by Horner, Rob
“Spin me to the right,” Tim whispered. Josh complied without comment.
“Okay, Billy, try the door to the bathroom. Quietly.”
Billy switched the Taser to his left hand and slowly reached for the door handle. The handle turned easily.
“Crouch down and push it open.”
Billy complied. The bathroom was empty.
Backing away, he released the door, which immediately began to close.
“Don’t let it slam,” Tim hissed.
Billy stopped the door and eased it closed.
“Check the lab as well.”
Crouching down again, Billy opened the door to the lab, revealing a small waiting room with three chairs, all done in a dark fabric, and a bank teller’s sliding window. A door beside the window gave access into the lab itself.
“Go check it,” Tim said to Josh.
The lean nurse moved around the wheelchair, past Billy, who remained crouched, and into the lab waiting room.
“That door should be locked from this side,” Billy whispered.
Imitating the shorter man, Josh knelt and tested the doorknob. It rattled slightly but wouldn’t turn.
“Okay, back out here, both of you,” Tim ordered.
A thump sounded from the room behind the officer.
Tim tried to force himself to his feet, instinct and training demanding that he turn to face the possible threat. But Josh hadn’t set the locks on the wheelchair when he went to check the lab, so all the officer managed to do when he put his feet down and pushed was to send the wheelchair sliding back into the door of the doctor’s lounge, where it struck with a loud clatter and thud.
Tim winced at the noise but was able to push himself up now that the wall blocked the chair from further motion. Standing didn’t pose much of a problem but spinning to face the opposite direction almost put him back on his ass on the floor. He knew he only moved his feet and twisted at the waist, but his head seemed to think he was still spinning. Tim squeezed his eyes shut and forced himself to breathe slow and deep, forcibly reminding himself that he was standing still. He wasn’t moving and the floor wasn’t moving.
A hand on his arm almost made him scream.
“Sorry, Officer,” Josh whispered near his ear. “Just wanted to keep you from falling.”
Tim nodded, not trusting himself to speak.
“Billy,” Josh said, “get the chair.”
“Something in there,” Tim said. “I heard a thump.”
“Okay, you want to cover the door while I open it?”
Tim nodded, opening his eyes. Thankfully, the world stayed steady.
“Is somebody out there?” a man’s voice called. It sounded like he had his mouth pressed to the other side of the doctor’s lounge door.
“Haven’t heard one talk yet,” Tim said quietly. Then, a little louder, “This is Gaffney P.D. Come out with your hands where I can see them.”
“Oh, thank God!” the man said, and the door opened.
A tall man dressed in a dark shirt with khaki pants, all covered by a long, white lab coat, stepped out and into the spill of light from the battery-pack bulbs above the door. His clothes were liberally splattered with something dark, and a large stain covered most of his left arm, originating at the triceps.
“Dr. Fromeyer,” Josh said.
“How long have you been in there?” Billy asked.
Tim interrupted before the doctor could answer. “I need you to remove your lab coat, sir.”
The police officer hadn’t lowered his pistol.
“Officer, this is one of our hospitalists, Dr. Fromeyer,” Billy said.
The doctor looked scared. “I was just making rounds in Med-Surg when we heard several loud bangs over by the morgue and the lights went out,” the doctor stammered. “Greg and Jenny went to check, but they came back looking wrong, and they had an old man with them and they…they—”
“I appreciate that you’re scared, doctor,” Tim said softly and evenly. “But right now, I need you to do what I said and remove your lab coat.”
“Med-Surg,” Josh whispered to Billy.
“I know,” Billy said.
“It was just…it was Jenny,” the doctor stammered. “She was coming in as I was coming out to chart. I waved, maybe I said something, and she just turned and bit into my arm, just bit like it was a chicken wing, and I pushed her away and got out of there. There were people shouting and maybe I should have stayed but all I could think about was getting somewhere away from there.”
“Doctor,” Tim said softly.
