CODE Z: An Undead Hospital Anthology

by Brown, Eric S. ; Besser, Rebecca; Wraight, Anastasia; Rosamilia, Armand; Ibarra, Bowie V. ; Christie, Peggy; Mahan, Jeremy L. ; Sinclair, Pembroke; Snow, Rebecca

  “No,” he growled.

  “Look, we have to get down to the security desk, in the ER,” she snapped, tugging her arms away roughly. She didn’t think he would let go at first, but finally he released her.

  “No,” he said again, watching her with a dazed expression on his face.

  “Why not?” she asked, reaching forward, again, to press the button.

  “I said no, damn it!” he roared and grabbed her wrist again, but not as tightly as before.

  “Why the hell not?” she screamed back with tears running down her face – the fear, adrenaline, and confusion in her system finally overcoming her composure.

  “Because I just came from down there and it was far worse than what you just escaped up here!” he hollered, clenching his fists at his sides.

  “Oh,” Nurse Dalton whispered. “We can’t go down then. . .” She frowned, crossed her arms, and leaned back into the corner of the elevator, swiping at the tears running down her face with the back of her shaking hand.

  “I guess we go up and hope for the best,” he said flatly, reaching forward and pressing the button for the top floor; the elevator jerked as it started in the direction it had been commanded to go.

  She nodded and closed her eyes, fighting a battle within herself for control. All she really wanted to do was sit down and cry. The senseless agony being caused for no reason tore at her soul. She’d seen years of suffering, being a nurse, and the only disease she could compare the events to was cancer. A ravenous disease that wanted to eat the good and turn it into the bad until the cells grew and killed the host. It caused suffering to people of all ages and wasted them away. What she was dealing with – what was around her – was the cancer of an outside nature, external to the body of life itself. It was death that sought the living, darkness more than willing to snuff out light. She groaned and sobbed, knowing that everything they could do would be futile. The disease, the death, was out of control. The face of the mutant baby swam before her tear filled eyes – a torturous memory forever imprinted on her brain – giving a gruesome face to everything about this evil, this plague.

  In her distressed, thought filled state, she didn’t hear the man speaking to her, until he gently gripped her shoulder. She jumped and swung her arms up to protect herself.

  “Calm down,” he said soothingly, “I’m not going to hurt you.” He stopped and swallowed a couple of times. “I just need to know. . .” He paused, looked up at the ceiling, swallowed hard again, and looked back at Nurse Dalton with determination. “I need to know what happened to my wife.” His voice cracked with grief on the word ‘wife’ as tears fell from his eyes and his jaw clenched. “What happened to our baby. . .”

  Nurse Dalton took deep breaths and tried to focus on the man in front of her. Images of the baby sliding out of Mrs. Straight and into the arms of the undead Dr. Limon, flashed through her brain: the baby’s scream of pain and the abrupt halt to the sound of new life; the scream of the mother as she watched her child die; and the blood chilling sounds of the woman’s death as she too was eaten alive.

  “Tell me,” Mr. Straight growled through clenched teeth, gripping both of her shoulders and shaking her. “I need to know!”

  She whimpered and twisted, trying to break free of his grasp. “I can’t. . .”

  “Yes, you can!” he screamed in her face, spraying her with saliva and tears.

  Closing her eyes, she rushed through the facts as fast as she could, only opening them again when she felt Mr. Straight’s hands leave her body.

  He slumped down against the far wall, covering his face with both hands; he wept. His body shook and he breathed in great, sobbing gasps as his grief for his lost wife and child overtook him.

  The elevator emanated a resounding ding and the doors suddenly slid open to expose them to the top floor of the medical facility; all was quiet beyond the open door.

  Nurse Dalton stepped forward, holding her hand against the door to keep it open. Slowly, she stepped out into the hall, careful not to move her hand in case someone or something tried to attack. She didn’t want to be sealed off alone.

  “It looks clear,” she said, turning back to the man who had quieted somewhat, taking her eyes off the hallway.

