Before The Cure (Book 1): Before The Cure

by Gould, Deirdre

The mattress had tipped off the hospital bed and leaned sideways against the far rails. The television dangled by its cord, its glass spidered in the thin frame. No blood at least. Neil hoped that was a good sign. The footsteps were getting too close to hesitate much longer and he opened the door wide enough to get himself through. He held it just shy of latching, afraid to be locked in again. Should have searched that nurse’s desk first. Maybe I could have found the door code or key. Or maybe I would have been caught. That nurse that came into my room wasn’t himself.

  “Dante?” he whispered, still hanging on to the door. No one answered. He hadn’t really expected one. He was either going to have to speak louder or let go of the door. Something banged in the hallway behind him. Neil held his breath, listening. Maybe someone would say something sane. Maybe it’d be another policeman. Maybe they could help. Maybe it’d draw Dante out, anyway. Make a louder sound than Neil dared to. He had a wave of shame at his cowardice but it snapped off before it could overwhelm him because the next sound that came from the hallway was a long, guttural cry and more crashes. Shit, they got out of my room, he thought, though he knew it was coming from the wrong direction. There was no way he could stay here. They’d see him through the window. He had to move from the door. He glanced around for something to help but saw nothing obvious. He jumped as another crash echoed in the hallway. Sounded like a meal cart overturned. Can’t prop it open anyway. Door needs to look closed so they don’t try. Latch plate. Block the latch plate. He pulled his wallet free of his pocket, fumbling to retrieve a card with one hand. A few slid out and spilled to the floor before he could catch them. His license snagged and he wriggled it free with his teeth. He turned and knelt in front of the door, peering carefully through the crack. The people fighting seemed to have moved slightly toward the nurse’s station. They weren’t in front of the room, anyway. Neil risked opening it just a hair further to slide his license over the lock plate and held his breath as he allowed it to close. The license was flimsy and slippery, but it’d hold for the moment. Move quick, he told himself, before something knocks it loose. Get Dante and get out of here.

  Still, he crept away from the door, afraid to make too much noise or move too rapidly and attract the attention of the combatants outside.

  “Dante?” he called in a harsher whisper, crouch running to the bed. He pushed the mattress aside, afraid he’d find Dante unconscious on the floor behind it. All he found were a few drops of dried blood on the gray tile. He headed for the tiny bathroom even though he knew he wouldn’t find his friend. If Dante had been here when whatever had destroyed his room had happened, he must have fled. He would have done the same as Neil. Could have come by for me, buddy, he thought. Or at least warned me. He opened the bathroom door partway until it stopped, blocked by something inside. Maybe he’d been wrong. “Dante?” he asked. He wriggled his way through the narrow opening, afraid that Dante had been hurt or fainted. Neil had been left completely alone for almost sixteen hours now. There was no reason to think he’d been the only one. Dante’s shoulder had been in a lot worse shape than Neil’s hand. If the stitches had come loose and he started to bleed again— Neil flicked on the light. It wasn’t Dante on the floor. Neil yelped before he could stop himself, then clapped a hand over his own mouth and closed his eyes. He waited for a few breaths but no footsteps raced toward him, no growls rippled through the outer room. He opened his eyes. It wasn’t Dante, but Neil wouldn’t have been able to tell from the person’s face. There was no face. Just a mash of flaking maroon cavities that had once been eyes and a mouth. The nose was gone, just a flat, slick pulp of blood and flesh where it should have been. It was dressed in scrubs. Little pink sprays of flowers scattered over the fabric, half-obscured by bloodstains. There was no way they were alive. You have to check, he told himself, though a large part of him rebelled. They might still be suffering. You have to check. Neil crouched down. No way. No way to even breathe… He extended his hand anyway, pawing at the motionless wrist that lay closest. It was warm and his fingers sank into something wet. He gagged, but held on, turning the nurse’s arm so he could figure out where the pulse should be. There was another chunk missing. That’s what he’d felt. A ragged hole in the skin, just where his fingers rested. “I’m sorry,” he whispered, trying to move his fingers. He wasn’t sure how long he should wait to feel a heartbeat. Surely, not as long as he did. But he could hear his own pulse thundering behind his ear and he couldn’t be sure if it were his or the body’s. He wanted to be certain. So he held on much longer than necessary. At last, when he was certain there wasn’t even the faintest thud against his fingertips and the person’s chest didn’t move even with a shallow breath, he gently released the arm to the floor and wiped his hand on the hand towel next to the sink. “Sorry,” he said again, though he wasn’t sure why. He thought about moving the body but wasn’t sure how. Or to where. He wriggled his way out of the bathroom again and closed the door. He’d tell the police how he found the nurse when all this was over. What about Dante? They do the same to him? Is he lying in some other room like this? What the hell is going on? No, no. They let him go. Has to be. The body was the cleaning person getting the room ready for another patient, he tried to convince himself. But he knew it wasn’t true. Dante would have called him. Or come to get him. No way he’d just leave without telling Neil. No, Dante was still in the hospital somewhere. Neil hoped he was alive. How on Earth am I going to find him? This place is massive. Gotta get help. Find a nurse or a policeman or— get out of here, find someone who knows what the hell is going on. I’ll send them back for Dante and— that body. No more detours.