“So, I hid in the lounge, you know? I went into the bathroom to check my arm but I…but it—”
“Josh. Billy. Get his coat off, please.”
Tim still hadn’t lowered the gun, and now the two nurses registered it. They looked at each other and Tim could read the understanding as clearly as a shout.
“Hey! I’m a doctor! You can’t just—”
But Josh and Billy were emergency room nurses, more than capable of holding a man still and pulling a lab coat back and down, sliding the sleeves away until the arm was exposed. The dark shirt underneath was long-sleeved, but the cuff was undone on the left sleeve. The doctor had checked his wound, like he said. He hadn’t said what he’d seen.
“What’s wrong with your arm, doctor?” Tim asked.
There were trails of dried blood along the wrist and into the palm of his hand, having run down from the arm.
“Unbutton it, Josh,” Billy said.
“I’m sorry, doc, but we’ve gotta see,” Josh said softly, reaching with his right hand and loosening the first three buttons on the dark work shirt.
The doctor was one of those guys who didn’t believe in wearing a T-shirt under his dress shirt, and as the buttons opened, the fabric separated, revealing thick, ropy tendrils, dark in the dim light, rolling and twisting and twining from the left upper arm and across the chest, disappearing into the skin over his heart.
The doctor’s demeanor changed. His frantic protestations stopped mid-sentence. His face drooped. He ceased struggling against the two nurses.
“I just want to share,” he said calmly.
Tim shot him in the head.
Moving down the right-side hallway, a short stint that passed one of the back entrances to Radiology, Dr. Crews had the group wait while he and Buck stepped into the department. The key-punch door opened into a dark and narrow corridor with small computer workstations tucked into each side. The corridor ran past another door on the right, the office that used to belong to the in-house radiologist before the position was closed, and then ended at a final door, much thicker, that opened into a control room for the CT scanners.
“We’ll check that when we come in from the other direction,” Crews whispered.
“How many people should have been in Radiology tonight?” Buck asked.
“There’s usually only three at night, but there are five or six on day shift, and who knows if they got to leave.”
“Right. The lockdown.”
Back out in the hall, Crews led the four ladies around the corner and into the Radiology Suite with Buck bringing up the rear. The waiting room for Radiology was arguably one of the best-appointed places in the hospital. The small medical center aggressively pursued contracts with independent providers in order to have them send their patients for same-day outpatient imaging, and it showed in how they tried to make people feel welcome. There were several couches situated around a large open area, with fake plants placed strategically on each end. The furniture was separated enough that someone in a wheelchair or hobbling on crutches could maneuver safely without hanging up or tripping. Large picture windows looked out over the patient parking lot, and a set of double doors, locked at five p.m., provided access so that outpatients didn’t need to walk through the hospital to get there.
The waiting area was brighter than the hallway leading into it. Though not high in the sky, the moon gave a gentle luminescence that softened the shapes and sha
dows. Grace immediately went to the double doors, trailed by Rose. Dr. Crews could see the striker bar connecting the doors from the hall, but the two women needed to check, one of those pathological human traits. You couldn’t be sure the doors were locked if you didn’t check them. What he was more concerned with was if they rattled the doors and drew the attention of those crazy people. So far, the radiology parking lot was empty. It needed to stay that way. Those double doors were nowhere near as secure as the doors leading to the emergency department.
But the women didn’t push on the doors, and when they spoke to each other, it was in a whisper too quiet to be heard at the other side of the lobby.
“If we can’t get out through Med-Surg,” Buck said softly, “this might be a good second option.”
“We’d make a lot of noise,” Tina said. “Unless one of you knows where we can find the keys—”
In one of those rare moments where life is funnier than any comedy, Buck, Tina, and Adam all whispered “Gus!” at the same time.
Buck immediately turned to head back to the emergency department. It wouldn’t take long, after all, just run in and unclip the large keyring from the security guard’s belt. Tina stopped him. “Don’t. We won’t be able to get back in.”
