by Billy Wells
On the buttons to select a floor in front of the elevator, Lisa was shocked to find there were ten floors descending into the depths of the building that, on the outside, appeared to be a low-rise structure. This rehab center was much larger than it looked from the street. In fact the three other adjacent buildings might also have ten floors belowground.
She saw a cart loaded with hospital uniforms and, seeing no one nearby, grabbed a few, and scurried into the ladies’ room across the hall.
Once inside she entered a stall and tried one on. She was delighted when the first one fit reasonably well. After placing her purse and street clothes on the top shelf of the utility closet, she peeked into the hall and, seeing no one looking in her direction, returned to the elevators in hopes of inspecting a few levels below the first floor. She pushed the Down button and waited. She placed her trembling hands behind her back and pursed her lips to keep them from quivering. When the doors opened, she entered the empty cab and selected the fifth sublevel.
The car descended more rapidly than the standard elevator she was accustomed to and stopped abruptly with a whoosh. Bracing to be discovered when the elevator door opened on the fifth sublevel, she was relieved when no one was there.
Moving into the long, bright corridor, she discovered a hotel kind of atmosphere, except each small room had a large interior picture window instead of a wall. Anyone passing in the hall could easily see what the occupant inside was doing.
As she made her way down the hall, she saw zombie-looking patients with vacant eyes shambling about on a plastic chain affixed to the floor inside the first several rooms. Some were men, some women.
The hapless man in the fourth room looked at her like a juicy steak the same as Brent had done on her first visitations. This guy had somehow freed one of his arms from the straitjacket, and his teeth were bloody. Lisa saw to her horror that three of his fingers were missing at the knuckles on his left hand, and blood was spraying from the stumps onto both his straitjacket and his white hospital gown underneath. Lisa surmised that the bloody tidbit he was gnawing on was probably one of his fingers. He had an unnerving wide grin on his face that was streaked with gore and slivers of flesh. Lisa grimaced and felt queasy as she forced away her gaze and moved farther down the hall, yet taking a quick look into each room as she passed.
She paused several more times, recoiling in disbelief from similar depraved acts of two more patients who had escaped the bonds of their straitjackets. Where were the orderlies? Did no one care about the poor devils that were feasting on various parts of their own bodies in plain view of anyone who happened to pass? The horror of what she had witnessed was surreal.
She thought of Brent and what might happen to him if someone forgot to give him his medication. How many ravenous ghouls were in this facility? She couldn’t believe that the federal government could be involved in such a diabolical experiment, but the evidence confirmed it.
Lisa envisioned an army of these things trucked into an enemy village and then turned loose to devour everyone that they could sink their teeth into.
She cautiously made her way back to the main level. After several close encounters with security and the hospital staff, she stopped at various water fountains and detoured into ladies’ rooms several times to avoid contact with anyone who might suspect she shouldn’t be here. Her nerves were shattered as she finally found the restroom where she'd hidden her clothes.
When she entered, the young woman who had initially escorted Brent to the receiving room, stood primping at the mirror. Before the nurse recognized Lisa dressed in hospital garb, Lisa scurried into the first stall she came to and quickly closed the door.
Her heart was beating so loudly she thought the woman would hear, but finally Lisa heard her footsteps crossing the room, and, from the corner of her eye, she saw a huge cockroach crawl up the wall behind the toilet. She stifled an audible gasp as the woman crossed the room, pushed open the outer door and left.
When the sound of footsteps disappeared in the hall, Lisa quickly retrieved her clothes from the utility closet, returned to the stall, and put them on.
“Whew," she said aloud as she dumped the scrubs on the top shelf of the closet, walked swiftly through the lobby, and hurried to the parking lot.
As she drove farther and farther away, she kept one eye on the rearview mirror. As far as she could tell, no one was following her.
She smiled, thinking how a housewife had cracked the tight security at the Pentagon-like army rehab facility. She couldn't fathom how, with no planning whatsoever, she had managed to get into the lower levels of the highly guarded complex and out again without being apprehended.
The trip to the patient holding area had changed her plans entirely. She knew now exactly what she wanted to do no matter what the consequences.
During more weeks of surveillance on Colonel Baxter’s estate, she saw his son and his family several more times, other important dignitaries, military brass, and many well-dressed civilians. Still Lisa waited for the perfect moment to put her plan into action.
Finally one Saturday morning a caterer's truck pulled into the Baxters’ driveway and began to haul trays of food and refreshments inside. Apparently the colonel had invited some friends and associates for a brunch.
Lisa immediately picked up the phone and called Benny, a very unsavory individual she had hired in advance to help her in whatever way she required at whatever time she required it. As the phone continued to ring, she wondered if Benny would really be here as he had promised on a moment’s notice.
He'd given her the special telephone number to call when his services were absolutely and unequivocally required. He reminded her several times not to confuse this number with the other one he’d given her for normal business matters since his services on this number would cost $5,000 for each hour.
Lisa prayed her initial plan would succeed without a hitch, but, if it didn't, Benny was prepared to send in some thugs with machine guns to crash the party. It was not the way she wanted it to go, but, regardless, the people who were responsible for ruining the lives of her loved ones and so many others would feel her wrath soon one way or another.
