The guard was looking at a man sitting in the first seat nearest the door. He was middle-aged with a beard and a ball cap on. His face was pale with several prominent veins on his cheeks. The man was slumped to the side in his chair with his mouth hanging open. A trail of thick, dark blood ran from his lower lip down his limp arm.
A minute later the emergency room doors opened and two attendants came out pushing a wheelchair. The guard pointed to the comatose man and the two attendants maneuvered him into the chair. One of the attendants then pulled out restraints and tightly strapped him in. The milling crowd moved gingerly away from them. The guard was still intently gazing about the room.
Just as they were ready to wheel the man inside, the guard came over and put his hand on one of the attendants and whispered into his ear. They directed their gaze to a pudgy, twenty- something year old girl standing off to the side. She was simply staring off into space, while rocking a baby in her arms. The baby was wrapped in a cotton blanket and held against her chest. One of the baby’s arms was out the blanket and hanging limply down. Every time the mother rocked back and forth, the baby’s head would limply fall from side to side. His skin was so pale it looked transparent. Dark veins snaked along the top of his head beneath his sparse hair.
The attendant walked over to her. She looked at him with a strange expression.
“May I see your child?” the attendant asked quietly.
The young mother instantly looked fearful. She turned her shoulders away from him and said in a frightened voice, “No. Why do you want to see my baby?”
Reaching out his hands, the attendant said, “Let me help you. Your baby is sick.”
“No,” she yelled at him. “He’s… he’s fine. My son is sleeping.” She pressed the limp child closer to her breast.
Insistent now, the attendant said, “Please. Let me see your son.”
“Stay away from me,” she screamed in his face. “And stay away from my son. You can’t have him.”
Now the guard came over. Everyone nearby was watching uncomfortably. They were trying to move away from them, but the room was too crowded. The guard reached out and put his hand on the blanket causing her to scream loudly. “Get your hands off of him. Don’t you touch my baby,” she screamed hysterically. She kept trying to turn her back toward the two men. She was now crying.
Just then, a moaning, and then a shriek burst from the far side of the waiting room. As the two men turned to see what had happened, the young mother used that brief moment to run for the sliding glass doors of the exit. She pressed the baby close to her, as she tried fighting her way through the people. In all of the commotion, no one saw the baby open its eyes.
The attendant turned and ran after her while that guard and another converged on the fracas in the other side of the room. Sensing the attendant almost upon her, the young mother turned. Spittle flying, she started to shout. Instantly, her shouts turned into screams. Her baby had bitten her breast. Although possessing only two teeth, he was able to break the skin. The mother tried to lift him away, but the child relentlessly held on. As the attendant reached out to grab the child, she pulled him back even closer, all the while screaming and crying.
On the other side of the room, the one guard who arrived first yelled, “Look out! Stay away from her. She’s turned.”
The panic and screams around the newly turned zombie spread throughout the ER, turning the entire waiting room into chaos. The ER doors slid open and two regular police officers ran out. Jason was standing right beside the doors, and ran past them as they emerged.
Inside the ER, he called out, “I need a doctor for my friend.” No one paid him any heed. He was about to shout louder when he paused to look around him.
There were nurses and aides running back and forth. Another police officer was in the ER helping a nurse and orderly to restrain a large, bald man in his bed. He was fighting them all the while, gnashing his teeth and growling menacingly. Jason noticed that for every one bed that contained a patient with a usual injury or illness, there were four beds containing a strapped down, infected person. Of those, two were still comatose while the rest struggled, moaning and snarling, against their bonds. A muscular, young, black man in the bed nearest him ripped his right arm free of his restraints. He was waving that arm around, trying to grab anyone who came close to him.
“One of them is getting free,” a young Filipino nurse shouted.
Completely unnerved by what he was seeing, Jason turned and ran out of the ER doors. The waiting room was in shambles. People were running for the exit doors. When Jason saw a woman grab another lady as she passed and bite her on the back of her neck, he broke. Running and barreling his way for the door, Jason, joined the others as they pushed people out of their way in an effort to escape.
Finally, he found himself outside; and not stopping, he ran for his car. Traversing the lot while dodging fleeing people, he saw Erica and Greta standing at the side of the Camaro. He ran up to them, huffing and puffing, and put his hands on his knees as he tried to catch his breath.
“He’s gone,” Erica said
“Huh?” Jason gasped.
“LaShawn,” Erica said, “he’s gone.” Jason looked puzzled.
“Greta and I couldn’t find a wheelchair,” Erica explained, “so we came back here to see if he had woken up. We figured that maybe between the two of us we could carry him into the ER.”
Jason stood up, at last catching his breath. “And he was gone when you got here?”
“Yes,” Erica said, “we looked around, but didn’t see him. I thought that maybe he woke up and went to the ER himself.”
“I didn’t see him there,” remarked Jason. “I guess I could have missed him.”
