Dead Lez Walking

by G. Benson

  Grinning, she met his eyes and gave a ‘what can you do’ look. He copied the expression as he held up his own two stuffed bags of medications. She indicated to the poles. His eyebrows raised even higher, and he gave a nod of appreciation. Maybe there was another look in his eye, too.

  She liked Raj. Really, she did. Easy to talk to, a little shy, quieter. But funny when he opened up.

  She hadn’t meant to insinuate it was anything more, though. So often she thought she was being friendly and people thought it was more, and it never quite fit in her head because she was purely being herself.

  Breaking eye contact, she turned and grabbed both bags in one hand. Like she would with her old netball bag, she raised her arm up so the bags fell down her arm and the cords settled on her shoulder. It worked. She had to awkwardly keep her shoulder raised an inch to keep them slipping down, but now she could hold a pole in her hand. Swiftly, she picked one up, adjusting to the weight in her hand, and stared at the hooks. Could she really use this? She turned and saw the security guard lying on the floor through the doorway, legs spread-eagled and a pool of blood around him.

  Yes, she could.

  She pulled her gaze away and caught Raj’s. His bags were slung over his shoulder, and somehow, he was holding the baton in one hand with one pole and the two others in the other hand.

  Maybe she was jealous of his two functioning arms.

  He walked forward, and she wanted to protest that he didn’t have to go first, but who was she kidding? This arm made it necessary.

  Raj stopped dead, and she walked straight into him.

  “What the—”

  Her shrill whisper was interrupted by his rapid step back and she checked down the hall the way the others had gone.

  One of them was walking towards them.

  Slow, but not slow enough to make her feel very good.

  Speeding up now.

  Terrifying.

  Her hungry gaze was fastened on them, and Natalie’s insides turned to water. Something fleshy was hanging from her mouth and she was grunting in what could only be excitement at the sight of them. Stripy socks were hiked up her legs.

  A metre away, the security guard’s legs twitched.

  Natalie felt like a bucket of ice was dropped down her back.

  “Shit,” Natalie whispered. “Bail?”

  “Bail.”

  Natalie went first, and it took her a moment to realise Raj had paused again. She turned, clutching that metal pole in her hand. Raj was staring down at the security guard—Adrian—and straightened his shoulders and Adrian’s arm lifted, hand planted on the ground, as if bracing to push himself up. Raj took two determined steps towards him, Stripy-Socked lady getting closer.

  “Raj!” Natalie hissed.

  He brought the baton down once, twice on Adrian’s head, then didn’t even pause before he turned back to Natalie, face twisted in something unrecognisable.

  They ran. Awkwardly, but still running. They skirted the broken vase and water on the floor, flowers crushed on the ground, petals scattered. Raj shoved the door open and Natalie fell after him. Pain lanced through her shoulder as she collided with him, but she didn’t even care. She only wanted away from what was behind them. The door jolted as they made it through the doorway.

  The body they ran flat into flew back a good two metres, landing on the ground with a thud.

  Raj and Natalie pulled up short, the double door shutting behind them with a soft hiss. They just kept colliding with people. It must be what happened when one was in a constant state of fleeing.

  Whoever was on the floor had an arm flung over their face and was groaning.

  “Shit.”

  Natalie raised her IV pole.

  Joy

  1755

  They couldn’t get through.

  All hyped up on adrenaline, Joy stood next to Xin, staring at the double doors that normally pushed open so easily. She’d walked through them a couple of hours before all this hell had started, actually.

  The run through the Vascular Ward, the other two with knives up, Joy empty-handed since she’d left hers covered in foam, had left her heart racing, but apparently for no reason. They’d emerged out of the ward and into the corridor, nothing chasing them, into utter quiet, the incessant beeping of an IV machine finally fading.

  Joy squeezed her eyes shut for a moment, trying to erase the image of the patient hanging off the bed, arm held up to the side by the tube of their IV, tugged tight over the bed on the other side by the machine whose alarm kept going off. The IV machine was splattered with red.

