by catt dahman
Kim got to his feet and pulled Sally and Beth to theirs. Len pointed at George and Beth. “Get your weapon, and tell any of the rest with us to get theirs. Hurry.” He motioned for Sally, Bryan, Tink, Kim, and Mark, to come with him.
“When it rains…” Roy stepped aside, to give Len authority. He had gained a follower who stood close to him now.
“What is it?”
“Listen. Voices.”
Len stepped closer to the closed metal doors. “Hello?”
“We need in. Please. We need help. ”
“How many do you have?”
“Five.” Pause. “Seven. Please.”
Len, Kim, and Bryan traded glances. Tink muttered they couldn’t count.
“Were you exposed?”
They heard a discussion. “Some of us. We don’t have Red. We’re immune. None of us were bitten. We need food and water, and we have injuries.”
“Are you bitten?”
“None of us are bitten…it was the bomb that got us.”
“We could vote,” Tink offered.
“Those people will go for rationing food ‘cause it is necessary. They will live around guns and our shooting the infected ‘cause it’s necessary. They won’t like many of the things we will have to do, but those actions will be necessary. I don’t think many in here will vote to leave them out there when we have food, water, and a doctor,” Len grumbled.
“I might,” Bryan stated.
“If they are bitten, they can’t come in,” Kim said.
“We helped Gina.”
“Len, we knew her. We don’t know them.”
Len nodded. He wanted everyone to say what was on his mind. Johnny, George, and Beth had come back with Hagan and a few more. “It isn’t a democracy anymore,” George said, “we need a leader.”
“Not a dictator either,” Len protested.
“Are you there?” the voice called.
“We’re here. Give us a second.” Len looked at Sally, “Tell us how to do this.”
Len called back to the seven that they would have to follow every instruction given to them. They agreed.
Sally said that they had to remove every stitch of clothing and all jewelry, even wedding rings. “I can’t think,” Sally complained.
“You’re all we have.”
She grimaced. “All wallets…absolutely nothing personal can come inside.”
The voice outside argued that they didn’t want to leave jewelry and wallets behind; Len responded that they couldn’t come in until they discarded all of those items; all they had was poisoned, now.
“We have some hurt bad.”
“Then stop your bitchin’, and drop your pants so our doctor can help you,” Johnny yelled back.
“If you’re bitten, we won’t let you in,” Len added.
The people agreed.
Sally told Len the next part, and he relayed the message: “I am tossing scissors out a crack in the door. The doc said to cut your hair down to the scalp. If anyone rushes the door, he will be shot, and the doors will stay sealed. “
The people outside howled in frustration and anger.
Sally directed people to bring in wheelchairs, along with lead aprons that would be used to protect themselves when the people came in.
Reddy came in first, his hair and eyebrows already burned off, and blisters covered his face, hands, and arms. Sally ordered a hot shower for him before she could apply soothing creams. He told her who the rest were, thanking them for allowing them inside. “They need help fast.”
The next man almost looked like a victim of Red, but he had been sliced up by flying glass; he was a black teen, who needed a shower and a few stitches. George said he would begin helping the teen with Mark’s help. The teen kept smiling and thanking them, saying a shower sounded like Heaven. His name was Calvin.
The next one was like a pincushion, filled with slivers of glass. Sally shook her head, not expecting the woman to survive. “Shower her gently, and pick the glass out. If the glass is too big or is next to an artery or if she begins bleeding badly, we may not be able to do anything. Apply pressure if it happens, and call me. I’ll stitch her in a bit.”
The woman was missing fingers. Sally could hardly touch her because of the glass shards that were sticking out of her skin; she almost glittered with crimson. Sally handed her off to Johnny and Beth. “Give her some pain shots in those hands, then re-clean them, and apply antibiotic cream and the lidocaine gel in a heavy paste, covering with thick bandages of gauze where her fingers are missing. Use a flashlight to see all the tiny shards.”
A Latino girl named Maria was handed to Misty and Julia, her body red from what looked like deep sunburn, blisters showing on parts of her. Her feet were mashed and torn, and she was cut deeply all over, blood covering her.
