The Phoenix Trilogy (Book 1): World On Fire (29 page)

    “Hey,
Mejhit. How often do people leave? Not just military, but refugees, traders,
anybody.” So far as Natalie could tell, it was the only possibility that made
sense. Maybe people came here, saw what it was like, and opted to try their own
luck. It was then that she noticed the slow and curious look that Mejhit had
fixed her with, and Natalie felt suddenly uneasy.

    “People
don’t leave. Not unless they’re on assignment, and that takes trust that a lot
of folks haven’t earned. It’s for their safety, supposedly. Better off here
than out there, and with martial law, personal choice doesn’t get to make much
of an appearance.” Again, Mejhit seemed to survey Natalie, her posture awkward
and her eyes blank. “Why? Did you want to leave?”

    Natalie
couldn’t tell what it was that had made her feel so on edge, but she knew
instinctively that she needed to say no. There wasn’t any outward threat coming
from the doctor, but something was definitely wrong. Reflexively, Natalie sized
Mejhit up, readying herself for a fight she wasn’t sure was coming.

    “Let’s
leave this conversation for another day. For now, we have work to do, and you
have a lot to learn.” Even when Mejhit had turned away, supposedly dismissing
her previous question without further ado, Natalie remained paranoid. Visions
of men with black bags coming for her in the night played out at the back of
her mind. While she recognized them as being dramatic, one thing remained
clear: this place was not where she wanted to be.

    Whatever
worries Natalie had were left behind as she reentered the main ward. The rush
of activity that had already been overwhelming when she first arrived had
intensified, patients and professionals moving from place to place in a blur of
action. The smell of old death that had pervaded the other wing was replaced
with the stinging scent of bleach and other chemicals, the best solution to
cleansing the equipment between users that could be found, Natalie guessed.

    As
promised, Mejhit shoved a worn plastic poncho into Natalie’s hands and set to
barking orders, intent on imparting whatever wisdom she could in as little
amount of time as possible. Similarly, Natalie held up her end of the bargain,
pulling the rain gear over her clothes and doing everything she could to keep
up or at least out of the way without complaint. Soon enough word had spread,
and she found herself at the bottom of the pecking order.

    Nurses,
doctors, assistants; the facility was too frantic for Natalie to know the exact
titles, but anyone who worked there was perfectly content to run her through
the wringer without a moment’s thought. It was a grueling experience, and for
every dozen things she learned only one of them stuck, but by the end of the
day she was still standing.

    She
hadn’t even realized her shift was up until Mejhit had reappeared, looking even
more disheveled than before, to pull her into what appeared to be the dining
area for the medical staff.

    “Not
bad for a first day. I wouldn’t call it good either, but we take what we can
get.” Mejhit nodded absentmindedly to herself, and Natalie resisted the urge to
snap back. It had been a long day.

    “You’ll
sleep here, we put your gear in the back by one of the bunks, which you’ll
share with your nightshift partner. First thing when you wake up, go into the
dead wing and prepare the bodies there for transport according to the
instructions at the door. Every other day, that’ll be your job.” Mejhit must
have sensed Natalie’s confusion at the mention of having others share her
corpse duties, because she immediately added, “You’ll remain our most
consistent worker, but it’s good for them to have to see the reanimated up
close. Shows them what we’re trying to prevent in here. A good reminder to take
your job seriously.” Natalie scowled at the doctor’s attitude. It was hard to
believe anyone could forget what was on the line.

    “Your
supplies, food, water, whatever, it will all be brought in here, too. You got a
request, write it down on the pad at the foot of your bunk and we’ll see what
we can do.” Natalie almost voiced a protest, but as she had become accustomed
to, she was cut off before she’d made a sound by Mejhit forcefully leading her
toward the dorm.

    “We’ve
got too much work to do to be letting you wander around out there, so get used
to this. You’re going to be stuck with us until this nightmare blows over.”
Whether Natalie had something to say or not, Mejhit didn’t care to stick around
and hear it. The moment she finished speaking, she turned on her heel and left,
leaving Natalie standing alone for the first time in hours.

    Natalie
didn’t need the sudden downtime to realize how worn out she was. The majority
of her day had been a nonstop flurry of action, and she had been dangerously
close to collapsing for most of it.
How anyone could commit their lives to
doing this every day is beyond me. No thank you
.

    Opening
the door into the makeshift dorm revealed a series of beds, hastily thrown
together throughout the room and all occupied save for one. Apparently she had
missed the changing of the staff, and the rest of her co-workers were already
fast asleep. Natalie couldn’t blame them; sleep sounded impossibly rewarding.

    Finding
the bunk meant for her, she confirmed that Mejhit had been right about her gear
being brought inside already. Everything seemed in order, and Natalie began to
feel a little more relaxed until two things occurred to her simultaneously.

    The
first was that she still had a gun in her jacket, which she had forgotten in
all of the ruckus of the day. Unlike earlier, when she had been worried about
being caught smuggling, her new concern was where to keep it to ensure she
could use it if the time came. That seemingly necessary precaution brought a
frustrated sigh with it.

    Although
Mejhit had been perfectly amicable for the rest of the day, Natalie was unable
to shake the feeling that she needed to be ready for something. Unable to find
a more satisfying hiding place, she settled on keeping the weapon where it was,
confident that it wouldn’t become an issue.

