Zombie Waltz (Book 1)
Page 15
“So where is he? Where’s Nick?” I say, looking at Kim standing as a statue next to the smiling boys. She shakes her head again, and I think she is going to start crying. She looks down and grimaces at the ground and looks back up, scowling at me. “What?” I say defensively.
“What happened to Levi? Did you shoot him? Why would you do that?” She asks with a heartbroken look on her face.
“Look, I know you don’t have a reason to believe me. I’ve never even fired a gun before. I’ve only held them a couple times in my life. Levi was trying to help us get out. It was Mr. Petrova or one of the others that shot him. I don’t know. I promise you it wasn’t me.” She nods her head appreciatively with her eyes squeezed tight, trying to smile and cry at the same time.
“I knew he was lying. Nick does too. Don’t be mad at Nick for the other night. He just wants to protect us. That’s the only reason he threatened you. Nick is a good person.”
“So where do we go from here?” I say, turning between Kim and Faith.
“You need a tetanus shot, and we both probably need to start a penicillin regimen before we get Staph from staying in that dumpster all night.” Faith offers.
“Mr. Petrova left. He could be back any time though.” Kim replies. “We need to go now!” Kim moves to the fence, which is actually an alley gate. The car is sitting there facing us.
Kim goes to the pole and lifts the gate latch, and the two little boys push the gate wide open. It just narrowly misses the front bumper of the Cadillac before it crashes loudly against the wall. Kim runs through and waits by the rear driver's side door of the car. I grab the green suitcase and walk through the wide flung gate. I only stop momentarily to look at the top of the fence where there are spirals of razor wire. I see a brown patch along the shiny wire; that’s where I cut my hand. I look down at the mean stitched wound that crosses it and then at the gate and can’t help but chuckle.
Mr. Petrova stands there with his gun waving in the air as if saying hello. Patrick moves in quickly behind him but is further away. “Hi, Dead Boy” he shouts, “We were hoping to see you again.” He says, smiling ruthlessly, his former calm demeanor a ghost in my memory. His eyes are cruel now. His smile is twisted and his face totally different.
I press the unlock button on Levi’s key fob and walk towards the Cadillac. Faith helps the little boys into the car as soon as it’s unlocked while Kim runs around to the other side. I get to the driver’s door and Faith’s already in the passenger seat with her seat belt fastened. She instructs the children in the back to hold on and keep their heads down. I pass the green suitcase over the front seat, jump in, fasten my seatbelt, and turn the key in the ignition.
The Cadillac roars to life. It smells of warm leather, very clean. I pull the vehicle into overdrive and romp on the gas pedal, speeding towards the men blocking the alleyway. I press the gas pedal to the floor and the tachometer jumps to 4. I don’t want to hit Mr. Petrova but I will not stop for him. Faith rolls down her window and leans out pointing the shotgun across the hood of the car. She doesn't fire though.
In the time it takes us to traverse the alley, Mr. Petrova doesn't move…doesn’t even flinch…not even a little. He just stares right at me with that wicked grin. When we reach him we are doing 40 mph. He dives to the right as the car hops onto the curb. A moment later, we zoom into the street. I have to hit the brakes as we veer south, and then I gun it and we are quickly putting distance between us and the mortuary. I see Kim in the rearview, turned around looking out the back glass of the car.
I round the corner and start towards Tamiami. Only a few blocks away, Kim starts to cry. “I’m sorry we couldn’t wait…”
“For Nick.” She finishes for me. “I know…”
Faith looks over her shoulder at Kim and puts her hand on my leg. I don’t know if it is on purpose or not. I turn south on Tamiami and take a quick glance at it. Her thumb has a smiley face bandage on it. It makes my heart ache.
“How did you even know where to look for us?” Faith asks, turning back to Kim with her lips pressed together.
“I wasn’t looking for you. I was stealing Levi’s car. He told me about a spare key.”
