by Kent Reaper
* * * * *
"I give up." Kenneth said as he started taking his gloves off.
"What? You can't give up. You just can't!"
"Look around you!" Kenneth shouted, startling even himself. "We don't have the equipment, all the staff are either dead or infected, the world has turned into hell. I honestly don't know what you expect me to do!"
"I don't know! But you're the doctor! You should have a better idea than any of us right now!"
"Go to hell. You think you know me? I agreed to help only because I thought I could redeem myself and my responsibility to my patients. But from the looks of things, nothing has changed. I am still a sinner, and with this breech birth, your wife and child are most likely not going to make it."
Kenneth found himself flying across the room. His body landed on the ground with a loud thud and ground to a skidding halt as he crumpled against the wall like a crash test dummy.
"Motherfucker." Kenneth reeled from the shock. He wiped the blood away from the side of his lip and without thinking, tackled Mr. Karcher. They fell onto the floor, rolling, punching, and expending every possible effort for the incapacitation of their counterpart.
Kenneth didn't know what the hell was going on. He only knew that the heavy mass pinning him down wanted him dead, and he was going to do everything he possibly could to prevent that from happening.
"Both of you stop this shit right now!" Mrs. Karcher's shriek filled the room as the gag fell from her mouth, reminding the infected outside that the inhabitants of Ward 29 were not dead and jolted the both of them out of their testosterone-filled rampage at each other's throats.
"You two sure picked an awesome time to have a death match! The both of you can go to hell for all I care, but you better damn well get this baby out of me first!"
"I-I can't, ma'am." Kenneth hesitated to explain as he finally managed to push Mr. Karcher off of him.
"And why is that?" Mrs. Karcher heaved in between breaths giving Kenneth a seething glare that chilled him to the bone. He wasn't which was scarier, facing the infected outside, or the wrath of Mrs. Karcher in here.
"I-I can't delivery your baby normally ma'am, and I don't have the tools for such a risky procedure, assuming you want to -"
"I don't care about your excuses! You need tools? Go fucking get them!"
Kenneth's blood ran cold at the thought of risking his life by going out there and facing those things for a woman he barely knew. He contemplated with some irony the deep meaning of the phrase 'stuck between a rock and a hard place'.
"Ma'am, if you haven't realized, the apocalypse is here."
"The apocalypse can wait, Doctor. So help me god, I will throttle your neck if you don't get this baby out of me right about now."
"Hell hath no fury like a pissed off woman in the middle of giving birth." Mr. Karcher shrugged.
Kenneth looked around him, half doubting his competence as his mind struggled to make sense of how he could best use what he currently had to get the job done.
Then again, there was that bathroom window, an option that, from the looks of things, was getting more and more tempting by the minute.
Suddenly, the patient chart hanging idly off the front of Mrs. Karcher's bed caught Kenneth's eye. He bent down and swiped it off its folder. He would not make the same careless mistake again.
Mr. Karcher clasped his hands together seemingly in prayer as he watched the pupils of Kenneth's eyes darted from left to right and then back to the left again as he read off what were practically hieroglyphs to him.
"Great."
"Is it good news?"
"No, I meant 'great' as in the 'We're fucked!' kind of great."
"Oh, what's it say?"
"Doctor Ross had seen this coming from a mile away. You remember the last ultrasound she did?"
"Yeah."
"Did they say anything about your baby then?"
"Nothing worth mentioning, except that our baby's bigger than normal." Mr. Karcher couldn't help but let the pride of a father shine through.
"Precisely. Your baby's also facing the wrong way right now. There's a technique I've heard of to turn the baby around but I have no idea how it's done. The risk is too great."
"So what the hell can you do?"
"Why else do you think I said I'm a med school dropout? I don't know jack shit compared to Doctor Ross. Man's a legend round here, good luck trying to find him in the middle of an unbelievable viral outbreak though."
Kenneth tossed the chart over to Mr. Karcher to see.
"See that section under advised action? Cesarean needed. Doctor Ross recommended a freaking cesarean, which is now impossible in this situation."
"What's a cesarean?"
Kenneth's eyes almost popped out of his head.
"Didn't Doctor Ross tell you about it?"
"Come to think of it, yeah, I guess he did. But we were so excited we just told him to do whatever he thought was best for the baby."
Kenneth slapped his forehead really hard. Till now, he didn't realize that some people could be so willfully ignorant.
