Karen stood beside Jonny. "Jesus," she said. "Just like the clinic over on Spencer."
Without taking his eyes off the situation at the front desk, Taj asked Karen, "What about the clinic on Spencer?"
Jonny likewise keeping his eyes on the front desk said, "Chaos. There was a crowd, a mob really. Broke in. Some ran away. Some started fighting each other over supplies. People killing each other."
"No, I'm not going to sit back down. Get me a fucking doctor right fucking now you fucking bitch or so help me God--" The big man in the suit turned toward the guard inching closer to him. "Back off, buddy. I swear I'll use this." He pulled and aimed a revolver at the guard who immediately raised his arms a little higher.
"Take it easy," the guard was saying, not backing away but keeping his hands in front of him.
"You think I'm playing, asshole. If I don't see a doctor in the next thirty seconds..."
"You'll what? Look around, sir. This is a clinic. You going to shoot a bunch of sick people?"
The big man's face seemed to swell in fits of anger and fear. "I don't care. I want a doctor for my girl. I'll do it..."
The guard glanced around. "Where's your little girl? Maybe we can take her in back to go see one of the doctors? How does that sound?"
The big man turned, as if to point out where his daughter was. "Right. Good. She's right--"
"Shit," Jonny whispered. "Not good."
Taj frowned at the comment and watched as the guard lunged toward the big man in the suit. He tackled him at the waist, tipping them both over on the floor. People around them, those standing and sitting backed away quickly as if the rage itself was contagious. The two men struggling, the young guard reaching for the revolver in the big man's meaty hand. It was brought to the center between them.
And then it went off.
Like a muffled pop.
Still loud enough to ring off the walls.
Some of the non-sick, or just the conscious ones, howled.
Some ran for the door.
Jonny bounced on his toes, like a boxer, as if he wanted to run too, but not in the direction of the exit. His focus, as Taj could see, was singularly on the two crumpled men on the floor. But then he glanced at Karen and stopped dancing on his feet.
Karen didn't seem to notice. She watched with a hand covering her mouth.
Up front, the big man in the suit pushed the guard off him. He wheezed, struggling to get back to his feet.
"Jesus, he killed him. He killed the guard," Karen said, still holding her hand to her mouth.
"Now!" the big man in the suit yelled. "About that doctor." He turned toward the check in desk. The nurse had disappeared. He jerked around, still wielding the revolver. "Where the fuck is the nurse? Hey, get the fuck back out here and bring me a doctor. Hey? Are you listening?" He started for the double doors and stopped. He turned back to the waiting room. His expression, the red rage suddenly downcast and lament with concern.
"Baby?" he called to someone Taj could not see.
"What are you doing? You feeling better, honey?" The big man in the suit left the double door and retreated to the check in desk. "Angela?"
Taj stood on his tippy toes to see who the big man was talking too. Over the crowd of comatose, sweating, pus- wounded patients he saw a little girl in a red dress. She shuffled towards him. Her head oddly stiff on her small shoulders.
"Sweetie, come here. Daddy will take you to a doctor, okay? Come with me." The big man in the suit reached for his little girl's hand.
She stopped walking to him.
The big man in the suit knelt. "What's wrong, honey?"
The little girl sauntered on her shiny dress shoes. Her stiff neck rolling forward. And the she lunged on her father with a sickening hungry growl.
Her father yelped and fell back on the floor.
Unfinished, the girl crawled over his round belly and bit into his thick neck. A mist of red sprayed out on the waxy tile. Screaming now, the big man fought to hold his wound, but the little girl bit at his hand and resumed tearing at his throat. Blood pooled quickly, soaking into her red dress and into his suit. For what felt both like seconds and years, the man spasmed and then lay still.
More within the clinic shouted and ran out the door until the only people who remained were those who came alone and were too sick to move themselves. And those refusing to let go of hope that someone would eventually help them.
At the check in desk, the little girl continued to consume her father, now filling herself with meat from his large hand. Peeling back the skin with her teeth, chewing on his fingers, lapping up the blood.