“Good timing.” I say. I lock eyes with her through the rearview. Her face is forlorn. “Don’t worry. Nick will find us.” I say, but I don’t believe it…maybe no one else does either because the car is silent.
We drive down Tamiami with plenty of gas. The street is thankfully clear. The buildings we are passing are empty and dark. This is the upper class part of Sarasota. Anyone living here is huddled in overstocked bomb shelters and safe rooms inside their condos and mansions. I cross Bayshore and start to drive past Sarasota Memorial Hospital.
Faith jumps forward in her seat like she suddenly remembered she left the oven on and says, “Wait!” She looks long and hard at the hospital as I slow to a halt in the middle of the bare and pristine boulevard. I look up at the menacing structure of glass and steel.
I mumble, “We can’t go in there…”
Chapter 6: Sarasota Memorial Heartache Bled dry
“Wait for what? We can’t go in there. Look at that place.” I say , grimacing at the oversized shopping mall looking entrance to the hospital. There are two streaks of blood; wide lines that look like they were wiped with a fantastically large mop coming out into the driveway from under the awning.
“I need to get medicine. I have to go in there…I have to.” Faith says.
“We can get medicine somewhere else. A clinic maybe or another vet’s…” I start, but she cuts me off.
“No, we have to try. It doesn’t look overrun. It looks empty. We should try.” She reminds me of Mr. Petrova in her sudden forcefulness. Faith and Mr. Petrova aren’t categorically so different. They are both smart and work well under pressure; both hell bent on survival, and Mr. Petrova will kill to survive. So would Faith, I guess…would I?
“I feel fine. You look perfect. Admittedly dirty, but healthy. I feel better than I have in my entire life. Really I do. Let’s just go get cleaned up somewhere. We can relax on the beach. Maybe find a nice abandoned hotel.” As I speak, I look up at the tall building and my blood turns cold. My shoulders droop. I don’t want to go in there. I’m certain we won’t all come back out.
“Les, this medicine is important. We slept in a dumpster. We have been splattered over and over with blood…what is probably very contaminated blood. We have cuts. You have serious injuries and need proper evaluation and treatment.” She doesn’t mean to be curt with me. She’s just frustrated, tired, and scared. That’s what I’m telling myself anyway.
I stare at the building a little longer. There is a big sign at the front of the drive that says: Sarasota Memorial Hospital Emergency Entrance, in big red letters. My guts lurch like there’s something rotten churning within me. Either that or I’m really hungry. “Okay Faith. If it’s important to you then let’s try it.” I say, looking back at her face for a moment. I then turn my sights back to the ominous building again. It looks vacant…bled dry.
Ready or Not
I pull the car into the drive slowly and park about ten feet back from the awning. We stop right over the top of one of the big red streaks across the blacktop. We all pile out; I look back at the boys and Kim huddling close behind Faith. She tells them, “Don’t let go of each other or me.” She clutches her shotgun in both hands holding it out in front of her. Kim squeezes the fabric of her dress with one hand and holds one of the boy’s hands, who holds the other’s. I start to pull the suitcase out of the floorboard but stop and push it back in. I turn back to them, slamming the car door shut. I hit the lock button on the key fob and shove Levi’s keys in my pocket.
“Ready?” I ask.
/>
Faith nods. The little boys giggle. Kim just stares vacantly across the parking lot.
I lead the way and we slowly edge under the darkened awning. The air here smells like meat gone rancid. As we approach the blood smeared electronic sliding doors of the ER, Kim starts screaming like a banshee. I turn just in time to see three zombies come out from the shadowy corner of the awning rushing at us.
One of them -a former police officer- is missing most of the flesh off of his right hip and has no forearms at all. The other two are women; they are wearing brightly patterned scrubs. One of them looks normal enough I guess, except the deathly pale complexion and the dark smear of blood painted around her mouth. She was a small woman with long dark curly hair. The other woman doesn’t have much left above her shoulders that is recognizable.
