by Mark Tufo
"Smarten up you dumb fuck," Dom stares at Gordon in disgust. "This ain't no rescue mission." His eyes switch back to Kingsley. "Is it, Guard? We're not going to St. Joseph's to get anyone out of that building. We're going to make sure whatever’s inside that building stays in."
Kingsley doesn't even try to lie.
"You all saw those leeches earlier, same as me. They're newly infected. We can't take any chance of bringing that infection back to the Grand. If there's any indication of any type of parasite at St. Joseph's..."
"If there’s any indication that our people are still alive, then yeah, we’re getting them out," my words are meant for the young ginger, but my eyes stare defiantly at Kingsley. Don't know what kind of shit he’s trying to pull, but we are not turning our back on any survivors.
"Cooper's orders are to bring that building down, Bixby. Are you going to defy the Captain's orders?"
My top lip curls in anger, but I don't bother to respond to the softly asked question. I truly don’t know if I could defy a direct order from Coop as much as I don't agree with it.
"No sense arguing over things we know nothing about yet," Luke interjects, once again trying to defuse the situation. "Those leeches back there...well, could be any number of reasons why they didn't look worn down. Maybe they were locked in somewhere when they turned eight years ago. We know for a fact those infected that don't get to feed seem to go into a form of dormancy. Maybe they've been cooped up for years and just recently got released, and that's why they still look fresh. Sounds reasonable enough, doesn't it? Now why don't you all get some rest? I'll take first watch."
A couple of halfhearted murmurs follow Luke's question, almost as if agreeing with him is easier than acknowledging the glaring truth. No one wants to admit that a new wave of infected can even be possible. We’ve been fighting the infected for eight years now, and we’re nowhere close to winning this war. Christ, truth be told, we’re barely surviving. So the thought of more infected to fight, well, it kind of makes me want to cry. And if Kingsley is right, now there’s a whole new threat to worry about. If the alien parasite is evolving and has learned to speak and think, then to quote Rocky's waxing poetic words, “We are fucked.”
Chapter 35
"No movement on our side," Kingsley's voice is weirdly distorted as the radio in Luke's hand sparks to life.
We had split into two groups earlier on our approach to St. Joseph's. Dom, Kingsley, and his men were monitoring the back while we stayed at the front. From a distance the hospital looked the same as always; a towering gray brick of a building. The gated walls that encased the hospital grounds and helped protect the hundreds of people that lived there appeared no worse for wear. It looked the same as it had on our other visits. But as we’d gotten closer, we could see the buckled gate nearly torn from the wall and hanging with the barest of holds. Funny thing is though it had been hanging towards us, like something had busted out of it...not in. What the hell?
Situating myself more comfortably against the hot roof of the car wreck concealing us, I re-adjust my binoculars and start scanning the floors again, top to bottom. We’ve been watching the building for the better part of the morning, but still no sign of movement. Kingsley isn't taking the chance of any threat lying in wait for us, though. We’re not to move on the building—one way or another—until he’s sure.
It is seriously pissing me off. The noon day sun sits directly overhead, frying the top of my head and my nose, only adding to my irritation. I'm hot, bored, pissed at myself for forgetting my hat and still not quite sure what the hell I'm supposed to be looking for. To make matters worse, we haven't seen any sign of leeches or ravagers all morning. Nothing to distract us from the boredom of the watch. I’ve never seen the city so empty. It's eerie.
Sighing deeply and blowing the hair off of my sticky forehead, I run the binoculars over the dirt streaked windows again. I’m hoping for some sort of movement. Any sign of something out of place or better yet, survivors. But I see nothing. About to give up, I’m startled by a flash of light from a second floor window. Wait. What is that? I stare intently, my eyeballs practically glued to the binoculars as I scan the floor one more time. Nothing. Maybe it's just the sun reflecting off of an exposed beam or...
The flash nearly blinds me this time and I squint against the glare. Three quick flashes, then three long and three more short. SOS? I hold my breath and watch a little longer. There’s a slight pause, then the signal starts up again. Three short, three long, three short. It’s definitely an SOS. That means someone is still alive in there.
