As usual, no one was around and she hurried to the supply tent. She’d get what she needed, stash the bag and be back before they even knew she was missing.
The supply tent was lit and that was a bonus, no flash light to fumble with. She went immediately to refrigerated storage to get insulin. There was no locking that, the antibiotics, mild pain killers, or bandages. She quickly opened the door, scanned the products and reached inside.
The moment she retracted her hand, fingers grasped her wrist.
“Stop,” he said.
Ella looked up.
It was the doctor that sutured her.
Doctor Ung.
<><><><>
He moved spryly, back and forth, almost nervously as his hands danced about the air. “What am I supposed to do here?” he asked. “Huh? Am I to turn you in?”
Ella opened her mouth to answer, but he kept going.
“This is not what I expected. It isn’t. I’m asked to volunteer, to give my time, there are no doctors, Tom said. ‘The place is a mess. A mess.’ No shit.”
“You …”
“A mess is an understatement,” he continued to ramble and pace. “It seems like every single person waits until nightfall to come in.”
Ella interjected rapidly, but he didn’t notice. “That’s because no one good is here to help … medically until night.”
“I have soldiers shooting civilians, civilians shooting soldiers, infected being rounded into a tent to be put down like dogs before they even pass away. Drunks ...” he touched the pint that poked from her tee shirt. “… with self-inflicted wounds.”
“Hey now.”
“So they can pull off some sort of medicine heist and then, you know, the nurse from hell ...”
“Jodi.”
“… is tossing afterbirth in a bag, over a fence to two men like a back alley arms dealer.”
“To the feeders.”
He stopped pacing. “The what?”
“The feeders. They’re the equivalent of a drug dealer in this world. They supply the flesh of humans, animals, even afterbirth to people who are harboring revived. They sell it for money, goods, whatever.”
“Oh my God.”
“You haven’t heard of them?”
“No.” he shook his head. “I’m from the suburbs.”
“Remind me to go there if I ever get a chance. Besides, I bet you have feeders in the burbs, you just don’t know it. Now ... I appreciate you unloading on me, I’m glad you feel comfortable enough to do that. Lots of people do, but I have to go. I would appreciate you not turning me in.”
“You aren’t stealing narcotics. You’re taking insulin.”
“And antibiotics.”
“Why?” he asked.
“We have a few who need the insulin, and right now, a really sick five year old girl with severe tonsillitis who won’t make it without it.”
“And an anti-inflammatory. Why don’t you bring her here?”
“I can’t. It’s too dangerous,” Ella replied.
“Then bring her in the morning.”
“Even worse.”
“If she’s that bad, then she needs an IV antibiotic or to have them removed.”
“That’s not possible. You could be a great guy and give me what I need and let me go on my way. Just know I can’t bring her. I can’t carry her the entire way and do it safely.”
“Then … then how about I go with you and check on her,” Doctor Ung suggested.
“Wow, and I don’t say that sarcastically. As chivalrous as that offer is, you won’t make it either. Alone I make it here and I alone I make it back.”
“I ... I don’t understand. I’ll get a soldier and —”
“No!” Ella cut him off. “Oh my God, please do not tell a soldier.”
“Why?”
“Because I’m from the Lazaretto.”
He looked deeply at her for a moment. “Lazaretto, that’s a quarantine area, medical set up.”
Ella chuckled. “That’s what we call the area. It’s quarantined. It’s shut down. Thousands, tens of thousands of those things are there and we are right smack dab in the middle. A hundred and three of us. Trapped. Roads destroyed. No way out. We’ve been there since the fall.”
“My God, that’s months ago. Why has no one gotten you out?”
“We tried. We’ve been shot trying to leave. We’ve been told we can never go. We’re carriers.”
“That’s absurd.”
“You know that. I know that. Whoever is in charge probably knows that as well, but they won’t let us out. If we get out, word of how many there are will get out as well.”
“Miss Hoffman.”
“Ella.”
“Ella.” He took hold of her arm. “If there are that many Codies, eventually they will clean sweep that area. Fire bomb it. You have to get those people out of there. If you got out, they can too,”
“I cannot get a hundred people out of there. It’s not possible. Not the way I leave. What am supposed to do, make a hundred trips.”
“If that’s what it takes.”
Ella laughed. “Obviously, you have never ran from a large pack of them.”
“I haven’t. Let me help you.”
“You can help by giving me what I need and letting me go so I can get the medication to that little girl.”
Doctor Ung released her arm. “I’ll go get your papers. Take what you need. I’ll be right back.”
“For real?”
He nodded.
“You’re not gonna walk out and turn me in?”
“No. I’m getting your papers.”
She believed him. There was something humble and honest about the way he spoke.
He took a step. “Is there anything else you need?”
“Since you’re asking. Candy for the kids and Miss Marcy. I know they have it in that food tent …”
He held up his hand stopping her. “I’ll get it. Don’t run.”
