American Revenant (Book 3): The Monster In Man

by John L. Davis IV

  “Gotta admit, that was kind of fun,” Alex said with a grin.

  “Damn right it was, man,” Jimmy added.

  “Anyone know a carwash close by?” Rick asked, chuckling.

  “Oh hell, I’m not picking that shit out of there,” Dean told the others. “Hey Calvin, you wanna clean this up?” Dean called back to his brother, who now leaned against the car, spitting out the bile that had risen up the back of his throat.

  Calvin tried to spit a curse at his smart-ass younger brother, only managing a weak croak. He shot up his middle finger instead, waving it at Dean.

  “This is good a place as any to do a little recon,” Rick told the assembled crew.

  Spreading out, but staying close to the vehicles, they used scoped rifles or binoculars to view the distant buildings and parking areas of the hospital and surrounding structures.

  “I don’t see much in the lots, a few wandering, with maybe a small cluster in the farthest lot that I can see from here,” Dean said from the top of the trailer. Several others affirmed Dean’s assessment.

  “The cancer center is blocking the view of the clinic’s west lot. Every other parking lot looks to be full of cars.”

  “Let’s assume that there are a bunch of them behind cars that we can’t see,” Rick said, speaking to everyone. “We go straight to the back door, which I’m sure has a coded lock on it.”

  “If it’s an electronic lock, would it have released when its circuits were fried?” Mike asked.

  “Couldn’t say, but we can hope. If not we’ll have to break it open somehow, pry-bars to pull the door away from the frame or something. Everyone think on it, just in case.” Rick moved back to the truck, climbing into the cab, “Not going into the back when we’ll be there in a minute.”

  Minutes from the intersection Alex was backing the truck into the only remaining empty dock left. One was taken up by a large roll-off dumpster, the other a dropped trailer, no big truck in sight.

  Calvin, his face still bearing a faint green cast from being sick, pulled up in front of the truckless trailer, next to the cab of the GMC General.

  Carrying one of the suppressed rifles, Mike and Jimmy posted up to stand guard while the others checked the door.

  The long dock was served by a single large bay door, and double-door entry with a keypad. As the men stepped onto the dock they could hear movement behind the bay door.

  “Damn, not going to waste any time getting to the thick of it, are we,” Jimmy said.

  Rick walked quickly to the entry doors, hoping for a small piece of luck. He peered through the narrow windows, seeing nothing in the hallway beyond he gripped one of the door handles, depressing the thumb release. The mechanism made a clicking noise inside the door, one that Rick felt certain was much louder inside the building, but it did not give. The door was locked tight.

  Calvin brought two crowbars from the trunk of the De Soto, passing one to Rick. “One at the top, one near the bottom, we may be able to break the lock,” he said quietly.

  “It’ll be loud as hell, too,” Rick said. “Not sure we have another choice though.”

  “Guys, wait.” Mike stood near the bay door, ear cocked, listening. Rick and Calvin paused, a silent question on each man’s face. “Look,” Mike said, pointing toward the base of the door, which was lifted about an inch above the pocked and stained cement of the dock.

  Alex and Rick met at the bay door, while Calvin stood at the entry doors, waiting, watching.

  Listening intently they could hear shuffling feet inside the room behind the bay door, though they were unable to discern how many dead waited for them. “Bang on it, get their attention, or just throw it open and deal with what comes out?” Alex asked in a whisper.

  Mike shrugged, confusion showing on his broad face.

  “Everyone off the dock, stand at the edge between the trailers, if too many come out we draw them off and use the suppressed rifles to take them out.” Everyone moved off the dock at Rick’s suggestion, except Alex and Rick, standing back while Jimmy and Mike posted near the edge of the dock, silenced weapons shouldered.

  Rick and Alex watched the base of the door for a moment before slipping fingers beneath. Both took a deep breath, nodded and pushed up with their legs while lifting with their arms, throwing the door up in one swift move.

