In a heartbeat the demented was back on top of Tom. Tom used one hand and his forearm to hold the demented back. The demented’s chest and arms were slick with blood. Tom lost his grip. Teeth sunk into Tom’s shoulder and he screamed out. Intense pain shot through his neck.
There was a loud crash as something slammed into the door they had entered through. The pounding continued as someone tried to force their way through.
Tom struggled to get his free hand on the throat of the demented. As it continued to gnaw at his flesh, Tom squeezed its throat and tried to push it off of him. Using his grip to crush as hard as he possibly could, Tom was able to get the thing’s teeth off of his exposed flesh. With a loud grunt he shoved the demented off of him. Ripping around on top of him, Tom began slamming his fists down into what he believed was the demented’s face. The demented struggled, trying to squirm out from under Tom, but he continued to beat at it with his fists. Even once it no longer moved Tom kept pounding on it. His wet, bloody fists stung from each impact, but he continued on. He hit it with a few last exhausted punches and let out a scream of frustration.
Flopping off of the dead man, Tom rolled onto his back. He lay there, sucking in air. The pounding at the door continued, but he was unconcerned at the moment. Once he finally got his breath back he whispered, “Eddie, you there?” No response. Now he whisper-shouted, “Eddie! You there?” Nothing.
Tom rolled over onto his stomach and with monumental effort, rose to his knees. His eyes were open and he was looking toward the far door that they had entered through, but in the pitch dark, he saw nothing. The pounding continued, even escalated, and Tom wondered how long the door could stand up to such a beating.
Still on his hands and knees, Tom began crawling in the direction he had last heard Eddie. “Eddie...Eddie.” He swept his hands out in front of him, reaching into the darkness. His hands touched something...metal...a patient chair. Continuing to feel along the base of the chair, Tom’s hand felt hair. “Eddie!” His hand felt along Eddie’s head and found the base of his skull was slick and wet. Moving his hand down to Eddie’s neck, Tom checked for a pulse, nothing, Eddie was gone.
Tom had not known Eddie for long, really just a couple days, but the kid had been a trooper. They had been put in some of the worst situations imaginable and he had stuck through it. Even when everything hit the fan, Eddie stayed put to help Tom. He couldn’t help but feel guilty. Maybe they should have taken the hallways. Maybe they should have used their firearms. The list of maybes and what-ifs could go on and on. Despite the heavy chest, Tom shoved the guilt to the back of his mind, knowing he would have to deal with it later.
A loud splintering noise came from the far door, followed by growls.
Tom quickly checked over Eddie’s body until he found his pistol. He shoved it into the back of his pants and spun around. Estimating where he last heard his rifle hit the floor, Tom began crawling. He swept his hands out in front of him, feeling for anything. When his hands touched a leather boot he knew he was close. He had at least found the demented’s body.
There was a sudden loud cracking noise as the door gave way to the horde that wanted in so desperately. Shrieks and growls filled the room as demented spilled in through the opening. Meager light spilled in through the splintered door. Tom could make out silhouetted forms climbing through, but the darkness quickly swallowed them up once inside the room. He continued to crawl across the floor, his hands hitting on another patient chair. Scuttling on all fours, Tom scampered behind the chair.
Items clattered to the floor and loud barks filled the room as more and more demented piled in. The darkness affected them just like it did Tom. They stumbled around blindly, running into patient chairs and one another. With the lack of prey in sight, their fury seemed to slowly subside. After several minutes of angered chaos, the room slowly became a bunch of hidden forms shuffling around in the darkness.
A few had found Eddie’s body on the ground. Disgusting, wet ripping sounds followed. Their consumption of the body was ferocious and gut wrenching. Tom remained huddled behind the chair, in the small space between it and the wall. The urge to throw up was nearly overwhelming. His stomach churned and his head spun. Both the thick darkness and the terrible noises were getting to him, dizziness and nausea combining. Disorientation caused him to fall over, landing on something hard. Its edges dug into Tom’s ribs, nearly causing him to scream out in pain.
