Sometimes We Ran (Book 1) (12 page)

After about twenty minutes, the bleeding stopped and I felt a little better. Claire helped me to my feet. “Are you sure you’re steady there big guy?”

“I’m okay. We need to finish checking out the hallway.” I was still somewhat foggy in the head. I hope I didn’t have a concussion.

Claire held her hand up. “Just a minute. First I am going to dress that cut on your head a little bit.”

She led me back into the garage area and sat me down on a nearby cot. She then rummaged through her first-aid kit and produced a butterfly bandage and some antibiotic ointment. She washed the cut first with a little water, dried it with a clean cloth, and then spread on a little ointment that stung a little. She followed it with a bandage. Claire did a great job. I was glad she was around.

I must have been giving her a strange look. “Why are you looking at me like that? Do you expect me to kiss it and make it better?”

I smiled at her. “No kiss necessary. You did a really good job dressing the wound.”

Claire blushed a little. “The Girl Scouts taught me everything I know,” she said.

As I was still feeling a little woozy, Claire helped me off the cot so that we could check out the hall. Our flashlights revealed a door at the other end with a two-by-four nailed across the opening. There was also another door to our immediate left across from the dispatcher’s office. The rest of the hallway was featureless except for a water fountain about halfway to the far door.

“Let’s check out the far end first,” I whispered to Claire.

She got her bat ready. “Let’s be careful.”

We made our way slowly to the end of the hall. Along the way, we passed pictures of the people who used to live and work in this station. They were all strong young men and women who all looked so serious in their pictures. The only exception was a group picture near the end of the hallway. It was a picture of all of them beside their pride and joy fire truck. They were all smiling and hamming it up for the camera. We stood there for a minute wondering what happened to all of them. Were they all dead, or did they become zombies? Maybe they lived through the nightmare and are fighting the good fight somewhere else. I looked closely at the photo and found the fire chief and the young lady dispatcher among the rows of young firefighters. We know where they wound up. Their zombie corpses were lying behind us in the office. One tried to kill and eat me, but wound up with a tomahawk to the head.

We also found a few bloody hand prints on the wall. Someone had battled zombies in this hall.

We turned our attention to the door. It was like all the others, except it had a small painted skull about halfway up the length in neon green. I grasped the handle and started to remove the wood when Claire grabbed my hand.

“Maybe we should think about this. It could be zombie city in there,” Claire said with a little concern in her voice.

She could be right. I put my ear to the door to listen for any zombie sounds, but heard nothing.
“Let’s leave it alone. We’ll check out that other door across from the office.”

We left the blocked door behind, and went to the other end of the hallway. We stopped at the door across from the office. It was marked “Storage”. I turned the handle, expecting a small closet stuffed with janitor supplies or something.

I was wrong.

Our flashlights revealed a large room about the size of a residential garage. It had another door leading to the outside on the opposite wall, surrounded by two small windows. There were a couple of large plastic water tanks in one corner with what looked like shower stalls in front. A few tables were across the room from the showers. They were wheeled medical-type gurneys with IV poles and machines attached. Cabinets with medical equipment and instruments were positioned here and there along the walls. Dried blood, medical waste, bloody towels and other debris littered the floor. It was a real disaster area, and it smelled a little like a sewer.

Claire went to check out the medical area, while I looked over the showers and water tanks. I found a couple of large tanks that had probably contained water. Most were empty, but I found one hooked up to a hand pump that was about three-quarters full of bluish water. I followed the hoses from the tank to the hand pump, and then to a small manifold above a couple of temporary shower stalls. The water went from the tank, through the hand pump, and then it went to the manifold, then from the manifold it was distributed to the stalls. The stalls were all self-contained units. The water fell into catch basins in the floor of the shower stalls and drained into a hose going outside. If we could make it work, we might be able to take a shower. It would be cold, but at least we could get clean.

The room lit up with a golden glow. Claire had found some battery-powered lamps. They were charged by solar energy. A few still had a little charge left in their batteries.

“Let there be light,” she said proudly. “Hey, is that what I think it is?”