    Considering
how poorly equipped the facility was, it didn’t appear as if they were in any
shape to enforce a dress code, so she would probably be able to continue
wearing her coat without any concern. Having a weapon within arm’s reach was a
thought that did a lot to ease the mysterious tension Natalie felt haunting the
edges of her thoughts.

   Her second
realization was that BJ and the others were supposed to have gotten a hold of
her sometime during the day. Whether they had tried and been unable to, or
simply forgotten, Natalie had no way of knowing.

    It
was a strange feeling, being removed from the others. Just as curious was her
attachment to the group, in spite of the relatively short time they had spent
together. Natalie could remember reading a long time ago that being in dire
circumstances could make a person feel emotions more intensely than they
normally would, but that didn’t seem like the right answer.

    Collapsing
into her bunk with a contented groan, Natalie mulled over her situation, slowly
creating a plan. She enjoyed being in the field with the others; why that was
the case wasn’t important. The fact remained that, even during the most trying
or dangerous parts of her journey here, she had been excited on some level.

    The
work she had done here in the medical ward had been intense, and undeniably
important, but it wasn’t enough. It lacked something, and when Natalie finally
settled on what it was, she chuckled into the bed.

    She
needed the fight. Over two decades of her life had passed her by, and through
it all, she had never once thought of herself as someone who would enjoy
conflict, but it was true. The urge to go back outside, to be running with BJ,
Marco, and Rico again… it was like an addiction. It was a feeling more
exhilarating than anything else she had ever known.

    Which
meant she needed to be able to bring something to the table, some talent or
utility that could match up with the rest of the gang. As much as she loved the
feeling of pitting her wits against the undead, she knew that it was mostly the
work of the others that had allowed her to survive. She would learn, and
eventually be able to hold her own if needed, but she couldn’t expect anyone to
take her along just for the sake of it.

    Natalie
smiled, her careful consideration of her options slowly being replaced with
daydreams of the future. She would learn everything she could from Mejhit here
in the ward, and when she was ready, she’d return to BJ and offer her services
as a field medic. From there, she’d watch the others. Absorb every piece of
survival knowledge that they had, until she was just as capable as any of them.

    Sleep
finally began to settle in as she pictured herself alongside the others, each
being awarded medals for their services. It was a warming image, and as she
drifted off, she felt hopeful. She would make that dream happen, and it started
tomorrow. Of that, she was certain.

Dear
Journal: It has been a long and painful week.

Or at least, I’m guessing
it’s been a week now, it’s hard to tell exactly. I haven’t actually had a
chance to stop and think since I first showed up for my assignment and met
Mejhit.

Every day has been spent
either working or getting ready for work, and after a while you stop caring
about how much time has passed. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining about
how busy I’ve been. Honestly, the nonstop schedule has been kind of a blessing.

It made it a lot harder to
dwell on some of the things that have gone on here in the medical ward, for
one. I know that I swore I’d learn everything I could from the people here
before I contacted BJ about joining his crew, but I’m burning out. This place
is a nightmare.

Handling the zeds isn’t so
bad. You know what they are, how they work, all of that. Sure, it’s gruesome,
but it isn’t personal. Even when I wasn’t sure if Marco had been infected, or
when I thought we’d lost Rico, there was a part of me that understood this was
what they had signed up for. They had chosen to be a part of that horrible
world, knowing full well what that could mean.

Here, all you do is deal
with people who have spent God knows how much time doing everything in their
power to avoid the threats outside. When somebody comes in, you know there
isn’t a silver lining to the story. They didn’t get hurt trying to fight the
good fight, or get sick from starvation because they insisted others should eat
before them.

No. They got hurt because
they were trampled in the crowd, and they starved because somebody stole
everything they had while they were down. That’s the world they live in, and it
was never their decision.

The whole time you’re trying
to put this person back together, you’re doing it knowing they aren’t a
soldier. Eventually you realize that as soon as you’re done patching them up,
they’re just going to go back outside and get the Hell beat out of them again.
All of that assuming you’re actually lucky enough to be able to save them in
the first place. If you couldn’t…

There is a part of me that
believes, someday, I’ll be used to dealing with the undead outside. That I’ll
be able to handle them, and everything they can throw at me. But having to deal
with people who are alive, still desperately clinging to their lives even when
you know they don’t have a shot anymore, that’s a fucking horror show unlike
anything else.

It got to the point where
you could tell, just from looking at somebody, whether they were sick or
infected. There’s something about them that you can start to pick up on, and
for better or for worse, I’ve got a talent for it. I didn’t think that would
matter, until I found out our chemical swabs don’t work.

Supposedly, it’s a pretty
normal occurrence, according to Mejhit. Marco had been right about one thing;
the virus changes fairly often. Whenever it does, all of our old monitoring
techniques could basically be thrown out the window, including our swabs.

Looking back, I should have
realized something was up. Taking a swab and putting it straight into a wound
sounds okay in theory, but think about it.

One of the biggest things to
look for in an outbreak is somebody that is immune to the virus. By taking
swabs and shoving them into open wounds, which probably have contaminants stuck
in them, you’re running the risk of getting a false-positive. If we honestly
had the ability to tell who was compromised and who wasn’t, we’d be cleaning
the wounds beforehand to make certain, or swabbing the mouth, instead.

Hell, the only reason we
don’t try to detect the infection through spit is because we know we can’t rely
on the information anyway and blood “seems more believable.”

I wish I were making that
up, but it came straight from Mejhit’s mouth. All of this is one big show to
keep the people happy and ignorant.