Waking up was painful. The sound of the clock ticking on her wall was like gunfire going off. She opened her eyes and the light attacked her retinas, causing her pupils to pinpoint after the darkness. The clock continued it’s relentless report tellin Nicky that it was 10:31 a.m. on Thursday, August tenth. All of her joints ached. A groan escaped her, sounding like gravel in her throat. She felt a wetness between her legs, and she nervously moved her hand down to feel what was going on. With trepidation she thought Had the operation gone okay? Was she bleeding from the wound? Had something gone wrong? Questions flooded through her foggy mind.
Her therapist had warned her that not all gender reassignment operations went smoothly.
Taking the hormones had opened the door to her true happiness, and she had been living and passing successfully as a woman full time for just over two years.
The surgery was her final step. She had been saving for what seemed like forever. Never once had she wavered or doubted that this was the right thing to do. Despite all the bullying throughout her life, the depression, and the drug dependency, she still knew that this was the endgame.
Oh God, the doubts crept in; have I made an enormous mistake? Should I have just stayed as I was? Panicked thoughts ran through her mind.
Her hand reached between her legs. Expecting to find bandages from the surgery, but instead, her hand found the familiar lump there. The usual feeling of revulsion shuddered through her at the touch. A sob escaped her. Bringing her hand back from under the covers she saw there was no blood. She must have wet herself. Disgusted, she realised that the operation had not been carried out. Why? She wondered. What has happened? What could have stopped it from going ahead?
Nicky called out for a nurse. She needed to know what was going on, but there was only silence to her call-out. Sitting up sent a blinding pain shooting through her head, and she groaned whilst massaging her temples. Seeing her notes hanging at the end of the bed, she reached over painfully for them.
What she saw was, in the majority, unintelligible, mostly doctor talk. She could, however, see the graph showing a sharp rise in her temperature to just over one hundred and ten degrees.
The medicines were given to reduce it, and Nicky automatically checked the time the last medicine was administered against her super-loud ticking wall clock. Wait...this doesn't make sense! She checked again and shook her pounding head. Unbelievably, the last entry was from three days ago! Nicky felt a coldness drop over her. This can’t be right. Three days? Have I been out of it for three days? She thought to herself. She looked down at the sheets in front of her and confirmed to herself that no notes of any kind had been entered in the last two days.
Sitting in the hospital bed, Nicky tried to figure out what could be going on. She tried to recall all that had transpired; she remembered that she’d been all ready for surgery and had been given her pre-med, laughing a lot, and that wonderful floaty feeling. Nothing came to her after that. Where the hell are the damn nurses?! Her panic was rising.
“Nurse!” Her voice was still croaky. She shuffled over to the edge of the bed and put her feet on the cold linoleum covered floor. She poured water from an unopened plastic bottle into a glass and glugged it down in one go. Not enough. Forgetting the glass she pressed the bottle directly to her lips and drank until the plastic cracked and popped, telling her it was empty.
She stood and felt a groggy pull causing her to swiftly turn and lean over the bed with her head buried in the blankets. Deep breaths in and out, in and out, slowly brought her back to herself. She looked over to the ensuite bathroom and straightened up. The water was just running through her now, and the need for a pee was pressing.
Another deep breath to steady herself, and she made her way to the doorway stiffly, her joints putting up a fight after the prolonged inactivity.
All I need to do now is groan and I will pass as a zombie! she chuckled to herself, as she awkwardly knocked through the entrance. The urge was strong as she landed heavily on the toilet seat, sitting instead of standing as she had been training herself to do for the last few years. Absentmindedly, she nudged her flaccid penis into the gap, not even registering the familiar loathing that it gave her to even have to touch it. Once relieved, she stood and leaned over to turn the shower on. Three days in a fever-induced coma had caused a stink that made Nicky’s nose wrinkle.
After a quick wash in the shower, she slipped into her ‘going home’ outfit of comfortable tee-shirt, sweatpants and sneakers.
A loud scraping noise by the door to her room caught her attention, and Nicky swung her head around the bathroom doorway to see what was making the sound. There was nothing obvious to be seen, but just as she looked away, a thud sounded against the door making the frame judder.
She made her way slowly from the bathroom to the small window set high in the thick wooden door, and pressing her forehead against the glass she peered out into the corridor.
What she saw made her blood run cold.
What the fuck?! She started to feel nauseous as she made out the gory scene in front of her.
A gurney had been pushed up against her door. The occupant had a belt restraining them at the waist, but their top was half hanging over the side, their arms outstretched and holding onto the leg of what looked like an orderly lying face down on the ground. At his head, was a nurse kneeling, her face stuck in, and sucking at his neck. As she pulled her head back, Nicky saw a mouthful of flesh and sinuous trailings, that the nurse pushed hastily into her mouth. Her face was entirely covered with blood and her eyes were pure white. Slowly, she turned her head towards Nicky’s door.
Nicky quickly turned and dropped down below the window.
Shaking uncontrollably, she realized she had been holding her breath, and gasped to breathe in the air she so desperately needed.
