by Glyn Gardner
The landing was about eight feet in either direction. The lighting was the same as the rest of the hospital with one exception. The shadows at the bottom of the stairs seemed to be dancing. The moaning and dancing shadows told them all that the stairwell was occupied.
Jackson, Theresa and Mike charged to the first landing, weapons at the ready. Suddenly a zombie tumbled down the stairs, landing at Mike’s feet. Instinctively, he backed away and fired a single round into the zombie’s head.
The moaning grew loader as more zombies added their voices to the chorus of the macabre. Another zombie could be heard tumbling down the stairs. This one stopped with a crunch on one of the landings above them.
“They can’t go down stairs,” Theresa announced. Jackson and Mike looked at her quizzically. “They’re falling.” She could see they didn’t get it. “Just stay here and shoot anything that gets to that landing before me.” With that she charged up the stairs taking them two at a time.
A zombie tumbled onto the landing just as she reached it. Jackson’s rifle fired at the exact instant as her shotgun. The zombie’s head exploded in a hail of lead. “C’mon!” she ordered. “Everyone get up here.” She fired her shotgun up towards the next landing. A lifeless body rolled down the stairs, stopping at her feet. Its dark blood oozing under everyone’s feet.
She and Jackson charged to the next landing as the rest of the team covered them. The landing was the second floor landing. A small group of zombies was pushing its way through the door. Theresa shouldered the shotgun and began rapidly firing it at head height. The zombies dropped almost as one at the shower of lead.
Jackson reached the landing first. The door was still open, held by the bodies of Theresa’s latest victims. A quick glance confirmed how much trouble they were in. The floor was filled with the reanimated corpses of the patients and staff. There must have been at least three dozen zombies in site, and they were all walking towards the stairwell, right at him. “Go!” he yelled down the stairwell. Then he began dragging the bodies out of the doorway.
Mike charged past the soldier. As he reached the next landing, he turned to see where everyone else was. Theresa was right behind him, shotgun at the ready. SSgt Brown, Jen Kerry, and Josiah were just passing Jackson, one landing below. Good. He began climbing the last flight of stairs.
As he reached the second step, three zombies burst through the third floor door. One was a young man in a white coat. He wore black slacks, and leather shoes. Mike was sure he had been a doctor before he died. The second was an emaciated looking old woman. It looked to Mike as if she hadn’t had a good meal in months. Her grey hair was so thin he could see her pale-grey scalp. Her eyes were a pale blue. She turned her head and seemed to sniff the air. It was almost as if she were blind. But, she knew exactly where he was.
The third zombie was a little boy. Mike thought he looked to be about eight. His long scrawny limbs were pale and covered in dried blood. An IV line was still taped to the boy’s arm and was dragging the ground behind him.
As one, the trio turned and began tumbling down the stairs. Theresa fired once before she was knocked backwards by the weight of the emaciated woman. Mike fired a wild shot as he tried to back away. Missing the step, he fell backwards onto the landing, now occupied by Theresa, and all three zombies. The girl was screaming.
The doctor-zombie landed on top of him. He used his rifle to keep the zombie’s face as far away from him as he could. He tried kicking, but something was holding his legs. He tried desperately to shift the zombie’s weight off of him.
Suddenly pain shot through his right leg. The pain was sharp and intense. Franticly, he kicked with his left foot. As he concentrated on his feet, his strength in his arms began to diminish. Suddenly, the man’s hands grabbed him by the head. It became a contest between the zombie’s ability to pull and Mike's to do a push-up. Unfortunately, Mike hadn’t done a push-up in years.
Shots began to ring out. The zombie’s head snapped back. Dark black blood poured down onto Mike’s face. He began to gag. Suddenly another wave of pain shot from his leg. He had almost forgotten about the zombie on his legs. He jerked the rifle from under the doctor-zombie and fired into the boy’s head with one hand. Black and pink mist sprayed the wall as the boy collapsed in a heap over his legs.
He dropped his head and looked to his right. Beside him Theresa was laying under the emaciated woman. The palm of her hand was shoved under the woman’s chin. Wait, he thought. It was in her mouth! He began to panic. Not Theresa! Suddenly a flash of steel and the woman stopped struggling.
