Aftermath (34 page)

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Authors: D. J. Molles

BOOK: Aftermath
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Doc rolled onto his back and those weird eyes looked right at Milo. The skinny man smiled and blood pooled behind his lips, staining his teeth. It was a wicked smile, a sneer that said he knew something they didn’t know.

His voice was a thready whisper. “You’re all gonna die. You’re all gonna die...tonight...tonight...”

And with those last words, Doc faded away.

Everyone stood in silence for a moment until a heavy breath bubbled out of Big G’s mouth and speckled his face with red.

Milo threw his hands up, still holding the knife. “Fuck!” He stared at the two bodies in bewilderment, tapping the blade of his knife against his thigh. A thought seemed to occur to him and he pointed to two of his men. “If he’s out, Lee’s out! Check the room!”

The two men hauled off to the room down the hall.

Milo pointed his knife at Shumate. “How much longer until your generator runs out of fuel?”

As if on queue, a steady hum that no one had noticed up to that point suddenly ceased to vibrate the air, and just for a second, the emergency lights flickered. Milo’s men looked around stupefied, while every member of the Smithfield group let out a collective gasp of dismay, because they knew exactly what that meant.

Shumate began to visibly shake. “I think that was it.”

 

 

CHAPTER 19: OVERRUN

 

Lee was halfway across the lobby when the power went out.

He hadn’t noticed the constant hum that filled the air until it died and left him feeling like his hearing had just gone out. He stopped in his tracks when that happened and looked around. The ubiquitous red emergency lights flickered and then dimmed.

A subtle
whirring
sound came from the front of the lobby and instantly the lobby was filled with the maniacal screams of the infected as they fought to get over the barricades. When Lee spun, he found himself exposed to the outside world, the thin wall of shatter-proof glass that comprised the main entrance to Johnston Memorial Hospital had used its last bit of battery power to slide open, ignorant that their safety function was not saving the occupants of the building but dooming them.

Beyond those gaping, open doors, at least a hundred infected had managed to get inside the barricade, and when the doors slid aside, a hundred pairs of eyes locked on the opening like a predator picking out the sick antelope in the herd. Without pausing to think—because they didn’t think, they just acted—they all began sprinting for the opening.

It was almost like Lee’s adrenaline glands had been tapped out. The only thing he felt was a dull ache of disappointment and his earlier words echoed in his mind:
it can never be easy
. He looked desperately around the room as the dark shapes of the infected loped towards him, sodden tatters of clothing hanging off of them in ribbons, trailing behind them like kite runners.

Lee crossed the room in three quick steps and grabbed one of the gurneys huddled in the corner. He didn’t have time to be respectful of the body lying beneath the darkly stained sheet. He twirled the bed around and shoved it at the door to the stairwell, constantly glancing to his side as he ran, checking to see how close the infected were.

Too close.

He slammed the gurney into the door, flinging it wide and causing the body to jitter and nearly topple off. Some horrid gas trapped in the corpse was jarred by the impact and came out of the thing in a gush of warm, noxious air that nearly made him retch. The gurney barely fit into the bottom landing of the stairwell, the head of it jamming against the door that had been welded shut. There was maybe an inch of clearance between the foot of the gurney and the frame of the door to the lobby. It was effectively stuck in the position. If Lee wanted to get the door to the lobby closed, it was going to take some jostling.

Behind him a feral growl echoed through the lobby and he knew without having to look that they had made it inside. Lee leapt over the gurney and into the stairwell, landing hard on his shoulder, feeling a pop and a tingling sensation in his fingers. He rolled onto his back just as the first infected hit the open door, its eyes wide and wild, trying to climb over the gurney after him.

Lee let out an involuntary cry and yanked the pistol from his waistband, firing three times into the infected’s chest, knocking it backwards off the gurney and directly into a second infected. This second mad creature tried to scrabble for purchase by grabbing the doorframe but couldn’t quite get a grip and fell back, hissing.