  9

  Neil ran from Dante’s room, sprinting to the stairwell and clattered down, too desperate to get out to care how much noise he made. He just had to get to the doors or another person. He needed to find some help and the whole insane, upsetting mess would be behind him. A flight and a half down, a door crashed open. Neil froze and the sounds of a struggle echoed up the steps. The stairs’ turn prevented Neil from seeing who it was or how many. A shriek reverberated off the cinder block walls and then a thump that made the railing shiver under his hand. You have to help, he urged himself, but his feet refused to move. He glanced up the stairs. There’s only one way out. Up is just putting it off. You have to help. For your own sake, too. Help with what? The cop had a gun and couldn’t stop it. The grunting and thumps of the fight grew louder and another wail erupted from below him. Neil forced himself down a step. Two. His legs felt too stiff. Brittle. He clutched the railing hard enough to for his hands to cramp and start to slip with his sweat, but it was a distant sensation. His heartbeat was so loud in his ears that it made the fight below him seem muffled. He’d reached the landing and crouched down. It took a second to work up enough courage to look around the corner. What if it’s Dante? Or Mom? What if she came to help you and it’s her down there? What if Randi’s with her? The idea broke his paralysis and he swung around the corner.

  But it wasn’t Dante or his mother. A woman in a once-white apron and tattered plastic gloves grappled with a man in a shirt suit and pants. They were both bloody, the woman clearly bitten in several places on her arms and hands, the indented tooth-mark rings already bruising.

  “Shit,” she gasped when she saw Neil standing frozen a few stairs up. “Tell me you aren’t crazy too.”

  “I don’t know anymore.”

  “Help!” she cried, kicking out against the man who strained against her outstretched arms, teeth snapping.

  “What should I—” he broke off as the man broke free of her grip and lunged for her, making the woman stumble backward and trip. Neil dashed down the remaining steps and plowed into the man’s side with his shoulder. They careened into the stairwell wall and the man let out a surprised whoosh of air.

  “Go, go!” the woman shouted, yanking on Neil’s wrist. He scrambled to get clear of the man. The woman dragged him into the corridor but then stopped. Neil gave her a push, his whole focus on the man he�
�d freed her from. He was up and through the door before it closed.

  “Don’t stop!” he yelled.

  “One second.” She held him back with one arm watching for the door to open again. “One— Now!” She lurched forward again as the door slammed open, pulling him after her. The man behind them yelled, an incoherent roar of rage. Its wordlessness sent a chill through Neil and he didn’t hesitate, sprinting down the hallway with no idea of where they were headed.

  “Here Shay, in here!” cried a woman’s voice.

  A glass door ahead swung open. The thin, frightened woman holding it waved them on, looking ready to bolt inside if they took too long.

  “It’ll never hold,” gasped the woman with him. “We need to—”

  “No time!”

