The Suburban Dead (Book 2): Emergency

by Sorsby, T. A.

  Yanis looked up and his eyes creased again, smile hidden by his mask.

  ‘Correct me if I’m wrong, but aren’t fluids only retained in the stomach for half an hour or so?’ I asked him.

  ‘You’re not wrong. Of course, if bodily function stopped shortly after this man ingested the blood…it would remain.’

  ‘Could this blood be his? From the cause of death or some internal damage?’

  ‘It could be, though I’ve seen no evidence of such trauma so far, and I find it unlikely that he swallowed quite so much of his own blood as he was dying.’

  ‘Then how the hell did a pint of it end up in this guy’s stomach?’ I asked.

  Yanis looked up from the body and shook his head. ‘I have no idea. But we must get a sample of this blood run through the lab immediately. I want to know if it’s his. If not…then I fear we’ll have far more questions than we can answer.’

  We took fluid syringes and drained off a handful of samples from the stomach, potting them up and labelling them for examination. It was as we were labelling that I noticed something odd. Even more odd than everything else.

  ‘Yanis…this blood…shouldn’t it have begun to coagulate by now?’

  *

  I walked back to A&E with a heavy head. Not just because the bruise was setting in and every time I so much as changed expression, it hurt. I had too many questions, not enough answers, and no way of getting more answers unless I stayed with Yanis and his CDC team. When we left the operating theatre, he’d given me an invitation.

  ‘Come with us. I could use you on my team in Sydow…’

  ‘No, I came in to work because of an oath, something I take very seriously. Once the hospital’s gone, I have another commitment.’

  ‘What could be more important than the work we can do?’ he asked, incredulous. Like I was missing the opportunity of a lifetime. Which, in a way, I guess I was.

  ‘I already turned my back on the people I love once today. I can’t do it again.’

  Part of me thought about leaving then and there. My bike was outside, and while I knew I was tired, I wasn’t so far gone as to risk falling asleep at the handlebars. It’d been a tough day, but it wasn’t exactly late.

  I could grab my gear, ride home, talk to Laurel and Dani. Maybe pack myself a bag, head over to Kelly’s and be in bed with a couple beers by eleven. Oh man, that sounded like a good idea.

  It was pure fantasy however. If the evacuation was taking place in the morning, they’d need all hands on deck to make sure it went as smoothly as possible. If I was set on leaving, I could at least see things through to the end.

  When I arrived at the A&E, things were still quiet. I checked back in with the guy on the triage desk.

  ‘Any patients awaiting assignment?’

  The young orderly looked up at me and shook his head. ‘Nothing, pretty dead around here. The patients we’re keeping on the ward are being overseen, had no trouble from outside in a while. Be a good chance to get some shuteye if you can. We’ll be discharging everyone tomorrow and that’s going to be hectic as hell.’

  ‘Figured. Have the patients been notified?’

  He shook his head again. ‘Captain Hale says it’s all going to be taken care of.’

  I shrugged it off, making a mental note to kick that guy in the crotch if I ever got a chance. I moved the topic on. ‘Seen Jerry?’

  ‘Not since this afternoon. Maybe he’s been confined to the adminosphere?’

  ‘Maybe. You know what time the evacuation is starting?’ I said, stifling a yawn. His suggestion of sleep was getting to me now, damn it.

  ‘Nine sharp. All hands on deck.’ He added.

  I shuffled off down towards the hot bunks and let myself into room three. Emile had left the tiny light on above the tiny mirror, but was tucked up in the covers on the top bunk, curled away from the light.

  I quietly got ready for sleep, and shut the light off before slipping into bed. I’d put my engagement ring back on, a reminder of my priorities once the hospital was emptied.

  Beneath me, the mattress was firm and the sheets hadn’t seen fabric softener, but at least it was clean and gave me a good place to lie down and not-think. I tried my phone again, glowing screen the only light in the darkness, and tried to ignore how much that reminded me of those claustrophobic tunnels beneath the hospital.

