The Virus

by Lee, Damien

  The two women made their way down the corridor, approaching the bloody scene once more. The onlookers had all dispersed, with only the crimson pools serving as a grisly reminder of their ordeal. ‘Wet floor’ signs had appeared at opposite ends, with a lone cleaner mopping up the blood and vomit. They watched the man’s exhausted efforts. His face had adopted a grey hue and dark rings circled his bloodshot eyes. The handle trembled in his hands as he leaned heavily on it for support. Amy watched as more of the white floor was painted red by the cleaner’s efforts.

  “Gary, are you okay?”

  A tall, middle-aged doctor approached. The cleaner didn’t respond, but went about his task in the same sluggish manner. The doctor looked at the two nurses who shrugged their shoulders.

  “I don’t mean to pry, but shouldn’t the rest of the cleaning team be dealing with this?”

  They looked at the red pool, which had significantly increased since they had arrived. Despite the efforts of the lethargic cleaner, the pool was expanding.

  “I guess they’re all tied up,” Joyce answered the man. “There have been situations like this all morning: vomiting blood, seizures, the lot.”

  “I know. I’ve just examined a patient who came in earlier with those symptoms.”

  “Have you established what’s causing it?” Amy asked, tearing her gaze away from the cleaner.

  “No. But there will be an autopsy. That should establish a cause.”

  “Wait, autopsy?”

  “Yes, the gentleman died. He suffered a seizure before going into cardiac arrest. We tried to revive him, but his heart had given up.”

  “The same thing happened here,” Joyce said. “Two patients with the same symptoms and both went into cardiac arrest.”

  Amy nodded in agreement, her eyes fixed on the gory pool that was gradually creeping closer. The cleaner mopped in a figure of eight, sending waves of liquid rolling towards the walls. The trio stepped back as the crimson ripples threatened to flow around the soles of their shoes.

  “Where the hell did all this blood come from?” Joyce said, looking around at the scene with a newfound awareness. Amy stared at the cleaner’s feet, just as a fresh stream of gore poured from his mouth.

  “It’s coming from him.” She gasped, pointing at the man’s bowed head. The three of them watched as a thin strand of scarlet fluid oozed down, dripping onto his shoes.

  “Gary, you need help!”

  The doctor rushed forward, his feet splashing amongst the blood. He put his hand on the inflicted man who suddenly sprang to life. The doctor’s scream echoed around the corridor as Gary clamped his teeth onto his hand. He tried to get away, but within seconds the demented man was on his back, dragging him to the ground.

  Amy leapt forward as the doctor fought to push the lunatic away. Both men were coated in blood as they wrestled for the upper hand; the doctor whimpering, the cleaner growling. Amy grabbed the cleaner’s arm whilst Joyce knelt on his back, forcing his head to the side. Gary snarled, fighting to be free. The doctor staggered to his feet, grabbing the other flailing arm and pinning it behind the man’s back.

  “Amy, get security!” Joyce stammered. “We’ll hold him.”

  The doctor seized the other arm, allowing Amy to move. She sprinted down the corridor, her heart hammering, her breath caught in her lungs. She turned a corner, greeted by a row of closed doors in another empty corridor. She tried each door as she ran down the hall, crying out in frustration when none of them would open. Finally, the last door granted her entry.

  The well-lit room was an office. Twin desks stood up against the window with computers and paperwork atop both. Amy caught sight of the phone and grabbed the handset. She racked her brain, desperately trying to remember the number for security. Her memory failed her, and she had to contact the operator.

  “Hello, Sunnymoor Hospital,” a female voice crooned.

  “Security, please.”

  “One moment.”

  The line went silent. Amy tapped her fingers against the desk anxiously, willing someone to pick up the phone. Her heavy breathing whooshed down the line. She toyed with the phone cord as a high-pitched scream echoed down the hall. Amy spun round. It sounded like Joyce. Finally, a voice sounded on the other end of the phone.

  “Security.”

  “We need help. There’s someone attacking staff in the main corridor outside of the nurse’s station!”

  “Everyone is responding to a call at the minute,” the man replied. “I’ll send a message for the nearest person to attend once they have dealt with their call-out.”

