by Mark Kramer
Oksenberg’s reaction was to pull away. He looked to us as he shouted for help. Melvin and me rushed over, each of us grabbing an arm, and slammed the patient back down to the bed. We gave each other a look that said, What the hell was that? We turned to the doctor, and his face was covered in sweat as he held on to the hand he nearly lost a few seconds ago.
Our attention fell to the man acting erratic. We were holding him down. Had a little strength to him, but no more than an average man. With the two of us holding him down, he wasn’t going anywhere. But it was obvious he was trying to bite the doctor. His head would rise, and his jaw would snap at the air. Looked like a damn bear trap.
Doctor Haas stood beside his colleague now. His eyes gazing at the patient as he said, “What in the hell just happened?”
“He tried to bite my hand.” I can still see the look of shock on his face. Amazing. I wouldn’t be surprised if he wet his pants at that moment. Just a little.
Haas turned to us and said, “Call the guard. Tell him to take this gentleman to N-9 via the tunnel.”
Melvin jumped at the chance to get away from the situation. He said, “Can you hold him while I go?” I nodded. He waited for me to place my other hand down on the man’s arm before letting go. I was pressing down now, holding him, but I was growing tired. Melvin exited the room.
I looked down at the insane man right below me; he was snapping his jaws, trying his best to bite me as he screamed. I had to look away, those eyes were too eerie. My gaze went to the doctors who were staring, they looked scared. The nurse was way down at the end of the line, standing by her rolling cart that carried the vials of the polio vaccine. She was the only one who didn’t appear scared. But she did look impatient, like she was hoping Haas would get his butt over there fast, so they could wrap up the vaccinations.
The door opened, and the guard entered with Melvin behind him. The guard was pretty confident of the whole situation. He approached the bed, pulled his baton from his belt and whacked the screaming man a few times.
The hits didn’t faze him. “Let him go,” the guard said to me. I did. The guard positioned himself, ready to attack with his baton. As I stood back, I stole a quick glance of the other patients; I noticed a few of them were moaning, others were lifeless. My eyes went back to the first patient. He stood and moved toward the closest person to him, the guard.
“Come on, you crazy son of a bitch. I got some medication right here for ya.” The patient charged with his arms stretched out toward the guard. Guard was ready. His arm pulled back and shot forward, cracking the patient on the head. He dropped to the tiled floor, a puddle of blood beginning to form now where his head lay.
The guard stood over him, grabbed the handcuffs from his belt and slapped them over the patient’s wrists behind his back. The patient was still conscious. I couldn’t believe it. He took a few hard blows to the head, but here he was, trying to get on his feet again.
The guard didn’t look too thrilled. I could tell he was pissed. This patient trying to do his best to make this guard earn his worthless paycheck. I was sure along the way to N-9 the guard would take a little detour and teach this loony tune a thing or two about respecting his authority. He said as he stood, his chest heaving, “What’d they do to ya? You got some good stuff pumped in your veins, eh?”
“Just get him out of here, please,” said Doctor Oksenberg.
The guard gazed at the frightened doctor, then turned to Melvin, who was standing near the door, and said to him, “Why don’t ‘cha do something useful. Grab a mop and clean this mess up.” Melvin didn’t say a word and didn’t move. The guard’s attention went back to the patient.
The patient was trying to stand, but with his hands bound he was having a difficult time. He was struggling to push himself up with his head. That’s when the guard grabbed him by his dirty old plaid shirt and lifted him to his feet. A line of blood was hanging from the corner of his mouth, down to his chin, and onto his shirt. His yellow eyes were on the guard, and he was anxious to break free from the cuffs. I could already see that his wrists were beginning to bleed.
We all watched as the guard struggled with the patient to get him out of the room. He started by poking him in the chest with his baton, but the enraged man kept charging. So he began pummeling him with the baton, on his face, his arms, his ribs. We watched. All of us in shock to see a man take such a beating and still keep coming. By now, his face was covered in blood, but he could care less. The only progress the hits were making was every time one landed it pushed him back a few inches.