“Cool shower, ‘lots of soap, and mind her poor feet.” Sally winced in pity. “Cream and lotion for her body and for her feet…clean well but carefully, use antibiotic cream and lidocaine, and maybe some stitches. Bandage heavily. You’ve seen me stitch…” she sighed, “about time you did it. If you can’t; it’ll be a while before I can. Try the super glue, it will hurt like a bastard, but it works. Make sure the wounds are very, very clean and the bandages nice and loose but thick.”
Someone heaved as the next one was brought in. This may have been one Reddy didn’t count. No one moved. Sally sighed; she needed to pull ‘Super Bitch’ out now, “I need help. She needs help…. get your thumb outta your ass, and help this woman.” Someone had said her name was Rachel.
Hagan and Kim reached for the gurney, both going pale.
The blistered skin was the best she had; half her body was charred; blackened skin slid off of muscle. Her legs were like burned twigs, fingers gone. She crackled as she was laid onto the gurney.
“They had her in a wheel barrel,” Kim whispered. She moaned like a hurt puppy, sending chills up his spine.
“She can hear you,” Sally shot him a dirty look. “Isn’t that right, Rachel? And we’re gonna get you all fixed up.” She set her jaw. “Then we’ll fix your hair.” Sally shook her head. “I’ll need an IV…not sure where to begin. Get her settled, see if she can take in some water, put some lidocaine cream on the blisters, clean the skin, don’t rub too much, and don’t touch anything burned badly… after …leave the rest alone. I’ll take her first and give her some pain relief.”
Sally scraped and removed the charred skin, revealing the oozing, burned skin beneath; the pain was horrific. There was no way this one could possibly survive. Even in the old world in the best circumstances and with a hyperbaric chamber and experts with skin grafts, it would be almost impossible to save her life. She felt over-whelming despair.
“Rachel, I’m Kim, and this is Hagan. We’re gonna be helping you, so you can relax. We aren’t doctors, but we’re gonna try very hard to help you until Sally can help.”
Johnnie motioned them to follow her. “You, boys, go pick glass out of that gal. Hi, Rachel, I’m Johnnie, and I sure wish I had a pretty name like yours. I used to have a daughter named Candi, sweet as candy, and she was a fighter…would whoop ass just like me if she needed to…’til she fell in with a bad man.”
Hagan had gone to help Beth, but Kim listened as he did what Sally had said.
“Do you have a man, Rachel? Is he a good man? Kim here is a good man and smart as he can be. He’s a good lookin’ man, too…a farm-boy-looking boy, but handsome like a movie star,” Johnny crooned, and listening, Rachel stopped whimpering. “My girl, Candi run off when she was just fourteen with a no-account loser. I looked…Oh, Lord, how I searched…but he was twenty, and they were gone. She would’ve run again if I had found her…she was stubborn when she set her mind on something…so since I ain’t got my baby girl, would you let me take care of you? Yes?”
As she came in to begin her work, Sally squeezed Johnny’s shoulder in thanks, asking Johnny to please stay and help.
Kim, his nose full of cooked flesh that smelled like
roasted pork, fled gratefully.
Roy and Paul tended to John, a man, who had been flash-burned. The fire had not done the damage; it was the intense light that had given him what looked like a severe sunburn and had blinded him, his retinas burned up. He needed a shower, creams, and bandages over scrapes and cuts, cool pads and gauze over his ruined eyes. They thought that somehow, his brain was cooked since he could hardly respond.
Len was with a man who mumbled to himself in between telling them he was Bart, a lawyer. His hands were lacerated and crushed in many places; one was broken; he had a big knot and cut on his head. Len got him clean and then bandaged the wounds, wrapping the hand loosely; it might have to be amputated.
It was a long time before most were able to gather again in the gloomy, windowless cafeteria. Sally took a quick break to report that while the seven still lived, two wouldn’t make it. The other five had been given water and food, had been bandaged, stitched, cleaned, and had been made as comfortable as possible.
