Authors: Devan Sagliani
“Why aren't you taking the 95?” Gemma asked.
“It's just faster to take Maryland,” Parker said. “Trust me.”
“Which hospital are we going to?” Travis asked.
“Sunrise is closest,” Parker said. “Hold on.”
They came to a straight stretch and Parker punched it, racing up toward one hundred miles an hour.
“It's going to be okay, baby,” Gemma cooed. “Hang in there. We'll be at the hospital soon.”
Parker adjusted the mirror to get a better look. Candy looked gravely ill. Her condition had deteriorated unbelievably fast. It was beyond anything he'd ever seen.
“Just hang on back there,” Parker called, focusing on them instead of the road ahead.
Candy coughed and blood flecked her hands.
“Jesus,” Travis said involuntarily.
“This is way beyond alcohol poisoning,” Parker said. “I'm thinking maybe there was something wrong with that coke. Maybe she's having some kind of reaction to it. Who knows? Maybe he tried to roofie her.”
Gemma looked up in concern as he spoke. It was clear she wished he would just stop talking. He was freaking her out even more about a bad situation.
“I've seen this kind of thing before,” he carried on, ignoring her. “Some jerk slipped GHB into my friend’s cup at a party in high school. She lost all control of her motor functions, but the next day she was fine. Had no memory of it, just a wicked headache.”
Without warning, the headlamps of the truck revealed moving shapes struggling in the dark ahead of them. Parker turned just in time to see them--two people fighting in the middle of the road. He slammed on the brakes and came screeching to a halt in front of them, the lights of his truck fully illuminating the action. A man in tattered clothes had knocked another man to the ground and pinned him there. The sick man was attempting to lean over with his open mouth and bite the man on the ground. He struggled and squirmed, using all her strength to keep his attacker at bay as he tried to escape.
“What the fuck!” Parker screamed.
“We've got to help him!” Travis cried out.
“Don't open the door,” Gemma pleaded. “Please!”
Before they could react, the truck shook violently as Holt leaped from the back with a loud war cry and raced toward the fight, baseball bat in hand. Without hesitation, Holt made an arcing sweep with the bat that connected with the sick man's face, sending him sprawling onto his back. They heard the crack a millisecond later. Holt wheeled around triumphantly, holding the bat high in his right hand, a huge smile plastered across his drunken face.
“And the crowd goes wild!” he shouted at the night sky.
The sick man began to crawl away toward the hospital parking lot, but Holt spotted him trying to escape and stomped the back of his legs, significantly slowing him down.
“Not so fast, buddy,” he said, leaning over him.
The helpless man didn't waste any time. He bounded up and ran for the truck, pounding on the driver's side window and pleading to be let in. Parker didn't move.
“Please man,” he pleaded. “I need you to take me to the Tropicana. My wife is working there. I need to get her out of this city now!”
“It's not gonna happen pal,” Parker said. “Be grateful we stopped in the first place.”
The man punched at the truck. Gemma screamed. Just then Holt came around the side of the truck pointing his bat at the man.
“Are we gonna have a problem?”
The man shook his head and stepped back, looking sick himself.
Holt began to open his mouth to tear into the him, but the man opened his mouth and vomited a foamy slush of oily black bile onto the asphalt that made Holt back away, cursing him.
“Freak!” Holt yelled, giving up and walking back to the truck.
“Jesus,” Gemma whispered.
“You're just lucky we're in a hurry,” Holt chided as he lumbered back into the truck bed. “If we had more time I'd teach you a lesson you'd never forget. Let's rock and roll!”
Holt slapped the side of the truck again and Parker took off, avoiding the man and his vomit.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
Sunrise Hospital was jam packed with sick people. Most of them looked like Candy, or worse.
If this isn’t the dictionary definition of the word ‘chaos’,
Travis thought to himself,
then it’s the closest thing I’ve seen to it in my life.
