She was sitting on a bed, her fingers dancing across the top of a cell phone. I saw bright dots flying across the screen: Angry Birds, by the looks of it. I turned to thank Pete for the information, but he had already wandered off, his arms held out as if for balance.
I grabbed my kit and meandered over to the patient, sizing her up as I got closer. “You’re not obviously bitten and you don’t seem to be missing most of your skin, so you’re already my favorite patient of the morning.”
She set down her phone. “Well, I’m glad I did something right.”
“Name and affliction?”
“Alyssa Andrews. My throat hurts.”
I paused in my note-taking. “Any relation to Logan Andrews?”
“He’s my big brother.”
I grasped a tongue depressor from my kit and twirled it around—the younger people in camp seemed to like that. “Let’s have a look.”
She didn’t react to the twirling, but she obediently opened her mouth and stuck out her tongue, allowing me to have a look at the reddish mass that was her throat.
I winced. “That can’t feel good. And…your brother? I just saw him.”
“Yeah, he said I should ask for you. Said you’re nice. Not like her.”
Her gaze darted around, as if she feared Lattimore would appear just by referencing her.
She wore regular clothing, but I’d quickly learned that didn’t necessarily mean anything. Soldiers might change out of their uniforms from time to time. “Civilian or Army?” I asked.
“Army, but I’m not very good at it. Kind of skated through Basic and probably would have gotten out if all this shit hadn’t happened.” She lifted a hand and her eyes skyward.
“Did you follow Logan, or did he follow you?” I should have stopped her from talking and just conducted the exam, but she was a nice change from my current roommates.
“Eh. I think I followed him. He loved it. I got a divorce and lost everything and thought it’d give me a fresh start. Or at least station me somewhere away from my ex.” She rolled her eyes. “Didn’t think I’d wind up right near Logan, but hey.” A mischievous smile crossed her face. “Did you really come here from Elderwood?”
“Yes. They’re worried about you guys.” I peered into her throat, up her nose, and started feeling around her neck. It felt normal enough, though her skin seemed colder than it ought to be, and almost…clammy.
I stepped back to look her over. “It doesn’t quite look like the start of the flu, to be honest.”
“I didn’t think it was,” she said as I fished a stethoscope out of my kit. “But it’s not a cold, either. It’s just lingering and Logan was hassling me and, well…”
I had her sit up straight and placed the stethoscope against her ribcage. “Breathe in…breathe out.”
Her lungs sounded clear enough. No fluid sloshing around. That was good. Her heart was a little bit rapid, but she might just be nervous about visiting the medical tent—I was sure a good number of her buddies didn’t come out of here. “Good,” I said. “Blood pressure time.”
I wrapped the cuff around her upper arm and squeezed the ball. She sat very still, her gaze fixed on something I couldn’t quite see. I half-turned and realized she was looking at a puddle of blood on the ground.
Oh, gross.
“Someone should have cleaned that,” I said. I was pretty sure that someone was Dax, who would probably vomit if I asked him to clean it…which meant I was going to end up busting out the mop.
Her blood pressure was low. I frowned at it. Could just be a cold, maybe. Or one of any number of new viruses that had cropped up in the admittedly unique circumstances of our changing environment.
It was nothing I would run screaming to the doctor about, but still…
“Open your mouth again,” I said.
She did so, and I peered down her throat with a small light. The redness seemed to emanate from further down than I could see. “When did this start?”
“Last week.”
Interesting.
I pretended to rummage through my gear as I tried to make my brain fit her symptoms together. “So Logan’s a sniper. What did you do?”
“Communications. Radio, mostly, since getting here.”
I didn’t even pretend to look only professionally interested anymore. Here, sitting in front of me, was part of the very reason Tony had been dispatched to Hastings in the first place: the radio silence. I turned around, my eyes widening. “You worked on the radio? Why the hell did you guys stop talking to us?”
She stared at me for a split second, confusion plain on her face. “What?”
