She looked into the camera and smiled as a video of an elderly woman petting a dog played in the top corner of the screen.
“In other news tonight, a woman in Leon Valley has been reunited with an old four-legged friend who she thought ran away months ago. The fairytale reunion happened after the man who was taking care of the stray happened to spot a faded posted inside the HEB located on Bandera and–”
John turned off the television and sighed.
He was tired of waiting.
“To hell with this,” he grumbled as he forced himself to sit up.
His head swam.
He closed his eyes and waited for the vertigo to subside before reaching for his cellphone to check the time.
One unread text message.
Becky.
Yawning, he clicked on the message and read it…
As he read it, his face grew pale and his eyes grew wide.
Help. In the cafeteria. 2nd floor. Very scared. Men holding us at gunpoint. When you get
The message stopped abruptly.
He tried calling her phone.
It rang, but nobody answered.
He called again… and again… and again.
No response.
He picked up the bedside phone and put the receiver to his ear.
The landline was dead.
John threw the receiver down and tried calling ‘911’ on his cellphone.
There was a busy tone.
Panicked, John put his phone away, stood up, and hurried towards the door.
The pulse monitor slid off of his finger as he stumbled towards the door.
The machine made a steady alarm tone.
As John approached the door, he heard a commotion in the hall.
He tried turning the knob.
It was locked.
“HELLO?!” John shouted as he started banging against the door. “IS ANYBODY OUT THERE?! OPEN THE DOOR! LET ME OUT!”
No response.
“Fuck!” he said in frustration. He tore off his hospital gown, grabbed his work uniform off of the table, and hastily changed clothes. He slid on his boots as he hopped his way back towards the door one foot at a time, struggling to get the weathered boots over his sockless feet.
He heard gunfire outside.
Panicked, John started kicking the door, screaming and shouting.
“LET ME OUT!” he repeated over and over as he kicked.
Something slammed back against the door, startling him.
John stepped away from the door in confusion.
Whatever was on the other side was snarling as it bashed frantically against the door.
The cheap door started to splinter and crack off of its hinges.
John backed against the bed, momentarily forgetting about his wife and the armed men holding her captive. His attention was fixated on the thing smashing against his door…
The door finally broke into wooden slivers as a naked, overweight man rushed into the room. The man had a large scar running down the center of his abdomen and the area was covered with surgical markings. His eyes were pitch-black. The man didn’t seem to mind as the pieces of wood sliced into his body and gouged into his robust body, making him look like some grotesque porcupine.
“Get the fuck back!” John ordered as he stumbled backwards and pushed the bed against the wall.
The obese man charged towards John, screaming.
John dove out of the way.
The obese man crashed against the flimsy hospital bed and broke it to pieces.
John ran towards the door, looking over his shoulder in fright and disbelief.
The obese man got up with unnatural speed and chased after John, quickly closing the distance.
He grabbed the back of John’s uniform collar.
John spun around and broke free from the man’s vice-like grip, ripping his own collar in the process.
The obese man shoved John hard in the chest, screaming.
John was flung back and landed in the hall. He sat up and scooted against the wall, struggling to catch his breath, terrified.
The obese man sprinted towards John.
John held out his hands in a vain attempt to keep the massive man back.
Suddenly, a gunshot resounded from down the hall.
The obese man’s head snapped to the side as soon as the bullet struck it and erupted out the other side.
He collapsed in the center of the hall, wooden slivers still protruding out of his body.
John looked down the hall towards the sound of the gunshot and saw two people in white hazmat suits armed with M-16s. He was uneasy at first, but was relieved as soon as he saw their CDC emblems.
Before John could even express his gratitude or ask questions, one of the white-suits shouldered his rifle and pointed it at him.
John’s blood ran cold.
“No, wait!” he shouted holding his hands up.
A patient darted out of a nearby room and pounced on the white-suit just as he pulled the trigger.
The white-suit’s gunfire pelted against the cement floor and ran up the side of the wall, shattering a framed Triburton company picture. The man let out a terrified shriek as the patient tore open his suit and started regurgitating the toxic substance inside.
The other white-suit quickly pointed his weapon down at the patient.
An infected nurse stepped out from an adjacent doorway and pulled the white-suit inside the dark room.
The white-suit was helplessly pulled inside, kicking and screaming, shooting wildly at the ceiling.
“Holy shit…” John muttered in abject horror, staring at the massacre with wide-eyes, trembling.
The patient turned his black eyes towards John’s voice and leapt back onto his feet. He started running down the hallway towards John, arms flailing.
The white-suit got up and followed behind the patient with his respirator hanging off of his protective suit.
John scrambled back up and started sprinting down the hallway, struggling to breathe.
The hallway was peppered with bullet-holes and most of the light fixtures were shattered. Most of the patient rooms had their doors smashed open, but many others were still shut with patients trapped inside. The people inside were banging against their doors, inadvertently beckoning their attackers. Bullet-riddled corpses were strewn all across the floor, twisted in bloody heaps.
