Psych Ward Zombies (12 page)

Clusters of neurons sputtered with activity in Chester’s brain as he regained his senses with an audible gasp. He was still on the floor in front of the utility room door, but he was now lying horizontal. Sticky, coagulated blood covered the side of his head. He felt like he had just emerged from a coma, but he had no idea how long his mind had been offline. He sensed that something was missing from his being, like he was already partially dead. He was aware that his body and brain were rotting from the inside out, and this knowledge shook him to his core. Chester suddenly felt powerless and afraid. His rage and desire for revenge were both being trampled by a sense of frantic desperation.

He feared dying
.

He feared becoming a zombie
.

He feared that the infection could spread beyond the hospital
.

Most of all, he feared the possibility that he could hurt someone innocent.

A single thought clicked in his brain and he instantly knew exactly what he had to do. He had to kill all the zombies in the short time he had left. He was not sure, however, how to complete this task. Chester’s mind searched for an answer within the parts of his brain that remained intact. While he deliberated, his eyes roamed about the room. The utility room was filled with various control panels, switches, levers, and tools. An assortment of pipes spread out along the walls.

One pipe stood out from the others, drawing Chester’s attention. It was a large iron pipe painted dull black. It entered the room through the floor and rose to the ceiling before taking a 90 degree turn. His eyes followed the pipe to its destination at the large emergency generator. The generator hummed softly, turning the flow of natural gas from the pipe into electricity for the emergency lights. In a flash, his mind achieved one last moment of clarity
.

The large iron pipe stopped just prior to the generator. A short section of flexible corrugated stainless tubing bridged the gap between the pipe and generator. Chester had worked for the utility company a few years ago, and he was familiar with the setup. He knew the heavy iron pipe was difficult to bend or break, but the flexible tubing could simply be disconnected
.

The zombie outside was no longer trying to get the door open, so Chester crawled to his feet and picked up a large adjustable wrench. He placed the wrench on the nut that held the stainless tubing in place and adjusted the jaws of the wrench to fit the nut tightly. He left the wrench situated atop the nut and stepped over to a control panel, where he pulled a large red lever. The emergency generator sputtered to a stop and the entire hospital was plunged into total darkness. Chester felt his way back to the generator through the pitch black room. He found the wrench handle and began loosening the nut on the natural gas line.

*
* *

Janet and Dave were standing on the turf just outside the hospital building. They counted the children in the moonlight to make sure everyone was present. After all they had been through, they did not want to lose any of the children due to simple carelessness.

After the successful head count, Dave looked over to the parking lot. He felt a thrill of excitement and imagined getting into his truck. His mind projected the image of the road passing beneath him, illuminated by his headlights. Little yellow lines passed by on his left. The glow of the dashboard washed over his face. He would drive to safety and nothing could stop him. He reached into his pocket to produce his keys. His pockets were empty, aside from a pocketknife and a partially squished doughnut inside a rubber glove
.

“Uh, Janet? What kind of car are you driving these days?” he asked hesitantly. He already knew Janet drove a Mazda Miata. She loved to talk about her little red two-seater convertible. Dave was hoping maybe she had recently traded it in on a Chevy Suburban
.

“My Miata,” she replied. She was very proud of her car, so her voice projected a mild enthusiasm. However, the context of Dave’s question caught up to her, and her voice faltered. “Oh no. Your keys are locked in your office, aren’t they?”

The two adults looked at the ten children. No matter how they did the math, there was no way to divide twelve people among the two seats in the Miata. It hardly mattered anyway. Janet had left her keys inside her purse on B Ward.

Dave scanned the parking lot, looking for a miracle. Maybe someone had parked a bus there with the keys in the ignition. Maybe a helicopter just happened to be waiting to pick someone up. Maybe a convoy of flying pigs could carry them to safety.

His search for transportation was interrupted by a sudden sharp pain in his ear. He thought maybe a mosquito had bitten him, so he swatted his ear with his hand. It took him a second to notice a small piece of his ear was missing and his hand was covered in blood.

“What the
...?”

The ground at his feet exploded with a shower of grass particles and dirt, followed a split second later by a sharp cracking noise. It was not until the third shot hit the hospital wall beside him that Dave realized someone was firing a gun at him. Suddenly panicked, he had no idea where the bullets were coming from.

“Everybody run! Someone’s shooting at us!” he yelled. The children ran screaming in all directions. Most headed for the tree line surrounding the hospital. Janet ran after the children, yelling for them to regroup once inside the deep cover of the trees.

