by Main, Lynn
Mr. Petrova walks up behind us. “I’m sorry…Les is it? We’ve been in here a long time and lost a lot of people. We don't want any trouble here. We just want…need…to keep the infection out.”
“We don't want any trouble either.” Faith says with a curt smile. “I’m sorry. You’ re right. We have not greeted you two at all warmly. We’re not accustomed to letting people enter this place in the manner in which you did. Still, it would help us immensely if you would look in on our wounded and sick, Ma'am.”
“It’s Faith. Okay fine, I'll help but if one more gun gets raised against Les, we are leaving; both of us.” Faith has a stern almost mean look on her face. When I think back it may be the same look I got when I first met her with her shotgun making the introductions.
“We won't touch your boyfriend. Of course, you have to realize that if you are wrong…” He holds up his hand, directing us to another foyer in the back of the room. “I do hope you are right. It will mean a lot to everyone if there is some way to fight this thing.” He smiles, but it has an air of insubstantiality; like I could reach up and wipe it away, like clinging smoke, and then his real face would appear.
Faint Faith nods and she starts to walk towards the door, but I don’t budge. She pulls at my arm, “Come on Dead Boy, I'm not letting you out of my sight.” she says smiling strangely at me. I reluctantly let her urge me inside.
We enter a large room. There are rows of cots and the smell of bleach and disinfectant. There are only 3 people on the cots separated from each other.
The first boy we see is awake, sitting up and staring with wide eyes as Faith and I are brought over to him. He has a cut on his hand. “He was trying to escape some of them and climbed over a fence and through a broken window.” Mr. Petrova informs us. I don’t mean to, but I look right at his hand as Faith holds it up to inspect. The wound looks terrible and I start to feel woozy while Faith tends to him. I try not to look again, but my eyes want to return to the kid’s hand. She squeezes his palm and watches it bleed a moment.
She then lays it out on his stomach and tells me to bring her the green suitcase. I bring it closer; wearily…I don’t really care for the sight of blood, especially in a sterilized scene like an operating room. I could never watch medical dramas on TV if they were too realistic. If this room was white, my head would already be spinning. Luckily it’s dark and the lamps issue a yellow light on tan wallpaper and burgundy carpet.
The smell of blood is nauseating. The closer I get, the worse the stench and I feel strange. Light headed all of a sudden. I sit the suitcase down beside Faith and she opens it. digging through different kinds of medical things and comes out with a syringe and a small glass vial with a rubber stopper. She fills the syringe and then clearing the air bubbles, sinks it into his leg near his hip.
She then pulls out a needle that is hooked slightly and a small spool of clear twine. She threads the needle and then starts to stitch the wound. The boy barely whimpers as she sinks the needle through the layers of skin and then pulls it out and goes for another spot. She pulls tight and diligently continues. It’s all a little too much for me.
I never could stand the sight of needles either; probably the only reason I never got covered with tattoos like all of my friends. I stand and take a step back, shaking my head slowly to clear the drowsiness, but I can’t even feel my own body. My hands feel heavy and my head is like a lead weight. I collapse. I feel the darkness coming, like falling down a well in slow motion; I try desperately to claw my way back out of it. But you can't fight gravity can you? So down I go.
Relax
I feel like my eyes are only shut for a second but when I open them, the entire scene is changed. Faith is standing over me. Other men circle around us. I’m lying on the floor next to a cot. Faith is shouting and someone is shouting back at her. I can't bring anything into focus right away, though. It all seems so strange, so much like a dream. After all wouldn't it make more sense if this were just a dream?
“I said stay back!” Faith shouts. “No, you need to step back. He’s going to turn. When we take him down, we don't want to accidentally shoot you. Please step away from him.” It’s Mr. Petrova’s voice. I start trying to move.
“Shit, he is turning!” I hear one of the others say, most likely the young guy that put his shotgun against my chest.
“He is alive! Now step back! All of you! I mean it!” Faith shouts, pointing her shotgun at them.
