by Buda, Chuck
“I need you, Shipley. Don’t give up. You are a great doctor and scientist. This is important. Everything you do is important.” He palmed the back of Shipley’s head and touched his forehead to Shipley’s.
“We must rely on ourselves through this.” He whispered. “We can’t expect the CDC or the government to figure it out for us. They have decades of proven ineptitude. But we can make a difference. If we can save ourselves, then maybe we can save our loved ones. Others.” His eyes darted back and forth as they searched the doctor’s for recognition.
“Someday, they might write about the great Dr. Shipley who saved the world from falling apart.”
“What if I fail? What if all I do is hurt more people trying to cure this?”
The Warden let go of the doctor’s head. “Then we will all die. That is the course we are on if we do nothing. At least we have a chance.” He turned to leave the doctor’s office. The creature strapped to the table hissed and slathered continuously.
Warden Gorgon paused at the door before leaving. “Make me proud, Shipley. I’m counting on you.” He nodded and the doctor slowly smiled in return. Gorgon swung the door open and left Dr. Shipley with his important work.
Gorgon listened to the echo of his shoes in the barren hallway. It sounded lonely but the noise pleased him. The alternative to the lonely sound was nothingness. And he didn’t want to understand that sound. Not yet.
Chapter 15
Melvin turned to face Jack. His wrinkled skin sagged around his tired eyes. Jack stared at Frenchie over Melvin’s gray afro. “Jack, I’m begging you to be reasonable.” Melvin whispered close to Jack’s face. Jack just grinned at Melvin.
“I am being reasonable. I only picked one.”
Frenchie charged forward but stopped short as Swede stood up. The imposing stature was enough to give anyone pause.
Melvin looked around the room. His eyes met each prisoner’s. “We have to stick together on this. Once we give in, it becomes a house of cards.” He wagged his finger at the inmates.
“What else do you suggest then, old man? Cause I know I’m starving and I could eat some fruitcake right about now.” BJ chimed in to the surprise of most. Frenchie glared at BJ now.
“Go get yourself a haircut you Led Zeppelin wannabe muthafucka.” Frenchie pointed in BJ’s direction. BJ just blew Frenchie a kiss and winked his eye.
“Enough!” Melvin’s hands shook as he took center stage among the prisoners. “This shit is crazy. We all hungry right now. But it’s us against them. They the ones doing this to US.”
Jack hated to agree with people when he was fired up. But he knew Melvin was right. “Melvin’s right. Sorry, Frenchie. You just look so...delicious.” Jack feigned wiping saliva from his lips. The crowd laughed. It visibly broke the mood in the pod. “We have to stick together and work on getting ourselves outta here.” Jack almost did a double take for his own words. He couldn’t believe that he ended up doing the Warden’s bidding after all.
Frenchie huffed. He folded his arms and sat down. His expression didn’t change from betrayal though. He shot a look at BJ again.
“And how are we going to do that?” Swede spoke for once. Jack shifted his gaze to the large man, thankful that someone else was speaking up for once. He was tired of being the main mouthpiece.
“Our best shot is to take control during the next shakedown. They have weapons, which we need. That’s the only time the doors open. It gives us the best chance for escape.” Jack rubbed his chin.
8-Ball stood up. “Yeah, and who you think is gonna do the dirty work? They shoot niggers first. I ain’t dying for your pasty-ass cracker ways.”
Joker laughed. An evil sound grumbled at the end of the noise. The entire group stared at him with disgust.
“Here we go.” BJ rolled his eyes and slapped his knee.
“You have thoughts on the matter, Joker?” Jack took a step toward the crazy man.
“Thoughts, thoughts. I have plenty of thoughts.” He cackled again.
“Now’s the time to spit them out, nigga.” Melvin’s eyes squinted at Joker.
The group waited several moments before Joker shared his ideas.
“Inspection time is the worst time to make a move. 8-Ball is right. They will shoot, taze, beat. Doesn’t matter which but that is when they are primed for action.” Joker jumped up in the air and made pistol-shooting motions and sounds as spittle flew from his lips.