Theresa withdrew her hand. There wasn’t any blood. Where was the blood? What blood? I don’t see any blood? The voices he heard were echoing his thought. All but one, one voice kept yelling his name. He couldn’t see it, but he could here that voice.
Who was it? Mom, is that you? I can’t see you mom! Where are you? He could hear the voice saying something about being bitten. “No mom,” he croaked. “It didn’t bite me. It bit Tommy.”
Suddenly his mind drifted. He was standing in a hospital room. His best friend Tommy was there in the bed. He was ten, and he had been bitten by a snake. He looked bad today. He wasn’t breathing well. The doctors had said something about the antivenom causing a reaction. “It’ll be ok Tommy.” His voice cracked with tears. He was remembering what happened next. Tears ran down his cheek.
The scene changed. They were at a funeral home. There was a casket. He walked to it. He knew what was there. It was Tommy. He couldn’t look. Bang! Someone was banging. Who? Who would do something like that at a funeral?
He was jerked from his dream by a pair of strong hands manhandling him. Pain shot up his leg as he was dragged along. He opened his eyes. He didn’t recognize this place. He looked to the left. Jackson! It’s Jackson. Thank God! To the right he saw SSgt Brown. Oh good, he thought. The two soldiers always made him feel safe.
Jen! The voice in his head screamed for his wife. Where is Jen? He looked around, but did not see her. “Jen!” he croaked. “Where’s Jen?”
Suddenly there was a loud buzzing. He cocked his head from side to side, but couldn’t tell where it was coming from. He could taste something metal, like he had just bitten into aluminum foil. And he was suddenly dizzy. He was overwhelmed by the dizziness. The world turned black. He could hear and feel pain; oh the pain was so intense. But, he couldn’t see. Panic set in. He tried to breath, but couldn’t. Finally, mercifully, he lost consciousness for the last time.
Josiah burst through the door to the pharmacy. Kerry was right behind him. Mercifully, the room was empty. The rest of the group charged in, Theresa and Jen were the last through the door. The third floor had been virtually empty compared to the second.
SSgt Brown and Jackson gently laid Mike down on a table. The wound on his leg was no longer gushing blood, and the man’s breathing had slowed down to almost nothing. They both knew what was going to happen. But no one wanted to be the first to say it. They just stood quietly around their friend.
Jen finally broke the silence. “Oh Mike,” she cried out. She embraced him, her tears dripping onto his forehead. She held him close, cradling his head in her lap. She wasn’t a nurse now. She wasn’t measuring his pulse, or feeling his skin for fever. She was a grieving wife. She was the family member that they all tip-toed around at the hospital. “Let me know if you need anything.” “I’ll be over here if you need me.” “Take all the time you need.” She realized now, how empty those words were. They were words meant to make nurses and doctors feel better. Nothing could take this pain away.
SSgt Brown watched as the woman cried and hugged the body of her husband. He wasn’t sure if Mike was actually dead yet. But, to SSgt Brown he was dead; dead and waiting to come back. He wanted to give Jen as much time as he could, but he also had to think of everyone else.
“Jen,” he said in the softest voice he could muster. Though she heard him, she didn’t answer. “Jen,” he repeated. This time he was a little more insistent.
“What?” she yelled. “What, What, What?” He could see the hatred and anguish in her eyes.
“He’s… I’m so sorry…” He knew what needed to be said, but he just couldn’t think of the words.
Finally Theresa sat down next to her. She put her arm around the older woman’s shoulder.
“Don’t,” Jen demanded. “Don’t say it!”
“Miss Jen,” she said. “Do you remember my brother Davy?” Of course she did. Davy had saved Theresa’s life in the first days. He had fallen from the roof and been bitten while trying to save the rest of them. Theresa had to watch as he shot himself, alone in the back of a pickup truck, twenty feet from safety.
Jen looked at the girl, tears streaking down her cheeks. “Oh baby,” she answered. “Of course I remember Davy.”
