‘I think he’s going to ask me to inflict some trauma on them and gauge their response. There’ll be a post-mortem afterwards. I imagine you’ll be invited for that?’ I said, hoping to cheer him up.
‘Ah, good. I’d hate to think he wasn’t making use of all this hospital has to offer, especially if he’s running a pan investigram. There are a lot of experts here, but he’s very reluctant to make use of them. Did you know Carter from the research department was refused entry to the quarantine ward? All she wanted was a blood sample.’
‘These CDC types are having to play everything close to the chest, with the public eye on us.’ I nodded.
‘And more’s the shame.’ Grey shook his head. ‘I understand their concerns of course,’ he said in a way that made me doubt it, ‘but think of what we could have achieved already if we didn’t have to go tiptoeing around the issues.’
‘People scare easily,’ I nodded along, ‘but honestly - you tell someone that the infected are really walking corpses and you can’t expect them to react the same as you and I.’
‘I suppose…’ Grey shrugged. ‘We see all that with fascination, meet it with curiosity. A medical mystery to be unravelled…’
‘They see it as a nightmare. I can’t blame them.’ I added, because frankly, it was. ‘Anyway. What happened to your assistant, the one who was bitten?’
I’d told Kelly about this one. Bent my oath of secrecy a little. We weren’t quite as well informed about the virus a few days ago, but we knew enough – already had a couple restrained in a secure little corner of the psych ward. The assistant coroner had just gotten a little too curious, a little too close – and the infected bit into his wrist. Security had to hold the assistant down while Dr Grey performed the emergency amputation. No anaesthetic.
‘Oh, truly, horrifying. The worst moment of my life. I’m sure it was no better for him, of course, poor Ryan. It seems the amputation was successful in preventing him from becoming infected, but the man’s not taking it well, mentally.’
‘He lost an arm.’ I reminded the coroner.
‘But kept his life. You’d think he’d be happier about it.’
I was beginning to understand why Dr Grey worked with corpses. Fortunately, rose cottage wasn’t too far from the A&E – read into that what you must – so we said our goodbyes and I carried on my way, through the much quieter halls of the basement.
My phone had no signal down here, typically. I stared at the screen a second anyway, hoping to pick up a signal sweet-spot and sent a text to Kelly, or risk a phone call. Nobody was around to see me, and I think taking a personal call at a time like this would to totally understandable even if they did.
But alas, no phone signal could penetrate the bomb-proof concrete of this post-war hospital. I’d need some big old timey radio setup, and an operator guy with a headset and really serious eyebrows. I smirked to myself and put the phone away, but missed the distraction almost immediately.
It really was quiet down here.
A shiver ran down my spine, just paranoia maybe, but there should have been other people around. I was passing from the morgue to radiology, a corridor through one of the storage areas. Everything was still brightly lit, but the only sound came from the squeaking of the gurney’s wheels and my trainers on the linoleum.
There was an intersection up ahead, where the signs pointed for maintenance on the right, radiology ahead, and another staff-only swipe door went left to more equipment storage. I began to slow my steps as the intersection drew closer, finally noticing what was ahead, but struggling to make sense of it. When I did, I wished I hadn’t.
My breath caught in my throat, and I had what’s known in the business as an “oh no second”, the moment when you realise something has gone horribly wrong and the mantle of dread settles around your shoulders.
Someone was slumped against the wall – and they were covered in blood. It was a Sydow Security mercenary, the grey and black uniform slick and red around the collar. Their throat had been slit, but it was rough, like a great big claw rather than a sharp knife. I cringed away, almost tasting the blood in my mouth.
I abandoned the gurney and ran straight back down the corridor for Dr Grey, trainers squealing, body flushing white with panic.
‘Doctor Grey!’ I shouted, bursting through his double doors.
The morgue was a brightly lit room with white tiled walls and a smooth white floor, so every speck of dirt and drop of blood could be easily identified and thoroughly cleaned. Two examination tables lay empty on the left, with drawers along the back wall and a door to Grey’s offices on the right.