After another minute or so of the guard beating him, we watched as they took their show outside the room. Melvin slammed the door behind them. None of us noticed the next five patients who were waking up now, staring with stale yellow eyes.
Chapter Three
Doctor Haas was with the nurse now, about to inject the last patient.
I was with Oksenberg who was standing between the beds of the second and third patients. He was doing his observations, and I was cautious. I wasn’t trying to have one of these guys attack me like the last one.
Melvin was still working up the courage to get near the rest of them. He was about five feet behind me. If you ask me, that was the smart thing to do: stay away.
For a brief moment, I heard a man’s scream from somewhere in the building. Wasn’t sure if anyone else heard what I did, but I ignored it and continued staring at these patients. It wasn’t unusual for screams to fill the hallways throughout the day in this hospital. It was quite common.
I saw now that a few of the patients who were first injected were now moving on their beds. It was a weird sort of movement, like they weren’t sure how to use the arms and legs. They were all pale too and had the same yellowish tint to the whites of their eyes.
I stepped back, beside my friend. I whispered, “This medicine’s supposed to help people? They look like they got the Bubonic plague or something.”
Melvin said, “Yeah, I’m with you. I don’t like this. Don’t like how I’m feeling right about now. Think I’d rather work with the nuts in N-9. At least then I know what to expect.”
Then something happened. Blood began to pour out of the third patient’s mouth. Oksenberg called for his colleague. Haas and the nurse rushed over. Me and Melvin followed.
We watched him, wondering where the blood from his mouth had originated. Then we witnessed a very gory sight. The pale man began to chew. Taking big chews with his mouth open, we saw that he had bitten off his own tongue and was eating it.
Melvin couldn’t hold it; he threw up all over the bed.
Doctor Oksenberg said, “Jesus Christ. We’re going to isolate the subjects for the time being. Nurse, bring the vials.” He turned to Haas with widened eyes. “We should leave for now. Lock this door, and we can observe through the window.”
“I think you’re jumping to conclusions, Doctor Oksenberg,” said Haas. “We should remain here. This study is extremely important.”
The nurse came back, pushing the cart with the vials of the vaccine. I saw as one of the patients down the line tried to reach for her as she passed him (she didn’t even notice) and missed. The man rolled off the bed and slammed to the hard floor, creating a loud thump that was sent throughout the room. Everyone turned to see what the noise was, but the doctors looked away once they saw it was just a patient that had fallen. They turned to us, giving us that look which said, Do your job.
Melvin inched toward him as I stayed with the doctors. It was clear that he was scared, but I guess he felt he had a job to do and wanted to help him back onto his bed. He moved closer and closer, but kept his guard up.
Oksenberg was standing with his hand on his chin again, as if he were debating on whether or not to agree with Haas’ suggestion. That’s when the second patient lunged forward from his bed, grabbed Oksenberg’s left arm and bit into the side of his hand. The doctor screamed as the patient fell off the bed, chewing a piece of flesh in his mouth.
Me a
nd Haas were in shock. The nurse’s scream mixed with Oksenberg’s scream.
Melvin stopped in his tracks. His head shot around and looked at us.
The patient swallowed Oksenberg’s flesh. Blood covered the corners of his mouth. He was anxious for more; he wrapped his arms around the injured doctor’s leg and clenched his teeth into his ankle. I couldn’t believe the strength in his jaws. His bite almost tore through Oksenberg’s black pants and socks. Wasn’t strong enough to rip his clothes completely but it was strong enough to cut through his skin, as blood began running down to his shoe and splattering on the white floor.
I never heard such a terrifying scream as I heard come from the doctor’s mouth at that moment. I stomped my boot down onto the patient’s face. He ignored my blow and clawed at the doctor’s leg, trying to get to his flesh.
Doctor Oksenberg kept screaming as he fell back, landing on the bed of the man who was chewing his own tongue. But he was through feasting and wanted more. He sat up, wrapped his arms around the doctor’s thick frame and slammed his crooked, broken teeth into his neck.