  Neil glanced back over his shoulder. The man ran pell-mell, sliding over the polished floor toward them. Pink spit slicked the side of his face and hung in sticky threads from his jaw. His hands reached for Neil. Neil shoved Shay further ahead and she toppled her friend. Neil caught the door and swung around behind it, holding it open.

  The man growled and sprang at him. Neil smashed his fist into the man’s shoulder and he tilted sideways. Neil cried out in pain as one of his stitches popped, but still bashed the man with the door to push him farther in. Another smash and the door was closed. Neil pressed his back against it even as the man inside flung himself at the glass.

  “Oh no,” cried Shay’s friend, “that was our shelter.”

  Neil didn’t know whether to apologize or not.

  “Better this way, Maisy,” groaned Shay, picking herself up. “Gift shop wasn’t exactly the best place to hide. Quick, lock it so he can’t get loose again.”

  Maisy stood up, fumbling in the pockets of her tidy blue apron. The door banged against Neil’s back and he tried to jam himself against it more tightly. Maisy flinched and the keys rang lightly.

  “Get it locked,” he told her, trying to be patient. “Won’t be able to hold it too much longer. He’ll be able to break the glass before long either way. We need to get away from here.”

  She nodded and reached past him. The door jiggled with another impact. “Can’t lock it if he keeps opening it,” she said.

  Shay pressed her hands against the door, helping Neil hold it closed. “Now,” she said, “lock it now.”

  The key twisted and snapped. Maisy burst into tears, holding up the stump. “It’s okay,” said Neil, feeling the thud as the man threw himself into the door. “It’s locked, you did it.” He took a tentative step from the door, half expecting it to fly open, but it held. Maisy cried harder. Neil leaned against a wall to catch his breath and stop his legs from shaking so badly.

  “Poor Dan. How’re they going to get him out?”

  Shay put her arm around the other woman. “Don’t worry. When they figure this out, they’ll get a locksmith or go in through the window. Dan’ll be okay. Let him just— just cool off. We need to get somewhere safe.”

  “Need to get out of the building,” said Neil. “There’s— more like him up on the third floor. If— if this is the same thing. And I heard gunshots. Lots of them.”

  “Can’t get out,” Shay whispered, creeping down the hallway while Maisy clutched her arm, “they’ve got cops and who knows what outside. Under quarantine, they told us. We have to wait it out. They sent a group in. That was yesterday. Had us holed up in the conference rooms while they went through the other floors to deal with— whatever this is.” Shay shook her head. Neil trailed after her. “Haven’t seen them since. And then last night, one of the guys they left to guard us just— lost it. Attacked one of the lab techs. Everyone scattered in little groups. Maisy and Dan and I— we were okay until this morning.” She glanced back at the gift shop door as it shuddered again. “Gotta find somewhere to hole up. I need some bandages. Probably a tetanus shot. Going to the cafe. There’s food there and water. Who knows how long this’ll last? Anyone still— normal will show up there eventually, looking for food or people. And it’s better than standing around here waiting for another one of the crazies to find us, anyway.”

  “Quarantine? For what?” whispered Neil. He was utterly lost, but neither woman answered him. None of it made any sense, but he had no idea what else to do and they were headed back toward the hospital entrance anyway, so he followed them to the end of the corridor. Maisy wiped her eyes with the back of a hand but stayed silent. Shay peered around the corner to the lobby. She turned back to them and held a finger to her lips. She pointed across the large open area to the large, cheery doors with a cursive “cafe” painted over them. Neil didn’t see anyone in the lobby. It made him nervous that she indicated they should be quiet when he couldn’t see anyone. He craned to look around the corner. He could see the front doors. It sent a deep chill through him to see the golden-yellow of fresh plywood pressed against the glass where they’d been nailed. They truly were trapped here. This is insane. This isn’t how quarantines work, is it? They don’t just dump you and let you battle it out, what the hell is that? But what if they did? It’s a hospital, he told himself, there must be other doors. Loads of them. Fire doors and delivery doors and— cafeteria, we’re going to the cafeteria. All kitchens had at least one door to the outside. There had to be a door they missed. Or a window. He just had to slip out. Talk to the police or whoever was in charge. They must not know—

  Shay pulled his wrist again, breaking him out of his panic. She crouched down, crept across the lobby carpet, stopping behind one of the couches while Neil and Maisy caught up. The bite marks on her arms were oozing blood, and she was sweating heavily and grimacing in pain. Forget it, he warned himself. Not your problem. Shay slid a ring of keys from her pocket, careful to keep them pressed against her thigh so they wouldn’t rattle.

