You and Me against the World: The Creepers Saga Book 1 (3 page)

“S-susan, Susan De’antonio.”

“Susan, you and the others start rounding up the babies and bring them to their mothers. Then get the mothers into the hallway and do it quick. Is there anyone who can’t walk?”

“Just one patient, Mrs. Carson in 412. She had complications from her C-section and can’t be moved at all.”

“Damn. Okay, well, get everyone else in the hall, and then we’ll figure this out.”

Clemmons had gotten to his feet with the help of his nurse.

“Have you lost your mind, Thorn?”

“Not yet, and I’m sorry but all hell has broken loose in the ER, and we need to get these mothers and their babies out now.”

“You have no authority here,” the heavyset nurse yelled. “You nurses, do not listen to a word he says.”

The nurses paused for a moment, looked at her and then at Thorn, and then did as he had ordered.

“Well, I’ll just have a look myself at this ER disaster and get security while I’m down there,” Judy said.

“Don’t!” Thorn yelled.

“Why? Are you going to punch me in the face too?”

“Listen, don’t do it. You won’t get back,” Thorn pleaded.

The nurse gave him a contemptuous look and stormed off to the elevator. Thorn never saw her again.

Dr. Clemmons looked confused and uncertain.

“I insist on knowing exactly on what authority you are evacuating my floor.”

“Doctor, there is an infectious epidemic in the ER.”

“All the more reason to keep everyone here,” Clemmons said as he gently inspected the damage to his nose.

“This infection has a particular nasty side effect of extreme violent behavior.”

“Well, I am certain the police and security can handle that.”

“You aren’t listening to me.” Thorn’s anger boiled, and it was all he could do to refrain from hitting the pudgy little doctor again.

“You’re damn right I’m not. Now, you do what you have to. I am going to stay with Mrs. Carson until security arrives to see you out. And I will be pressing charges, Thorn.”

The doctor waddled away toward his patient.

The high unemployment rate provided one benefit. Most of the new moms were in the company of new dads. At first, there were a lot of angry questions and confusion, but as Thorn explained the situation, the men’s protective nature took over, and they appeared ready to defend their families.

The group formed a line in the hall and made their way to the emergency exit staircase. Thorn stopped them when he remembered that they needed to remove the electronic article tags from the sixteen infants. Thorn had almost forgotten about the security tags. It would have meant certain death, because the moment the first tagged child passed through the stairway door, all the doors on the upper and lower floors would lock and an alarm would sound at the security desk. They would remain trapped in the stairwell until a security guard opened the door on the ground floor, verified that the incident was not a kidnapping, and then engaged the lock release.

The extra five minutes the tag removal required didn’t seem important until Dr. Scott Benson awoke.

The former ER doctor was naked and growling when he burst from his room at the end of the hall. Thorn had a moment to curse himself for forgetting Scott was on this floor, and a shorter moment to be grateful that Scott was not between them and their intended exit. The ER doctor grabbed hold of one of the new mothers. She screamed as he dragged her to the floor and began to eviscerate her with his hands and teeth. Like a feral animal protecting its kill, Scott’s wild blue eyes watched the crowd of scrambling people as he ate his victim. The woman’s husband’s initial reaction was to move away with the rest of the crowd, but then he regained his senses and rushed to help his wife. With his new baby in his arms, all he could do was kick at the infected doctor. Thorn knew the woman was lost
.

The group’s shock became desperate panic, and they rushed to the stairway exit. Thorn took a few steps toward the struggling couple, but then his fear held him in place. He felt a moment of shame and conflict, and then Scott grabbed the leg of the kicking husband. The husband’s free leg slipped on the pool of his dead wife’s blood, and he fell with his baby still clutched in his arms. Scott crawled onto the fallen man, and the baby cried. The scene was too much for Thorn, and it was too late to help them. Scott sprayed the father and baby with black bile. Thorn turned away. Now, even if he managed to pull them to safety, he knew there was something worse than death awaiting them in the very near future.

He ran to the exit and followed the others down the stairs.

Open a jar with a hammer

Outside the heat was stifling. The group gathered in uncertainty of their next move. Thorn had no idea; he hadn’t thought beyond the escape from the hospital. He was certain, however, that remaining on the hospital lawn would eventually invite trouble. He could see the traffic on Daniels Parkway moving along, as if the world was still in perfect order. He eyed the emergency room doors, but for now, no one exited.

“Okay, everyone, listen. You need to get out of here. If you had a normal birth and your baby requires no special care, I suggest you go home and make an appointment with your doctor. If you or your baby has had any complications, go immediately to either Lehigh Hospital or Lee County West.”

“But what if the same thing is happening there?” a young, nervous-looking father asked.

“I don’t know. Just be careful and check the ER before you bring your wife and baby inside.”

The group slowly dispersed; they moved toward the parking lot with less urgency than Thorn liked.

He looked at the three nurses who stood in a group and watched him.

Susan spoke first. “Dr. Thorn, what should we do?”

“Honestly?” He looked back at the emergency room door. “I would get the hell out of here, Susan. Go home and wait to see what happens.”

One of the nurses ran to the parking lot.

“But shouldn’t we help?” Susan asked.

“I think the help train left the station a few hours ago.”

Thorn walked toward his own car. He glanced at the ER door as he went, expecting something to burst through it at any moment.

“Dr. Thorn, wait, please,” Susan called.

He turned and for the first time noticed how pretty the pediatric nurse was with her long dark hair, dark eyes, and olive skinned Mediterranean features.