‘Grey!’ I repeated, my voice echoing off the tiles.
‘What, what is it?’ Dr Grey asked, opening his door with an expression of half irritation, half surprise.
‘There’s a body in the hall, someone’s been killed!’
‘W-what?’ he stammered. In any other institution, perhaps that news would have been met with disbelief. Someone just pulling a prank. Not here, not today. Grey was already making for the doors, ‘Come on then, lead the way!’
We ran down the corridor, barrelling through a set of swinging doors and entering the stretch where I’d found the body and left my gurney. Only…
There was no body.
‘Oh fuck….’ I breathed.
The gurney was empty too.
‘What’s going on?’ Grey asked, the barest hint of suspicion in his voice.
I slowly walked over to the gurney, the bedsheet thrown back and discarded on the floor. The restraints had been untied. Not cut, or torn, or slipped free. Someone had unbuckled the infected.
‘Someone freed it.’ I said quietly, turning to Grey, not wanting to be overheard.
Grey came closer, his eyes darting to every doorway. ‘Where was the body?’ he asked.
I pointed to the patch of wall where I’d seen the dead soldier with his slit throat. There hadn’t been a pool of blood earlier. I should have seen that. There was no way that soldier was killed here, just traces of red. Did someone dump the body there?
‘Blood…’ Grey said, kneeling down, ‘smeared here, on the wall and the floor.’
‘At least I’m not going mad. So there was a body? Definitely?’ I asked.
‘Just a moment ago.’ Grey said, backing up.
‘I’m going to call the desk. We need to get someone down here, a cop, a soldier…’ I said.
We were both backing up the way we’d come, keeping wary eyes on the intersection. There was a disappearing corpse and a loose infected down here in the basement. Down here with us.
When we reached the swinging doors, we broke back out into a run. Grey made it to the morgue first, and was waiting to close the doors behind me, twisting a lock once I was safely inside. I made for the phone on the wall beside one of the examination tables, and pressed the button for the front desk.
‘What’s taking so long?’ Grey asked after about three seconds.
If Jerry were there, he’d have answered, and I’d probably have had to decipher his responses because he’d have another phone to his other ear. I waited a little longer, but I didn’t have much hope. They were busy up there.
‘Got anything in here we can use to defend ourselves with?’ I asked Dr Grey, trying to keep him occupied.
‘What?’ he shot back.
‘A weapon, Dr Grey. Do you have anything in here we can use as a weapon against an infected?’
Grey’s eyes ran over the drawers and cabinets that surely contained his medical equipment, a heady variety of bonesaws, rib spreaders, scalpels and tongs. None of it particularly useful if we had to knock an infected on their ass. Sure, there were a dozen ways we could actually take them to pieces, if only they were kind enough to hold still for a few seconds.
He ran through his inventory, looked at me, and shook his head.
‘Shit, nobody’s picking up.’ I said, giving up on the phone. ‘I’m going to go get help.’
‘What?’ he asked again
. Useless! I was beginning to think that was all he could say.
‘I’ll find someone and get them down here,’ I told him, heading over to look in his office. I found what I needed, and emerged a moment later with a small fire extinguisher, about the size of a two litre soda bottle.
‘Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be right back.’ I said, unlocking the door, and opening it a crack, cradling the extinguisher in one arm. The corridor looked clear.
When the door closed and locked behind me, I felt my sudden crisis-confidence ebbing away. The corridor was deserted, still silent, but it no longer felt like the silence of an empty hallway. Imagination or not, I knew one of them was down here with me.
The elevator seemed to take forever to arrive, but I rode it back up to the A&E in safety. It wasn’t quite a normal day up there yet, but it was still getting quieter, my colleagues dealing with the wounded security forces and kicking out the troublemakers again once they’d been seen to. I spotted Emile leaning on the nurse’s station, overlooking the triage area.
‘Officer Asturias!’ I called out.
