Sam glared at Mr. Paulson. Kristen shook her head at Sam, then stroked her father's head.
“Now, Dad, don't get excited.”
Park ignored all this and stepped closer to the doors. “Some of these fuckers are hurt. Too hurt to be walking.”
Angie looked. Park had a point. A ridiculous point, but still a point.
“My god,” said Kristen. Angie looked over to see her staring at the doors. Angie followed her gaze to a teenage girl standing outside one of the doors. The girl was wearing a torn and dirty dress and her lips looked glued together.
“I know her,” said Kristen. “I mean, I knew of her. She was killed in a car accident. I saw the burial notice in the paper.”
Angie saw Sam look and frown. He said nothing.
Park looked at Sam and Mr. Paulson. “You think she got better? Maybe she should have told the mortician before he glued her mouth shut.”
“That must not be her,” said Sam.
“It's her,” said Kristen.
“For shit's sake,” said Mr. Paulson. “If she's walking, she's not dead. I can't walk and I'm not fucking dead.”
Park snorted and looked at Angie. “You got one of those stethoscope things?”
Angie opened a drawer in the nurse's desk. “There's one in here. Why?”
“Here's why,” said Park. He walked to the glass door and pulled open the locks.
“Hey!” said Angie.
“Hold your shit, this'll be quick.” Park pulled the door open, yanked the teen girl inside and shut the door before any of the others could get in.
“Catch,” said Park, pushing the girl at Sam.
“What the hell is the matter with you!” yelled Angie.
Sam took a step back but caught the girl by the shoulders. “You crazy fuck!”
The girl moaned through her glued lips.
Park locked the door and turned.
The girl's lips separated, thick black blood and dried glue falling from her mouth. She groaned at Sam.
“Shit!” said Sam.
“Here,” said Park. He grabbed the girl's shoulder from behind and kicked her legs. Sam let her go and the girl fell backward to the floor. Park held her down by her shoulders, kneeling behind her.
The girl hissed and bit at Park. “Shit,” he said, avoiding her mouth and struggling to keep her down. “She's stronger than I would have thought.”
“Get her the hell out of here!” said Angie.
“One second,” said Park. He looked at Sam, who was staring down at him and the girl. “Hold her fucking legs, genius!”
Sam flashed red. “Fuck you, asshole.”
“Unless you want her to get up and eat your fucking dad or whoever the fuck that is in the chair, hold her fucking legs.”
“You're out of your goddamned mind,” said Sam, getting down on his knees and taking hold of the girl's kicking legs.
Angie was stunned at the stupidity she was witnessing. “What the hell is the point of all this supposed to be?”
Park smirked at her. “Proving a point. Get the stethoscope.”
Angie rolled her eyes. “Are you shitting me? That's what you risked opening the door for?”
“Just get it.”
Angie sighed and took the stethoscope out of the nurse's desk. She walked over to where Park and Sam where holding the girl down.
Angie knelt and looked down at the girl. Seeing her up close made Angie feel cold. The girl's skin was gray and pasty. Her eyes were clouded and vacant. And she looked familiar.
From an obituary in the newspaper.
Angie put the stethoscope in her ears and leaned over the girl.
The girl hissed and snapped her teeth at Angie as she put the stethoscope to the girl's chest and listened.
She listened longer than she needed to.
Finally, she sighed and sat back, removing the stethoscope.
“And?” said Park.
“No heartbeat,” said Angie. “Nothing. And except for when she makes noise, it doesn't even sound like she's breathing.”
“My god,” said Kristen.
The room was quiet for a few moments, save the hissing and moaning of the girl.
“Ok,” said Sam. “She's dead. Great. The whole world's gone fucking crazy and I'm holding a corpse down to keep it from eating me.”
“Yep,” said Park.
“Ok, genius,” said Sam. “You let her in. She's dead. How in the holy fuck do we kill her again?”
“I know,” said Angie. She stood and strode back to the nurse's station. She pulled the fire extinguisher from the wall and stepped back over. She slammed the extinguisher down on the girl's head.
