by Joe McKinney
I hopped back in the truck, threw it into reverse, and punched it. The body slid in its own muck, then rolled quickly off the hood, leaving a nice muddy-blood smear in its stead.
“The others are yours,” I said, throwing the Chevy into drive. “Your window.”
I came to within ten feet of them, cranked hard left, and lined Gem up. In a show of talent, she used very short bursts with her new best friend Suzi, and sent each one of them to the Hell they should have – and might have already been – living in.
When we got back on the road, we didn’t say anything. I held her hand in mine as they rested on the seat between us. The hospital loomed ahead, and I knew then that our little shopping trip was just getting started.
And I was already fucking sick and tired of this new zombie world. I wondered when they would all be dead, or if they ever would be. I didn’t know what had created them, what continued to create them, and how we had avoided becoming one of them. We’d all struggle to learn the answer. But one thing was for sure. I knew well that Hemp, Gem and I could not kill them all by ourselves and set the world back onto its faltering axis.
I pulled up to the emergency entrance and looked at Gem. She squeezed my hand again.
“I love you, baby,” she said.
“I know. Right back atcha. Now let’s get us an EEG machine and I’m thinking some pain killers.”
Her eyes brightened. “I forgot all about the weed I stole from the evidence locker! Let’s go. Now I have something to get back home for. Besides our family.”
I shook my head and laughed, and we got out. And that was one more reason I loved my Gem.
She sure the fuck knew how to make me laugh.
Chapter 13
The hospital was dark. Really dark. We’d worn the headlamps I’d gotten from the hardware store, and with fresh batteries, they were kickass. Plenty of light.
But the smell was putrid. I could practically see the ooze flowing out of the broken skulls of the decomposing bodies on the floor everywhere our eyes fell. I wasn’t sure how it was done, but their brains, in every case, were absent from their skulls, cracked open like raw eggs. I wondered how they accessed this part of the human body, and then I knew.
It was clear. They did not use tools; I’d not seen any level of awareness or intelligence that would suggest they had this ability. It was a primal, instinctive action. They clearly slammed the heads of their victims into the floor until they cracked and shattered and provided access to the meat that these beings craved.
Gray matter. Brains.
I had no idea what this part of the human body provided them or what drew them to it. But based on what we saw, it was what they wanted. Had to have.
It was what they craved.
But Gem and I didn’t want to see any more. We watched for movement as we made our way through the lobby and followed the signs to neurosurgery.
Gem walked slowly, moving her head from side to side, her light illuminating the hallway intersections we came to. So far nobody else appeared. And nothing else.
“You see why I did this now?” Gem asked.
“You mean put a headlamp on Suzi the Uzi?”
“Yep. I’ll tell you why.”
I hadn’t asked, but I was up for some conversation.
“I did it because I might be shooting at some zombie or other, and hear something off to the other side. I don’t necessarily want to have to find the fucker again if I look away and look back, so I want a light where I’m shooting, and one on my head, too.”
“I never questioned your motives, Gem. I had no doubt that there was a logical reason.”
I said this, all the while thinking it was actually a damned good idea, and I should’ve done the same thing. It would make her happy when I outfitted my K-7 with one.
My radio crackled, and I looked at Gem. “What the fuck?”
“Flex, you read me?”
It was Hemp’s voice. I grabbed the radio from my belt and pushed the talk button.
“Hemp! Where the hell are you?”
“I’m at your place,” he said, the voice crackly, but clear enough. “I got the antenna put together and up.”
“Dude, that’s eleven miles away! I thought for a minute you were out front or something. Beautiful!”
Gem almost clapped, but she didn’t want to take her hands off Suzi.
“We’re okay, Hemp. We’re in the hospital, and it smells like a morgue that went out of business and abandoned about a thousand corpses, but so far no movers.”
“Okay, good. I just wanted to test this, so get back to it. Have you found the EEG yet?”
“No, still heading to the right department.”
“Alright. Trina’s out here with me. The sunshine feels good, the gate’s locked, and I’m well armed. We’re fine here, but hurry your rear ends up and get back here safely, okay?”
“You got it, Hemp. Out.”
“Out,” came Hemp’s voice.
I looked at Gem. “That guy kills me. Damned smart!”
“Why do you think I kissed him before we left?” she said.
We walked past a row of gurneys lined up in the hallway. All empty except one. That one had a body in it with something sticking out of its head. It didn’t move.
Gem approached it and saw it was one of them, an infected. But it wasn’t going anywhere now. The thing protruding from its head was an arrow. Gem looked at it in disbelief, then touched the arrow as though making sure it was real. Physical.
“Crossbow?” I asked.
“That, or fucking Robin Hood is roaming the building. Either way, someone took this one out. See how the arrow goes in at an angle?”
I leaned over to look, my light shining on the entry point, right through the eye socket.
“Yeah. It came from that way.” I pointed down the hallway in our direction of travel.
Gem and I continued our slow progress down the corridor, stepping over puddles of muck and blood, watching for moving zombie heads or anything else that might either scare the shit out of us or pose actual danger.
Then we heard a door close up ahead. Not loud. A light click.
