Friggin Zombies

by N. C. Reed

  “I don't think we're being bad people, or doctors,” Connie said, almost as if trying to reassure herself.

  “Hey, is that Madeline. . .person, a doctor?” I asked suddenly.

  “She used to be,” Smith snorted. “She's become a bureaucrat since she took over the hospital.”

  “Well, she can pretend to be one again and work the night shift then,” I said firmly. The two of them looked at me, then looked at each other and suddenly broke into laughter.

  “They'd be better off with a witch doctor,” Smith laughed. “Seriously. She hasn't seen a real patient in. . .I don't even know how long,” he finished after the pause to think. “Six, seven years at least.”

  “Can't see where that's your fault,” I said simply.

  “It's not, but it's a hard decision,” he admitted. “Still, I can't call myself much of a father if I don't take care of my own children.”

  “No question,” I nodded.

  “Well, we better get back and check on things,” Connie stood. “The mom's scan should be done by now. I'm sure she needs surgery, but how much I don't know.”

  “And there's no surgeon here,” Smith nodded grimly. “I'm sure they're calling someone, but if I was safe at home and it getting close to dark? My phone would probably not be on.”

  “I always check my voice mail first thing every morning,” I laughed.

  The two of them were still chuckling as they filed out to return to the business of sick and injured people. I had tried to make them laugh and I had. I hoped it was enough.

  The rest of the afternoon was pretty uneventful considering that the situation outside was deteriorating steadily. Wow, that sounded like a sound-bite for a news program didn't it? What I meant to say was that the world outside was going to hell on a Slip-n-Slide coated with vegetable oil.

  Connie's original shift was seven to three. Typical day shift hours in most places I guess. She and Smith had agreed to stay for another half-shift, which would place us leaving at seven that evening. I didn't want us to be out after dark like that but there wasn't much to do about it. If this happened tomorrow though I didn't know that I wouldn't argue with her about staying that late. Maybe work six in the morning to six in the evening, or something like that. We'd have the light most of the day.

  It wasn't that I minded being at the hospital at night. That wasn't it. But I didn't want the house setting there empty even with the alarm. Not to mention the fact that no matter how careful you were, you were vulnerable in the failing light. If someone was casing the hospital they would see us come and go. If they were casing the house, they could hit us at the gate coming or going.

  I knew there was no way to eliminate the risks but we could minimize them, right? When you're in a potential war zone, you change the way you do things to accommodate that kind of situation. You can't count on police protection any more, you can't count on any emergency services for that matter. You damn sure can't count on human kindness because when it looks like the end of the world, there ain't no human kindness. There's just people who will do anything to survive.

  It doesn't matter to some people that you worked hard to have what you have. The fact is you have it, they need it, so it's only 'fair' that you hand it over. And there are people out there that will 'sympathize' with the thief. You will note however that the libtards who are advocating for the 'distressed and under-privileged' have never been the victim of said distressed and under-privileged thugs. How many times did you see where some person famous for anti-gun advocacy had shot a home invader, or been found in possession of an illegal weapon. But that was different. Why? Because it was them, that's why.

  It wasn't personal but I worked hard to make sure I was prepared. On top of that I now had Connie to worry about taking care of. If she reads that she'll probably hit me, but that's what happens, man. You care about someone and you start worrying about taking care of them, you know?

  And that meant making sure nothing happened to her. Or to my ability to take care of her, either. Circular thinking brings me back to it's safer if we aren't out in the world after dark. But there was no way around it for today. It would be dark before we could leave, and that was assuming we left at seven. Connie had sounded firm about going home, but I knew how dedicated she was so there was the chance that she would agree to stay longer. If she did I would stay with her, but I really didn't want us to. In the end it would be up to her.

  At least it was supposed to be.

  *****

  “Hey man, you got a minute?” Jacobs asked quietly. “Need to talk to you in private.” I looked at him quizzically but followed him to an empty exam room.

  “Listen, things are about to get intense in a few minutes,” he said softly, looking through the door as if to see if anyone was listening in. “That troll that runs the hospital has managed to get someone to sign off on an order to keep your doctor and all the other staff working whether they want to or not.”

  “That can't even approach being legal,” I objected.

  “It's not, but who's going to say so?” he shrugged. “I owe you man, so I'm giving you a heads up. You didn't get this from me. You got about ten minutes before the order comes down. Tops.”

  “Thanks, Ham,” I nodded. “Be safe, brother,” I added.

  “Good luck,” he nodded and offered his hand. We shook and then he was gone, back to the door. I waited half-a-minute before going straight to where Connie was finishing a chart.

  “Get your things,” I told her softly. “We're leaving, right now. We've got about ten minutes before they lock this place down tight to prevent you, any of you, from leaving.” Her eyes widened as the import of what I'd said hit her.

  “I have to tell Smith,” she said finally. “He has children.”

  “Do the rest of them?” I asked, waving around the room. She paused.

  “I don't know,” she admitted. “I don't know many of them that well.”

  “You can tell him but be ready to hit the door when you do,” I told her. “I'm not leaving here without you and I'm not about to leave you here with this crowd. It's too dangerous at this point.”

