The motorists had the same lifeless stricken face as the nurses eating the child. Charlie stumbled through the hospital entrance.
‘Get in the elevator,’ Charlie shouted.
Harry spotted the beasts in the car park and grabbed Sheila’s hand, yanking her from the desk and across the room to the elevator. Sheila tripped as Harry pulled her. Charlie pushed the elevator call button.
‘Hurry,’ Harry screamed. The hoard of pus and blood riddled monsters shambled through the hospital doors smashing the glass. The elevator was taking forever, Harry saw the stairs to the left of them, beginning his run towards them.
Charlie pushed Harry to mount the staircase first and his ribs ached from the wrench attack. The heat made him nauseas. Sheila let go of Harry’s hand as they ran up the stairs.
Harry saw a sign on the staircase reading first floor to palliative care.
Soon they reached the first floor and skidded across the gleaming speckled hallway. Charlie ran to the nearest door and booted it open. The lifeless crowd still pursued, Harry could hear the determined groans, like the staff upstairs. Nobody was around, the ward was empty and cold from the breeze coming through an open window further down.
‘Quick get in!’ Charlie held the door handle as Sheila and Harry darted in. Charlie’s face pale and beading with sweat.
Charlie pulled the wood door shut. The pursuing crowd were not stupid, they shambled onto the first floor until reaching the room and scratched at the door.
The nail scraping was deadly unnerving, claws and shuffles with no breath from the monsters.
‘Where is that idiot Peter?’ Charlie grabbed Sheila by the shoulders. She slapped his pale soaked face and he shunted her to the stone wall.
Harry investigated the dim storage room; one long light lit the room. It was clinical, clean and smelt of plastic as expected for a hospital. Dust accumulated around the corners of the room. Brown boxes with white labels stating ward names were stacked against the right wall.
Harry opened the top box. He shivered as he looked inside. It was red sacs of blood. If the monsters outside were like the staff upstairs they would want blood, just as the staff wanted the child’s flesh.
‘I didn’t want to get locked in a storage room.’ Sheila got in Charlies face and he stumbled onto the boxes near the door. Charlie gasped and clenched his chest. Harry saw and felt a wave of dread. A repeat of the fat man’s fate.
‘I can’t breathe!’ Charlie gasped making his face sag. Harry returned to looking in the box of blood donations. Sheila concerned knelt at Charlie’s side.
‘Breathe,’ she said. ‘It will pass, it’s just exhaustion.’ Sheila thumbed his neck. Harry felt no emotions other than fear for his son and wife’s whereabouts. He remembered at work having to check someone’s pulse after they downed a few cappuccinos in one hour. He was confident Charlie was just unfit. Charlie was probably coming close to forty or fifty.
‘I…I can’t…breathe.’ Charlie managed to gasp. Sheila looked around, there was a water fountain at the rear of the room. The room was small, perhaps ten feet long at most.
‘Harry,’ she called. Harry had pulled out two sacks of blood, feeling the weight in his hands.
‘Yes,’ he said. Harry’s zoned-out face zombified.
‘Water quickly, Sheila said. Harry dropped the bags into the box.
The plastic cups towered above the fountain, Harry grabbed a cup and thumbed the blue lever and out came some cloudy water, aging and unchanged. The cup filled and he returned across to Charlie. Charlie’s eyes were sunken and his mouth gaping like a fish out of water.
‘On his face, he can’t drink it,’ Sheila commanded Harry. Harry threw the cup of water at Charlie’s face. Charlie jumped to his feet. Harry tossed the cup on the floor and returned to the stack of boxes on the left, a big red cross over the stickers which read: surgery.
‘Feeling better?’ Sheila asked. Charlie began breathing normally again.
‘Okay,’ Charlie said. ‘Get me more.’ Charlie leant against the wall next to the door, the scratches continued.
Sheila went to get some more water.
The groans and clawing were annoying, becoming more prominent. It seemed the crowd were enraged because they couldn’t perform a simple task like opening a door.
The blood bags had significance not for patients, but Harry. A potential distraction if they indeed craved blood. Harry squeezed the blood bags and placed them onto a brown box. Rummaging through more boxes, Harry pulled out two more blood bags that were coagulated like ice cream. Harry was pale and gagged.