"This isn't fucking right," Jonny said, licking his lips, seemingly unable to take his gaze away from the gruesome spectacle.
"No shit," Taj exhaled, breathing deep and fast.
Did that just really happen? Is that young girl really...?
Jonny turned to Karen. "We have to go."
Karen turned away from the site of the little girl eating her father. "What about Kristy? We have to get her help."
Taj turned away as well, he'd seen enough. Much like Jonny, he wanted to get his--
"Where's my father?" he said without realizing he'd said anything at all, glaring at an empty seat beside a shivering sweat soaked Kristy.
The News
24-Hour News Network
"...a brawl which supposedly began at a Manchester pub, The Beehive, has quickly spread to the northern section of Liverpool and the southern portion of Leeds. Protection Command and other Special Police Operations have mounted a line of defense to meet head on with the growing mob of rioters. Sources say mass panic and looting--"
Channel 28 on cable's never-ending news feed.
"Virgin Trains East Coast and Arriva's Northern service have ceased operation due to unknown reasons. RMT General Secretary Mick Cash was unavailable for comment on the exact cause for the closure or when services will resume for the UK eastern coast--"
Another channel, this one with an aged man in a tweed coat, scruffy hair as if he'd quickly and carelessly combed it before the cameras turned on. Judging by the bags under his eyes, he most likely didn't care about his appearance.
"NATO has reported the deployment of 'thousands of troops' to bolster Estonia's counter offensive, joining with France's Special Operations Command and the Royal Danish Army to contain what sources have called 'full scale rioting and looting' which has taken place throughout the night in Western Europe. According to Chancellor Angela Merkel, German Kommando Spezialkräfte have set up a barricade across the entire Netherlands' border. No official statement has been released from the Monarch nor the Prime Minster. All contact has gone dark since late last night. Gunfire has been reported on--"
Another channel. Another anchorman, clean shaven and fresh for the cameras. He read from the teleprompter, stopping every other sentence to frown, as if what he was reading simply couldn't be real and perhaps someone's idea of a joke.
"The World Health Organization has convened an emergency committee to discuss the explosive spread of what is now being referred to as..." the anchor paused, squinting again at the screen, "as the Teralis Virus, named after the ophiocordyceps unilateralis, a fungus better known as the Zombie Fungus. Experts on the committee have commented that Teralis could be a mimic strain of the fungus..." he paused again, smiling, "...while others, including both Doctor Sally Weaver and Matthew Desmond with the Epidemic Intelligence Service, have disputed this sensational claim, stating lack of credible evidence to the existence of a strain fungi or even if said strain would have the slightest impact on our own immune systems instead of that of insects which the fugus typically infects. More focus should be given to the outbreak of what the CDC is calling a Super Flu, and I for one couldn't agree more, to say anything, at least WHO haven't lost their sense of humor in this ordeal..."
Another dozen channels later.
"Yes, Steve, you're breaking up...what was that? Are those--?" Maria Garza licked her lips as she glared
at something or someone off camera. She pressed down on her earpiece, listening to an inaudible report. Garza had been with CNN Headline News for over a year now yet she still maintained her signature appearance, a tight fitted knee length dress that revealed just enough of her cleavage and supple curves to pass the FCC TV-MA 14 rating the network typically held. Tonight, her dress was purple. And her usual warm inviting smile was replaced with a look of absolute uncertainty. "Excuse me, I'm being told that we just lost contact with our Steve, reporting live in Seoul. While we try to reconnect, in other news, the FAA has reported cancellations for international flights arriving from..." Maria glared at the screen, reading slightly, unblinking, again she licked her lips before continuing, "...all terminals..." looking off camera, "that can't be right, right?"
Muffled voices argued off screen.
Maria cleared her throat and continued.
"The FAA has just announced limited flights domestically. If you are a ticketed passenger, authorities request you contact your booking agency. Only emergency personnel and services will be given access to flights. Resumption of service is undetermined--"
Surfing the channels to the local news, a dark-skinned man with oval glasses and a thick mustache leans toward the camera, turned slightly sideways as if posing for some sort of headshot.
