Psych Ward Zombies (7 page)

Janet, Dave, and Chester gathered in E Ward’s chart room, while the ward’s two orderlies finished piling the last remaining pieces of furniture in front of the door. Mert settled uneasily in front of her crossword again
.

Things seemed to be secure, yet Janet still felt uneasy.
“Guys,” she whispered. “Do you smell something?”

Dave and Chester each drew in wafts of air, noting the now-familiar stench of death. Dave nodded grimly to Janet, adding, “Who?
”

They all took turns discretely investigating each other’s body odors. They looked like dogs greeting each other by sniffing butts. Silently, they looked to one another, confirming that the source of the odor was not one of their group. Then, in unison, they all turned to look at Mert. She sat with her back to them, pondering over her puzzle
.

Janet walked around to the front of the nursing desk to get a close look at Mert’s face. “Um, Mert, how are you feeling” she asked.

Mert looked up. “Fine, dear, although I’m still a little disturbed by your large friend’s lack of manners.” The remark was punctuated by a wheezy, wet cough. “Oh my, I must be coming down with something,” she rattled.

The trio of friends shared another look, knowing that the odor’s point of origin had now been identified. Chester turned and stalked off down the corridor. As he left, he mumbled, “You guys deal with this.”

Mert directed her attention back to the crossword, but asked nonchalantly, “What did he mean by that?”

“Nothing, ma’am. It’s all under control,” Dave replied
.

It was anything but under control. What were they going to do about Mert?

Dave looked to Janet for an answer. Janet stood directly in front of Mert, but Mert’s focus was absorbed in the crossword. Janet discretely made a twisting movement with her hands, which Dave correctly interpreted as a suggestion to break the old lady’s neck. Dave imagined himself walking up behind a helpless, fragile senior citizen and performing a ninja-style execution. The idea made him feel like a monster himself, so he responded by shooting Janet a repulsed, irritated look. Janet shrugged. Leaving Dave to deal with the unpleasant task, she walked down to the end of the corridor and summoned the kids for a story. She knew the kids did not need to see what was about to happen. The orderlies came along to hear the story, since they had nothing else to do and were eager to spend some time with the attractive nurse.

Dave was left alone with Mert. He stood behind her, pacing with quiet agitation. Battling a zombie is one thing, but killing an infected old lady was something else entirely. He walked out into the corridor and looked around for an idea. He saw Chester raiding the supply closet and started in that direction. Chester had already finished with the closet and met Dave coming the other direction. Chester held a mop, much like the one he had used on D Unit earlier in the evening
.

“Uh, hey,” Dave whispered. “Is there anything in that closet I could use to
...?” His voice trailed off.

“To do what?
”

Dave motioned toward the nursing station with his eyes. “You know.”

“Oh, yeah. There’s all kinds of good stuff,” Chester replied, twirling his mop like he was wielding a broadsword. “We’ve got brooms, window cleaner, buckets. Hey, I know. You could drown her in a mop bucket.” Dave did not find the suggestion helpful.

Dave walked to the closet and did some browsing with the flashlight while Chester returned to the nursing station. He immediately saw a 25 foot extension cord and was delighted with the idea that sprang to mind. He would slip up behind Mert and tie her up with the cord. Then, if and when she turned into a zombie, he would have no problem dispatching her. It would be too easy. There is much less ethical uncertainty in killing someone who has already turned into a zombie. Dave grabbed the cord and looped it over his forearm. As he walked back, he felt a great sense of satisfaction knowing the problem would be solved as humanely as possible
.

When he returned to the nursing station, things were basically how he had left them. Mert was still sitting in her chair. The crossword puzzle still sat in front of her on the desk, and the pen remained tightly clutched in her bony hand. However, something had changed in the interim since he had gone to the supply closet. Dave realized it was probably the piece of broken mop handle that was now protruding from the back of Mert’s head. She was slumped over and blood pooled on the desk and floor.