  Both men jumped back from the gaping maw of the door, stepped to the edge of the dock and dropped down to the ground, turning to watch as moans erupted behind them.

  Daylight lightened the darkness only a few feet into the large space of the receiving area, leaving the rest pitch black. Tense, sweat beading on their foreheads, the men watched as two zombies, one dressed in a janitor’s uniform and another in medical scrubs shuffled into the light, their hunger vocalized as the saw their prey standing beyond the dock.

  Mike and Jimmy placed their sights on the faces of the two, breathed and fired, the popping noise echoing around the covered dock. They glanced at each other, smiling at the shots they had made, and placed a hand on the edge of the cement, preparing to hop back up onto the dock and clear the room.

  Into the light shuffled two more, then another, then three. First a doctor, sleeve of his lab-coat torn away, a gaping bite wound in his shoulder showing bone. Two nurses, the left side of one’s face missing, the eye hanging loosely from the optic nerve, bouncing on her cheek with each shambling step, the other with thick red hair, now matted and coarse with dried gore, looking as if she had buried her entire head inside someone. Another janitor and two dressed in the classic ass-open hospital johnny, all in various mangled states of deterioration and decay, all covered in dried blood and bits of human remains.

  “Shit,” Mike said, stepping back. Once again, he and Jimmy took aim, firing slow successive shots, taking the doctor first, then one of the nurses. A minute later all six were dead on the dock, the last close to the edge, sightless eyes staring into Jimmy’s, causing him to shudder.

  “Well, that went smooth,” Calvin said, following Rick and Alex up the steps on the far right side of the dock area.

  The group gathered at the door, weapons ready as they stared into the waiting darkness. Alex took a small flashlight from his pocket, flicking the little plastic nub to turn on a weak yellowish light, the other men following suit, bringing lights to bear.

  “We can stand here all day, or we can clear this room and get started with this thing,” Mike said as he stepped into the dark room.

  The large receiving area had little stock in it, most of it taken to its respective departments soon after being received, leaving a mostly open floor for the men to scan. After a quick tour of the room proved there was nothing hiding in the shadows waiting to take a bite out of someone, the men congregated at a pair of double doors, one of which hung open, leading into hallway dimly lit by a window at the furthest end from them.

  “Nothing in the hall,” Dean said, drawing his head back through the open door.

  “I say we close this up for a minute, work out where we start from here,” Mike offered to the group.

  “We need to get those bodies off the dock,” Rick said, closing the door to the hall and turning the lock.

  The men stood looking at each other, waiting for someone else to volunteer for the nasty job. “Fine, you fucking pansies, I’ll do it,” Dean said. He pulled a pair of leather work gloves from a pocket, tugging them on as he walked out through the bay door. Wordlessly, Jimmy joined Dean, pulling on a pair of thin brown jersey gloves.

  Mike stood outside the big door, keeping watch as the two men dragged the bodies to the far end of the dock, rolling them off onto the ground, away from the trailers.

  Inside, Calvin stood watch at the double doors while Alex and Rick looked through the sparse supplies in the room. Several boxes stacked on a two-wheel dolly turned out to be cases of blue nitrile gloves, while two large crates were electronic diagnostic instruments, useless to them.

  “Dock’s clear,” Mike said.

  Rick called e
veryone over to the locked double doors leading out into the hospital. Pointing to a fire escape map that showed the basic floor plan of the hospital he said to the men, “Looks like this hallway will take us to the laundry service area, administrative offices, and cafeteria, as well as reception. I’m thinking two groups of three, search through these areas, make sure we can get around fairly easily.”

  “Obviously we are bringing everything back here. How are we going to move everything?”

  “Good question, Dean,” Rick said. “Any ideas?”

  “Laundry carts,” Mike said. “Wheel the carts with us, fill one up, bring it back here, shove it straight onto the truck.”

  “That can work,” Alex told the group, “but we’ll have to be careful using those carts. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one that didn’t have a squeaky or rattling wheel.”