Dave fled toward the parking lot. He kept a .38 Special revolver under the seat of his truck. Weapons were not allowed on hospital property, but Dave felt confident his vehicle would
not be searched. He ran to the driver’s door and reflexively reached for his keys again. Frustrated, he decided to break the window. The parking lot was nearly pristine, free of any rocks or other objects that could be used to break glass. Dave drew his arm back, preparing to strike the glass with his elbow. This was going to hurt. Just as he gritted his teeth and began to swing his arm, the glass burst into a cloud of tiny fragments. The window had been shattered by a bullet, which missed his head by mere inches.

Dave was relieved not to pummel his elbow against the glass, but the idea of bullets whizzing by his head provided no comfort. He
climbed up on the running board and reached through the window to unlock his truck’s front door. As he pulled the door open, he ducked behind it to take cover. His hand slid under the driver’s seat and settled on the revolver’s grip. He pulled the gun from its hiding space and turned his focus to locating his attacker.

He scanned both hospital buildings for signs of the sniper. The windows of both buildings were completely dark, and it occurred to Dave that he could no longer see the glow of the emergency lights in the new hospital
.

“That’s odd.
Why did the lights go out?” he wondered to himself. He was distracted by the lack of light, and assumed the shooter must have turned off the emergency power to hide himself in the new building. As his eyes searched the facade of the new hospital, he saw a flash of light from the corner of his eye just as a bullet glanced off the hood of his Land Cruiser. He turned to the source of the flash, remembering the light he had seen earlier in the old hospital building. The flash had come from the same fifth story window.

Dave stayed hidden behind the vehicle door but he peeked out, hoping to catch a glimpse of the shooter. He wondered who would possibly want to shoot at him, but then it occurred to him there was only one possible answer
.

Devlin
.

Devlin had tried to poison him and had turned the hospital into a horde of zombies. It made sense that Devlin would also be the person shooting at him. Dave ducked low and ran to hide behind another vehicle that offered better cover. He figured Devlin was probably using a rifle with a scope, given the distance from which the shots were fired. Dave gripped his snub-nosed Smith & Wesson tightly. He was aware that the effective range of his little gun was measured in feet, as compared to the two hundred yard accuracy of Devlin’s rifle. He
had to even the odds, which meant getting closer.

Dave peered from behind the car and took a quick look at the surrounding terrain. The distance from his location to the old hospital building was about 75 yards, and there was only a meager amount of cover in-between. He ducked his head back down just as another bullet bounced off the fender of the car where he hid. He crawled a few feet to the side and peeked up again, trying to memorize the terrain. He would need to formulate a plan based on quick mental snapshots of what he saw. He made sure never to stick his head up in the same place twice, and to time his peeks at irregular intervals
.

Once he had a good understanding of his path, Dave took a deep breath and began sprinting toward the old hospital. He zigzagged between several cars along the way, stopping at the vehicle that was parked closest to the building. He was now within 30 yards of his goal. He had been moving so quickly that Devlin had not been able to get his sights on him to fire a shot. These last 30 yards would be the toughest. The only cover that lay between his position and the front door was a single telephone pole. Dave debated whether to run to the pole and to try to hide behind it, but instead he decided to make the last leg of his assault in a single dash. He started running directly for the door, but suddenly juked to the right for a few feet and then bolted left. A rifle shot impacted the ground beside him. He continued this snaking pattern until he reached the door. He was out of breath but exhilarated by his success. He was now five floors directly below Devlin, who would have to lean all the way out the window in order to even see Dave. A small architectural awning over the door provided further concealment from above
.

Dave twisted the door handle but it would not turn. It was locked. Dave cursed himself for assuming Devlin had entered through the front door. There was probably an open door along the back or side of the building, but it would involve significant time and risk to find it. Dave raised his revolver and pointed it at the lock. He had seen this done a million times on television. Unfortunately, television never shows you the people who are maimed or killed by bullets ricocheting off antique metal locks. He kept the gun pointed at the lock, but positioned his body as far to the side as possible. He made sure his vital organs and delicate bits up front were shielded away from potential shrapnel. Dave shut his eyes, turned his head, and pulled the trigger.

The report from the gun made his ears ring, and his hand stung from the kick of the lightweight revolver. He checked himself, finding all his appendages intact and no gaping wounds. He looked down at the lock. The bullet had impacted the door’s lock directly at the keyhole. Instead of blowing the lock apart, as Dave imagined it would, it just left a modest dent in the metal. Dave was immensely disappointed. Not only had he wasted one of his five bullets, he now had to find another door. Dave turned and slumped his back against the door in frustration. He abruptly stumbled backward as the door swung open behind him. He fell backward into the hospital foyer, landing on his back. Apparently shooting the lock had worked after all.

The foyer was an area littered with trash and graffiti. A significant amount of vermin excrement covered the floor, and the rank odor suggested homeless vagrants had been relieving themselves in the foyer as well. The remains of an old bonfire blackened one corner of the room
.

