“Hey, that’s us!” a teenage boy said from the front of the room. “Do you think we’ll be on television?”
“No, doofus,” a girl near him said. “They can’t get in here, and they don’t have a camera you can’t break with that face.”
“Stop it!” Nurse Wilder said. “Do you want to go back to your rooms?”
The screen darkened. The shot framed a blond woman inside a vehicle with the windshield behind her.
“Are we on?” the flustered reporter asked. “Oh, I’m Jill Spencer, and I’m coming to you live from in front of Saint Vincent’s Hospital where riots have broken out between the living and the dead. We’re set up inside the van because it’s not safe on the street. Billy was dragged into the street as we were setting up.”
The camera panned to the empty driver’s seat before moving to the view through the windshield. One of the hospital’s front doors had been smashed. Shards of glass glittered on the pavement. The other sliding door hung sideways from its runners. Figures shambled toward the van and the crew that hid inside it. Hands slapped at the glass. Dead faces leered at the camera. Jill Spencer hopped the console and bounced into the empty driver’s seat. She threw up her hands after reaching for the ignition.
“Billy must still have the key,” she shouted.
The picture rolled from side to side as the van began to shake. More bodies crowded around the vehicle. A quick shift of perspective and we were looking at the dark floor. Shoes passed in front of the lens.
“What are you doing?”
“Trying to hotwire this thing,” the cameraman said. “It doesn’t look so hard on TV.”
I glanced around the room. Each gaze was focused on the screen. Some people chewed on already bloody fingernails. I sniffed again and caught a whiff of a rusted frying pan. Maybe I craved bacon. Grabbing the backs of my arms, I squeezed. The jellied masses of flesh squashed under my clothes. I would not fall victim to a binge.
Screams erupted from the non-muted television. The picture on the other showed a tumbling view of the inside of the van before returning us to the newsroom. The woman who had taken over for Joe sat watching live feed monitor.
Someone whispered, “You’re on.”
The woman stared at the screen for another moment before turning her face to the lens. Her jaw dropped open, but no words emerged. Someone yelled for a station break. The picture went from the silent, distraught woman to colored lines and a screeching beep. No one moved. The television continued to blare. Finally, the teenage boy stood and switched off the noise. Stuffing his hands in his pockets, he shuffled to Nurse Wilder.
“I need my meds,” he mumbled.
Turning on her heel, the woman strode out of the room. When she returned, she carried a tray of white paper cups. She distributed them to the few patients gathered in the room before stepping back into the hall. I guessed she was going to medicate the rest of the ward.
“All right, everyone,” the doctor said. “Back to your rooms. If there’s any more news, we’ll keep you informed. For now, we’re safe. There’s nothing to worry about.”
The patients scattered. Their faces pinched in disbelief. I stayed in the corner shadow. The uneaten food was in my room. I didn’t want the temptation.
“What do we do?” a nurse in pink scrubs said.
“Jen,” the doctor said. “We just wait. Someone’s bound to come for us. Things just have to die down out there.”
“Did you have to say die?” Jen said.
“You know what I mean.” The doctor ran a hand through his hair. “We have to keep the crazies in here from freaking out. I think Linda had the right idea to go for their meds.”
“Should we give them all sedatives until help comes?” Jen clasped her hands in front of her. “It would make them easier to subdue.”
The man shook his head. “If help does come, how would you explain having to carry out able-bodied patients? I’d rather not have that paperwork on my desk.”
“When do you think help will come?”
He shrugged. Looking out the window, he let out a low whistle.
“I don’t think it’ll be here anytime soon.” Grabbing the nurse’s hand, he added, “Let’s go check on supplies.”
When they’d gone, I stood and walked the outer edge of the room. The hunger returned. I needed to eat, or I was going to scream. I couldn’t hold it off any longer. The scent of food filled my nostrils, but I couldn’t find it. I felt in the couch cushions and upended tables. Sifting through the bins of craft supplies, I found half a candy bar. I peeled off the wrapper and sniffed the chalky chocolate. The tidbit had been in the box for an uncertain number of days. I touched the tip of my tongue to the hardened nougat and tossed the candy across the room. I hadn’t had chocolate in some time, but I knew it wasn’t supposed to taste like a locker room. Terrible bile filled my throat. I dragged my sleeve across my tongue trying to dislodge the horrible aftertaste. I had to find something to eat.
