Insanely Deadly

by Holly Copella

  The little girl stared at Gina while she cleaned a bleeding wound on a woman's forearm. The little girl appeared squeamish.

  “Did a dog bite you?” she timidly asked the woman.

  The injured woman, Wendy, offered a weary smile to the little girl in Tanner's arms. “No, a cheerleader bit me,” she replied with a humored laugh.

  “The world's gone mad, sunflower,” Tanner told the little girl. He bounced her in his arms. “How about a piggyback ride to the locker room?”

  She appeared excited and nodded. Tanner flipped her over his shoulder and onto his back. She clung to his shoulder pads as he bounced her across the gym toward the locker rooms. Gina smiled, shook her head, and looked at her patient.

  “Who would have guessed a jock would be so good with kids?” Gina teased.

  “Tanner gets the neighbor's kids ready for school every morning,” Wendy replied. “Their mother works early mornings and the father works nights. He stays with them until their father gets home and drives them to school.”

  “Is that why I see him running to school every morning?” Gina asked.

  Wendy nodded. “When their father's late, he's late. Principal Remy cuts him some slack.”

  The men watching the inside door opened it to reveal the seven returning from patrol. All seven filtered into the crowd and attempted to check on everyone. Principal Remy approached Gina and looked over her patients.

  “Everything okay? Is anyone seriously hurt?”

  “Nothing serious. We're good here,” Gina replied. “Tanner went to get more medical supplies from the boy's locker room. I don't suppose we have access to any painkillers?”

  “There might be some in the nurse's office,” Remy announced. “But I wouldn't count on anything stronger then over-the-counter pain relievers.”

  “I suppose anything will do for now,” Gina said.

  “I'll take anything,” Wendy informed them. “The bite on my arm feels like it's burning.”

  “Bites are nasty,” Gina informed her. “I know; I deal with them every day. Sometimes even on myself.”

  “You were bit?” Remy asked the injured woman with surprise. “What bit you?”

  “A cheerleader.”

  Remy suddenly appeared deep in thought. Few that made it to the gym had witnessed the attacks close-up. “I'm going to check the nurse's office and see what I can find. You just hold on, okay?”

  Wendy nodded. Remy hurried across the room and grabbed Hanson by the arm. She pulled him away from everyone and spun to face him.

  “What's wrong?” Hanson asked.

  “I don't know,” Remy replied while looking around with concern. “What happened on that field? Did anyone actually see anything?”

  “All I saw was a bunch of football players attacking the band,” Hanson replied. “There was a lot of blood, a lot of screaming, and a whole lot of panic.”

  “Yeah, but what was causing the blood?” Remy asked. “Were they armed with knives or something?”

  “I don't know,” he replied. “I just assumed, but I didn't see what happened.”

  “I'm having a very bad feeling right now,” Remy announced. “We need to find out what others saw.”

  “I don't know what--?”

  “How do you explain an entire football team going psycho and attacking the marching band? It doesn't make any sense,” she informed him. “Maybe it's not insanity. What if it's a virus? Gina's tending to Wendy's injuries. She said a cheerleader bit her. What did a cheerleader from our community have to do with the away team football players going berserk? And why was the cheerleader biting Wendy?”

  “She was bit by a cheerleader?” Hanson shook his head and looked across the room at Gina and her patients. He looked back at Remy. “Find a window and take a closer look outside. Tell me what you see out there.”

  “What are you going to do?” she asked.

  “I'm going to talk to the bite victim,” he informed her. “Maybe she saw something we didn't.”

  Remy hurried across the room and climbed a ladder to the elevated windows. A small crowd watched her and chattered among themselves. Dixon saw her, appeared curious, and then looked at Hanson crossing the room toward the group of injured people. As Hanson approached, Gina sprang to her feet and hurried toward one of her patients who was having a seizure. She slid onto the floor alongside the man and attempted to stop his spasms. Hanson picked up his pace and hurried toward them. As he passed Wendy sitting on the floor, she fell over. Hanson stood over Gina as she tried to hold the seizing man down.