  Still no signal. Something was wrong, out there in the city, and it took me a while to push it out of my mind. I set my alarm for half eight, and pretended I was at home in my own bed, with my relaxing lavender candles and Kelly’s hand around my waist.

  Twelve

  I was awoken by gunfire.

  Well, technically that’s not true. I was awoken by someone shaking my shoulder and hurriedly saying my name.

  ‘What, what?’ I grunted, disturbed from a deep, black sleep.

  ‘Something is happening. Get dressed.’

  That’s when I heard the gunfire. Distinct thumps and pops coming from somewhere in the hospital, echoing through the maze of corridors. It was like a splash of water to the face.

  I swung my legs out of bed and sat up quickly, nearly striking my head on the bed above.

  ‘What time is it?’ I asked my bunkmate.

  ‘Six thirty or so,’ Emile replied, his shadowed form moving about the room, over to the door.

  I slept in my underwear and a black t-shirt, long enough to cover the important bits. I’m no prude but it saves embarrassment for other people.

  ‘Any idea what’s going on?’ I asked Emile.

  ‘No, just hear shooting. Couple of shots at first, I did not think much of it. But it got worse, maybe happening for two minutes now. Could be protestors got in, became violent. Could be infected did.’ He added, rolling his shoulder.

  ‘You need to use the bathroom?’ I asked him, pulling on my scrub top and bottoms.

  The fact someone was doing some shooting somewhere didn’t mean much to me at that point. We were in a hospital full of armed professionals who were there to protect us from the infected undead and rowdy-ass protestors. Bullets actually flying meant something was making them work hard, but they were still working, and I had to pee.

  ‘No, you go.’ Emile waved, opening the door a crack.

  In the light that spilled into the room, I had a moment to take in that he also slept in his underwear, but without the modesty shirt. I noted that he also worked out. Lot of cardio. Good legs.

  I took care of my business and packed my toiletry stuff away, tossing it into the little bag. I’d be going back home today – I’d decided to swing by my place first to pack a few things, then head up to Kelly’s. There was a shop near his place where we could grab some supplies if it was still open, and if it came to the worst, it’d be easier to barricade ourselves in a tower block than a semi-detached.

  I’d try again to convince Laurel and Dani to come, safety in numbers. If Greenfield was going to fall, I’d rather sit through the aftermath and wait for rescue with the whole bunch of them. It’d be difficult getting them both there, have to take one at a time on the back of my bike, but I could do it.

  It was a hell of a thing to think about, this infection getting out of control. I knew it’d be bad, but I was having a hard time wrapping my head around it actually happening – the soldiers pulling out, letting people fend for themselves, the infected going about unchecked. But I knew what I was doing. I could keep the three of us safe, plus Kelly’s neighbours, Morgan and her father. If anyone else was left in the building, I’d help them too. Pool together, hoard supplies, and wait for the government to get its act together again.

  Another chittering burst of gunfire erupted from somewhere, sounding tinny and distant as it was conveyed through the extractor fan in the ceiling.

  When I left the bathroom, the lights were on and Emile had gotten changed back into his uniform and was swapping the dressing on his head with the aid of the mirror. The poor guy had been expecting to go home, so hadn’t brought a change of
kit, I guess. Those dressings would be the only clean thing on him. I didn’t think he’d be my size, or I’d offer to lend him something.

  ‘See anything?’ I asked.

  ‘A soldier ran down the corridor, warning people. There are infected loose in the hospital, and I did not want to leave without you. Are you ready?’

  ‘Shit, no, I need to get dressed.’ I said, indicating the bike leathers on the wall.

  ‘Going somewhere?’

  ‘Don’t know if they told you last night, but Sydow Sec are pulling out. Abandoning ship. If there are infected loose now, their timetable’s going to have stepped up. My plan is simple. I’m going back to my friends, and my fiancé.’

  ‘There was talk of evacuation, but I was not sure it had been confirmed,’ Emile nodded, ‘I did not know what I was going to do. But…I think I will stay, in Greenfield.’

  Gunfire rang out again, closer this time, and I could hear vague shouts.