“Susana, what’s wrong with you?” Nurse Wilder said.
I was on my hands and knees reaching under a table. Jerking at the sound of her voice, I slammed my head into the tabletop.
“Get out from under there.” She pulled me out by my ankle. “What are you doing?”
“I’m hungry,” I said and cleared my throat.
“You’re what?” The nurse took a step away from me and placed her hand on her chest. “Did I hear you say that you’re hungry?”
I nodded and glanced down at my fingertips. I rubbed them together in anticipation.
“What would you like?” She hugged me before holding me at arms length. “Well, c’mon. Tell me what you’d like to eat.”
I lifted my shoulders and dropped them.
“I don’t know. I smell something good, but I can’t find out where it’s coming from. Maybe bacon?”
Putting an arm around me, she led me toward the nurse’s private lounge.
“I don’t know if we can find any bacon, but you can have anything we find in the fridge.”
By the time we made it to the icebox, I was gnawing on my knuckles.
“Do you mind if I ask you a question?” Nurse Wilder asked as she opened the refrigerator door.
I shook my head and reached for a box of Chinese food. Opening the lid, I sniffed and tossed the box to the floor. The contents smelled rotten.
“Hey, I brought that in this morning,” the nurse said picking up the box. “Why are you hungry all of a sudden?”
“I don’t know. I just am.”
I opened a cup of yogurt and dipped in a finger. After licking off the white goop, I spit it onto the gold-flecked floor tiles. Usually, I liked pineapple, but this brand was heinous. A paper bag peeked from behind a pitcher of juice. I ripped it open, and a sandwich bag fell into my hand. The plastic tore in my teeth, and I stuffed the tuna fish laden bread into my mouth. Pieces of slime-covered lunch flew from my jaws. I dropped the rest into the pile of discards beside me. The milk smelled disgusting. The carton exploded when I tossed it into the wall.
“Susana! Stop!” Nurse Wilder pinned my arms behind me and pulled me into a chair. “I’ll find something for you to eat. You don’t need to ruin the food for the rest of us.”
I thrashed my head back and forth as she held my arms. The craving was driving me mad. I had to eat. My stomach twisted. I didn’t care if the zombies had risen and were eating the living. I was jealous. They knew what they wanted. I hadn’t had a good meal in so long, I had forgotten what tasted good. So far, the answer was nothing.
“A little help here,” Nurse Wilder shouted.
The supply closet door opened, and the doctor stepped into the room tucking his shirt into his pants. The door slammed behind him, and I heard someone mumble through the wall.
“Linda, what’s wrong?”
“Stan, can you hold her while I find her something to eat? She’s wrecking havoc with the fridge.”
His large hands closed around my arms. The heat from them ma
de me think of grilling burgers in the summer when I was younger. Before all the dieting started, back when I was normal, my dad would squeeze too much lighter fluid on a pile of charcoal. He’d throw the match, and a ball of fire would explode into the summer heat. Once the inferno calmed, I’d stare across the top of the grill and watch the hazy heat dance. The burgers sizzled on the grill and dripped globs of greasy fat onto the glowing briquettes. Sometimes, I’d ask for cheese, but usually, I’d just have it plain with a little bit of ketchup.
“I want a hamburger,” I said through gritted teeth.
“What?” Nurse Wilder said. She turned from cleaning up my mess to stare at me.
“I want a burger. That’s what I smell, meat.”
“Can you behave if Doctor Nelson lets you go?”
I nodded once and felt his grip release. The nurse opened the freezer compartment and found a box of WhiteCastle burgers and tore one from its plastic wrapper. Opening the microwave, she placed the patty on a paper plate and let it cook.
“You might want to let it cool before you eat it,” she said when the microwave dinged.