The lights shimmered, Harry’s head piercing. He held a blood bag to his forehead. The cool bags soothed his brow. Another problem in a terrible day. This must have been Harry’s punishment for choosing Sheila over his family or choosing the city over the town.
‘I wanted to move,’ Harry said, his thoughts coming aloud. Sheila couldn’t hear him, she would say something if she did, sometimes she was overbearing. He shook his negativity to positivity hoping the moral of being stuck in the dimly lit room would improve. ‘Right.’
Harry threw the blood bags to the floor and the bags jiggled, sliding across to the door. Harry pulled out the normal uncoagulated blood bags from the stack of boxes behind him, gripping the bags with the hope that they would distract the beasts. He walked to Sheila.
‘These will help,’ Harry said. ‘I’m sure of it.’
Charlie looked confused. ‘Hold on,’ Charlie said. ‘I’m not bleeding out.’ Sheila giggled to Harry’s dismay, the laugh was painful and made his headache worse.
‘No, this isn’t for you,’ Harry explained. ‘These bags will distract those people, monsters, from attacking us.’
‘Genius.’ Harry ignored Sheila’s snarky remark. The plan energised Charlie and he crushed the plastic Sippy cup and tossed it to the floor.
‘What makes you think they want blood?’ Charlie questioned Harry. Harry didn’t have the motivation to answer questions. He just knew that somehow, this would work. It was like being born recognising your parents. Harry instinctually recognised the answer was the blood bags. Albeit it had laid dormant through his life. Harry felt confident in his plan.
‘Think about it, those k... people upstairs, they were soaked with it.’ Harry avoided describing the victim as a child, the staff eating the child continued to weigh heavily upon his mind.
‘Yeah well fuck it if it doesn’t work. I can’t stay in this room any longer with the buzzing lights, I’d rather stick my head in a beehive.’ Charlie hit the nail on the head. None of them wanted to be cramped up in a storage room. Harry just needed to find James and Molly. Surviving was essential.
‘Damn right and we need to find that injured doctor to, he needs our help.’ Sheila trying to sound concerned came out condescending.
‘Honestly, he’s a doctor and he has the skills to save himself,’ Harry said, realising the doctor wasn’t the priority anymore but their lives were. ‘It can’t be about other people now, not when we are stuck in a room that smells like copper.’ Harry flicked his eyes, not to woo Sheila but to convince the determined broad to side with him. Sheila was a force to be reckoned with when she made a decision.
‘What happened to being human?’ Sheila said. ‘That man can’t call for help, he’s locked in a room just like us. How can you expect him to help himself?’ The room was too silent. The awkwardness faded. The shuffling corpses outside the door had stopped amidst the heated discussion. As if the hoard of corpses had listened to the drama.
‘I don’t know,’ Charlie said. ‘He might have answers.’ Sheila’s looked to Charlie with surprise. Harry supposed Charlie was rattled from nearly having a heart attack. Death had rattled his unfit cage.
‘Fine,’ Harry grunted. ‘But we can’t be running around. It’s obvious that the hospital has been evacuated. I say we get the doctor then make for the roof.’ Harry wanted to leave the building, but he also wanted answers. ‘There might be a window cleanin
g lift we can escape to ground level with.’ Harry glared around the musky storage room. It felt supernatural, unreal.
‘So, what’s the plan?’ Charlie asked. Charlie used Sheila’s shoulders as a crutch. She wobbled as Charlie latched his capable hands onto her white office shirt. Charlie appeared intimidating as he did in the car park. His wrench was on the floor next to the door. Harry wanted to grab the wrench and hit Charlie over the back for payback. Harry clenched the blood bags facing the door. The deranged creatures clawed at the wooden door.
CHAPTER 7
Blood Letting
The room lacked adequate ventilation, there was no window. The stench of the horde was vomit inducing and the smell wafted ungraciously under the gap at the bottom of the door.
Sheila put a hand to her mouth gagging. Charlie took small breaths.
‘Ready?’ Harry prompted both Sheila and Charlie. He couldn’t cover his nose while holding the blood bags. Harry stood at the silent door. Sounds of rustling clothes could be heard. Harry dared not listen to closely. God forbid they get in the room. They would tear them to shreds and then what? His wife and son would be doomed to endless struggles.