  “But he’s biting people!”

  “Biting?”

  “Yes!”

  “Look, there’s nothing I can do at the minute. I’ll ring the police and I’ll send a member of the team as soon as they’re free.”

  Amy slammed the receiver down and darted out of the office. If security wasn’t coming, then she had to help Joyce and the doctor herself. She sprinted back down the corridor. Her heart hammered in her chest, the blood-curdling scream still fresh in her mind. She dared not imagine what sights would greet her as she turned the corner.

  She stopped in her tracks, trying to muster a scream. Her legs softened, her body trembled, and her lungs ached from the breath trapped inside.

  The doctor’s body lay a few feet from his killer, who was kneeling with his back to Amy. She realised with horror that he was hunched over the still form of Joyce Khaliq. Her colleague’s unblinking eyes stared at the ceiling as the cleaner busied himself tearing chunks out of her face. The squelching of flesh being ripped from bone met Amy’s ears, and the putrid stench of excrement and decay invaded her nose. It was too much. The hot spurt of vomit erupted from her mouth, and she retched as it showered the floor. The noise alerted the cannibal. He whirled around, regarding her with wide eyes. Clasped in the man’s teeth was a lump of brown flesh, which swayed as he jumped to his feet. An evil grin creased his face. The flesh fell to the ground with a splat as he let out an almighty roar.

  Without warning, he sprinted towards her, arms outstretched, his eyes hungry. Amy turned and bolted back around the corner. The rapid footfalls behind her drew near. She ran as fast as she could, pushing her body to its limit. Her legs felt heavy and her breathing laboured, but she pushed on.

  Her footsteps echoed around the empty corridor. The cannibal screeched. He was faster than her. He was getting closer. Amy looked ahead as a tall male stepped into the corridor ahead. He held a large sports bag and a jacket that draped his arm.

  “Help!”

  She watched a frown crease the man’s face as he turned. She grabbed his shoulder to slow herself.

  “He’s killing people!” she cried.

  The man dropped the sports bag as the cannibal lunged at him. “What the hell?”

  The lunatic squealed in excitement as he collided with the pair. The impact pushed Amy aside as the other two fell to the ground. She gasped as the cannibal wormed his way on top of the man. He lurched forward, trying to bite his struggling victim. The man held the lunatic under the chin, forcing his mouth shut and his head backward.

  “The bag,” he said. “Open the bag.”

  Amy grabbed the long sports bag. Inside there were several items used in cricket. She could see balls, wickets, shin guards, and two cricket bats. She grabbed the first bat and turned to face the pair. Although the man held his attacker by the throat, the distance between them had decreased. The cannibal was only inches from his face. In a brief motion, Amy lifted the bat over her shoulder and swung it sideways with all her strength. She hit the cleaner above his temple, sending him hurtling into the wall.

  The broad man jumped to his feet.

  “Quick!”

  He snatched the bat from her. Raising the weapon above his shoulder, he swung it in a downward arc. It cracked on top of the lunatic’s head. The blow sent him crashing to the ground, smashing his face into the tiled floor. They watched as he twitched for a few seconds before layin
g still. Amy stared in silence, waiting for a sign of movement. The man with the bat eyed the maroon stain on the edge of his makeshift weapon.

  “I think I killed the bastard.” He dug into his pocket and produced a two-way radio. “Geoff, it’s Ben, we’ve got an incident outside the East Wing changing rooms.”

  “We’ve got incidents everywhere, Ben.” Static tainted the man’s voice.

  “Yeah? Well, I got a psycho here who could be dead or just unconscious. We need some more security, police and medics.”

  “Jesus, Ben, I don’t have anyone to spare! The police are on their way, though. I just had a call from some woman saying there’s a bloke biting people!”

  Amy felt Ben’s gaze on her, but she didn’t look up. Her eyes were fixed on the motionless corpse.

  “Yeah, I think I got him. Just send them to the East Wing corridor when they get here.”

  Ben returned the radio to his pocket and rounded on Amy.

  “What the hell’s going on?”

