Life Among The Dead (21 page)

26

The janitor peers out through the slit of a window on the fourth floor. He tries to count the zombies, but can’t be exact. The dead pace the halls, entering and exiting rooms, he ballparks them to be about twenty strong. Many of them are children and it breaks the big man’s heart. This floor houses the NICU, PICU, pediatrics, and labor and delivery.

“
Is it safe?” Toby asks.

“
Not in the least.” The janitor responds. “Too many.” He tapes over the window as he did the others, and sits himself upon the stairs. He is exhausted from carrying the boy and his chair up all those steps.

“
Let me rest a bit. Then, we’ll try something else.”

“
Like what?” The boy asks. He lapses into a severe coughing fit. Each harsh exhalation makes his body spasm. His chair rocks as he hacks away. His abdominal muscles hurt from the involuntary work out. The janitor watches unable to help. He knows the kid is in desperate need of his medicine.

“
The main pharmacy is on first.” The janitor speaks when the boy’s bout subsides. “Every floor has a satellite pharmacy. We’ll try the next one. How’s that sound?”

Toby hasn’t the air to verbally respond. He just nods.

27

Bill and Dan rest on the third floor. The two sit in the stairwell, Dan fidgets with his locket while Bill collects himself. His limbs feel numb and detached. It almost feels like they belong to a stranger. He lowers himself to the floor knowing he shouldn’t because of how difficult it will be to rise again. He lets out a sigh as he does. The one positive thing that he can think of is that his wounds no longer hurt.

#

There is a survivor of another sort on the third floor. Donny DePonte is a two-time heart attack survivor with only himself to blame. He disregarded the doctor’s advice about his diet and the 69 year old neglected the exercise regimen that was prescribed to him.

The past year old Donny has spent more time in this hospital than out of it. Two days ago he felt a twinge of pain in his chest and his left arm had gone numb. He knew these were the warning signs of another coronary episode so he went to the ER. He was immediately checked into the cardiac unit for observation.

Donny’s doctor scolded the old fool once again. He went on and on about fats and clogs. The set in his ways gentleman just nodded and pledged he would try harder.

At around 6 AM this morning, Donny felt the pain again. He called for the nurse using the button on his bed. When she arrived the man had no pulse. He was circling the drain fast. A code blue was called and the red crash cart was pushed up to his bedside.

Doctors and nurses appeared from all over to try and resuscitate Mr. DePonte. They managed to keep him ticking, but he needed an emergency bypass. His failing body was transferred to the thoracic surgery unit here on third.

The hospital was short staffed and they had to call people in on their days off, Donny’s doctor was one of those unfortunate few on-call. This should have been lucky for the patient; however, the man’s doctor was having a bad day. First, the horror of being called in. And, second, on his way in, some crazy person had bitten him in the parking lot.

The cardiac specialist and the scrub nurse cracked Donny’s chest open. Sweat poured from the doctor’s forehead in buckets, the nurse at his side had trouble keeping up with it. The doctor was dizzy. The smell of the room seemed especially pungent today as the world spun.

Donny just laid there, not hearing a thing. Machines beeped and buzzed as they did the work his organs normally would. One pumped his blood as another breathed for him. His chest was wide open and held that way by stainless steel rib splitters.

The bypass was completed with textbook perfection. The Doctor asked one of the nurses to close the wound he had made. He needed to get some air. The surgeon managed five steps to the door before collapsing to the hard sterile floor. All available nurses rushed to him, but they were too late. The man was dead and they weren’t able to revive him.

Donny Deponte is still on that table, alive. His ribs are still flayed open and the machines continue to do their job, drawing power from the emergency generators. His doctor is still in there as are a few of the nurses. The medical staff all crowd around the patient, eating him. They take bites out of his flesh as the machines keep his ill heart going.

#

The trek to the fourth floor proved to be even more daunting an expedition for Dan and Bill. The younger of the pair had looked out and saw all the dead pacing the floor like impatient parents. He leans up against a wall and allows his body to slide down. He knows they can’t shoot their way through even if they had enough guns. There are just too many of the bastards.

Bill hobbles over to the window and looks out. A sign on the wall points to the right reporting that L&D is in that direction. The corridor is thick with zombies.

“
Damn.” He says. “There certainly seems to be a lot of them.”

“
Yeah.” Dan feels defeated.

“
Can you hold this for me, please?” Bill asks Dan, extending his muzzleloader to the soldier.

“
Yeah, sure thing.” He says simply.

“
Good luck.” Bill says.

“
Yeah, you to.” He isn’t following a word Bill is said. The soldier just stares at the floor seeing nothing. The door clicks and Dan’s eyes slowly widened as he figures out what has just transpired. Bill has entered the zombie-plagued hall. The soldier hears the old man scream, but his bellowing isn’t from pain, or fear.

“
Come and get me, Fuckers!” The screams fade away, getting quieter and quieter.

Dan knows the man is leading them away so he can get to L&D. The soldier can see the dead are all heading to his left, his path is clearing. He speaks under his breath. “Thank you, Bill.”

28

Bill Thompson moves down the barely lit hall, ignoring the pain and nausea. The staggering middle-aged man swerves around the corpses that reach for him. He shoves away those that get too close feeling like he is in a slow motion, instant replay. Some of the dead are able to get a grip on him, the man just jukes and they fall to the floor. He needs to give Dan as big a window as possible.

A zombie in a candy striper uniform clings to his ankle. Bill doesn’t stop. He drags the 90-pound blonde along with him. He doesn’t quit even as she sinks her teeth into his calf.
They can’t hurt me anymore,
he thinks.