  But she wasn’t there anymore. She opened her eyes.

  Now they stood in the eerie silence, staring at the double doors that would lead them to the canteen, elevators to A&E they sure as hell weren’t going near, and the walkway to Block B. Through the windows on the doors, all they could see was an empty corridor, unable to angle enough to see the canteen. Joy had glanced out the windows on the wall that looked out to a car park, shocked to see that the line of the barricade, sandbags, and military people spread around here too. They had the entire hospital surrounded and locked down.

  She shared a quiet look with Taren as she peeked too, and they frowned at each other.

  “Weird after the scene in the ward to be somewhere with no blood,” Xin said, voice low and gravelly.

  Joy looked away, everything so sterile and clean compared to what they’d left behind.

  “How the hell did they barricade these doors?” Taren muttered, voice tight.

  Chewing her lip, Joy studied the hinges. “Remember when they updated the security system and the fire control system and things? I think some of the doors have some kind of magnetic lock…thing. Maybe they did it with that?”

  This was a nightmare. They were getting nowhere, and Joy was feeling more than shaky now. She had only been dealing with this diabetes thing for a few weeks, but she knew what was coming. She needed to eat. And, of course, the cycle being what it was, she needed the fast-acting insulin after she ate or she’d spike, even with the long-acting insulin she took once a day. One thing she was grateful for was that she’d got this as an adult and hadn’t had to deal with it as a kid. That would have been hell.

  But she really needed to eat.

  “What if we ram it?”

  The glee in Xin’s voice took her by surprise. When Joy had first met her, she’d seen her as a bit of the quiet, innocent type—sure, with a go get ‘em style, but very young. And here she was, holding herself together far better than Joy was managing. Over thirty years of martial arts training and Joy had managed two kicks and nothing more. When confronted with the people—that was what they were—something froze inside her, and Joy couldn’t bring herself to attack.

  A voice inside screamed at her that she knew these people had died. That dead people didn’t come back.

  But her brain wouldn’t accept it. What if there were some kind of cure?

  Taren and Joy both turned to Xin, standing between them.

  “What?” Taren asked.

  There was a gleam in Xin’s eye. “Let’s ram it.”

  Joy sighed. Her head was starting to throb and this reality was a little daunting.

  On the other hand, Taren’s eyes had lit up as she and Xin slipped their knives in their deep scrub pockets. “Enough force, if Ayton’s right about the magnetic thing, should disrupt it, yeah?”

  “Exactly,” Xin said.

  The corridor had some skips in it, full of old linen. Between a group of them was a linen trolley, stacked with sheets and pillowcases, standing higher than their heads and on wheels, like everything in the bloody hospital was, for mobility. Both Xin and Taren followed her line of sight.

  “That’ll do.” Xin walked forward and grasped it. “You guys going to help, or what?”

  Avoiding Taren’s eye, Joy walked forward, and together the three of them manoeuvred it so they could run it a few metres at an angle
towards the door.

  “This is going to make a lot of n-noise.” Joy’s nerves were definitely showing in her voice, and she hated that. She hated that she was starting to feel clammy and weak, and that she was nervous, and that everyone was probably seeing her as the one who couldn’t hold their shit together.

  “Any other option?” The smile Taren threw her was like the one she’d first given in A&E when Joy had first met her—a flash of white, confident but kind. The one that had made Joy’s stomach flip and find herself searching for stupid reasons to go back to A&E.

  “Nope.”

  “Let’s go then, team,” Xin said.

  Remembering why she had blown Taren off was hard when she smiled like that.

  Well, she’d known it had nothing to do with Taren. Which she’d tried to tell Taren.

  And the why was seeming a bit…ridiculous, given the circumstances.

  Biting her lip to bring herself back to the present, Joy tightened her grip on the trolley.

  “One. Two. Three!”

  After Xin’s count in, they pushed it all at once and it hit the door with a crashing sound that made Joy’s insides go cold at the idea of what could have heard it. Nothing happened.

  “Again,” Taren hissed.

