"There won't be any ass to kick if we don't fuckin' move," he tugged her out into the hallway, slamming the door shut behind him. He pushed her ahead of him down the hallway towards the elevator, towards the smoke and the body. "C'mon, c'mon," he said.
"There's a body up ahead," she said. "Be careful. It should be just past the next door."
"Fine," he said. "Just hurry up."
They continued down the hallway, Vera doing her best to keep her composure, until they reached the spot where the body was. The pool of blood was still there, as was the skid mark from where she had almost slipped. "What the hell," she muttered. "Stuart, this is where the body was, I don't--"
"We gotta move, then," he said. "Go go go, get to that bloody lift already."
Her heart was beating faster now, confused as to what was going on. Was there an outbreak on that level? Did that body she saw come back to life? A shiver ran down her spine while she started picking up the pace, the smell of the smoke filling her lungs up again and making her cough. The elevator was just a little way ahead; she dashed the last few feet, pressing the call button when she heard a groan from up ahead. Before she knew it she felt a pair of hands on her and let out a scream, Stuart jogged towards her, firing shots off towards the ceiling.
"Help!" She cried out, pinned up against the wall and feeling the strong hands pushing her back. His tongue lashed out towards her when another shot rang out and the hands let go, the body slumping over onto her. Vera heard the ding of the elevator and scrambled away from the body, letting it fall to the floor when she heard it—just like earlier—the blood-curdling scream that shook the entire building.
"Oh fuckin' hell," Stuart muttered, looking down the hall before he started quickly rattling off shots at it. "Get out of here and don't look back," he called to her, the door sliding shut while he pressed forward, screaming and firing into the smoky abyss.
Nine
The Doctor
That was perhaps the longest night since their arrival at Branch Tower. It was almost unfathomable that this was their final destination, the light at the end of the tunnel, the monument to their salvation. Instead, it was another nightmare with a different wrapper on it. The screams, the shrieks, the alarms all night, while Branch's guards stood in the hallways with their full riot gear and automatic weapons urging everyone to stay inside of their rooms. There were no answers to be given, only the privileged few could know what was really happening at that compound.
Dr. Faraday and Elsie were simply prisoners now, prisoners inside of a fully furnished cell under the pretense to keeping Branch's idyllic society afloat. There was no life outside of whatever Branch demanded unless you were one of his filthy-rich. She learned that the hard way when Branch had assigned her to clinic duty while they were leaving his personal box after that... display, whatever he wanted to crusade it around as. It was not only inhumane; it was inhuman to force people—survivors of the apocalypse—to tear each other to shreds for entertainment value.
"Auntie Ruth?" Elsie balled her fists up and rubbed at her eyes. She had fallen asleep just before sunrise, after the cries and the alarms had stopped. From one nightmare into the next for this poor girl.
"I'm here, sweetie," she pulled her in closer.
"Is everything okay?"
"Everything is great, the alarms have stopped and everything is normal again."
"I'm hungry, can we eat?"
"I suppose that we should," she said, "I'm going to have an interesting day ahead of me."
"What do you mean?"
"Well, you know that Auntie Ruth is a doctor, right?"
Elsie nodded.
"I need to go and help people for a while, so you'll be on your own, but you can watch TV and you can color and..."
"No!" The girl grasped onto her tightly. "You can't leave!"
"Oh sweetheart, I have to help people, but I promise that I'll be back."
"You promise?"
"Of course I do," she ran her fingers through Elsie's curls.
"... Mom promised me that we'd be here together, but..." Tears welled up in her eyes.
"Oh Elsie, I'm so sorry. It'll just be a little while and..."
There was a pounding at the door that caught her off-guard. Then another.
"Hello?" She called out, Elsie having pulled a pillow over her head, scared to death considering the commotion the last night.
"Don't get it," the girl plead.
"It'll be alright, I promise."
The lock undid itself and the door swung open, two of Branch's goons from the prior night storming into the room. "Doesn't anyone answer their fuckin' door anymore?"