“Yep, it’s a bunch of showers. I think they may have been used as decontamination stations. Maybe they thought they could wash the zombie plague away,” I said with a laugh.

“Do you think they work? I could use a bath,” Claire said taking off her backpack.

I unscrewed the cap off the tank and smelled the water. It had a scent similar to swimming pool water. I shined my flashlight on the pump and checked out the instructions. It all seemed pretty straightforward. I turned the handle, and a gurgling sound came from the tank as water moved to the manifold above the showers. I pumped for about fifteen minutes or so until I thought that enough water had passed from the tank to the manifold. I stepped into one of the shower stalls, turned a small knob, and was rewarded with a stream of water from the shower head. It was a steady stream, but it was ice cold.

Claire clapped her hands with delight. “Hot damn! Me first.” She began to remove her clothes.

“Wait a minute. Let’s find a few towels first before you get naked and everything.” I found a couple of white, starched towels, and gave a few to Claire. “Take your shower. No more than fifteen minutes though. Be warned that the water is cold.”

“No more that fifteen minutes,” she repeated. She grabbed some soap and shampoo out of her backpack and waved me away. “Go over there and don’t look.”

I smiled a bit at her modesty, and walked over to the gurneys to keep a lookout. I heard the water turn on, followed by a squeal from Claire. “Holy crap, this water is cold,” she said above the sound of the shower.

I took a closer look at one of the gurneys. It contained a partially zipped-up body bag with a small ID tag attached near the head. It read “Male - approx. age 40, Infected 2/18/15, turn time: 18 minutes, Variety: yellow eye.”

The body bag contained a zombie.

While Claire finished up her shower, I unzipped the bag and took a look. The body was badly decomposed and the smell brought tears to my eyes. Maggots the size of small earthworms fell out of his eyes and mouth. When I looked closer, I saw surgical scars here and there across the body. Apparently, the medical staff here had done a autopsy. The smell was making what little food was in my stomach turn, so I quickly zipped up the bag.

I found a small clipboard attached to the gurney. I thumbed through the attached papers and saw phrases like, “patient admitted to medical with several bites,” “high fever with convulsions followed by death,” “patient reanimated-18 minutes from death,” and “extremely violent and unreachable through normal communication.” One page contained in the chart had a list of about a hundred medications, ranging from common antibiotics to experimental vaccines, that had been administered. None of them had any effect on the zombie virus, fungus, parasite, or whatever it was that had reanimated him. It looked like they knew about as much as Claire and I knew about the outbreak: nothing.

Claire finished her shower early and bounded over to me fully dressed, all dry, and looking squeaky clean. Only her auburn hair was still wet. “Wow. That may have been the best shower ever,” she said as she walked up.

The shower had done her good. “Better dry your hair,” I said handing her a towel. “You’re still fighting a cold, you know.”

“Got it covered. I cut it short so it dries easier. Watch.” Claire stepped back and shook her head like a dog after a bath. Water droplets flew off her head in every direction. After she was finished, her hair was indeed drier, but now it stuck out of her head in little pink highlighted auburn spikes. I tried, unsuccessfully, to stifle a laugh.

“What are you laughing at? That’s how I dry it.” Seeing me laugh was starting to make her giggle a little bit.

“Nothing. It just looks like you stepped on a power cable.” That got us both laughing like mental patients.

“All right, smart guy,” she said as she composed herself. “Your turn to hit the showers.”

I handed her my rifle, and directed her to a good lookout point. I grabbed some toiletries, opened the curtain on the nearest stall, and stepped inside. It was fairly large, with a small sink and mirror on one wall, and a nozzle on the other. There was also a small bench. I stripped down and turned on the water. Remembering that bad things can happen when you’re naked and in the shower- like a zombie trying to join you for instance-I kept my weapons within easy reach.

Claire was right. It was the best shower ever. At first, I didn’t even mind that the water was ice cold.

I soaped up everything, including my hair, and then rinsed off quickly. Although getting clean felt good, I was about to freeze to death. I carefully pulled the bandage off my new cut and washed it with soap and water. It stung like crazy, and was beginning to swell a little bit.