  “Okay,” she nodded and hurried away, catching Smith as he emerged from an exam room. I hadn't told her where I got my information and I had my tablet in hand so she might assume that I'd seen it in the news. I didn't want Ham in trouble over this. I saw Smith's face cloud up and then he was moving. Connie came back to where I was waiting, stopping by the small office to grab her bag. Before anyone was the wiser we were at the back door.

  Ralph was gone but there was another guy sitting there, reading.

  “Sorry Doctor Kane,” he said, standing. “No one's allowed to leave through this door.”

  “Sorry Pete, but we parked back here,” Connie never slowed, heading for the door in question. 'Pete' had an extra helping of stupid that morning with his breakfast I guess because he grabbed her by the arm.

  “You can't leave, Doctor-” and that was as far as he got before I clocked him in the jaw. I was moving when I hit him so my weight was behind it and he staggered back two steps before sprawling on the floor, tripped up by his chair.

  “Go!” I said urgently and pushed her toward the door as I shoved Baby's keys into her hand. She never hesitated. 'Pete' and his aborted attempt to stop us from leaving was all the proof we needed that things had gotten real in a hurry. 'Pete' was trying to get up.

  “Do yourself a favor and stay there,” I warned. “You should never have put your hands on her. Do it again and I'll end you.” I shouldn't have said that I guess, but I was mad. What I really wanted to do was put a round in his head but I figured he was following orders. Of course he had to be the type that would attack a woman to get those orders and follow them, but still he was just a peon. That witch Madeline was responsible for this.

  There was no way any of this shit was legal and that was all the justification I needed for anything I had to do to keep us from being trapped in that hospital. I was out the door righ
t behind Connie. She was already inside, driver's door open. I flipped the kill switch as I climbed in and hit the key. Baby started right up and five seconds later we were moving.

  “Buckle up,” I ordered, doing the same as I negotiated the parking lot. “I expect things to be exciting on the trip home.”

  “I can't believe she would try that shit!” Connie was angry now that the immediate danger was past. “After all we did today!”

  “She needs a bullet in the head,” I nodded. At this point I probably should have been alarmed at how easy it was becoming for me to think about using violence on people. I wasn't though. Everyone I'd done anything to had been asking for it. I hadn't really had anything to do with Vaccine Guy and Towel Girl (never did get their names. Sorry.), but I had killed Methie of course, threatened a soldier, punched out the janitorial guy at the back door, the list was growing.

  This was what I had been worrying over, to be honest. Things were getting really bad and people like Madeline were trying to force others into a bad situation to cover their asses. She and others like her still hadn't gotten it yet. Ass covering days were coming to an end. Her court order or whatever it was wouldn't be worth the paper it was written on without someone who had the ability to enforce it. Jacobs might or might not do it, but there would be someone, somewhere, who would.

  And sooner or later I'd probably have to kill them.

  “Watch behind us,” I ordered. “Make sure no one gets on our tail. And help me watch for trouble,” I added.

  “It's dark,” she noted.

  “That happens when the sun goes down,” I nodded absently.

  “Smart ass,” she shot back. “I meant it's dark. A lot of the lights are out.”

  I had not noticed that so intent was I on escaping our almost prison, but she was right. About half the street lights were off, usually in strips of five or six. Almost like every other circuit was off or blown.

  “I didn't mean it smart,” I told her. “I've been thinking about the sun being down when you would be out for a while now. Freaks come out at night,” I added, remembering an old song from my childhood.

  “Too true,” she nodded as she turned to look behind us. “I don't think anyone is following us. Not that I can tell, anyway.”

  “Keep an eye out,” I replied. “I'll change us up some as we go, take some wrong streets, that kind of thing. That should help us see if there's someone following us.”

  I proceeded to do just that, weaving through traffic and turning quickly at odd places to see if anyone pursued.

  “Nothing,” Connie reported after the third such turn. “I think we're okay.”

  “Then let's get home,” I said, pulling out onto the highway and gunning the engine.

  “Let's do,” she sighed.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  Okay, so saying 'Lets get home' is far easier than actually doing it sometimes. As we hit the main flow of traffic it became apparent that Madeline was not the only one trying to exert her influence on others. We could see roving groups of people that ranged from obvious gangs to collections of business owners to what looked to be more or less neighborhood watch patrols. The lights being off in places allowed the shine from a half dozen fires to glow against the night sky, giving the town a spooky look. Like something from a scary movie.

  I didn't want to be in a scary movie. Or any movie for that matter.

  Worse, I had not really taken into account how noticeable Big Baby was. I mean I never had worried about it since I always enjoyed showing her off, you know? What had always seemed to be a plus for all that hard work was now looking like an impediment.

  “You know it's going to be hard to hide in this thing,” Connie said just then, almost as if reading my mind.

  “I'd just thought of that,” I admitted. “Taking this thing seemed the way to go this morning. I thought we might need the power or the height to get around. You know? Now she's just a shining beacon telling everyone where we are.”