“Jesus!” said Sam, letting go and sitting back.
The girl gurgled and moaned, moving more slowly now. Angie heaved the extinguisher back up and brought it down again. The girl's head collapsed, brain and black blood shooting out to one side.
“Jesus!” repeated Sam, jumping up and backing away.
The girl's hands fell to either side. She was still.
Park let go of the girl and raised his eyebrows. “How'd you know that?”
“Rick,” said Angie, standing and dropping the extinguisher.
“What?”
“At the dispatch desk. His...head was crushed by the ambulance. He's the only one who didn't get back up.”
Park nodded and stood. “Well, okay. Hopefully the cops bring lots of fire extinguishers.”
Mr. Paulson snorted. “Those dick-sniffers. What passes for cops around here probably got eaten in the parking lot half an hour ago.”
“They have guns,” said Angie. “I bet just shooting the brain would kill these things.”
“This is crazy,” said Sam, pacing and continually glancing down at the dark slick of blood and brain on the floor. “In-fucking-sane. Where in the hell are they all even coming from?”
Park shrugged. “This one was buried, right? Isn't there a graveyard right by the hospital?”
Angie nodded.
Mr. Paulson laughed. “Sure as shit there is. Always thought the peckers here got a little something if they let patients die and gave the mortician some business.”
Angie felt cold. “Oh shit.”
“What?” said Park.
“There's graveyards all over this town.”
Park shrugged again. “Lots of old people. Lots of dying.”
“What if this is happening all over town?” said Angie, pulling out her cell phone. “Oh shit. I have to call home.”
She dialed and waited.
Eleven
Maylee heard the phone ringing from the kitchen and did her best to ignore it.
“The phone's ringing,” said Dalton. He was sitting on the toilet tank with his feet on the seat.
“Thanks for letting us know,” said Maylee, sitting on the sink and twirling her bat one way and then the other. “Why don't you open the door and answer it?”
The phone rang a few more times then stopped. Moaning and scratching came from the door. Brooke was standing with her back to the door, rubbing her temples.
“Just keep quiet, you two,” she said. “All we need to do is wait for the cops.”
“The cops you can't call?” said Maylee.
Brooke flashed her a look. “They have to be coming. What's happening outside is too big. Someone had to have called. They're coming.”
“Not necessarily,” said Dalton, staring at the door. “What if this is happening all over town?”
A realization flashed through Maylee. “Oh shit,” she said. She hopped off the sink to stand. “That's right! Mom could be in trouble. We have to get out of here.”
Brooke sighed. “Maylee, please. You saw those people.”
“I'll knock 'em in the head,” said Maylee, brandishing her bat.
“There's too many,” said Brooke.
“They aren't people, either,” said Dalton.
“Don't say that,” said Brooke. “They're people. There's just something wrong with
them. They're sick or something.”
“No,” said Dalton. “This is worse than sick. That guy with no eyes?”
Maylee lowered the bat, thinking. “Yeah. And the arm that ripped off with no blood.”
They all fell silent and listened to the groaning outside the door. Brooke looked like she was thinking. “That old lady. The one that attacked me outside. Her skin felt like a dead person's.”
Dalton wrinkled his nose. “What are you doing touching dead people?”
“Shhh,” said Maylee, her mind turning. “Wait...are you thinking those things are dead?”
Brooke shook her head. “No, that's crazy.”
“It was crazy already,” said Maylee. “Them being dead would just be more crazy to add to the crazy pile.”
“Big pile,” said Dalton.
“Huge,” said Maylee.
“Will you two please keep quiet,” said Brooke. “I'm trying to think.”
Hell you are, thought Maylee. You're just trying to look like you're thinking. We're on our own here.
The phone rang again.
“Dammit,” said Maylee. “That might be Mom. She might be in trouble.”
“We're in trouble, Maylee!” snapped Brooke. “We're trapped in your bathroom with a crazed mob outside the door. Just back off for a second, ok?”
