by TW Brown
The best way to get there from my observations would be to go back down to that steep drive that led up to this house. I headed down and used the same degree of caution as when I’d entered.
There was a long and very steep driveway that took me to 92nd Avenue and I followed it down until I finally reached the main road. I would need to cross it and climb a fence to get to the parking lot for the Mt. Scott Medical Center. I knew there was a surgery center and a pediatric facility.
When I reached the main road, those two lanes seemed like an ocean separating me from my destination. Unable to put it off any longer, I saw a good break in the undead that were scattered pretty thin from what I’d seen so far. I took a deep breath and then made my run for it. I heard a moan from off to my left, but I ignored it as I sprinted for the fence. I was less than halfway there when I noticed an entrance up here on the road. I considered going for it, but knew that I would bring zombies to it if I did so now. No, that would be an important set of doors to remember when I was ready to leave.
At last, I reached the fence and almost vaulted over it in one swift move. If not for the pack, I would’ve probably made it. As it was, I only got hung up for a moment before I could free myself and then basically fall to the other side.
I was now on a raised ledge above the parking lot. So far, the immediate area looked to be zombie-free. I hopped down and jogged to the corner of the building and peered around it. This was the main parking lot, and apparently, a lot of people had come here simply because it was a medical facility.
There were a handful of military vehicles in front and even two county sheriff’s cars. I went to them first and found a treasure trove of supplies. I pocketed three sets of handcuffs, slung two pistol-gripped shotguns over my shoulder, along with three Glock 21s and a dozen loaded magazines. These took standard .45 caliber rounds—which should be relatively easy to find once we were able to look—and would be plenty durable. As it was, I managed to scrounge up over a hundred spare rounds when I stumbled upon one police officer who’d been opening the trunk of his car before being attacked. He’d obviously killed the five zombies that were scattered on the ground around him before eating a bullet himself. A box of bullets was sitting in plain sight in that open trunk along with an ASP expandable baton, and a flashlight that I initially thought was another club.
There was more stuff here than I could carry which meant that Carl and I would have to make a few trips once I returned. A find like this could set us up nicely. All this, and I hadn’t even had time to scrounge through the military stuff yet. I would not have the time at the moment as I saw a few zombies had noticed me from out on the street above and were coming my direction. One of them leaned forward and fell awkwardly to the pavement. I watched in stunned horror as it rose with one arm bent in three locations.
It was time to at least duck inside and see what I could find. The good thing now was that if the few zombies coming for me all gathered at the main entrance, then I could slip around to that door on the opposite side of this place and escape from that direction onto the street above. Of course, that was provided that the inside of this place wasn’t a death trap waiting for me to spring it.
What I had come to realize was that going inside would be riskier than I originally believed. I had made the assumption that, since it wasn’t a proper hospital, it would be an easier target. Did I want to turn around and just return with what I had? I considered that very seriously for a moment and then decided that I could at least take a peek. I promised myself that I would abandon the effort if it seemed too risky.
Moving to the main entrance, I felt my hopes rise just a bit. I pulled on the doors and they opened. Even better, I did not see anything moving in the entry lobby.
As my eyes adjusted to the gloom I could make out a few bodies. I pulled out the massive flashlight and clicked on the button. The brilliant white light was dazzling. A lone zombie was highlighted by my beam. It looked up from where it was crouched on the floor, letting loose a terrible moan. I could see dark stains all over its face and realized that I’d caught this one while feeding as my light brought more of the grisly picture into focus. The body on the floor was twitching, its legs thrumming in final spasms of death. I hurried over as it tried to get to its feet and I stuck my knife in one eye socket. I then leaned over and repeated the move on the poor soul lying on its back.
I marveled for a moment at how easy that kill had just been for me. Moving to the sign on the wall, I scanned it for anything that might be helpful. At last I saw what I was looking for: post-op recovery and the on-site pharmacy.
I thought the pharmacy would be a better first choice so that was my destination. I headed to the stairs and pulled one of the Glock 21s. I ensured that it was fully loaded and then stuffed it into my waistband. The ASP would be my weapon of choice unless absolutely necessary, but I wanted the comfort of carrying the handgun in an easy to reach location just in case.
I reached the door once I was fairly confident that I knew the general direction that I was headed. It sucked that the power was out in this neighborhood. I knew it would all fail eventually, but this little raid would’ve been much easier with the lights still on.
The door to the stairs was propped open for some strange reason. A corpse was on the floor just inside, her ankle caught in between the door and its frame. I toed her to ensure she was dead. Once I moved past and glanced back, I saw a neat little black hole in her forehead. It wasn’t made by a gun, that much was for sure. It looked like somebody had hit her with an ice pick or something of that nature.
Once I was on the stairs, I could hear moans and shuffling from above. I was glad that this was a contained stairwell. There were actual concrete walls on both sides of me and that would keep some curious zombie from leaning over the rail and plummeting down on top of me. The bad side of that was the fact that I had no idea how many were above me or how close they might be.