  Amy remained silent, her eyes still glued to the dead body.

  3

  The harsh buzz of the alarm stirred Frank from his slumber. He rolled onto his side and winced at the searing pain in his ribs. The clatter of opening cell doors came from a distance. He could hear the laughter and conversing of inmates as guards ushered them down to the canteen. He rolled onto his back, squeezing his eyes tight in response to the powerful overhead lights. His body ached from the previous night. His knuckles were sore and his nose throbbed as he lifted himself out of bed.

  The white-wash walls adorned with medical charts seemed unfamiliar at first. He glanced around, taking in the alien environment before he realised he was lying in an inpatient bed. He’d only been there twice in the past. The first time was after his futile brawl with Big Tony. He could remember that day well, and the excruciating pain he had suffered.

  The second time had been a few months later in another of his fights with a prisoner called Charlie Clapton. The man had been a supposed ‘easy opponent’ to make Frank a bit of money. It was true. The fight was over in less than twenty seconds after a few well-timed body shots that had instantly floored Clapton. It was then that things got worse. As Frank turned his back on the downed opponent, the man produced a shiv and attacked him in a fit of rage. Frank had suffered multiple stab wounds from the vicious onslaught and had spent over a week in hospital. Charlie Clapton had not been seen since.

  Frank looked around as he reminisced about his previous visits. Not much had changed except a few new light fittings and two extra beds in the corner. His roaming eyes eventually fell upon a guard stood in the doorway. The man’s dark moustache stretched across his face as he grinned, bearing yellowed teeth. His cold, brown eyes were fixed on Frank.

  “How are you feeling, Lee?” Henderson asked as he stepped forward.

  “Like a nun in a brothel. What the hell do you want?”

  “That’s no way to talk to a concerned well-wisher.” The guard sneered, stopping a few feet away. “I’m only here to check how you’re doing.”

  “Of course you are.” Frank glanced around the room. “I don’t see any grapes, flowers, ‘Get Well Soon’ cards, nothing.”

  “What can I say, the prison gift shop isn’t well-stocked.” Henderson sniggered, perching on the side of the bed. “No, I’m just here for your answer.”

  “What?”

  “Well, I’ve let you sleep on it, now I want to know how you’re going to lose your next fight.”

  “Drop dead, Henderson. There’s nothing you can do to me worse than what Gus and his boys would do if I throw the fight.”

  “You disappoint me, Frank. And I don’t think Jones will be happy either.” Henderson rose from the bed.

  “Oh yeah, I forgot about your bitch. Where is he? Humping the governor?”

  “No, he had to go home; family emergency.”

  “What happened? His old lady been caught fucking the postman?”

  “Now there’s no need for crudeness, Lee,” Henderson chided in mock surprise. “Jonesy’s missus is a faithful, devoted housewife. And, she’s an ugly cunt; the postman wouldn’t go near her.”

  “Yeah, I bet. Now, if you don’t mind, Henderson, I believe visiting times are non-existent on this ward, I think you should leave.”

  “Karma’s a bitch, Lee. Remember that. Now, are you sure there’s no changing your mind?”

  “Not a chance.”

  “Well, that is a shame. I suppose I’ll have to take matters into my own hands.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Frank watched as the guard strolled to a nearby cupboard. He reached inside and produced a pump-action shotgun. He held the weapon admiringly before aiming it at Frank’s face.

  “Still adamant you won’t change your mind?”

  “What the fuck’s that doing in there!”

  “I stashed it while you were sleeping. I didn’t want to turn nasty if you were willing to co-operate.”

  “Well, you’ll have to kill me, Henderson. I’m not rigging the fight.”

  “Oh, this won’t kill you, just a little something to tip the odds in my favour.”

  Frank looked on in horror as the guard aimed the weapon at his arm. He pulled the trigger, sending a shooting pain up Frank’s shoulder. He roared in agony as the rubber bullet bounced away. The crack of the shotgun echoed in his ears as he doubled over, clutching his injured arm. He thought he’d gone deaf until he heard Henderson’s voice from afar.

  “By the way, your next fight is tonight. You’ll be up against some shitty arse so it’ll all appear in your favour. Be sure to make it look legit.”