“Running is what I do best.”
“I believe that. Do me a favor. In the future, I’ll be here on Mondays. Find me. Don’t cut yourself. Fake a bellyache or something.” He turned to leave.
“Doctor …”
“James. Just call me James.”
“James. Thank you. It means a lot. Thank you. I know there’s no way to repay you.”
“Actually, there is.” He reached out and snatched the pint from her tee shirt. “Liquor is scarce everywhere. I’ll be back.” He then walked out.
Alone in the tent, Ella was grateful. She opened the nylon bag and proceeded to take only what she needed. She wouldn’t take more than that. There was something about the new doctor and she trusted him, it was like he hadn’t been jaded yet. Ella knew the longer he hung around the Mercy field hospital, the more all that would change. Ella made a mental note that on her next trip back, not only would she try to make it on a Monday, but she would bring a bottle for the doctor.
It was the least she could do.
TEN – THE NEIGHBOR
It truly wasn’t how Rhonda imagined the blessed event. Even though the virus outbreak happened early in her pregnancy, she held high hopes that everything would be alright.
Briefly, she contemplated terminating, but her mother convinced her that together they could bring the child into the world, raise and protect him together.
As the virus situation worsened, she knew it wasn’t going to be easy. That perhaps hospitals would be the same. Her mother had prepared for when things shut down. Before that happened, she went out and bought formula and diapers.
She envisioned her mother at her side, holding her hand while she gave birth. But her mother passed away from an attack not one month earlier.
Rhonda had to call the R-Team, she couldn’t get her to the hospital before she revived.
In all her fantasies of the birth of her child, she didn’t imagine giving birth in a tent, having a doctor barely make it in time, and a nurse run off with her placenta.
She
delivered the baby, was given the child and during her course of the night only one person came in to check on her.
Rhonda woke up after a few hours, grateful she hadn’t dropped her son when she passed out. She was still on the cot stained with her own expelled blood. She stood, swaddled the baby tighter and headed for home, on foot, the same way she arrived.
Although walking to the field hospital in pain was easier than walking the eight blocks home weak and carrying a baby.
The first two blocks were tough, then the ground felt as if it slanted and started to sway. Rhonda found herself walking close to the buildings, trying to grab something every once and awhile to get her balance.
Twice a soldier riding by stopped and asked if she needed help.
Why she didn’t say, ‘yes’ was beyond her.
All she wanted to do was get home. She only had one flight of stairs once she arrived there.
Then two blocks from her building, she spotted Mr. West. He was walking down the sidewalk pulling his shopping cart. Something he did every morning. He went to the little store on the corner when they opened and bought his daily items.
He wasn’t a young man, he moved slowly, but he was too old that he couldn’t be a sense of support. Maybe if he just walked with her to make sure she didn’t fall with the baby.
“Mr. West,” Rhonda called out to him. “Mr. West.”
It took a few calls to him to get him to stop and with a sense of relief, Rhonda hurried to him.
“Mr. West, I am so glad …”
He turned to look at her. He was no longer the Mr. West that she knew, he was one of the revived.
Before she could step back, he lunged at her, grabbing her arms and moving his mouth in a biting manner. He was close, too close to her son and Rhonda struggled. She shifted her body left and right to free herself, while screaming out.
She didn’t care about her own safety, just that of her child.
Please don’t get my baby, please don’t get my baby.
Finally, a soldier showed up. He pulled Mr. West from her, shoving him back into the side of a building before delivering one fatal and final shot.
The baby cried.
“Are you alright?” the soldier asked.
“Yes. Yes,” she said emotionally. “I just want to get home.”
“Let me help you,” he said.
“No, I’ll be …”
“Let me help you,” he repeated stronger.
Rhonda relented and allowed for his assistance walking her home and to her apartment. He wanted to walk her in, make sure everything was alright, but Rhonda declined. She insisted she was fine and thanked him. She wanted him to leave and do so fast, The truth was, she was scared. Fearful for her child.
Mr. West had been grabbing and attacking them. It happened so fast, all Rhonda could think was to check her baby for a bit or scratch.
One in the apartment she locked the door, rushed to the couch, laid the baby down and unwrapped him.
She frantically searched him head to toe for a mark.
Let him be okay. Let him be okay.
He was fine, not a mark on him. Just as she exhaled in relief she froze. With all the fear, all the adrenaline pumping through her, she never felt it. She didn’t know and never thought of herself. When she saw it, she wanted to die. The cold hard fact was, because of it, it wouldn’t be long before she did.
Across her right forearm was a deep and bleeding scratch.
ELEVEN – CHANGING
Nineteen.
They had to rectify nineteen people in one house sweep. Men, women and children. It was the biggest rectification Tom had done since being on the R-Team.
It was also something he had never seen before.
One extended family, one house that was made into some sort of ‘care’ center.
It was obvious that those inside had been revived for a while. They were placed three or four in a bedroom, the doors not only closed but barricade with baby gates stacked on top of each other.