  ‘I’ll catch you up.’ I nodded, moving for my gear.

  Emile stepped out into the corridor, cautious as a cat, and shut the door behind him. I started suiting into my motorcycle gear, putting my helmet in the top of my bag to keep a hand free for the door.

  It’d only taken me a couple of minutes to zip myself in, but the gunfire had been growing closer in that time, and I was beginning to get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach.

  The fighting had been going on for a while now, minutes before I was awake, and who knows how long before Emile heard it? A few infected, the soldiers could deal with that quickly. Protestors with their own guns, maybe a little longer. What the hell was going on?

  I bumped into Emile as I left the bedroom. He’d come back for me.

  ‘We need to move, pronto.’ His jaw was set in a grim line and he was breathing quickly.

  ‘What’s happened?’ I asked, already falling into step behind him.

  He turned to me and met my eyes.

  ‘I ran into somebody – they told me the infected are out, all over the hospital. Muerto Compaña.’

  Oh.

  ‘Shit.’ I muttered, eyebrows raised, still processing.

  ‘Si.’

  I wasn’t sure if he was being overly dramatic – swarms of the dead surging down the corridors, flooding every room – or if it was just a few infected springing up from their beds. But the gunfire was serious, and Emile’s body language – hell, even his slipping back into more Rojasin, was telling me this was something major.

  When we got to A&E, it was a lot more hectic than my last couple of visits. The air was thick with the sounds of people shouting to be heard – a rainbow of scrubs and white coats amidst several confused and scared patients in plain clothes, robes and wrist tags. Standing between them and the corridors to the rest of the hospital were soldiers and cops, guns pointed outwards.

  As we arrived, several more officers appeared from the corridors, looking harassed and pale, accompanied by more staff and patients. They exchanged words with their colleagues, who let them through the line, where the cops and soldiers took up a new position behind them.

  ‘Wait here!’ Emile said, slipping into the loose crowd, heading for the nearest uniform.

  Despite what he’d just said, I was considering whether now was a good time to slip out or not – the tension in the air, not to mention the smell of gunfire, was thick. These were my hospital’s final moments, and despite having already made the choice to leave, I couldn’t quite move my feet. What if someone needed me?

  If I hadn’t have gone to bed, could I have made a difference? Would the price of a little fatigue have been enough to stop whatever this was from happening?

  No. Surely not. One person can’t stop a thing like this. I already tried and I was punched in the face for it – according to the bathroom mirror, my bruise was coming along nicely. My presence here was no longer required, or wanted. The Voison Health Commission would be satisfied I’d served my oath loyally until the hospital was abandoned.

  As I turned to leave, nudging my way through the press of bodies, Captain Hale jumped up on the nurse’s station, assault rifle on his shoulder, and started bellowing orders. That kind of thing grabs your attention, well, usually. I was still making for the door.

  ‘We are leaving the hospital! All medical staff, grab a patient! Sydow, GFPD, grab a medic! Transport is incoming. Get set, get outside, and wait! Alpha, Charlie, Sierra team, IFF firing – nothing gets through unless we want it to! Buy as much time as you can!’

  Suddenly I was buffeted along with a surge of activity. As doctors and nurses grabbed patients, soldiers and cops hung onto medical staff and herded them through the doors.

  The massed formation of the organised retreat meant I was swept up in it. I found a white-sleeved hand on my shoulder, and a solid mass in riot armour pressed into my back, urging us towards the doors.

  Through the waiting area and outside, there was no escape in the press of people, and no way out beyond it either. The ambulance run to the A&E was choked with vehicles – a Sydow Sec four-by-four was pulled up broadside under the shelter, and was hurriedly taking people on.

  I could see more lined up behind it – a mix of ambulances, GFPD cruisers and what must have either been hospital staff’s own vehicles or unmarked police cars.

  I shrugged the doctor’s hand off me, and turned to face him, only to see it was in fact, her. There was a sudden twist in my stomach, like the world had just tipped sideways.

  ‘Claire, what the fuck? He said grab a patient.’