Turning toward the hospital, Erica said, “Let’s go see if he’s there.”
Jason turned to Greta and said, “Stay here, Greta, in case he comes back to the car.”
Jason and Erica quickly walked back toward the ER. They could still hear screams coming from inside the hospital.
Then, three shots rang out.
They both slowed and then stopped. There were people still in the parking lot. Some were running away while others paced back and forth helplessly. Then another shot rang out. Erica noticed two security guards standing off to the side. One of them was holding his arm. His sleeve was torn and blood was seeping through his fingers. He kept looking at his wound and swearing.
The automatic doors opened and a man staggered out. He stood wavering and vacantly looking around, through eyes that were milky and white. Then focusing on the people outside in front of him, he growled and showed his teeth. The crowd started backing up uncertainly. With the terrible hiss, he came at them. The zombie’s hands were curled into claws as he reached out.
People started screaming and fleeing in all directions. A police officer appeared at the door and they swung open. He was holding a wad of gauze to his neck. It was already red with his blood. In his other hand was his service revolver.
“Get down,” he shouted.
Raising his gun, he took aim and fired. The bullet hit the zombie in the back of his head. A pink corona burst from his skull and the zombie fell forward on his face. As policeman lowered his weapon, a woman came out of the doors behind him. Obviously infected, she came straight toward him. Looking over his shoulder as he heard the doors reopen, he didn’t have time to react as she grabbed the arm holding the gauze and tore a chunk off with her teeth. He pushed her away, painfully swearing at her in a loud voice. Raising his weapon again, he put a bullet into her left eye.
More muffled shots sounded from inside the ER.
Jason backed up, and then grabbed Erica. “Come on,” he said, “let’s go.”
They joined the rest of the terrified people running across the lot. Making it to the Camaro, they gave one final look around for LaShawn and then jumped inside and sped off.
§ § §
Dwayne and Billy went inside the house and watched Patrick Shannon as h
e walked across the street. He paused and thought about going back to the car to retrieve the gun he just got. But as he turned, he saw Billy in Dwayne Watson from the window. Although it was against his better judgment, he couldn’t bring himself to let Billy, who was watching intently, see him take the gun to his house. How could he explain shooting Billy’s parents to him? So he turned back and continued on.
Patrick could hear a police siren coming toward him. He stopped, but the siren continued on down another block. Stepping up onto the curb, he walked up to the Dwyer house. He lifted his hand to knock, but then stopped and rang the doorbell instead. The chimes rang pleasantly. For a moment there was silence. Then, he heard a muffled moaning coming from inside the house interior. Patrick knocked hard on the front door. The moaning increased. As Patrick continued his knocking, he heard a crash from inside the house. Then, the door rattled violently as two bodies slammed themselves into it. Patrick unconsciously jumped back. He could hear the loud moaning and hands pounding on the door. He closed his eyes as a deep sadness washed over him. He realized that his neighbors and friends, Steve and Stephanie, were gone; replaced by two zombie doppelgängers who would forever be trapped in their own house, endlessly beating their fists against the door. And what about Billy? Billy would be his responsibility now. He could do no less.
Patrick walked back across the street and into his house. Dwayne and Billy quickly came up to him.
“What about my parents?” Billy asked.
Patrick looked at him and shook his head.
“W-what do you mean?” Billy said. “You didn’t even go inside. They must be inside.” Billy’s eyes started to water.
“They are,” stated Patrick. “Billy, they must have already changed. They’re really not your parents anymore. They’re… they’re gone.”
Billy just stared at him, shaking his head in denial. The first tear ran down his face.
“But you didn’t even look to see,” he cried loudly.
“Billy, I could hear them. I could hear them on the other side of the door,” Patrick explained. “You told me that they both had gotten Pandora. All of the Pandora victims became reinfected. I’ve seen it myself, Billy.”
Overwhelmed, Billy just continued to look at Patrick and shake his head. Tears were streaming down his face. He kept opening and closing his downturned mouth silently as white spittle collected in the corners of his lips. Then the first sob came… a choking gasp.
Patrick went to the young man and held him. Billy broke down, sobbing loudly. Deep down inside of him, he had suspected this, but pushed that knowledge so deep down that it had almost disappeared. Now, the truth was out and he could deny it no longer. His parents were dead.
§ § §
The black Camaro continued up the New York Thruway. They still passed cars pulled along the shoulders. Several were from accidents. Right before the turn off to Route 84, a white SUV in front of them suddenly started swerving from lane to lane. Jason hit the bricks and slowed down. He could see some kind of a struggle going on through the vehicle’s rear window.
After hitting asmall Ford in the left lane, the SUV turned sharply and flew into a Jeep Cherokee parked on the shoulder. The white SUV slammed straight into the Jeep’s side and knocked the vehicle over the embankment where it flipped over onto its roof. The SUV flew over the embankment, following it. Its front wheels caught on the underside of the Jeep and it somersaulted over. It bounced through the undergrowth until it hit a large tree and burst into flames.