“Ohmygod, ohmygod, ohmygod...” the mantra was automatically mouthed.
What the hell is going on?
None of this made any sense. She slid away from the door and crawled slowly to her bedside locker. Her phone lay on the top, still plugged in to the charger. Reaching up, she grabbed it and pressed the ‘on’ button. The phone buzzed in her hand. Fifty-one new messages!
Some from friends wishing her luck with the operation. The ones remaining were mostly from Imogen, she was her older sister, and had been the only one to stay by her side and support her through the transition. They were as close as sisters could be; they shared everything.
‘Nicky… I don’t know if you will even see this - I hope to God you do, and that you are okay…But, I have just been bitten by one of these infected people. I just went out to call the cat in! Oh God this really hurts! The news said that if you are bitten you will die. Will I die Nicks? I’m so scared. They said that some people are showing signs of immunity with the flu like symptoms, but I don’t think I am, I didn't even have the flu. I have seen the videos of people that have died and getting back up and biting others. Will that happen to me?
Nicks, I love you. I always will. I am going to lock myself in my bedroom now, so if the worst happens I won’t be able to get out and hurt anyone else. My hands are shaking! If you can, and I hate to ask you, but could you check on me? If I have turned, will you end it for me? I understand if you can’t. It’s a big ask, and I’m sorry. You have been the best brother/sister (lol) a girl could ever have…see you on the other side, sis xoxox’
“Ohhh Immy…no…no….Please…I love you too.” Nicky sat on the cold floor staring at her phone for a long time. Tears streamed down her face. Her sister, her best friend, gone? She couldn’t believe it. She remembered, in a snapshot of scenes running through her head in a matter of seconds, herself and her sister throughout the years, and more recently, the most wonderful hugs she would give that seemed to make any pain or upset go away.
The rejection of her parents when she’d tried to explain to them about her transgender journey nearly broke her, but her sister stood by her side, and even let her stay with her whilst sh
e cried, and slowly became accustomed to the virtual loss of their parents.
She still held onto the hope that they would one day come around and love her once again; it seemed that would never be possible now.
More scraping at the door drew her attention away from the now darkened phone.
Wiping her face, she thought that she must try to get out of here without getting bitten. She was determined that she would abide by Immy’s last wishes and go to check on her. Turning back to her phone, she scrolled on and saw that there were no further messages from her sister since the last one. That didn’t bode well, and she felt the sorrow crashing over her once again.
As she was rising from the floor she thought, wait! The high temperature and these aches, was that the flu like symptoms that her sister mentioned in her message? Could she be immune to the bites?
She couldn’t be sure, and with only one way to find out, Nicky thought it would be prudent to just assume that, no, she wasn’t protected from a bite.
But, if there was a slim chance? you never know, maybe Imogen is immune too! She would have to go and check. She was determined to help her sister if she could, and she wouldn’t be able to rest until she knew for sure.
Nicky had seen the movies. She had even read some of the horror books. Though she was never really into any zombie stuff, she knew that she needed to get her shit together if she was going to get out of here alive.
Her backpack was stuffed in the bottom of her bedside locker.
She would need water, food, a weapon of some kind too. What else? she mused. Oh Shit! I can’t do without my hormone patches!
For the past two years she had been on hormone therapy to change her shape, skin, and hair. I’m not going back to having to shave everyday again! No sir!
So, a trip to the pharmacy was in order, too.
Okay, she thought, with only the water crossed off her list so far, Nicky wondered how, and even if, she would get out of this room alive!
She crawled over to the door again and looked out through glass. The gurney was still by the door, the patient still leant over with their head down, munching on the orderly’s leg. But, now the nurse was gone, and so was the orderly’s head!
Nicky felt the bile rise up her throat, the acid burning, as there was no food in her stomach to expel. She ran to the bathroom and spluttered out the noxious substance. Leaning down and gulping from the tap, she swilled and spat.
She took a deep breath and went back to the door.
For God's sake! You will have to toughen up if you are going to survive this shitstorm! She gave herself a stern talking to.
Ignoring the corpse on the ground, she pushed her face up to the glass and looked as far to the right as possible. The nurses station looked all clear. That’s good. Then, she checked to the left. Oh fuck...Not clear. Nicky could see a cluster of people just standing there. Every single one of them just static, no movement except a slight head tilt as though listening for something, and just behind them: the required exit doors.
Oh brilliant! How the fuck am I going to get past that lot? She wondered.
She stared blankly whilst her mind whirled.
Then she had her ‘light bulb moment’. She went back to her bed and picked up the wired remote control attached to the frame. She pushed the assistance button, this immediately raised an alarm on the nurses station.
The ‘beep-beep-beep’ of the buzzer shouting from the crescent shaped desk, created enough of a distraction that the group of aimless zombies started to shuffle towards the station hoping, she assumed, that this was some kind of dinner bell.
Putting her backpack on and making her way back to the door, she peeked over the edge of the window and saw the group pass by her door. She held her breath as they passed by.