“I am so sick of hearing shit when we’re in scary places!” Gem said, frustrated. “I’d like, just once, for you and me to be able to roam around a building filled with dead bodies and not be worried about bad shit happening.”
“I feel your frustration, but I’m still compelled to find out what that was, aren’t you?”
She nodded, but didn’t take another step. “Yeah, exactly. That’s my point. I can’t resist it, but I can’t help thinking that you and I don’t get much quality time. Ugh.”
“Ugh?”
“Yes.”
“Are you ready to start walking?”
“I’m ready to start cursing in Spanish.”
“Let’s walk instead.”
She took off, walking tentatively, and I followed. We weren’t sure which door had closed, but we figured sounds didn’t do much for the creatures, so we started calling out.
“Is anyone there? We’re uninfected, and just trying to survive, like you,” I began. “We can share information or help if you need it.”
Gem tried next. “Look, dickweed, whoever you are. If you’re a zombie, then get your ass out here where I can blow your head off. If you’re not a zombie, we’re not going to hurt you, ‘cause that’s not what we do.”
“More good cop, bad cop?”
Gem shrugged.
A voice came from behind the door we stood directly in front of.
“What if I hurt you?”
Gem and I stared at one another. “A girl?” I whispered.
Gem nodded. “I think so,” she whispered back.
“My name’s Gem and the guy I’m with is Flex. We’re staying at his place in Lula, about 11 miles from here. Are you okay?”
Nothing. Then, after about fifteen seconds: “I’m alright. I took a few of those fucks down, but I’m alright myself.”
“D
o you need help?” I asked.
“What have you got?” the voice said.
“Guns, food, power, shelter, picking up more every day.”
“And a nice mobile lab, if that impresses you,” added Gem.
The doorknob turned. Gem and I stepped back, our headlamps directed to the door, our guns at ready, but angled toward the floor. It opened fully and an arrow poked through.
“Would you drop that damned thing?” I asked.
“I will if you’ll move your damned lights out of my eyes and lower those guns some more!”
We realized we were blinding the dirty blonde girl, so we directed the bright beams of light down at the floor by pivoting the mini lights on their hinges.
She lowered her weapon.
“So you’re the crossbow girl,” I said.
“We saw some of your handiwork,” Gem said. “Good aim. How close were you when you took out the one down there?” She pointed at the gurney 25 yards back.
“I was right about here,” she said. “Name’s Charlene Sanders, but they call me Charlie.”
“Who calls you that?” Gem asked.
The girl shrugged. Her AC/DC tee shirt was too small for her, but it looked clean. She looked a bit harried, but was clearly tough as nails and pretty hot, actually.
“I guess that’s right,” she said. “Nobody calls me that anymore. Unless you do.”
“Flex Sheridan, Charlie. Nice to meet you.” I held out my hand and she held her crossbow in one hand and shook mine.
“I’m Gem. Charlie, we’d like to help you if you’ll trust us. We’ve got a very small group, but we’re working on a lot of things to stay safe. You trying to get anywhere in particular?”
The girl shook her head. She looked about twenty-two years old, but this situation tended to make peoples’ faces appear older. She might be as young as nineteen.
Charlie seemed to relax. “Making plans isn’t working so well for me. I’m more about reacting right now than taking action. So yeah. I guess I could see if what you’re doing is something I’d like to be doing.”
“Where does your family live?” Gem asked.
“About ten miles from here,” Charlie said. “Only child, my dad left when I was fifteen. My mom wasn’t one of the infecteds as you seem to be calling them, but she’s gone. I don’t want to talk about it.”
“My sister is infected,” I said. “I love her. I can’t bring myself to just casually start calling them zombies, but I can’t kid myself – they’re very zombie-like, so sometimes we slip. But I prefer to call them abnormals, infecteds, you know.”
“I get it,” Charlie said. “You’re a good brother.”
“I guess so. Okay,” I said. “First things first. We need an EEG machine for our buddy.”
“Who’s your buddy?” she asked.
“His name’s Hemp. British guy, good lookin’, shitloads of brains.”
She laughed, and it was genuine and more relaxed than I would’ve expected.
“Well, he should keep them under wraps, then. These things have a taste for them.”
“I think we’re going to get along just fine,” said Gem, smiling. “Let’s get our shit done and get out of this stink hole.”
The three of us moved down the hallway and came to the door marked Neurosurgery. We pushed the door open slowly and shone our lights down the vacant hallway.
“Why did you come here, to the hospital?” I asked the newcomer.
“Shine your light down here,” Charlie said, motioning to her thigh.
We both did, and it revealed a good tear in her pants that was soaked around the edges with blood. She pulled the tear apart, and we saw a deep gash that was still pumping blood.
“I’m like a fucking scented candle to these freaks,” she said. “Like walking chum.”
“Shit,” said Gem. “We’ll need to bandage that up fast. You feel okay?”
Charlie nodded. “Yeah. I was searching wrecked cars for supplies and when I left an old Volkswagen Thing, the damned tin body was split open and I caught an edge.”
I laughed. “A Thing? I had no idea any of them were still on the road.”