“It’s okay Faith…” I say, but shallow like my voice is stolen. So I push harder, “Faith...Faith…” I beg the words to come out of me with some volume, “FAITH!” I finally shout. All of them stop moving. They just stare at me. Probably totally frightened of me, or more accurately what I will become. It is an ironic kind of fear. They have half a dozen guns pointed at me and I am lying on the ground, but they’re the ones who are afraid. Maybe Mr. Petrova was right about how cowards survive. I should have fit right in with his mentality. Before the man came through my window, I would have.
“He’s dying.” Someone says.
“Take him down before it’s too late.” Someone else says. “No, he just fainted.” Faith interjects. “I am…” I murmur again , standing up and trying just to breathe. For some reason it is so hard to breathe in here. “I am alive. it was just the needle and the blood.”
I hold my hands up as if they mean to arrest me. I step between Faith and the others standing right by the boy in the bed. I look at his face, probably for the first time, then without looking back, “Faith” I say. “I can't stay in here. I can't. I will faint again, and they’ll probably kill me.”
“Let’s just go then.” She demands.
“It’ll be okay; you help these people. I’ll be waiting right outside.” I say, trying to smile and reassure her.
“No, I won't let you out of my sight...I ...I can't”
“It’s okay. They won't kill me unless I turn, right Mr. Petrova?” I say, turning to the man of eternal calm. He lowers his gun. “We didn't know what was going to happen. We have seen so many people collapse and Zombies stand up, we just assumed…”
“You assumed what? You assumed that I’ m an idiot. I would not have moved him from his house if I thought he was sick, let alone dying.”
“It is kind of weird isn't it?” The young shotgunner says with a chuckle. “I mean, the way you were out front, I would think you eat this stuff for breakfast.” His gun comes down and the others follow. Faith lowers hers.
“Why don't you let me take the gun?” I offer her with my hands
held out. “I will wait right outside the door. Okay?” I give them a moment to consider the possibilities and add, “Now let’s get out of here and let this lady work.”
I motion to the door and start walking towards it. The two men closest to it step back and one of them opens it for me. I walk through and seeing a bench on the left, collapse onto it. I lean the gun against the wall next to me, bury my face in my hands and try to concentrate on breathing.
When Mr. Petrova comes through the door, he pulls it shut. He starts to walk away with the others, but stops and turns to me. “We appreciate you staying. You are doing the right thing, Dead Boy.”
“Maybe…maybe not , but with all the guns in here it certainly isn’t the cowardly thing is it?” I ask, looking up at him with intensity; I need him to know I am not afraid of him.
He doesn't reply. He turns and follows his men into the main foyer. I watch intently after him. Faith is in the next room for hours, but she looks out the door every once in a while at me. She smiles, but it is a hard smile. Then she is gone again. I wait for a while and eventually start to relax. I can’t blame these people. They’re scared, and frightened people are capable of terrible things. I am lucky Faith is with me. Otherwise, I would already be dead. A bite victim. Nothing more than collateral damage to Mr. Petrova and his men. A dweeb.
I look across the big room and see these people interacting with each other. They seem short and rude. They sit far ap
art and all watch others suspiciously.
Levi brings some food to me. It is just cheese, crackers and some Hi-C, but I ravenously wolf it down. I expect Levi to leave as soon as he hands me my food, but he doesn't. He sits down beside me and stares at me while I eat. Not rudely, more like he’s waiting to talk. “Levi, is there something on your mind?” I ask after I’m finished.
“Can I see it? Your wound I mean.” It is a fair enough request I suppose. I just hope it is healing as well as Faith thinks it is. I unwind the gauze from my arm and pull away a virtually clean pad. He looks closely at it. I think he even smells it.
“Awful red isn’t it?” Levi asks. Really, I can’t believe how good it looks. It looks horrible like Freddy Kruger’s face, but it is dry, and although red and twisted flesh, it looks healthy. “Yeah, pretty red.” I reply.
