The Dead Don't Bleed: Part 2, The Aftermath

by S. Ganley

  Chapter 19

  Doug wasted no time getting prepared to open Kyle up. Kimberly was drafted into service as his aid for the surgery, while Cameron was positioned in front of the monitors keeping track of Kyle's vital signs. Doug showed Cameron what he needed to look for and wrote down the high and low levels that Kyle's vitals needed to stay between. If any of those signs dipped outside of the ranges Doug gave him, Cameron was to call out the exact monitor and the numbers it indicated.

  Miranda was stationed outside the door of the surgical room just behind a nurse’s station. From that location she had a good view of the hallways leading off in three different directions. She knew that the hall behind her with the elevator was already clear of any danger. The other two branches of the hallway on that floor were a different story. Both corridors were blocked by security doors and those doors were the only thing between them and a horde of zombies on the other side. Miranda had stressed to everyone how important it was to keep as quiet as possible. For the time being the thick rubber stopper in between the doors and along the floor underneath them would help to keep the smells of humans from reaching the zombies on the other side. Miranda had found some thick tape and petroleum jelly that she used to cover the bullet holes in the hope that would also cut down on their exposure. There was nothing much left for her to do but sit patiently and wait. Emily had been wheeled into the prep room next to the operating room and from time to time Miranda would stick her head in there and check on her. The last time she had looked in on her she had been out cold. Doug had given her some pain medication and a mild sedative. Miranda had to admit that she felt sorry for the woman. As big of a useless bitch as she was, she was still a human being. Miranda would never wish the fate that awaited her on even her most hated enemy, if she had one. The pain of the wound itself was bad, she had helped Doug dress it a little better before he had moved into surgery with Kyle. The bite was deep, passing through several layers of fat into the breast and surrounding chest tissue. The pain could be controlled with medications, what couldn't be controlled was the deadly infection that bite had released into Emily's blood stream. Doug thought that the sedatives would help slow the spread of the infection. By keeping her calm her blood pressure would stay low and not provide the virus with a speedy path through her system. But all of them knew that all that was really doing was postponing the inevitable. Miranda had seen the look in Garrett's eyes right after Emily had been attacked. She had seen his fingers twitching near the trigger of his rifle and knew what was going through his mind at that point. Putting a bullet in Emily's head right there and then would have been the most merciful way of ending her suffering. But it would have also created a rift within the group. There was no telling how Doug would have reacted to seeing his wife's head blown off right in front of him. He may have understood the necessity of that action but could have easily turned the pain and hurt he was feeling into anger and rage towards Garrett and the rest of them. It came down to the simple fact that it was more important they all continued to work together than the need to quickly end Emily's suffering. When the time came to finally put her down for good, Doug would have had enough time to come to terms with and accept that fate. Doug's full attention was needed to help Kyle pull through or they would be stacking his dead body right along with Emily's in the next few hours.

  The surgery had been going on for just under two hours when Doug finally stepped out of the room and began pulling off his blood soaked hospital gown and mask. Miranda always thought it disconcerting how doctors were able to keep their faces clenched in a mask of neutrality when it came time to deliver news on the status of a patient. She always thought that she would never want to face a doctor from across a poker table, there was just no way of reading them accurately. She waited patiently while Doug discarded his blood stained garments and pulled off his surgical gloves for him to deliver the news. She worked hard to choke back the fear that after battling their way to get Kyle to the hospital with Doug's own wife suffering a traumatic injury along the way that they would end up losing him on the operating table.

  "Everything went just fine." Doug finally said as a smile crept across his face. It seemed to Miranda that the little bastard may have actually been milking the moment just to hit her with the big news. In any other situation she would have probably slapped him across his face for making her squirm like that. But with his wife laying on a gurney in the next room clinging to the last hours of her life, she decided to allow him that single moment of pride and gloating for a job well done.

  "I did have to remove the kidney unfortunately. It was damaged beyond my ability to repair. A surgical doctor probably could have saved it, but I just didn't want to take the risk that I would miss something and he would continue to hemorrhage internally."

  Miranda couldn't help herself from running up to the little man and wrapping him in a firm hug that noticeably took him by surprise. They had all sacrificed and lost so much that this one solitary victory was something she found that she really needed to restore her sense of hope.

  Breaking free from the embrace, Miranda stepped around Doug and peeked into the room behind him. Kyle was still on the operating table unconscious and covered in a fresh blanket. Kimberly was standing at the sink at the far end of the room washing her hands while Cameron was still sitting in his assigned seat continuing to monitor Kyle's vital signs. Seeing Miranda's questioning look Doug answered the question for her, "He is still under the effects of anesthesia, it’s important we monitor his vitals until he wakes on his own. From there he will need to continue getting as much rest as possible and avoiding any strenuous activities for several days."

  The unfortunate reality of their situation was that there was no way they could simply stay put and let Kyle rest for several days. The other wings of the hospital were infested with undead and it wasn't going to take them long to realize that a tempting meal was waiting on the other side of the hallway doors. They had not discussed their next move after getting Kyle through the surgery. But there was no way they could remain where they were for much longer. She really wished Garrett were there to come up with options for them.