  A woman with no face growled and slammed into Nurse Dalton, knocking them both into the elevator.

  Mr. Straight jumped up and tried to wrestle the undead woman off of Nurse Dalton; they slammed into the control panel as he did so, and their bodies pressed a couple of buttons for the lower floors.

  Screaming, crying, and flailing, Nurse Dalton fought against her attacker as well. The blood thirsty beast roared, clawed, bit, and scratched as they tried to subdue her.

  During the struggle they descended many floors where the elevator paused and the doors slid open. Luckily, no one else decided to join the elevator battle, until they reached the ground floor.

  The doors opened with yet another ding, alerting all of the creatures milling around in the Emergency Room to turn and watch the struggle within the elevator. With moans, groans, and harsh squeals of glee, the undead descended upon the battling living.

  Nurse Dalton saw them coming and wiggled her way over to the control panel. She pressed the ‘close doors’ button, but there were too many bodies pressed between the doors and they were struggling too hard with the faceless woman to defend their small ‘safe zone’.

  Soon they were overwhelmed and the hungry creatures tore their limbs from their bodies, feasting on their flesh while they screamed. Soon, they too, joined the undead to walk the halls. . .

  Skin and Bones

  By Rebecca Snow

  The ambulance lights flashed in the queue forming in front of the emergency room entrance. I could see the line of blinking vehicles stretch to the convenience store two blocks away. Being six floors up in the psych ward granted me a nice view of the sun setting over the city but hampered getting a good look at the details. Tiny people pushing gurneys wove through traffic trying to offload their passengers. The pavement was a madhouse, but the thick glass buffered most of the traffic clatter and horns. The scene reminded me of watching television after my father had gone to bed. I’d mute the sound and turn on the subtitles. For the tableau unfolding on the street, I could only guess at the dialog.

  “Susana,” Nurse Wilder said, pushing the door open with a rolling cart. “Time for dinner.”

  I gagged as the scent of mystery meat filled my nostrils.

  “I’m not hungry.”

  The woman lifted a tray and put it on the bedside table. The wooden legs trembled on the tile.

  “If you don’t start eating, you’ll have to get a feeding tube.” Nurse Wilder lifted the metal lid from the meal and pulled the foil from a plastic container of Jell-O. “And I know you don’t want that.”

  I curled my lip and crossed my arms. Everyone said I was thin enough, but they never saw the swaying flab on my thighs. If I could fast for another week, I might be able to lose the excess weight.

  “I’d like to see them try.”

  “Susana.” Nurse Wilder raised an eyebrow and lifted my chart. Scraping a fuchsia nail down a list of numbers, she stopped at the bottom. “Your last evaluation has you at seventy-eight pounds. Do you really think you could take Harold?”

  An image of the six-foot-five orderly flashed into my head. He had played football in college but missed out on pro ball because of a bum knee. With a well-placed kick, I knew I could best him. I shook my head anyway.

  “All right, then.” The nurse handed me a plastic spoon and returned to the wheeled cart. “I’ll be back in an hour. There’d better be a dent in that food.”

  The door eased shut on its hydraulic hinge. I dug the spoon into the red gelatin and jiggled to make it wobble. Sliding my fuzzy-slippered feet across the floor to the bathroom, I turned on the hot water and let it run until it steamed up the mirror. I poked the spoonful of sugary dessert into the stream and watched it slide into the basin and dissolve. Two more bit
es followed the first before I returned the container to the tray. I peeled open the applesauce and poured half of it into the toilet bowl. I’d saved myself from fifty calories. Flushing, I watched as the clumps circled before disappearing into the pipes. When I stood, the room seemed to spin around me. I grabbed the wall for support but slid to the cold floor. After a moment, the spots cleared from my vision. I dragged myself back to the bed, sliced the meat chunk into bite-sized pieces, and pushed them around the plate. My next weigh in wasn’t until the next morning, so I wouldn’t get any grief from the nurse if it looked as though I’d eaten.

