, go!”
We pivoted around the open door and slid into the cafeteria. Slamming the door shut behind us, the same zombie that had chased Wendy and I out of the cafeteria earlier met us. Doc slung his crowbar up. It connected with the zombies chin, splitting its head in two.
The zombie thumped to the floor.
We stood looking down at it.
Brain matter seeped out of the elongated head. It was dark in color, wet, not much blood. The zombie’s legs had grown out the bottom of the pant legs showing gray skin marked with dark spots and running pus. The zombie’s arms were longer, too, the fingernails two inches longer than normal. Several of the fingernails were broken off.
“They grow longer,” Doc muttered. He prodded the body with his crowbar. “Arms and legs. The head. Look at its teeth.”
Using the crowbar, he pushed the zombie’s upper lip up. His front teeth were twice their normal length, yellow and sharp, coated in blood.
Wendy breathed, “At least it’s clear in here now. This was the only zombie in here.”
Out in the hall the zombies that had chased us began to beat on the door.
Looking over his shoulder, Ben said, “Yeah, right, if those ones out there don’t get through.”
“Should be fine,” I said shoving my shotgun behind my backpack.
Doc asked, “Where’s the food?”
Wendy said, “In the kitchen. Where else?”
The four of us walked through the cold cafeteria into the kitchen. Ben wanted to stand guard by the door just in case.
Doc Wendy and I went through dry good cupboards and walk-in coolers looking for food. We were able to take our time now that all of the immediate zombie threats had been eliminated.
I kept an eye on Ben. I didn’t trust him.
He stood by the door, his shotgun at the ready. He wore several coats, the top one from the Army reserve.
I had to laugh to myself. Don’t know why it caused me to laugh because it wasn’t funny but there Ben was, standing guard, protecting us when a few hours ago he had stabbed me in the back and told some deep secrets of mine to a complete stranger.