“I can see da bite marks. That was very deep. I’ve seen more’n my share o’ decomposition in human bodies over the years. It looks good ‘nough for me. I mean, not good, but healthy enough.” He smiles at me and then it quickly turns into a pinched strained frown that he seems to be fighting.
“Is there something else?” I ask while I wrap the gauze back around my arm. I am trying to hurry so Faith doesn’t pop her head out and want to have a look at it. Then she’ll probably want to take me back in that room and scour it some more.
“I want t’ come tell ya I’m sorry ‘bout what I did earlier.” He says. I look up and see tears in his eyes. “I jus’ don't understand this. If it’s God's punishment, why’m I here and they gone? I was’t wicked one, not dem. I know I jus’ look like an old man to you, but in my day I’s a tough case too.” He smiles at me. His tears keep coming.
“It's okay, Levi. I understand. We don't deserve this; probably none of us...but believe me. I don't know why I’m alive.” I say. “You’a good kid.” he says patting my back. He leans in. I think he is going to hug me. I open my arms and let him. I feel like I need this old man’s acceptance right now. He hugs me and holds on tight. When I pull back he doesn’t let go.
He grips even tighter so I try to wriggle free saying, “Levi, let go” very quietly. “Listen.” He whispers. “You can’t trust ‘em. Mr. Petrova and dem.” He says it so softly I can barely hear him. My eyes dart around the room and I see him –Mr. Calm- in a corner talking to some of the gunmen from downstairs. They are still carrying guns; probably always do. I see a girl –one of the gunmen- look over towards me. Then I hear a raised voice say “Jane, don't...” but the rest is too quiet and the girl looks away.
I look directly at Mr. Petrova and smile. He smiles back; well if a Cobra can smile then he’s smiling. Levi lets me go, smiles genuinely, stands and slowly makes his way to where the pretty Asian girl sits with the two young boys.
Faith finally comes out. She sits by me and puts an arm around me, sighing deeply, “How is the kid?” I ask her. Her mouth tightens and she whispers, “Fever…I don’t know. I searched his whole body for a bite but there wasn’t one. Maybe he got infected on whatever cut him. But…”
“You don’t know.” I finish for her.
“I gave him the last of our penicillin. I think we should just try to get some rest. It seems like days since we left your house.”
“You want to sleep? Here?” I ask, stunned. “We aren’t going out to look for a motel tonight.” She leans her head on my shoulder and shuts her eyes. I decide to stay awake for a while. I watch the people settling down. It’s pretty dark in here even though the power is on. The lights are just the kind for ambiance. I settle. Relax. It’s easy to drift off with Faith warming my side.
Chapter 4:Mr. Petrova Casey I open my eyes to the same room in pandemonium. People are moving everywhere and everything. The formerly hushed room is filled with a cacophony of sounds.
Faith is sitting up holding the shotgun in her lap, looking across the room. It takes a moment to find where exactly she is looking because people are moving pews and running in and out of the doors to the terrace and the main foyer with the big spiral staircase. Finally I realize what she is looking at is Mr. Petrova, that’s for certain.
He’ s surrounded by a group of people that include Levi, the Asian girl, and several of the other gunmen. They seem to be embroiled in a debate and Mr. Petrova keeps indicating in our direction, by pointing with his entire hand. “What is going on?” I ask Faith in a hushed voice.
“I don’t know. They woke me up too.” She whisper s back. It looks like they are stacking the pews to set up a barricade against us. They are taking the older people and children behind it and closing it off.
I am starting to think they have decided it is not worth the risk that or I’m already dead and I just don’t know it- when Levi starts walking toward us with some haste, “I think…” He starts half way to us, but lets the rest of the words die in his throat.
As he steps in front of us and starts to speak again, there is a loud thump on the door behind us to my right. Faith and I turn our heads. There is another loud bang on the door and it rattles on its hinges. “Think it’s best if ya’ll find someplace else t’ sit.” He finishes and starts to back away from the door.
