Deadrise (10 page)

"Its hot doctor." She said as he took it from her hand.

"Thank you." he replied. He held the thing shaft down, like a knife. He looked at Susan. "Hold him tight. Real tight."

"What is that thing?" she asked."

A cauterizing laser." Her eyes grew wide, and he could see her about to reply. "Its exactly the same kind we used in the hospital back when…everything was normal. Only difference is this one is portable. I've done this hundreds of times. It is safe, but painful. I need you to hold him again. Just a couple of minutes, and then we'll be done. Ok?" He held her gaze until she nodded in agreement. "Now lay on him as you did before. And hold him tight." He turned his gaze to the nurse. "And you as well. If his arm hits me, knocks my hand aside, I could fry his lung instead of cauterize it." The nurse pinned his arm above his head under her own arm, keeping Zack on his right side. The doctor bent low and began working.

Susan heard a sound like frying bacon, and Zack began to thrash anew. His screams had become gasping coughs.

"Keep his face down!" the doctor barked. "He's gagging on blood!" The nurse used her elbow to push his face to the side, clearing his throat. A sweet, burning smell came to Susan’s nose, nauseating her. She realized with disgust that it was the smell of burning flesh, being cauterized by the laser. Zack’s struggles grew stronger and stronger, as though he had found some deep reservoir of strength.

"Almost." the doctor said. Seconds later he stepped back. "Done!" he exclaimed. Susan rose up. "Hold him!" the doctor said. He looked around, spotting another nurse watching nearby. "Morphine! Quickly!" The nurse scampered away. The doctor reached to the tray and grabbed a bottle of warm water. He squirted it across Zack’s side, rinsing the blood away from the wound. The doctor pinched the side wound closed with his free hand, grabbed a medical stapler from the tray and quickly, if not neatly, used two thick metal staples to clamp it shut.

Susan's mind reeled from the primitive conditions she had witnessed. People came here to be treated for wounds, not receive more. She closed her eyes lowered her head, feeling Zack’s struggles ease. Coughs still wracked his body, but they sounded clearer now, not full of liquid. And in between coughs he was breathing, not gagging.

"You can release him now." the Doctor said. Susan raised her head to look at the doctor, eyes wide with amazement.

"Easy now." the doctor said, patting her on the shoulder, helping her to her feet. "Everything will be ok now. The internal bleeding has stopped and he has coughed most of the blood out of his lungs. Now he needs rest." The wound in Zack’s left arm had broken open and was bleeding profusely

"What about his arm?" Susan asked. But then she saw that the nurse had already begun attending to that. She was cleaning the wound and preparing to staple the ragged hole on either side of his arm closed.

The other nurse returned with a fresh syringe and a bottle of Morphine. The doctor removed the cap from the needle, inserted it into the plunger, and drew an amount that left the syringe 3/4 full. He injected Zack in his uninjured arm, then returned the cap to the syringe and placed it on the tray.

"Come morning will you have someway to transport him?" the Doctor asked Susan.

"Will he be able to travel?" Susan asked.

"Yes." the doctor nodded. "If times were better, two or three days good hospital care would have been the cure, but now…" he paused, looking around. "We can barely spare the room for one a few hours."

"Why not just move him now? I could go find My-" But the doctor was already shaking his head.

"No. Even though we can barely spare the room, we keep them for at least twelve hours. Just in case."

"In case of what?" Susan asked, suddenly weary.

"In case he dies." Susan’s eyes widened. But the doctor continued. "The first few hours after surgery are the most crucial. If he is going to die, it will most likely be within that time."

"So why should you keep them?"

"We dispose of them," he answered. "Something friends and family have a hard time doing when necessary. Quickly…Cleanly…Unclouded by emotion. It is a service." She remembered the soldier drilling into the fresh corpses head.

A shudder ran through her body.

We have to get out of the city, away from this madness.

She closed her eyes and could see the face of her father, looking upon her. Fresh tears clouded her eyes, but she blinked them away. You have to stay strong. She could hear his voice, soothing, comforting.

"Once the nurse is done, they will move him to a bed inside. You can accompany him." the doctor smiled at her then turned away, peeling off his bloody latex gloves.

Susan turned her attention to the nurse at work on Zack’s arm. It was disgusting, but she paid close attention anyway. She would have to learn all she could about survival if she was going to see her family to safety. When it was done, the nurse bandaged his arm, and put a large patch over his side. Without a word she went away. Minutes later, two different stretcher bearers came along with a solid wood field stretcher. They careful slid it underneath him, and carried him away. Susan followed. As they left the surgery area, Susan looked back and saw that Zack’s table had already been replaced with a fresh patient…

Chapter 8

Friday, June 22, 2001

University of Utah Hospital

Salt Lake City, UT

8:00 AM

It took Matt nearly an hour of creeping back down the winding road, choked full of refugees, before he finally found an area big enough to back the bus in. It was near the bottom, not fifty yards from the nearest hill with a spotlight. He spent the next five minutes making a fifteen-point turn to back the bus into the slot. If he had to get out of there in a hurry, he didn't want to be hampered by backing the bus out. He killed the engine and ran his fingers through his hair, stifling a yawn. He was exhausted!

"I hope a doctor is helping Zack." David said.

"They are." Matt sounded unsure himself. "This is a hospital. The radio is broadcasting medical help here. They wouldn't send people to a rescue station if they couldn't help them."

"You hope." David said.

"Where are we?" He was startled by his mothers voice behind him. Her sagging, disheveled hair, and her flushed, tear streaked face stabbed a knife of agony through his heart.