‘No Harry,’ Sheila said, standing behind Harry. ‘We can’t do anything until they go, can we?’ Charlie stood next to Harry at the door. The overhead lights revealed Charlie’s ghost face.
‘Sarcasm won’t help you now,’ Harry said. Sheila prodded his back.
Sheila had walked further into the storage room and retrieved a plastic Sippy cup and filled it with the lukewarm water rather than cold. She downed it and discarded the cup to the stack of boxes.
Too much was going on.
‘Calm down, Harry,’ Charlie laughed. ‘You might give yourself a headache.’
Before Harry could reply, Sheila made a wall between them.
‘Quit it. The room stinks and I can’t think,’ Sheila moaned. ‘You two make this more depressing than winter.’ Sheila got on her hands and knees. Placing her head on the concrete floor and looking through the gap under the door. Uncoordinated feet shambling around told Harry they were brain dead.
Harry and Charlie admired the view of Sheila’s behind. Her body tight in her black suit pants. Harry felt aroused and unsteady. Sheila turned and saw Harry looking.
‘Give it a fucking rest!’ Sheila jumped to her feet and slapped Harry’s chest. Charlie chuckled which angered Harry more. Charlie was just the third wheel in this trip, why couldn’t he just throw Charlie out the door?
‘How many?’ Harry enquired. He dreaded Sheila would say too many. They could be trapped in this room some time.
‘Too many for us. Unless we run for it,’ she replied.
‘I wouldn’t risk it. They are mean killing machines. Who knows what or where this comes from or how it affects people?’ Charlie said, sliding down the wall to the floor.
A small stack of boxes to Harry’s right fell, they were labelled emergency use only.
‘Are you an expert?’ Sheila mocked Charlie. She crossed her arms and leant her back to the wall next to the door.
Harry walked to the door and put his ear against it. It was depressing having to listen their way out of that stinking box. Charlie ran his palm over his cheek and sighed.
‘Sheila give it a rest. We’re all tired.’ Charlie sounded sleepy.
Harry glared at Charlie. He knew such comments resulted in poor outcomes when Sheila was pissed off. Luckily for Harry she refrained from arguing.
A fly buzzed past Harry. It was quick and too aggressive for Harry’s liking.
The plan was going to work he was certain.
Harry stepped to the door. Charlie had his eyes closed and Sheila stood behind looking unnerved.
‘This will work,’ Harry said. ‘You are going to have to trust me.’ Harry gestured towards the door. He knew Sheila liked dominance from him.
‘I’m,’ Sheila hesitated. ‘I’m with you.’ Sheila confirmed. She brushed her hair back and stepped to the door.
‘Err, give me a minute I’ll be right with you.’ Charlie groaned rubbing his eyes. Simultaneously the groaning monsters outside started banging on the door again.
Each bang brought Harry close to insanity. The bluebottle buzzed past Harry enraging him.
‘Whatever, Charlie.’
Harry tore a small opening in the blood bag, blood seeped out onto his hand. Disgusting.
‘Open that door when I say. Then slam it shut,’ Harry said. ‘Slam it shut immediately after I throw this Sheila, don’t hesitate, no matter what you see.’
‘Right, Harry. ‘I hope this works.’
‘Me too. Okay, get ready.’ Harry was determined, adrenaline coursed his body. Sheila gripped the door handle.
‘On three, okay?’ Harry’s forehead was sticky from sweat. The fly buzzed past and his temples throbbed.
‘One…two…three!’
Sheila pulled the door open. Harry threw the blood bags out into the air. There was a horde of bloodied faces trying to munch their way in. Blood trickled from their green mottled skin and their eyes bloodshot with blackened veins. Sheila squealed. The blood bag seeped out over the grotesque faces.
Sheila rammed the door shut. Harry dived to the door to help. The beasts clawed at them. Scratching into the room, they had a dead foothold. Harry felt his feet slipping as they tried to keep them from breaking in the room.
A painful scream shattered their ears. The bloodied faces and hands moved away, and they shut the door. A man was screaming. Then Harry heard a snap and the man sounded like he was chocking and coughing.