"Thank you for joining us at KHOU, your local news source, coming to you with a breaking report. Governor Greg Abbott has just declared a State of Emergency and is contacting the federal government to assist in combating what has quickly become wide spread rioting and looting throughout the city. Here in Houston, Chief of Police Art Acevedo is urging residents to stay at home and avoid major populated areas. Interstate 45 and 610 and the Beltway have been temporarily closed until the situation can be dealt with, according to Houston Mayor Sylvester Turner. In hopes of stabilizing this epidemic of unknown origins, the Emergency Operations Center are opening medical relief stations--"
On another channel, two newscasters report the latest of developing conditions with that same unwashed appearance as so many other reporters on so many other channels, uncertain about what they were reporting, but too terrified to stop, as if the mere act of turning off the cameras and walking out the door would be the end cause of everything.
"This is an ABC13 Eyewitness News Breaking Report, coming to you from Houston, Texas, I'm Melanie Lawson--"
"--and I'm Kevin Quinn filling in for Tracy Clemons."
Camera pans back to Melanie in her usual navy-blue blazer and pearl white blouse. Her hair is normally kept in a curled bob, but in this early afternoon hour, she looks as if she hadn't any time to comb her hair or even apply makeup.
"We're coming to you with a Breaking News report. According to Jeff Slovak reporting on scene, Methodist Medical Center in downtown Houston is on the verge of shutting down. Martial Law was announced earlier this morning from Houston Mayor Sylvester Turner, and National Guardsmen have been put in place to keep the hospital open and secure."
Panning to Kevin, his twelve o'clock shadow is looking even more gritty. If asked, he'd have a hard time remembering the last time he shaved or even brushed his teeth. His brown suit looked obviously ruffled as if whatever sleep he'd had was in that suit.
"Reporting live at Houston's Methodist Medical Center, Jeff Slovak, can you tell us exactly what the situation is at the medical center?"
Live feed coming from downtown Houston, seasoned journalist Jeff Slovak stares unblinking into the camera. Behind him, uniformed officers and National Guardsmen struggle to keep a surge mob from pouring into the hospital. Random people, some crying, others shouting, run by in a blur. The noise is borderline chaotic with sirens blaring and someone yelling into a bullhorn.
Microphone in hand and white knuckled, "Kevin, the situation here at Methodist looks very dire. We're being told that officials for the City of Houston are diverting patients to CDC and Houston Health Department inoculation stations..."
Camera cut out, instantly filling TV screens across Houston with a Google Earth image of the city and the surrounding areas. Red triangles marked in various spot across the map.
Jeff continued, "As you can see, there are dozens of locations people can take those who are sick or injured to receive treatment."
Shifting to the right, the map of Houston splits the screen with glimpses of Jeff Slovak still squeezing his mic with people rushing behind him and with the newscasters sitting behind their wide podium. Melanie frowned, giving the camera and her audience her best serious pose. "The red triangles on the map, you said officials are saying those are inoculation stations? Have they said what exactly the inoculation is for? What's causing this epidemic?"
Short pause.
"No comment has been made as to what the inoculation is actually for. The CDC left the hospital just a short while ago and refused to give a statement. Authorities with the Houston Health Department mentioned something about a kind of Super Flu strain, but--"
Gun fire rang from somewhere in the mob of people rushing the barricades. Jeff flinched and ducked, as did the cameraman, giving the people watching and those at ABC13 Eyewitness News a jittery image.
"Jeff? Jeff, are those gunshots?" Kevin broke in.
Stuttering, "Yes...yes...someone in the crowd is--"
More gun reports, like a volley popping off in sporadic unison.
"--no...it's not the crowd, it's the soldiers...the National Guardsmen are opening fire into the crowd!"