We watched as he pulled his head back, taking a two inch chunk of Oksenberg with him. A geyser of blood shot out so far from the wound that it crashed onto my T-shirt.
My eyes went down to the blood stains on my shirt, then back to Oksenberg who looked as if he wanted to pass out, then I looked past him. My lips trembled as I saw four of these creatures headed our way.
Chapter Four
Melvin saw the four move toward me and the medical staff, and he was about to run our way when a woman patient grabbed his shirt. She moaned as she tried pulling him close. He reacted by trying to shove her away, but she continued, trying to force herself on him. Drool ran down the corners of her mouth and off her chin as the vaccine in her blood made her into a starved, sick maniac.
My friend was the sort of guy who would never harm a woman, but it was obvious he had no other choice. She charged again. Her moans turned to screams. With her arms outreached, she gripped his T-shirt and pulled. He slapped her hard across the face, and she stumbled back; her grip still tight on his T-shirt.
The man who Melvin was going to help off the floor was holding onto the frame of the bed, pulling himself up; his dead eyes on my friend the entire time.
Melvin was struggling to break the woman’s grip. His hands were squeezed tight around her wrists, and his face was turning red. She tried launching her head toward his arms; her teeth ready to take a bite. He let go of her wrist and pulled his one arm away, just missing losing some flesh to the crazy woman.
Now the man from the floor was on his feet and trying to grab Melvin. Melvin screamed and stepped back, letting go of the woman’s other wrist in the process. After a few steps, he stumbled over his own foot and fell onto the bed of another patient. This patient, a man, was one of about five who were shackled. With his one free hand he grabbed Melvin, who was lying across his chest at the moment, by his hair and tried pulling him up to his mouth.
Melvin saw the yellow eyes coming closer to him. He wasted no time and pushed himself off the bed, leaving a handful of hair in the shackled man’s hand. Standing now, he saw the woman rushing toward him. He darted out of her path, and she crashed into the window, shattering it. Broken glass fell on the woman and out the window.
Part of her was dangling outside. Her hands flailed, the broken glass slicing them open as she tried to pull herself back inside. Melvin couldn’t keep his eyes on her; the patient who he was planning on helping off the floor a few minutes ago was pushing him against the wall. He ripped Melvin’s T-shirt at the shoulder and was trying to sink his teeth into his flesh.
Melvin shouted for help as he stretched out his arms, trying to push the man away. The man clawed at his face, leaving three bloody lines from his temple down to his cheek.
My friend balled up his hand into a tight fist and slammed it into the man’s face. Blood trickled down his nose, but he kept attacking.
The woman placed her bloody hands around the edges of the window frame and pulled herself in. Pieces of glass from the shattered window were stuck in her face and arms. Her face and hair had blood running from all the gashes, and it was smearing into her faded flowered dress.
Melvin was still punching the man. He landed so many blows to his face that his nose was now broken and most of his front teeth were either chipped or knocked out all together.
Melvin turned to his left and saw the woman standing at the window frame, covered in blood. He grabbed the man by his shirt and spun him around toward the woman. The man slammed into her, causing her to launch back to the broken window. This time, she was sent sailing out, taking whatever broken glass remaining in the frame with her.
As Melvin continued fighting the man, a loud thump was heard from outside, twenty-five feet below. The man had his hands wrapped around the back of Melvin’s head now and was trying to pull him close. My friend put one hand around the man’s neck, and one hand was pulling his hair. He pushed the raging lunatic back toward the broken window, the lunatic screaming the entire time.
“Watch out, pal,” I said. Melvin turned back and saw me holding the wooden leg of a broken chair, about fifteen inches long. He darted to the side. Once I saw he was clear, I swung the leg and bashed the man in his eyes. I could hear the bones in his face crack.
He was leaning on the window sill and was fighting to gain his balance as he screamed. His right eye looked as if it was about to drop out of its socket.