“This is fucking crazy.” BJ stood up, pleading with open arms for someone to get rid of Joker.
“I’m not finished!” Joker screamed while he hunched over like a bear ready to strike its prey. The pod remained quiet. The men were entertained, if not interested in Joker’s thoughts. “We need to strike while they are distracted. Distractions work. Distractions are friends too.” He licked his lips. Joker’s eyes went wide with excitement.
Jack approached Joker. He whispered to the man in an attempt to get Joker to settle down. “What kind of distraction, Joker?” He rested his palm on Joker’s arm. It seemed to do the trick since Joker took a deep breath and stood straight.
“Fire.”
“No fucking way!” BJ shot up and shouted.
“Muthafucka outta his damn mind.” 8-Ball swung his hand down as if to swat away an annoying insect.
“Uh-uh, honey. I’m not playing with that kind of fire. Uh-uh.” Frenchie flapped his hands like a little girl waving to her parents.
Swede stood again. And everyone fell silent. Jack was grateful that the big guy had that effect. It was useful in times like this.
Jack looked at Melvin. “Joker may have something, but...” Jack looked to Melvin to finish his sentence.
“But they might let us burn in here.” Melvin finished Jack’s thought.
Jack nodded. “It is a very good idea, Joker. But we have to be sure the guards will have a reason to open up and help us put out the flames. Otherwise, we will all look as crispy as 8-Ball.” He shot a look at 8-Ball that dared him to complain about the racial slur.
“Beats starving. Or turning into a zombie.” Swede sat back down.
“Not necessarily. If you turn into a zombie, you get to eat again. Technically.” Jack tried to make light of the conversation but it was as popular as a fart in church. “Let’s think on Joker’s concept and see what we come up with. Unless anyone has a better idea?” He scanned the circle of men. Most of them avoided his eye contact. A few shook their heads quietly.
“It’s settled then. We think and meet up again in two hours. If we don’t figure it out, we start to pick straws on who we eat first.”
Frenchie stood up with anger in his eyes. “Oh, so now we pick straws. But before you were doing me first?” He slammed his hands on his hips.
Jack smiled at Frenchie. “No, we’ll still eat you first. The straws are to see who gets eaten NEXT.” Jack turned and walked off to his bunk room. He heard Frenchie calling him names and trying to chase after him. But someone must have impeded the man’s progress. Probably, Swede, Jack thought. He really did think Frenchie was annoying. Jack had no problem with gays. He just didn’t like people who couldn’t keep their mouths shut or their hands to themselves. And Frenchie was one of those people.
Jack climbed up into his bunk and stared at the gray paint above his head. He heard Swede enter the room and slump down on his bunk. Neither man said a word as they both concentrated on fleshing out the plan.
Chapter 16
Dr. Shipley watched the zombies. The two security guards, turned zombies, were strapped to the examination tables, face down. They gnashed their teeth and strained against the leather restraints endlessly. While they succumbed to their limbic systems, the two infected staff members were wrapped in strait jackets and chained to the iron bars. They had limited range of motion, only about a foot in either direction. They too gnashed and struggled to break free for the human flesh meals that taunted them nearby.
He felt the butterflies work their way around his gut. Working on injured or
infirm patients was one thing. Testing undead patients was another. But, as much as that disturbed him, the submitting of healthy patients to their own deaths unnerved him. Shipley chewed at a ragged fingernail that ceased to look like one. He scrambled to figure out another way to give the Warden what he wanted without carrying out the order to kill two people. He kept coming up empty for ideas. Shipley knew it was a matter of following through on Gorgon’s orders or suffering the consequences. After hearing the Warden’s ideas on the zombies, Shipley was afraid to test his chances with his own fate.
The nurses watched Dr. Shipley. They both looked scared. Dixie had protested her own involvement, much like Shipley had. Samantha seemed to accept the orders even though she looked uncomfortable with the direction it was headed in. Samantha was always one to carry out orders without question. A dedicated and loyal employee. A lamb to slaughter is more like it, Shipley thought.