  I returned to my post by the window. The line of flickering lights had lengthened, but something was different. Some of the gurneys were empty, and people were scattering. A few ran toward the hospital while others fled into the city. A small group swarmed a man that had fallen to his knees. I assumed they were helping him to his feet, but when they dispersed, the man was lying on his back covered in something dark.

  A siren wailed in the hallway. I shrieked as the door flew open. Nurse Wilder stepped into the room. The bun that had been fixed to the back of her head hung near her left ear. Bobby pins dangled from stray strands of her brown hair.

  “Susana, stay in your room. They’re locking down the floor. When I know more, I’ll let you know what’s going on.”

  “What’s happening? I saw…”

  “Just stay in this room.”

  The door clicked shut behind her as she left me alone. I turned back to the window and tried to breathe. My lungs didn’t seem able to take in enough air. My chest felt like it was being squeezed by a boa constrictor. Cold beads of sweat blossomed on my forehead. The bile in my stomach threatened to make an appearance. I had to get to the bathroom. When I tried to stand, I toppled to the floor.

  “Help.” The word came out in a whisper.

  I must have passed out because the next thing I knew, Nurse Wilder was on her knees next to me with my wrist in her hand. She tumbled backwards when I moved.

  “I…I though you were dead.” Inch by inch, she crab-crawled toward the door. “You didn’t have a pulse.”

  I shook my head.

  “I don’t think so,” I tried to say. My mouth felt like I’d been eating cotton. I sat up and rubbed my eyes with the heels of my hands.

  Returning to my side, the woman tilted her head and squinted at me. She pressed two fingers under my chin and raised my face toward the light. I batted her hand away and fumbled to my knees.

  “Susana, are you all right?” She grasped my wrist and helped me to my feet.

  Once I stood, I brushed off her hand and nodded. Her skin was on fire. Glancing down, I saw her fingers hadn’t left a mark on me, but it felt like they’d singed through to the bone. I reached for the glass of water that had been left on the dinner tray. I knew it would add some weight, but I had to wet my lips. They felt as though I’d been eating sand. Anyway, I could work it off walking the halls.

  Lifting the cup, I tilted it back spilling a mouthful down the front of my flannel pajama top. I retched. The water didn’t taste right. Not caring what the nurse thought of me, I let the water dribble from my lips.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked. “You look even worse than usual. You’d better sit down.”

  I coughed and dragged my sleeve across my face. I was hungry, but I wasn’t about to admit that fact to Nurse Wilder. After months of telling myself I didn’t want to eat, I found myself craving nourishment. Before I devoured the room temperature meal left on my dinner plate, I glanced down at my thighs. The hunger persisted, but the few pounds I still wanted to lose fought off the thought of food.

  Returning to the window, the stool wobbled beneath me as I looked down onto the mayhem. People ran through the streets as if to find shelter. Several small fires had sprung up while I had been unconscious. A helicopter hovered in the distance. I looked back at Nurse Wilder as a body fell past the window. Tears filled her eyes, and she sobbed once before covering her mouth with her hand.

  “The world’s gone crazy.” She placed a feverish hand on my arm and pulled me from where I sat. Gathering me into a boiling embrace, she squeezed. “The news keeps saying the dead have come back to life.”

  “Zombies?” I asked. My voice cracked.

  Nurse Wilder released me from her hug and drew the blanket from my bed.

  “Here, wrap up in this. You’re freezing.”

  I rolled the blanket around my shoulders and followed her from the room.

  “We’ve gathered the saner patients in the communal area to watch the news footage.”

  I wanted to know what was going on, but I didn’t want to have everyone around me gauging my reactions. People were so cruel with their judgments. Pulling myself from her grip, I stepped away and turned back to my room.

  “I thought you’d want to see what was happening.”

  A loud crash echoed through the door at the end of the hall. Someone screamed.

  “Don’t worry,” Nurse Wilder said. “The doors are locked up tight.”

