The Dark Trinity (Book 1): Shuffle

by Steven Till

  “For fuck’s sake girl, what kind of medical supplies might you need?” Sam interrupted.

  “Okay, uh... I need that counter cleared off. Towels, luke-warm, sterile water, gauze, alcohol, antibiotics, and whatever else you can give me,” Alison replied as she tried to remember what her textbook had listed.

  “You heard the doc,” Sam yelled to everyone else. “Get her what she needs, pronto!”

  The group sprang into action, moving as quickly as they could to get the makeshift operating station set up. Sam ran to the front door, grabbing Pete and Bill along the way. The trio exited the building and ran to the others, who were carrying the now screaming Ethan towards the door.

  “His right leg has been hit below the knee...” Evelyn gasped as Ethan hung on her and Chatty’s shoulders. Pete and Bill ran over and each grabbed one of his thighs, allowing them to carry him in faster.

  “Someone needs to shut him up!” Shawn barked. “He’s broadcasting our position!”

  Everyone ignored the comment as they finally made it into the shop. Ethan continued to scream as they placed him on the counter. Pete closed the front door and locked it up tight, closing the blinds as much as he could.

  Nobody spoke. Alison performed a quick, but thorough check over Ethan's entire body. She noted the blood on his shoulder, then focused on the leg; the more severe of the injuries. She was muttering to herself, trying to visualize her various medical textbooks for the medical knowledge that she hadn’t learned yet

  “Okay, we need to stop the bleeding. I need some towels and that water over here, and I need someone to help me.

  “What do you need me to do?” Evelyn asked, as she grabbed some hand towels from Carlos, making her way around the other side of the counter.

  “First we need to clean the wound before I can do anything else,” Alison said. “It doesn’t look like any major arteries were hit, so that’s good news, the bad news is that the fibula is shattered in two. I can see each end of the break quite clearly. I need that alcohol over here too.”

  Bill grabbed the bottle of alcohol that was sitting next to him and handed it to Evelyn, who in turn, opened the bottle and set it next to the pan of water. Alison immersed one of the towels into the water and began to wipe away the blood surrounding the wound. She pushed along his leg as she checked for other possible breaks. Ethan let out a scream with every gentle pat, prod, and rub that Alison made.

  “Do we have anything we can give him for the pain?” Evelyn asked to anybody who was listening.

  Daniel rummaged through all the medical supplies, finally turning up a half empty bottle of Oxycontin. “I found these, will they work?” he asked, tossing the bottle to Evelyn.

  “They’re gonna have to,” she replied. She fished out three pills and handed them to Bill. “Make him take these.”

  Bill took the painkillers and shoved them into Ethan’s mouth while he screamed, nearly causing him to choke. Bill jerked his hand away at the same moment. “Ow, what the hell dude? Why did you bite me?”

  “I didn’t bite you!” Ethan yelled out between gasps after dry swallowing the pills. “Why did you try to choke me?”

  “I was helping you dip-shit,” Bill replied in his usual monotone voice, although it did contain a slight edge of annoyance.

  Alison had managed to get the majority of blood off around the wound and had checked for more bone breakage. Certain that she only needed to deal with the one break, and the open wound, she looked up at Ethan. He had just taken those pills; there’s no way they would have started taking effect yet.

  “Hey Ethan, I need to finish cleaning the wound before I can set your leg, so I’m going to be pouring a lot of alcohol on it. This is going to hurt a lot.”

  Ethan propped up on his elbows and glared at the bone jutting out of the gaping hole in his shin. The pain was unimaginable. Now this chick was telling him that it was going to get worse? He was burning up and his skin felt like it was crawling off of his body. He watched as Alison opened the bottle of alcohol and tipped it over his leg.

  Searing pain washed over him and he reflexively shot his arm out, punching Bill in the jaw. “Christ, dude, what the fuck?” Bill shouted. Ethan didn’t hear a word of it. All he could focus on was the pain.

  “Hey we need something to distract him. Give him something to try to focus on other than what they’re doing to his leg,” Sam said. “Ethan, what can we give you to help?”

