QUARANTINE ZONE: DO NOT ENTER WITHOUT PROTECTIVE CLOTHING
Matthew frowned. Someone had hastily crossed out the words “without protective clothing” with a black marker. He peeked through the thin, rectangular window, curious to see what went on in a quarantine room in a hospital. He had never seen one before.
A red hand smacked the glass from the other side the moment Matthew pressed his forehead to the window. He jumped back, letting out a sharp yelp—a sound that he had never made in his life.
Hearing this, Carl and Sergio rushed toward him.
“What’s wrong?” Carl breathed, his eyes wide with worry.
Matthew gulped and cleared his throat while he pointed at the door. Carl read the sign and rested his hands on the chained door before peering inside.
“Wow,” he muttered. “That’s grim.”
“What is?” Sergio asked.
“They’re all just packed in there,” Carl replied. He squinted, his mouth silently moving as he tried to get a headcount on the zombies locked behind the door. “There could be thirty or forty of them in there.”
By now, the lethargic zombies had begun to smell the human blood outside the door and were roused back into their typical erratic movements. But they did seem particularly gaunt and feeble.
“That might actually be the worst way to go,” Carl said softly as he watched the bodies bounce off each other as they jostled for position near the door. They groped blindly in the direction of the humans in hopes of getting a bite to eat.
Matthew nodded in agreement. He couldn’t imagine being locked in a room with a bunch of other scared, sick individuals. When the disease first struck, no one had any idea what was going on. The diseased got very sick, very quickly, and no one knew how to treat them. He figured that this hospital understood how quickly the sickness could be spread and how devastating the results could be. So, in order to minimize destruction, they shoved anyone with the trademark symptoms into the quarantine room to wait it out.
It was obviously a death sentence to anyone with any kind of injuries from an assault. That, and anyone with a fever, chills, aches, and nausea could also be seen as dangerous. He hoped that no one with the flu came into the hospital at the wrong time. Otherwise, they would have received an unfair sentence.
Also, he couldn’t imagine being a relative of someone who was admitted to the quarantine ward. It would be absolutely devastating to arrive at the hospital to check up on a loved one, only to find out that they’re locked in a room with thirty other dangerous people. Plus, there was nothing they could do about it besides wait for their family member to turn. Just the thought of it made Matthew shudder.
“Did you guys see the chain on the inside?” Sergio asked.
Matthew took a closer look. Sure enough, extra measures were in place to make sure the door wouldn’t bust open.
“They must have known,” Matthew said softly. “Someone went in there, knowing full well that they wouldn’t come out alive. They knew that they would be a danger to others.”
Carl sighed. “That’s heavy stuff.”
Sergio shrugged. “Maybe those were the healthy people. Maybe all the survivors locked themselves inside in hopes that they could ride it out.”
Carl frowned. “Then how do you explain the chain on the outside of the door?”
Sergio traced a finger along the chain. “My guess is that someone saw what happened to them and wanted to make sure they could never get out. It would only take one person to completely contaminate a room, especially if they struggled to get out. I’m guessing that no one in here has eaten human flesh yet. Look how puny they are compared to some of the others.”
“Let’s hope they die out soon,” Carl said. “Maybe other people had the foresight to do what they did.”
Matthew took another look inside the room. By now, all the zombies were pressed up against the wall nearest to the door. The groaning was getting louder by the minute as they jostled for position. One even started knocking its head against the door, which made Matthew nervous.
“I think we’ve lingered out here for a little too long,” Matthew said, gesturing toward the increasingly agitated zombies. “Do you think they can get out?”
Sergio shrugged. “They seem to be in there pretty securely, but I’ve seen stranger things happen. I think I saw a sign for the lab over that way.”
He nudged his head to the right while keeping his eyes locked on the room full of hungry zombies.
Down the next dim corridor, the three found a lost zombie that hadn’t followed the others down the stairs at the sound of the gunshot. Carl quickly surged away, his knife ready to go. He gave it one clean jab in the eye socket before pushing his boot into its chest to dislodge the blade from the ocular cavity. It flew backward, knocking a door open. Carl stomped on the body for good measure before realizing that the zombie had let them into the hospital’s laboratory.
“Sweet,” Sergio breathed. “I think we’re exactly where we need to be. Do you still have the list?”
Matthew let out a sigh of relief. The laboratory was much larger than he imagined it would be. He had seen a few hospital labs in the past, and he didn’t think they would have all the things Ellie had asked for. He still wasn’t entirely sure what everything was on the list, but he would do his damndest to be thorough.
“Four or more beakers of various sizes,” Matthew read out loud. “I feel like I’m in science class again.”
Carl searched the shelves of glassware before carefully pulling out the items. He yanked paper towels from the dispenser and placed them inside each beaker before stacking the next one inside.
“Two racks full of test tubes,” Matthew called. “A small centrifuge, if you can find one.”
“What the hell is that?” Sergio asked.
“No clue,” Matthew asked. “We’ll skip that one. If it was important, she would have explained it better.”