She remembered the old adage: Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. Truer words were never spoken, she thought as her weathered face, lined with months of anxiety, morphed into something demonic and without pity.
* * *
At two o'clock in the morning, Lisa pulled up in the driveway of Baxters’ estate, exited the car, and, quickly making her way to the front porch, rang the doorbell.
After considerable time had passed, a light came on inside. Finally Lisa saw a bedraggled face with mussed hair peer through the right-hand glass panel of the massive entry door.
She immediately recognized the colonel. She had branded his real face into her memory even without his straw hat and wig. Baxter threw open the door dressed in pajamas and a black robe and stepped onto the porch. He stood glaring at her with an assault rifle pointed at her midsection. “Ah, Lisa, I’ve been wondering when you would arrive. I have already triggered the alarm for my security guards. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised you were smart enough to find me at my home. Most of the misguided rabble that want to stop me from saving the old US of A are looking for an aging farmer in a straw hat. But after cracking the security at the funny farm … Oh, pardon the humor. That's what my colleagues call the rehab center where your son resides. After that, nothing you could do should surprise me.”
He paused and looked into the night sky and toward the highway leading into the sprawling complex of luxury estates, then continued, “We have all of your movements on tape, but the glitch occurred when the security man, who was supposed to be watching the monitors, was instead porking the woman who had escorted your son in to see you. After his failure to follow protocol, the woman he was with was supposed to escort you out of the facility, but she failed on that score as well. It was a circus of errors, and both incompetents have been eliminated. Oh, well,
it doesn't matter now. My men are coming. I won’t be seeing you again.”
Lisa stood silent, listening to his prattle, and was happy he had apparently not received any of the calls she expected him to receive as yet. She didn’t care what happened to her now.
“If I‘m not mistaken, you will probably meet with an unfortunate accident on your way back to the base,” Baxter said calmly, beaming from ear to ear. “I certainly don’t want a lot of blood darkening my doorstep. It’s almost impossible to get blood out of concrete.”
Baxter paused to allow Lisa to speak, but, when she didn’t, he continued, “What’s the matter, Lisa? Has the cat got your tongue? I suppose you came here to tell me what kind of monster I am to create such a diabolical defense weapon with the purple passion fruit.”
“Not exactly,” Lisa finally said. "I'm sure nothing I could say would mean a thing to an unfeeling piece of shit like you.”
They heard the roar of helicopters above and saw the headlights of vehicles approaching in the distance.
Baxter looked at her solemnly and said, “Someday soon, my dear lady, when China, Russia, North Korea, and possibly Iran have wiped out our country with their own self-made viruses, plagues, and weapons of mass destruction, you will see the need for my supposed madness. Certainly you must realize that sacrificing someone’s family for the sake of the survival of the United States of America and its allies around the world is no different than asking young soldiers to march into a wall of machine-gun fire for the sake of life, liberty, and the American way. Sacrificing a few thousand people, well, maybe more than that, to save everyone is simply collateral damage that takes place in any war. It's a calculated loss that cannot be avoided. It’s for the common good.”
Ten military vehicles encircled the house and armed men in black uniforms approached Lisa from all sides. Two helicopters hovered overhead with snipers visibly pointing rifles at her from above.
“I'm surprised you didn't bring a weapon of some kind,” Baxter mused. “Were you just planning on tongue-lashing me to death with your rhetoric? If that’s why you came, your performance has certainly been lackluster up to now.” He chuckled with delight and began to turn to his house.
Two soldiers grabbed each of Lisa’s arms and started to pull her away when she cried out, “I just wanted to know if you enjoyed the fruit salad you had at your brunch today.”
The colonel stopped in his tracks as if he’d walked into a brick wall. He slowly turned to face her and saw the unbridled hatred and loathing in her eyes. The underlying weight of her words filled him with sheer terror.
“After all, Colonel,” she said with a blood-curdling, cruel smile on her lips, “sacrificing a few of the rabble for the sake of this great country is a price any patriotic American would pay gladly. Right? You sanctimonious asshole.”
Lisa tried to spit in his face, but he was too far away. A bigger grin than the colonel’s earlier one lit up her face as the men in uniform dragged her away.
Suddenly in the beam of the headlights fixed on the front door of the mansion, a small figure appeared holding a bloody butcher knife. The boy’s pajamas were soaked in blood as he lurched forward, stabbing the air with the menacing long blade.
Every soldier encircling the porch looked to the colonel for direction as the boy grew alarmingly closer. The little monster had a bone-chilling, maniacal frenzy in his eyes and slivers of bloody flesh stuck to his jowls.
Just before the soldiers opened fire to save the colonel, the boy said in his small, innocent voice, “I’m sorry, Grandpa. I was so hungry.”
DROOL
As Jerry wrapped his infected shin in the only rag he had left, he said with a grimace, “My darling, Maggie, you know I worship the ground you walk on. You’re the only girl I’ve ever loved, and I will do anything to protect you. I couldn’t bear to see you hurt or suffering.”