"Oh, uh, Stuart, is it?"
"Aye," he said, a gun ominously draped over his shoulder.
"She just had such a difficult time sleeping last night is all, I was just explaining to her that I had to help some people today."
"Oh," he looked confused. "Yeah, you uh, gotta help the nice people. She'll be back, don't ya worry. C'mon, doc, ya got work ta do."
"We were going to get some breakfast first, if that's okay."
"Nope, gotta get this show movin' already."
"Come now, we don't have time for some toast and juice, at least?"
"No," he said, keeping the quiet, shorter man with the scars at bay after he had started to push towards her aggressively. "Fuck off, Vic, I got this. I don't think that you understand, doc, Mr. Branch runs a tight ship, we need you to report there now."
"I understand," she said, pulling Elsie in tight and kissing her on the forehead. "I'll be back soon, won't I, Stuart?"
"Um, yeah, just watch the tele or sum'thin. Vic," he said to the shorter man, "bring the girl some toast and juice, alright?"
He didn't reply, just a curt nod, and he left the room. Dr. Faraday gave Elsie another kiss on the forehead and wiped away a tear before she picked herself up and followed Stuart out of the room.
"Thank you," she said while he led her down the hallway.
"Huh?"
"For getting her something to eat, she was so scared last night, you know. What was that?"
"What was what?"
"The screams, the alarms, the gunfire, the guards, the whole thing."
"Oh, right, just uh, had an issue to deal with down in the labs is all."
"I see," she said. "Is that near where the clinic is?"
"Ha," he chortled, "clinic? Who told ya that, Branch? He wishes it was a clinic. It's a fuckin' mess."
"So what will I be doing, exactly?"
"Few'a my boys got hurt last night, some pretty bad, doc. And we need someone to look after the boys from the arena and all..."
"I see. He had said something about research, I just wasn't sure..."
"Peterson lost his head the other night, maybe if ya impress the big man there's a spot in research, although I wouldn't want none'uh that."
"Is Mr. Branch's research that difficult?"
"You could say," he ushered her into the elevator, pressing the button for the basement level. The ride down was quiet, Stuart liked to keep to himself it seemed, much like everyone else. Branch was the only one boasting and feeling free, while everyone else was simply living inside of his world.
"About the arena..."
"What?"
"Is that... normal?"
He laughed again, "Whaddaya mean 'normal?' Like, does it happen often? Ya, my brother is the champion."
"The man with the exploding punch?"
"Aye, that's my big brother."
"You must be... proud?"
"Oh ya, we're doin' alright here. Branch seems ta like us, everythin' is great."
"That's good, I suppose. Your brother put on quite a spectacle."
"Yeah, well, I do my job well, too, but I just don't have to put on a big fuckin' show about it. I'm Branch's right hand, he can't exist without me. My brother? Pffft."
"I'm sure that you are valued."
"Ya damned straight. Branch'll talk shit about Will, too, ya know? Calls him
a louse, lazy, stupid, but I keep my mouth shut. He gets two broads in his room, I ain't got shit, but does Stuart complain when his monster breaks loose and kills ten of my men? Oh no, I clean up that mess and..."
She looked on in horror.
"Oh, sorry, I uh, you should forget that last bit about the monster and whatnot."
"Understood."
He led her through the same parking structure as before, although it was more quiet. Fresh blood stained the walls in the basement level, the stench of blood, ammonia, and unease filled the air. So much so that it was a welcome reprieve to step out into the parking structure, that was, until she saw the cots laying out with the mangled bodies adorning them. A few were clearly dead, but others had crude IV lines running into them and were strapped down, struggling and calling out for anyone.
"My god..."
"Kinda a mess down here," he apologized, "but uh, we need some help."
"Yes, yes, you do."