My heart is pounding in excitement as I thrust the binoculars Luke’s way, "Second floor, last window on the right."
He takes the glasses and confirms what I'm seeing.
"SOS."
"Fuck yeah," Gordon whoops quietly from his guard post on the other side of me and holds his knuckle up for a fist bump. I laugh at the shit eating grin covering his freckled face and bump the offered hand.
"There's been no sign of ravagers or leeches for the past two hours. Nothing but that SOS. Let Kingsley know it's time to move in."
Luke stares at the building in silence, ignoring my comment. Then as if talking to himself, he mutters, "Hmmmm, no sign of movement anywhere in the building, yet we have a SOS coming from the second floor. Whoever is sending that signal, why don't they just leave? Walk out. If nothing is stopping them, why do they need our help?"
See, I didn't stop to think of that. I just wanted to barge on in. Trust Luke to think things through more thoroughly.
"Locked in maybe? Injured? Broken leg? Could be anything," I suggest, not caring if his question is directed to me or not.
"Yep, could be," he drawls. "Or it could be a trap. They may have spotted us and are now trying to lure us in."
"Or maybe it's Kelly and his group needing our goddamned help," I snap, finally losing patience. "Or some other survivor. We have to make the right decision here, Luke. We can’t let Kingsley just blow up the fucking building without knowing."
Luke sighs at me before raising the radio to his lips.
"Kingsley, we have a distress signal on the second floor. No sign of any hostiles. Okay to proceed?"
"Negative," Kingsley's flat response crackles its way to our ears. "Too risky. Observe for the moment and stay put."
Seriously? We’ve been observing for the past few hours. What the hell are we waiting for? An invitation and party banner?
"Luke, tell him there has to be survivors in there that need our help. We need to get them out. Now."
I know he agrees, because he doesn't argue with me like normal. Instead he raises the radio to convey my message but at that moment the SOS flashes again with more urgency, and I don't need binoculars to see it this time. My eyes are glued to the exact spot. Someone knows we’re out here and they’re begging for our help.
"Right. We're going in," Luke decides, turning off his radio and Kingsley's annoying commands. Squashing down my surprise at his unexpected decision, I throw my binoculars into my backpack and follow his lead.
We join Badger and Cal at their guard posts and survey the street in both directions. Nothing in sight. We have a clear approach.
"Kingsley gave us the green light to go?" Cal asks.
I mumble, "Um, yeah," over my shoulder. I guess I'm convincing enough since they both fall in line as we make a beeline for the busted out gate. Reaching it unimpeded, we flatten ourselves against the concrete wall on one side, while Gordon and Luke do the same on the other side of the gate. Drawing his gun, Luke motions to Badger and I concede to let the dude with the other gun make the first step pass the gate.
On the silent count of three they step away from the wall, moving as one. They pivot at the apex of the corner so they each have the others background view in sight. Pausing at the exact same time they slice the pie of the hospital grounds, guns ready for anything. Slowly they step past the blind side of the wall, and I feel my own coiled muscles relax as I watch the tensio
n leave Luke's shoulders.
"Clear," he calls softly over his shoulder and the rest of us file in.
He’s right. The other side of the wall is clear. No leeches stumbling about. No guards like there should have been. No bodies. Where is everyone? Unease rolls about in my gut and I grip my knives a little tighter.
He motions to the crudely enforced, steel door of St. Joseph's. The door that should be locked tight, but stands wide open. That can't be good. Following the same routine, Luke and Badger mimic their actions at the gate. Giving the door a hard shove, it slams against the wall with a loud crash and stays open.
Luke hovers in the doorway and scans the room before stepping inside with caution. I follow close on his heels, knives in hand; ready for anything that may come our way. As the others search the perimeter, I make my way to the huge half-moon reception desk dominating the middle of the room. I peer around it with slow deliberation. There’s no one lurking behind it waiting to ambush us, or even just hiding from whatever threat had attacked here.