  Through tear-filled eyes, Ethan managed to say one coherent word. “Tits!”

  “Well that shouldn’t be a problem,” Pete said, already on his way down the magazine aisle. A moment later, he returned with a big thick issue of Jugs, opened it up and held it in front of Ethan’s face.

  The pain was overwhelming. His vision blurred from all the crying, but it was cool, bad injuries warranted tears. The chicks wouldn’t think he was a pussy for crying with a gaping hole in his leg. He willed his eyes to focus on the magazine in front of him. Another wave of pain hit him and he tried to stare at the large breasts of the pinup girl, but it was useless.

  “NOT WORKING!” he screamed.

  “Then what can we getcha boy? What will help?” Sam asked.

  “TITS! NICE FULL FUCKING TITS!” Ethan exclaimed.

  “Jesus Christ, son, we gave you tits and you told us they didn’t work.”

  “NEED...REAL..BOOBIES...” he shouted. He had to admit, this was a real shitty way to look at some boobs up close and personal, but hey, if someone here would do it, then why the hell not.

  Evelyn and Alison locked eyes for a moment. “Oh no, I’m playing doctor enough here. If he needs to see a real pair, then YOU do it,” Alison stated in a matter-of-fact tone.

  Sometimes she really hated the fact that she was a nice person and couldn’t stand to see people suffer. “Fine, whatever,” Evelyn said with a sigh.

  She dropped the towels in her hand and walked up towards Ethan’s face. Without hesitation, she lifted her sweater, tee shirt, and sports bra all at once, exposing her perky 36D breasts. Ethan’s eyes bulged out of his skull, as well as Sam’s, Pete’s, Daniel’s, and Bill’s. Evelyn looked over to Alison, who also seemed to be just as captivated as the men. “What the fuck are you waiting for doc?” she snapped.

  Alison went back to cleaning out the wound, pouring more alcohol over it. Ethan let out another scream, but it definitely was less intense than the previous cries. It was at that point when Evelyn felt a hand clutch her left breast, holding it in a cold, clammy embrace. Looking down at the young man, she saw a grin pull across his face.

  “Okay, happy fun time is over,” she said, pulling her sweater down with enough force to dislodge Ethan’s hand from her chest. “I think it’s time to set that bone, don’t you think, doc?”

  “Um...yes, that sounds about right. This should be clean now,” Alison responded.

  “I’ve got another bone that needs set...” Ethan joked in his best pick-up voice he could manage.

  “Wow, really?” was all Evelyn could respond with. She returned to her spot across the counter from Alison.

  “Before I can stitch him up, we need to set this bone,” Alison said, anxious to get this over with. “Stand at his feet. When I tell you too, I want you to pull his foot towards you, hard.”

  “No problem,” Evelyn answered, an evil smirk appearing on her face.

  She positioned herself by Ethan’s feet and grabbed the ankle of his injured leg. Alison placed her hands over the two broken ends of the bone. Ethan was flat on his back now, delirious with pain, fever, and the thought of Evelyn’s glorious breasts. The painkillers had begun to take effect which didn't help his coherence.

  In one swift jolt, he felt a hard tug on his foot along with hard pressure on his shin. The broken bone crunched back into place, the two jagged ends meeting together like a puzzle piece. Ethan almost jumped out of his skin from the shock of the pain, which felt worse than anything he’d felt in his life.

  “Oh, did that hurt, big boy?” Evelyn
chided, the sarcasm dripping off every word.

  She assisted Alison with closing up the wound and splinting the leg, then walked over to Sam, who talked with Pete, Bill, Daniel and Shawn. The way it sounded, they were arguing about the circumstances that led to Ethan’s injury.

  “So what happened out there?” she asked.

  “This asshole fucking sneezed and it threw off his aim,” Pete said, pointing to Shawn.

  “Look, I said I was sorry. I don’t know what you want me to do about it now,” Shawn replied defensively.

  “Uh, excuse me...someone? Anyone?” Theresa called out. “Is this normal for a broken leg?”