  I stumbled along the wall and peeked through the slender window. Two overturned carts kept the elevator from closing. Files and charts were strewn around the nurse’s station. A hand without an arm attached gripped the phone’s handset. Twitching bodies littered the blood-spattered corridor. A bloody stump smacked the pane. My stomach growled. I felt strong arms envelop me from behind as the nurse dragged me away from the carnage beyond the glass.

  “Go back to your room and lie down. I’ll come in and check on you in a while.” She ran her hands across my scalp. “I think you hit your head when you fell.”

  The nurse skittered toward the common room to get the latest news from the outside world. I dragged my feet back to my bed and collapsed in a heap on the rumpled sheets. Lying on the rolled blanket, I let my mind wander.

  People were being attacked in the streets. From what the nurse had said, the aggressors were dead. The floor was sealed, so none of the creatures could reach us. I was hungry for the first time in months. I had to staunch the cravings, so I did what I had to do; stood on shaky legs and trudged to the bathroom. Flicking on the light switch, I stared at my reflection. Nurse Wilder had been right. I didn’t look good. For one thing, my color was off. Usually, I was a pale peachy color. Now, I was an ashen gray. After splashing my face with water, I toweled off and looked again and found myself still colorless. I unbuttoned my pajama top and let it fall to the floor. My pallor didn’t stop at my face. My whole body was pasty. Holding my arms out at shoulder height, my elbow bones poked at odd angles, but the flab swayed on my upper arms. I’d seen all I needed to see. I was not going to submit to my latest yearning for food even though I didn’t know what I wanted to eat.

  Retrieving my shirt, I rebuttoned it and went in search of company. Since I’d be less likely to devour the spoiled food in my room if I was in a group, I wound my way through the halls to the TV room. Two old screens were bolted to the walls and were tuned to the same news station. The channels had to be changed manually on a palm-sized dial on the front of each one. If there had been remotes, they had been misplaced years ago. The picture on one was static-ridden, but the sound was clear. The other had garbled audio and crisp video, so its volume was kept muted. Most of the nurses stood in the empty space behind the couch. Their eyes plastered to the scenes playing out on the monitor. A few other patients curled in scattered chairs. I leaned against the back wall, hugged the rolled blanket around my shoulders, and felt my stomach gurgle.

  “At the moment, it is unknown why the dead have risen from their graves,” a rumple-suited man in a crooked toupee said. One of the fluorescent lights glared across his face on the screen. “If you see a relative you know to be dead, do not approach him. Find a safe place and block the entrances.”

  “So you’re saying that people should stay in their homes?” a reporter asked. She thrust the microphone back in the suited man’s face.

  “If your homes are safe, stay inside, don’t op
en the door, don’t go near the windows, and don’t get bitten.”

  The camera turned back to the reporter and went in for a close up.

  “Thank you for those safety tips, Professor Jones. Back to you, Jim.”

  The scene changed to the Channel 7 news desk. A woman sat behind the desk and pushed a make-up woman away from her.

  “Thank you, Sue. Jim has stepped out. I’ll be filling in for him until he returns.”

  “Shouldn’t we try to help?” one of the nurses asked.

  “I’m not going out there, I don’t care what kind of oath I took,” said a doctor I didn’t recognize. “From the way it sounds, there’s nothing we can do.”

  “Shh. Watching here,” a voice said from the front of the room.

  “I don’t care what you do, I’m getting out of here. My family needs me,” Nurse Jenkins said. She turned to leave the group.

  “Shelley, if you leave, you’ll jeopardize the safety of all of us.” Nurse Wilder held the other woman by the shoulders before planting a firm slap across her left cheek. Nurse Jenkins crumpled to the floor and sobbed.

  One of the patients rose and dropped to the floor beside her. Cradling Shelley in her arms, the robe-clad woman rocked and shushed until the weeping faltered. I sniffed and smelled the salt from her tears. I caught an odor of something else, something appetizing. From my spot by the door, I couldn’t see any food, but that didn’t mean there wasn’t something on a table. Shaking my head, I waggled the fat on my thigh. The ache in my gut would pass as long as I focused on something else.

  “We’re going live to Saint Vincent’s,” the commentator on the television screen said.