"Dammit, Mr. Karcher. A cesarean is when we cut the baby out of the mother. If we do that now, Mrs. Karcher is probably going to die. If an infection doesn't get her, those things outside sure as hell will."
Mr. Karcher stared at Kenneth dumbfounded.
"Fuck, fuck!"
"What's wrong, honey? Could you guys stop talking and help me already?"
"Oh dear, I'm so sorry." Mr. Karcher knelt by Mrs. Karcher's bed. "Sarah, I'm sorry I put you through this."
"Honey, whatever you want to apologize for, save it for later. Get this baby out of me now, dammit!"
"I'm sorry Sandra, I really am. If only you weren't pregnant now…"
A pang of guilt hit Kenneth as he watch a husband look upon his wife with such a pathetic, helpless demeanor.
"Doctor, what did you say to my husband?" Mrs. Karcher asked, her voice making no effort to hide her feelings of suspicion.
"Mrs. Karcher, I'm sorry."
"Not you too!"
"I… I can't do this." Kenneth headed towards the ward bathroom, taking his gloves off in the process. Compared to killing another patient under his care again, he'd rather take his chances and face the demons haunting outside.
"Doctor Cook! You come right back here and explain to me what's going on!"
Kenneth pretended not to hear, the bathroom door was only a few steps away.
"You owe me an explanation dammit, you owe me at least that much!"
Kenneth stopped and sighed. If she wanted to know, it wasn't right of him to deny her of that knowledge.
"I'm sorry Mrs. Karcher, but the only way to save your baby is by performing a cesarean."
"You mean… oh my god."
"I'm sorry dear…" Mr. Karcher couldn't hold back his tears any longer.
"B-but, why?"
"Your baby's too big to come out naturally. Couple that with a breech birth and Doctor Ross's prior recommendations, I'm afraid given my limited knowledge, this is the only way."
"You do whatever you have to do to save my baby, you hear me, Doctor Cook?"
"No. I can't have the blood of one more innocent patient on my hands. If I were to do it, if I could even do it in the first place, it's not likely that you will make it."
"Doctor, I don't care. My kids are my life. This baby is my life. If you can't have the blood of one more on your hands, how about two? Huh? If you don't even try, you'll have the deaths of me and my baby on your conscience as you go and face that hellhole out there. And rest assured, if I can, I'll haunt you for taking the coward's way out!"
Kenneth stared at Mrs. Karcher's resolute look.
No… no, I can't!
Kenneth turned away and shook his head. She reminded him too much of the patient who died under his care.
"I don't care anymore. I just can't do this. I'm sorry."
Kenneth headed back towards the bathroom door, not daring to think, fearful that r
egret would creep up on him before he tried to escape.
"There's a better escape route. It's safer and when you're out, you'd be better positioned to find your girlfriend."
Kenneth's ears perked up as he turned to face Mr. Karcher.
"Excuse me? She's not my girlfriend, but -"
"I don't care. I know you were eyeing that open bathroom window from the moment we went to wash our hands. What, you didn't think I was going to notice?"
"What does it matter?"
"We're on the fourth floor, Doctor. You try climbing out of that window and you'll break your leg if you're not careful."
"I'll take my chances if it means being able to find her. No matter what, anything beats starving to death in here, hearing the moan of death outside and your non-stop pleas to deliver the baby."
"There's another way. It's through the operating theater downstairs."
"How the hell do you know? I was an intern here long enough to notice that the theater is practically sealed."
"You left, remember? I pass by that place every day to visit my wife even when you weren't around. They made some changes to the place, added a door to the medical supplies closet. I asked a nurse about it, she said it was so that both the maternity and pediatric departments could have better access to vital equipment."
"You're telling me…" Kenneth's voice trailed off, his eyes opened wide. A glimmer of hope, it seemed, had once again returned to his life.
"Yes." Mr. Karcher nodded. "Behind that door is a walkway to the pediatric wing, the other building. It may not be a sure thing, but it beats breaking your leg falling from the fourth floor."
"Be that as it may, it's still too risky to leave this ward after how well you have barricaded us in."
"Doctor, I'm begging you. We won't blame you if you can't save my wife, but please, do your best to fulfill her wish and save our child. As much as it breaks me so, she has made her decision, and I have to respect that."