Maylee fumed but shrugged. She took a step back and leaned against the sink.
Brooke frowned and rubbed her arms. “And why the hell is it so cold in here?”
“Heat's broken in the bathroom,” said Dalton, buttoning up his over-shirt.
“Mom's been on the landlord to fix it,” said Maylee. “But he's a lazy dick.”
“Wait...” said Dalton. He hopped off the toilet tank and walked to the bathtub. A large fuzzy mat was in front of it. Dalton knelt down and pulled the mat away, revealing a large rusted grate.
“What's that?” said Brooke.
“Heating grate,” said Dalton.
“So what's your point?” said Brooke.
“I think I could squeeze through.”
Maylee rolled her eyes. “And what, crawl around in the ducts? You're a little dork, but you're not that little.”
“No,” said Dalton. “The duct's loose, remember? That's what Mom's been on the landlord about.”
Maylee thought about that.
“And the basement is unfinished,” said Dalton. “I've been down there when Mom was complaining. The duct is just barely hanging on.”
Maylee frowned. Brooke shook her head.
“Dammit,” said Dalton. “Look.”
Dalton tugged at the grate. It was loose but didn't come free.
“Give me a toothbrush or something,” he said.
“You ain't touching my toothbrush.”
“Then give me mine, geez!”
Maylee shrugged and pulled Dalton's toothbrush from a cup next to the faucet. She handed it to him.
Dalton wedged the toothbrush in one of the slots on the grate. He pulled on it, then again. On the third time the grate popped free.
Brooke raised her eyebrows.
“See,” said Maylee to her. “Lazy dick.”
“Now, watch,” said Dalton. He put one leg into the hole and slammed his foot down. The ductwork creaked and groaned.
He grinned and did it again. A louder, longer creak came.
“Crap,” he said, then slammed his foot down a third time. His leg slipped further down the hole and a loud clatter came from below the bathroom.
“Shit,” said Brooke, rushing over and pulling Dalton up by the shoulders. “Are you okay?”
“I'm fine,” said Dalton, wriggling away.
Brooke knelt and looked down the hole. “What's down there?”
“The basement,” said Maylee, leaning over next to her. “And he's right. If he just kicked the duct off, that hole goes straight down to it.”
“Right,” said Brooke. “I'll go down.”
“What?” laughed Dalton. “You can't fit.”
“I'm the adult,” said Brooke. “I'll take the risk.”
“You're not an adult,” said Maylee.
“I'm the closest thing we've got!” yelled Brooke.
“You won't fit!” yelled Dalton.
“Neither will you,” said Maylee. “I'm skinnier than you are.”
“You have boobs.”
Maylee flashed red. “You little freakin' perv!”
They all stopped yelling. The groans from outside the door had been steadily getting louder.
Brooke listened, then looked at Dalton and Maylee. “We have to be quiet. They can hear us in here and there's no reason to make them any crazier.”
“You...won't...fit,” whispered Dalton.
Brooke looked at the hole, then at Dalton, then at Maylee. Then back at Dalton. “Shit. This is insane. If you got down there, could you get outside?”
Dalton nodded. “The door locks from the inside. I can get out and into the backyard.”
Brooke sighed. “Fine. You get as far away as you can and get an adult.”
“No,” whispered Dalton, looking shocked. “I'm getting the phone so we can call Mom.”
The phone rang again. Maylee sighed and leaned toward Brooke. “We can distract those things. Make noise so he can get the phone then get back to the basement.”
Brooke looked at Maylee and swallowed. She's scared, Maylee realized.
The phone stopped ringing.
Twelve
Angie snapped her phone shut. She felt like crying.
Freeda put a hand on her shoulder. “I'm sure they're fine.”
They were both sitting on the nurse's desk, facing the doors. Corpses groaned and clawed at each of the three glass planes.
“Dead, huh?” said Freeda, staring at them.
“Yeah,” said Angie.