John leapt over the corpses and didn’t dare turn around to look at his pursuers.
Behind him he heard doors shattering and animalistic screams as the horde grew in number.
A naked woman covered with blood ran out of a dark patient room as John ran past it.
John pushed her aside and ran faster, lungs burning.
At the edge of the corridor the hallway branched into two directions.
Towards his right he saw a hallway full of overturned medical carts and a group of crazed patients attacking each other and running from room to room, bashing down doors and finding new hosts.
Towards the left he saw an elevator with its doors propped open by a bloody gurney with tattered nylon straps. The doors kept trying to close on the gurney, but they opened again as soon they struck it.
John sprinted towards the elevator, slid across the top of the gurney and landed inside the lift. He kicked the gurney away from the door’s tracks while simultaneously pushing the ‘2’ button repeatedly.
A horde of infected people wearing hospital gowns, nursing scrubs, and even a few wearing compromised white-suits closed in on the open elevator, running and trampling over each other as they tried to get to their prey. The only thing that the group had in common was their black, soulless eyes and feral expressions of inexplicable cannibalistic rage.
John frantically mashed on the ‘close’ button as the ghouls moved closer.
The bell chimed and the doors started to close.
Just a few feet away from the elevator, a young man wearing a tattered patient gown led the pack. He opened his mouth and spewed
tarry bile towards the closing elevator doors.
John fell backwards as some of the substance managed to enter the car and pelt against the floor. He kept his back pressed against the rear of the elevator and listened as the bodies slammed against the doors.
The elevator hummed to life and slowly started its descent.
Soft jazz was playing on the overhead speaker as the black goo on the floor started to slowly slither around on the floor…
He looked down in disgust and made sure to avoid it at all costs.
The elevator came to a stop, chimed, and the doors slid open.
The second floor hallway looked ransacked. Every patient door was smashed open and many of the overhead lights were either shattered or flickering. Tattered hospital gowns and spent brass casings littered the floor. Bullet-riddled corpses of patients were strewn throughout the hall. The air had the coppery scent of blood mixed with gunpowder.
He wasn’t sure what was happening, but he sure as hell wasn’t trying to stick around to find out.
John pushed the red emergency stop button on the elevator’s control panel, just in case, and silently made his way out into the hall. Once he reached an intersection, he glanced up a swaying sign that pointed towards the different departments located on the floor.
Without hesitation he turned right and ran towards the cafeteria.
John passed numerous overturned hospital carts and toppled gurneys that had been pulled out of the nearby patient rooms as he hurried towards the cafeteria entrance ahead.
He walked past the ICU, he noticed that the double-doors were propped opened by an overturned hospital cart.
John glanced over and froze as soon as he recognized the corpse lying in the middle of the ICU.
“Mike…?” he muttered. He stopped and pushed his way through the ICU doors and stared down at Mike’s corpse in disbelief.
Mike’s body was contorted and the top of his head had been blown off. The blood around his corpse was black and stringy.
Two MP5s, spent brass, and shards of glass surrounded Mike’s corpse, but there wasn’t a single white-suit in sight.
“You poor bastard,” John said, shaking his head. As he stepped closer, the black substance started to move and creep towards John’s boot.
Alarmed, John backed away.
The black, organic substance stopped moving and sat motionless once again.
John looked down at the floor and picked up one the MP5s that the white-suits dropped, studying it. Growing up on a farm, he was well-acquainted with firearms thanks to his dad. Granted, he never fired something as advanced as an MP5 submachine gun, but considering what he saw so far he was pretty sure it’d come in handy.
He stepped out of the ICU and started running towards the cafeteria again, albeit a little more cautiously.
The whole floor looked abandoned and he knew he was probably too late.
Worried, he slung the weapon over his shoulder, pulled his cellphone out of his pocket, and tried calling Rebecca again.
A distinctive AT&T ringtone started chiming from the bag of cellphones lying behind him that the white-suit had collected earlier.
Confused, John turned towards the bag, listening as the phone rang and vibrated against the floor.
He reached down and pulled the ringing phone out of the bag…
His face sunk in horror as he stared down at his wife’s phone.
Suddenly, the ringing stopped.
Both phones had the same message: ‘NO SIGNAL’
John dropped the phones and dug through the red bag, but none of the phones had a signal.
“Fucking bastards,” he muttered under his breath as he stood back up with the bag of phones, shaking his head.
Attracted by the ringing, frantic footsteps approached from the distance…
John dropped the bag and started running towards the cafeteria.
A group of two snarling patients and a naked ghoul from the morgue turned around the corner and sprinted after John, dribbling black gore from their mouths as their heads twitched.
John ran inside the cafeteria and nearly tripped over the pale corpses of the hospital staff that littered the floor.
With a dreadful heart, he glanced around, but didn’t see her among the dead.
