by Hartill, Tom
He smiles but I see the fear behind it. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll be back before you know it.”
He walks over to Larry and hands him the pry-bar. He whispers something to him that I can’t hear. He turns to leave.
“You’re going out there without a weapon?!”
He looks at me apologetically. “Not much of a choice. You guys can’t run and if one of those things shows up you’d be defenceless. I can move fast on my own, they’re slow, and stupid. If I have to, I can avoid them.”
“What if there’s too many?” It’s hard to keep the worry out of my voice.
“I don’t think there will be yet, but if there is I’ll lead them away and double back, or hide. I’ll be ok, really.”
I feel the urge to start crying again but hold it back. My throat feels sore but swallowing helps me regain control. “Ok, you better hurry.”
He walks over to me and kisses the top of my head. For a second I feel like he might say something else, but then he turns and steps out through the broken window and into the street. He looks both ways, assessing, and then sets off to the right, and out of my view.
I hug my knees up to my chest. It somehow eases the pain in my side.
“Action man’s fucked off then.” Mikes voice sounds thick and groggy, but he’s conscious again.
“He’s coming back.” Larry says defiantly.
Mike gives him a look of suspicion, before carefully heaving himself upright. He has to lean on the desk to steady himself.
“We need to get out of sight. We’re on display here.”
Shit, he’s right.
“Ok well let’s get behind the desk. Larry will you help me?”
The big man puts down the pry-bar and walks over to me, but just as he goes to lift me up, the fire door leading to the corridor creaks open. For one terrifying instant I expect to see the shambling form of the nurse, dragging her entrails across the floor in bloody coils, rasping and snarling, but it isn’t her.
Standing in the door way is a small bespectacled Indian man in a neat little tweed suit, complete with suede elbow patches.
“H-hello?”
“Who the fuck are you??” Mike snarls, as Larry forgets about lifting me and clumsily fumbles for the pry-bar. The Indian man sees him and holds out his hands.
“No, no! Wait please I am not infected!” His accent is strong. “My name is Doctor Kunal Singh, I work here, I was locked in my office.”
“What happened?” I ask.
He looks surprised for a minute, he didn’t see me at first. When he does, he lowers his hands and tugs the lapels of his jacket, in an unconscious, charming gesture. When he speaks it is in the manner of a doctor describing a difficult diagnosis to a patient; Dignified, professional.
“A man arrived early this morning with a bite wound on his arm. Amid the usual run of patients there were a few with similar injuries though none in such a poor condition as this particular gentleman. He must have passed out at some point in the waiting room, but when one of the receptionists noticed and tried to rouse him, he woke up and attacked her”
He takes his glasses off and pinches the bridge of his nose before continuing.
“He inflicted what looked to be a mortal injury upon her, but none of us could get near her before she-” He sniffs, “I apologise, she was a dear friend.”
“I’m sorry.” I reply. Larry and Mike shift uncomfortably.
“That would have been bad enough,” Dr Singh continues, “but seconds after she should have bled to death, she…..came back, exhibiting the same extreme homicidal symptoms as the first man, whom we still tried to restrain. People started fleeing out of the centre but the door was too narrow, someone just threw themselves through the window-” he gestures towards the hole “-but some people were caught and severely mauled. I didn’t know what to do so I sealed myself in my office. I could hear that man attacking Tricia, our staff nurse but I couldn’t bring myself to go back out there… I just…I’m sorry. I heard sounds of a struggle in Tricia’s office but when I heard your voices I thought it might be safe….” He trails off, his eyes watering.
None of us know what to say. Fuck, if Damien had just waited another minute or two-
“I’m sorry Doctor, really I am, but finding you is actually a stroke of luck. A couple of us are injured and-”
“Bitten?!” He says horrified, “or perhaps scratched??”
“No, nothing like that but, Mike and I were in a car crash and we’re pretty banged up, is there anything you can do for us?
This seems to calm him. Giving him a purpose might help him pull himself together.
Not bad thinking for a barmaid.
No, I guess not, but then, I’ve learned to read people.
“I think it best if I examine you in my office. Perhaps your colleague with the weapon could stay behind the desk and alert us to any wandering infected?”
Larry licks his upper lip nervously. “Alone?”
“If you don’t mind?” Dr. Singh replies. “You will be quite concealed and if something or someone does see you then you are more than far enough away to reach my office and lock the door, even if you walk quite slowly.”
Larry looks miserable but nods anyway. I wish he were as capable as Damien.
Christ I hope Damien’s alright out there.