  They rammed again. Another crash. Sweat broke out all over Joy’s back, itching at her spine. One last time, and the door swung open, and their momentum carried them all forward until they hit the trolley. Involuntarily, Joy grunted and grabbed her knee after it crashed into the corner and starting throbbing instantly.

  This was a shit day.

  They went completely still, Joy’s hand cupping her knee.

  They all looked up and down the corridor.

  A minute passed.

  Nothing came.

  Hesitantly, Xin tiptoed around the trolley, half in the doorway, and tried to peer around it to see down the very short hallway that led to the canteen.

  “Nothing there.” She turned back to them. “Let’s get some food. Joy’s a bit green.”

  The concerned look Taren flashed her also made it hard to remember why Joy had decided to not continue whatever it was they had been doing.

  She’d had a really good night.

  Kicking herself, Joy cautiously stepped forward, knee fine, maybe a bruise forming. She must be really low on sugar. Her fingers were trembling, and nausea was settling into her belly.

  As silently as they could, they let the door close behind them, hoping it would stop anything following them. Joy nudged it open an inch before leaving it, relief flooding her that it still opened, whatever locking mechanism not engaging again.

  Side by side, they stood at the end of the hallway, looking down to the other end. Xin and Taren pulled out their pathetic little knives and held them up. Everything was lit up like normal; the only things that proved this was not a common day were the eerie silence and the lack of people. Normally, everything was bustling.

  Hospitals were not supposed to be this quiet.

  Xin’s whisper made Taren jump. “So…we’re sure they evacuated everyone in the other block, right?”

  “Apparently,” Taren whispered back. “They think the virus didn’t go this far. And I think Natalie and Raj said that people who could move ran from the ward out here. Maybe they got out to the other block before they shut down?”

  That was a nice thought.

  Xin turned to look at Taren and Joy did too. “And they said they abandoned anyone that had anything resembling a bite mark?”

  The look on Taren’s face was grim. “Yep.”

  Sighing, they looked back down the hallway.

  “Let’s go then.”

  The walk down the short hallway, shoulder to shoulder, was fast and excruciatingly slow at the same time. Joy’s heart hammered in her chest, and she tried to ignore the roiling in her guts. Her palms were clammy.

  At the end of the corridor, there was nobody.

  It opened into a small area where three elevators stood. On the left, the canteen; ahead, the doors to the walkway.

  Taren quickly went forward and tried the doors. They were all locked. On tiptoes, she peered through the little circular windows in each one. She turned back and shrugged at them.

  “These seem jammed like the others, but also have stuff barricading them from the other side.” She smiled—tense, Joy thought. “They really didn’t want us leaving here. There’s no way we’re ramming through all this stuff.”

  Making their way left, they emerged into the canteen. Without entering, they surveyed the room.

  Strange, to see a room normally so busy now the complete opposite. The room was empty, the tables covered with abandoned trays and drinks. Windows lined the opposite wall, natural light flooding in. One of the only places in the hospital that wasn’t mostly fluorescent lights.

  “Anyone notice that humming sound?” Xin whispered.

  Now that she’d mentioned it, it was all Joy could hear. It seemed so loud.

  “The drinks fridge,” Taren said. “Guess it’s normally so loud in here we don’t notice it…”

  Joy had never seen the canteen empty. Even at four a.m., a few staff members and patients and visitors were scattered around. Something like homesickness twisted in her gut—a longing for normality. Nothing was normal.

  Since nobody was there at first glance, Joy strode forward and picked up half of an untouched, abandoned sandwich, not even caring what was in it. She crammed it in her mouth and bit, barely chewing or tasting it. She turned to look at Taren and Xin, still standing in the doorway, and shrugged at their raised eyebrows.

  A cookie, full of fast-acting sugar, was wolfed down, and she automatically started to feel better.

  Sugar was glorious.

  She sat down, glad they’d got here quickly, and kept eating.

  “Don’t judge me.” There was definitely still food in her mouth when she said that.

  Taren and Xin looked sideways at each other and were probably smirking, but Joy didn’t care.