He turned, looking a lot better than he had earlier, more alert. Maybe he was right about the salad, or maybe he’d popped some soluble caffeine tabs in a pot of coffee.
‘What is wrong? Is there a fire?’ he asked.
‘I’ll tell you on the way, don’t want to cause a panic,’ I said, feeling a little silly holding the extinguisher. I looked around, not wanting to be overheard, ‘come on.’
He shrugged, but leaned over the nurse’s station before coming after me, pulling up a shotgun.
‘I brought it from the car just before you came. Keeping it hidden, like you say, not to panic anyone,’ he said, ‘the department is getting quieter and I do not want anyone left over from the brawling to see that as an excuse to cause trouble.’
‘Good thinking. You might actually need it.’ I muttered as he fell into step towards the elevator.
As the doors began to slide shut, I brought him up to speed. The body in the corridor. Fetching Grey. The soldier and my gurney patient, missing. Emile nodded along, and slid the shotgun strap over his shoulder.
‘How’s the head?’ I asked.
‘Throbbing, but I’ll live. Just need to call this in,’ he added, reaching for the radio on his belt. ‘Alpha One, this is Echo Two Four. Attending incident in basement, over.’
‘Echo Two Four, received. Nothing more, over.’ Replied the voice from the handset.
‘Alpha One, thank you. Out.’
Back in the basement, we knocked for Dr Grey. The morgue didn’t have windowed doors, for obvious reasons, so his voice filtered through a moment later.
‘Who is it?’
The infected wouldn’t knock, but I resisted the urge to be glib.
‘Nurse Cox. I brought the police.’
‘Open up Dr Grey, you’re safe now.’ Emile added.
Grey opened the doors, shoulders sagging with relief.
‘Alright, now show me where you found the blood.’ Emile said, tilting his head towards the corridor.
That’s when all the lights went out.
Eight
The basement hallways were suddenly plunged into pitch darkness. I swore, Grey swore, and there was a burst of Rojasin from Officer Asturias which was emphatic swearing.
A moment later, Emile’s under-barrel flashlight flicked on, cutting through the dark in a broad white beam. I could still barely make out the man himself, just a dark silhouette as he passed a heavy-duty police flashlight to Grey.
‘Got a spare weapon for me?’ I asked.
‘Sure, nothing bad could come of giving a scared civilian a gun in the dark.’
‘I am not scared!’ I hissed, eyes darting up and down the corridor. ‘Can I at least have a light?’
‘How many torches do you think I carry?’ Emile shot back, his voice terse. ‘Besides. You already have a weapon. Stick behind me, keep a hold on your fire-thing. Doctor Grey, light forward please. You are blinding me.’
‘Sorry…’ Grey said, pointing his light back down the corridor.
‘Alpha One from Echo Two Four. Confirm power outage? Over.’ Emile asked, presumably talking into a radio. All I heard back was static, followed by a little more Rojasin cursing. ‘Signal down here is weak.’ He said after.
‘Tell me about it.’ Grey and I said in unison.
Emile began to walk forward, just a shape behind a light, the beam holding steady as he rolled every step into the next, using that special way of walking they must teach at the firing range.
Dr Grey was just a pace or two behind him, off to the right. I kept the same distance back from Grey, holding the “fire-thing” up to my shoulder. Down here in the dark, it felt an even clumsier weapon than it had a moment ago.
‘Should we be pressing on like this?’ I asked them, keeping my voice low. ‘Again, I’m not scared, just thinking practicality.’
Well, a bit of both really. My heart was still beating a mile a minute and there was a definite clamminess to my hands, but I put that down to the cold metal of the extinguisher.
‘I doubt that the elevator will function, if this is a general power outage. I already had that thought.’ Grey whispered. ‘No emergency lights either. There should be strips in the ceiling too, on a separate circuit, help you find your way out in case of things like this.’
‘How do you know so much about the lighting?’ I asked him.