Lee jumped to his feet and yanked the gurney out of doorframe, then reached across the putrid smelling body still strapped to it and slammed the stairwell door closed. The door hadn’t even closed completely before it shot open again, stopping only because it slammed into the corner of the gurney as Lee tried to push the damn thing in place to block the door. A wiry hand shot through the narrow opening and grabbed a hold of Lee’s arm, trying to pull him through.

Lee stuck the muzzle of the pistol into the opening and fired three more times without looking. The hand on his arm didn’t let go, but the grip loosened enough that Lee was able to extricate himself. He slammed the door closed on the arm with as much strength as he could muster and heard bones crack. The infected’s arm spasmed and slipped back out through the door. Breathing heavily, Lee shut the door with both hands and used his hip to nudge the gurney in place. Now the foot of the gurney was wedged against the inner door, and the head of the gurney against the outer door, effectively blocking the door off. It wasn’t a tight enough fit, and would eventually rattle out of the way as the infected on the other side continued to assault the door. But it would buy him some time.

Lee squeezed past the gurney and bolted up the first flight of stairs. When he reached the landing and turned the corner someone was standing at the top, pointing a rifle at him. Lee nearly fell backwards off the stairs, but caught himself on the banister as he brought his pistol up, finger already squeezing the trigger.


Captain?”

The only thing that stayed Lee’s trigger finger was the gray and tan digital pattern of ACU camouflage, which in the recesses of Lee’s subconscious mind, still meant “friend.” Lee gasped as he lowered his pistol, realizing how close he’d come to putting two holes in LaRouche’s head.


Sergeant!” He sucked in air. “What the fuck?!”

LaRouche ported the rifle—Lee’s rifle, he realized—and took two steps down from the landing he stood on. “Jesus Christ, Captain! I almost fucking shot you!”


What the hell is going on out there?” Lee bounded up the last few steps. “Where’s Harper and Miller? Did they make it out?”


Yeah,” LaRouche put a hand to Lee’s shoulder to steady him. “They both got out, and they got the supply truck, too. That was the fireball that went off. It was an accident, but it happened when we came back to get the supply truck.”


What?” Lee realized he sounded furious, but actually felt a measure of pride for what Harper and Miller had pulled off. What a couple of regular GI Joes. “Are you kidding me?”

LaRouche smiled. “Naw. We used one of your claymores, hope you don’t mind.”


Shit,” Lee rubbed his face, trying to process everything. “So how’d you get back inside?”


Busted a window on this floor. Radiology, I think.” LaRouche moved to the door that led to the second level of the hospital. “No one comes down here. I was just getting back inside when I heard the gunshots from the stairwell and came running over. Man, I’m glad to see you.”

Lee nodded rapidly. His plan was changing even as he stood there and processed what he had learned. Escaping the hospital was being moved to the back burner. The lobby below them was filling with infected even as they spoke. Those infected would eventually find ways to get upstairs.

Lee looked at LaRouche. “How many other emergency stairwells are there?”


One other in this wing of the building.” LaRouche pointed through the doorway to the opposite side of the building. “It’ll be on the east side.”


None of the stairwells are secure, are they?”

LaRouche shook his head then seemed to register the banging below. “Aw, fuck...they’re in the lobby aren’t they?” and then louder, “Dammit, we ran out of fuel, didn’t we?”

Lee pushed him through the doorway and onto the second floor, letting the door swing closed behind them. “I got the door blocked, but they’re gonna find the other stairwell soon.”

LaRouche paced, shaking his head. “It was the explosion and the fireball. It must’ve attracted every infected in the city.”


I know,” Lee smacked his shoulder. “It’s done and over. We need to figure out a way to get out of here.”

LaRouche pointed above them. “We gotta talk to Julia. She’s got the radio to Camp Ryder. We can get them to help us.”

Lee grimaced. “I don’t know how much help they can be.”

LaRouche began walking. “I still need to find Julia. I’m not gonna leave all these people here to get ripped to shreds by infected or shot by Milo’s goons.”

