Living Death: Deliverance (Horror, Zombie Apocalypse, Medical Fiction)

by Kent Reaper

  * * * * *

  Jenny.

  Kenneth rushed out of the cafeteria and down the hall, the sound of his footsteps trailing behind him in a hurry. He reached towards the phone in his pocket and dialed his mom first. Despite their rocky relationship, Kenneth figured under the circumstances he would still give them a courtesy call just to see if they were alright. He chose mom over dad because dad had said that even if the world was ending, he still wouldn't speak to him.

  Phone pressed to his ear, Kenneth smiled ironically as he waited for the line on the other end to ring. It's only under the imminent threat of death or disaster when one realizes who in life are truly important.

  "I'm sorry, but the network is experiencing difficulties at the moment. Please try again later." The patronizing tone of the recorded female voice rang too brightly in his ear for Kenneth's taste; he thought it a thinly veiled warning of the change that was overpowering the world that very moment.

  "Excuse me, can I borrow your phone?"

  The doctor looked up from the medical chart in his hand, surprised.

  "Please," Kenneth pleaded. "It's an emergency."

  Doctor's phone in hand, Kenneth pressed the number keys on it so hard the white of his fingernails showed.

  "Mom?" Kenneth muttered. "C'mon… c'mon… pick up!"

  The doctor stared at him curiously, oblivious to the crisis unfolding upon the world.

  "I'm sorry -"

  Kenneth hung up before he could hear that disgusting a recorded voice again.

  "Thanks." Kenneth said as he passed the phone back.

  So it's not just me. His mind raced as two paramedics rushed a patient from the ambulance outside into the hospital.

  "I need a sedative!" One of them shouted as the other held down the struggling man.

  The doctor tucked his phone back into his pocket and sprung into action.

  "I'm losing this one and fast! I need an AED!"

  Kenneth looked past the paramedics just in time to see another pair of them wheel a seemingly comatose woman past the hospital entrance.

  From his personal experience back when his life was still on track, Kenneth would have moved on instinct. He knew where the AEDs, where the sedatives, where the medical supplies were. And he thanked god every day that he was able to help so many people with their injuries. But now, he was no longer a doctor, not even a trainee one. Acting upon a patient now in his capacity as a nobody would render him liable to a torrent crushing lawsuits.

  Jenny.

  Kenneth remembered that he had to hurry.

  "She's gone."

  "I can't believe it."

  "What the hell happened?!"

  Kenneth looked back one last time, watching as the staff surrounding the female patient scratching their heads in helpless confusion.

  "Ow! What the fu - he bit me! That crazy guy just bit me!"

  Now this, Kenneth paid full attention.

  The cavalry were call in a hurry. Within seconds, two big, beefy guys dressed in dark blue uniforms with shiny badges had the attacker pinned firmly to the ground.

  "What happened here?" One of the guys asked the paramedic who was now fashioning a crude bandage on his arm.

  "I… I have no idea. We were restraining him because he seemed unstable. When I let him go for a moment to give him the morphine, he… he took the chance to bite me."

  "Are you going to be okay?"

  "I don't know. I… I…"

  He slumped to the floor, blood pooling round his bleeding arm.

  "Mike…"

  "Yeah?" The cop pinning the deranged patient down grunted at his partner.

  "This guy… it's weird. You might think I'm crazy, but check for yourself. He… he has no pulse."

  Kenneth's blood ran cold that instant.

  They had reached the hospital, carted right in by unassuming, well-meaning paramedics who were doing their job.

  Back when he was a normal teenage male, he had immersed himself in his fair share of zombie-related media. But this… no matter how many games he played, how many movies he watched on zombies, it simply wasn't enough to prepare him for this.

  Furrowing his brow, he took a moment to recall the footage he saw on the news. Those that were infected shrugged off bullets like it was nothing, but once in a while, some of them definitely stayed down when they were shot in the head. Kenneth prayed that he wasn't wrong about this.

  He didn't have time to wait around much longer. Escaping was paramount, but because Jenny was the only other person he ever cared about during his time here, he decided, just this once, to resist his self-preservation instincts and let his concern for her control him awhile longer.

  "Jenny! Jenny!" Frantic worry bled from his voice as it travelled throughout the hospital.

  As he shouted, he cursed himself on the inside. He cursed how unnecessarily large the hospital was. He cursed how he lacked the foresight to ask Jenny which department her next shift was in. Most of all, he cursed how such a disaster could come at the most inopportune moment.

  "Jenny? Jenny! Dammit Jenny, where are you?!"

  Kenneth opened door after door, shouting inside, ignoring the surprised faces of patients, nurses and doctors alike. Meanwhile, even among those who were still unaware, a sudden unease had spread in the air. Everybody could feel it.