“We came here because Hastings stopped responding to hails. General Hammond thinks you all got munched!” I left out the part where Elderwood might well have fallen after we left—Alyssa seemed harmless enough, but maybe that was news we didn’t want spread around.
Alyssa gnawed at her lower lip. “The radio broke a few weeks ago,” she said. “I don’t know how long anymore. It was right before the shit with Durkee went down. After that, Keller rearranged people. He put me in processing.”
I stood in front of her, all hope of actually being medicinal fleeing my brain. Finally I cleared my throat and said, “They didn’t fix the radio?”
“My CO asked for parts or a completely new radio a bunch of times. Since Keller was shifting people around, I figured that meant they’d gotten it up and running again…just that no one was answering.”
“Who did he put in charge of the radio instead?”
She shrugged. “Guys he knew, I guess.”
I filed that piece of information away.
“There was a spare out in the old library,” she said, her voice quieter now. As if she were testing the waters. “I guess no one retrieved it?”
Our eyes met. Something shifted in the air; an uncertainty had come into it, a sort of concern. The pieces weren’t fitting together quite right.
“Was your radio broken?” she asked.
“I don’t think so,” I said. “Hammond was worried about you guys. He sent us to find out what happened—if it was a broken radio or if the city fell.”
“Vibeke,” someone called out. I knew without a doubt it was Lattimore, stalking through the tents to ensure I wasn’t fraternizing.
I sighed. “Maybe we can talk about this later,” I said. “Have you been exposed to anyone who’s sick?”
“Well, everyone’s been exposed to something,” she said. “Look at this place. We’re all in insanely close contact with each there. If something can pass through air, everyone’s going to get it.”
She made a good point.
Lattimore’s instructions had been pretty simple: Anyone suspected of harboring contagions must be quarantined. That hardly seemed fair to Alyssa, who might respond well to hot tea and a good night’s sleep, but if she was sick and I let her roam freely around Hastings, I was going to wind up right back in prison.
“Alyssa, I’m going to have to admit you,” I said.
She nodded. “I figured. At least I won’t have to clean out latrines, right?”
She spoke with false cheer. I recognized it; I’d displayed enough of it myself in recent months. Might as well suck it up and put on a smile—why let everyone else around you know how badly you’re hurting?
I placed a blue tag around her ankle, and another around her wrist.
“Tagging me already?” she asked. “Don’t I have to die first?”
“This is so they can see you coming from either way,” I said, adding the information to her chart.
She did not appear convinced, but she nodded, and started picking at her nails. “Gotcha…what was Elderwood like?”
“Well, they built the refugee area around the old college campus,” I said. “More like a really huge campground. Seemed more like something you’d see in…I don’t know…a proper battlefront, I guess.”
“The zombie battlefront,” she muttered.
“That, too.” I saw Dax slipp
ing in from the other end of the tent and waved him over. Once he was on his way, I lowered my voice. “Hey. This is a pretty big city. Wouldn’t they have replacement parts, or a replacement radio around somewhere?”
Alyssa laughed, but her merriment quickly dissolved into coughs, making me feel a bit better about admitting her. “Of course,” she said. “I’m sure there’s other radios. Hell, there was an outpost set up in the other side that I know has a working unit, and lots of spare parts.”
“Then why haven’t you…they…”
“Our radio broke when Durkee was running things, and he did send a squad to look,” she said. “They didn’t come back, and then he died, and I guess Keller…I assumed they’d fixed it and you weren’t talking. But maybe Keller just didn’t want to risk more men.”
I tried to see the nobility in that, and almost managed to do it…until I thought of Elderwood, and all the civilians that had died because Hastings had been unreachable.
Hammond, I thought, I hope you’re okay.
“I miss Durkee,” she said after a moment. “Can’t believe they fucking ate him.”
“Sounds like he ran a tight ship.”
Dax arrived, and smiled at the two of us. “Ladies.”