I snatched it from the plate and crammed the whole thing into my mouth. After chewing it twice, I coughed it onto a table and moaned.
“Nothing tastes good. I’m hungry, but I can’t eat anything.” I dropped my head onto the tabletop and howled.
“Ouch!” someone said from inside the supply closet.
Nurse Wilder opened the door and Nurse Metzer slunk into the light holding a hand over her forearm.
“What, may I ask, were you doing in there, Jen?” Nurse Wilder asked.
“Cutting myself on something.” She pulled her hand from her arm. Red blood dripped from a deep gash into a puddle.
My stomach lurched. The blood smelled delicious. I leapt from the table and staggered toward the aroma. Nurse Metzer had a moment to look confused before I was noshing on her flesh. Turning my head with my mouth full of meat, I looked back at the others. I didn’t think I’d be hungry for a while.
Anticipating Death
By Pembroke Sinclair
“Nine-one-one, what is the nature of your emergency?’
Dillon winced at the pain, taking a deep breath. “Yeah,” he strained, “I called about thirty minutes ago looking for an ambulance.”
“Okay, sir. Can I get your name?”
“I gave you my name thirty minutes ago! All I want to know is if the ambulance is going to pick me up.”
“Sir, I’m sorry, but we are experiencing a higher than normal amount of calls right now. If your emergency is life threatening, we will definitely get someone to you as soon as we can. Do you think you are going to die soon from your condition?”
“It feels like I am.”
“Well, feeling like you are going to and actually facing death’s door are two different things.”
“No, I don’t think I’m going to die, but what if I do? What if while I’m waiting for all those other people to be taken care of, I croak?”
“Then we’ll send the coroner.”
“Is he going to the hospital? Can you send him now?”
A click resounded and Dillon was met with silence. Cursing under his breath, he dialed another number.
“Hello?”
“Jenny.” His voice came out weak and tears burned his eyes. “It’s Dillon.”
“Dillon? Are you all right? You don’t sound good.”
He took in a ragged breath. “No, I’m not all right. I’m in a lot of pain. Can you take me to the hospital?”
“Sure. No problem. I’ll be right there.”
Dillon sat with his knees to his chest, gritting his teeth at every bump they went over. Jenny was silent next to him, her eyes focused on the road, her knuckles white, as she tried to get to the hospital quickly but also tried to avoid getting pulled over. Dillon stared out the window. For everyone else, it seemed to be a normal day. The sun was shining, people were walking their dogs or heading to work, phones to their ears and briefcases in their hands. Dillon was jealous. They all seemed so pain free.
As they pulled into the circular drive in front of the hospital, Dillon felt his heart sink. Five ambulances were lined up. The crew of three of them were just pulling the stretchers out of the back. On a normal day, he could expect a three-hour wait, but now, he was going to be lucky if they even looked at him. He didn’t know exactly what was wrong with the other patients, but he could see blood soaking through the sheets on two of them. He knew they were a higher priority than a stomach ache, but he didn’t have any other choice. The pain was unbearable. He knew it was something serious. He couldn’t wait it out at home.
Jenny threw the car into park.
“Wait here, I’ll see if I can find a wheelchair.”
She climbed out of the car and headed toward the building. Dillon watched her until she disappeared inside. Leaning his head against the window, he tried to think of anything but the pain. Sirens wailed through the air, and he looked up to see the two empty ambulances racing away from the hospital. Great, he thought, this is just great. He noticed Jenny making her way back with a wheelchair, and he opened his door.
The waiting room was in chaos. Nurses and doctors rushed from one individual to another. The twinge of alcohol burned his nose and intermingled with the coppery stench of blood. Moans filled the air, along with crying. Dillon wondered if maybe he shouldn’t just go back home, take a handful of Advil and pray, when a wave of pain rippled across his midsection. He doubled over. If nothing else, they should be able to give him medication.
Jenny wheeled him up to the admittance desk. The nurse looked them up and down.
“What is your emergency?” Her eyes had black circles under them, and her blond hair was falling out of the ponytail. Her scrubs were wrinkled and stained.
