Shit, she thought. She had forgotten to unfasten the strap holding it in place.
The deader glanced over its shoulder and snarled. Alissa fell backwards. Luckily, she had not loosened her grip on the Glock, so the quick motion snapped open the fastener. When she hit the floor, she still held the weapon in her hand. The deader stood and shoved the stretcher across the room to get to her. It hissed, preparing to strike. Alissa fumbled with the weapon.
Jaclyn lifted the cart supporting the suture tray and smashed it against the back of the deader’s head. It spun around to face her. Jaclyn swung it again, slamming the side of the cart into the deader’s face. Shattered teeth flew across the ER and its jaw unhinged on the right, dangling at an obscene angle. When Jaclyn attempted to swing the cart again, the deader attacked, shoving the cart aside and pushing her against the wall. It bent its head to one side and bit her neck. Because of the shattered jaw, it could not break the skin. Jaclyn placed her palm on its upper jaw and pushed its head away a few inches.
“Help me!”
Alissa snapped out of her daze. Holding the Glock properly, she stepped forward to help Jaclyn. A growl sounded on her right.
The second Boston police officer had reanimated and crawled to its feet. It glared at her through milky eyes, its expression confused. Once it realized it confronted prey, the second deader snarled and charged. Alissa raised the Glock, aimed at its forehead, and fired two rounds. The first struck at an angle, having little effect other than slowing its charge. The second hit between the eyes. The hollow point crushed on impact, the metal ripping its way through the brain stem and blowing a hole the size of a fist out of the back of its head. Shards of bones, brain matter, and blood splattered across the wall. The deader collapsed.
Reynolds, now one of the living dead, had crawled over to where Stacey lay in shock in the corner and had fed off her. When Stacey died from loss of blood, Reynolds stood, seeking more food. Noticing the first deader going after Jaclyn, he stumbled forward to join the feast. Alissa wanted to conserve ammo, knowing she would need it later. She picked the scalpel off the floor with her left hand. Reynolds turned to face her. She plunged the blade into its eye and, with her right hand, pushed the handle until the instrument slid into its brain. Rather than drop to the floor, it staggered. Reynolds shook its head as if recovering from a punch and lunged. Alissa jumped back. Reynolds’ intestines, hanging from its abdomen, became entangled in the stretcher. As it yanked to free itself, she stepped forward, placed the Glock three inches from its face, and fired. The hollow-tipped round shattered its head, covering her in gore.
Jaclyn screamed. Stacey had come back to life and attacked Jaclyn from behind, biting her shoulder. Jaclyn would become one of the living dead within minutes. Alissa had no time to lose. She stepped over to the officers, removed the spare magazines from their utility belts, took the second trooper’s Glock, and shoved them into her scrub pockets. As she exited, she paused long enough to pump two rounds into Jaclyn’s head, sparing her from a horrible afterlife.
Entering back into the corridor, Alissa gasped. What had occurred inside the room took place on a much larger scale throughout the ER. The deaders had gotten the upper hand. Half the staff and police officers from a few minutes ago were now living dead themselves, feeding off the few survivors who remained. The entrance to the waiting room stood a hundred feet away. If she moved now, she might make it. Holding the Glock in front of her, she raced down the corridor, careful not to slip on the blood covering the floor. She reached the doors without being noticed, pushed them open as she burst through into the waiting room, and stopped.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding.”
Chapter Three
Close to a hundred deaders packed the waiting room, with almost as many wandering through the parking lot outside. Everyone had already turned into the living dead, with no one remaining alive to serve as food, except herself. Her entrance made enough noise to attract their attention. A hundred pairs of milky eyes stared at her. With a collective snarl, the horde surged forward.
The automatic doors started to close, threatening to trap her in the waiting room. Alissa placed her free hand between the gap. She pulled open the left side enough to slip back into the ER, making it to safety as the deaders reached where she had been standing seconds ago. The mass of bodies slammed the door shut behind her, preventing them from getting in.