  ‘You? You. You’re here…your jacket, your hair is…’ She faltered. I think my sudden appearance had caught her off guard.

  My breakup with Claire had been an uncomfortable series of texts and a few chats in the hospital canteen – not exactly an ideal setting, and as I said earlier, I’d avoided going near paediatrics whenever possible since.

  ‘Miss, we’re going to somewhere safer,’ the riot cop said, putting another hand on my shoulder as he towered above me. He had a voice of gruff authority that was hard to ignore.

  I took a step back and bumped into someone else in the jostling, impatient crowd. I unzipped my jacket and showed my scrubs to the cop and Claire, who seemed more confused than anything else.

  ‘Sorry Katy, I didn’t recognise you,’ Claire said, ‘look, let’s catch a ride and get out of here.’

  Gods, did nobody here have a spouse to go home to? Children? A dog? Or did I just get the loners?

  ‘Don’t take this wrong Claire, but I’m not going anywhere with you – with anybody. I’m going home.’

  ‘Nurse Cox!’ Emile shouted, fighting his way through the mob towards us.

  ‘She says she’s leaving, but not with us.’ The riot cop said to Emile. ‘Can you talk some sense into her?’

  ‘Valoro mi vida.’ Emile said, shaking his head.

  He turned to me and was about to say something, when there was a burst of gunfire from inside. He craned his head to see over the crowd, but the mass surged forwards, pushing us closer to the vehicles. I stumbled and almost dropped my bag, but Emile appeared under my arm and helped keep my footing.

  The vehicles in front of us were trying to move, despite people abandoning all sense of an orderly queue and just rushing for whatever was closest.

  We found ourselves being pressed up against the back of an ambulance, doors open, with people clamouring to get by us – but we’d been pushed along to the head of the herd. The evacuation wasn’t going well, at least from this end of the hospital. I was looking for a way to escape, a gap in the crowd, but suddenly, I was being hauled up into the back of the ambo by a burly paramedic.

  ‘Shit, no!’ I shouted, but Emile was pushing me up from behind. He climbed into the box after me.

  ‘We get off when we can.’ Emile assured me, allowing himself to be ushered into a seat by the EMT. ‘If you do not move, we will be crushed!’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, my bike!’ I shouted.

  ‘Sod your bike,’ the p
aramedic grumbled, ‘we’re getting the hell out. Give me a hand will you?’

  ‘Fuck you.’ I told him, despite going to fold down the spare seating from above the stretcher. I knew my way around these things.

  The back of the ambulance had two fixed seats at the front, mirroring the driver and passenger seats, with a narrow bench down one side that could fit three. On the other side was space for a gurney, a carrying stretcher hooked to the wall, and fold down seating for another two passengers. All the supply cabinets and whatnot were above our heads or between the sideways seats and the rear-facing ones.

  The notion was a fully crewed emergency ambulance had two staff, three if there’s a student on board, but generally one EMT and one paramedic who’d take turns arguing over each other’s driving ability. An ambulance sat outside a sporting event or waiting in the town centre on a Saturday night might have some additional crew, first responders and the like, but more often, they show up in regular cars with their gear in the trunk.

  All the other seats were for if the crew was attending a larger incident with a lot of non-life threatening injuries – like said sporting events or picking people up off the pavement outside the nightclub, when all the slapping and hair pulling had turned into heartfelt sobbing.

  I made sure the fold-down seats above the stretcher were secured and helped the EMT get a patient up and in, a young man who looked to have a broken arm. He must have been dragged out of his ward without warning, since he wore only bedclothes under his light hospital robe. Poor kid was pale and shivering, so I unfolded a silver-lined blanket and helped it around his shoulders. His expression was grateful, but he looked to be in a fair bit of pain as well.

  When I turned around, the EMT was helping up Claire, followed by the riot cop who’d had her back. Another guy was hauled up in plain clothes, I couldn’t tell if he was a patient or a cop, but once he was up, that was it.

  ‘Get down, there’s no room! Get the next one!’ I heard the paramedic shouting.

  ‘My patient can’t walk out of here!’