  "As soon as he wakes up from the anesthesia we need to be ready to move him. This wing is still not secure and there is no way we can defend it if they get past those doors." Miranda informed Doug as she gestured towards the doors only a short distance down the hall from them.

  A thoughtful look came over Doug's face and he searched for the words he wanted to say next. "Miranda. There is one more procedure I need to perform in this operating room. Doug will probably not come around for at least another hour and what I need to do may take a little longer than that."

  Miranda was about to ask for an explanation but when she saw the desperate look in his eyes and taking into consideration how he had just saved Kyle's life she figured the man was allowed a certain degree of latitude.

  #

  Garrett and Shellie reached the back of the office building where the pilot had come down only to find the gate to the parking lot securely locked. The parachute draped over the fence still attached to a discarded harness that had been pulled up against the inside of the fence told them they were definitely in the right location. Since the pilots harness was still inside the fence and with the gate shut and locked, Garrett was pretty sure that the pilot must have sought refuge inside the building and not attempted to venture further into the city. They had only spotted a few small pockets of zombies along the way to the building. This section of town seemed to be less infested than some of the others they had seen before. Garrett thought it was due to the commercial nature of that area, most businesses would not have been open when the outbreak hit the height of its intensity. The zombies they were seeing had probably been refugees attempting to flee population centers and became stuck behind the impassible wall of traffic clogging all the major routes leading out of town. The pilot must have set down inside the fence and realized they had found a safe enough place to wait for rescu
e. The fence was topped with three inter-spaced rows of rusted barbed wire. Climbing the fence would probably be easy enough for both of them, but if either of them became caught up in the wire or even cut by the rusty barbs, it could turn a simple task into a much larger problem. Circling around the building and finding a way inside from the front would be just as productive in searching for the pilot and might also give them a better perspective on any surprises that could be waiting for them inside.

  Working their way around the parking lot they moved up along to the side of the building and silently slid around towards the front. When Garrett reached the corner at the front of the building he realized their luck had run its course. The street in front of the building was full of zombies, Garrett was sure that their numbers reached close to a thousand or more, stretching the length of the block in front of them down to the next major intersection and out of his line of sight. It was also easy to understand why there were so many in that one location. A major highway passed directly through town at that point with the on and off ramps connecting just beyond the next intersection. From their position at the side of the building they could see lanes heading in both directions clogged with hundreds of vehicles all heading away from Washington, DC only a little more than thirty minutes further down the road. The people who had been caught up in that traffic must have wondered down the off ramp and ended up concentrated up and down the street in front of the office building. The pilot would not have been able to see the street in front of the building during his approach from the back. The building itself as well as rows of trees and other tall buildings formed a partial dome over the street that would have kept street view hidden from above. It was likely the pilot had absolutely no idea they had landed right next to one of the largest concentrations of zombies that Garrett and Shellie had ever seen.

  From the corner of the building they were shielded from the street enough for Garrett to get a good look at the front of the office building. A decorative concrete walkway led from the street directly in front of the building to a point where it connected with a similar walkway leading to a smaller parking lot on the opposite side. At the point where the sidewalks connected there was an open patio area that had been constructed to resemble a small park. Benches and concrete planters with flowers and bushes were spread about to provide several segregate areas where employees and visitors could sit outside and conduct business or enjoy a lunch break in nice weather. The front entrance to the building was set back into a cutout that framed two sets of double doors set apart with a small pond filled with water lilies and ceramic decorations. The front of the building surrounding the doors was constructed of glass that stretched from knee height up to ceiling level of the second floor. One entire twenty foot section of the glass wall was completely shattered from the outside. Garrett could see at least three figures moving inside the lobby of the building just beyond an oval shaped information and reception station.

  Garrett knew that if the pilot was still alive it was a good bet he had found a safe place not far from the loading dock and hunkered down to await rescue. It was unlikely he would have attempted to wonder far into the building on his own and was probably unaware that zombies were already inside and massed in large number nearby. The zombies inside the building appeared to be concentrated on the side of the lobby furthest from where they were hiding. To get inside and make their way to the loading dock area they should be able to move down the hallway on the far side of them.

  Adjusting his rifle across the middle of this back, Garrett drew the pistol he recovered from the dead father in the jeep back in the park. The 9mm was not silenced but inside the building it should be muffled enough not to be hear outside, the AK did not offer the same subtleties when it was fired. In whispered conversation he explained to Shellie how he wanted her to move and where they would be going as soon as they entered the building. Shellie tried her best to put on the bravest face possible but Garrett could see the fear in her eyes. Sometimes Garrett forgot that he was dealing with a group of untrained civilians whose only experience with combat was what they saw in the movies. It was important that he remember that the people now watching his back were nothing more than terrified civilians stepping so far out of their comfort zone that they were was only a paper thin line separating their bravery from a complete breakdown. Even Miranda would be approaching the point where she would not be able to continue facing these situations at the drop of a hat like she had. He had been taking their overall will to survive for granted lately. It wasn't enough that they just continue to live from one fight to the next, there had to be some hope for salvation that made it all worthwhile.