  “What's happening?”

  “I don't know,” Gina frantically replied. “I think he's having a seizure. I don't usually work with people.”

  “Was he bit?” Hanson suddenly asked.

  The man stopped thrashing. Gina appeared relieved while kneeling alongside him then looked at Hanson.

  “Yes, why do you ask?”

  The man suddenly sat up with a snarl and lunged for Gina's neck while her back was turned. She saw him and screamed. A bullet struck him in the forehead. As he collapsed to the floor, there was a round of screams from the room followed by total silence. Gina fell onto her backside, stared at the dead man, and then looked at Hanson holding his gun.

  “It's spread through bites!” Hanson shouted to the others. “They're not psychotic; they're zombies!”

  Gina stared at him and remained horrified. He suddenly looked at her.

  “Who else was bitten?”

  She stared at him in apparent shock then looked behind him and screamed. Hanson spun around as zombie Wendy tackled him to the floor. His gun flew from his hand and slid across the floor. Gina continued to scream as Hanson attempted to hold the woman's head back to keep her from biting him. A knife was suddenly plunged into the side of her head. She fell limp against Hanson's arms. Hanson tossed the dead woman off him and scrambled onto his backside while breathing heavily. Dixon stared with a look of horror at the dead woman with his knife sticking out of her skull.

  “What the hell?” Dixon exploded. “And I really mean--what the hell!”

  As Remy stared out the window near the top of the gymnasium, her expression at what she saw outside said it all. Hanson scrambled to his feet and reclaimed his gun. Dixon pulled his knife from the woman's head. Both looked at Gina.

  “Who else was bitten?” Hanson demanded to know.

  Gina uncertainly looked at the back wall. Another man lie motionless on the floor. A second was already snarling while springing to his feet. Hanson groaned loudly with frustration and aimed his gun at the charging man. His gun fired.

  †

  Tanner bounced the little girl around on his back as he cantered down the rows of lockers toward the office area. She giggled while clinging to his shoulder pads. He stopped with a whinny then helped her dismount.

  “Again, again,” she cried out with delight.

  “On the way back,” he replied. “We need to find a big box with a red cross on the front of it.”

  The little girl looked around then pointed to it near the desk. “Is that it?”

  Tanner looked in the direction she pointed, saw the large kit alongside the desk, and grinned at her. “Good eyes, sunflower.”

  He approached the desk and reached for the large medical kit. A zombie referee suddenly appeared on the floor behind the desk and bit Tanner on the calf. Tanner cried out, kicked the referee off him, and fell to the floor while the little girl screamed. As the referee sprang to his knees and leaped for Tanner on the floor, the little girl pulled on his shoulder pads.

  “Get up, get up!” she cried to Tanner then looked at the zombie referee. “Don't bite him, Daddy!”

  Tanner appeared horrified by her words and scrambled to his feet as the zombie referee lunged for him. He dodged out of his path. The zombie referee crashed into the lockers and struck the floor. He appeared dazed. Tanner grabbed the little girl's shoulders and forced her to look into his eyes.

  “I want you to hide in one of the l
ockers and don't come out until I get you,” he told her firmly.

  She sobbed and nodded.

  “I need you to be really quiet,” he told her. “No piggyback rides if you aren't quiet.”

  She nodded while holding back her sobs.

  “Go!”

  She ran across the locker room and disappeared down one of the aisles. A locker was heard opening then closing. Tanner looked around the desk area as the zombie returned to his feet. Tanner leaped across the desk as the zombie referee charged for him. Tanner grabbed a baseball bat alongside the desk and swung for the zombie referee's head. The bat connected with his head, and the zombie was thrown back several feet. Tanner jumped over the desk with the bat clutched in his hands. The zombie referee stumbled slightly then snarled at him. He charged him with less vigor. Tanner cried out and swung the bat for his head. The bat crushed his skull while snapping his neck. The zombie collapsed to the floor and no longer moved. Tanner stared at the dead zombie referee, closed his eyes, and sobbed softly. He sniffed, wiped his eyes, and straightened. He wiped the blood off the bat, grabbed the medical kit, and hurried across the locker room.