“Well. I guess it’s time.” He strolled to the quarantine room. He peeked into the small window and saw the two staff members. One was sleeping in a fetal position on the cot. The other was sitting on the floor playing with her fingers. Shipley gulped loudly as he neared the point of no return.
“Sedatives ready?” Dixie replied without Shipley’s attention. He remained focused on the people inside the small room.
“One more time. The plan is for me to hold down Rico. Samantha will administer the sedative while Dixie reassures Mabel. Once Rico is sedated, we will take care of Mabel. Understood?” This time Shipley turned to get visual confirmation of the plan. Both women nodded with saddened eyes.
“Let’s go.” Dr. Shipley unlatched the door. Mabel looked up at them as they entered the room. Rico was slow to respond to the sounds as he must have been deep in sleep. Shipley was thankful because it would make the job easier. He leaned over the cot and forced his weight down on Rico before the man could respond. Samantha plunged the needle into Rico’s arm, causing the man to scream in anguish. He bucked and rolled in an attempt to escape the attack but Shipley’s weight did most of the work. Rico managed to throw an elbow up which caught the side of Shipley’s nose. He felt the blood start to run down his nostrils.
While he and Samantha worked on Rico, Mabel must have jumped into the action. Dr. Shipley felt punches land on his back as he tried to keep Rico down. He heard Mabel shouting obscenities in between jabs. Dixie had lost control of Mabel and Shipley knew he had to help out before the woman figured out, with the door open, she could attempt to escape.
Shipley allowed Rico’s thrashes to catapult him off in Mabel’s direction. He stumbled backwards into the woman and they both landed on the floor. Rico, still screaming, stood up and swatted Samantha away. She landed with a thud against the heavy door. Shipley leaned all his weight back on top of Mabel who continued to rain punches down on the back of his head. His glasses skittered across the floor and the room went blurry immediately. He hoped he could use his foot to stem the tide until the sedative took effect. Rico lunged forward to attack Shipley.
Now the doctor was getting it from both ends. Mabel, underneath him, kept hitting him from behind. Rico, above him, was trying to choke him. Big, strong hands clenched his throat. While the air supply was cut off, Shipley glanced to the right to see Samantha crying on the floor. He rolled his eyes to the left and caught Dixie standing in the corner, screaming at the top of her lungs. He thought, if he lived through this experience, he would have to look into replacing his orderlies with more reliable people. Then he snickered as he figured there was nobody left on the planet that wasn’t a zombie or exposed to zombie germs.
The light started to fade and darkness shrouded the corners of his vision. Dr. Shipley felt himself slipping away into an unconscious state, or worse, death. Then the sedative must have worked its way through Rico’s system. Finally. The man slowed his movements instantaneously, flopping down like a dead weight. Rico stopped shouting and choking the doctor. Shipley gasped for air. Where he was recently choked off by hands, now Rico’s weight was crushing his lungs and performing the same feat.
“Get...off...” Shipley squeaked the words out in a breathy sound. Dixie finally stopped screaming and she and Samantha dragged Rico off him. It took a solid minute or two, Mabel continuing her attack all the while.
“Give her the goddamn shot already.” He screamed at the nurses who were still shaken from the events. Samantha stepped forward and plunged the needle into Mabel’s leg. She hadn’t bothered trying to hold the woman’s arms steady. The sedative worked much quicker on Mabel, probably because her energy was all spent from hitting the doctor. She lost her functioning and slumped back against the cement floor.
Shipley sat up and gasped for air. He felt exhausted. A part of his brain told him it served him right for doing the work of the devil. He didn’t deserve an easy time sending these people to their deaths. Another part of him wished that Rico or Mabel had killed him, saving him from a lifetime of guilt and a guaranteed trip to hell. Then Shipley laughed out loud as his breath came back. He suddenly found it funny that his lifetime of guilt might only last a few more days or weeks.
His laughs turned to sobs. Shipley knew there was no turning back now.