“This is Dax,” I said. “He’ll get you to your bed. He’s also going to clean up that blood when he’s done, isn’t he?”
Dax blanched.
“Isn’t he?” I snapped, suddenly irritated with him.
He grunted something that sounded like assent and helped Alyssa to her feet. Once they had vanished into the labyrinthine maze of the medical complex, I let out a sigh. I was pretty sure I hated triage and really hated spending my time surrounded by the scent of death, of suffering, of all the things that had gone wrong in the world.
I went off in search of my boss, mentally reminding myself to dump bleach on the blood myself if Dax couldn’t bring himself to clean it.
CHAPTER SEVEN
By the time my shift ended five hours later, I was covered in blood, guts, and God knew what else. The blood had even seeped through my MEDIC shirt and stained the long-sleeved thermal I wore underneath, and no amount of frantic scrubbing would get them out. If I hadn’t picked up some gnarly infection since the world ended, I damn sure had one now.
Lattimore dismissed me without a second thought. “See you tomorrow,” she said absently, working on some poor sap’s kneecap. In a previous life, I might have offered to help out, but one look at the mess told me this was a case best left to the experts. The dude would probably be dead before morning, and I didn’t want that on my hands.
“I cleaned the blood,” Dax said once I joined him outside the main tent.
Did he expect a medal? “Thanks.”
We stood in silence for a moment.
“So what did you do when you were a real EMT?” he asked.
I let out my breath in a heavy exhale. Everyone wants something today. Back in Elderwood, Dax had largely been safe in processing; all this gruesome shit was new and horrifying to him. “I drove the ambulance, mostly, and assisted the paramedic,” I said. “I saw some gross stuff, but not like this. Not this…constant cataloguing.”
He tucked his hands into his pockets. “You seem good at it.”
I wasn’t entirely sure he meant that as a compliment.
“Would you rather be back in the brig?” I asked.
He shrugged. “I’d rather be there than deciding people’s fates.”
“You’re not. You’re cleaning out bedpans.”
He stared down at the ground, an angry flush creeping into his cheeks. “I meant you.”
Ouch. That hit a bit too close to home.
“I’m not deciding anyone’s fate, either. I’m making it easier to assign them to a specific doctor.” Oh, what a wicked liar the endtimes made of me. “If they’ve got someone skilled in internal medicine, I’d rather have him treating the girl with the virus and leave the ER doc to handle the broken bones.”
Dax studied me intensely for a moment, then looked away. “Whatever you say. Here comes our conquering hero.”
From a distance, Tony’s limp looked more like a swagger. I watched him come toward us, a smile on his face and a cigarette hanging out of his mouth.
“Are you kidding me?” I asked when he stopped in front of us. “Smoking’s bad for you.”
“Keeps the lungs warm,” he said.
“Gives you cancer,” Dax said.
Tony pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and blew out several wisps of smoke. “Out of all the things I’m worried about right now, smoking enough to give me cancer is pretty low on the list.”
I was sorry I’d brought it up. “Can we go home?” I asked, eager for a less volatile subject. “I need a long shower.”
“Vibby, there’s not a long enough shower in the world for you.” He jerked his head to the left and started off in that direction, and after a moment Dax and I followed him. The gray sky overhead continued to deepen in color, indicating the sun was setting. Maybe it was five o’clock.
“So, Commander,” Dax said, “can you get me switched to other duties yet? Triage doesn’t agree with me.”
“Triage doesn’t agree with anyone, but they’re already full up on processing, and I figured you didn’t want guard duty.” Tony puffed away on the cigarette. “Why? Was it real bad today?”
I glanced down at my blood-splattered sleeves. “No, I threw this stuff on to blend in.”
“Is Evie okay?” Dax asked. “I didn’t get a chance to walk her. I was too busy mopping up old blood.”
“Ooh, you had to do your job.” I almost shoved him, but kept my hands to myself. “Cry me a river.”