‘Working down here, they want you to know what to do in case of power outage. It’d be terrible, getting stuck down here, feeling your way in the dark.’
With the darkness pressing from all sides, I agreed. It felt like there were miles of concrete above our heads, rather than just being one floor below ground. Together with the squeaking of our footsteps and our deliberately cautious breathing, our walk to the intersection where I’d seen the body was agonisingly slow.
As we went further into the darkness, a low rumbling sound began to grow louder. Sounded like it was coming from above us.
‘Earthquake? That could explain the loss of power?’ Grey asked, his voice low, and almost intimately close.
‘No. Footsteps.’ Emile said, pointing his light toward the ceiling, as if to illuminate the people above. ‘That’ll be us, police, soldiers and doctors, rushing about. People are frightened.’
Grey shone his light up there too. ‘I know the feeling…’
‘Face forwards guys,’ I told them, ‘we’ll see if we can help after we’ve dealt with this. If the lights are out, the last thing people need is an infected creeping up on them.’
‘Si. But will we creep up on one first?’
I tried to pretend that wasn’t another shiver down my spine.
We walked on, in the dark and quiet, until our lights light set upon the fallen gurney. Emile scanned the intersection from the perceived safety of our little huddle, only edging closer once he’d seen no present dangers.
‘I had an infected muzzled on that gurney, there was no way it could untie itself.’ I told him, pitching my voice as quiet as possible and still be heard. ‘And there was a dead soldier, right where those bloody smears are. Someone had to put that body there, it wasn’t where he was killed. Not enough blood.’
‘No way your infected could have moved the body?’ Emile asked, his voice just as low.
‘They don’t drag off their victims. Not that we know, anyway.’ I added, thinking of aberrations. Maybe some of them did?
‘That means there must be another living person down here, someone besides the infected, and your dead soldier.’ Grey said.
‘A moment…I think I hear something…’ Emile said, straightening himself up and taking a few more confident steps towards the intersection, shotgun raised. He cleared his throat as he drew within a few yards.
‘Police! Come out now, show yourself!’
‘Like that’ll wo-,’ I started to say, but was cut off.
The infected threw itself from around the corner, closing the dist
ance with Emile in a couple of steps. He barely had a moment to defend himself, but the infected are easily excited. It growled, a low, animal noise as it struck out, reaching for Emile’s neck.
That moment’s notice was enough. Emile hunched his shoulders and thrust his weight forward, meeting the infected’s lunge with a tackle just below the ribs, sending it back into the wall, where it struck the corner, stumbled, and fell.
Grey’s light had been trained on Emile, and just at the edge of the beam I caught a flash of movement from the right side corridor. In the brief glimpse I caught, it looked like the retreating back of someone in a hood or headscarf.
‘Emile, your right!’ I called out, trying to warn him.
‘About what?’ he shot back, looking at me instead, confused.
Grey and I both shouted to look to the right, but the chance was gone, lost to the language barrier, and whoever ran down the corridor had a head start on us.
‘Come on! They’re getting away!’ I shouted, feeling the urge to chase, perhaps just because someone was running.
Pressed into making a snap decision, Emile fired his shotgun at the floored infected. I couldn’t see what happened, but in the confines of the basement, the blast was so loud I could feel it in my chest.
It was the first time anyone had fired a gun near me, and while part of me wanted to stop and think about the fragility of life, the other part of me had been working with Dr Lines all day. I was clinically detached – these things weren’t people.
I kept my feet moving.
Before the echoes had died down, Emile was leading our foot pursuit further down the corridor, the erratic waving of his torch showing the way, flashing between walls, floor and ceiling, our beating footsteps joining with those panicked people above us.
But Emile’s light didn’t show anything else – no running figures, no slouching corpses. We caught up with him as he slowed his pace, clearly giving up as we reached the doors to radiology. They’d already closed, and as I pushed up against them, I felt something had barred them shut, slid through the door handles most likely.
The Suburban Dead (Book 2): Emergency Page 7