Tom sat back up and reached out to see what had hurt so badly. His hand rested on the familiar cold metal of his AR15. Even though it would do him little good in the dark, it was still very comforting. He hugged it to his chest like a newborn baby. Without realizing what he was doing, Tom slowly dozed off.
Chapter 9: Unexpected
When Tom woke up he was still curled up behind the patient chair, clutching his rifle to his chest. His whole body ached. He had no idea how long he had been asleep, but surprisingly the room sounded like it had emptied out a bit. There was still the sound of shuffling feet and occasional groans, but it sounded like only a few infected. Tom was both shocked and thankful that none of them had found him tucked away by the wall.
Looking out from around the chair, Tom was surprised to see a bit of light spilling in from somewhere. It was faint and only caught edges of chairs and counters, outlining their vague forms in a dull gray. Tom saw the light was coming from both the broken door and the door that supposedly led to an office area. One of the infected had managed to open the door and now it remained partway open, letting in a sliver of light.
There was movement in the far corner, past the open door. The shape was nearly formless, but Tom knew it was an infected. His ears told him there was at least one more in the room somewhere closer to the destroyed door.
Tom slowly untangled himself from the scrunched knot he had placed himself in, and then slowly rose to a half crouch. He held his rifle to his shoulder, ready for an assault. It came sooner than he would have thought. The demented instantly noticed the movement and screamed out in rage. From directly across the room, the nearest one charged directly toward Tom. Two quick pulls of the trigger dropped it to the floor. The recoil was a bit shocking to Tom’s aching body, stinging his shoulder and sending sharp pains down his arm.
There were two more demented in the room with him and both of them were racing his way. Their dark forms were silhouetted by the dim light spilling in through the broken door. In a hurry to get to Tom, both of them slammed into one of the patient chairs halfway across the room. The base of the chair was mounted to the floor. Both demented went flying head first over the stout chair.
Tom fired off a couple quick shots, just missing high as they both fell to the floor. Quickly sidestepping across the room to get a better angle, Tom continued firing at the dark forms that struggled to rise to their feet.
Rather than wait to see if they were dead or not Tom ran for the partially open door. The door burst all the way open in front of Tom, slamming up against the wall. Several demented raced into the room. There was a brief burst of light before the door slowly swung back to a nearly closed position. The demented sprinted right past Tom, continuing all the way to the center of the room.
Using their haste to his advantage, Tom darted across the last few feet, flung open the door, and raced through the opening. Spinning around, he closed the door behind him. The door could only be locked with a key, so Tom left it, hoping the closed door would at least slow the meat heads.
With his back pressed to the wooden door, Tom surveyed the room in front of him. The space was filled with grey cubicles, several to each side of a narrow hallway that led to another door.
The demented slammed into the door behind Tom, shaking him. The door handle began to jiggle.
Tom raced across the room with his rifle aimed in front of him, scanning for targets. There was no movement in any of the cubicles. Emergency lighting kept this area dimly lit from a pair of wall mounted lights. Tom heard the door handle click open behind him. He could no
t believe how fast they were. They were so dumb in the beginning.
Reaching the far door, Tom recklessly flung it open and darted through the opening, pulling it closed behind him. He was immediately hit by screams of rage. Looking left down the hall Tom saw a massive horde of demented sprinted his way. They were pouring through a wide open front door. Beyond the glass there appeared to be hundreds of demented packed into the front parking lot, all pushing to get inside. The back ones probably did not see Tom, but the excitement and anger of the front ones trickled back through the ranks, like wind blowing through a wheat field.
Tom spun to the right and was met with a half dozen demented racing his way. The nearest one was less than ten feet away and closing fast. Rifle raised, Tom began firing at the hideous attacker while running directly toward him. Tom continued firing while he ran, knowing the horde was bearing down on him from behind. Loud booms echoed down the hallway as Tom rapidly pulled the trigger. His sights bounced and jiggled as he ran, but the demented were so close and bunched together he couldn’t miss.