“What do you mean?”
“When the power’s out, the doors can only be opened from inside the department,” Dr. Crews said.
“Seriously?”
“Yeah. Sorry,” Tina said.
Grace and Rose returned from their examination of the doors.
“We going to go in there?” Grace asked, nodding her head toward the Radiology doors.
A single gunshot cracked, the sound echoing along the halls.
“Where did that come from?” Jessica asked.
“It was close,” Dr. Crews said. “The police officer would be my guess.”
Something made a noise behind the Radiology doors, a heavy sound, like a body falling or someone bumping heavily into something.
“Who is that?” Grace said aloud, making both men jump.
“Stand and be recognized!” Rose added, making her voice deep.
Grace giggled.
There was no answer but another thumping sound, closer, almost to the doors.
“I don’t think we need to go in there,” Dr. Crews said. “A regular person would have answered. We’re trying to save people, not act like hunters.”
“But we might need to come back this way,” Jessica said.
“She’s right,” Buck added, settling the brass knuckles on his right hand as he approached the door.
“Okay, but I want to avoid shooting if we can,” Dr. Crews replied, holding up his Walther. This holds seven rounds, and I only have one spare magazine.”
“These doors open out,” Grace said, stepping in front of Buck.
“So, me and Grace will open them,” Rose added, moving to one side.
“And get out of the way so you can do what you need to do,” Grace finished.
“Make those man muscles pop when you do it, though,” Rose said.
“Mm Hmm. Give us girls something to think about.”
Jessica giggled softly, and Dr. Crews struggled to keep a straight face.
“Open them on three,” Buck said.
“Nuh uh. We open on hot.”
“Don’t ask,” Jessica said.
“Okay,” Buck replied, smiling. “Let’s go on hot.”
“Dwayne,” Grace said.
“Johnson,” Rose said.
“Is.”
“Hot!”
Each woman twisted a knob and backed away, using the doors as shields.
A very large man, six-six if he was an inch and more than four hundred pounds, staggered toward the opening. Only his right leg worked properly, stepping forward. The left was broken below the knee, sharp shards of tibia protruding through the fabric of the man’s pant leg. The leg came forward but couldn’t support the man’s weight, despite that he didn’t appear to be in pain. But rather than buckling, it held him up just long enough for the big right leg to thump forward. That’s what they’d been hearing, a four-hundred-pound man’s limp.
“Oh my God,” Jessica breathed. “It’s Bobby.”
“Who?” Buck asked. The man couldn’t move very fast, but he wasn’t stopping, coming forward one awkward step at a time. His mouth curved in a half-smile, a natural expression on a face made for smiling, one of those jolly guys who saw the fun in everything. His hands came up, reaching, and his fingers curved like fat, taut sausages, ready to grab or claw.
“He’s the daytime Rad Tech, just sits in here and runs X-Rays and CTs. He sends the other techs out to do the portables.”
“He’s good people,” Rose offered from behind one door.
“Not his fault his too big to walk around all day,” Grace added.
“It’s a glandular thing,” Rose finished.
The mouth might be smiling, Buck thought, but the eyes told a different story. Lifeless and staring, no emotion touched the big man’s eyes.
No blood came from the leg wound either.
Buck backed away as Bobby came forward, ready to shout to the two receptionists if he made any move toward the doors.
Side-stepping slowly, Dr. Crews worked his way behind the large radiology technician. “He was bitten on the back of the neck,” the doctor said. “You can’t see it from out there, but the blue lines are running up into his head.”
At the sound of the doctor’s voice, Bobby began a slow and painstaking turn to the left. Unable to support the maneuver, the left leg folded sickeningly halfway down the shin, like a second knee had been installed. The much-thinner fibula snapped under the increased strain, and Bobby tilted sideways, falling onto his outstretched hands. Still without uttering a word of protest or pain, the large man began crawling toward Dr. Crews.
