“I don’t appreciate being interrupted,” Warren snarled into the phone.
“Get back to my office right away,” Gunther said while breathing heavily from the other end. It almost sounded as if he was running while talking.
“I wasn’t quite finished--”
“Now, Warren!” The phone clicked.
Warren frowned and returned his phone to his pocket. He muttered something under his breath and headed back for the emergency room doors.
†
Gunther ran into his office while breathing heavily and gasping for air. He had run the entire distance from the basement to his office on the fifth floor, taking the least traveled routes, which involved a lot of stairs. The surgeon wasn’t in terrible shape, but he certainly wasn’t in marathon condition. He found some gauze in a cabinet and wrapped his oozing, bleeding arm. The door opened, startling him. He pulled his lab coat sleeve down and turned to face Warren, who entered without care and appeared annoyed.
“Why did you interrupt me?” Warren demanded. “I was about to take care of our EMT situation.”
“You can deal with them later,” Gunther informed him while still panting out of breath. “That serum reanimated Newman. He came back to life and ate Frank.”
“Ate Frank?” Warren asked with surprise and stared into Gunther’s eyes, waiting for the punch line. When one didn’t come, he eyed him skeptically. “What are you on?”
“Listen to me,” Gunther shouted and took a quick step closer to Warren. He stared into his eyes with a serious look that surprised the tough man. “That serum reanimates the dead. Not just their tissue, but also their entire bodies. We need to dispose of Newman--again.”
“You’re serious?” he announced and tilted his head. “You think he came back to life? Do you seriously believe Newman is a zombie?”
“You can have a look for yourself when you go back to the lab and shoot him again,” Gunter lashed out. “We have bigger problems right now.”
“Bigger than a dead cannibal?” Warren mocked.
Gunther was losing patience with the tough man standing before him. “If that serum was airborne in the stairwell when it affected Newman, that means it could have infected Dr. Kirby as well,” he informed Warren. “If the funeral home embalms her and disposes her blood into the sewer system as many of them do, we could be looking at an epidemic of the entire town. I need you to find out what funeral home took her and bring her body back immediately.” He attempted to compose himself and gingerly rubbed his wrapped arm beneath his lab coat. “Once I’ve done tests on her blood and tissue and confirm she hadn’t been exposed, we’ll burn all the bodies in the incinerator.”
“What about the nurse and the EMT?”
“We have more than enough time to deal with them. Deal with Newman first, and then go to whichever funeral home the Kirby’s contracted. Bring the doctor’s body back here,” he replied firmly then collected himself. He took a deep breath and calmed slightly. “I hope I’m being paranoid over nothing, but if I’m not and she’s been infected, she could reanimate and do a lot of damage. I need to get this under control now.”
Warren nodded despite his look of disbelief to what Dr. Sharp was saying and turned toward the office door.
“Warren,” Gunther suddenly announced, causing Warren to turn and look back at the concerned doctor. “If she was infected and turned like Newman, there’s no telling what she’ll do and who she might injure. I’ll need you to round up any witnesses and bring them to me. Understood?”
“And if they don’t want to come willingly?”
“Then you have permission to bring them in any way and in any condition you feel necessary.”
Warren gave him a slight smirk, nodded, and left the office. He obviously enjoyed his work a little more than he should. Gunther appeared concerned and rubbed the wrapped wound through his lab coat. The discolored blood was already seeping through his sleeve. It wasn’t a good sign and infection was evident. Running a blood test on himself would tell him if the infection was life threatening or not. Unfortunately, the only place he could do a blood test was in the basement lab.
Chapter Sixteen
It was later that evening and the sun was finally setting over the quiet town. Monica sat within the back of the ambulance parked just outside the hospital emergency room. She busily worked on sterilizing the stretcher within the back beyond the open doors. Evan sat on the nearby bench and held his head with little movement. Normally he’d be smoking a cigarette, but he didn’t seem to have enough energy to do even that. Monica glanced at him several times and became concerned about her partner. He no longer looked exhausted, he looked sick.
“Hey, you okay?” Monica finally asked.
“I feel like shit,” he muttered. “I think I’m getting some crazy ass flu.”
Monica jumped from the back of the ambulance, approached Evan while removing her gloves, and studied his pale, sweaty skin. She touched his forehead, expecting him to be burning up, and suddenly appeared surprised.
“Jesus, you’re freezing,” she gasped and allowed her concern to consume her. She wasn’t exactly the most nurturing woman most of the time, but this was her partner and that made everything different. “Let’s get you into the emergency room and have one of the nurses look at you.”
“I’m so weak,” he said softly. “I can’t believe how quickly this bug hit.”
She reached down to help him up.
He held up his hand and protested slightly. “Don’t get too close,” he informed her in a faint tone. “I don’t want you catching it from me.”
Monica rolled her eyes and pulled him to his feet without hesitation. “Save your chivalric, sentimental bullshit for your girlfriend.”