  Was the stench of death finally freed from hiding, free to pervade the hospital and the world over? People murmured, whispering to each other. Some reached for their gadgets, devouring any shred of news they could get their hands on. Others switched to the news channels on any available television before turning up the volume.

  Suddenly, a nurse burst into the wing Kenneth was in. Her shirt was soaked with blood, her hair frazzled with a crazed look in her eyes that Kenneth had become chillingly familiar with.

  "It's them! They're here!"

  The significant minority of people who 'got it' reacted in an instant. They stampeded against the nearest exit, pounding on the doors with utmost urgency when they were locked. Others looked on, catatonic or morbidly entertained.

  Then the first of the infected arrived.

  He was a patient, dressed in a green gown stained brown with dried blood. He shambled towards the nearest living person, the whites of his eyes showing, his gait unsteady.

  Some continued their quest to escape. Others stared at him in stunned silence, watching curiously what he was going to do next.

  He grunted before his attention was grabbed by a nearby police officer.

  "Excuse me, sir. Are you alright?" He asked politely but one hand on the holster of his revolver bore cautious undertones.

  His shiny name tag below his badge caught Kenneth's eyes: Officer Brad Roughton. Kenneth hoped that Brad would be all right.

  The infected patient didn't respond. He merely made his way towards the man in blue.

  "Sir, I'm going to have to ask you to stay where you are." The cop ordered, his fingers undoing the button that held his revolver in its holster.

  Slowly, but surely, the thing continued its approach.

  "Sir, final warning. Stay where you are or I will be forced to take defensive action."

  "MWARR!"

  Without warning the infected man flung himself through the air - no, he pounced - and found himself on top of the struggling policeman.

  Screams of pain and horror filled the room as the infected sank his teeth deep into the Officer Roughton's flesh, ripping it apart in chunks that scattered about.

  "Oh god! He's - urggurh…" With his throat torn out, Officer Roughton struggled to breathe, to scream as his life literally faded away.

  Kenneth could only look on in helpless disgust as the crazed being gorged himself on the flesh of the fallen cop. He watched as the light of life slowly disappeared from the policeman's eyes.

  The deafening sound of a single, chambered round penetrated the frantic screams for god in the room and calmed every down in an instant.

  Ears ringing, Kenneth finally realized
what had happened.

  Standing over the corpses of both the infected and the cop and hyperventilating badly was a doctor with their blood splattered over his scrubs. He had taken control of the situation with a single, well-placed shot.

  He clutched the revolver in his trembling hand so tightly the whites of his knuckles were showing. Kenneth glanced down at the empty holster at the side of the dead cop and knew what had transpired.

  "Is… is it dead?" Someone asked.

  "I-I think so." The doctor breathed, his voice still incredibly jittery. "L-let me check his pulse."

  The sound of heavy metal dropping onto the floor with a loud thunk resonated with everyone in the room, as if lead had finally triumphed over evil in a remorseless cheer.

  With a trembling hand, the doctor reached for the corpse's wrist.

  "Rarrgh!" A vice-like grip constricted round the unsuspecting doctor, drawing him in for the inevitable bite.

  Kenneth watched the impossible happen before his very eyes as the policeman sat right up, flesh dangling by a thread and all, and attacked, chewing on the doctor's wrist in an eerily similar manner.

  Suspending his disbelief for a brief second, Kenneth managed to get it together. The people crowding round the exits weren't making it out. Maybe it was the confusion, the disorder, when all hell broke loose people momentarily forgot themselves and their bearings.

  Through the glass on the door's exit, Kenneth saw literal carnage as the infected attacked the living. Blood, guts, spilled everywhere behind those doors granting both freedom… and death.

  No. Kenneth realized. The hope of living a little longer lay in going deeper into the hospital's maternity wing. Kenneth retreated where people ran, pushing past endless chaos searching for a window or a vent, something, anything so that he could get out and find Jenny.

  He found himself in an empty corridor, far from all the chaos. Three lifeless bodies, with parts of bloody human flesh strewn everywhere, lay in front of him. Two of the infected were on top of the corpse furthest away from him, feasting on their freshly killed flesh. They didn't notice Kenneth.

  Kenneth's mind blanked out for a moment as he struggled to comprehend how humans could be so cruel. Then the welcoming glint of metal caught his eye. He looked down at corpse nearest to him. It was another cop. The revolver in his hand beckoned Kenneth to it, luring him with the promise of security.

  He took the chance.

  Kneeling down slowly, he reached for and grabbed the revolver without the two infected people noticing. He pulled, but the dead cop refused to let go, holding it in a grip so tight Kenneth busied himself using both hands to liberate the gun from its dead owner.

  This is wrong. Are you crazy? Stealing a gun from a dead cop… you could go to jail for this! A voice screamed inside Kenneth's head.