Sergio found the test tubes but managed to drop two of them on his way to the lab bench. He swept the shards of glass to the side with his boot and replaced the broken items.
“Pipettes,” Matthew said, drawing a blank.
Carl furrowed his brow, deep in thought. “Those are like eye droppers, right?”
“Your guess is as good as mine.”
Matthew carefully packed a microscope and a box of glass slides into his backpack, padding the machine with wads of paper towels. In the meantime, Carl scoured the shelves for the different acids and solvents that Ellie had requested. He managed to find a few, cautiously pouring them into bottles that would stay sealed for the rest of their journey.
“I found this,” Sergio said excitedly, holding up a thin black rectangle.
“What is it?” Matthew asked, squinting to get a better look. “Is that a centrifuge?”
“No, it’s a solar charger.” He laughed. “It’s small so it wouldn’t power much more than a lamp, but it’s something.”
“Nice.” Matthew smiled. “We can put it on the roof of the office. It’s only a matter of time before the generator at the office blows. Good find.”
Matthew was starting to have some fun poring through the laboratory. It was almost like a scavenger hunt. With so many zombies cleared from the building, he finally felt like they could relax. They took their time as they went through the list, making sure they were as thorough as possible. After all, Matthew had bought them a little time with his earlier rampage.
Sergio sprinkled a few handfuls of fresh syringes into his backpack before cinching it tight. He threw it over his back and helped Carl stuff graduated cylinders into his pack.
“This was easier than I thought,” Carl mused. “I was worried that it was going to be a waste of time to come to a hospital, but we got almost everything on Ellie’s list, and then some. Is there anything else we’re still looking for?”
“I think we’ve got it covered,” Matthew said, stuffing a few more crumpled paper towels into his bag in fear that the microscope would break
before he could deliver it to Ellie and Genevieve.
“Did I forget a bottle of acid?” Carl asked, reaching for a specimen jar full of a pale liquid.
Sergio began laughing maniacally. It took Carl all of five seconds to figure out what his friend had done.
“You can take it with you if you want, but it’s probably not going to do much for research purposes,” he laughed.
“Seriously?” Carl asked, nudging the canister with a test tube.
“I had to go,” he said defensively. “Let’s get out of here before I have to provide another specimen.”
Matthew chuckled. At the end of the day, being with Carl and Sergio was just like being back in the military. As tough as the men and women were when it was time to work, they joked around like children in their downtime.
Weapons in hand, the trio retreated back down the way they came. They walked down the hall without any incident. But they couldn’t ignore the fact that there was a horrible ruckus coming from somewhere on the third floor. It made the hairs on the back of Matthew’s neck stand straight up. Along with the deep growling were intermittent shrieks that chilled Matthew to the bone.
“Was that—” Carl started to ask. Matthew understood immediately and jogged toward the quarantine room.
The door was rattling and threatening to come completely off the hinges. The chains clanged against the door handle, the links threatening to pull the hardware from the door at any moment.
Matthew took a quick glance into the window and saw that the zombies had become organized in their escape attempt. The strongest of the bunch had made their way to the front and were ramming the door in unison.
“Dude, this door is going to blow,” Sergio exclaimed.
“There’s got to be something around here that we can put in front of the door,” Matthew said, frantically searching the nurses’ station.
It would be such a waste of life for the zombies to escape. At least one person risked their life to ensure that they stayed trapped until they succumbed to their illness naturally. Besides, the last twenty minutes had gone so smoothly. He just wanted to get back to the truck without incident.
He found a stool in a nearby exam room and shoved it against the door handle. It would maybe keep them inside if they were planning on using the handle to evacuate, but it would do little to stop them if they blasted the door down. Sergio grabbed a gurney and tipped it over, resting the padded part against the doorway. Though they tried, it seemed futile. They needed heavy furniture to make a useful barricade.
“Come on,” Carl said. “It’s pointless. Let’s just get out of here.”
Matthew knew that the zombies wouldn’t stay in the room for the rest of their pathetic existence, but he still didn’t want to give up on keeping them contained. He ran back to a room and found a chair to prop between the overturned bed and the wall, in hopes that it would prevent the door from leaving its frame in the event that the zombies were able to break through.
In the end, there was little that could stop such a large group of monsters from their prey. With a horrible splintering crash, the door tore from its hinges, leaving a sliver of space for them to exit through.
“Run!” Carl screamed. The three took off down the hall and sped down the stairs. Tripping over fallen bodies, they scrambled to get back to the Jeep. He knew that looking back would only slow him down, but Matthew couldn’t help himself. He turned his neck ever so slightly to find the creatures frantically pulling themselves out of the hastily hewn barricade. The zombies were starving, and nothing was more important than getting ahold of the humans who sprinted away, their scent so tantalizing.
7
“They’re coming,” Matthew panted as they flew down the stairs. He didn’t even need to look behind him—he could hear each and every foot pounding on the tile floor behind them. He could smell their rotten breath in the air, stale from lack of nourishment. He could almost hear the desperation for flesh in their screeches.