†
The emergency room was only slightly busier than usual. There were a little over twenty people awaiting medical attention. A man and woman in their early thirties sat with a ten-year-old girl, Allison, who wore a torn, dirty dress. Her long, black hair contained fragments of dirt and tree bark. She held an ice pack to her lower arm. By the large amount of swelling and discoloration, her arm was undoubtedly broken. Her father, Peter, fidgeted with impatience from their wait. Her mother, Ellen, seemed more concerned over their daughter’s discomfort.
“I don’t know why you thought you could climb that tree, Allison,” her mother gently announced while shaking her head with disapproval.
“The boys didn’t think I could,” Allison replied. “I knew I could, so I had to prove it.”
“Yes, but not in a dress,” her mother scolded.
Allison appeared ashamed and looked at her torn dress. “I’m sorry I ruined my dress.”
Ellen laughed softly and gently hugged her daughter. “The dress can be replaced. It’s you I’m worried about.”
“It’s okay, Mommy,” Allison replied. “It doesn’t really hurt that much now.”
A robust woman in her early fifties, Pricilla, hurried across the waiting room and stopped before them with concern on her face. She stared at her granddaughter.
“What happened, my dear?” Pricilla asked.
Allison looked up and immediately smiled. “Nana!” The little girl sprang up from her chair and hugged her grandmother with her good arm.
She gently returned the hug and pulled away to look at her. “What did you do, Allison?”
“Showing off in front of the boys,” Peter scoffed. “Where the hell are these people?”
He looked around the waiting room for any sign of a doctor, nurse, or orderly. None seemed to be available except Patty behind the desk. As if on cue, one of the nurses appeared from the coveted emergency room doors and approached them. She smiled pleasantly at Allison, although she seemed distracted.
“Let’s take you back to one of our exam rooms and have a look at that arm,” the nurse announced.
All three attempted to follow. The nurse looked back and maintained her polite demeanor.
“Just the parents, if you don’t mind,
” she announced to the little girl’s grandmother.
Pricilla managed a tiny smile, pretended not to be offended, and nodded. “I’ll just wait here.”
The nurse led Allison and her parents through the mysterious door to the emergency room. Monica helped Evan through the main doors and across the emergency room toward the front desk. Evan leaned on the front desk while Monica caught the attention of the older nurse busily working behind it.
“Patty, there’s something wrong with Evan,” Monica announced with mild concern in her voice. “He’s got some sort of messed up flu, but there’s no fever.”
“Him too?” Patty asked and appeared puzzled. “There must be something going around. They brought Rose down from ICU, and Alpert collapsed a few minutes ago.”
Monica’s expression shattered and her mouth fell open slightly. “What?” she gasped softly then immediately tensed and attempted to mask her concern. “We all hang out together. That can’t be a coincidence.”
Patty appeared sympathetic as if she knew more than she led on. “Take him into room four. Dr. Sharp is on call, but for some reason he’s not answering his pages.”
Monica helped Evan through the double doors, down the hall to the end, and into exam room number four. She helped Evan onto the examination table. Despite sweating profusely, he remained cold. He immediately lay down with exhaustion. Monica found a blanket in a cupboard and covered him to help keep him warm. Evan caught her arm, surprising her. She looked into his eyes.
“You don’t have to stay, Monica,” he said softly. “If you want to check on--”
“I’m not leaving you until the doctor sees you, Evan,” she stated firmly. “Stop being so stubborn.”
“Maybe you should check on Rose for me and see if she’s okay,” he said gently then hesitated. “And, you know, Alpert, if you feel like it.”
“I’ll ask Dr. Sharp about their condition when he gets here,” she informed him sternly. “Besides, you know Rose. She’s probably telling Dr. Sharp what’s wrong with her and what meds to prescribe.” Monica snorted a laugh. “She’s going to make a god-awful patient.”
“Most nurses do,” he softly teased.
Both heard Patty’s page for Dr. Sharp over the intercom. Monica appeared puzzled then looked back at Evan while shaking her head.
“He’s not exactly punctual, that one,” she remarked. “If I’m ever sick, don’t let him touch me. Something about him makes my skin crawl.”
“You’re not the first woman to say that,” Evan replied softly while shivering beneath the blanket. “Rose can’t stand him. She says it’s his beady eyes.”
“I don’t know how she stands you,” Monica snorted softly with a teasing smile at her partner. “You do realize that she’s way out of your league.”
Evan managed to chuckle softly. Monica looked at the open door and watched for the doctor. Her concern and hostility seemed to increase with each passing minute.
Chapter Seventeen
The hospital’s incinerator room was located in the basement at the opposite end of the building from the morgue. Lexx sifted through a pile of ashes in the massive incinerator with a special rake designed for such a task. Hill casually leaned against the wall and watched her work with a strange look on his face. She knew he was watching her, but she refused to acknowledge the attention. She knew that look, and it wasn’t lust. It was that same look she’d seen on the faces of many men before. In their minds, she was some sort of science experiment gone astray. She hated that look. How could her Uncle Brandon not understand why she didn’t date? He had to know what she dealt with every time she met a man with whom she was mildly interested. She often wondered if that was the same reason why he never married. Her thoughts were suddenly interrupted by Hill’s thoughts spoken aloud.
“I don’t get it,” Hill said casually as he straightened while staring at her.
Lexx kept her attention focused on the piles of ashes. She was very aware that his comment wasn’t about the task at hand, but she played dumb anyway.