“I’m pretty sure it was the last one,” Charlie said. “I’d never seen one before. Even after I got cut I had to look on the back to see what the hell it was.”
“It was the fucking 70’s, that’s what it was. Everybody was so stoned they’d buy anything,” Gem laughed.
It felt good to hear her laugh. I looked forward to a lifetime of it.
“Okay, let’s find that machine and get the hell out of here.”
*****
A few minutes later we reached a door that said neurology, and Charlie pushed through it with little hesitation. This girl would either fit right in with us or set us on edge every five minutes, and I just didn’t know which yet.
Her crossbow held steady in front of her, she waited until our headlamps lit the room and told her it was clear before lowering it and looking back at us.
“Okay. What’s this thing gonna look like anyway?”
I unclipped the radio from my belt. I wasn’t sure this deep into the building if Hemp would still copy us, but I pushed the button anyway.
“Hemp, come in,” I said. “Charlie wants to know what the EEG machine’s going to look like.”
Brief static. “Charlie?” came the answer.
Gem laughed, and I couldn’t help but smile. “Yes, Charlie,” I said, holding the button down. “We’ve run into another uninfected, and she’s a tough one. We’ll be bringing her back to my place. So … can you describe the machine?”
“There will be a computer and monitor, for sure,” he said. “You might see something electronic with several small holes in it – likely plastic, but it’ll have the outline of a head on it. Telling you where each electrode plugs in.”
I saw a computer on the other side of the room and went to it. What Hemp described was lying in a tray beside it.
“Fuck, Hemp. Tell me the name Cadwell Laboratories means something to you.”
Static. “Yep. They are a manufacturer of a damned good machine. I think it’s called the Easy II.”
“Hold on,” I said, picking up the device. “Well, you don’t get the Easy II – this one’s called the Easy III, so I think you’ve got the newer model. It’s got a Dell computer system, and I think a 17” LCD monitor. Is that all right?”
Hemp came back on. “Perfect, Flex. Don’t forget the electrodes and cables – everything. Is it on a cart?”
“It is,” I said.
“Bring the whole thing. You don’t know what’s important and what’s not, so we can avoid you choosing to leave something behind that I might need. And grab a second monitor if you can find one.”
I said to Gem and Charlie, “This is it. What we came for. So let’s get it unplugged, wrapped up and ready to move.”
I returned my attention back to the walkie as Gem and Charlie started preparing the machine. “Anything else I can grab? Stuff we might need?”
“It wouldn’t hurt to have pain meds and as much alcohol, bandages, gauze, you know – basic first aid stuff as you can carry,” said Hemp. “There’s some in the lab, but not enough for my taste.”
Hemp was right. I had a small supply at the house, but this was a brand new, scary-as-shit world. We had no idea of the ratio between infecteds and uninfecteds, so it was feasible that hospitals could get emptied out of medications and first aid supplies. Drug stores abounded, but summer heat, fires, anything could destroy them or at the very least, degrade the quality. Hemp might know how to prolong the life of medications – some sort of storage method.
Luckily we had no diabetics among us – no need for regular injections or life-sustaining medications. Problems like that might serve to destroy another chunk of the remaining human population, but not from our group, anyway.
Gem and Charlie had the machine all ready, and we pushed for the door again. As we made our way back by the zombie with the arrow through
his brain, I looked at Charlie and said, “Damned nice work, kid.”
“Kid,” she muttered. “Been hearing that shit all my life. I’m twenty-six.”
Stopping off at two exam rooms along the way, we gathered the other supplies Hemp suggested. We didn’t have any more encounters with the living dead, and while Gem and I were happy as shit about that, I think Charlie was a tad disappointed.
I think she loved that crossbow, and if the truth be known, I wanted to see her use it. I didn’t know at that time how often I’d get to see that.
We still had to go back out into the world, and it was kind of eerie, the lack of the creatures, or life of any kind. The dogs had begun teaming up, and we’d seen a couple of small packs of them on the way to the hospital, but for the most part, the local animals were nocturnal, and well-hidden in daylight hours. Lula’s population at last census in 2009 was just under 2,500.
Overall, I really couldn’t have picked a better location to live in a situation like this; small town means fewer people, and that means fewer of them.
Fewer of us, too.
Gem seemed to voice my thoughts. “I wonder if they’re holed up in another meat locker like the last group we found,” she said. “With a food stock.”
“I still don’t know what that’s about or how they had the organizational skills to put it together,” I said. “They’re single-minded, so far as I can tell. Cracking heads and eating food. I don’t think they can fire generators or work a thermostat.”
“Maybe not, but like the scariest fucking squirrels on the planet, they seem to like to forage and stock up a bunch of fresh brains in case of hard times.”
The drive back to the house was uneventful. We saw a group of around ten infecteds lumbering around about two blocks from the hospital, but they didn’t seem to have a particular direction in mind, and were utterly disorganized.
I pulled the car over and we all stared in their direction for a while. The light breeze was blowing in our faces, so we knew they could not catch wind of us. I imagined them close up, their hopeless jaws and teeth chewing on food that was not yet there to sustain them.