  Everyone turned to look at Theresa, who had been trying to lower Ethan’s fever with a cool rag. They saw the red vomit oozing out of Ethan’s mouth. Rachel, who had been watching nearby, not out of concern but out of pure curiosity, cast a disgusted face at the gross display.

  Alison rushed around the makeshift medic station, upset that she missed something during her evaluation of her first patient. “Oh shit,” she said upon seeing the thick red syrup that was now pooling on and around Ethan, who fell into unconsciousness. “Someone turn his head so he doesn’t drown in that crap.”

  “What the hell is that stuff?” Sam asked.

  “I honestly have no idea. It can’t be a result of his leg wound, and that vomit isn’t consistent with an allergic reaction.” She placed her head on his chest and was able to hear a faint, irregular heartbeat. His breathing was labored and raspy. “It must be his shoulder wound. Quickly, get his shirt off.”

  That task proved more difficult because nobody wanted to touch the thick goop that rapidly accumulated. Finally, they managed to get his coat and shirt off. What they saw caused a silent panic throughout the survivors. Ethan’s right shoulder was white, almost translucent. Dark red lines which looked like tree roots spread out and weaved a lattice pattern underneath the pale skin. At the center of these dark tributaries was a small hole near the end of his collar bone.

  “Excuse me, people...” Carlos said from the front door. He had been keeping watch with Chatty ever since they brought Ethan inside. “We seem to have a problem. A big problem.” He kept his voice calm, but it was shaky.

  “In case you haven’t been keeping up, we kinda have a problem over here too,” Bill responded sarcastically.

  “I don’t think you understand. It would seem that Ethan’s tortuous screams outside has, um, attracted some unwanted visitors,” Carlos replied.

  Sam rushed from behind the counter and headed for the door. “How many unwanted visitors, exactly?”

  Before Sam even got there, Carlos managed to push out one word through his panic. “Hundreds.”

  Sam pushed past the rotund biologist and lifted one of the blinds just enough to peer out past the bus. Outside, he could see a group of creepers inspecting the remains of their recently deceased brethren. They looked up towards the building. Carlos was right. Behind them, Sam was able to make out hundreds of ghouls in the bright moonlight. They all just stood there, staring at the Pleasure Palace.

  Sam turned and hustled back to the weapons cache. “We’re in the shit now, ladies and gentlemen. Things are about to get bad. They know we’re in here and I’m pretty sure they aren’t here to shop, so everyone arm yourself, we’re in for a long night.”

  Rachel spoke up. “So what the hell are we going to do about them?”

  “I think the better question right now, is what are we going to do with him?” Shawn asked, looking over at Ethan, who was now paler than ever. The dark red spider webs under his skin had spread across his entire upper body and his breathing was shallow and rapid.

  “Well, ain’t that some shit,” Sam whispered to himself.

  CHAPTER 31 TUNNEL TROUBLE

  Nathan closed the trap door and dropped down to the floor to find Ronnie noshing away on a couple rats that he had caught. The sight caused hunger pains in his own stomach and he knew that he had to eat something. It had been quite a while since he devoured those pigeons on the rooftop.

  He looked around the room and took in their surroundings. The walls were not normal cinder block, as he would have expected, but large stone slabs that looked decades old. The room was near perfectly square, each wall extending about forty feet. Lining the walls were large metal shelves, all were empty, save for the random box or five gallon bucket.

  Nathan thought it was a bit odd that Ricky called this a sub-basement, since he didn’t remember going into an initial basement. Glancing up, he noticed that the ladder which led up to the trap door was a good eighteen to twenty feet high. They must not have built a basement at all under the bar for some reason or another.

  Ronnie kept slurping up rodent remains, periodically belching, then laughing to himself. He had the right idea; load up on the food, because who knew when they’d be able to eat again. Nathan scanned the floor for any signs of life, hoping that his friend hadn’t already eaten everything. His night vision reassured him that he wasn’t going to starve, as the floors and shelving were teaming with vermin.

  Five minutes later, Nathan had succeeded in devouring eight rats. He would have liked to have feasted more, but they couldn’t stay there any longer. Sooner or later, the people they had left to die in the bar would come after them, or even worse, the Horde would find a way inside the bar. No, staying here any longer wasn’t an option.