Her luck ended there.
The noise from the waiting room attracted the attention of those deaders in the corridor. They all turned toward the fresh prey.
An empty stretcher stained with blood stood three feet away against the wall. Alissa got behind it and ran down the corridor, using the stretcher as a battering ram. She easily pushed the first five or six deaders out of the way. Halfway down, the pack became thick and slowed her progress. She would be damned is she allowed herself to die this way. Summoning all her strength, she pushed harder and bust through. The exit on the opposite end of the ER stood only a few yards away. When she reached it, she spun the stretcher vertical across the corridor to block the deaders’ advance and swiped her badge across the automatic lock. Dozens of dead hands reached for her. Both doors popped open. Alissa ran through into the main part of the hospital. A deader in shabby clothes, probably one of the homeless victims of the outbreak, bounded over the stretcher and through the doors moments before they closed. It stumbled, regained its footing, and chased after her.
Alissa broke into a full run and headed for the stairwell one hundred and fifty feet away. Damn, these deaders were fast. This one gained on her. She would have to take it out. When Alissa reached the stairs, she stopped, spun around, and raised the Glock, centering the sites on its forehead.
A ping caught Alissa’s attention. The elevator to her right opened. A male nurse exited, pushing an overweight, elderly women in a wheelchair into the corridor, directly in front of the deader. It tripped over them, knocking the poor women onto the floor and shoving the nurse back into the elevator. The deader crawled over to the elderly woman and sunk its teeth into her left leg. Alissa expected to see blood flow from the wound. Instead, broken teeth dropped onto the floor. The woman used her cane to beat the deader on its head and back.
“Get off me.”
“Are you all right, Mrs. Byrd?” The male nurse came out of the elevator, slid his hands under her armpits, and pulled the elderly woman. Her prosthetic leg broke loose, the deader still chomping on the plastic coating.
“What’s wrong with that asshole?”
As if it heard the insult, the deader glared at them and hissed. Alissa stepped forward and fired a round into the back of its head, exploding its skull. Slipping the Glock into the waistband of her scrubs, she righted the wheelchair.
“Get away from me.” The woman brandished the cane menacingly.
The male nurse trembled. “Please don’t hurt us.”
“I saved your lives.” Alissa reached over to help lift the elderly woman, who smacked her shoulder with the cane. Alissa yanked it out of her hand and tossed it down the corridor.
“I’m calling security.” The male nurse entered the elevator and lifted the phone out of its cradle.
“We don’t have time for this shit.”
The male nurse listened for a moment. There was no dial tone. He tapped the cradle several times. “Why isn’t anyone answering?”
“Because they’re all dead.”
“Did you kill them?”
Alissa rolled her eyes. “Help me get her back into the wheelchair.”
She attempted to lift the elderly woman again. This time she punched Alissa, though the blow barely hurt. “I’ll call the police.”
“Good luck finding one alive,” Alissa snapped in frustration. “Now let me help you back into your chair before it’s too late.”
As if on cue, a noise emanated from the branching corridor outside the ER, the one that lead to the front lobby. Alissa held up a hand for the others to be silent and listened. She hea
rd slow, shuffling footsteps. One or two of the deaders must have wandered in from the lobby, attracted by all the noise from a minute ago. They had a chance of getting out of this if each of them stayed calm.
“What is it?” whispered the male nurse.
“One of those things is around the corner. Let’s get her back in the chair and into the elevator.”
“Stop whispering behind my back.” The elderly woman spoke in a loud voice.
A grunt came from the branching corridor.
Alissa placed her forefinger across her lips.
“Don’t tell me to be quiet,” yelled the elderly woman. “I want to know what’s going on.”
A snarl came from around the corner, followed by the pounding of running feet. From deep inside the lobby, a chorus emanated from a pack of deaders attracted by the noise. Alissa picked up the cane from the floor and headed for the corridor.