Theresa still bled from her many deep cuts, but the glass had been removed. Sally planned to stitch more to try to stop the blood, but the situation felt hopeless.
Rachel lay quietly, listening to Johnny talk, telling stories, describing the people who were around, and encouraging her to hang on to life, despite Rachel’s agony.
“I haven’t the heart to tell Johnny that Rachel most likely doesn’t want to live and won’t live. I keep hoping she goes soon; she’s in misery,” Sally said, laying her own head on her folded arms on the table to rest.
“I told you about Gina,” George reminded her with an arched eyebrow. Benny looked sad, “Would we deny her because she can’t get up and get whatever she needs?”
“I can’t…” Sally said.
“My terms.”
“‘George’s terms.’” Benny echoed.
Sally stood up to go back to her patients. “I won’t get in your way, but it’s her choice. Not ours. And wait until Johnny leaves her side; then speak to her. But you have to tell Johnny.”
George nodded.
17
Hospital Habits
Work details provided food, moved rubble, helped arrange rooms, while Chauncey and Big Bill continued removing bodies and cleaning up the areas afterwards. They had distasteful jobs, but those were the jobs they had chosen so they could work together, pretending to toil mindlessly, but knowing what they did was vital in giving the dead respect and honor. Len made sure the guard duty continued, and with Billy’s help and a long hallway, Len worked to train the others to shoot more accurately.
Kim watched as Bryan tried to flirt with Beth. He tried to dislike the man, but Bryan was likable, dependable, and determined. Bryan always seemed to be busy with one chore or another. He worked long into the night.
Mark approached Kim, “Have you seen that guy, Joe? He’s the one always cracking jokes, with longish brown hair, about twenty, glasses; Len calls him ‘Front-Row-Joe.’”
“I haven’t seen him since last night maybe…if even then.”
“That’s what everyone says, and his cot is empty, wasn’t slept in.”
“Hmm.”
“We’ve looked all over. Even in the morgue. I did find this.” Mark set an empty bottle of codeine on the table. “It was on his cot.”
Kim studied it.
He and Mark found that the doors to the pharmacy had been opened and closed back. This wasn’t good.
With Len and Bryan with them, Kim and Mark got ready to go in, following instructions from Sally. Behind them, guns ready, stood Tink, Beth, Julia, Hagan, Thurman, Benny, George, and Billy. Holding a gun, ready to fire, was becoming a familiar feeling.
Joe had refused to let the destruction of the world get to him. Through it all, he had joked, smiled, and tried to make everyone he met feel a measure of happiness, if only for a few seconds.
From the beginning, he had been the unofficial cafeteria greeter, memorizing names, lending a hand when he could, and trying to keep spirits up. Never thinking himself attractive or particularly interesting, Joe had learned the joy in making others happy. He watched comedians, mimicked them, and now brought the humor into this unhappy place.
But, like many who seemed joyful, Joe was exquisitely lonely.
Joe’s balm of choice was pills…codeine, Xanax, anything that relaxed him, and the monkey on his back was a gorilla. Now, in a hospital, he was without pills, having taken the last one the day before. The weight was too much; he shook, his stomach churned, and he felt panicked. He had tried to sleep, but there was so much to do, and he needed to relax so he could be social; he was actually making friends for once.
Almost jumping out of his skin and crawling with anxiety, Joe took a flashlight and sneaked to the metal doors. In and out of the pharmacy and who would know? He could bring back tons of pills, share them with those injured, and be a hero.
Len ran order now, but Joe had heard Roy and several more saying Len wasn’t a good leader. He might have to choose sides soon, and it made him more nervous. He needed something to dull the edges. He needed to be able to think about all of this.
Inside, Joe closed the doors, kicking at something burned that was in the way, but almost retching as he saw it had once been a human who had crawled up to the doors from somewhere. Panic made his blood run cold. He was sick. If he didn’t get a pill fast, he was going to start ripping his own hair out. He could ask Sally. But no, he couldn’t. He was here now.