I had to move from one wall to the other as I reached the switchback to have the best vantage, and it proved beneficial when a grimy and stained hand gripped the corner and a face poked out from behind it. The filmed eyes shot full of black tracers gave away the certainty that this was one of them.
He’d apparently been a doctor. He was wearing scrubs and had a name tag dangling from above a slim pocket that still held what might’ve been a pen light. His stethoscope had gotten tangled around his neck and was now dried into place by the blood from where his throat had been ripped open. I brought the ASP up and then down hard on the side of the zombie’s head.
“Fuck!” I practically screamed.
The blow had connected solid, but the follow through caused me to lose my balance and stumble back a couple of steps. The problem there was that I was only about one step from the stairs. I teetered as my one foot found nothing but air, and I managed to grab hold of the handrail just before I toppled. My flashlight clattered to the ground but, miraculously, did not break. It ended up against the wall, the light still bright enough to give me some ambient light that let me make out the dark shadow of the zombie as it recovered from my blow and advanced.
I swept its legs out and then had to hit the thing twice more on the back of its head until it stopped moving. I looked at the extendable baton and, after wiping off the clumps of hair and other nasty stuff, I put it away and pulled out my trusty hand axe. If I got in a jam, I could use the pistol, but taking several hits to end a zombie was an easy way to find myself in just such a predicament.
After scooping up my flashlight, I moved up the stairs to the second floor and stopped at the door. It had a long rectangular window that allowed me to look in at the long hallway. There were doors lining both sides, but at the end of the hall, I could see an open area that would be the lobby. That would be where the pharmacy was located. Between me and it were five zombies just roaming around this narrow passage. The shades on the windows at the end where that waiting area was located were all open so that there was plenty of light, but this co
rridor was still shrouded in enough darkness that I would need to keep the flashlight on for at least half the distance.
I tried the handle on this door and felt my heart skip a beat when I went to push the lever and it made an audible click that sounded loud enough to be heard for miles. Every head in the corridor turned and they all started my direction.
Having no other option, I pulled the door open and stepped into the hall and then shut the door behind me so that my back was protected. The first one was a man in overalls and a sweatshirt. I could not see any sign that he’d been bit. Unfortunately, I didn’t have time at the moment to investigate. I brought my axe down hard and fast, ending him and then preparing for the next one.
This one had been a lady that I guessed to be in her early twenties or late teens. She was a bit chunky, and her gait was awkward. It took me a moment to actually see the tubes dangling from her arms. Her left leg seemed to be the problem. When my flashlight hit it full on, I finally realized the reason. Obviously, she’d suffered a tremendous break in that leg. I could see some sort of contraption that actually looked bolted to it and there was even a section that was laid open bare to the bone.
I tore my gaze away and then buried my axe in the top of her skull. She dropped like a sack of potatoes leaving me with three more that were a bit bunched up together. They would be a quandary. I could only take down one at a time, and if one of them got their hands on me, I could be done for. I pushed away thoughts of running. I was too near my goal to run away now.
I was trying to figure out which one to take first when a figure rounded the corner at the end of the hall. It looked like something from a cheesy science fiction movie. This was no zombie; of that I was certain as soon as whomever it was in that getup waved at me.
This person was wearing a yellow HAZMAT suit, but it was reinforced with shin guards that looked like they might belong on a catcher in baseball. There was a set of football shoulder pads modified with two-inch spikes set along the top and front. The person had leather wrappings on both forearms as well as a spiked collar like you might see on a cartoon bulldog.
In his hand he held a rather small pick. It looked like the kind that rock climbers used, but I didn’t know what its official name might be. It dawned on me as to what might’ve dealt the fatal blow to the zombie that I’d discovered in the doorway on the ground floor.
The individual came at a jog and took down the lagging zombie with a quick strike to the crown of his head. As that zombie fell, I moved in and dropped the other two in rapid succession. As soon as the last zombie fell, I drew back a few steps from this stranger; my desire to snatch the pistol from my waistband was almost bad enough to cause my hands to itch. Despite this person taking down the one zombie, I had no idea what intentions may exist in another individual’s mind.
The hood to the HAZMAT suit was thrown back and I saw a man’s face looking at me with a bemused smile. His long blonde hair was held back in a ponytail and his eyes were bright enough that I was pretty sure they were blue despite the poor lighting.
“Hey,” the man said as he took a step back after wiping his weapon on the hem of the shirt of the zombie he’d just taken down.
“Hey back at’cha.” I slowly let the arm where I held my axe settle at my side.
There was a prolonged and uncomfortable silence after that as we both sized each other up. I could see a great deal of dark splatter all over his yellow protective suit.
“Looks like you’ve run into a bit of trouble,” I said, finally tired of the silence and ready to break it.
“Yeah, this place is actually pretty compartmentalized, but there were a lot of stiffs walking around in this particular section.” His answer was a bit guarded, and I noticed that he was leaning back just a bit as if he wanted to make a run for it. Also, his weapon hand had come down, but it was still flexed and ready.