There is a rattle and a crash and the door swings open behind me. I jump to my feet and look over at Faith. She is jumping up too and turning the shotgun towards the doors. My head turns, and I feel disconnected from the motion like I am outside of myself; watching. I see the line of gunman pulling their weapons up and aiming down the sights.
I scream, “Wait!” and swing around. My right arm is already flying before I have a target. My fingers are balled into a fist and I can feel the adrenaline pumping through me. I want to smash it. I want to kill it…with my bare hands. I line up on his head before recognition sets in. I realize who I am hitting just as my fist crushes into the flesh between his eyes right on the bridge of his nose. As he falls I hear my scream finishing.
I stand straight heaving and look at the boy’s body. I crushed his nose. Blood pours from his face. He does not move…he can’t. He’s dead. When I feel Faith’s soft touch on my shoulder, my nerves unravel and I slump down and puke on the floor.
The Asian girl pushes by me. “ Casey…” Is all that escapes her lips. Other people move in around me. Many are already sobbing and hiding their faces. The ones who aren’t are looking from Casey to me, wearing scowls filled with hatred. But no one says anything about what I did. In fact were they not all just drawn down on this same door as the child slammed himself against it?
I watch as more people move closer. Some just look and turn away, but others stay, and many still hold guns trained in my general direction. I’m certain they aren’t really meant for me this time, but it’s still unnerving. I can’t take it anymore and back away from them into the doorway that Casey burst through.
I hear a whimpering cry. It is not coming from the room in front of me, but the one beyond the smashed open doors. I turn into the dark room. The cots are all upset. There are two bodies on the floor and fresh red blood sprayed all over the place.
The crying is faint and muffled but I can tell where it is coming from. I can hear footsteps behind me. I turn to see that Faith follows with the shotgun in hand. I can also hear commotion in the viewing room, arguing. Faith flicks on the light switch. There is a gurney with a big spot of blood on its sheets upset in the corner. The crying’s coming from behind it.
I walk slowly to it and reach out pulling it away from the corner, then push it out of the way. There is a man behind it. He is balding but leaves a few strands on the side of his head long for a possible combover on better days. It does not have the halo effect that Levi’s hair does. He has black wire rimmed glasses lying on the floor beside him, and pudgy cheeks that are red and wet with tears.
The man is holding both hands to his neck. He is not an overly fat man but is thick in the middle and when I look down at him and he looks up at me with recognition. His crying intensifies and he starts to speak in a broken blubbery whiny voice, “Please…don’t kill
me. I feel fine. Really…I am not ready to die yet. Please…pl...please.”
Fix You Right Up
“Calm down,” I say crouching in front of him. “No one is going to…” “He bit me. I thought he wah…was in pain. I brought him wuh...water and he…he bit me. Please…don’t let them...kill me.” He starts panting as he squints up at me. I look beside him at his glasses. One of the lenses has a crack in it. I bend over and pick them up. He quivers when I reach for them and starts softly sobbing. Then he flinches as if I mean to punch him when I try to hand them back to him.
“These are yours aren’t they?” I ask. “Please…please don’t let them kill me,” he pants as he accepts the glasses and pushes them on his face shaking. They are somewhat crooked. I step back and offer him a hand which he eagerly takes and I pull him up.
Faith maneuvers around me, “Hello, I am a doctor. Can you remove your hand from your neck for just one second sir? That’s good. Can you kneel a bit? Thank you.” She sits the shotgun on the floor and opens the big green suitcase and starts rummaging through its contents. She stands again and turns to the man and puts a large white piece of gauze up to his throat and holds it there. “What is your name sir?” She asks.
“It’s Gah...Gary…Shultz. Gary Shultz.” “Okay Gary. Listen, no one is going to hurt you. Can you sit over here for me? Thank you.” She moves him to another unoccupied cot against the wall. He follows her with small steps and his arms up against his chest. For a large man, he has a very mousy look about him.
I bend down and shove some extra supplies that were spilling out, back into the suitcase. Mr. Petrova walks into the room. He strolls right up to Gary and paying no attention to Faith, steps between them. He asks, “What happened in here?”