The call came from a local preacher, who regularly checked on his congregation.
He didn’t go inside. He needed only to look through the front window to see the Harrison family was no more, at least in the normal sense.
When he was called, he had no idea how many were in the house.
Tom arrived to find one lone, adult, daughter survivor. She was the one that told them there were at least a dozen in the house.
Family members came to her mother for care because her mother was a nurse and her mother, much like June Mannis, believed that they remained in the shell of the body. They weren’t dead because the heart still beat.
The daughter was devastated because she knew that they got the best of her mother.
When Tom and his team went inside, the mother was the first person they saw., She carried a pot of something bloody. It dangled from her hand as if she died and revived carrying it and never put it down.
It was disturbing to Tom, especially the five children locked in one bedroom. Toys scattered about the carpet, one child was even playing with action figures.
For the most part, Tom and his team didn’t shoot children to rectify. Unless they were in danger, it was handled another way. Because the heart still beat and breaths still taken, albeit slowly, they used gas on the children to render them unconscious then one by one, they used the rectifying tool on them.
These children were particularly hard, especially the one playing with the toy.
Why?
As soon as Tom saw the child, all he could think of was June.
When she looked at him in that bathroom was it truly predatorial or was it with familiarly, trying to convey something her voice could not speak.
The child with the toy looked at him as well.
It was the first time he couldn’t finish the job. He transferred responsibility to his captain and excused himself, citing he had pressing matters to attend to.
No one questioned him.
There was no reason to, and Tom showed no outwardly signs of his internal confusion.
He knew what he had to do and wanted to do. He placed a call to zone one barracks.
“Has a driver left to retrieve Doctor Ung,” he asked. “Or did he already return?”
“Actually, I was just getting ready to send someone.”
“Don’t worry about it,” Tom said. “I’m headed down there. I’ll pick him up.”
When he arrived, James was seated on a folded chair, his back pack at his feet and genuinely looked surprised to see Tom.
“Exhausted yet, Doc?” Tom asked.
“Actually, not as bad as I thought I’d be, I caught a nap.” James followed him back to the truck. “I’m surprised to see you.”
“I had a raid, thought I’d grab you.” He closed the door for James, then walked to the driver’s side and got in.
“A raid huh? In this area?” James asked. “Granted I’m the new guy, but it seems the R-Team rarely makes a showing here.”
“That’s true, they take care of their own,” James said. “I had a raid, but not here. I needed to speak to you.”
“About?”
“June’s theories about the revived.”
“The Mannis Syndrome.”
“Excuse me?”
“Her name, June Mannis, I called those who display retrograde behavior as having Mannis Syndrome. Because not all did. She swore by the ‘how you go out is how you come back’, thing.”
“So you believe it?” Tom asked.
“Major, I can’t say that I do or don’t. Short of allowing myself to be bit then coming back, I’ll never know. Even then how do I prove it. The revived don’t speak.”
Tom exhaled heavily.
“What’s going on?” James asked.
“Just … I’m seeing things in them.”
“Like?”
“Like today, a revived little boy playing with action figures.”
“Whoa,” James said. “What did you do?”
> “I stepped away.” Tom glanced at him quickly. “I have never stepped away before. I just couldn’t do it. And I am not a big humanitarian guy. But they’re different, like they’re changing.”
“Are they?” James asked. “Are they really different, because maybe you’re just seeing them different after June. She had this way of working it into your brain, where her theory is dormant until something visual causes it to erupt.”
“Maybe. But I am keeping track.”
“Please do and keep me posted,” James said. “I have something to ask you. What do you know about the Lazaretto?”
“Wow, where did you hear that term?”
“A woman who sliced herself to get to the hospital, so she could steal antibiotics for her ... What did she call it?”
“Sanctum.”
“How did you know?”
“We uh … not me personally, but we talk to a guy named Grant. His people have no clue we speak to him.”
“Major, they are shooting people trying to get out,” James said. “Calling them carriers.”
“That was early on. When our guys were scared and we didn’t know better. Now … Grant just tells them they’ll be shot. It keeps them in. Stops them from trying. We keep the water on and power. This woman. Was she arrested?”
“No, I let her go.”
Tom nodded.
“Although water and power being on is big of you,” James said sarcastically, Why in the world would you want to keep them in there?”
“Two reasons,” Tom replied. “There’s tens of thousands of those things in that area. They migrated there. Those people leave, we’re afraid the Codies will, as well.”
“To me that reasoning sucks. You’re leaving those people in there.”
“Not me personally,” Tom defended. “But they are.”
“Like a dangling carrot.” James shook his head. “I know it’s not you doing it, but that reasoning sucks. You said there were two reasons. What’s the other?’
“There are tens of thousands of Codies,” Tom said. “We just … can’t get to them. A rescue is impossible.”
TWLEVE – NEXT STEP
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