  “Just a second. Catch my breath and find the key. We’ll be inside before you know it,” she whispered.

  “How do we know there aren’t more of them in there?” Neil whispered.

  “Locked it up myself last night when they grabbed us and took us to the conference room. There was nobody in there and the police told me to keep the keys. I wanted to make sure we had enough food for the quarantine.” Maisy’s arm brushed Shay’s and she hissed through her teeth in pain. She’s in trouble, he told himself. We’re all in trouble. How on Earth are we supposed to stay here? They can’t just leave us like this—

  “Let’s go,” whispered Shay, clenching a fist around the keys. Neil peered over the back of the couch. Nothing that he could see. Shay glanced up at him and he nodded. Maisy helped her to her feet and they dashed to the door. Shay jabbed the key into the lock. Maisy clawed at the handle almost before the key had turned, but there’d been no need to panic. It swung silently open without anyone or anything wandering into the lobby. Shay locked it again behind them.

  “We should move away from the glass. I don’t see anyone but— might be best not to announce ourselves. At least not before we’ve had a minute to breathe.” She led the way through the dark room, instinctively threading between tables Neil could barely see. Maisy slammed a hip into one with a thud that seemed loud in the still room.

  “They could have left the skylight unboarded at least,” she whispered, rubbing her bruised leg. “Doesn’t even open anyway.”

  They passed through a swinging door and Shay closed it completely behind them before flipping on the bright kitchen lights.

  “Seems like you’ve had practice at hiding from— whatever this is,” Neil observed.

  “It’s been a long night,” sighed Maisy, shoving a kitchen towel into the crack at the bottom of the door. Neil pushed deeper into the kitchen, looking for any door or window. Plywood pressed against the windows near the pantry. Neil found the back door but he rattled the handle in frustration after finding it locked. “Don’t you have the key to this?” he called back to the others. Shay just sagged onto a hard wooden stool that was shoved between the corner of the line and the tiled wall.

  “Won’t do you any
good anyway. There’s wood over it too.”

  He came back to the prep line. “We can kick through it. Or— Jesus it’s a kitchen, there’s got to be something in here to use to cut it off.”

  Shay shook her head. “You think Maisy and I haven’t already looked over the whole kitchen for an open exit? Yeah, we could probably break down the wood, but what then? You think they just boarded it over and walked away?” She pointed to a glassed-in room. “See for yourself. Computer’s in the office, look us up. The television broadcasts are bullshit, but the local people know what’s going on. Been posting pictures of this place. And phone calls. There are soldiers outside. Not just three guys from the local PD sitting by their car, real soldiers. A lot of them. Go look.”

  He followed Maisy into the little kitchen office and stood behind her as she pulled up pictures of the hospital. The entire front was paneled with fresh plywood. Several military jeeps were parked across each spot where an entrance should be. Maisy found a video someone had taken of a group of people trying to get to the hospital. They shouted at a large group of grim-faced officers who blocked their path to the hospital.

  “It’s for your protection,” said a nervous man in a lab coat. “Until we isolate what’s causing the outbreak, we can’t risk exposing—”

  “My mother is in there!” cried one of the people.

  “If your mother was stable and her exposure was unlikely, she’s been evacuated to—”

  Someone shoved the man in the lab coat and the video abruptly exploded into shouts before cutting out.

  “This is only the front of the hospital,” said Neil.

  Maisy looked back at him. “Those soldiers have weapons. You think they’d be standing there with weapons in the front and leave the back unguarded?”

  “They aren’t going to use those. They’re just for show. This is— this is illegal, isn’t it? They can’t keep us in here like this. We haven’t done anything wrong.”