Dave regained his feet and looked around at the place he used to work. He always had a strong respect for this old hospital building, so the vandalism offended him on a personal level. Mentally ill people had lived out decades of their lives in this building. It was a home to those people, and a second home to the dedicated doctors and nurses who were trying to help their patients. It did not deserve to become a refuge for hobos and sociopathic hoodlums. He wished the building had been torn down quickly. It deserved a quick and dignified end - unlike the end that Dave had planned for Devlin. He was going to make the old man suffer.

Dave remembered the layout of the old hospital from before it had been decommissioned. The building had five floors. The central part of the hospital was flanked on both sides by a pair of long corridors. This gave the hospital a bow-tie shape. Each of the wings was named after its relation to the central area, which included the Southeast, Northeast, Southwest, and Northwest Wings. Stairwells were located in the central area and at the far ends of each wing.

Devlin’s sniper perch had been on the fifth floor just west of the central area, in the Southwest Wing. Dave decided the central staircase approach was too risky. His concern was that Devlin might have set up an ambush on the central stairs. Dave decided to use the stairs at the end of the Southwest Wing instead. He began cautiously advancing down the hallway.

Bat guano and flaking paint crumbled beneath his feet as he skulked past dozens of doorways lining the corridor. The actual doors had all been removed and sold for salvage. This meant Dave’s path was bordered on both sides by rows of potential hiding places for bad people and bad things. A faint glow of moonlight filtered into the rooms through their vast windows, subsequently spilling out into the hallway through the open doorways. Aside from his footsteps, the building was as silent as a tomb. There was no way to sneak around without being heard, so Dave knew he could not rely on the element of surprise. He kept his revolver at the ready, half-expecting Devlin to pop out of one of the doorways at any moment.

A clattering sound erupted behind him. Dave whirled, raising the gun toward the direction of sound. In the dim light, he saw a human-sized figure move into the corridor about 20 yards away. It moved slowly, with a staggering gait. Dave placed his finger on trigger and applied a slight pressure while aiming the gun at the shadow’s center of mass. The figure seemed to be moving away from him, toward the front entrance. Dave held the gun steady, ready to fire at the indistinct form. It moved into the foyer, where the large windows provided greater illumination. Dave could now discern a man dressed in heavy layers of shabby clothes. The disheveled man was carrying a liquor bottle in one hand and had the unsteady waltz of intoxication. Once he reached the foyer, the man used his other hand to arrange the front of his pants. Dave could hear a stream of liquid splashing against the terrazzo floor of the foyer.

Dave decided the homeless man did not pose a threat, so he lowered the gun and continued on his previous course. As he reached the end of the hall and began ascending the stairs, Dave heard scuttling footsteps somewhere far above him. It sounded possibly human, although he imagined there were probably swarms of enormous rodents living in the building too. He pondered whether he was more scared of a maniac with a gun or of a pack of man-eating rats.

Climbing the stairs seemed to take forever. Each crunching footfall on the stairs felt like a blaring announcement of “Here I am! Come get me!” Thankfully, the trek to the fifth floor was free of further surprises. However, by the time Dave reached the top of the stairs his body was so tense it ached. He stared down the corridor, fixated on the doorway to the room where he figured Devlin had been firing the rifle. There was no detectable movement in the passageway, but Dave heard a muffled cough from one of the rooms ahead of him. The fact that someone was trying to conceal the cough suggested that the person was lying in wait
.

Dave quickly ducked into a room on his right. He searched through the clutter on the floor, looking for an object with some heft. He found an empty whiskey bottle and picked it up. Returning to the corridor, he heaved the bottle as far as possible. The bottle smashed against the floor about three quarters of the way down the hall. The impact of the bottle was followed closely by the figure of a tall man lunging from one of the rooms holding a rifle. The man fired the rifle wildly in the direction of the broken bottle. Dave seized the opportunity the race down the corridor before the rifle-toting man could chamber another round
.

Dave bore down on the man, screaming, “Freeze, you piece of crap!
”

The would-be assassin froze and raised the rifle in the air with both hands. He slowly turned to face Dave, who recognized Devlin immediately. Devlin glowered at Dave under his gargantuan eyebrows. Despite being held at gunpoint, his face expressed a certain detached indifference. He was still wearing his white doctor’s coat, which made him look all the more ridiculous holding the rifle
.

“Ah, Doctor Hexer. I didn’t expect to see you again. I can’t say our meeting is a pleasure,” he said. The echo of his deep voice rumbled through the hallway
.

Dave snarled back, “Well, as a matter of fact, you’re just the man I was hoping to see. You’ve got some explaining to do.”

Devlin smiled coldly in response. “What don’t you understand, Hexer?” The caterpillars above his eyes rose in unison. “Perhaps a zombie apocalypse is too subtle for you?”