She gave herself a silent fist pump, and congratulated herself. Yes! That was a piece of piss!!
Now she was only left with the one obstruction outside her door, and what was strapped on top of the gurney.
Silently, she turned the handle on her door and pulled it towards her. No noise arose and she slowly dropped back down to a crawling position. The smell hit her, and it was toxic. Oh my God! What is that? She immediately started to breathe through her mouth, but this did little to quell the oily coating the pungent smell seemed to leave behind. The coppery odour of the blood mixed with urine and excrement made for a lasting taste. She actually felt herself going green.
To help distract herself, she concentrated on the job at hand.
The gurney was widthways in front of her door, so she slowly started to push away at the foot end until it was at a right angle to the wall and completely blocked the corridor. This was all done slowly and with such care that not even the undead patient on top noticed the movement.
So far, so good. Nicky couldn’t believe her luck. Please just let me get to the exit then I can worry about the stairs and the canteen and pharmacy...then back to find my sister. Jesus Christ! Not asking for much eh? She thought wryly.
Still crawling she made her way to the ward’s exit doors. Just before reaching them she heard a noise from a small room on the right hand side; someone was talking. Taking shallow breaths as she approached the room, she glanced towards the location of the voices. It was a television, still working and displaying what looked like an emergency broadcast.
“Stay indoors and do not approach anyone. This virus is highly contagious and passes on through close contact.
If someone is displaying flu-like symptoms, take precautions; use gloves and masks.
This is the initial form of the infection and it is extremely virulent. It is an unknown strain, and there is no vaccination.
If the flu is survived you may be immune from further infection. If you have not suffered these symptoms, avoid contact with others. Breaks in the skin through bites will lead to certain infection and death.
The virus will reanimate the body after death, presenting with stiffness in the extremities and loss of colour to the irises, causing the eye to appear entirely white. The infection will then be passed on through saliva, bodily fluids and bites. There appears to be no cognitive memory; any former connections are lost and the behaviour is uncontrollable. The infected are compelled to attack and bite and then consume whoever is in their path, furthering the spread of this vicious sickness.
To exterminate, one must damage the brain.
This is a pandemic event.
There is no treatment as yet; government agencies are working around the clock to develop a vaccine and a cure.
Areas of safety, and refugee camps are being planned and a list of these will be announced as soon as possible.
Until then, you must take steps to keep yourself and your family secure and safe. God bless us all.”
“This is an emergency announcement….”
The message scrolled around again and again, holding the rapt attention of at least fifteen infected people in the small room. All of them stared blankly at the screen unsure of what to make of the noise emitting from it, but hoping it would somehow lead them to fulfilling their hunger.
Just as she was about to move past from her crouched position, she saw a small pair of legs in the middle of the group.
Colourful little Hello Kitty socks gathered around pink shoes with LED heels that were still weakly lighting up with every sway back and forth, but the shine was dulled by the dark brown of dried blood. Moving her head, she saw that the little girl was still holding the hand of the grown up beside her.
Sadness enveloped Nicky. Was this cognizant behaviour? Did they recognize familiar faces after all? Was comfort still required in some form? Still staring at the small child, she saw the hand holding was not as it seemed.
The little girl drew the adults hand down towards her mouth. But held within the grasp of that hand was the orderly’s head from the hallway.
Nicky watched aghast as the child brought the head to her mouth to work on the dull, sightless eyes.
For the second ti
me she felt the bile rise from her stomach. With nothing left to eject, she fought to get herself under control.
Breathing deeply and with watery eyes, Nicky continued on all fours, wondering what cruel kind of sickness this was. It seemed to show no discrimination of race, colour, age, creed or persuasion. She finally reached the exit doors, and she checked around and behind noting it was still clear, so she stood up and grabbed the handle and tugged, now totally desperate to get out and away from this horror, she tugged hard.
The doors were locked. Shit! Locked? How...why are they fucking locked?!
The noise of the doors being pulled against the electronic mechanism drew a couple of the infected out of the TV room. They saw and heard Nicky yanking on the door handle and began to moan as they made their way over.
Cold sweat started to drip down her back as she turned to watch their approach, as she tried to melt into the corner beside the doors. Her adrenalin was pumping causing her pulse to jump wildly in her throat and chest. Then she saw it. The little button with a lock release on it. Of course! She felt so stupid, but decided to save the self-reprimand for after she’d safely escaped.
Swiftly, she pushed the button and the click told her the door was now free. She grabbed the handle and pulled. The door opened and she slipped out and tried to get the door shut quickly behind her. Thankfully, the weight of an infected man pushed against the door and shut it rapidly and the lock click was heard.
That was too close for comfort. She looked back through the narrow window in the door and saw the man in a hospital gown trying to bite her through the glass. His milky white eyes fixed on Nicky without a blink. Such was the force that he attacked the glass, that his teeth cut through his top lip. He showed no pain or any sign that he was causing such damage to his face.
Biting Back (Book 1): Four Women of the Apocalypse Page 4