Mike helps me up and we head slowly into Dr. Singh’s examination room. Mike and the Doctor help lift me onto the gurney/bed that is currently in a ‘seat’ position. I lie back gratefully.
I feel hot and sick.
Mike flops onto the chair beside me. The Doctor checks him over first.
“A nasty head wound, probable blood loss and concussion, but a few days and you should be fine. Though until your body replenishes your blood supply, you’re going to feel quite weak I’m afraid. I’ll stitch it for you once I’ve examined your friend.”
I expect Mike to make some kind of sarcastic comment but he simply nod and closes his eyes.
I guess he’s worried about Tess too.
“What’s your name my dear.” Dr. Singh asks me. I feel as if I’m in for a routine check-up, as if the days insanity has been temporarily put on hold.
“I’m Cassie.”
“Ok Cassie, can you describe to me where the pain is coming from and what type of pain it is?”
“It’s in my side here, like a stabbing pain.” I say, lifting up my shirt.
The Doctor moves closer to examine it and gently probes the flesh with his fingers. It is an even darker, uglier purple than it was before. “Tell me when it hurts.”
I wince and let out a hiss as even his lightest touch causes pain. It’s like someone is pushing a red hot knitting needle into me.
“Ok Cassie, thank you.” He steps back. I try to get a read on his expression but can’t decipher it.
“What’s wrong with me?”
He sighs. “I believe that you have some quite serious internal bleeding. There is hardness in your abdomen that suggests the blood is clotting underneath the skin.”
“What does that mean?”
I am terrified.
“It means that blood is pooling somewhere inside you, putting pressure on your internal organs. You could end up going into shock or something inside you could fail. The pressure inside you is what’s causing the pain.” He talks calmly but mind is racing.
Am I going to die?
Please don’t let me die.
“Can you fix it?” I mean to say it bravely but it comes out in a whisper.
He shakes his head. “Not here. I don’t have the equipment.”
Mike stirs. “What can we do for her then?”
Dr. Singh shrugs. “I don’t know. Given what’s happening, it’s reasonable to assume that the hospitals will be overrun by infected people. We would be foolish to take her to one.”
I start crying, it makes me angry but I can’t help it.
“What about a field hospital?” Mike says.
“What do you mean?” Singh replies.
>
“The Army are setting up a safe zone at Alexandra Palace. We were on our way there. Could they have what we need?”
I feel a little flicker of hope as the doctor considers.
“It’s possible, even if they had a close approximation of the things you’d need, then a qualified doctor could certainly do something. It wouldn’t be pretty but it would work.”
“All the more reason to get moving then.” Mike says, rising unsteadily.
“How are we going to get there? Damien might not be back for hours.”
Dr. Singh looks non-plussed. I turn to him.
“There’s another man with us, he went out on his own to find a car, just before we met you.”
He startles me by slamming his fist down on his desk.
“Damn! If only I had come out sooner I could have saved him the trouble. My car is in the pay-and-display just behind this building.”
I’m suddenly torn.
I want to go, fuck it, need to go, but the thought of Damien coming back to find us gone-
If he’s still alive-
Shut up! He’s alive, and he’s smart he’ll stay ahead of them.
“We need to leave him a message, so he knows where we’ve gone, that we haven’t been chased off or killed.” I say.
“Where can we leave it where he’ll see?” Mike answers.
“I don’t know-”
Dr Singh cuts me off. “I have an idea. The man that attacked Tricia, is he still in the nurse’s office?”
I nod. “So is she. They were both infected. Both dead now.”
He swallows. “Good.” He puts on a disposable apron from a dispenser on the wall and slips on a pair of latex gloves. Then without looking at us he strides out of his own examination room and down the corridor.
Mike and I exchange a puzzled glance. When Dr. Singh comes back, he is carrying something and is wearing a surgical mask across the lower half of his face. We see him pass the door of the office and open the fire doors to the reception area.
“Jesus!” Larry cries.
The doctor says something muffled, to which Larry replies,
“Damien.”
Then we hear a series of wet squelching noises that last for several minutes. When he finally returns, his gloves and apron are covered in thick dark blood. He removes them quickly, putting them in the ‘hazardous waste’ disposal bin, before scrubbing his hands and forearms in the tiny sink beside me.
“What the hell was that about?” Mike asks.
“I left a sign on the wall for your friend. There was only one writing material available.” He looks grim, but to his credit, he doesn’t vomit. The smell from the bin is debilitating and it’s hard not to gag.
“Aren’t you worried about infection?” I ask.