Dave pointed the revolver at Devlin’s face. “You keep acting like a smart ass, and I’m going to put a bullet in your head.
”

The threat bounced off Devlin like a pebble. “Please do,” he said, still smiling. “I didn’t unleash zombies on the world so I could live a long and healthy life. Actually, this is the beginning of the end. I plan to die at peace, knowing I was the Torch Bearer. I have led the whole world to its ultimate ruin.” Devlin’s words sounded ridiculous, but Dave sensed the old man was completely serious.

“How do you figure?” Dave asked, rhetorically. “Right now you have a bunch of zombies locked up in a mental hospital. That doesn’t sound like the end of the world to me.”

“Of course not. You are an ignorant fool, Hexer.” Devlin chuckled and continued, “You cannot see the obvious. The day shift will be arriving just minutes from now. They will find the doors locked and will mass outside the building, eager to start their petty business as usual. Once the power is back on at six-thirty, the employees will try to enter and the zombies will greet them with outstretched arms.
That will be a most unpleasant surprise! The employees who are bitten will join the converted, and the number of zombies will multiply. Then my army of walking dead will disperse into the woods. The contagion will spread like ripples in a pond, pulsing outward to the cities and towns. From there, the growth of the army will be exponential!”

Dave jeered, “You’re completely nuts! This is even more crazy than your stupid crush on Luther Crowley!”

The smile on Devlin’s face sank. He scoffed, “Oh, you know about that? I suppose I have nothing to hide at this point. Yes, I did have strong feelings for Luther. However, he did not return my affection. He pushed me away.” Devlin scowled indignantly. “That murdering hypocrite thought he was too good for me, yet he was the one burying bodies in his back yard!”

Dave pressed further. “I suppose you arranged to have him brought here?”

“Imagine my delight when my friends at the state prison informed me of Luther’s situation. The tables turned, and I could have control over him!” Devlin broadcast his voice like a preacher delivering a sermon. Flecks of spit foamed at the corner of his mouth. “Luther will always be very special to me, no matter what. And for that reason, he will serve as a general in my great army!”

Dave was still trying to wrap his mind around all this. “Hold on a second. A couple minutes ago you said the power will be back on at six-thirty. How do you know that?”

Devlin took a step toward Dave, still holding the rifle aloft. His voice grew even louder. “Because I orchestrated all this. I programmed the hospital’s computer system to shut off the power at midnight. I programmed it to turn back on at six-thirty. I procured the toxin and distributed it. I planned it all down to the smallest detail!”

“I’m sure your mama’s very proud of you,” Dave sneered, disgusted by the madman’s words. His temptation to pull the trigger was growing by the second. “Before I splatter your brains on the wall, tell me about the poison you used. Is there a cure?”

“Oh, you wish,” Devlin hissed. “Once the toxin enters the subject’s bloodstream it gets dispersed throughout the body. And by then it’s too late. The toxin deactivates enzymes used in energy metabolism, so the subject begins to starve. The body begins to die from the inside out. The process of internal decomposition is fascinating.” Devlin’s face was animated, projecting a sense of pride in his deadly poison. “But even more fascinating, the metabolic starvation causes an intense hunger for flesh. Eating raw meat provides enough of the essential enzymes to keep the body sustained - at least temporarily. That’s why they attack the living.”

“And you sprinkled this crap on all the food?
”

Devlin shook his head condescendingly. “Of course not.
That would have been far too complicated. I simply sprayed a fine mist on all the silverware and dishes the night before. They leave both those cafeterias unlocked at night, you know. I must admit, however, the doctors’ doughnuts were poisoned directly.”

“Wait!” Dave interrupted. “Both cafeterias? You poisoned the kids too?!” He closed in on Devlin, holding the revolver just inches from Devlin’s face
.

The old man grinned provocatively. The caterpillars appeared to dance atop his face. Interpreting this as Devlin’s affirmation of the evil deed, Dave’s mind reeled. “But the kids didn’t turn into zombies! They’re still normal!”

Devlin rolled his eyes. “If you had paid attention in medical school, you would have learned that children have a different metabolic rate than adults. The toxin just takes longer in kids.” He stared into Dave’s eyes. “I can be patient. How about you?”

Dave continued to hold the gun on Devlin, but pivoted and backed himself into the room where Devlin had been hiding earlier. He moved swiftly to the open window and glanced outside. The sun was just beginning to peer over the horizon, casting a gentle pink glow over the tops of the trees in the surrounding woods. In this first blush of morning, Dave could see the dim outline of the new hospital and the grassy lawn around it. He saw no sign of Janet or the children. He turned his head slightly askew, keeping his eyes on Devlin but directing his voice toward the open window
.

“Janet!” he yelled. “The kids have been poisoned!” He paused briefly to listen. “Janet! Can you hear me?!”

There was no response.