“Do something,” Jessica muttered. “You can’t just leave him like that. It’s not right.”
“Back of the neck, Buck,” Dr. Crews said, moving just enough to stay out of Bobby’s reach.
Buck swallowed and stepped forward, unsure if he could bring himself to hit a man that wasn’t a threat to anybody.
“Don’t think of him as a person, Buck. He’s a very sick animal that you can’t save. All you can do is put him out of his misery.”
It was all well and good for the doctor to say that, except Bobby didn’t appear to be in any misery.
Gus and Danny hadn’t either and they’d attacked like rabid dogs.
Buck had been trying to avoid a part of that mess, but it reared up in his mind like a pissed off horse. Gus had his throat torn out, but still came on. Tina and Dr. Crews checked everyone else acting crazy, and said they had no heartbeat. How was that possible?
Buck wasn’t a doctor and didn’t even have a degree equivalent to a nurse. Still, he’d seen and done more shit than just about anyone in an emergency room. What was possible or impossible on paper didn’t always translate to the real world. Paramedics dealt with what they faced, no matter how crazy or strange it seemed to be. Put quite simply, if you didn’t learn to roll with the punches, you didn’t last long on the street.
There were an awful lot of books, television shows, and movies that dealt with dead people walking. Maybe somewhere there was a grain of truth to it, and the common knowledge that it wasn’t possible was based on a lie. Dr. Crews and the police officer certainly seemed to accept it, the officer more aggressively than anyone.
This poor slob of a guy might not be in any pain, but what if he simply couldn’t express it anymore? He certainly looked pitiable, trying to stand and not able to find a way that didn’t involve his broken leg, reduced to crawling, but still unwilling to give up a desire to…to what? To catch and kill Dr. Crews? What if they left him alive and he got a hold of someone else? What if the next person was moved by the man’s condition without any understanding of what he might be capable of?
That’s what made Buck tighten his right hand into a fist, feeli
ng the cold metal of the knuckles squeezed in his palm as the rings pressed between his fingers. It wasn’t pity for the man. It was a way to protect someone else.
Raising his fist beside his hurt ear, Buck stepped forward and launched his fist down, aiming the first two knuckles at the nasty confluence of grayish, bulging blood vessels at the back of Bobby’s neck. He put everything he had into the overhand blow, adding his own weight as additional force by dropping to a knee as the punch connected, wanting this to be over, wanting this whole fucked-up day to be done with.
There was no dramatic crack of bone, just a soft and mildly disgusting squishy thunk like he was a poor boxer training in a meat locker, practicing punches on swinging cow carcasses. But Bobby stopped struggling, his hands and knees sliding away. There was another thud as he collapsed to the floor.
“There’s no one else in here,” Dr. Crews reported.
Buck stood and turned, walking back out to the hallway.
“Thanks,” Jessica said, laying a soft hand on his arm. Buck didn’t respond. He was too busy trying to keep the burn in his eyes from turning into tears.
China’s group, led by Karen with the ax and Brandon with his “man-stick,” took off down the left corridor, passing the Chief Nursing Officer’s office (not occupied on the weekends), and one of the two large conference rooms. The doors of the conference room were open wide, and the space was empty. The corridor dog-legged to the right, opening into a narrow hallway that saw only foot traffic on a normal day. With no medical suites or imaging centers, there were no reasons for any patients or family members to come this way. There were signs on the wall showing which way led to the Emergency Department, or to Radiology, or the Cafeteria, and there were the yellowish lights up near the ceiling, but otherwise the hallway was deserted. The right side wall was devoid of interruption all the way to the first crossing hallway, while the left half featured only the second—and largest—of the hospital’s conference rooms, a rectangular box of an area that served as a gathering place for everything from official board meetings to CPR and ACLS classes.
China saw none of it. Her focus was inward, on the burning pain lighting up the right side of her face, and on what it would mean if she was permanently blind in her right eye.