Maggie looked up at him with fond affection, brushing his hair back from his eyes, and said softly, “I know.”
“As long as I’m alive, I’ll never let those things get their hands on the girl I love with all my heart.”
“I know,” she said again, now feeling his forehead. “I know how much you love me, but you’re burning up with fever. The sooner we get to your grandma’s house, the better. Maybe she has some medicine we can put on your leg. It looks awful.”
Jerry groaned. “Yes, but let’s rest for a minute. I’m so weak from not eating for so long.”
The world had gone mad. Zombies roamed every street in the city. Jerry and Maggie had decided their only chance of survival was to leave their hometown and take refuge at Jerry’s grandma’s farm in the country.
On their way back to Jerry’s parents’ home to get food and his father’s gun, they were attacked by zombies and barely escaped with their lives. In trying to jump a barbed-wire fence, Jerry had torn a big gash in his leg from his ankle to his knee. The wire had been rusty, and now his leg was seriously infected.
Arriving at the house, they filled a backpack with what they could carry and made their way out of town. Fortunately not far away, they had found a motorbike overturned with the keys still in the ignition and a half a tank of gasoline. By sundown, they were miles away and heading south.
For a while the munchies had sufficed. They should have eaten them more sparingly, but Jerry never thought it would be hard to find food in the surrounding countryside. Moreover they wouldn’t have to contend with the citywide marauders who were killing each other for any edible morsel they discovered.
The motorbike eventually ran out of gas, so they continued on foot deeper into the rural areas on their way to Jerry’s grandma’s farm. Jerry used a sturdy broken branch as a crutch, but every step was painful.
Then the final bag of Fritos was gone, and thirty-six hours had passed before they found the mangy dog by the side of the road. He was almost dead anyway when Jerry broke his neck. They cooked him over the campfire that night. The old critter didn't taste too bad as hungry as they were.
After another day of finding nothing to eat, Jerry noticed a tomcat that kept following them, and Jerry actually started to drool. He never thought he could catch the feral animal, but something, possibly a lingering wisp of Maggie’s perfume, lured him in until Jerry could bludgeon him with a tire iron he’d found along the road. They didn’t like the taste of the cat as much as the dog, but it got them through another two days.
“What are we going to do, Jerry? Your leg is turning green, and it’s full of puss. You can barely walk. How far is it to your grandma’s farm?” Maggie asked, her small face creased with worry.
Pointing toward a mountain in the distance, Jerry said, “It’s still a ways over yonder, but don't worry, darling. I was in the Boy Scouts. I thought we’d be there by now, but this damned leg is making the trip harder and longer than I figured. We’re gonna have to stop for a while so I can build a rabbit trap out of these sticks I’ve been collecting along the way. It’s still too far to make it to Grandma’s without food.”
“Oooh, rabbit,” Maggie groaned.
“You can't be so picky now, my love. Rabbit tastes almost like chicken. You won't know the difference, I promise.”
Maggie looked at him with her innocent, pouting eyes and snuggled closer to him.
“I'd never let anything happen to you,” Jerry promised with conviction, despite his condition. “You know how much I love you. Do you still love me?”
“You know I do, silly.”
“Cross your heart and hope to die?”
“Always and forever,” Maggie said sincerely. This was the response Jerry expected when he said cross your heart and hope to die. She leaned over and kissed him softly on the lips.
The howling of wolves in the distance iced their veins as they peered into the underbrush for any sign of other wildlife.
Jerry only had three bullets left in his father’s old gun. The first three had blown the heads off of three of the band of zombies who had attacked them on the way to his hou
se for supplies.
He had to make the next bullet count since he wanted to save the last two for them, in case the whole world turned completely to shit. If all were lost, he would do her and then himself. Like the ending of Stephen King's movie The Mist, which still made Jerry shudder. The father in that story had been faced with keeping his last bullets for his wife and child to save them from a terrible death at the hands of unspeakable monsters.
While Maggie took refuge next to an oak tree and napped, Jerry began to make the rabbit trap as he remembered it from the Boy Scouts’ manual. The pieces of wood from along the road made it easier to construct, and he filled in with short branches until he was sure it would work. He found a few berries and wild greenery which rabbits like and placed them inside. When he finished, he returned to where Maggie was sleeping and lay down beside her. He was so weak from hunger that he drifted off to sleep almost immediately.
When Jerry awoke the next morning, he limped painfully to his trap to see the results. He could see it had worked because the door had fallen. Unfortunately someone had killed whatever varmint Jerry had caught and had stolen the meat while they had slept. Jerry saw the fur, the guts, and the blood on the ground, and then faint footprints leading into the underbrush.
Neither of them had eaten since they had devoured the final scraps of the cat, and Jerry had grown considerably weaker during the night. To make matters worse, his leg had swollen bigger and had turned bluish-black below the knee when he had inspected it earlier that morning.
Maggie looked dejectedly at the empty cage and said, “Some bad person took our rabbit.”
They heard the howling of wolves again in the distance and stared into the cold, unforgiving wilderness before them.
Jerry smiled wearily and said, "They took something, maybe a rabbit. I thought you didn't like to eat fuzzy little bunnies anyhow.”