“Do you remember what you said the day he died?” The older woman looked confused. “When he was in the truck, he asked you and Mike to look after me. Do you remember that?”
“Yes sweetheart,” she answered. “I do.”
“Miss Jen,” she said looking the older woman in the eyes. “It’s just you and me now. Davy’s gone, and Mike’s gone. We need to look after each other.” The older woman began to sob. She knew the girl was right.
“I’m just not ready,” she said.
“We don’t have a choice,” Theresa gently explained. “You know what this means, and you know what’s going to happen. You know what we need to do now.” She paused and squeezed Jen that much tighter. She cried unashamedly with her friend.
“Now,” she said pulling away from her friend. “Let’s finish this.” She pointed to the shelves filled with medicine bottles. “Let’s get what we came for and go home.” After she stood, she helped Jen to her feet. She led her around the shelves on the other side of the room. As they turned the corner, she gave SSgt Brown a quick nod.
Without hesitation, the older man pulled his bayonet out of its scabbard. With one quick motion, he jammed it into Mike’s skull behind his right ear. A tiny bit of blood flowed from the wound. He turned the head so that it would be unseen by anyone not looking for it.
“Ok people,” he whispered loudly. “We got work to do. Jackson, you and Josiah make sure we still have a way out. Kerry, find a sheet and cover him up.” While she tried to find something, he kneeled down beside his friend. He had intended to retrieve his weapons and ammo. He too was overcome by grief.
Tears cut deep swaths through the accumulated dirt and grime on his face. “Damn it, Mike,” he began. “I’m so sorry. You were… You were…” He couldn’t finish. His chest heaved as he sobbed openly. He stood and walked away as Kerry returned with a white sheet.
She deftly wrapped the man in the sheet. She couldn’t help but notice that he looked like something she’d seen in books. The sheet looked like a burial shroud. Suddenly, she was struck with a need to pray. She kneeled next to his lifeless body.
“Lord,” she began quietly. This was between her and God. “Please take your son, Mike, into your loving embrace. Grant him peace and serenity as he leaves this world of strife and pain, and enters your kingdom. Give him a special place at your table, as he holds a special place in our hearts. Lord, please forgive him of his sins.” She wiped the tears away with her sleeve. She didn’t know what else to say. She finished with “Amen” just as Jen and Theresa returned, backpacks full of medicines.
Jen saw the sheet, taking note of the tiny red speck of blood that stained the sheet under Mike’s head. She knew what the others had done and was glad she didn’t have to. She saw Kerry rising from her knees. She never knew the girl to be religious, but was grateful someone said something for her husband.
The word husband made her think about her wedding vows. “Until death do us part,” she thought. Fresh tears ran down her face. She began to sob again.
“Jen,” Theresa said in a soft but stern voice. “There will be time for that, but not right now. We have to go.” Somewhere deep in the center of her brain, her survival instinct strongly agreed with the teenager. Go! Get up and run! GO! Another minute or two and she was up and moving.
The stairwell they had ascended was full of zombies. That left the elevator or a window. Jen advised them that windows in hospitals are notoriously hard to break; something about people committing suicide. That left the elevator. Josiah told them he believed it would work, but he wasn’t sure.
“What happens when we get to the bottom floor? How do we know the doors won’t open on a herd of zombies? We’ll be trapped.” Kerry was right, thought SSgt Brown. It was Jen who thought of a solution.
They found three IV pumps in the hallway. In a minute, she had loaded them up with empty tubing. Once turned on, the pumps would alarm loudly telling the long absent nursing staff that there was air in the IV line. She explained that this was a safety feature on just about all IV pumps. Soon, Jackson and Josiah were pushing the pumps and accompanying poles down the stairs. There they alarmed loudly, drawing every zombie on the first floor to the stairwell.
“That ought to clear things out,” she announced.
The elevator doors opened on a relatively empty lobby. There were several zombies in the lobby area, and several zombies who were pounding on the front doors. Jen said a silent thank you prayer that this hospital’s automatic doors were in fact non-operational. The group could hear the screeching of the IV pumps from the stairwell at the other end of the hall.