Patients lined the tiny waiting room in varying states of illness--some moaning, some whimpering, some shuffling back and forth listlessly, all looking more and more agitated. Every other minute, a new case came in with basically what amounted to the same symptoms. Eventually, the front desk began telling new arrivals that the facilities were overwhelmed and suggested trying either an urgent care center or the next town over. A fat, middle aged man who looked like a Treasure Island pirate missing some patches of hair threw up right next to them. Travis barely managed to jump out of the way before the foul smelling, discolored liquid spewed all over the floor. No one came to clean it up and eventually their group shuffled a little to the side to avoid the wretched smell.
Candy had been taken in almost immediately after they arrived. The tired nurse had agreed to let Gemma fill out her paperwork. Her condition by that point had deteriorated so rapidly that she looked like she was dying. Now, she was unable to communicate at all. Two men in white scrubs brought out a gurney and wheeled Candy back to an examination room. The friends had already been waiting two or three hours and were slowly losing track of time as the hospital filled up with the afflicted.
“How much longer can this go on,” Holt complained. He was growing more and more restless as the effects of the alcohol wore off. “I'm not sure how much more of this I can take, to be honest. This place is a damn zoo! Looks like Circus Circus at happy hour.”
“No one forced you to come along,” Gemma reminded him. “No one is forcing you to stay.”
“Don't talk like that to him,” Parker said. “If it wasn't for him we might have been carjacked a minute ago.”
“We'd still have made it here,” Gemma said sourly. “We were practically in the parking lot. Who told you to stop for some stranger in the first place?”
“I think we're all just tired,” Travis said, trying to be the peace maker. “Everyone just needs to stay calm.”
“The little lady has a point,” said Holt, getting up. “I’m out of here.”
“I don't think that's such a good idea,” Travis said. “We have no idea what's really going on out there,” Travis paused and waved around the room to illustrate his point, “but we do know that it’s getting worse.”
“Travis's right,” Parker said, but Holt just laughed at them.
“It's been a wacky night,” he said. “I'll grant you that. Maybe the mother ship has landed and is calling all the weirdos back home.”
“That's ridiculous,” Gemma said.
“Exactly,” he said. “Now, if you don't mind, I'm going to see about another drink. I bid you all a fond farewell. Good evening.”
Holt turned and hurried out of the emergency room. No one tried to stop him. The truth of the matter was that if he really wanted to leave there was no way they
could
stop him. The guy was literally over two hundred pounds. A few minutes later an attending physician came out to talk to them, clipboard in hand.
“Are you the ones that brought in Candice Swanson?” he asked.
“How is she?” Gemma replied, her voice cracking with concern.
“She's sleeping now. We gave her something to help her rest,” the doctor said. “We've just got to isolate the source of the infection. We've given her a cocktail of antibiotics, and the nap she’s taking will help. It says on her chart she ingested cocaine? Is that correct?”
“Yeah,” Gemma said. “I think so.”
“Do you have any idea how much?”
“No,” Gemma said. “I'm not sure. I just know some girls brought something that looked like it with them to our dorm.”
“Let me ask you,” the doctor said slowly, “is it possible that it was something else? Or that the cocaine was tainted with another drug? Did you hear any of the other guests mention bath salts or spice by any chance?”
“I wasn't really paying attention,” Gemma said. “I don't do drugs.”
“Did anyone else here do any of the substance?” The doctor glanced around at them. “Be honest. It's important. Your life could depend on it.”
“Not a chance,” Parker said. “We're not into that shit.”
“What's going on?” Travis asked.
“She's become extremely agitated,” the doctor said. “My guess is that your party favors were spiked. We see it all the time. Dealers cut in cheaper chemicals to make more money, often leaving users unaware of the risk they run of overdosing. I'm still waiting on her blood work but I'd guess she has ingested a bad cocktail of chemicals and so did her new friends.”
“Is that why you sedated her?” Travis asked. “To keep her knocked out so she can recover?”
“No,” the doctor said, looking troubled. “She attacked one of the other patients in her room. We think the high fever caused some kind of delirium, but it seems to have passed for now.”
“She attacked someone?” Travis looked scared as the words left his mouth. He began to gaze around the room again at all of the people waiting to be treated. Several were starting to bleed black oil from the eyes. He
wasn't
just being paranoid.
“Doc,” Parker interjected. “what's wrong with her? I mean, is she going to be okay?”
“Sure son,” the doctor replied. “We just need to run some more tests. Don't you worry about your little girlfriend.”