Quickly, struggling to keep the camera steady, the live feed zooms in on the barricade. Many of the Army green uniformed soldiers were aiming rifles into the crowd, some single shot, others three round bursts. Others were using the stock of their rifles, clubbing back the nearly overwhelming horde. Fuzzy at first, the lens soon focused on the faces of the crowd. Some panicked and pleading to be let through, others running away from the fog of gunfire. Many more were pressing on, clawing and biting at the troops and officers posted to keep the barricade intact. Reaching with wounded hands and deadpan glares. Some with injuries none could or should have and be up and around among the living. Moaning with a sort of hungry lament. Gnashing teeth and drooling a greenish yellow puss. Undisturbed by the whiz of bullets and smoke. Those shot in the head fell and moved no more. The rest pressed and pressed and pressed until they fell over the guardsmen and the policemen, biting, ripping out flesh and uniform. Munching among a symphony of starved groans and horrifying screams.
"Oh God...oh Jesus...are you guys seeing this?" Jeff wheezed nearby off camera.
Back in the studio. "We're not sure what we are seeing... Jeff, Jeff can you get out of there?" Melanie shouted.
Back at Methodist, the camera panned back out, jerking wildly, moving away from the scene. "I think so, we're going to head into the hospital. There are more officers inside, they should be able to hold back the...rioters...whoever these assailants are..." Talking off camera. "Mike, come on man..."
The camera pulled away from the scene at the barricade and panned over to Jeff standing with his back to the hospital sliding doors, waving for Mike, the cameraman, to catch up. But Mike stopped, staring back at Jeff at the door, his perspective the same shown on TVs across Houston.
"Mike, what are you waiting for? Mike--? Oh god, get off me, get off!" Jeff stumbled backwards but was held tight by a dozen or more greedy hands pulling him back through the now open hospital door. Greedy hands belonging to bodies with horrifying open chest wounds, pouring out crimson and pus, many with purplish chunks of flesh removed from what appeared to be bite marks, eyes gouged and gone, empty sockets leaking a clear viscous material, bodies dressed in everyday street clothes, jeans and t-shirts and even nurse's uniforms and bloodied white lab coats and navy blue with bronze shining badges and patrol belts, grabbing and pulling Jeff Slovak back through the hospital doors.
"Mike--help me...help--" Jeff stuttered in a gurgled plea, and then he was gone. Pulled down to the tile floor inside the hospital. Just visible enough through the glass for the cam
eraman to broadcast his image, an image the censors, had anyone with the FCC cared enough to report, would never have allowed on the screen of millions of American viewers.
Mike kept on him until the seasoned journalist's piercing shrieks faded among the wet lustful munching of the tightly balled crowd that knelt over the body and then the camera pitched and the image rushed downward to the ground.
Back at the station and across Houston, the feed pixilated and then blurred and then filled with static. The broadcast then changed back to the newscasters behind their wide podium, glaring wordlessly at the camera.
"...we're...we..." Kevin muttered, his face a knot of confusion and disbelief.
Melanie waved to someone off stage. "Shut to commercial...can we cut to--"
Another channel. Another news network showing a large domed room with stadium styled seats and small desks. At the front, a large raised podium where a man in a blue suit and red tie hammers a gavel. Rolling waves of murmured conversation refuses to give way to the Speaker. Most of the talk carries hints of dismay and panic, the rest aggravation and frustration for the opposing party. The Speaker hammers his gavel once more and finally the grumbling ebbs into a slight whisper. A disembodied voice fills the speakers of viewers nationwide.
"As we can see, it looks like the Speaker of the House has just called the House in session regarding approval of emergency funds for National Emergency Services to be dispatched across major U.S. cities. Many Representatives have not shown for the assembly, unable to be reached for the emergency session. Both Republicans and Democrats are disagreeing on what the reaction should be regarding the epidemic and mass rioting in cities. Rep. Fred Turner of Arizona has stated before the session began that he believed State governors should be given authorization and freedom to issue martial law as they see fit. While Rep. Daniel Shay of Virginia has stated that he thinks it's too late and the federal government should initiate Martial Law on a national level instead of the regional as some have--"
Shouting broke out among the scattered assembled Representatives. Arms and hands flaying in the air in dramatic indignation, neither side willing to comprise or come to some sort of agreement. Two men across the room, jabbing fingers at each other, neck ties loosened, red faced and shaking with anger.
Planet of the Dead Page 10