  “Maintenance is most likely in the basement. One group can look in there for stuff that may be useful as well as oil for the wheels. The other group can check the administrative offices, and reception areas where we aren’t likely to find what we’ve come here for, until we get the carts oiled and ready.”

  “Sounds good to me, Mike. You, Jimmy and Cal want to handle that? Alex and Dean can come with me to the basement. I don’t have to remind you guys to be careful. We may not have much to worry about just yet, but once we get to the ER and the upper floors where surgery and the wards are I’m guessing it’ll be a whole different story.”

  Each man took a moment to look over the fire escape map, committing it to memory before stacking up at the door. Standing there, waiting, people dug under the leather guards on necks, forearms and shins. They scratched at imaginary itches; mentally preparing themselves for a difficult day.

  Once the group was ready Dean nodded, flicked the locked, pressed the lever handle down and flung the door open, everyone piling out into the hallway quickly. Dean stepped out and closed the door softly behind him, listening for the latch to click into place.

  The men bunched together in front of the doors, looking left and right down the hallway. To the right they would find the laundry, to the left, fifteen feet from the doors the hall made a right turn, leading around to the basement stairs and a connecting hallway leading to offices and the ER.

  “We’ll go right,” Mike said, “check this way and come back around to the offices from the connecting hall.”

  Rick nodded, taking his men to the left, quickly disappearing around the corner. Jimmy lead to the right, following the hall to an intersection, going left lead to the laundry and further on, the offices; straight would take them out to the cafeteria.

  He stepped around the corner, Mike and Calvin following on his heels. They were unable to retreat around the corner before the first of a knot of zombies blocking the corridor saw them.

  Chapter 19

  Rick moved slowly, placing his feet with care so his boots would not squeak on the tiled floor. He reached the maintenance stairwell within minutes, Dean and Alex staying close, Alex occasionally glancing over his shoulder to be sure nothing came up behind them.

  The door stood ajar, opening onto a dark stairway leading down to the basement level, it could have been a portal directly to Hell for the nervous fear the sight caused in the men.

  “Wish we could use that, instead,” Dean said quietly, nodding at the nearby service elevator. Alex and Rick only nodded in agreement before moving into the blackness leading down, narrow beams from their flashlights picking out the steps as they descended.

  Coming off the stair they found themselves in a short hallway leading left and right. A small placard on the wall pointed them in the direction of maintenance.

  Standing in front of the door to maintenance, Rick with his hand on the doorknob, Dean and Alex with weapons up and ready, each took a deep breath before Rick opened the door.

  They moved into the room quickly, Dean went left, Alex right, and Rick went in center, sweeping the room with weapons and flashlights.

  Several workstations were spread about, as well as various machines, older hospital beds, other items that needed repairing. The far right wall featured a fifteen by twenty foot chain link cage, inside which was a large workstation as well as all the tools and supplies a maintenance crew would need. The caged work area was used to prevent theft or accidents by unqualified personnel.

  Passing their flashlights over the cage caused the three zombies trapped inside to moan loudly and rattle the chain link as they walked into it repeatedly, trying to reach the feast outside the wire.

  “Son of a bitch!” Dean exclaimed. “Let me guess, what we need is going to be in there.”

  Rick laughed at Dean’s remark. “Yep, I’d say so. Let’s take them out quickly, just in case there are others close by. Don’t want that moaning and rattling to draw in more of them.”

  Dean nodded, stepping forward as he drew his large fixed blade from the scabbard on his left hip. He was close to the cage when he put his foot down on a slick spot on the tile floor and slipped, his right foot going out from underneath him. He reached out, catching himself on the chain link, his gloved fingers hooked through the mesh.

  In the second it took for him to realize where his hand was he felt something clamp down on his middle finger. His glove stayed behind as he jerked his hand back, falling backward to land on his ass in front of Alex. He held up his middle digit, as if giving the caged gut-suckers the finger, examining it closely with his flashlight. He could see faint dents in his finger from the zombie’s teeth, but the skin was not broken.