“Not really, after all, your friend there is covered in the same infected blood that I just handled and he seems fine. I don’t think I’d be at risk unless the blood touched an open wound of my own. Or I was bitten of course.”
He dries his hands on a paper towel as he talks to us. His tone is once more business-like, calm. It’s reassuring.
“Now, I suggest we head to my car. Do you have everything you need?”
“We didn’t really bring anything.” I say. “But I don’t think I can walk.”
I’m not being melodramatic either, my legs feel numbed and leaden. I think if I stand they’ll go from underneath me.
“Alright, hang on.”
The doctor leaves for a second, returning with Larry, who looks nauseas.
“I heard them out there. I couldn’t see anyone but I heard them.” He’s talking too quickly, panicking. Dr. Singh speaks to him soothingly.
“Larry, for the next few minutes you have one thing to worry about, and that is carrying Cassie here to my car, can you do that?”
“I-”
“A simple yes or no is all I require here Larry.”
“Ok, ok yes. Good, lift her up if you please, make sure you can carry her comfortably, and carefully.”
Larry lifts me gently. It hurts but I try not to let it show, it would only stress him out further and he looks ready enough to freak out as it is.
He’s got a lot worse since Damien left.
“Now Mike, if you would be so good as to carry that weapon, I will need to be free to open the car as quickly as possible.”
Mike nods. I doubt he could even lift the pry-bar right now but I don’t say anything.
“Good then lets-”
There is a tinkling of glass followed by another of those awful rasping moans, then another, lower a different one.
“Oh fuck.” Mike says quietly. “Doc, is there another exit?”
“Yes at the end of the corridor to the right, the fire door but-”
That’s enough for Larry, with me still in his arms he bolts down the corridor as fast as he can.
“Larry, wait!” The doctor cries.
I am too busy clinging on to his big sweaty frame to say anything before we are barrelling through the door.
As soon as it slams open, a piercing wailing alarm goes off.
Oh fuck.
“Larry for fuck’s sake stop!” I yell above the din, and he is frozen, not knowing what way to go. Mike and Dr. Singh catch us up, as three of the monsters burst through the fire doors behind us.
“We have to move quickly, those things will be drawn to the noise!” Dr. Singh yells.
“Follow me!”
We let him lead as we move quickly towards the car park. Larry is sobbing, telling me he’s sorry, that he was just scared. I’m too pissed off and terrified to reply to him, all I can think is that if things get much worse he’ll drop me and leave me there.
It’s Mike who talks, his breathing laboured.
“Larry I swear to Christ if you fucking freeze up I’ll beat the shit out of you. Now shut the fuck up and move!”
“There, my car!” Dr Singh points towards a silver BMW in the corner of the car park.
For a brief second I think we are going to make it, but then four people, all moving in that jerky, shambling way, appear from the street, from behind the car, putting themselves between it and us. The three behind us are lurching out of the fire door.
We’re trapped.
“Quickly we need to-” Dr Singh doesn’t finish. More are appearing from the streets around us, drawn to the sound.
Larry is whimpering softly, I can feel his heart pounding.
“Fuck…” Mike raises the pry-bar.
This is it.
I am going to die.
One of the others might get away but I can’t run.
I’m going to be eaten alive.
A thousand terrified thoughts race through my brain.
What will it feel like as they tear me apart? Will it be quick? Will I become one of them? Will I scream?
I think I already know the answer to this last.
We draw together, almost back to back.
These three men, they could run, but none of them have. Dr. Singh doesn’t know us and he helped us. Larry is terrified, he could drop me and run, he’s strong enough to push those creatures aside, maybe enough to slip through, but he doesn’t.
And Mike.
Mike doesn’t even like me. I always thought he was a self-serving prick but….. he saved my life today, and he cares about Tess.
I hope she lives. I hope she does better than we did.
I feel strange.
God I’m burning up.
They’re almost on us now.
I close my eyes, waiting for the first touch of those bloody broken teeth.
A noise?
A car?
No.
A van.
It barrels through the car park entrance, engine roaring.
Damien is at the wheel.
My heart soars as he smashes into the three infected people that followed us, obliterating them in a flurry of dismembered limbs and bloody organs. An arm bounces off the bonnet and lands palm up in the r
oad, still twitching, a nub of bone clearly visible from the shoulder.
A woman’s head pops like an overripe melon, spattering bits of skull and brains across the tarmac. The third one is caught under the back wheel, almost cut in half, but still reaching for us, clawing and wailing. Damien yells out the window.