Matthew didn’t know what was worse—the strong zombies who were fully nourished with human flesh or the weak ones that had yet to have a meal. The strong ones were frighteningly fast and had the ability to fight was well as the soldiers did, but the weak ones were hungrier. That made a difference.
Even the zombies seemed to have a strong sense of self-preservation. It must have been the animalistic instinct in them, creating the will to survive. And, as Darwin had observed, the ones that managed to make their kills went on to outlast the others.
After clearing one set of stairs, Matthew wrenched the propped door shut as they continued moving. Seconds later, he heard the sound of impact, then splintering wood. He knew it wouldn’t hold—he didn’t know of anything that could hold the zombies back at this point, save for powerful weapons. Even then, the warning of gunfire did nothing but encourage them.
When they returned to the main floor where the battle had begun, Matthew found that the carnage that covered the tiles was far worse than he remembered. A few centimeters of blood coated the floor, having nowhere to disperse when dead zombies acted as dams.
Before the three could even navigate the pool of gore, the zombies had broken free, climbing over one another to get to their prize. Matthew let out a groan of desperation and frustration. They were in trouble.
Now, Matthew cursed whoever it was who’d decided to lock so many vulnerable people in such a small room. It was like a mine, just waiting for some poor soul to set it off. In the end, it didn’t keep them safe. It just made it harder to fight them once the defenses wore off.
Sergio took one stride into the mess and immediately skidded on his heels so hard that he had to grab onto the counter of the nurse’s station. If he hadn’t had anything to keep him upright, he would have bathed in the blood of Matthew’s victims.
Matthew carefully waded behind him, the soles of his feet sticking with every step. He felt like he was walking through mud, the way his shoes squelched with every stride.
During his final week of military training, Matthew and about a hundred other soldiers had to go through a rigorous training exercise to prepare them for the worst of the worst. It was designed to test the soldiers’ limits, both physically and mentally. They’d spent days crawling through mud and climbing obstacles, all while carrying packs that were about as heavy as their own body weight. They were thrown into simulators where they had to clear an area while it felt as though they were being shot at. They even had to withstand being pepper sprayed and shocked with a taser. They were hungry, exhausted, and broken down from training by the end of the week.
At the time, Matthew couldn’t imagine being in a worse situation. On their way back to their respective homes, the soldiers talked about how horrible that week was and how happy they were to be done with training. Often times, they repeated the sentiment that they would never have to endure something so strenuous or physically challenging ever again.
For the most part, they were right about that. Matthew could count the times on one hand that he’d had to travel long distances carrying something heavy. He rarely had to climb anything, let alone crawl through muck. A few times, he’d had to drag injured people out of destroyed buildings, but there was so much adrenaline flowing through his veins that he hardly noticed how hard he was working. He never ran more than a quarter-mile before he was given transportation back to his base.
While his physical training made him a stronger and tougher person, he wasn’t prepared for some things that went along with living in dangerous territory. No one taught him what to do when someone in his platoon was killed. He wasn’t instructed on how to act when he thought his superior officers were making a mistake. No one told him how to handle being away from home for so long at such a young age.
But Matthew knew how to dig a trench and shoot a gun. He even knew how to escape quicksand. That was perhaps the most applicable thing to his current situation. He nearly laughed to himself, thinking about how his drill sergeants would react if he asked them if they w
ere going to learn how to run away from attackers through a pool of blood. He would get screamed at for being a smartass until he went deaf.
They were so close to the entrance of the hospital, yet so were the zombies. They seemed to have no problem getting through the mess. If they stumbled over an obstacle, then they crawled on hands and knees or even slid across the floor on their bellies. They were gaining on the soldiers at an alarming rate. Matthew feared they wouldn’t make it out alive.
Just when a gnarled hand reached out for Matthew, he heard two shots fire just past his ear. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Carl holding the gun that was only used for emergencies. Backpedaling now so he could be ready to fight if the zombies got too close, he watched as the creatures dodged the offensive. Their bodies were so slight, yet so quick that they were a difficult target to hit. They moved so erratically and unpredictably that Carl struggled to pin them down.
Finally, a few came crashing to the ground just as they were about to latch onto the soldiers. Carl kept firing whenever he had a good shot in an attempt to keep the zombies from getting close enough to bite.
But this attempt was futile. There were too many to shoot and not enough time to aim at each one. With a limited amount of time and ammo, it would be impossible to defend themselves with guns alone.
“Just run,” Sergio shouted over the groans as he hurled a chair into the mass. “Get to the car.”
The three took off running, faster than they had ever needed to run. Zombies kept grasping at Matthew’s legs, tripping him up whenever he thought he was finally getting somewhere. He felt cold fingers graze his skin, causing his stomach to lurch.
Suddenly, he caught a whiff of fresh air and knew that he was so close to the outside. He kept pushing forward until the parking lot came into view.
Last Man Standing (Book 2): Zombie Annihilation Page 5