Dave looked up and saw Chester standing behind her. Chester held up the other half of the mop handle that contained the mop head. He offered it to Dave and said casually, “You might want to clean that up, Doc.”

“What the hell happened, Chester?
”

Chester shrugged his shoulders
glumly. “I came back here and she growled at me. The old bitch literally growled at me. I didn’t want her biting me with her creepy-ass dentures, so I did what needed to be done.” It was true. Despite his affinity for fighting, Chester had no desire to actually hurt anyone who was innocent. In the wrestling ring he had a reputation for being brutally violent, but in his church and community he was known for his kindness and compassion toward others.

While Janet, the E Ward orderlies, and the kids were busy down at the end of the hall, Dave fetched the mop bucket and some spray cleaner. The blood was easy enough to scrub away, but the 95 pound corpse of a zombie nurse could not just be swept under a rug somewhere. The death of the elderly nurse seemed essentially justified, but explaining that to ten emotionally fragile kids might be problematic
.

Dave walked over t
o a nearby day room and grabbed a 50 gallon wheeled trash can. He rolled it back the nursing station and gave a quick gesture to Chester. Chester understood the unspoken plan. He picked Mert’s body up and deposited it rather unceremoniously in the receptacle. The body went in head first, with legs dangling out the top. Chester was required to forcefully reposition some of Mert’s limbs in order to get the lid closed. Her body was twisted in ways that would make a contortionist cringe. Of course, Mert did not complain. Dave rolled the can into the corner and placed a stack of medical charts on top. Problem solved.

Dave walked over to the corridor and saw that Janet was still telling a story at the far end of the hall. Although she did not have kids of her own, Janet was good at telling stories and entertaining youngsters. She had found this talent particularly handy at certain times - for example when keeping children distracted while someone else killed a zombie nurse and hid the body. Dave decided to walk down the hall and let Janet know the deed was done. He approached quietly, not wanting to interrupt the flow of her story. He stood behind the orderlies and listened.

“... And then the fairy princess punched the zombie in the face. The blow knocked the zombie’s head off his shoulders and it landed in a pig pen. The pigs ate the head and it made them fart!” Janet blew raspberries into the palm of her hand, simulating porcine flatulence. The kids were rolling with laughter. Dave chuckled too. The orderlies grunted and wheezed. “The princess then went and bought the pigs some gas masks, so they wouldn’t have to smell their own toots!” More laughter, more raspy moans.

Dave stepped closer to the two orderlies, listening to confirm what he had just heard. His scrutiny of the men revealed not only irregular breathing, but also the spasmodic movements and wretched odor he now knew so well. Dave made a subtle motion to Janet, gesturing for her to keep going with the story. While Janet continued captivating the children, Dave grabbed both orderlies by the backs of their shirts and pulled the stuporous zombies away from the children. Janet saw what was happening, and she became even more animated in her story-telling. She hoped her voice would cover up the noise of the shuffling corpses as Dave lured them toward the other end of the corridor.

Dave was faced with the task of getting the zombies to follow him while trying not to draw the attention of the children. He quietly danced around, pointed at himself, made faces, and officially became the most annoying mime ever. Zombies apparently do not like being annoyed by mimes, because they began lurching toward Dave with the intent to eat him. Dave led the zombies to the area of the nursing station, hoping Chester would be able to provide some assistance. Chester, however, was nowhere to be found.

Dave scanned his environment in desperation. One of the day rooms had a doorway leading to an outdoor playground surrounded by a huge metal fence. The fence was too tall and slippery to be scaled. However, Dave saw this as a way to at least get the zombies outside and away from the kids
.

He walked backward to the door. He was careful to maintain a safe distance from the zombies, while still keeping them close enough to retain their attention. He pushed the door open behind him and stepped outside. The door was attached to an automatic closer, but it was slow enough to allow the two zombies through before shutting behind them. Dave led the zombies around to the far side of the playground and then bolted between the swings and monkey bars to return to the door
.

The door was locked
.