I grab the cop as he darts past me and jump on his back to slow him. He is much larger than me though, and I can’t quite stop him. I pull back on his shoulders trying to throw him off balance, then swing my body the other way and fall forward over him. I grab his head as soon as we land and start slamming it into the concrete, splattering his blood everywhere.
I look up when he quits writhing beneath me in time to see the barrel of Faith’s shotgun and can barely turn my head away to shield my eyes from the blast. The large nurse bursts nearly in half not two feet from me.
In the middle of all of this insanity, my mind decides to devise a fantasy where a zombie jumps out at just the right position so that Faith turns and shoots straight through me by accident. My body fortunately moves mostly on instinct and fear; it doesn’t really matter what I think about while I fight. I jump up and throw myself at the skinny burnt up nurse.
I hit the nurse and knock her back. Then I round on her. I get right up behind her and grab the disgustingly sticky woman around the neck, putting her in a head lock. I shake her like a Rottweiler pup playing with his favorite teething chew. She fights, violently jerking against me. There’s a ripping sound and in one smooth motion her head pops off with a loud crunch and I throw it shaking my arms. We watch as it rolls down the sloped drive past the caddy and all the way into the street. Her body falls in front of me like a sack of potatoes and then forward, spilling black ooze out of her neck.
The place is quiet again. I look out the other side of the awning into the big parking lot. I don’t seeing any movement I relax. Kim tilts her head to the side a bit and then gives me a weak bemused smile, “I’m sorry…Dead Boy…thank you…I’ll try not to scream.”
“It’s okay. I know it’s scary…you’re all scared. I’m scared too.” I offer her a gore spattered hand and she takes it. I hoist her up easily and to my surprise she grabs me around my neck. She hugs me tight. When she lets go, she folds her hands in front of her waist, wistfully staring into my eyes. I’m a little unnerved by the way she stands there beaming at me afterward. So I turn away and busy myself to avoid lingering by her.
I walk over to the woman that looks almost living; despite missing the lower half of her abdomen, lungs, rib cage, and all her guts. I lean over her closely and push back long curls of matted bloody hair from her neck. On her shoulder lies a gross black bite wound.
Automatic Doors
While I’ m still inspecting the corpse, Faith walks to the entrance. Kim and the boys follow close behind her. She stands in front of the doors for a few seconds. With her shotgun barrel, she taps against the glass. I walk up beside her and look over, “You didn’t really think they were going to open did you?”
“They should’ve opened. E ven if the city loses power, the generators will run the hospital for weeks.” She looks up and down the door frames a moment and then walks over to the round metal button with the blue handicapped symbol embedded in it and pushes. The automatic doors burst to life and slide halfway open before losing power again. The smell wafting out of that place makes me want to open a bar serving only that stuff Faith made me drink in the dumpster. She smirks wickedly and says, “The sensors must be disabled with the main power out.”
“Are you really sure about this?” I ask. With her affirming nod, I walk into the gloomy lobby. Every third or so fluorescent light is flickering and ghost-light strobes across the room. I turn back to the doors just after the kids come through. Deciding suddenly that we need to be able to go out through them any time we choose, I rush back outside.
Looking around, I find a broken sign. I pick it up and carry it back to the sliding doors. I wedge it in between them, climb over and turn to admire my handy work. After I’m satisfied I’ve done all I can to ensure rapid egress, I turn around and all four of them are staring at me. “Alright, let’s do this.” I say. I resume my position in the lead and we walk further into the lobby. It’s large with a high ceiling.
All the furniture here has either been ripped apart, burnt to a crisp, or is covered in blood. Bullet casings litter the floor over smears that look like drag marks. Blood spatter covers the walls. Some blood even managed to get splashed 30 feet in the air to hit the ceiling. I can see the dots of it spackling the light fixtures. There is a spiral staircase that leads to the second and third floor on the far left of the room. Across the back of the room are exposed balconies of the second and third floor. They look very dark from here. Between the staircase and us are the elevator bank and some restrooms down a short hall, just past what is left of the main reception desk.