"Clear," I call over my shoulder, and I get the same response echoing back from the rest of the room. Just like the outer grounds, the lobby of the once bustling hospital is empty. We look around, on full alert for the slightest movement. But there's nothing.
A derelict vending machine leans precariously against the far wall, facing away from the pitch-black hallway to the left of it. A yawning mouth of darkness lies beyond the propped open metal doors. A fucking prime breeding ground for creepy crawlies and sharp teethed anomalies, says every horror movie ever made. Why had I watched so much of that shit as a kid? As I peer down the hallway a cold shiver works its way down my spine like hundreds of tiny spiders crawling down my back, and I swear to God I see movement. Is there someone in there?
"What the fuck?" Kingsley's angry words echo loudly in the cavernous room, scaring the bejesus out of me so badly I nearly drop my knives. He and the rest of the crew pile into the lobby behind us, their noisy arrival disturbing the unnatural quiet.
"I thought I told you to stand down!" His eyes are steaming piss holes in his red face, and they’re staring straight at me like he thinks this is my idea. Why’s he automatically blaming me?
But Luke takes the heat off of me. Shrugging at Kingsley, he says in a level voice, "Sorry man, your last transmission was all garbled. I thought you told us to go ahead. I made the call. My bad. I'm real sorry, dude. The SOS came from the second floor though, so since we're already in here and all..."
Luke's look is so genuinely rueful that I know Kingsley doesn't quite know how to react to it. I turn my head so the older man can't see my lips twitching at Luke's complete bullshit act of contrition. I had been on the receiving end of that look more than once over the years. Totally fake.
The older man draws in a breath and stares at Luke as if deciding on a response. A slight tic in his left eye the only sign he’s still struggling with his temper. Finally giving the barest of nods, he grits his teeth.
"Fine. But we do not proceed until we clear and secure this floor. Got it?"
"You're the boss," Luke accedes and this seems to mollify Kingsley somewhat.
"Spread out in groups of three. Bixby, you're with me." He stares at me-eyes narrowed, as if to say he’s going to be watching me. Fine. Whatever. "Wentworth, with them." He barks at one of his men, and the young guy moves to stand with Cal and Badger. "Cover every inch of this floor. Each group stays in radio contact at all times, understood. Once we confirm there are no hostiles, we will proceed to the next level."
There's no need for further commands; we all know what needs to be done. Each group is assigned one of the three hallways leading away from the lobby and we head out. Of course our hallway would be the pitch black tunnel that had spooked me earlier. Well at least I’ll get to see if what I thought to be movement is real or just a figment of my imagination. Considering the way it chilled me...I kind of hope it is all in my head.
Our solar flashlights penetrate the gloom of the wide hall as we traverse the darkness. I'm thankful for the feeble beams since we don't make it far before the familiar scent hits our noses. Ugh. That smell. It always conjures up hated memories of the stupid jar of pennies my father had kept on the window sill in the den whenever he was home. The stench of the copper pennies baking in the hot sun stunk up the room even more than he did. I hated going in there. Even after he went back on the road and Mom moved the jar, the smell lingered.
The metallic, coppery odor assaulting my senses at the moment is no jar of pennies. This smell can only mean one thing. Blood.
It appears jet black in the sickly beam of light, and I can feel my gut rolling in aversion. The sight of congealing blood does this to me every time. Even after all these years. Flashbacks of watching my mom’s blood solidify on the bedroom floor threaten to overwhelm me. I force the memories back into their nasty, dark cubbyhole and lock them away again. No time for crazy Bix right now. I need to stay focused.
Here in the hallway, the blood seems to be everywhere. Covering the floor; splattering the wall. One thick puddle tapers off into long streaks of maroon, staining the tile like some morbid abstract painting. Like whoever had lost this blood had then crawled or been dragged away from the attack point.
Kingsley follows the streaks up the tile floor with his flashlight, and I expect to see the bloody corpse of the poor bastard it had come from littering the hallway like a piece of discarded trash. But we don't see anybody. There’s enough blood splattered in this hallway for dozens of bodies, but we don't find a single one. Strange. Leeches only want the blood since they have no need for flesh, so the carcass is always left behind. Ravagers want the flesh, but they prefer to capture their victims and take them alive. They rarely kill their prey until they’re ready to eat them. They don't want the meat to go rancid. So what exactly happened here? Where are the people?
