Her training as a dental assistant wasn’t exactly medical school, or nursing school for that matter, but those people were in very short supply and anyone with any basic medical knowledge was useful. She had found some nursing textbooks at the infirmary and had started reading them. It afforded her a basic understanding of the job and she had become familiar with most of the medical jargon and procedures performed at the infirmary. It was also somewhat therapeutic to have a purpose and a routine again.
It became immediately apparent as soon as she arrived that today, however, was anything but routine. The infirmary was buzzing. Every room was occupied by a patient and there was more waiting. The normal hum of activity had been replaced with frantic movements and raised voices.
She stood just inside the doorway looking around stunned by the scene in front of her. She didn’t know what to do first. One of the other assistants ran by, a women Kim knew as Rachel, so she reached out and grabbed her arm. The woman stopped and turned, facing Kim with a look of panic mixed with fatigue. It took her a second or two to realize she had even been stopped.
“What’s going on?” Kim asked.
Rachel stood motionless and unblinking. Kim, still holding onto the arm she had grabbed, shook the woman. That seemed to snap her out of her stupor.
“Kim!” She exclaimed. “Thank God you’re here.”
Kim repeated her question.
“It’s been like this since very early this morning…I was about to take off from the overnight shift when …” her voice trailing off.
“When what?” Kim prodded.
Rachel started to look around like she was loitering in the high school hall after the bell had rung and was about to get caught by the hall monitor.
“Soldiers started pouring in … those who were conscious started rambling on about infected … we’re not sure what they meant …”
Kim looked around the room a second time, this time focusing on the injuries. It was difficult to see what type of injuries they were dealing with but some of them could be …bites.
“Infected … inside the base … it can’t be” Kim thought to herself.
“Kim, over here!” came a shout from the other end of the waiting room.
One of the doctors had noticed Kim and was waving her over. She acknowledged him and turned back to say something to Rachel but she had already disappeared.
Kim moved through the crowded waiting area to see Dr. Dramond hovering over a young woman, probably a civilian, laid out on the reception desk. There was a large gash on her upper arm that was bleeding profusely.
“I need you to scrub stat and put some pressure on this wound,” he ordered.
Kim turned and ran to the large sink with a deep metal basin and scrubbed her hands as fact as she could, put on a pair of surgical gloves, and returned to the doctor.
He had covered the wound with disinfectant and placed gauze and a wrap on top.
“Here,” he said to Kim, “put some pressure on the wound for a few more minutes to control the bleeding then come see me.”
Kim did as she was told. She looked at the woman who was drifting in and out of consciousness. She couldn’t be more than eighteen. She thought of Danielle … and then what Rachel had said. A bad feeling began to develop in the pit of her stomach.
She looked back down at the woman’s arm. The bleeding seemed to be subsiding. Looking back around the room she heard a banging noise outside the infirmary door. Everyone was so busy it seemed she was the only one who had heard it. Maybe, she thought, it was her imagination.
That question was immediately answered when the door exploded inward, falling to the ground and landing on the floor with a loud thump. Also falling into the room were four men, obviously engaged in a violent struggle.
Kim, startled, moved away from her patient and turned to see what was happening up front.
She focused in on one of the men on top of another, pinning him to the ground. He bent over and ripped a chunk of flesh from the man’s neck. It jerked its head up and stared blankly at Kim.
Captain John Bannon guided the Gulfstream down, lining himself up with the Petersen AFB runway. It had been a relatively short flight from Silverton, less than an hour, with no problems to speak of. The plane had just dipped below 5000 feet as the base came into full view. At first, everything seemed normal. He was usually able to make out ground personnel by now, little ants running around, but the airfield looked deserted.
The plane was jarred slightly when Bannon pulled suddenly on the yoke after he noticed an explosion coming from the base. It may have been a generator but he couldn’t be sure. It took a second to steady the plane as Bannon took a closer look around the base. There was more than one fire now visible and the human ants on the ground were becoming larger. They were very busy down there, running about the base, with no real discernable purpose. He started to get a really bad feeling about what was going on down there. He hit the intercom switch.
“Major Bradley to the cockpit please,” he said.
Chapter 14
Mother
Luke and Jacob had finished removing all the dead zombies from the front lawn and piled them just off to the side of the house. They were going to burn them but decided to reset the deer trap first and bring those zombies back to the house and burn them all at once. Luke went around to the backyard where a red ATV was parked, covered in part by a blue tarp. It had a wooden hay trailer attached to its rear. Their father allowed its use only when necessary. Gas was, after all, a precious commodity.
Luke pulled up alongside his younger brother. Jacob jumped in and squeezed in the seat next to him.
“What do you think Pa’s gonna do with that thief?” Jacob asked.
“If I was that man,” Luke said as he moved slowly down the knoll and toward the road, “I’d be more concerned about mother.”
Chester’s head still throbbed but it felt much better than before. He had been able to block out the pain shooting through his body as he now had to focus on his current predicament.