  Look around you! This, everything, it's all crazy now! I'd rather go to jail than be eating by those things!

  The police officer's nametag caught Kenneth's eye.

  It read: Officer Gary Brooke.

  Thank you, Gary.

  He remembered overhearing the two nurses earlier talking about going to see a 'Gary'. He hoped that the corpse before him wasn't the 'Gary' that they were talking about. But then he looked up and saw the two unrecognizable corpses ahead of him dressed in a nurse's white and soaked in blood.

  Oh.

  But there was no time to despair. Jenny could be hurt, scared, trapped, or worse. Kenneth's eyes lit up with a shred of hope as he freed the weapon at last, coming up with a mental eulogy in his head to use if he - if mankind - ever made it through this mess alive.

  "Yes!" He whispered to himself, feeling the power in his hand and the accompany adrenaline rush in his veins.

  "Hmmmm….?" One of the infected looked up, bloody meat dripped down his chin from the sides of his lips. He stared straight at Kenneth and for a moment, there seemed to be a flicker of recognition. Nah, who was he kidding, Kenneth's legs sprung into action, propelling him back down the corridor he had come from.

  The sound of steady sound of unsteady, thudding footsteps behind him was enough to motivate any man to break the world record for the hundred meter sprint. Knowing full well what would happen if those things, hot on his heels, had caught him, Kenneth ran and ran, not caring where he was going, as long as it was as far away from them as possible.

  "Fuck!" Kenneth swore out loud as he smashed his shoulder into the locked door in front of him. He took a step back, gun gripped firmly in his hand as he contemplated shooting the lock off the door. If he wasn't able to go through, this would pretty much be a dead end.

  He looked around him, trying his best not to let the growing figures of death muddy his thinking.

  Shoot the lock? No, it might not work, and the sound will definitely attract every damn one of those things here. But what choice do I have?

  The two infected had turned into… Kenneth couldn't even see the end this horde. He looked around himself once more, desperately thinking of a way out of this mess as if his life depended on it.

  Useless. It's useless. Even if I shoot the lock open, how am I going to stop them from following me in?

  The unholy moans of a horde of those things were enough to sink most men into fear, depression and nonstop nightmares. Kenneth stood no chance.

  The sign on the door finally caught his eye.

  Janitor's Closet. Fuck my shit escape route. There's no way out through here.

  Kenneth pointed the gun at his head.

  I'm sorry Mom, Dad, for letting you down. Jenny, I hope you're alright. I'm sorry I couldn't make sure that you are.

  He shut his eyes, disappointed that the last thing he would ever see was a horde of those things coming straight for him. With a trembling hand, he willed himself to cut his suffering and end it all now.

  His finger touched the cold metal of the revolver's trigger and by instinct, he pulled back.

  No, he couldn't do it… yet. Kenneth finally realized how much he cherished the miracle of life. A cold shiver ran down Kenneth's spine as he thought of death. It frightened Kenneth and made him understand that he was in no way ready to face it.

  "You bastards! Come and get me if you can!" Kenneth raised his revolver and fired off a shot. Adrenaline mixed with the dopamine soaked his brain as he felt momentarily powerful. If he was going down, he was taking as many of them as he could down with him.

  One of the infected had his head explode as the bullet passed through it. He slumped to the floor, incapacitated at last.

  He squeezed the trigger again, not daring to aim anywhere else.

  The recoil surprised Kenneth as he struggled to keep his aiming steady. The revolver in his hand was far heavier than he had anticipated, and each shot that sent one of them flying back onto the floor felt like he was being punched back in his aching shoulder with equal force.

  But along with the recoil came a long-desired feeling of power, power that Kenneth craved for, even if it was only going to last a few fleeting seconds.

  "That's right you bastards, I'm going down in flames, I'm taking all you monsters down to hell with me!"

  He fired again, and again. One more fell with a single shot to the forehead. The other bullet passed through the shoulder of another one of them. The infected that was shot flinched for a second before resuming its steady, demoralizing gait, shrugging off the shot like it was nothing more than an annoying mosquito bite.

  How many shots did Kenneth fire? Five? Six? He didn't know but knew this was not the time to keep count. At this moment, the prospect of death looked really good compared to being eaten alive like everyone else that he had seen.

  He pointed the revolver at his head and shut his eyes one more time. They were almost within pouncing range. This time, he would not hesitate to pull the trigger. He would not!

  One… Two…

  Kenneth opened his eyes. Oh fuck, they were in his face.

  Something grabbed his arm.

  Oh god they've got me.

>   Kenneth touched the trigger, intending to squeeze it, hard.

  A sudden force pulled him by the arm back in time, away from the snapping, rotting jaws of an infected nurse.

  "Get in here, quick!" A voice drenched in urgency rang in his ears.

  * * * * *

  Three