“Oh, shit!” Jason gasped as he went past.
The car behind him slammed on the brakes and in turn was hit by the car behind it. Jason pressed the gas pedal and continued on. Route 84 was the next exit; Jason quickly turned off.
They were now on a smaller local highway. Seeing a service station coming up on his right, Jason checked his gas level. Knowing he was getting lower than he wanted, he turned and pulled alongside of the pump, just as another car pulled away. Jason got out and inserted his credit card. Picking up the nozzle, he started filling his car. As he stood there pumping gas, he noticed the car next to him on the other side of the pumps. The driver, a man in his late twenties with a goatee and a ball cap on backwards, had his hood open and was leaning over the engine. Steam was streaming out of the engine compartment. Jason could see a woman sitting in the passenger side. She had blonde hair parted in the middle and was furiously smoking a cigarette.
Leaning out of the passenger side window, she yelled out angrily, “What the fuck’s the problem?”
“Shit,” the man yelled back, “it’s the goddamn radiator hose. It’s busted.”
“Well, we gotta get out of here,” she shouted back. “You better think of something, Bobby. We ain’t staying here.”
Jason finished filling the tank and put the nozzle back. As he screwed the gas cap back on, he saw Bobby slam the hood down and then pound it with his fist. Jason walked around and got into the Camaro. He was about to close the door, when it was yanked open. He turned to see Bobby standing there holding the door open.
“I need your car,” he stated flatly.
“What?” Jason said unbelievably. “Get out of here.” He reached for the door handle.
Bobby knocked his hand away and said, “I need your car. Get out.”
Jason turned the key in the ignition and started up with a loud roar. “Fuck you,” he said. “Now back off.”
The desperate man still had a hold of his open car door. “Give me your car or I’ll –.”
Bobby stopped and turned his head. A patrol car had just turned into the gas station and pulled behind Jason. The door opened and a policeman stepped out.
He looked at Bobby and said, “There any trouble here?”
The blonde woman, now out of the vehicle with her cigarette hanging from her lips, banged the roof of her car in frustration. As the officer turned to look across the pumps at her, Bobby reached behind him and pulled out a gun. The officer noticed the movement and turned, his hand moving toward his holster; but Bobby stuck his arm out sideways and shot him.
The bullet went through the cop’s side window, shattering it, and hit him dead center in his body. He fell back behind the open door.
Jason quickly threw the car in gear and hit the gas. As the rear wheels spun before the caught, Bobby grasped the inside handle. The powerful car took off like a shot. The sudden thrust forward slammed the door closed on the man, causing him to drop the gun, but he still hung on. As Jason turned a sharp S out the station and onto the street, the door swung open again, dragging Bobby along the road, and then slammed back again. This final move caused him to lose his grip and fall. Jason felt a bump as the rear wheels drove over him.
Jason looked in the rearview mirror, as a horrified Erica and Greta quickly looked out the back. Bobby’s body tumbled down the street. The blonde had already started running after them. She paused to pick up the gun. As she straightened aimed at the fleeing Camaro, the officer who had been shot got to his knees. He had been wearing his vest so the bullet only knocked the wind from him. Seeing the blonde take aim, he brought up his service revolver and, resting his arm on the broken glass of the window frame, shot her in the back.
§ § §
Billy had finally cried himself out. Dwayne took him upstairs to wash his face, and rest in his room with him. Patrick walked into the living room and sat down on his easy chair. He felt numb. Taking out his phone, he tried calling Anne; again it went to voicemail. His arm dropped to his lap and he laid his head back and closed his eyes.
“Oh, Anne,” he said, filling up, “not you, too.”
Knowing that she too had had Pandora, he realistically realized her fate. But he also knew that he had to at least go and try to find her. As he sat there morose, his cell phone rang. Quickly answering, he heard his brother’s voice.
“Pat,” Mike said, “are you all right? I didn’t hear back from you. I got worried.”
“I’m okay,” Patrick said. “There were a few incide
nts while I was out, but I’m all right. What’s happening there?”
“Things are getting bad, I think. We haven’t ventured outside today. All of the supplies we needed, we picked up days ago. But the usual sounds of the neighborhood have changed. I hear all kinds of shouts and screams…even the occasional gunfire. Sam and I have been glued to the television. Have you been watching?”
“No, not today,” Patrick said.
“Then I suggest you watch it. Things have changed,” said Mike. In the short silence, Mike asked softly, “How is Anne?” He knew of her earlier bout with Pandora.
I… I don’t know,” admitted Patrick. “She went out this morning to pick up some stuff and she hasn’t returned. I can’t get her on her cell either. Mike, I’m worried. I think something terrible happened to her.”
Mike said quietly, “I’m so sorry, Pat.”
Pandora (Book 5): Behold A Pale Horse Page 10