Working without much sleep wasn't uncommon for Dr. Faraday, even before the fall of mankind. Earlier on in her career she had worked tirelessly before she had her own practice, then things calmed down, although not by much. Being in charge might have been a dream for many, but for her it felt like an unneeded complication. Practicing was her passion, not managing receptionists, nurses and dealing with supplies. Little did she know how valuable those skills would be after the bombs dropped, after that comfortable life and career that she had build was smoldering ashes.
Horrors in that post-humanity era were around every corner. They never ended. Branch Tower was supposed to be the end-of-the-line, although she had always expected it not to even exist. Perhaps it would have been better if it hadn't existed, if the caravan had been disappointed by the lack of an oasis in the middle of the wasteland, yet it was real and it was the end for most of them. The new horror, though, were the men that she was tending to. Their injuries were all fatal, this was simply comfort care, although there were enough painkillers to put them to sleep and let them at least go quietly. In fact, she was taken aback by how much morphine there was.
It was almost like he prepared for the world to fall apart. Then again, it was mostly his fault. The undead were from his program and the nukes were from his tests in Kharkiv where a few of the subjects escaped, triggering the first outbreak. Everything after that was a blur, everything that is, except for these men and their strange, animalistic wounds. They looked like they were mauled. Stuart was shy about giving details, but it was clear from that... that beast that they saw in the arena the night before. No human had inflicted those injuries.
"Doc," Stuart approached her, "Handsome Bill needs ya ta look over the boys before tonight."
"What about these men?"
"Ya done the best for 'em, more than any of us coulda. They got morphine, that's the best they can expect."
"I'm not a surgeon, I can't save any of them, I just..."
"Nobody was askin' ya to."
With that, he led her to an area off to the side behind a chainlink fence wrapped in barbed wire. There was a giant chain and lock on the door and two guards standing there. When they saw Stuart approaching, they unlocked it and swung the door open for him, Stuart letting her go in before him. It was simply a continuation of the parking structure, but filled with men in ill-fitting armor mulling about. These must be the competitors for Branch's archaic games. Stuart led her to a large, bald man in a pair of tight overalls with a clipboard.
"Ah Stuart my boy," he slapped Stuart on the back, Stuart cringing and holding back a curse. "Who ya got with ya, this one ain't for the arena, eh?"
"Nah, she's a doc. She can help patch up these boys before they head out there."
"Fuck me, finally some help down here? I'm Handsome Bill and I care for all of these scoundrels before they entertain you lot."
"I'm Dr. Faraday, a pleasure, I'm sure."
"Listen to her!" He laughed. "All proper and whatnot, she new or what?"
"Fresh in off the boat," Stuart said. "Bill, you take care'v this'un, ya hear me?"
"Aye aye aye," he spat. "Won't let any of these mangy mutts get their paws on her, just fuck off already."
"Fuck you, Bill," Stuart said, although she wasn't able to tell if they were joking or not anymore. The animosity seemed real, although laced with begrudging respect. With that he stomped off, leaving her with this mountain of a man and his clipboard.
"Just the two of us then, ain't it? I s'pose ya should start checkin' the boys out."
"Where are your medical supplies?"
"Over here behind me we've got the medical closet, I'll send 'em in if they need watchin', but it'll mostly be after the fights. Feel free 'ta walk around and see who needs what, I gotta lotta prep for tonight."
She settled into the closet, doing a quick inventory of what was in there. Essentially, it was just the basics; painkillers, bandages, wraps, a few crude tools and some rubbing alcohol for sterilization. For a place that was supposed to be the brightest hope for humanity, where Branch was conducting top-secret, mankind-saving experiments, he sure didn't share most of his medical supplies. Not all men were worth saving, which hit her harder than she thought that it would. She had known that since the moment that Branch's goons assaulted the convoy, but there was still that strange flicker of hope for humanity burning inside of her.
These tools weren't to save lives, they were stopgaps to keep someone from immediately bleeding out. There were no signs of anticoagulants, antibiotics or anything that she'd really need to treat what would be gruesome injuries, just like those guards that she had simply provided minimal comfort care to. The look on that boy's face—Stuart—told the whole story. A part of him thought that she'd be able to work some sort of miracle for those men, to save them with the crude tools at her disposal, only to let them die.