The sliver of light coming through under the door at first allowed him to make out only shadows but his eyes had begun to adjust. His initial introduction to “Mother” was her smell. He could now see that she was anchored down with chains that were drilled into the floorboards. The rattling from the chains echoed inside his head. She had lunged forward several times but fell a foot short of Chester’s position. Her rotting flesh reeked, turning Chester’s stomach. But he was safe for now, as long as the chains held.
It was hard to see in the gloom but Chester could make out what appeared to be bones on the floor in front of Mother. It was impossible to be sure if they were animal bones or …
He had no weapon of any kind. Even if he did, any attempt to kill her would be very tricky. It was hard to see and any miscalculation might expose himself to a bite. He also considered the fact that they had chained her in here. They are keeping her “alive” for some reason. Maybe in the hope someone finds a cure. Whatever the reason, he decided that killing her would really piss Clyde off even more. He needed a better plan.
He tried to reason out why he was still alive. Maybe he was going to be Mother’s next meal? Clyde must be a little conflicted. Chester figured his boys would follow his lead, whatever that might be, so his main concern was the father. What was his motive? And what could Chester do to talk him into letting him go?
He tried his best to listen for any movement in the house but it was difficult to hear much above the moans and growls emanating from mother.
“Shut the hell up,” he muttered. Mother ignored his request.
Chester rotated ninety degrees so that he was now facing the door. He slid down onto his back lifting his feet above his head, his boots scraping the ceiling of the small room. He pulled his hands down behind his lower back and around his posterior. Pulling his legs inward toward his chest, he reached out as far as he could and slipped his hands over his feet. Returning to his original seated position, his han
ds were now in front of him instead of behind his back. Unfortunately, the knot Luke tied was a good one and he couldn’t wriggle out of it.
Mother reacted to all the movement at the other end of the room by lunging a few more times but once again came up short, demonstrating Einstein’s definition of insanity. Chester reached up and felt along the walls and ceiling, trying not to get too close to his roommate. He was looking for a loose piece of metal or even some wood he might be able to use as a weapon or perhaps cut loose the twine binding his wrists together.
In the upper corner, one of the metal plates overlapped the other. Chester felt for the edge and wedged his fingers in between the small space, pulling down hoping to separate the two pieces. They were soldered together and bolted into the wood. He managed, however, to bend the end slightly, but couldn’t pull the pieces apart.
A pain shot from his lower back up his spine causing him to sink back down and onto the floor. He sat for a moment, wincing in pain, hoping it would go away.
“This room got a back door?” he asked mother. She obliged him with a grunt.
When the pain subsided, he reached up once again and found the same piece of metal he had bent down. He rubbed the corner with his thumb and decided it was sharp enough to possibly cut through the twine. Turning slightly and steadying himself, he began to move his bound wrists back and forth over the metal corner. It was difficult to see what, if any progress he was making but it felt like the twine had begun to loosen.
The noise agitated Mother and she began to thrash about once again. Chester wasn’t worried until a loud crash echoed in the chamber that sounded like one of Mother’s restraints coming loose from the floorboards. He looked over at her and could barely make out a diseased hand reaching out in his direction. The iron clasp still attached to her wrist but the base at the end of the chain dangled in the air.
Chester pulled back as far as he could, pressing his aching back against the wall. All the while moving his wrists back and forth. She was close enough to grab at his clothing and pull but he was able to shake her loose each time. As long as the other restraint held, he could keep her at bay.
The other problem was the noise she was making, the unattached end clanging against the walls and floorboards. Someone inside the house would easily hear the racket and come running before he could separate his hands. He continued to move his hands, now with a little more urgency. He could definitely feel them coming apart.
His concern for Clyde suddenly opening the door and discovering his intentions subsided when he heard the second restraint give way. Mother wobbled and fell to the floor, giving Chester a few more seconds to cut through the twine. Uncoordinated to begin with and having to contend with the added weight of the constraints, Mother struggled to get back on her hands and knees. Chester rubbed the twine like his life depended on it. Which he figured it probably did.
Outside the door, he was sure he heard the sound of a key being inserted into a lock. He looked up to see his progress but it was just too dark in that corner to see much of anything. Turning his attention back to mother he could see she had righted herself and was about to lunge forward. With all his strength he pulled down as hard as he could, finally splitting the twine just as the door swung open and he was blinded by a stream of light.
Mother leaped forward. Chester instinctively moved away from the light causing her to land just in front of him, landing on his lap. He quickly moved his left arm under her neck in a choke hold and pulled her up. Using his right hand, he pulled back on her greasy hair, lifting her head up and keeping her mouth away from his arm. She struggled to break free but Chester had a firm grip. He looked through the door at a puzzled Clyde holding a lock in one hand and Chester’s machete in the other.
Clyde took a few steps back and dropped the lock as Chester scooted along the floorboards toward the door, keeping Mother in front of him at all times. When he got to the end of the door and out into the hallway he looked around to see if Luke or Jacob were anywhere around. It appeared it was just him and Clyde … and Mother for the moment.