  The guard’s laughter droned through his skull as Henderson turned and walked away. Frank tried to flex his fingers, sending another wave of pain shooting up his arm. He knew if he was fighting that night, it would be impossible to win. He felt himself succumb to unconsciousness as approaching footsteps announced the doctor’s arrival.

  ***

  The warm rays from the sun blanketed the newlyweds as they lay in a field of lush grass. The trickle of water from a nearby stream provided a soundtrack for the couple’s day out. They had returned from their honeymoon, and with four days holiday remaining, the pair had decided to take a walk in the country. Following a stroll through the winding trails of forests and fields, they finally rested at their favourite beauty spot.

  “What a lovely day.”

  Leigh smiled, lying back on the tartan blanket. She adjusted her sunglasses and closed her eyes, savouring the warmth of the sun against her skin. Adrian sat down at her side. He picked at the blades of grass before running one of the long, green strands over his wife’s bare midriff. Leigh squirmed under the touch and slapped his hand playfully.

  “Quit it.”

  Adrian grinned and continued tickling her with the grass, running it over her denim shorts and down her right leg until it reached her shoes.

  “I said quit it.”

  She sat up and snatched the blade of grass. Adrian chuckled as she lowered herself back against the blanket.

  “Isn’t it peaceful here?”

  “Sure is,” Adrian said. “And look; no signal.”

  He raised his mobile phone into view.

  “It’s one of the best things about being out here,” Leigh said.

  “Yeah, your mother can’t interrupt.”

  Adrian rolled away as his wife swatted him. They lay apart, Leigh basking in the rays of the sun and Adrian plucking more blades of grass.

  “There’s one thing that’s not so good about this place,” Adrian muttered, rubbing his hands. “All the damn spiders.”

  “Oh, you have to ruin it, don’t you?” Leigh shifted uneasily, dusting her arms and legs.

  The couple fell silent once more, the slow running stream and twittering of birds creating a calm ambience. A few minutes went by before Adrian glanced at his wife. He grinned when he saw her eyes closed. He plucked another piece of grass and shuffled closer.

>   “You should see the size of this spider I’ve found,” he said. “Here, look.”

  Leigh shrieked as he dropped the grass on her forehead. She jumped up and shook her head, running fingers through her long, golden hair. She glared at her husband as a long blade of grass drifted to the ground.

  “You!”

  Adrian jumped to his feet as his wife chased him towards the stream. The birds dwelling in the trees fled their nest and soared high into the air as the couple’s shrieks of laughter drew near. Adrian jumped into the stream, feeling the cool touch of the water which rose as high as his ankles. Leigh stopped short and stared at him with her arms crossed.

  “You can’t stay in there forever,” she said, her eyebrows raised.

  “You’re not coming in?”

  “No, I’m not. God knows what you’ll catch in there!”

  “You’re more likely to catch something out there than in here.”

  Adrian stooped down and rubbed the water up his arms. The cool touch soothed his tender flesh, which he assumed had been sunburned. He cupped some water into his hand and splashed his face to the dismay of his wife.

  “Urgh, I’m not kissing you again.”

  “C’mon it’s fine.”

  She shrieked as he hurled a handful of water in her direction.

  “Don’t,” she said, as the second wave showered her legs.

  Adrian laughed as he soaked her for the third time. This time her shriek was diminished by a louder one. They both looked up as a large bird circled above them. It called out again, its beady eyes staring at the couple.

  “I think we should go back.”

  Adrian stepped out of the water, ushering Leigh away from the stream. Both kept their eyes glued to the bird as they cautiously made their way up the bank. All at once, it stopped circling. With an ear-splitting screech, it darted towards them.

  “Run!” Adrian urged, but Leigh had already raced back to their blanket. He ran after her, just as the massive bird swooped over his head. He felt a gush of wind as its talons grazed his ear. It flew ahead of him towards his wife. Leigh shrieked as the bird attacked her. She swung her arms, slapping its heavy wings as it tore at her face. She dropped to the ground, shielding her head and rolling onto her stomach as Adrian ran over.