Most of the dead had made their way past the hallway that led to the supply room. The rest of the occupants of the hallway had their backs to the group. Without hesitation, Jackson and Josiah began down the hallway. Josiah pulled out his Gladius, as Jackson withdrew his bayonet from its scabbard.
Josiah approached the first zombie. A quick, backhanded swing caught the zombie’s head near the left ear. With a sound that sounded like a watermelon being sliced, the zombie’s head was cleaved in two. There was a quiet thud as the body crumpled, unmoving to the ground.
The creature beside it began to turn, only to find Jackson driving his bayonet into the top of the monster’s head. It too fell to the ground without much noise. Jackson jammed his right boot into the creature’s back, as he jerked his bayonet free of the skull. There was a slight sucking sound as the blade freed itself.
The rest of the group crept behind the two. Theresa had her ever present shotgun at the ready and SSgt Brown had his rifle ready to shoot if need be. Jen and Kerry kept an eye on the zombies in the lobby. Miraculously, none had seen the group escaping the elevator.
Another zombie fell to the unseen blade of Josiah. Again the body crumpled quietly to the ground. Jackson was beginning to believe that they would get to the hallway without incident.
Then it happened. One of the zombies trying to shove its way into the stairwell fell to the ground. It turned as it tried to pull itself off of the ground. The monster’s gaze fell to Jackson and the rest of the group. It let out a loud moan as it regained its feet. Other zombies began turning in the direction of the warning. Suddenly ten pairs of pale grey eyes were staring hungrily at the small group of scavengers.
“Run!” SSgt Brown barked. Jackson threw a shoulder into a zombie who was beginning to turn on the group. The woman, who couldn’t have weighed a hundred pounds and could have been a hundred years old, went sprawling across the floor. Jackson was sure the fall should have broken her hip. He didn’t look back to confirm this.
He rounded the corner and slammed into another zombie and bounced off, falling to the side. This one wore a set of light green scrubs and was covered in blood. Its short hair was matted with the blood of something it had recently killed. The man was heavy, but not fat. Jackson was sure when this zombie was alive he had spent a lot of time in a gym.
The zombie reached for the soldier. Jackson clutched his bayonet with both hands. As he did, he coiled his feet underneath his butt. Just as the giant of a zombie reached him, he lunged at its face; bayonet leading the way. The tip of the blade hit the zombie in the face betwe
en the upper lip and the bottom of its nose. Jackson could feel the metal grinding over bone as it entered the zombie’s skull. The zombie went weightless as the soldier’s legs reached full extension. The sudden shifting weight caused him to fall flat on his face, dead zombie under him.
He thrust his hand into the ground in an attempt to regain his feet. Something was wrong. He couldn’t push himself off of the zombie. Suddenly he realized there was a stabbing pain in his lower stomach. He looked down to see the hilt of the bayonet had driven itself under his MOLLE vest and was jamming him hard in the stomach.
He gasped as he tried to push himself off the zombie. As he rose, to his horror, the zombie’s head moved with him. In one last ditch effort to spread its vile disease, the zombie had bitten down on Jackson’s pistol belt. The green nylon took the full brunt of the zombie’s bite.
Bang! Theresa’s shotgun suddenly broke his trance. Several other shots rang out almost as one. The gunshots quickly drew his thoughts back to the task at hand. Strong hands grasped him under the arms and jerked him to his feet. Josiah looked down at the zombie’s head as it fell to the ground with a thud, his eyes wide with fear.
“Don’t worry,” Jackson said as he yanked his bayonet free. “It didn’t get me.” Josiah’s face broke into a slight smile as he grabbed the soldier by the front of his vest and dragged him to the storage room. Kerry slammed the door behind them.
Thirty minutes later, they were at the Haven, drinking coffee. All but Jen; she was on the roof, staring at the hospital in the distance. Several people had tried to talk to her since they had arrived. She would always listen to what they had to say, and then politely ask them to leave. She never let them see her cry; although many had seen the tracks of her tears on her cheeks. She wouldn’t even talk to Theresa.