  “Sunflower,” he called as he ran. “It's okay, you can come out now.”

  The little girl uncertainly crawled out from one of the lockers. Tanner forced a smile and lowered his back to the changing bench. She climbed onto his back, clung to his shoulder pads, and wiped the tears from her eyes.

  “Is Daddy okay?”

  Tanner held his breath as he carried her on his back through the locker room and fought his tears. “He's resting.”

  †

  Tanner carried the little girl on his back across the crowded gymnasium. There was no bouncing and little joy to their return piggyback ride. Tanner looked around at the many silent, concerned faces. Something had happened and it couldn't have been good. Tanner approached a clearly emotional Gina with the large medical kit. He suddenly stopped when he saw the four, covered bodies on the floor.

  “Tanner, what's that?” the little girl asked of the carefully covered bodies.

  “They're resting,” he said softly.

  Gina uncertainly took the medical kit with trembling hands. Hanson, Dixon, and Remy stood near the bodies with their heads down. Tanner stared at the bodies with the horror evident on his face then looked at Gina.

  “What happened?” he asked softly.

  “It's a virus that turns the infected into zombies or something,” Gina said weakly. “It's spread through bites.”

  Tanner stared at her and appeared unable to speak.

  “Tanner got bit,” the little girl announced.

  Gina stared at Tanner with horror on her face. Remy suddenly looked at them then quickly approached while staring at Tanner with shock.

  “You were bit?” Remy gasped.

  Tanner slowly set the little girl down and stared at Remy and Gina. He watched Dixon and Hanson uncertainly approach while softly talking between them. The nature of their conversation was easily assumed.

  “Well, yes and no,” Tanner replied. He knelt down on one knee and rolled up his uniform pants leg. He tapped his leg pad. “I was protected.”

  All four groaned and appeared relieved.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Mostly everyone had gathered within the lounge and had drinks before them to calm their nerves after the earlier events within the lobby. There were twenty-five people including staff and guests still within the hotel. Doc held ice to the back of his head and appeared visibly shaken by his brush with death. Styles sat in one of the chairs with his injured leg propped on another. He was still pale and in some discomfort, but he didn't look nearly as haggard. It appeared the painkillers were doing their job. Jetta sat on a chair near Styles with his gun belt and reloaded the gun. Styles watched her skillfully load his gun with purpose. She looked a little too at home loading the weapon.

  “I really hate admitting it, but you're a better shot than I am,” Styles said timidly.

  Jetta glanced at him and appeared humored by the comment. “While other girls were taking dance and ballet, I was taking karate and weapons training,” she remarked then chuckled. “I guess my father was hoping I'd spontaneously combust into the son he'd always wanted.”

  “I guess he was disappointed when you didn't, huh?” Styles remarked with a soft chuckle.

  “I'm pretty sure he thinks I did,” Jetta teased.

  Styles laughed softly then shifted and appeared uneasy. Something more was obviously bothering him, and he appeared afraid to admit it. “Do you think Barb was, you know, like those outside? Do you think she was a zombie?”

  “I'm guessing there's a strong possibility,” she replied. “You said Dennis and Pam were missing around the same time you found Ted's truck crashed in their porch. Plenty of blood but no bodies. Well, those government guys put some sort of rock into a biohazard box. I think whatever happened started at Albright's place with whatever they put in that box.”

  “And it spread to Zion's place?”

  Jetta nodded. “Where Barb was then infected, and you were forced to shoot her.”

  Styles appeared tense and shifted uncomfortably. “What if--what if Barb bit me? It happened so fast, Jetta. It could be a bite on my leg. I could turn into one of those things.”

  Jetta gave him a sympathetic look and placed her hand on his. He stared at her with fear in his eyes. She stared back into his eyes with all seriousness.

  “Deputy, you injured your leg while kicking the door in,” she replied gently.