He bounded over the serving line and crouched against the floor, hiding as he gripped his weapon tightly with both hands.
The group of infected burst through the cafeteria doors and froze as they scanned the room, listening.
A barrage of gunfire echoed down the hall.
The infected turned and ran out of the cafeteria with the exception of the ghoul from the morgue.
The ghoul collapsed onto his hands and knees and opened his mouth as he regurgitated every last ounce of the vile black substance from his body.
It splattered onto the floor and slithered amongst the corpses of the hospital staff.
With a final exasperated gasp, the ghoul spat out the last drop and collapsed on the floor, motionless.
As the black substance entered through the nose, mouth, eyes, and ears of the deceased hospital staff, the corpses started convulsing as they reanimated.
In less than a few seconds, one became many.
The doctors and nurses slowly got onto their feet and stood in the middle of the cafeteria, twitching.
There was more gunfire in the distance.
The newly reanimated staff members sprinted out of the cafeteria towards the noise, screaming.
Alone with the naked ghoul, John stood up in the cafeteria.
He took a hard swallow and tried to mentally reassure himself.
Becky is a fighter.
There’s no way she’d go down easy.
She’d fight.
She’d win.
She’d survive.
John repeated the mantras over and over in his head as he stood behind the serving line and contemplated his next move.
He tried to remain optimistic, despite the overwhelming evidence all around him, but his heart ached at the mere possibility…
He knew she had to be nearby, and he wouldn’t rest until he found her…
Living or dead.
Not knowing where else to turn, John cautiously made his way through the kitchen doorway, weapon ready.
The kitchen was dim and the sinks were overflowing with brown water. Pots and pans were lying everywhere amongst broken dishes and split trays of silverware. Overhead, the lights were dim and cold air churned weakly out of the vents.
“Becky?” John called out quietly as he sloshed through the kitchen, surveying the area with his weapon. His leg brushed against a stack of stainless-steel pans, making them chatter as they tumbled against the floor.
“Shit,” he whispered as he spun towards the door with his weapon, expecting the corpses to chase after the sound.
He waited, but nobody came.
Eventually he turned his attention back towards the dismal kitchen.
He was alone.
Something warm ran down his cheek...
His throat burned and his breathing became erratic.
Before he even knew what was happening, he let the slung weapon fall down to his side and collapsed on the edge of a silver table, sobbing. He buried his face into the crook of his arm and tried to mask the noises his body was making, but it was no use.
Against the far wall, the large, industrial refrigerator door slowly opened and bathed the dark room with light.
Rebecca struck her head outside and looked at John with disbelief, shivering.
“J-J-John?” she stammered.
Chapter 12
“John?!” she repeated as she stumbled out of the refrigerator, pale and shaking.
John blinked and looked towards her voice.
His gloomy expression immediately brightened as he quickly got back on his feet.
“Becky?!” he exclaimed, wiping his face with his sleeve.
The two ran towards each other and embraced tightly.
&n
bsp; Rebecca buried her face into the crook of his neck and started sobbing as she squeezed her eyes shut.
“I-I-It was awful, t-they just started shooting us and t-t-then I– I just didn’t know where to go, what to do… I wanted to help, John, I wanted to, but I hid… I just…”
John held her freezing body closer and repeatedly kissed the top of her head.
“It’s okay, it’s okay. I’m here, baby, I’m here,” he whispered as he cradled her gently in his arms. “We’re going to get out of this, okay? I promise you. We’re going to get out…”
Rebecca pulled back and looked up into his eyes; her blue eyes were red and watery.
“John… what’s going on?” she asked.
He shook his head.
“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “It’s some sort of sickness, but it’s turning them into lunatics.” He paused. “It’s some kind of black stuff... The way it moves and slithers around, it looks alive, like a parasite or something.”
Rebecca studied his face and nodded, looking down.
“They told us it was hemorrhagic fever…” she said. “I’ve seen some of the sick people when they came into the cafeteria… Whatever it is, it isn’t what they claim. I’ve… never seen anything like it before.”
John paused, confused.
“Who said it was hemorrhagic fever?”
“The men in the protective suits,” she said, narrowing her eyes as she shook her head with disgust. “The men who shot at us… They claim that they’re from the CDC, but I think that’s a lie too.”
“Yeah… I doubt they’re telling the truth, considering what they’re carrying,” John said as he held up the MP5 slung around his shoulder. “Hell, I don’t reckon government doctors would be carrying around weapons in the first place.”
“Who are they then?” she asked.
“Military would be my guess,” John said. “Either way, it doesn’t really matter. From what I’ve seen, they’re not doing much better than we are. It’s bad out there, Becky…”
Rebecca looked up at him expectantly.
“Can’t we call someone…? Call for help?” she asked.
“Who would come? More people to shoot at us?” he asked with a frown. “Besides, the landlines are down and the cellphone stopped working.”
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