“Rosa and I usually take the bus, but the next one isn’t for an hour.”

“Where do you live?” he asked.

“Downtown, off of Route 41.”

“Come on, I’ll drive you.”

Thorn always parked his Jeep Grand Cherokee at the end of the lot near the street. There was reserved parking for doctors near the hospital’s entrance, but Thorn preferred the short walk. He was happy now that a little distance separated his car from the ER.

They reached the vehicle, and Thorn turned to the nurses.

“Do either of you have a thermometer?”

Rosa laughed. “I do, but in Pediatrics, our thermometers don’t go in your mouth.”

Thorn smiled, but his eyes returned to the ER door and a cold feeling gripped him. He was surprised when Susan gently touched his forehead. Her hand felt soft and cool.

“No fever.”

“A fever would be a blessing. The infection presents as acute hypothermic reaction.”

“Then you’re okay. You’re a little sweaty but feel normal considering the temperature out here,” Susan said.

Her hand remained on his forehead, and he looked at her for a moment longer and then looked away. She dropped her hand, and he unlocked the doors with his key remote.

“Interesting,” said Rosa from the backseat.

Thorn looked over his shoulder at her. “Interesting?”

“Yes, your car. No Mercedes, no Jag, no Land Rover.”

Thorn laughed. It felt good and helped relieve some of the shock.

“I didn’t get into medicine for status.”

Rosa smiled. “Yes, that’s what makes it so interesting.”

She flashed Susan a quick smirk. Susan turned and looked out the window. Thorn saw the blush on her cheeks.

A strange sound escaped Susan’s throat. He followed her gaze to the hospital entrance.

The doors exploded. The safety glass blew out in gummy chunks, and the metal frame twisted and then fell to the cement. A dozen discolored infected faces fought each other to escape the doorway and then broke free onto the sidewalk. It seemed all twenty-four blue-hazed eyes turned toward the Jeep as black ooze drooled from their mouths. The pack ran at the Jeep.

Thorn watched in disbelief as the things approached. In his mind, he was trying to grasp the possibility of what he saw before them. It seemed too soon for so many to have reached this stage of the infection. His second thought was of grade school. The infected’s awkward movement reminded him of something they’d taught in gym class. Before the children learned to skip, they had to learn this
galloping
move, where one leg moved forward and then the other followed. He was stuck on the word for it.
Was it just called a gallop?
he wondered.

A dark shadow passed over the Jeep and it blocked out the sun for a few seconds as if a giant bird had flown overhead. Then the hospital exploded. The sonic heat wave hit the Jeep and rocked it a second before debris and body parts pelted the hood and window.

Rosa screamed.

Thorn’s paralysis broke, and he started the engine. He threw the shifter into reverse and floored the accelerator. The Jeep jumped backward over the curb, and he spun the rear end around, moved the shifter to drive, and sped across the grass toward the lot’s side exit. Through his side window, he saw flames engulf the hospital and dark smoke rise into the sky. Several of the infected had escaped the blast and still galloped through the parking lot. One of the things was on fire, but it continued its awkward run to the street. In the sky, Thorn watched as a military jet made a ninety-degree turn and then flew toward downtown.

From the passenger seat, Susan’s panicked voice asked, “What the hell was that?”

Thorn did not answer. He concentrated on the small roadway that led to Metro parkway, where he would need to take a hard right to get back onto Daniels. However, he did know three things.

The first was that the government was ahead of the curve on this story. He had made his call to the CDC only an hour ago. The quick arrival of the fighter jet meant they already had known what was going to happen; it had just been a question of where. The second fact that was certain was that they had already classified the
virus as an extreme threat. The third was that aggressive containment was their solution.

After 9/11, the hospital had chosen Thorn to serve as point person for the county’s CDC liaison program. He had not wanted the position, but the committee had argued that his particular specialty in blood cancers would be helpful, and that by the nature of his practice, his patients’ care schedules were more easily managed and had fewer emergencies. He could not argue either point and had accepted the position.

During one of the CDC seminars in Atlanta, a military doctor had spoken about situations that would require “aggressive containment.” The doctor, whose suit was adorned with medals, had stated that “in a situation whereas there is the danger of exponential spread of a terminal virus, the government would need to use aggressive containment measures to ensure the health and safety of the public at large.”

A young doctor from Berkeley had asked for a more specific definition of this proposed and hypothetical aggressive containment. The response had been chilling.

“Any means necessary to completely and successfully eradicate the virus.”

No one believed that such a situation would ever occur or that any sane politician who hoped for reelection would authorize such measures.

Apparently, they had been wrong on both accounts.

Thorn made the turn onto Metro and stayed in the right-hand lane.

“No, you need to go left,” Susan yelled from the passenger seat. “My apartment is that way.”

“Susan, we can’t go downtown. I’ll take you to my house.”

“No, no, we have to. I live with my mom, and she can’t stay by herself.”

Thorn hit the brakes and stopped short of the intersection. He turned and looked at her.

“Susan, it’s too late.”

“What? No, it’s not. Those … those things can’t get downtown quicker than we can.”

Thorn took her hand; it was a poor attempt to comfort her, and he hated himself for what he was about to point out.

“Susan. Look over those trees toward downtown. What do you see?”

She looked for a moment, began to speak, and then tears filled her eyes.

“Why?” she whimpered.

Large plumes of black smoke rose into the sky above the downtown area. Several fighter jets circled away over the Gulf.

“It’s called aggressive containment. The military is bombing every area with a high likelihood of infection. How close did you live to Lee West Hospital?”