Tom charged down the hall like a gun toting berserker from the pit of hell. Taking all the pent up frustration for the days of struggles and losses, Tom released a bit of it with every trigger pull. The recoil, the bang, the spilled blood, the smell of acrid cordite all made him feel better. It was the drug fix for a desperate man fed up with everything. He knew it wouldn’t bring all those they had lost back, nor would it get him Sam, but it felt good.
He did not know how many he had killed before reaching the corner, but had he looked back he would have seen a horrific trail of bodies and gore. Demented sprinted, hurdled, and tripped over the dead in their pursuit. The hallway was filled with them climbing over one another, hungry for flesh, violence, and death.
At the corner Tom could see several more demented racing his way from the left and to his right was the elevator. Chipped cement walls surrounded the large metal doors. Along the wall sat the two buttons for up or down, neither was lit, and Tom knew this was the moment of truth. It would be a matter of seconds before he was swarmed by demented, far more than he had bullets for. It all hinged on the hope that a hospital would tie their primary elevator into the backup power system.
Not wasting any time, Tom lunged for the buttons and hit the up arrow. Even over the growls Tom could hear the soft ding. The button lit up and the elevator doors began to slide apart.
Not having time to thank the hospital’s Engineering Department, Tom rushed into the elevator and scanned the button panel. He was looking for a number three, but then noticed they were labeled ‘B’ for basement, ‘M’ for main, and a ‘2’ for the next floor up. He rapidly hit the number ‘2’ several times. Nothing happened. The doors stood wide open. Raising his rifle, he fired a volley of shots into the oncoming demented. The closest ones collapsed to the floor. Reaching back over to the buttons, Tom began hitting the close doors button as fast as possible. He knew it did not require multiple presses, but he was at least doing something.
The horde began flowing out of the main hall, the first of them slammed into a set of drinking fountains on the far wall, carried by their momentum and the surge of those behind them. Like a flood, the trailing demented began bouncing off and turning the corner toward the elevator.
Tom raised his rifle as the elevator doors finally began their slow slide back together. Rapidly pulling the trigger, Tom began firing shots through the narrowing gap. As fast as they fell, three more took their place. He instinctively began stepping backwards, trying desperately to gain distance in the confined space. His rifle ran dry before the doors came together. The last thing he saw was a hideous, bearded man’s mangled face crash into the doors, and then they came together with a hollow clunk. A strange quiet followed. Only the dull thuds of the demented pounding on the other side of the thick steel could be heard.
The elevator remained in place. Tom slung his AR over his shoulder and stepped over to the button panel. The small room began to spin and blur, dropping Tom to his knees. While he was hunched over catching his breath it suddenly dawned on him that if the demented accidentally hit the arrows outside on the wall, the elevator doors would open. In a heart pounding panic, sure that they would open at any moment, Tom reached up rapidly tapped the button for floor two. When nothing happened he really began to panic. He looked up and saw the ceiling access panel was too high to reach without a boost. Why is this thing not moving?
Working to resist his rising panic, Tom stood back up and looked over the button panel. He hit the ‘B’ for basement to see what would happen. The button lit up and with a distant whir began descending.
His heart raced when he realized the doors would be opening to the basement in a few seconds. He drew the revolver from his holster and tucked into the corner next to the buttons. Holding the pistol tight to his chest while still pointed at the doors, Tom prepared for whatever might happen.
The elevator came to a slow stop followed by a ding from somewhere above. Tom’s heart pounded in his chest. After a brief hesitation the doors began sliding apart. With one hand he reached over and hit the button to close the doors. They continued to open, revealing the cement floor and drab white walls of the basement. With his free hand, Tom kept slowly pressing the pair of facing arrows meant to close the doors. “Come on.” He whispered angrily.
The opening revealed no movement, however a variety of growls and other sounds from nearby spilled in. After standing open for what seemed like an eternity they began their slow slide back closed.