“Kids!” Tony seemed perplexed by our irritation with each other. “I let her out before I came to get you guys.”
We reached our house in good order. Before the key had even finished turning in the lock, I heard the scampering sounds of paws against wood. As soon as the door swung open, the squirming bundle of golden fur leaped onto Dax first, then me, then Dax again. She raced around our legs, her tail batting hard enough to make me stumble. “Easy, puppy!” Dax laughed, crouching down to fling his arms around her. She whimpered, and her tail thumped against the doorframe. “See, we’re back.”
“She was sitting by the window today when I came home. I figured she was waiting for you guys.” Tony reached down and rubbed the furry head. “Though if you filthy goons keep petting her, she’s going to need another bath.”
The idea of Tony wrestling our very strong dog into a bathtub made me smile. I waited until she’d finished with Dax, then accepted my share of the hugs and kisses and long brown strands of fur.
Something cool touched my hand. I found a new purple collar around her neck, along with a shiny pair of tags. “You got her tags?”
Tony nodded. “City regulations.”
“Hastings has city regulations?” Wonders would never cease.
“See? Feels like home.” Tony sounded satisfied as he limped into the house. I fawned over the dog a moment more, then followed him. Dax shut the door behind us and trailed along after me.
“Dibs on the shower,” I said, turning and sprinting up the stairs before Dax could beat me to it.
An hour and a hell of a lot of scrubbing later, we settled down for turkey sandwiches and bottled water.
“Where’d this come from?” Dax asked in between bites. “I thought it was pastrami or…pastrami.”
“Apparently our dear Vibeke made quite an impression on Food Truck Guy.” Was Tony glaring at me just a little bit? “He dropped these off. Said no one who could stitch up a zombie bite and convince his sister to get medical help deserved to live off pastrami for the rest of their days.”
I couldn’t help a smile. “His name’s Logan. I patched him up a few days ago.”
“Mmph. Was wondering why he wasn’t at his post.”
“But where’d it come from?” Dax repeated. “I thought pastrami was all we had left.”
Tony gulped down some water. “No, we just have a shitload of it. These probably came from someone’s freezer.”
We scarfed down our sandwiches in relative silence. On the other side of the kitchen, Evie’s tags jingled against her bowl of kibble. It made a lovely sound.
“Now, how was work?” Tony asked, once we had mostly finished eating.
Dax immediately pushed his bottle of water aside. “Vibby’s a better judge of it than me. I just clean bedpans and blood puddles.”
Man, he still sounded resentful.
I waited until after dinner to broach the subject of Alyssa.
Tony had pushed away from the table early on to sit outside. Dax stomped up to bed before I could say much—probably for the best, considering some part of me yearned to smack him. What the hell had gotten into that man? Sure, he wasn’t exactly the toughest piece of beef jerky in the bag, but he had never struck me as a whiner.
Cut him some slack, I thought as I prowled into the living room, searching for something to do. He’s never worked in a hospital before. Very different environment. Helping me bandage up Tony or myself was one thing; being surrounded by the sick, the injured, and the dying all day, every day, was something else.
Maybe he wasn’t cut out for it. A lot of people weren’t.
Does that mean I am?
I didn’t bother ruminating on that fact any further. Instead, I stepped outside and found Tony on the front porch.
“Hey,” I said.
He had an unlit cigarette in his hand. “Sup?”
I closed the door behind me and crept over, seating myself beside him. The air was frigid; I could see my breath with every exhalation, and the night itself was starless and quiet. No birds. No planes. Not even the sound of traffic driving down another street.
We might as well have been the last two people on earth.
“Something interesting happened today,” I said.
He held up his hand. “I need a smoke first,” he said, digging into his pocket and pulling out a lighter. He bounded to his feet, winced, and promptly took the weight off his bad leg. Then he lit the cigarette. “C’mon, I don’t want Dax smelling this. He’ll just yell at me.”
Grave New World (Book 3): Dead Men Don't Skip Page 6