I point at the stairs. Faith nods. I take a deep breath of the rancid smelling air and put my hand up to my face with my index finger over my mouth and make a quiet Shhh sound at the boys. I give them what I hope is a reassuring smile. We start up the stairs in single file.
I lead, with the boys behind me and Kim directly at their backs. Faith goes last with her shot gun pointed down the stairs behind us. Blood drenches the stairs. In places, it has pooled and is so sticky it’s hard to walk through. I try to use the banister to keep from slipping. The blood on it’s almost dry, but my hand occasionally runs along something that feels thick and gelatinous -like I could imagine brains or guts feeling- so I keep pulling it away.
We reach the landing at the second floor and see a big set of double doors with small porthole windows down the hall. I can hear noises through the doors. I slowly start towards them.
“Operating rooms” Faith says from behind me. I can hear her footsteps following me to the portholes. I look through the right one. The left is covered in blood. Faith joins me and presses her cheek to mine. It’s another wide hallway and on either side of it and down at the end are more double doors. Some of the fluorescents are out but some still work so we can see sections of the hall clearly. It’s no mystery where the noise is coming from. The hall has been torn apart. Parts of the walls are missing. Some of the doors are ripped off their hinges. There’s blood everywhere.
Several zombies sit hunched right in the middle of the hall over the corpse of what looked to be an elderly man. The man has been dead for days. The zombies are eating him. Taking their time, they chew away. One on an arm and one with her head in his belly and a third on a leg and so on. I can see others further down the hall; corpses with zombies laying over them. I haven’t seen too many corpses since this started, not nearly as many as I would have thought. Now I know why. They don’t just bite and move on. They are eating us…consuming us…completely.
I shudder. Faith gulps and rocks her head side to side slowly, moisture glistening in her eyes. She points back to the stairwell and holds up three fingers. We creep back to the kids and continue climbing. When we get to the third floor landing I’m braced for a scene of devastation like we saw on the first and second floors.
The third floor is maternity. It’s hard to take in. An obvious sense of disorder lies here but it is empty. No blood, no corpses, no zombies.
The nurses’ desk has been uprooted and the filing cabinets and fax machine stands and water coolers have all been knocked over…otherwise it looks untouched. The room with all of the little cribs for the newborn babies is just past the nurse
s’ desk behind a glass wall. It looks as if the babies were stolen by a swarm of gypsies. All of the little cribs are knocked over, but again the scene totally lacks the coating of brown and black that was once red.
It should be a relief that there is no gore here, I don’t even know if I could take that, but seeing the place left empty brings to mind what terrible fate awaited those babies that were cursed by being born that day. I think it would be better to see the bodies. Faith’s more affected by the state of this floor than me. She walks to the center of the room and stares down at the nurses’ desk.
Locker Room
Faith stands at the turned over nurses’ station , stroking the side of the desk absentmindedly. She looks up and all of us are staring at her, and then she starts to cry. She walks over and sits next to the wall by the elevator doors and sobs into her hands.
I crouch in front of her, gently lean my head up against hers and whisper, “It’s going to be okay, but we need to keep moving.” She looks up at me sharply. Her pretty face is drawn tight and she scowls. I back off a step but don’t take my eyes off her. She nods slowly then bursts into tears again.
After she fights it off, we stand. I turn around and Kim and the twin boys are facing us, holding hands as silent tears stream down their faces. I hold my arms out and all three of them run to me and we engage in a long group hug. When they let go of their grips, the littlest boy holds onto my wrist for a moment.
He turns my right hand over and looks at the cut. It is red and angry looking with the little bits of black stitching in it. He traces down the cut and then looks me in the eyes and says, “I love you, Dead Boy.”
Trying to keep a hold on tears dancing in my own eyes, I wipe at them and ruffle the boy’s hair and then ask Faith, “Which way?” She points and I walk further into the maternity ward.
It’s creepier at the far end . Almost all of the lights have failed. Only one florescent tube is lit dimly and the corridor is dark as night, except directly under it. It flickers in a sickeningly fast rhythm.