Unsure why it would work now, Tom tried hitting the button for floor two again, but still nothing happened. Following a pair of thin wires, Tom found a gray box with a small keypad on it. Then it all made sense, there was a security code to get up to the surgery floor. He took his rifle and using the butt began slamming the box. It only took a few hits and the case blew apart, sending little pieces clattering to the floor. Hidden beneath was a small circuit board with button sensors and a silicon pad. The pair of wires ran out of sight behind the green system board. Worried that the doors would open at any moment or the main floor would call the elevator back, Tom yanked the wires out the back. With a hope and a prayer he took the exposed copper ends and twisted them together. Nothing happened. He was beginning to feel deflated when he realized that he needed to hit the 2nd floor button again. Almost hesitantly, Tom pressed the button. It immediately lit up and the elevator began to ascend. He breathed a sigh of relief, but at the same time knew that this was far from over.
Tom shouldered his rifle, keeping the pistol out and ready. He took a couple steps backward, hoping the elevator would just keep on moving past the main floor. The readout showed the first floor and the elevator continued its ascent until the number two lit up, and then it eased to a stop. There was a ding and the doors began to slide open.
On the phone Hank had said that he did not think there were infected on the top floor, but that was yesterday, it might be swarming with them now. Tom pointed the large revolver right between the doors. The doors opened to reveal a short section of empty hall. A large red tool cart sat in the center of a blank white wall. The defibrillator on top marked it as a crash cart. There was no movement and the hallway sat quiet. Tom wheeled the crash cart over and wedged it partway in the elevator doorway, not wanting the doors to close.
With his revolver held high and ready, Tom began moving along the wide hallway. The floor and walls were nearly bare, painted the flat white you would expect in a surgical zone. It only took a few paces for Tom to come to a split in the corridor.
Looking to the right, he saw a short hall that terminated at a set of double doors. Before the door was a large corkboard mounted to the wall that was plastered with papers and yellow sticky notes. Next to it a large blue sign with white lettering marked the doors as the operating room entrance. Running through the pair of metal door handles was a beefy chain and padlock. To the side of the lock was a piece of paper stuck to the door with a bright green tape strip. Somethi
ng was written on the paper, but it was illegible from this distance.
Gun out, Tom began moving. The halls remained in silence while Tom neared the OR. He hesitantly ripped the paper free off the door. The note got right to the point, only saying, “You want you’re boy come get him.” Tom angrily crumpled the note and threw it up against the wall.
Using his fist, he banged on the door and then stepped back listening. He could hear rustling on the other side and muffled conversation. Stepping up to the door, he shouted, “Its Tom! Step back, I’m shooting the lock!” He waited, listening. It sounded like those trapped inside had moved away from the door and then yelled something. The large door broke up the sound, making it unintelligible.
Tom moved to the side of the door handles. He hated doing this because of the sound it would make, but he didn’t have any other ideas. Pointing the revolver at the top of the lock, Tom partially shielded his face using his free hand, and then squeezed the trigger. There was a loud roar, clack of metal, and a noise like sand hitting the floor. There was now a gaping gash along the top of the lock, but it still remained in place. Tom fired another shot into the lock. This second shot blew off a chunk of the shank, causing the lock to fall apart, hanging limply.
Tom yanked the chain free and pulled open the pair of doors. A mass of happy faces stared back at him. Kelly came running out of the group, tears streaming down her cheeks. She wrapped her arms around Tom’s neck and shoulders. “I thought you were gone. After the phone call...I thought...” She left it at that and just squeezed him tightly.
“I’m so sorry baby. I should have been here...never should have left you and Sam.” Tom said. Looking over Kelly’s head, Tom could see Hank making his way over. Tom leaned away from Kelly and looked her in the eyes. “I’m going to get him back.”
“We’re going to get him back.” Hank said as he walked up to the two of them. With a grin he added, “It’s good to see your ugly face. I’m betting I missed out on all kinds of fun.”
The Demented Z (Book 2): Desolation Page 12