Before Travis could reply, a blood curdling scream ripped through the waiting room. They turned to see several armed guards tearing down the hallway after a woman in a white gown drenched in blood. Nothing could have prepared them for what they were about to see. Candy had scarlet fluid dripping from her open mouth. She latched on to an emergency room nurse by the neck and began chewing through her jugular. The woman let out a tea kettle high scream that left sick patients scrambling for the exits. Travis stood rooted to the spot where he stood. The guards drew their guns but didn't dare fire for fear of hitting the nurse. The doctor turned and fled back down the hallway in a fit of cowardice.
“Do something,” Gemma yelled.
“Like what?” Parker was dumbfounded.
Candy pulled her grotesque face away from the wound and bright red arcs of blood shot out like a fountain onto the sterile white floor. Her eyes were now solid black, like two big saucers. A hint of a smile crossed her filth covered lips. Candy turned and began running for the exit doors.
“Stop her,” one of the guards yelled as the other charged after Candy gun drawn.
“Candy no,” Gemma screamed as she took off after them.
“Gemma stop,” Travis yelled as he followed. Parker moved behind them in stunned silence, keys in hand, a dread fear rising up in him. More than anything he just wanted to take off, to run to his truck and drive away as fast as he could without stopping for anyone or anything. It was taking all the willpower he possessed not to do just that.
“Freeze!” The security guard was closing in on Candy as she went for an elderly woman being brought in by wheelchair. Candy opened her mouth as she sprang forward like a wild animal. Travis heard the crack of the gun go off before he saw Candy's head explode. It didn't seem real. The bullet tore the top of her skull off, plastering the screaming elderly woman with blood, puss, and oily black filth from head to toe.
Travis turned to see Gemma collapse to her knees in the parking lot. Sobs racked her body and she began to shiver all over. He raced to her.
“Are you all right? Did you get hit?” It was all he could think to ask. Gemma didn't respond.
“Travis,” Parker said sternly. “Help her up. We're getting out of here.”
“We can't just leave man,” Travis said. “What about the cops?”
“I don't think they are coming,” Parker looked back into the waiting room at the people still inside. They were looking more and more like Candy before her attack.
“We gotta go before someone else gets hurt is all,” Parker screamed. “Now come on!”
Travis took one side and Parker grabbed the other, lifting Gemma's limp body from the asphalt and dragging her back out to the street. Travis stood at the curb with Gemma, who was still not responding, while Parker sprinted off to get the truck. Moments later, he pulled around and they helped her inside. As they pulled out of the parking lot, a loud explosion went off behind them. The right side of the hospital was engulfed in flames, fire licking black stains across the face of the building from out of the broken glass windows. No one said a word on the way back to Thunderdome.
When they arrived, Travis told Gemma he would be taking her back to his room and she didn't argue. She was walking now, but the look of dread and disbelief on her face had not changed.
“What are you gonna do?” Travis stared at Parker.
“I'm gonna go check on Max,” he said.
“Good luck with that,” Travis said turning away.
The sun had not yet risen, and there was a final chill to the air as dawn was approaching. Not a soul was wandering around at that hour and the grounds were eerily quiet as they made their way in from what was surely the worst night of their lives.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
The first thing Max did when she got back to her apartment after the Slaughterhouse party was to lock the door and take a hot shower. It had been a long night. First there had been the incident with Parker. What was with that guy? How did he always manage to get up under her skin? If she didn't know any better she'd say she was slightly crushing on him. It seemed absurd to even suggest it. He was a million miles away from the kind of guy she wanted to end up with. He was a dumb jock with a dark secret of some sort hell bent on blowing his one chance at being something by messing with the wrong crowd and experimenting with drugs. She was looking for someone grand, someone smart and clever and good and true, someone loyal -kinda like a straight Neil Patrick Harris.
“Fucking guy is practically a Neanderthal,” she said out loud, suddenly becoming aware of just how sexually attracted she was to him, against her will. The tingling she felt made her feel like her body was betraying her. Maybe that was it, maybe she just needed to bang him to get it out of her system. Sometimes these urges just came over her from someplace deep down and dark.