  “They would know anyway,” Connie pointed out. “I was actually thinking that it would be hard to get around without drawing attention we might not want. We're obviously better prepared than, well, everybody,” she raised her hands in a shrug. “Panicky people tend to try and attach themselves to someone who can protect them. We look like that someone.”

  She was right. Another thing I hadn't thought of, not really. Sure I went through that brief bit where I thought about James maybe wanting to impose on my non-existent hospitality, but otherwise I hadn't considered it. I mean, not many people knew I was into preparedness at all, so it never crossed my mind to be overly concerned about others wanting to make themselves at home on my dime.

  Don't misunderstand me now. I got nothing against helping others where I can. But this wasn't shaping up to be one of those times. It was looking like a complete and total breakdown in society, followed of course by the potential for hordes of the walking dead dining on anyone they happen to catch up with.

  At a time like that, I admit that helping others took a back seat to helping myself. Sounds bad maybe, but I prefer pragmatic. Doesn't do me any good to help someone at my own expense. We just both end up dead.

  “You have an excellent point,” I sighed. “I hadn't considered it that way either. I'm used to hiding. Well, mostly,” I added. “Lot of people know I'm a shooter, or a hunter, or a prepper, but not all three. In fact only you really knew all that,” I admitted. “Moment of weakness for a pretty girl who happened to be a kindred spirit,” I grinned.

  “Sure,” she rolled her eyes as she drew the word out. “So what do we do?” she asked.

  “We go home,” I repeated. “Like I said, that was the rationale behind using this beast to start with. So we could get home, no matter what. If someone tries to stop us or follow us, we deal with it as it comes. There's really nothing else to do. But we are done venturing out into the world after this,” I told her. “No more. We've helped as many people as we can. We've done more than most and that's enough. It's seriously time we start looking after ourselves. Past it, really.”

  “Okay,” she nodded. “All helping others has done is cause us more trouble.”

  “Too true,” I had to agree. “Okay, we're almost to the bridge,” I noted. “Are we still looking okay?” I had no sooner than spoke when a set of headlights came bouncing out of a side street and onto the road behind us. I tensed, wondering if this was going to be a police car. I didn't want to shoot a cop but if he tried to stop us or take Connie back to that hospital then whatever happened to him was his fault I reasoned.

  “Is that a cop, you think?” I asked her, unable to look away from the crazy traffic for long. “And are they following us, or just behind us?”

  “Lights are too bright, I can't make it out,” Connie admitted, turning in her seat to look between us. “Wait.” I waited but there was nothing else.

  “How long do I wait?” I asked.

  “It's a truck,” she said finally. “A low-rider from the look of it. That's why it looked like a car.”

  “That could be good or bad,” I mused. “Good that it's not a cop sent to try and drag you back to the hospital-”

  “Try?” she interrupted.

  “Yeah that's not happening,” I assured her. “Or bad that it's someone who was waiting for someone like us who, as you pointed out, looks prepared.”

  “Or it could just be someone who's in a hurry to get somewhere,” she added.

  “That too,” I agreed. “Anything else? If it was a medical emergency they'd be going the other way.”

  “True,” she mused. “Could be going to help a family member in trouble, or trying to get someplace they created with just this scenario in mind.”

  “You mean an emergency in general or the Zombie Apocalypse?” I had to ask. “Cause if they anticipated the Zombie Apocalypse that doesn't seem to speak highly of their mental state.”

  “Unless you're having a Zombie Apocalypse,” she pointed out wryly.

  “Another go
od point,” I conceded. “What are they doing?” I asked as the lights behind us moved across my mirror.

  “They're coming up beside us,” she warned, turning back in her seat and drawing her pistol. She held it in both hands, down between her knees.

  “Hold on,” I ordered and hit the brakes. I didn't slam them on like in the movies since that's an extremely dumb thing to do (especially in a high profile vehicle) but I didn't just tap them like you would to get a tailgater to back off of your bumper, either. One of the upgrades I had made on Baby was an anti-lock brake system. It hadn't been cheap, but like I said; brakes locking on a ride this tall is a bad move.

  Baby's speed dropped off in a hurry and the accelerating low rider raced by us. Now we would see what happened. I hit the gas again but not nearly as hard, waiting.

  The low-rider's brake lights came on.

  “Well, I guess that answers that question,” I sighed, downshifting manually and hitting the gas again. The truck looked as if it was going to try and cut us off and I timed it just right, hitting the left lane just as he hit ours, flooring the accelerator at the same time. Four hundred and fifty horses screamed beneath the hood as Big Baby shot past the truck, accelerating rapidly as we did so. As we shot by I caught a glimpse of a shotgun barrel in the driver's window.

  “Gun!” I shouted, but Connie had already seen it. We were by before the shotgun could be used on us, but now it was behind us. I began to weave from one lane to the other hoping it would make us harder to hit. I already knew that there was no way for us to outrun this guy. His truck wasn't pushing nearly as much weight or rubber as Big Baby was and might have almost as much horsepower. We were going to have to try something different.

  Connie reached across to the console and hit the switch for the rear window.

  “What are you doing?” I asked her. Riding with the rear window open on one of these things was a first class invite to carbon monoxide poisoning.