‘Someone’s out there, now’s our chance!’ Harry yelled. Harry was pumped and didn’t want to waste the opportunity. He pulled the door open.
The beasts had swarmed around a bleeding man who lay covered in blood and whose eyes were sockets. The man’s torso looked like a salami filled bread roll, with ketchup. The blood bag had splattered on him. He must have tried to sneak past.
‘Shit that was an accident,’ Harry said. ‘I didn’t know he was there.’ Harry ran into the corridor past the feasting crowd. Sheila ran behind.
The hallway was covered in a trail of intestines and organs. Harry stood on the intestine and it squished under his shoes. Sheila wobbled and vomited onto the guts and flesh.
‘To the doctor,’ she cried. She pointed to the staircase further down the corridor. The horde was fixated on the body just as Harry suspected, they craved flesh and blood. Harry slowed as they reached the end of the corridor and reached the bottom of the stairs. Harry’s legs burned and he was hungry. Other rooms appeared empty.
Harry investigated the window of the room next to the stairs. People inside gnawed with bloodshot eyes. Harry was sick to his stomach and became lightheaded. His heart pounded and everything was tinged grey.
‘Sheila,’ Harry called. Sheila grabbed Harrys’ arms and pulled him up the staircase. She gasped for breath, holding the staircase railing with her free hand. The staircase lights went out plunging them into darkness. Harry was dizzy from going in circles.
Sheila let go as they reached the fifth floor. Harry fell to the floor exhausted. Fresh air was coming in from a window further down the corridor. It rejuvenated his senses, but the stench of chlorine overwhelmed him. The floor seemed normal.
‘The monitor said floor five,’ Sheila said. ‘Come on.’ They crouched from the staircase into the sparkling hallway taking a right.
The howling breeze from the open window echoed along the hallway. This floor had less rooms. Harry soon tired from crouching, his calves cramping. They were near the end of the corridor, at the end a small unoccupied desk. Harry looked at the door on his right.
‘There’s a good chance he’s in there,’ Harry whispered. His eyes darted from door to door, wiping the sweat from his face. They had to be quiet. Sheila looked at the door.
It read;
J. McCormack MST, PHD, BIONEURO
‘Big title, I hope he can help shed some light on this.’ Harry crou
ched towards the door. He hesitated, fearing the doctor was dead. Harry looked at Sheila.
‘That was an accident back there,’ he said. Sheila placed a finger to his lips.
‘I get it, survival,’ she replied. ‘It was a shot in the dark.’ Sheila gazed into his eyes. The hospital hallway transformed. The howling wind drowned out by moans.
‘Shit they must have followed us,’ Harry said. ‘Let’s get inside. I’ve had enough of bloodletting for today.’
Sheila giggled and it irritated Harry. Harry opened the doctor’s office door, they both slipped in and he closed it behind.
They stood up. A weak grumble halted Harry. A hysterical laugh unnerved him, like a maniacal clown. Harry walked further into the well-lit room. A face emerged from behind the grey filing cabinet to the left of the desk. A shaking man appeared with a scalpel in hand. He was thin and dressed in a hospital gown with five hospital admission bracelets. The man’s face was dirty. His thick brown hair knotted. Harry pulled Sheila close to him. Harry saw the injured doctor in the left corner of the room behind the desk. He was shaking. Gripping his bleeding right leg.
The gowned man stepped forward, slicing a small wound into his forehead, blood trickled down his eyes and cheeks. He was hunching over like a gargoyle. His bony shoulders protruding disturbingly.
‘Welcome to my house,’ the disturbed man said. ‘We’re gonna have a party now.’
‘Oh no,’ Harry muttered. Sheila’s palm slipping from Harry’s. Harry was angry he let Sheila talk him into this.
‘We can run for it,’ she whispered from the corner of her mouth. It dawned on Harry how messed up this situation was becoming. Harry also realised something else that might come back to haunt him.
‘We left Charlie behind.’
CHAPTER 8
Revenge is sweet
Charlie awoke. Smelling the air. His chest was burning. His legs shook to life, blood rushing back to the feet. The storage room was empty. Harry and Sheila were gone.
Beach Town: Apocalypse Page 5