We continue on our journey, which irony of ironies, leads us straight down the hall to the cafeteria. A faint glow emits through the crack of the slightly opened doors. At least there are still lights on in there. But as we creep closer a nauseating stench hits us, much worse than the blood. It’s the smell of death, and I know immediately that we’ve found the residents of St. Joseph's.
Part of me wants to run. I know from past experience we won’t find anyone alive in that room. That revolting reek leaves no doubt. I even attempt to tell Kingsley that, but he makes the decision before I can. Throwing open the doors, he lays bare the cafeteria to our unprepared psyches. And as if we can't help ourselves, we go in. I wish to God the lights had died in here as well since all they do is throw shadow over the horrifying sight that meets our eyes.
Bodies...no not even bodies...pieces of what undoubtedly were humans at one time litter the room like a sanguinary ticker tape parade from hell. Dismembered corpses lay bloating in the middle of the cafeteria, a rotting, stinking mound of carrion. A gore-caked body congeals in the corner—having simply crawled there to die. Heads and arms and legs adorn every single table in the room like prized trophies lining a mantle. Strips of bloody flesh hang from the walls and ceilings, surrounded by buzzing flies, fat and lethargic from the bountiful feast.
I can hear Kingsley's man, Taylor, retching as he turns away from the nightmarish scene. His face contorts into a grotesque mask as he pukes his breakfast up straight my way. Leaping away just in time from the projectile vomit, the foul shit splashes across my boots with a sour sickening smell, causing my own guts to threaten to do the same. Stumbling straight into the damn cupboard behind me, my shoulder rams it painfully. The door flies open at the contact and spilling the contents from inside.
Christ Almighty.
The blonde, bloodied head hits my shoulder, and as if in slow motion, does a morbid bump and grind down my arm leaving behind a trail of pinkish gore before hitting the floor with a wet plop.
"Fuck! Fuck! FUCK!" I scream, unable to hold my revulsion in any longer, wiping at my arm with frantic fingers and jumping away from the horri
fying piece of flesh. What the fuck is this?
Never have I seen such brutality...not even from the ravagers. What the hell had happened here?
Desperately wanting to run but still rooted in place, I tear my eyes away from the head staring up at me and search for Kingsley. His face is ashen; his eyes glazed and unfocused.
"We have to blow this place now," he whispers to no one in particular.
I almost agree. But then I remember the SOS. As unthinkable as it may seem, someone is still alive in here.
"No, we have to find the survivors first," I say, but my protest is lame-ass.
He shakes his head at me in denial. "There are no survivors. Nothing could survive...this."
Without another word, he starts tearing at the backpack on his shoulder, struggling to get it off. The backpack filled with C4.
"Kingsley." He doesn't seem to hear me. "Kingsley." My voice grows louder-more insistent this time and I finally get his attention. He stops what he’s doing and looks at me with his pale eyes.
"There are survivors on the second floor. They may be our people. So no one’s blowing this damn place until we find them. Understood?"
His nod is sluggish, as if my words take a while to register.
"Good. Now hand me the radio."
He unhooks it from his belt and hands it over without question.
"Luke? Badger?" I question into the mic, worried as hell and hoping to high heaven that they answer me. "You guys there?"
The silence seems to drag on forever, but then the radio crackles to life.
"Yeah, here," Luke's deep timbre resonates back, and I close my eyes in relief. "You should see this shit, Bix. There's blood everywhere. But no bodies. Weirdest damn thing I've ever seen."
"Here too," Badger pipes up.
"Yeah...we found the bodies," I say in disgust as I step away from the severed head, turning my back to it. I can't stand to look at the vacant stare anymore. "Did you find anything else?"
"No, this area is clear," Luke answers, and I can hear the unspoken concern in his voice at my words. Badger confirms the same.