The pharmacy was a wreck, all the glass shattered and everything blistered, melted, and in ruins. Maybe the pills were melted. Clenching his jaw, Joe inched out, avoiding twisted metal. Dirty brown rain fell outside, bringing a chill with it.
Other things littered the floor, blackened things crackled.
Joe ducked into the area where all the drugs were kept in a kind of large, metal containers, much like in a candy store. He would be a hero for taking all of this back for Sally. First, he would rest and relax a bit. With a bottle of water from a pocket, he tried codeine with Xanax chasers. Valium followed. Joy. Okay. Now, they would help, and then he would load up and take the medicines back.
Things tittered, sounding closer.
Stealthy things whispered coyly.
Joe didn’t move. He hardly breathed. Those things were there now, stalking him, waiting for him to make a sound so they could find him and pounce.
In fear, he swallowed more of the ‘jewels.’
He began to feel better. If a few had helped this much…with a shrug, he added more of each. Sitting in a chair, he shivered with happiness. The noises were closer, but he didn’t care. Someone moaned.
Another three pills went down like candy, then several more, this time Oxycontin. He wanted to rest a bit with his eyes closed as things moaned. Closer. Joe swallowed and refused to make a sound as he slipped away.
But by now, the others were looking for Joe.
Len and Kim took the lead, almost tripping over the burned and blackened, stinking thing lying close to the doors. “Damn,” Kim muttered. They shivered. It was down right cold.
Other bodies were blistered and burned badly, but the blackened thing had crawled in from outside, from farther away; they wondered how it had made it this far. They took in the devastation. They used gloves to move the bodies away from the doors and then tossed the used gloves for fresh ones from their pockets.
“Here he is,” Mark pointed.
Joe was dead, having choked on his own vomit.
“Suicide?” asked Kim.
“Or over zealous in his habit.” Bryan shrugged. He and Mark moved Joe, covering him with sheets. They grabbed bags from their pockets, filling them with what Sally had said to get since most items had been protected from the blast.
When they heard the moaning, Len and Bryan set their bags down to watch. “Moaners,” said Bryan.
Len grinned, “I like that…Moaners.” Walking out to where the windows had once been, he raised his rifle; he took two shots; Bryan took one. The three who were moani
ng stopped.
In and out.
Grabbing the bags, Len and Bryan went back inside, grabbing clothing first, ducking in to grab towels. Len told them about the moaners and explained again that no one could ever go out the metal doors. “If you want to go out, then stay out,” he told them, “but don’t go playing self-medicator and putting all of us at risk for your selfishness.”
With the rest working so hard, suicide and foolish behavior that led to death, was a slap in the face to the others; everyone should be grateful that he had survived.
The others took their guns and the medications as all four went for hot showers.
They had only been out for minutes and hoped for the best.
Sharing the information, they told the others what they had seen outside, down-playing the total annihilation of the world they had known. Roy asked a few questions, and the others noticed he had more standing and sitting close to him now.
One of the women, a schoolteacher, criticized Len for telling them what it was like outside. “Do you think we like hearing what it’s like out there?”
“Do you think I like having to go out there and see it? Do you want to go looking for the next person who goes missing?”
“You’re being depressing.”
“I’m being honest. Do you want lies?”
“No, I want hope, or we’ll all end up like Joe.”
“You got truth.”
A few left Roy’s side, undecided again. Len, Kim, Mark, and Bryan were respected for going out to find Joe and for bringing back medication. They had put down zeds; their bravery did not go unnoticed.
18
Resources
“What are you doing?” Bryan watched Beth as she counted and recorded in another section for ammo.
“You said it needed to be inventoried.” She had columns and lists of every weapon, all ammunition, and every other item in the room.
Billy had helped her earlier when he and Len had taken everyone interested into one of the halls where they patiently had taught gun safety and marksmanship. With the clothing which had been brought back from the store and scrub uniforms from the hospital, they had something to sleep in. Some of the other women and men had an inventory going for the supplies of food, linens, and medical supplies.