  “We’d better get moving, buddy. I’d like to put some distance between us and that horde.”

  “Fo sho,” Ronnie agreed, as he licked his fingers and hopped up onto his feet.

  They walked over to the opposite side of the room. A narrow staircase that led down to a large steel door, which looked as though it belonged on a submarine or some other type of water vessel. As they walked down the stairway single file, Nathan had to stop mid-step. A strong, powerful voice boomed in his head. One single word, echoed clearly in his mind.

  [TRAP!]

  Ronnie was about to turn the large lever-handle to the door when Nathan stopped him. “No, wait!”

  “What’s up?” Ronnie asked, his claw still outstretched to open the door.

  “I’m not sure. I just got this really, really bad feeling.”

  “Oh, I know what you mean. I get those all the time. Like when you think you have to rip a massive fart, but a little more comes out than you bargained for?” Ronnie gibed.

  “No, I mean I think that something is waiting for us on the other side of that door,” he replied, completely ignoring Ronnie’s humorous quip. “Let’s do this slow and quiet, alright?”

  Ronnie nodded in agreement, his demeanor becoming as serious as Nathan’s. He might like to joke around, but he wasn’t stupid either. Over the years, he’d come to trust Nathan’s gut feelings that he would have from time to time. To his knowledge, they’d never been wrong.

  He clasped the door’s lever-handle and stood near the right side as Nathan got as close to the left side as possible. After a silent count to three, Ronnie pulled the lever and pushed the door, opening it just enough for Nathan to slip through. As expected, the old steel creaked and squealed as the hinges moved, echoing throughout the sub-basement and the space beyond. They both winced as the echoes of noise lapped at the stone walls around them.

  “Well, here goes nothing,” Nathan mumbled under his breath as he slithered through the opening in front of him. Ronnie followed and pushed the door closed. Returning the door lever to the “locked” position, he then bent it around a metal support rod that crossed the door, making it impossible to re-open from the other side.

  “Good thinking,” Nathan whispered. Ronnie replied with a goofy smile and a thumbs-up.

  They both turned to view their new surroundings. Extending roughly one-hundred-fifty yards was a long passageway. It was narrow, but there was enough room for the two of them to walk side by side. They made their way down the corridor. There was no light that they could tell, but their vision allowed them to see well enough. The floor sloped downward at
about a fifteen degree grade. They were going deeper into Mt. Washington. He wondered where this would come out. The sewers? Outside? No, they hadn’t made any turns. There was no way they were going towards an exit.

  “Good news, homes...no ambush,” Ronnie whispered.

  “We’ll see,” Nathan whispered back, not convinced.

  Noises sounded behind them. They grew louder. “Looks like they found a way into the bar.” He observed. A moment later, pounding began to sound on the door. The lever moved, but no more than a quiver, as Ronnie had wrapped it around the door’s support bar.

  There was no going back, so, ambush or not, they continued forward down the sloped passage. Ahead, they saw another door just like the one they had passed through. They approached with caution, ignoring the erratic pounding behind them, focused on the new door and what might await them beyond it.

  As before, Ronnie took up position at the lever as Nathan readied himself to go through. Another three-count and they were through the second door. Again, Ronnie bent the door lever behind them. They were standing against a long wall that stretched as far as they could see to either side of them. In front of them, a large tractor trailer blocked their view of what lay ahead. Moving around the semi, they saw that they were on a two-lane road and that cars sat in gridlock, but only in one direction.

  “Holy shit!” Nathan exclaimed in a hushed voice. “We’re in a tunnel!”

  “Which tunnel?” Ronnie asked as he looked back and forth for any immediate danger.

  “Has to be the Fort Pitt tunnel. We must have gone through an old access passage. I never knew you could get topside from the tunnels, although I guess it would make sense. If the tunnels collapsed at some point, they’d no doubt put in escape routes.”

  Ronnie started getting more anxious. “Wow, that’s super interesting, bro, but don’t you think we should get the hell out of here? The last time we were in a tunnel, it didn't go so well.”