I waited to see if he would make a move, or if he would stop. For a second, I thought he’d wised up. I could swear that he was contemplating on what to do next. He had this look like he wasn’t sure. His head turned from me to Melvin and then back to me.
Then he charged at me.
I didn’t give him the satisfaction.
I meant to swing the leg, but he was charging so fast that I didn’t have the time. I held it up and, as he ran toward me, I rammed the wooden leg in his left eye. It entered his head and drove in about five inches. And that was it for him.
He dropped dead. Blood was seeping from the hole, where he had an eye only a few seconds ago, and was forming a puddle on the floor under his head.
We waited a moment, waiting for him to get back up. He didn’t.
But the last few patients to be vaccinated were up. Up and running toward us.
Chapter Five
A few minutes ago, before I helped Melvin fend off the two creatures, I had just saw Oksenberg’s eyes roll after being bitten. Then I saw the four moving toward us (some faster than others), and my lips trembled as I stumbled back, not sure of what to do.
The one on the floor, who had bitten Oksenberg’s ankle, was now grabbing on his pants, pulling himself up, wanting to get more of the doctor’s flesh. The patient who had taken the bite out of his neck was now ripping at the doctor’s clothes, trying to expose his bare skin.
Throughout all of this, the nurse’s screams filled the air. Doctor Haas was still in shock, watching his colleague being butchered before our eyes. Neither of them saw the four coming from behind.
I was trying to spit the words out as I continued moving back. Finally, I said, “Doc…Nurse…Run…”
It was too late.
Two of the four reached the nurse and grabbed her. Poor lady didn’t have a chance. Maybe if me and Doctor Haas helped to pull her away she would’ve made it, but we were cowards. I was up against the wall watching the chaos that these doctors created, and Haas stared as the one who grabbed her put his mouth to hers and came away with her lips and part of her cheek. I could see her jawbone as she screamed, and then the blood running down her neck.
Doctor Haas fell as he tried to run. He picked himself up and ran to the closed door.
The second of the two to reach the nurse tugged at her arm and bit right under her elbow. The nurse’s screams mixed with the gargling of her own blood as the last two of the four reached her and began feasting.
I looked at Haas; his hand wrapp
ed around the door handle. His eyes looked like they wanted to pop out of his head.
“You can’t leave,” I said. “We gotta do something. We can’t leave them here.”
“What the hell? Do something?” shouted Doctor Haas. “Do what? They’ve gone insane. We need to call security.”
I turned to my left and saw a line of wooden chairs resting against the tiled walls.
I turned to the nurse. Her screams had died off. The four patients had eaten her nose and most of her face, and now they were working their way down her torso. Her white gown was red with blood, and the patients’ faces were covered in her blood. I could hear the sounds of flesh being chewed and grunts from them as they enjoyed it.
I turned to Oksenberg, and he was still screaming as the two patients continued to torture him. I looked back to my right at Haas who now had the door opened. “Grab one of these chairs. We’re going to save the doctor.”
Haas hesitated for a moment, but then he released his hand from the handle and followed me to the chairs. We each grabbed one and ran over to Oksenberg.
Haas cried as he swung the chair at the patient who was trying to bite through the doctor’s pants. After three or four good hits, the patient moved away from Oksenberg and moved toward Haas. Haas was holding the chair in front of him, using it as a shield against the maniac.
I rushed the man who had ripped off Oksenberg’s shirt and was taking bites out of his back. With the legs of the chair facing out, I ran toward him and speared the legs into his face. He flipped back, falling off his bed and landing on the floor.
Oksenberg dropped to the floor, his back drenched in blood. He grabbed the bed frame, struggling to get to his feet.
I came around the bed and saw the patient trying to get to his feet. I raised the chair up over my head and brought it crashing down to his back. He dropped, but was trying again to get up. I swung the chair back harder and released it. It exploded against his back, and pieces of the chair flew in ten different directions. He dropped again. He was still conscious, but the blows must have injured his spine, because he wasn’t moving his legs.