“Look, I am here to try and get some stuff from the pharmacy. I’m sure there is plenty in there if you are here for the same reason. I think we can both get what we want and be on our way without this having to be a thing.” I paused for just a second before adding, “But if you aren’t cool with that, I’ll go elsewhere. Honestly I’m just trying to get some stuff for my dog.”
“Was it bit?” the man asked, suddenly seeming interested.
“Yeah, but it has been a few days and she seems fine.”
“Dogs turn just like people.”
It was like he didn’t hear what I’d just told him. I decided that he could think what he wanted. And despite what I’d seen in that backyard, I was confident that my Chewie was fine.
“So, can we agree that both of us can pick through things and get what we each need and be on our separate ways?” I just wanted to be out of here. Not only that, but I wished that I had my Chewie with me now. This guy gave me the creeps. I didn’t know what it was about him, but something gnawed at me. Maybe the way he was acting had me unsettled. He seemed to have a tough time keeping eye contact.
“Who’s watching your dog?”
That question caught me off guard. That is the only explanation that I can come up with for why I blurted, “She’s with my little group a few blocks away from here.”
I wanted to slap myself. I was making some of those really stupid mistakes that get folks killed in the movies. Never divulge your numbers or location. And while I hadn’t given specifics, I’d said what I considered to be more than enough.
“You got room for one more?”
“Umm…” I didn’t know what to say.
“Look, I’m by myself. I’ve been on my own since last night and I honestly don’t know how long I can do this all alone. I don’t remember the last time I slept. Every time I close my eyes, I hear something that wakes me, and I don’t want to go out that way.” The man was silent for a moment and it took me a second to realize that he appeared to be crying. When he made eye contact with me, I had my suspicions confirmed. “I was actually breaking into the pharmacy to end it. I figured I’d find something that would send me off painlessly. I considered eating a bullet, but that just gave me the creeps. I couldn’t get past the idea that it might hurt.”
I thought it over. Unless this guy was one hell of an actor, he was just scared and alone. It would be good to have another person who could help us defend the homestead. I wouldn’t be able to make the final decision, but I could at least bring him along and introduce him to Carl and Betty; of course, I would be paying attention to how Chewie reacted as well.
“Sure, why not.” I stayed put for a moment and then finally gave his weapon a long glance. He started, and then hastily let it slip into a loop on the large leather tool belt he had strapped around his waist. “Name’s Evan Berry.” I extended a hand.
“Brandon Cook,” the man said, taking my hand in a grip that was firm but not crushing. I hated it when people tried to show you how incredibly strong they thought they were by squeezing your hand until the knuckle bones ground together.
“Okay, Brandon, let’s go empty out some stuff from this pharmacy.” I started up the hall to the intersection and looked out into the open lobby area.
What I saw was equal parts impressive and disturbing. There were bodies sprawled all over the place. This resembled the zombie apocalypse version of Custer’s Last Stand. I glanced over at the man who now stood beside me.
“You?” I asked, giving a slight nod of my head into the room of carnage.
“Some of it was done before I got here.” The man edged past me. “We should get moving. I thought that I was so clever coming here, but if you’re here, then my idea may not be nearly as clever as I initially thought.”
I felt my cheeks warm. That had sounded almost like an insult. He hadn’t really said it with a condescending tone, but there was an implication. I brushed it aside. Maybe I was just being hypersensitive.
“I was picking the lock on the door when I heard you in the stairwell. I almost ran for it, but then I thought maybe some zombie got lucky and figured it out
.”
The more this guy talked, the more I was wondering if I’d made a mistake in saying he could come back to the group with me. Oh well, it wasn’t like he was officially one of our group yet. Carl and Betty would need to sign off on him as well.
I stood by as he got the door open. I was impressed with his skill and had to admit that it would be handy to have somebody around who could do that.
We slipped inside, shutting the door behind us and then began to roam the aisles. I didn’t find exactly what I’d hoped to find. There were boxes of the sterile alcohol wipes in the foil packages, but I didn’t actually find any bottles of it here. I did find some wraps and bandages, but again, not exactly what I’d hoped for.
On the plus side, I did grab a lot of antibacterial ointment as well as anything with -illin on the label. I also grabbed a few bottles of assorted pain killers and seven boxes with vials of morphine. Those were in a special locker that Brandon had to take a few minutes on but still managed to pick.
Once we were loaded up, I expressed my disappointment in the lack of antiseptics like alcohol or hydrogen peroxide. Brandon looked at me with no expression for a moment and then said he knew where we could snag some on the way out.
I noticed that he’d filled his bag as well, but I hadn’t really paid attention to what he grabbed. I considered asking, but then decided we were still strangers and it wasn’t my place.
He led the way and I quickly forgot all my misgivings when he led me to a door to a supply closet that was loaded with rows of assorted bandages, wraps, and bottles of chlorhexidine, and iodine. It was a treasure trove of all the things that I needed.
“You might want to hold off on using the alcohol on your dog,” Brandon suggested as I scooped bottles off the shelf and into my pack. “I would suggest the chlorhexidine. A person understands that burn, I am not sure your dog would.”