"Tell me then, Mr. Karcher." Kenneth didn't like to do this, but his instincts weren't giving him much of a choice. "What's stopping me from leaving right now, finding that closet and escaping on my own?"
"Apart from facing those things alone?"
The glint of a ring of nickel keys in Mr. Karcher's palm caught his eye.
"When people started eating people outside, I managed to fish this out of a dead janitor's pocket. It's a medical supply closet and it's probably locked. Help me save my baby and we all can escape together. Please, don't let them both die."
Kenneth had no choice. The gun sat in his pocket, weighing him down with the burden of rash usage. He had shot those infected people, but they were already dead. Sure, he could take the revolver out now, shoot Mr. Karcher and escape by himself with the keys, but as if he didn't have enough sins weighing down on his heart already. Kenneth was no murderer despite how much he blamed himself for causing a patient's death, and he didn't want more regrets to pile on his conscience.
"Mrs. Karcher," Kenneth started, as he pulled a mobile stretcher he found out of the closet and wheeled it next to her bed. Helping her onto it, he picked her gag up and gave it back to her. "We're going to go on a little trip. Rest assured, I will do whatever I can to save your baby. But I'll need you to keep as quiet as you can."
Who am I kidding. Kenneth sighed to himself. Surgeries like the cesarean were barely covered when he was still attending classes. Such things were left to the specialists, the surgeons, not him. Though he had seen one carried out on his third day at the hospital and took many notes on the procedure, to carry one out now with his current skills and experience was practically suicide.
But could he bear to tell the desperate couple that they might stand a better chance asking a veterinarian to do it instead?
Kenneth shook his head, as if to try and banish all doubts from his mind. He had the procedure memorized, just like half a dozen other surgeries he witnessed during his limited time as an intern.
I'll do what I can, and let god sort out my mess afterwards.
With Mrs. Karcher on the stretcher, there was only the small problem of getting to the operating theater. Surely the risk was too great to simply step outside?
"Lend me your gun." Mr. Karcher said as he stuck out his hand.
Calm down, now's not the time to panic. Kenneth felt his heart rate rise nonetheless.
"What for?"
"I need to clear those things outside before we can move my wife."
"Are you crazy? They're drawn to sound. You fire off a shot and the all of them will come rushing."
"Goddammit!" Mr. Karcher pounded his fist into the bedside table. A crazy glint shone off his eyes as they darted round the room, searching for something, anything, that would help them get to the operating theater.
His gaze finally fell upon a walking stick resting against the other bed in the ward. A glimmer of hope formed in his mind as he smiled.
Mr. Karcher walked right over and picked it up, giving it a few good swings. It was solid, sturdy and meant to be abused. In other words, exactly what he needed.
"You're the doctor, I can't let you get hurt. Push my wife, I'll clear whatever's in front."
Kenneth kept silent, taking his place behind the stretcher. For all he knew, this man was ready to face death for the sake of his wife. Kenneth had no right to stop him.
"I don't see that many of them outside. Now's our chance. You ready?"
Kenneth nodded.
The door to Ward 29 opened at last. It creaked on its hinges as a cautious, alert eye kept a lookout for any signs of danger.
Kenneth stopped on seeing Mr. Karcher's open palm thrust in his direction before morphing into a V-sign.
Two of them.
He nodded at Mr. Karcher and watched as he disappeared out the door first.
The dull moans and sounds of violence rang in his ears and he tried to cover them. While bringing up his morale, Kenneth admired how Mr. Karcher kept as silent as he possibly could so that he did not have to stir up unneeded attention.
A slow set of footsteps headed towards the door, towards a frightened Kenneth and a woman in labor. It's gait unsteady, a slight moan could be heard.
Kenneth pulled the revolver out in an instant, unsure of how many bullets he had left (there was no time to check). He just prayed that it was enough for a single headshot.
The door open and a single, bloodied man appeared.
Kenneth jumped back on instinct and out of the man's striking range, his finger touched the trigger.
"Hey, hey, don't shoot! I'm not dead yet."
Thank god.
Mr. Karcher held his shirt up.
"It's not my blood."
"Still, it's best not to get any of it on you. No one knows for sure how it spreads."
"Yeah, too late."
"You got them in the head right? They seem to stay down permanently if you aim for the head."
"What do you think I am, stupid? I saw your 'desperate last stand', taking out three of those things with headshots before I pulled you in here."
Maybe he's not as stupid as I thought.
* * * * *
Six