Chapter 17
Shipley pulled himself to his feet. He panted, trying to catch his breath, with his hands on his hips. The two nurses stared at him, both crying. He tried to smile to reassure them but his facial muscles were too exhausted to constrict.
“That was fun.” Shipley tried to joke to help himself cope with what he had done. It didn’t cheer up the nurses and it certainly didn’t lift his spirits either. “Help me get them both into the wheelchairs.” The nurses remained in place, sniffling and sobbing. “Now.” His tone snapped the ladies out of their tears.
Dr. Shipley hated himself. It only took seconds for him to condemn his actions. He understood the Warden’s intentions of sacrificing a few for the good of many. He even believed in doing anything possible to sustain life and improve their chances for survival. But this wasn’t who he was or wanted to be. He got into medicine to help others. He took the position at the prison because it would be more cost effective for him to practice. No overhead, no expenses. Just tax dollars paying for his services inside the walls of the prison. It used to bother him at cocktail parties when his other doctor ‘friends’ scoffed at his job as opposed to owning a practice. He had the last laugh when it came time to file tax returns though. And now, where were all those doctors? Probably infected or cowering in a corner somewhere. So his ‘job’ had saved his life. Or at least extended it beyond the longevity of his peers.
Dixie wheeled in the first chair. They struggled to lift Rico and set his body upright. Shipley held the man up while Dixie fastened the straps around his wrists and ankles. Even the wheelchairs were designed for dangerous criminals. Once secured, Shipley pointed at Rico and Dixie got the hint to wheel him out to the main room.
Samantha brought in the next wheelchair. They worked together to repeat the process with Mabel. She was a big woman and Shipley wondered if she weighed more than Rico. Samantha brought Mabel into the big room. The doctor composed himself and followed.
He huffed on his glasses and wiped them clean before placing them on his head. A splotchy fingerprint covered one lens from where one of the staff members had touched it.
Now, the real test. He took a deep breath and looked at Dixie and Samantha. Both women held each other and watched him. He sighed, knowing full well he was on his own at this point. The nurses had been reluctant to help subdue the patients. There would be no chance either of them would pull the plug, so to speak, he reasoned.
“Okay. Let’s get this over with.” Dr. Shipley stepped behind Rico and wheeled the chair closer to the zombies that were secured in strait jackets.
He paused for a moment, trying to decide which zombie to feed. Shipley chuckled under his breath about tossing a coin. He pushed the chair closer to the zombie on the left. It lunged forward, jerking the chain with a thunderous clank. The
maw salivated, dripping gooey streams down its slightly decomposing chin. The raspy sound coming from its throat was horrifying. Shipley closed his eyes and shoved the wheelchair another inch or so closer.
The chained zombie sunk its jaws into Rico’s neck. He was so sedated he couldn’t scream. His mouth grimaced as if he was screaming but no sound emitted. The blood gurgled on his neck and Shipley realized he wasn’t supposed to feed the zombies. He was only supposed to infect the staff members. He jumped on the handles and wheeled the chair back enough that the creature couldn’t reach Rico anymore. Blood painted the cement floor and dripped down the front of the strait jacket. The bite appeared to only encourage the zombie to try harder to stretch forward. It kept rasping and rasping.
“Patch him up. Hurry.” Shipley pointed at Rico. Dixie jumped ahead of Samantha. She grabbed clumps of gauze and bandages from the shelf and started to administer first aid. Rico’s eyes gushed tears, his brain understanding what was happening but his body unable to defend itself.
Dr. Shipley wheeled Mabel over to the zombie on the right. He almost pushed her forward when he realized it might be more effective to utilize the ones strapped face down on the tables. He adjusted and turned to take Mabel to one of the security guards turned undead. Shipley parked the wheelchair close to the head of the examination table. He unstrapped the right wrist strap and lifted the slumbering arm to the face of the zombie. It chomped down on Mabel’s hand, blood squirted into the air as the bite tapped the large vein on the back of her hand. Shipley wriggled to get the hand out of the monster’s jaws, but the bite was too strong. This zombie seemed to enjoy gritting its teeth across the flesh rather than chomping through.