The battles outside had begun, that much was clear from the booming sounds that shook the entire structure. The ebb and flow of the crowd made her stomach churn. Those boys that she had walked by before—the ones in the crude armor with the makeshift weapons—they were the ones out there, and they were undoubtedly killing each other for the entertainment of the people. For Branch. She'd like to say that she heard his voice breaking through, but she didn't. It was just a part of her mind looking for a reason, or at least someone to blame.
The wounded started to stream through, some with minor cuts and abrasions, others brought back on stretchers either dead or barely clinging to life. Quickly she fell into a pattern; sort by wound severity and chance of survival, the mortally wounded got shots of morphine, those who might live got shots of adrenaline along with their morphine and the living with the minor scrapes and cuts were given a few Ibuprofen pills and a cup of water.
"Doc, doc, doc," one of the men that she thought wouldn't make it through the hour clawed up at the sky before finding her shirt and tugging at it.
"Oh sweetie," she felt his forehead, him running a fever and beaded with sweat, "you have to hold still. Don't make me call Bill over to strap you down."
"Just gimme the juice already," he grit his teeth.
"I need you awake, if I let you sleep I'm not sure that you'll wake..."
"Just do it!" His face was mangled in desperation.
"I... can't, if you'll just hold on..."
"I've been holdin', I was victorious today, let that be my legacy."
"At what cost?"
"Just... Please."
Dr. Faraday hovered over him with a needle in hand. This was 60mgs, enough to put him out for a while and potentially take away his pain. With the right tools, though, this man could be saved. Those tools weren't at her disposal, but they had to be in this compound, otherwise what was the point of all of this? She had to find Handsome Bill or Stuart and try to get this man something more than just a ticket to the infinite dark. Too many had died already in the name of nothing. She dropped the syringe and stalked off, looking for someone, anyone, when she tripped over a set of boots.
Her eyes fo
llowed them before she gasped, "Tom? What are you doing here?"
There sat TK Gabriel, all decked out in a set of new, distressed leather clothing, leaning up against a set of lockers with his eyes closed. This was one of his things, she learned that quickly when he had arrived at their outpost; he slept sitting up with a gun in his hand, propped up against his bike. There was no way that it was restful sleep, but even now, there he was, without his bike and that giant tarp that was tied to the back of it, or his gun, sleeping sitting up.
"Yeah," he groaned. "I'm here."
"But why?"
He just shrugged.
"Don't tell me that they are making you fight."
He let out a sigh and a miniscule set of nods.
"But... But why? Weren't you a guest of honor?"
"He pissed off the boss," Bill boomed. "Ya don't get made guest of honor and then piss all over yer host, everyone knows that."
"So he's tossing you out into that pit to fight for your life?"
"Don't sound so incredulous, doc, that's how it works now. I thought ya knew that. Oh, and Gabriel, Branch gave the go ahead on the ring, they're setting it up right now, but be mighty careful. I heard that Farrington is stomping around and he's pissed, though."
"I'll deal," Tom stretched his arms out and pulled himself up to his feet.
"I don't get ya, antagonizing the lot here. Ya just got here," he shook his head and started to walk off before the doctor grabbed his arm.
"Bill, do we have any other medical supplies at all? I can't save lives with this, there's a boy over there now and..."
"No," he said, curtly.
"But..."
"Do what ya can with what ya got, I've got enough problems right now than to worry about some bilge rat, okay?"
"I just... Okay."
With that she turned back to her closet and back to the cot where that boy lay, only he was passed out. The needle, she thought, remembering having placed it down. There was it, next to him and emptied. One simple mistake and she had sealed his fate. Maybe that's what she knew and had done it unwittingly? There was no way of knowing anymore. Her head was swimming.
The Tower Page 9