  Garrett grasped her gently by the hand and looked into her eyes, "If it makes you feel any better, I'm scared too."

  She wiped her hand across her eyes and turned away from him so he wouldn't see the tears starting to flow.

  "I just don't know how much more of this I can take." She was shaking at that point and Garrett was starting to fear that she was on the verge of a breakdown that would paralyze her against moving forward.

  "Shellie, you can’t imagine how much bravery it has taken you just to get to this point. I have seen grown men step into battle who curled up on the ground and cried for their mothers when the first shot rang out. You have shown me over and over that you have what it takes to keep going just a little further. That pilot is as good as dead if we don't get in there and get him out." He wasn't sure he was getting through to her in the way he had intended so he decided to try a different approach. "That pilot could be our ticket out of here. Just hold it together for a little longer and there is a good chance this is the last time you will have to stick your neck out like this."

  He saw that familiar spark of hope returning to her eyes. He hated filling her with false hope, but he rationalized it with himself that even though it might be only a slim chance it was at least a chance. The hope for salvation they all needed may just very well rest with their success in rescuing this one man.

  Shellie closed her eyes and took several deep breaths trying to calm herself down and mentally prepare herself to get through the next few minutes without coming apart at the seams. Garrett stepped back from her and allowed her a few seconds to pick herself back up.

  Turning back to face Garrett with a renewed look of determination in her eyes she said, "Alright, let’s get this over with."

  Chapter 20

  Huntress had no idea how long she had been asleep and had not intended to close her eyes for more than a minute or two. The mental and physical stress of her flight along with her ejection had left her completely drained. The aches and pains rippling through her muscles told her that she must have reached a point of sleep that allowed her body to relax long enough for stiffness to set in. Still half in a daze from her slumber it took her several seconds to realize what it was that had ripped from sleep in the first place. Her body tensed when there came a dull knocking on the outside of the door several feet behind her. The banging came again several seconds later, two knocks, a pause and then two more. It seemed to be some kind of nonsensical pattern that she was not able to place. At first she thought it was Morse code, but there was no related sequence in the sounds that made any sense. The pattern appeared to be deliberate and her hopes were suddenly raised that the rescue team may have already arrived and were searching for her. They could be on the other side of the door cautiously knocking to try and get her attention.

  Stuffing the emergency beacon and radio back into the pockets of her flight suit, she picked up her pistol and cautiously walked over to the door. With her back to the wall she called out tentatively, "This is Lieutenant Olivia Frostburg from the USS Abraham Lincoln. Please identify yourselves."

  She detected a distinct sound in response to her voice from the other side of the door, but it was garbled and muffled and she was unable to pick out the words. The knocking on the outside of the door increased in intensity and volume. When a similar knocking began further down the wall
on the door at the other end of the break room she started to grow alarmed. A search party would surely not be making this much racket in a hostile environment. When the door next to her actually started to crack down the middle from the relentless pounding she realized she was in trouble. Stepping back towards the middle of the room, Huntress raised her pistol and took aim at the door. Several more forceful bangs on the outside and a two foot section of wood brook free and fell to the floor in front of the door. At the same time the top hinge gave way and the door sagged into the room well on its way to breaking free of the frame completely. Through the hole in the door she could see figures moving in the darkness, hands were visible as they pounded against the outside of the door. Even in the murky light she was able to see the discolored and filthy clothing as well as the jaundice tainted skin color of hands and arms that told her exactly what she was dealing with. She had been through briefings on the symptoms and conditions that they were likely to notice with the undead population leaving her little doubt what was coming through that door after her.

  She couldn't tell how many were in the hallway, there seemed to be at least four outside the door with the hole in it and probably another two or three at the other door. With each strike against the door more cracks appeared and it was clear that it was only a matter of moments before they were inside the room with her. With shaking hands and sweat running down her back she lifted her pistol and locked her elbows taking up a shooters stance to prepare for the inevitable onslaught of decaying flesh about to rush towards her. During her escape and evasion training she had put in many hours of handgun training in a variety of different circumstances. Finishing top amongst even her male peers she had always thought she would be ready for anything. Standing there now with a loaded pistol in her hand and readying herself to use that training in an actual live situation she wasn't so sure. Any confidence she may had had in her ability to handle such a situation was swept aside at the first sight of a pair of dead eyes staring at her through the crack in the door. There was no fear in those eyes, no comprehension that the person on the other side of that door could be a threat in any way. All Huntress saw in those eyes was the sheer determination to finish breaking through that door and reach her. Sighting in on the eyes she pulled back the trigger and blasted a hole in wall three inches to the right of her target. The eyes didn't even blink and the body didn't waiver in response to the gunfire. She fired twice more, both rounds again striking wide of the zombie. Even though she was sure the bullets had punched through the wall and must have hit some part of at least one of the bodies on the other side, there was no indication that her shots had even the slightest impact on the zombies coming for her.