Despite Lee’s desire to get the fuck out of town, he had to admit that LaRouche was right. The average survivor taking refuge in the hospital wasn’t responsible for Lee’s incarceration, nor did they wish to align themselves with Milo, from what he’d seen. On the contrary, they all seemed to loathe him, and they seemed to loathe Shumate even more because he subjected them to Milo’s whims.


How many floors up is Julia?” Lee asked.


Just one,” LaRouche poked a thumb up. “Right above us.”


Alright,” Lee glanced between the pistol in his hands and the M4 in LaRouche’s arms, and the look did not escape the sergeant.


You want your rifle back?” He held the weapon out to Lee.


Yes,” Lee smiled, like he was being reunited with a friend. He handed the pistol over to LaRouche and grabbed the rifle. As he reached out, though, a shock of pain ran down his arm from his shoulder, causing him to nearly drop the rifle. “Shit!” His free hand instinctively reached up to touch his shoulder.

LaRouche held his hands out as though he were preparing to catch Lee if he passed out. “You okay, Cap?”

Lee rolled his shoulder a few times to loosen up the tense pain there. “Yeah, I’ll be alright.” It felt like soft-tissue damage. Nothing serious. He jerked his head down the hall. “We need to roll. You lead the way.”

LaRouche slipped the extra pistol in an empty pouch on his vest and went to his Beretta M9, which he obviously felt more comfortable with. Moving with controlled speed, he led them through the floor cautiously. Lee’s bad tidings of hordes of infected one floor beneath them had made him think that perhaps radiology was not as abandoned as he thought.

They passed the ever-present cream colored medical devices that stood only as memories of a time when a hospital wasn’t a place for people to hide, but a place for people to heal. Each one of these unknown devices that Lee passed by was probably worth several thousand dollars, but now they lay discarded and gathering dust in a dark and empty radiology department that would probably never see the amount of electricity that had made it useful to begin with. At least not for a very long time.

They reached the other side without incident and approached the eastern emergency stairwell. They stopped at the door and listened to what lay beyond, but it was only dark silence huddling there, holding its breath.

Lee covered him while LaRouche opened the door and stepped through. This stairwell was as dark as the other and Lee had to again use his flashlight to illuminate the hollow space above and below them. When the white light pierced the still redness, nothing reacted by screeching or rushing towards them.

LaRouche’s voice was a low whisper, fear taking the volume out of him. “Should we go down there? You know...block off the door?”


No,” Lee said. “I don’t see anything we can use to barricade the door, and we don’t have time.” He thought about using a gurney like he had on the other stairwell, but there was no way in hell he was going back into the lobby now. “We need to focus on getting everyone out of this place.”

LaRouche didn’t look like he was in love with the idea of turning his back on a door that might burst open at any moment and let a horde of infected through, but he turned and took the stairs to the next level without further comment. Behind him, Lee followed, still shining his flashlight down into the gloom.

The next level up held another door. LaRouche pulled it open slightly and poked his head through. From the other side, Lee could hear the sounds of people, the steady murmur of urgent conversations. They weren’t shouting, because they weren’t panicked just yet, but it was clear that many people were expressing many viewpoints. The sergeant took in whatever he saw and seemed to decide that it was safe. He pulled the door open and the two of them stepped through onto the third level of the hospital.

The smell was the same as the building in Camp Ryder: dirty clothes, dirty bodies, and a faint sewer smell underlining everything. This level was slightly better lit than radiology, due to a large bank of eastern-facing windows to their right. The layout was different than the fourth floor where Lee had initially come from. The whole wing of the hospital was a rectangular shape, the short sides facing approximately north and south, and the long sides facing east and west. The south-facing side was occupied by offices, the north-facing side by a bank of elevators. The outer walls of the east and west sides were just windows, while the inside was a block of hospital rooms. A nurses’ station was at the mouth of a hallway that bisected the block of hospital rooms.

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