“Get what?”
“Why would a young woman with so many options choose to be a mortician?” he finally asked the question she knew he’d been thinking the entire time.
Lexx glanced at him, appeared humored, and returned to sifting through the ashes. She had to admit; at least he asked it more tactfully then others had in the past. For a country cop, he wasn’t as ignorant as most would think.
“Options?” she asked slyly. “Is that code for someone who’s not hideously unappealing?”
He suddenly became uncomfortable and shifted awkwardly by her bluntness. “It just seems to me that your profession would hinder your social life.”
Now he was just putting his foot in his mouth for her amusement. She couldn’t resist teasing him, especially when he was obviously so uncomfortable with the topic he chose. Why did men like him make it so easy to torture them?
“Oh, you mean scare away shallow men who only see me as a sex object?” she asked then chuckled. “That’s one of the few perks of my profession, Sheriff Burke.”
He fidgeted from her comment. “I wasn’t aware that made me shallow.”
“I wasn’t aware we were talking about you,” she replied with some surprise.
“We weren’t,” Hill replied a little too quickly and continued to fidget.
She realized she’d embarrassed him, and, for once, it actually bothered her. She wasn’t even sure why it bothered her. Lexx returned to sifting through the incinerator and considered the topic. Maybe he did just want to have an honest conversation and not poke fun at her profession.
“The funeral home has been in my family for generations,” she announced as she worked. “My brother, Carson, was supposed to take the torch, but his fear of never getting laid was greater than his fear of corpses. So I dropped out of med school to get him off the hook and appease our parents.”
“You wanted to be a doctor?”
“I thought I did,” she replied.
“You shouldn’t have put aside your dreams just to please your parents,” he informed her. “Mine wanted me to be an Air Force fighter pilot.” He considered his own admission and frowned. “I guess Monica was the son they’d always wanted.”
“I’m sure your parents are proud of you too, after all, you’re the sheriff.”
“Honestly,” he announced with a sigh, “at this point, all they want from me are grandkids. It’s nice to know they think I’m good for something.”
“God, they sound like my uncle,” she remarked under her breath.
He continued to watch her half inside the incinerator. “So why don’t you go back to med school and become a doctor?” he asked. “If it’s what you want--”
“Don’t be too shocked, Sheriff Burke. I actually like being a mortician.” She grinned slyly and cast a devious look at him alongside her. “Freaking out former jocks like you is its own entertainment.”
Lexx finally turned away from the incinerator and removed her gloves. “No human leftovers in there, although I did find quite a few rat bones.”
“Rat bones?” he asked and grimaced.
“Yeah, it happens.”
“That’s nice,” Hill muttered. Despite being sickened by the thought of charbroiled rats, Hill became defensive. “As much as I hate to deprive you the joy of mocking me, I wasn’t a jock in school,” he announced firmly. “I was the geeky kid who got picked on because his sister was cool and he wasn’t.”
“I lived in a funeral home,” she announced while leaning her shoulder against the incinerator. “I was labeled creepy since I was five.”
Hill offered a humored smile and chuckled softly. “You are creepy--”
Lexx shut the incinerator door with a little added vigor then glared at him. “Just for that, I’m not searching the morgue freezers for you.” She walked past him for the door with her head held proudly.
Hill bolted after her and pushed the door closed while standing behind her, preventing her from
leaving. She turned to face him with an annoyed glare. He placed his hands on the door on either side of her, stood uncomfortably close, and looked into her eyes. She wasn’t sure she wanted him that close to her. Men, in her opinion, were odd creatures that couldn’t be predicted. As she stared into his eyes, she hadn’t realized they were that shade of blue. Almost ice blue. If she hadn’t noticed how handsome he was before, she certainly noticed now.
“I meant that in a sexy, queen of the undead sort of way,” he said in a voice that was beyond sexy.
His comment coupled with his closeness made her heart skip a beat and her pulse race slightly. She was suddenly reminded of how long it had been since she’d been in a man’s arms. Rolan playfully hugging her didn’t exactly count. For a brief moment, she wished he’d kiss her. A slightly dirtier scenario crossed her mind as well, but as always, that feeling passed quickly. She knew how charming men like Sheriff Burke operated. They only wanted one thing. Although it was a fine image to entertain, she wasn’t playing along--not today.
“Fine, you don’t have to touch the bodies in the morgue,” she scoffed and reluctantly gave in to his blue eyes. “You’re almost as big a baby as Carson.”
Lexx easily pushed him back, opened the door, and left the incinerator room. Hill groaned softly while watching her leave, ran his fingers through his hair, and then hurried after her.
Chapter Eighteen
Carson and Rolan leaned over the kitchen island counter with glasses of whiskey in their still trembling hands and the half-empty bottle between them. They’d put a serious dent in the ‘just in case of emergency’ bottle of whiskey Lexx had bought earlier that afternoon. Both men drank vigorously and in silence for nearly thirty minutes before either could speak about what had just happened. They were sedate and quite possibly drunk in a relatively short period of time.
“So what the hell are we supposed to do?” Rolan finally asked while glaring at Carson.
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