“Why would they lock the outside doors of a mental hospital? People are trying to get out, not in!” Dave thought to himself. He peered in the window but saw no one. He banged on the door, but he knew that Janet and the kids were too far away to hear.

The zombies continued their pursuit, each coming from a different direction. By the time Dave turned around to notice, he was almost trapped. He ran between them and almost got through cleanly. However, one of the zombies managed to get a firm grip on Dave’s sleeve. Dave struggled, dragging the clutching zombie away from the other zombie so he would only have to fight one at a time. He punched the zombie in the face repeatedly and even kicked it in the groin. The lack of response indicated that zombies do not feel pain, even in their jimmies.

The zombie lunged at him, while still keeping a death grip on Dave’s sleeve. Dave used this to his advantage by dodging backward and pulling the attached zombie off balance. The zombie fell to the ground but did not release its grip. It began trying to pull itself up by Dave’s sleeve. Dave tugged on the front of his shirt, popping the buttons off with some effort. Once his shirt was open, he slipped it off. The zombie was left on the ground, gnawing on the fabric of the shirt.

Dave ran back to the far side of the playground and yelled at the zombies. He continued yelling and waving his arms until both zombies were chasing him again. Once the zombies were lured far enough away from the building he circled back to the door. He looked through the window, again seeing no one. He pounded on the glass and screamed at the top of his lungs, but there was no indication that anyone could hear him. Lest he be trapped by the zombies again, he lingered at the door only a short time before fleeing across the playground again. He repeated this cycle several more times with no success. Running back and forth was wearing him out, so he decided to seek higher ground. The centerpiece of the playground was a large wooden playscape that resembled a pirate ship. It had a rope mesh along one side that served as a ladder for climbing. From the deck of the ship, a wooden ladder led to a crow’s nest. A long steel slide led back to the ground from the crow’s nest.

Dave climbed up the rope mesh to the main deck of the ship. The zombies stumbled up to the mesh but did not seem to understand the concept of climbing. Dave sighed in relief. He was relatively safe atop the playground equipment, but he was stuck there. He had a flashback to his childhood where he and his friends would play a game called “Pirate Ship”. It involved climbing atop a piece of furniture and pretending that the floor was water filled with sharks. If you touched the floor, it meant you were eaten by the sharks. Somehow the nostalgia he felt for this game had lost its luster in this moment. Playing the game with zombies instead of sharks was much less fun than he had remembered
.

His goal now was to get the attention of someone inside the building. He spent about five minutes shouting at the top of his lungs, but eventually hoarseness overtook his ability to yell. He took off his shoes and threw each one as hard as possible at the door, hoping the noise would draw attention. He tossed his wallet and cell phone at the door too. The sound of the objects hitting the door did not elicit any response from within.

From his perch atop the wooden ship, he could see into the window of this door where he had been throwing his personal belongings. The interior of the building was only partly lit, but his night vision was relatively spared by the lack of ambient light. Through the window, he could spy the nursing station. A hint of movement caught his eye. He strained to see who, or what, it was. A large figure took shape, carrying some sort of white object. Dave held onto the rigging of the ship and leaned out as far as he could, hoping to get a closer look. The moving figure was Chester. Chester had just emerged from a small room off the side of the nursing station, carrying a newspaper and flashlight. He hitched up his pants and seemed to buckling his belt.

Dave considered running to the door again. He looked down at the ground and saw one of the zombies was positioned between him and the door. Dave scanned left and right, looking for the second zombie who had seemingly vanished from the playground. He spun around frantically in an effort to locate the missing ghoul. He suddenly realized that the rope mesh was not the only means of accessing the ship’s deck. There was also a long wooden plank leading up the other side of the ship. The incline of the plank was so gradual that a zombie could easily shuffle up to the deck. The other zombie had discovered the plank before Dave did, and was already within about 6 feet of his position. Dave scrambled up the ladder to the crow’s nest and began yelling for Chester. Chester stood at the nursing station desk, oblivious to what was happening outside
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