Another stairwell is up ahead. Bill can see a red illuminated sign above the steel door. He has an idea if he can just reach it. The dead are slowing him now, multiple sets of hands and teeth cling to him. He can feel every numb scrap of flesh that leaves his body.

29

The parade of dead comes to an end; the last corpse limps its way past his window. Dan waits. He has to make sure he isn’t heard when he slips into the shadowy passage.

He follows the arrow towards Labor & Delivery. His pistol is tucked in his belt and he holds the rifle in one hand. Under his other arm he cradles the ammo box. He isn’t sure if he can load the long weapon, but feels safer with it.

Despite Bill’s sacrifice he walks with caution. The dead may still be around. Every shadow is suspect as he makes steady progress. He hasn’t come all this way just to get eaten.

The soldier passes a small gift shop. In the window he can see an assortment of tasteful gifts for people who have just had a baby. There are stuffed animals on racks, balloons along the ceiling, breast pumps, diapers, and greeting cards. Dan pauses to snag a teddy bear that is on display by the door.

To acquire the bear he risks leaning his rifle against the wall. His hand slowly reaches into the darkness of the entry, hesitating as if there is a force field. He almost expects an alarm to go off, alerting the zombies to his caper. No alarm sounds. He now carries the bear clenched in his teeth and the rifle is back in his hand.

The hall comes to a dead end at a wall made of frosted glass, Labor and Delivery is stenciled in white along the top. A door is built in to the left side and next to it is a service window. Behind the glass partition he can see golden light. He knocks on the door with his rifle’s muzzle and waits.

A figure slowly approaches, distorted by the frosted panes. It stops at the wall that divides the hall and just stands there.

“
No.” Dan says in a whisper, fearing the worse. He knocks again, louder. The window slides open suddenly and a gun barrel pops out.

“
Oh shit!” Dan exclaims, dropping to the floor. His ammo box clatters down marring the tile.

“
Can I help you?” A female voice asks.

“
I’m Dan…” He starts to speak through the bear in his mouth. He removes the plush toy's fuzzy ear from between his teeth and tries again. “I’m Dan Williamson. My wife is in there… Heather Williamson.”

From below the window Dan holds the bear up so the armed woman can see it as if it is some sort of identification. Dan remains crouched in silence. He waits for the woman to decide whether he can enter or not. He hears a click as the door is unlocked. He picks up the ammo box and stands before the nurse. She is short and round, her black hair is up in a tight bun. Over her shoulder is a pump shotgun.

“
Right this way.” She stands aside so he can enter. She leads the way into the labor and delivery section of the hospital after she secures the door.

L&D resembles the rest of the hospital he has seen today. It is dark and has a tense ominous feel. Dan can see one difference, people. Living, breathing people mill about holding candles or huddling under the glow of the emergency lights.

30

Blood pours from new wounds as Bill struggles to get through the door to the stairwell. Hands clutch tightly to his arms and legs. He is able to finally wrench his way free by pulling firmly on the door jam and out of the grip of the dead. He falls to his face.

It doesn’t take long for them to set upon him once again. His hands find the railing to the stairs and he hauls himself up. The old man is ascending in a crawl as the zombies pursue him. They grab at his ankles. He kicks out, knocking them backwards into one another.

The landing is filling up fast. They crowd into the space pushing their brethren down the descending staircase. Bill is halfway up when it dawns on him that no more hands are grabbing at him.

A quick look back and he can see the dead are having trouble getting up the stairs with more and more entering, the herd pushes the leaders down onto the risers. The corpses try to climb over one another in their pursuit of the meat that is getting away.

“
Better than I planned.” Bill says. A thick trail of red is left in the man’s wake.

31

The janitor and Toby are hiding in a woman’s restroom on the fifth floor. They had made it to the pharmacy, but several zombies emerged from the shadows forcing them to retreat.

“
You never told me your name.” Toby whispers to the large man. He is feeling weak and sleepy.

“
Oswald.” He tells the boy. “Call me Oz. Everyone does.”

“
Oz.” The boy whispers. “I like that name.” He can hardly keep his eyes open. He isn’t looking good.

Oz watches as the boy’s head lolls limply down. He gently shakes the kid. “Hey, stay with me.”

Toby opens his eyes into little slits.

“
Stay awake, Toby.” Oz keeps shaking him. “What pills do you need?”

“
I take… 3 blues, a green, and a yellow.”

“
What are they called?”

“
I dunno.” They boy is drifting off again.

“
Would you know them if you saw them?” Oz shakes him harder.

“
Maybe.”

Oz looks around the bathroom for a weapon.
Anything will do,
he thinks. He spots a mop leaning against the wall its head is on the tiles, the strands are bone dry. Ordinarily, this would piss him off since the cleaning gear is supposed to be stored out of sight of the public when not in use. He grabs the mop.

From one of the stalls he finds a can of industrial disinfectant, another faux pas that will do just nicely. He sprays the cleanser onto the mop strings. They absorb the caustic chemicals becoming saturated. Oz pulls out his lighter and ignites the torch. The room lights up in an orange glow.

“
I’ll be right back.” He tells the sleeping boy.

32

Bill has made it to the next floor. He needs to take a break. He has lost a lot of blood and is feeling light headed. The dead moan below him. A few have managed to get away from the pack and are climbing the stairs.

“
Not like this.” He forces himself to reach for the doorknob from where he sits on the floor. “I will not be eaten anymore.”

Bill slides his body into the hall and closes the door behind him. The dying man gets to his feet and starts walking. He doesn’t know where he’s heading, he just wants to keep moving. His shoulder is pressed against the left hand wall for support. A red smear trails him along the pure white paint.