Clyde had finally recovered from the shock of seeing his wife, the mother of his boys, being strangled by this thief. He raised the machete and glared.
“Let her go … Now!” he screamed.
Despite everything happening so quickly, Chester immediately realized that mother was his ticket out of here. Clyde was under the delusion that she was either not infected or could be saved. Either way, he had to use it to his advantage. He had reached that point of no return.
“I can help her,” Chester lied, ignoring the terrible pain in his back. “There are people at the air force base right now, working on a cure. We can bring her there.”
He had risen to his feet and turned to face Clyde, holding the reluctant Mrs. Clyde close to him, despite her unpleasant stench. He started to take small backward steps down the hallway towards the door.
“You lie,” Clyde responded. “You’re a liar and a thief.”
Clyde raised the machete a little higher as he followed after Chester and his wife. Chester remained well hidden behind her.
It would be unlikely that Chester would be able to reach the front door, open it, and leave while keeping control over Mother. She continued to struggle, nipping at him every now and again. Chester continued to move toward the door, looking for an opening. As long as he saw the thing in Chester’s arms as his wife, and not a zombie, Chester had a chance.
He was about halfway between the crawlspace and the front door when he realized it was now or never. The time had come to make his move. Luke and Jacob could show up any second and upset the balance of power really quick. In one swift motion, he released his grip on Mother’s hair and slid his hand down to the middle of her back at the same time removing his arm from around her neck. With a shove, he pushed mother forward and into the unsuspecting arms of her husband.
Clyde was taken by surprise by the sudden move and failed to mount any kind of defense. He couldn’t bring the machete down on his beloved wife. It was why she had been held captive inside the crawlspace. He didn’t want to be reminded every day what happened to her but he also couldn’t bring himself to kill her. So, he stood there as she landed on top of him and bit down hard on his exposed neck. He let out a scream as he dropped the machete.
Chester took a step forward, bent down, and retrieved his machete. He turned and headed for the door trying hard to ignore the screams behind him. Throwing the door open he darted outside slamming it shut in case mother had designs on him. Once outside he hesitated, looking around for Clyde’s boys. No one else around. At least no one living.
He noticed the pile of dead flesh off to the left. The result of his previous handiwork. Upon closer inspection, he saw the woman who had stolen his truck lying atop the pile. He moved quickly to the mound, stopping just in front of it. He scanned the lifeless infected, looking for any movement at all. Seeing none, he carefully reached into the front left jeans pocket of the woman formally known as Donna. The pocket was empty. With nothing there, he shifted a few feet over and reached into the front right pocket. Finding what he was looking for, he ran over to his truck.
All he needed now was a little luck. He opened the driver’s side door and hopped inside. Putting the key into the ignition he turned it and the engine roared to life. He checked the gas gauge. After a second or two it settled on a little more than a quarter of a tank. Probably enough gas to get back to the base. He figured Donna must have been getting low and with the Jerry cans empty, she stopped here hoping to find some fuel.
He was about to put the truck into drive when he remembered one more thing. He stretched behind him and reached under the seat removing a twelve-gauge shotgun and a box of shells. Loading it, he placed it in his lap and set the box of shells on the seat next to him. He adjusted the rearview mirror and shifted into drive. As he pulled away he could see a red ATV with a hay trailer emerging from the woods. He stepped on the gas hard, kicking up a cloud of dirt and gravel
behind him.
Chapter 15
Out in the Street
Benton Worthington III stood, arms folded, in the hot morning sun staring at the empty tarmac where his plane should be. Gunner was kneeling beside the shot-out Cadillac Escalade examining the four flat tires. He was about to relay the bad news to his boss that his car was not drivable.
It was too dark last night to chase after the Doctor so he spent most of the evening on his satellite phone communicating with associates arranging a way to get himself back to Colorado. With all the gunfire yesterday, he had no idea if the Escalade would be fit for a long drive, or any drive at all. So, a car was being driven down from Los Angeles and should be here just before sundown. It will take him, Gunner, and Mikael back to Colorado.
Benton also had time to do a great deal of thinking, spending most of it attempting to figure out who had stolen one of his doctors and killed the other, leaving him in a rather precarious position. He had promised an antidote to a few select “distributors” who will not be happy if their orders are not fulfilled. Benton seldom found himself on the short end of a scheme, as it seems he has now.
His best guess was the individuals who took Dr. Sanderson were the same men his house servant Winston told him about. They were wearing army fatigues and moved like soldiers. A “Major Somebody” as he recalled, stationed at Fort Carson, not that far from his Silverton residence. He was pretty sure that’s where they were headed. He also recognized his pilot, or more precisely his former pilot, John Bannon. He must have overheard more of his conversation with Dr. Ehrlich than originally thought. He silently cursed himself for being so stupid.
Getting Dr. Sanderson back was his first priority. He wasn’t sure how he would get into the base but that’s what he had Gunner on the payroll for.
The Zombie Principle II Page 11