“I’ve got intense abdominal pains.”
The nurse scowled as she grabbed a clipboard. “Fill this out. We’ll get to you as soon as possible.”
“Not to be rude,” Dillon said as he grabbed the paperwork, “but do you have any idea of how long that will be? I mean, I waited for over half an hour for the ambulance, and they never came.”
The nurse huffed. “I’m sorry, sir. As you can obviously see, we’re more than a little busy.”
“What happened?”
“There was an explosion at Star Labs.”
“How did it happen?” Dillon could hear the awe in Jenny’s voice.
The nurse huffed again, standing from her seat. “I don’t know. All I know is this has to be taken care of.” She gestured to the waiting room.
Another nurse walked up behind her, and they began conversing about IVs and blood transfusions. Jenny steered Dillon to a corner of the room and took the clipboard from him, filling in the necessary information while Dillon sat doubled over.
An hour passed, and Dillon wondered why he wasn’t leaving. More people on stretchers were brought into the room, and the reek of alcohol and blood was replaced with the smell of feces and decay. He was just about to tell Jenny he wanted to leave when the nurse from behind the counter approached.
“Okay, Dillon,” she glanced at the chart, “I don’t think we’re going to be able to do much for you, but we’ll do our best. I’m going to get you started on an IV, give you some Fentanyl. That should help until we can run some tests.” She moved behind him and wheeled him to the elevator. They went up two floors, then she took him to a room down the hall. “We don’t have any more space in the ER, so we’re going to place you with Mr. James here.”
Dillon looked over at the man on the bed. He was hooked up to an aspirator and heart monitor, with various other tubes running through his arms. He didn’t react when they entered, so Dillon figured he was in a coma. The nurse pulled a hanger with an IV bag close and knelt down. With a quickness and precision that shocked him, she inserted the needle and got the saline flowing. After taping down the tubing, she hung a smaller bag on the hook and inserted the tube.
“This
is a Fentanyl drip. You should be feeling pretty good in a little while.”
The sounds of crashing and someone screaming resounded through the door, and the nurse turned and left without saying another word. Dillon stared at Jenny, then they both glanced at Mr. James.
“You know they stuck you in here and are going to forget about you.” Jenny turned back to face him.
“I know. But at least they gave me something for the pain.” The medication started to take effect, and the burning, cramping sensation in his stomach eased. “You don’t have to stay and wait if you don’t want to.”
Jenny walked across the room and took a seat. “I know.” She began picking at her nails.
“Thank you for bringing me.”
She clicked her tongue and set her hands in her lap. “What else was I going to do? You sounded so miserable.”
Dillon averted his gaze to his lap, his leg swaying back and forth. “I just figured after what happened, you wouldn’t want to see me again.” He glanced at her without lifting his head.
She took a deep breath and leaned forward in her chair. “Maybe after I find out you’re all right, I’ll leave and never look back.”
Dillon smiled, though it was difficult for him to pull up the corners of his mouth. The medication was taking full effect. His tongue was thick, and he couldn’t feel his toes. His eyes were getting heavy, but most importantly, he couldn’t feel the torment in his stomach. He leaned his head against the back of the wheelchair.
He stared at Jenny through slitted eyes. Her brown hair looked stringy, like she hadn’t washed it in a few days, and her eyes were red-rimmed. She had on her pink tank top and gray sweats. He figured she was sitting in what used to be their apartment, pining. It had only been two days since the breakup, and that was when the pain started. At first, Dillon assumed it was guilt, his body rebelling against him for being such an idiot. Part of it probably was, but when it didn’t get better, he knew there was something more serious involved.
Jenny adjusted in her seat, and her eyes scanned the room. They locked with his. She smiled, and the light caught them just right, causing them to sparkle. Dillon’s stomach fluttered. How could he have been so stupid? How could he hurt her like that? He vowed that if given a second chance, he would do everything in his power to be there for her, to make sure she was safe.
CODE Z: An Undead Hospital Anthology Page 6