  “But how do you know it wasn't--”

  “I saw Doc plucking wood splinters from your wound,” she said gently. “He was trying to spare your pride by letting you think it happened during the tussle.”

  Styles stared at her a long moment. He suddenly smiled and laughed softly. Jetta returned the smile and patted his arm. Rafael entered the room with Carter behind him barely keeping up. Despite his size, Rafael had an amazingly fast gait. They approached Jetta and Styles and sat at the table. Neither appeared particularly pleased with what they learned.

  “Rafael couldn't reach the sheriff's patrol car or Rosemary at the office on the radio,” Carter informed them with a defeated sigh while helping himself to a drink.

  Styles appeared concerned and shifted in his chair. “You couldn't get ahold of Sheriff Palmer?”

  “Statistically speaking, his cruiser wouldn't exactly be a safe place to hole up,” Jetta informed the deputy.

  “I did get a hold of the principal at the school,” Rafael remarked with some enthusiasm. “There are around eight hundred people from the football game seeking shelter in the gym.”

  “Did you ask if anyone was bitten?” Jetta asked. “There could be a mass breakout.”

  “They already found out the hard way,” Rafael replied. “Thankfully there was a retired police officer among the visitors. Principal Remy said Dixon is with them. They handled the situation before it escalated.”

  “Dixon?” Jetta asked then grinned. “I've heard him swapping war stories with my father. He's a good one to have around in a crisis situation.”

  Styles was nearly ready to jump out of his chair. It was obvious he was feeling the need to be doing something more. “Did you try the coast guard frequency, Rafael?”

  “I'm not real savvy on the whole radio thing, dude,” Rafael replied. “If you can roll it in flour or sprinkle it with cinnamon, I'm your man.”

  “Take Tyler,” Carter said to Rafael. “He's really good with radios and nautical jargon. I'm sure he can call up someone in the harbor or off the coast.”

  “Sure--cool.”

  Rafael stood and headed for Tyler, who was hanging out at the bar and serving free drinks to the weary guests. Bishop entered with a fast, determined gait, approached their table, and collapsed in Rafael's vacant chair. He took Jetta's drink, drank the entire contents of the glass, and then glanced around the table.

  “What do we know?” he asked.

  “The hotel is s
ecure. None of the infected are getting inside,” Carter informed him. “I think we're safe for now. Hopefully help will arrive in a few hours, but we haven't been able to reach the mainland or Sheriff Palmer.”

  Bishop appeared unusually stressed, which was unlike him. “So what's the plan? Sit and wait?”

  “Do you have a better one?” Carter asked.

  “No, but Jetta does.”

  Jetta stared at Bishop and appeared surprised by his comment. She wondered what gave him that idea.

  “Yeah, her big plan was a suicide run to get Hunter,” Carter scoffed.

  “What makes you think I have a plan?” Jetta finally asked out of curiosity.

  He looked at her and appeared surprised by the question. “You're the only one here whose father is a bad ass Navy Seal Admiral, and you've spent the last seven years baby-sitting his number two bad ass Navy Seal comrade. You can't tell me you don't have a plan.”

  She stared at him a moment in silence then turned serious and leaned closer to him. Oddly enough, she did have a plan. “There are two duffel bags in the back of my helicopter with automatic weapons and grenades left by the government guys. There's enough firepower to wipe them all out.”

  “Your helicopter is at the hanger. How do we get to the helicopter?” Bishop asked.

  “We have two guns and enough chemicals from housekeeping to make some really nice Molotov cocktails,” Jetta informed him. “We'll have teams of two drop the explosives onto strategically placed cars and clear a path.”

  Bishop suddenly chuckled. “You do realize you'll wipe out half of the parking lot,” he remarked. “I think you've been hanging around Hunter too long.”

  “Do you have a better idea?” she demanded.

  “No,” he replied. “I don't need one. I never said I didn't like your plan.”

  “Whoa! Blow up cars? Take out the parking lot? Help will arrive,” Carter insisted while appearing annoyed.

  Both ignored him and leaned in closer to discuss their plan of attack.