“Get her out of here. I’ve got this.”
Alissa brandished the cane like a baseball bat. She reached the intersection the same time as the deader and, with one violent swing, struck it on the side of its head. The deader spun around, momentarily stunned. She raised the cane above her head and brought it down on top of its skull. A loud crack echoed through the corridor and it dropped to its knees. Alissa kept up the assault. After a few more blows, the deader’s skull caved in and it fell face first onto the tiles.
A dozen deaders rushed down the corridor toward Alissa, still fifty feet away. Dropping the cane, she ran back to the stairwell. The male nurse had gotten the elderly woman into the wheelchair and pulled it into the elevator, backing himself against the wall. He reached for the buttons but his hand was too far away. Pushing the elderly woman forward a few inches, he sidestepped around the wheelchair and pressed the button for another floor. In order to buy them some time, Alissa withdrew the Glock from the waistband of her scrubs and fired into the pack, the shots random and having little impact. A male deader in a blood- and gore-soaked business suit wedged itself between the closing elevator doors and pushed its way in. Several more followed. Human screams and feral noises came from inside. Alissa ignored it, moving towards the stairwell and firing until the slide locked open. She slipped the Glock back into the waistband of her scrubs, burst into the stairwell, and started up.
More than a dozen zombies chased after her.
Alissa had hoped the deaders could not climb stairs, a mistake that nearly proved fatal. They chased after her, their speed slowed only by their numbers. Alissa took the steps two at a time, gaining distance but tiring out quickly. A locked gate on the fourth-floor landing blocked the stairs to the roof. Her staff badge worked on it. If she could make it there before the deaders, she could trap them on this side. Once on the roof, she could rest and plan her next moves.
By the time Alissa reached the third floor, she still had a ten-step lead on the deaders. Her heart pounded in her chest and she found it difficult to breathe. Only one flight left. Come on, she told herself. Don’t give up now. Alissa sprinted, her badge in her right hand.
When she reached the mid-way landing, a voice from above called out, “This way.”
Another nurse stood on the fourth-floor landing, her back against the open gate. She held a fire extinguisher.
“Hurry. You can make it.”
Alissa pushed herself, bounding up the last few stairs and practically diving through the open gate. The other nurse placed the fire extinguisher on the ground and pushed it down the steps. It had the anticipated effect. The lead deaders tripped on it, falling into a pile that blocked those behind them. During the melee, the nurse closed and secured the gate, then ushered Alissa up to the roof. She held out her hand.
“I’m Courtney.”
Alissa took the hand and huffed out her name.
“Don’t worry. You’re safe for now.”
The deaders reached the gate, shoving their hands through the bars and snarling. Alissa felt confident they would not break through.
Another voice came from farther up, this one younger. “Courtney, is she okay?”
A young girl approximately ten years old stood by the opening to the roof, wearing slip on shoes, sweatpants, and a sweatshirt. Her face lit up when she spotted the two women.
“We’re fine,” said Courtney.
The girl hugged Alissa, holding her close for several seconds. When she broke the hug, she offered her hand.
“I’m Stella. Welcome to sanctuary.”
Chapter Four
“Sanctuary?” Alissa asked.
“That’s what I call it. This is where I come when I can’t take it any more down there. Courtney brings me here so I can see the skyline. It’s bad today, though.”
For the first time, Alissa focused on Boston itself. It reminded her of a scene from a post-apocalypse movie. Black smoke billowed from half a dozen fires blazing throughout the city. Three blocks to the west, flames poured out of the windows of a four-story apartment building, engulfing the top two floors. No firefighters or equipment were present, either off battling other incidents or already overwhelmed by deaders. As she watched, the roof caved in, exploding the fourth and third floors into the streets where the debris caused nearby buildings to ignite. It was a chorus straight out of Hell—sirens, gunshots, screaming, vehicles crashing, and the ever-present sounds of the living dead. She wished she had not witnessed this.