  “Want to find a bag and stuff it with food and water?” Taren asked Xin, knives going away again.

  Xin was already walking behind the counter after cautiously glancing around it. It was laden with chocolate bars and lollies, plus the odd bag of nuts to act like they offered healthy options. “Yes.”

  They rummaged behind the counter, and Joy sat, eating the other half of the sandwich much more sedately. It was ham and cheese. A classic. On plain white bread that plastered itself to the roof of her mouth. Gross, but oddly satisfying. She normally ate rye bread, and the taste of soft, white bread was reminiscent of school lunches when she’d been a child.

  She watched Xin and Taren appear behind the counter, then duck away as they knelt, then pop back up, reaching for things Joy couldn’t see. She sat, chewing, as Taren reached up, shirt pulling up, long arms pulling down packets of chips she shoved in a plastic bag she’d procured.

  Joy had put her lips right there, on that sliver of hip bone above her scrub pants. She’d run her tongue up her stomach from there. Tugged her underwear down, down, down.

  Taren was staring at her.

  What Joy was thinking must have been written all over her face. Had she stopped eating with the sandwich halfway to her mouth? Yes, she had.

  She tried the smallest, most fragile of half-smiles.

  Taren’s brow furrowed. No, that was more than a furrow. She was frowning.

  A flash of anger in her eyes.

  Oops.

  Joy went back to her sandwich, heat crawling up her neck. And into her cheeks. She did not blush.

  Stupid Taren.

  Who was sliding into the seat next to her, sitting sideways on it so her knees were mere centimetres from Joy’s thigh. Her elbow went on the edge of the table, her head resting in her hand as she just…stared at Joy.

  From behind the counter, Xin made obvious ‘I’m in the pantry and not looking your way, not at all’ sou
nds.

  Oh no.

  Joy swallowed her bite and turned to Taren, who was slowly chewing gum and still…staring. With big, soft, incredible brown eyes. Joy was a sucker for eyes. For warmth and laughter. For the lines around them. For the way they could darken or lighten.

  She was a sucker for Taren’s more than most.

  “Did you steal a chewy?” Joy asked.

  “I did. Minty fresh.” Taren cracked the gum as proof, and just kept staring at her.

  Being on display was not Joy’s favourite feeling. Taren had watched her like this over dinner that night, too. Eyes gentler, then. Full of laughter.

  Maybe not like this, then. Because her eyes were filled with none of that.

  “Did you blow me off because you got diagnosed with diabetes?” Taren asked.

  Joy dropped her sandwich. On her lap. She picked it up and put it back on her tray. She was blushing. Again.

  None of this was optimal.

  “That was direct.” Joy straightened, turning in her chair. Her thigh was even closer to Taren’s knees. That seemed to go unnoticed, though, as Taren simply kept that gaze on her, chewing on her gum. Also looking a touch smug.

  “Yes, well.” Taren ran a finger along a crack in the table. “We had great chemistry. For weeks. Maybe, even, we were flirting for months?” Taren raised her eyebrows and when Joy didn’t disagree, she continued. “We had a great dinner.” Her voice dropped an octave on the last part. “And see, if after what made dinner so great had been when you left, maybe I’d have thought we had awful sex in that bathroom—at least, that you did. But you invited me to your house.”

  Those damn eyes wouldn’t leave her face. Joy had nowhere to go. People were dying. This was ridiculous. But she didn’t stand up and leave. Or even move to turn away.

  “And we had some really good times that night. Several. And in the morning. We—” and here she gestured her hand between the two of them, coming awfully close to brushing against Joy, causing her to swallow heavily “—were great together. I know because I was there. And I think I have a good enough read of people to know you enjoyed yourself.”

  Joy huffed a breath through her nose, jaw clenching. “I did.” She softened. It was impossible not to with Taren leaning in imperceptibly, those knees now scarcely brushing Joy’s thigh. The world falling apart around them, and the tiniest of reprieves being granted as Xin left them alone and no one tried to eat them. “I very much did.”