"I'm so sorry Mom." he said, falling into her arms. She wrapped her arms tightly around him, and fresh sobs overcame David. There were no more tears left in Sharon. She just closed her eyes and held her boy tightly.

"I know." she said softly. "I know." Matt took that as his cue to leave.

A myriad of aromas assaulted Matt’s nose as he first stepped off the bus. The smoke from the cooking fires, overlaid with the mouth-watering scent of real food. He realized with some distaste that he had eaten nothing but spam, sardines and Pork and Beans since they had first took refuge in the bomb shelter under the high school. If he never ate them again it would be to soon.

We have got to get out of this fucking city.

It was all he had been thinking about since Frank had died the night before.

Two men walked around the front of the bus, one of them the man in the blue vest and Levis, with the shotgun slung over his shoulder.

"Did you get your friend to a doctor?" he asked.

"Yeah. Hopefully they’re operating on him right now." Matt said.

"Don't know if that's good or bad myself." the man said.

"What do you mean?" Matt asked.

"I don't know if I'd call what they do up there surgery." there was the hint of a smile on the mans face. "But I guess beggars can't be choosers now can they?"

"No. I guess not." Matt answered. He was still wondering what the man's last statement had meant. "Those are real doctors up there? Right?"

"Oh sure they're real doctors." the man said. "But even real doctor have their limits when they see hundreds of patients per day and no longer have the proper medical supplies to treat them. They'll do what they can for him. You just pray it's enough."

Zack better live! First Frank, and now this? I can't do this by myself.

He remembered Franks dying gasp.

Take care of my family.

They were Matt’s responsibility now. He may not like it, but he could never walk away from them. In their short time together, they had grown close, relying on one another to survive. He had to get them to safety. Out of the city, and up to Adam and Kelly’s property up on Rainbow Lake. The man saw the grim look cross Matt’s face.

"Ron. Ron Black." he held out his hand. Matt took it in a shake.

"Matt Robbins."

"And this here is my brother Rick." he looked toward the other man, standing silent, assault rifle slung. Rick nodded to Matt, adjusting his blue ball cap.

"Is that there your family?" he nodded toward the bus.

"I guess you could say that. They were friends. Her husband was killed. We’re all each other have."

"How bout you let me show you around." Ron said.

"Sure. Just give me a minute." He turned and went onto the bus. Sharon and David sat together, talking quietly. The crying was done for now, and they both seemed the better.

"I'm going to go take a look around." Matt said. "See if I can catch some news on what's happening. David, I need you to hold the fort while I'm gone. Think you can handle that?"

"No problem." David said.

Sharon stood and gave Matt a huge hug, squeezing him tight then kissing him on the cheek. She held his face, looking him in the eye.

"Thank you," she said softly. "My husband thanks you." Matt could only smile awkwardly for several long seconds before leaving the bus. Ron was waiting for him. Rick had disappeared.

"Wasn't there another woman with you? Blonde?" Ron inquired.

"She stayed up at the hospital with Zack."

They began walking west, down to hill toward the edge of the encampment. People moved around them on their daily business like ants in a hive. Almost everyone they passed was armed, even the older, teenaged children. They passed several families preparing or eating their morning meal by their cooking fires. Large pots of stew... canned supplies they had with them. Army rations. He even saw fresh bread and rolls, cooked in a Dutch oven over the fire.

"Where do people get these things?" Matt asked.

"You'd be surprised what people take from their house when they don't plan on coming back. Some the army provides. The rest is salvaged."

"Salvaged?" Matt asked.

"You know…from the city?" Ron looked at Matt like he was a fool.

"You mean they loot it?"

"Where else do you think it comes from?"

"I haven’t really thought about it. I'm just glad to be alive."

"Let me explain it to you." Ron said. "Right after the initial outbreak the hospital was flooded with wounded. Most of them bite victims." He gave Matt a grave look. "There was nothing they could do to help them."

"Nothing at all?"

"One bite is all it takes. One bite and you are infected. Then in two, three days at most, you become a zombie."

"What kind of disease do they carry?" Matt asked.

"No one knows. All they do know is that it is one hundred percent fatal. And the hospital was not prepared to deal with hundreds of zombies at a time. Within twenty-four hours, the Hospital, and nearly 1/4 of the campus was infested with zombies. But then the Army came in and kicked some deadfuck ass!" Ron broke into a laugh. "But once the hospital was retaken it was flooded with even more wounded. To prevent the deadfucks from overrunning the place again bite victims were shot immediately. The rest were helped. But the hospitals resources were depleted with a week. And that was over a month ago."

"The news only went off the air a couple weeks ago." Despite what was happening in the rest of the country and around the world, the emergency broadcast stations had all proclaimed Salt Lake City to be safe.

"How long has the curfew been in effect? When was the last time you had actually left your house?"

Matt was silent. Martial Law had been declared in Utah last November. Seven months ago.

"Exactly. " Ron continued. "We needed supplies. The Army was short on soldiers. They asked for volunteers to go on supply runs into the city. In exchange for their services, their vehicles would be maintained free of cost, plus they would be supplied with an M-16 and trained how to use it, as well as supplied with ammunition. Food and first rate medical care for their families as well. No parking lot surgery for them." he chuckled as if to some private joke. "It was an offer most of those seeking refuge here could not refuse."

"Where do you fit into all this?" Matt asked. Ron was silent, taking several steps before replying.

"I worked at the hospital. Campus security. I was on duty the night it all went to shit." His voice sounded pained.

"Aside from your brother do you have family here with you?"

Ron didn't answer him for quite sometime. "No. While I was too busy helping other people, other families, my own family…" He fell silent. When he finally did speak his voice was soft and full of loneliness. "Well they didn't make it…"