Stella leaned her head against Alissa’s arm. Alissa placed a hand on Stella’s shoulder. “Thanks for saving me.”
“Why wouldn’t we?”
“How did you know I was on my way to the roof?”
“We didn’t,” explained Courtney. “We were up here when the outbreak occurred. I locked the gate but kept the door open so I could be warned of anything that approached. When I heard the living dead chasing you, I thought I might be able to help.”
“You did. What are you doing up here?”
Courtney leaned over and gently pulled Stella away. “Why don’t you check on that bird nest we found last night so Alissa and I can talk.”
“Okay.”
Courtney waited until the girl stepped out of earshot. “Sorry. I don’t like talking about this around her. Stella has terminal cancer. She gets anxious if she’s stuck in the room too long and loves the outdoors, so I bring her up here every day for thirty minutes. I guess the good news is she’ll never be going back to the ward again.”
Courtney forced a smile that did not conceal the tear running down her cheek.
Alissa understood how she felt. She gave the woman a hug, which Courtney returned. When they separated, Alissa asked, “Do you mind if I check out the area?”
“Go ahead, but you won’t like what you see. It’s like the seventh circle of Hell down there.”
Alissa strolled over to the front of the hospital and peered over the side. Courtney had not been exaggerating. The areas in front of the lobby and ER, the parking lot, and the street beyond were jammed with deaders or the bodies of those so badly eaten they could not move once reanimated. Rivulets of blood flowed across the pavement, forming puddles that drained into the sewers. She assumed the carnage extended outward from here, by now probably blocks wide. Alissa did a quick calculation. The only way she would make it through that horde would be if she had a Department of Transportation snowplow.
Circling around to the west, Alissa studied the area between the hospital and the Charles River half a mile away. The neighborhood extended to Storrow Drive, which paralleled the river. The neighborhood seemed panicked but not overrun, and the traffic on the Longfellow and Massachusetts Avenue Bridges scanning the river still flowed. So far this seemed her best bet of getting out of the city. If she moved quickly, she hopefully would make it across without having to fight her way through those things.
The southern approaches also offered a good avenue of escape, at least for the moment. Route 93 moved at a glacial pace, but then it always did. She knew how to bypass the gridlock and get onto the Tobin Bridge, which crossed the Mys
tic River and headed north. Though the shortest way home it could take the longest amount of time because, as she knew from experience, the bridge could jam up without notice even at the best of times. This would be her second escape option.
The east side overlooked the parking garage, where she had to get to if she didn’t want to walk home. A few dozen deaders shambled around the driveway between the two buildings and throughout the first floor of the garage. She tried to check out the other levels but could not see beyond a few feet since the walls blocked her view. She erred on the side of caution and assumed deaders were on those levels as well. Nothing roamed the top deck where the staff parked. She spotted her maroon Subaru Forester in the far corner. Moving farther to the right, she checked out the pedestrian walkway between the second floor of the hospital lobby and the parking garage. Not a deader in sight. Finally, a break. If she could make it down to the second floor and cross over into the garage, she had a good chance of making it out of Boston alive.
Alissa rejoined Courtney and Stella. The little girl forced a smile.
“I told you it was bad.”
“It is.” Alissa knelt in front of Stella and reassuringly rubbed her cheek. “But it’s nothing to worry about. Is there another way off this roof?”
Courtney shook her head. “Just the stairwell.”
“Please tell me you’re kidding.”
“I wish.”
“What about a fire escape.”
“None.”
Alissa swore to herself.
“You could try the scaffolding,” suggested Stella.
“What scaffolding?”
“They’re doing construction work on that side of the building.” Stella pointed to the end of the hospital facing the river. They’ve been replacing windows on the fourth floor. You could get back into the hospital that way.”
Alissa patted Stella on the shoulder. “Can you do me a big favor?”
Nurse Alissa (Book 1): Nurse Alissa vs. the Zombies Page 2