I turned to the small mirror to check out my new wound. It was an inch-long slice right above the left eyebrow. Not so deep to need stitches, but deep enough to hurt like hell. It matched the one over my right eye. I got that cut when I slipped and fell during a truck raid looking for supplies.

I dried myself with the stiffest towel I had ever seen, then ran a slightly dull razor over my face to cut down on my beard a little. Unlike the youthful Claire, the shower really didn’t make me feel any better. It was nice to be clean, but I still felt tired and very old. The strain of being on the road was beginning to wear me down. I wish we could find a safe place and stay awhile. Maybe this firehouse would work out for at least a few days.

I really missed my wife.

I put on my underwear, pants, and socks and sat down on the bench to rest for a minute or two. The latest zombie attack in the office really took something out of me. My left eye was throbbing, and a general feeling of hopelessness was running through my body. Claire and I could wander for years and never find a safe place to stay. I began to wonder if there was a point to all this walking. Lately, my old, worn out body had started to send signals to give up. The outbreak had taken so much away from me.

The only bright spot was finding Claire. At the very least, it was nice to have a friend to talk to while you go from nightmare to nightmare.

As if on cue, Claire peeked through the curtain of the shower stall. “Oops. Sorry Tiger. I didn’t know you were still getting dressed. It just got a little too quiet. Are you all right? You look a little gloomy.” She put her hand on my bare shoulder.

“I’m all right,” I answered. No sense worrying her with all my problems. I put on my shirt and stood up with a groan. “Let’s get something to eat.”

“Sounds good. You know, you’re in pretty good shape for an older guy,” Claire said looking me up and down. “I mean, my Dad was about your age and didn’t look nearly as good as you.”

I arched my eyebrows, which caused a shooting pain because of my new cut. “Well, I’m on a very strict diet. It’s called the Running-for-your-Life-While-the-World-Ends Diet. It’s very effective.”

Claire’s laughter echoed off the metal walls of our sanctuary. It was fun to make her laugh. It always made me feel a little better. I made a mental note to try and make her laugh as much as possible.

The first thing we did was try to light the wood stove that had been installed in one of the corners of the garage. I broke up a few empty pallets, and piled the wood up in the stove. A little discarded newspaper for a fire starter, and we soon had a warm, smoky fire to warm our hands and bones. Initially, the stove belched out so much smoke into our faces I thought I was going to have to snuff it out. Eventually, it started to draft better, and the smoke cleared.

Next, we turned our attention to the meals-ready-to-eat. Claire decided on “Spaghetti with Meat Sauce,’” and I took a chance on “Chicken and Vegetables.” The MREs were self-contained goodness. They came with a main course, a side dish, some bread or a roll, and a small dessert. They even came with condiments and a powdered drink. I put the main courses in the heater bags and added a little water according to the instructions. After about fifteen to twenty minutes, we were sharing a somewhat hot meal. You know, a lot of soldiers will tell you that MREs are pretty lousy food, but to me, it was one of the best meals I’d tasted in a long time. Claire and I both ate with gusto with no leftovers. After our meal, I made one of the brownie MREs for us to share. It was a little soggy, but really great. We didn’t leave a single crumb.

These were the good times. Plenty of food, warmth, and even a shower. Good times were becoming rarer. I know both of us wanted to stay here for as long as we could, but the undead might have something to say about that.

“God, that was great. I think I might actually be full,” Claire said.

“You said it. We are going to have a take a few of those meals when we leave.” I sat down on a nearby cot.

“Do we really have to leave here? It seems safe.”

I thought about it for a minute. “Well, you know what happened at the store. We could wake up tomorrow, and be waist deep in walking corpses.” I paused for a minute, and looked into Claire’s hopeful little face. “Maybe we can stay here at least until the meals run out.”

With our stomachs full of hot food, we decided to call it a day and sack out. Claire said she felt funny sleeping in a cot that someone else might have slept in, and who may now be gone, so I found some extra cots, pillows, and blankets stacked in a storage locker and set them up by the stove. Claire climbed into her cot, and I covered her with one of the gray, scratchy blankets.