  He looked up to see his glove being pulled through the links, the pasty faced creature tossing its head like a dog with a chew toy, the glove slapping its face.

  “Well, fuck me.”

  “You ok, man? Did it…”

  “It didn’t break skin, Alex, thank God.” Over the blood pounding in his ears Dean could hear his friends let out a collective sigh of relief. “Yeah, I know, right.”

  Alex gave him a hand up from the floor, while Rick stepped up to the cage, quickly dispatching all three zombies through the fencing.

  Rick and Alex both laughed when Dean told them, “I’m not sure which is bruised more, my ass or my ego.”

  “Don’t imagine anyone has a key,” Rick said.

  “Yeah, right here,” Alex replied, pulling heavy wire snips from his day-kit.

  “Well, that’ll work. Let’s get it open, find that oil and get the hell out of this basement, too fucking dark down here for me.”

  Alex took several minutes to snip an opening large enough for the men to easily fit through. They spent several minutes more searching the space before they found a few small plastic bottles of all purpose oil.

  With loot in hand they made their way back upstairs.

  Chapter 20

  Calvin pushed through the swinging door to the kitchen area of the cafeteria, M4 up and ready. He stopped just inside, scanning the room ahead of him, one foot bracing the door, keeping it open so it wouldn’t slam back on Jimmy or Mike as they came through.

  Behind him, he could hear the heavy pop of the suppressed weapons as Jimmy and Mike tried to take down a few of the pack advancing on them.

  Jimmy came through the door first, rifle up, covering Mike as he backed through. Calvin let the door swing closed, the flapping noise as the door settled seeming unnecessarily loud in his ears.

  “Here, help me with this,” Jimmy called from behind a large stainless steel table. Calvin ran around the table while Mike covered the door, preferring to use the quieter weapon as long as possible. Calvin leaned into the table, muscles twitching as both men shoved the heavy table toward the swinging doors. The steel feet grated along the smooth tile, cracking several, digging large divots in the floor.

  Mike popped off two rounds back to back, taking the head off a zombie through the small window. “Now damn it or they’re going to come through!”

  The table slammed into the doors seconds before the pack of zombies did, the heavy steel seeming t
o bounce, scooting back several inches. “This isn’t going to be enough!” We need more weight, now!” Calvin’s voice was tight, fear constricting his vocal cords.

  “No shit, Sherlock,” Jimmy spat. He looked around the huge kitchen, eyeing the appliances. “Mike, you think you and I can drop one of the big ass refrigerators in front of this table?”

  Mike eyed the massive double-door fridge. “If we can’t we get our asses eaten in a kitchen by a pack of fucking zombies, so yes, I say we can.”

  “Keep laying into it until we tell you move, Cal.” Calvin grunted in reply, fat drops of sweat flinging from his hair as he nodded.

  Together beside the refrigerator, the two men rested their hands on the cool brushed steel. “Tip it on its side and we should be able to slide it over there pretty easy,” Jimmy said.

  “Gonna make one helluva noise when we drop it, man.” Mike pointed to the other pair of swinging doors on the other side of the long room, “And we have to do the same over there, in a hurry.”

  “Damn it, ok well, the threat is over there right now. One damn thing at a time. Let’s do this.”

  They began to push, grunting with the effort. The heavy appliance began to shift, tipping slightly, but the weight was too much, they were unable to keep the momentum.

  “You push high, I’ll lift low,” Mike said, squatting to grip the bottom edge of the fridge.

  “Hurry up guys, they’re piling on out there, I can’t hold this much longer.” Sweat ran freely down Calvin’s face, dropping onto the clean stainless tabletop. The legs ground into the floor as the table slid another inch.

  “Mike, when we drop this on its side and push it over there we need to flip it on its back, otherwise it’ll just slide.”

  “Fine, let’s do it then.”

  “Ready,” Jimmy said, pushing high on the side, “Go.”