“So Jimmy was dead the whole time?”
Angie nodded and bit her thumb.
“Damn.”
Angie dropped her hand. “Yeah.”
“Dammit,” said Park, walking in from the empty hallway. “Moe looks awful. We have to get out of here.”
Mr. Paulson chuckled from his wheelchair. “And take him where, numbnuts, the hospital?”
“We know how to kill them,” said Park, nodding at the corpses clawing at the glass. “Why can't we just make a run for it?”
Kristen shook her head and adjusted the oxygen tube on Mr. Paulson's face. “We couldn't move Dad that quickly.”
“Or your friend,” said Freeda.
“Then we need guns,” said Park.
“Yeah,” said Mr. Paulson. “A wrecking ball and a fucking helicopter would be nice too.”
“Now, Dad,” said Kristen. “They're just trying to help.” She stroked his head.
“Get your fucking over-lotioned hands off of me,” Mr. Paulson grumbled, twisting his head away. “Point is, we don't have any guns.”
“I've got guns in my truck,” said Park.
Sam, who'd been sulking against a wall, stepped toward Park. “Great. The truck in the parking lot? If we could get to the parking lot, we wouldn't be having this conversation.”
“No,” said Park. “We all couldn't make it, but one or two of us might. Get some guns back here, then we can use them to clear a path for the others.”
Sam shook his head. “This is crazy.”
“Yeah,” said Angie, “but it's better than nothing.”
“How would we even get to the parking lot?” said Sam. “The hallways are full of those things.”
“Watch,” said Park. He fished his lighter out of his pocket and stepped over to the door. He flicked it on and held the flame to the glass. The corpses on the other side backed away from the flame. “Noticed this in the parking lot. These things don't like fire."
Sam looked at the lighter, then at Angie. "You said you think we just have to damage the brain, right? I bet fire would kill these fuckers, too. Cook their brains."
Park nodded. "Maybe we can rig up some torches or someth
ing to hold them back.”
Angie pushed herself off the desk and walked over. “You'd just set off the sprinklers and end up wet and eaten. And besides, there's another way out.”
She walked over to a utility closet and opened it. Inside were a mop bucket, some gloves and a chain to turn the light on. She grabbed the chain and pulled. Park walked up behind her.
“Ok,” said Angie. She looked up and found a leather strap hanging from the ceiling of the closet. She pulled and a wooden ladder unfolded downward. She stepped back to let it connect to the floor.
“And where's that go?” said Park.
“The roof,” said Angie. “To allow work crews quick access to the lights up there. And not only that. There's another, metal ladder attached to the side of the building for the same purpose. And it goes right down to the parking lot.”
“Well fuck-a-doo,” said Park, looking at the ladder and nodding. He stepped back into the room. “Okay. Looks like we're taking the roof.”
Angie walked over to Park. “I'll come with you.”
Sam laughed. “No offense, but you'll need someone tougher than...”
“Hey, funny story,” said Park. “Remember about fifteen minutes ago when she pounded one's head in while you shit your pants?”
Mr. Paulson laughed. “I love that story.”
Sam went red. “Listen, I don't trust this prick to come back even if he does get to his damn truck.”
“We don't have time for this,” said Angie. “I have no idea if my kids are in trouble or not. We have to get out of here!”
Sam turned on her. “And what's stopping you from bolting home the second you get outside?”
Park made a growling noise. “Listen, dickburger, my friend's in that room back there...”
“Well, my wife's here!” said Sam. “So I guess we'll both be coming back.”
Angie opened her mouth, then looked at Freeda. Freeda was looking at the floor, her hands clenched together.
She stepped over to Freeda. “You ok?”
“Yeah,” said Freeda, looking up at her. “Just make sure you get back quick.”
Angie looked at Freeda, then over at Park and Sam.
“Hey,” she said. “Let Sam go with you. I'll stay. Your friend will need Freeda and me to look after him. Maybe the two of us will add up to a real nurse.”
Lakewood Memorial Page 6