by Ben S Reeder
“That’s the million dollar question. The sixty four million dollar question is what were they fighting about? And why were they fighting in a hospital?” The round on the roof didn’t have the dimple of being hit by a firing pin, so I was pretty certain it wasn’t a dud. Kaplan came back with an armload of gear, including the dead man’s vest. He set it all down and pulled something out of the pile.
“Hernandez, put those on. Stewart, since you already appropriated the pistol, take these. Miss Weiss, this might be a little heavy, but I’d like you to put this on.” He held out a pair of ammo pouches to me and waved Amy over to him and hefted the stripped down assault vest. It covered less area, and I was guessing it was made more for mobility. To her credit, she didn’t make a face at the blood on the vest, but she did grumble when Kaplan strapped it onto her. I checked the ammo pouches and found six magazines for the SOCOM.
“What are these?” Hernandez asked as she held up the black object the lieutenant had handed her. “Forearm guards?”
“Yes, corporal, and I expect you to wear them. Have you been trained on the MP5?” She shook her head as she slipped the plastic arm guards on and pulled the Velcro tabs to secure them. “Then I’ll carry the SMG. Okay people, the plan is to get out of the building and get to a place we can hole up for the night. Come morning, we’ll scout the area and find a way to get out of the city. From there, we head to the rendezvous point in Wyoming.”
“Uh, have you actually looked down?” Amy asked from the edge of the roof. All three of us trotted over to her and looked over the side. The street below was packed with infected. Hernandez and I turned and gave Kaplan a wry look.
“Any other bright ideas, sir?” Hernandez asked.
“Actually, yes,” Kaplan said as he looked to our left and pointed. “We get across the walkway there and to the other side of the far building and see what it looks like over there.” From behind us we could hear the pop of distant gunfire. I looked over my shoulder and weighed the odds of the people with guns being friendly. At least with the infected, things were always simple. They were going to try to eat you, and you were going to either be lunch, run, or try to bash their heads in. People had a tendency to be unpredictable and sneaky. You never knew if someone you just met was going to have your back in a fight or try to cut your throat in your sleep. Personally, I preferred taking my chances with the infected.
“Yeah, that’s not going to be a walk through hell, now is it?” I said. “It isn’t like we have a better option, unless someone forgot to mention being able to fly.” No one raised their hand, so we headed back to the stuff we had salvaged from the chopper. When we got there, Kaplan opened the ammo box and handed me a length of linked ammo.
“That’s all that was left from the port side gun. Stow it in your pack, and hang on to your empty magazines. You’ve got five days of food in there, too.” I tossed the linked rounds into the pack and put it on, then handed Amy the cache tube. She slung it like I’d shown her, across her left shoulder to leave her right arm unencumbered, then slung the Ruger above it. Hernandez reached over my shoulder and pulled the tube for the water reservoir on my pack so that it hung down over my left shoulder. I immediately grabbed it and lifted it over my head so it fell on the other side.
“You’re a lefty, huh?” she said as she helped me adjust it. When I nodded, she grabbed the rifle they’d given me and started making adjustments to the sling.
“Terminally,” I said as I pulled the SOCOM and dropped the magazine into my hand. The cut out showed it was half full, so I pulled one of the spares and dropped the old mag in upside down so I could tell by feel which one it was. Kaplan had foregone an M16 and was carrying the suppressed MP5 slung across his chest, and when Hernandez slung my rifle, it hung barrel down behind my left arm, ready to pull forward. She gave me a nod and a slap on the shoulder, then gave the lieutenant a thumbs up.
“Okay, sidearms only inside,” he said as he prepped a pair of thermite charges. “I’m in the lead; Hernandez, keep these two between us. Miss Weiss, keep your pistol holstered please. Mr. Stewart, don’t shoot at anything unless I tell you to, and only use the pistol. Aim for the head.”
“You know, this isn’t the first time I’ve done this,” I said as I switched on the laser aiming module below the SOCOM’s barrel. Now as soon as my finger touched the trigger, I had an aim point.
“What’s your kill count?” Hernandez asked as she drew her pistol.
“Not counting the ones on the roof, about a hundred. I won’t accidentally shoot you in the ass, okay?”
“Fair enough,” Kaplan said. “But you’re still a civilian, and I’m still the officer in charge here. Your safety is my responsibility, so do as I say, and we’ll all make it out of here.” He stepped up to the chopper and pulled the pin on the first charge. He tossed it into the rear of the chopper and pulled the pin on the second one, tossing it into the front.
“Whatever you say, lieutenant,” I told him as the charges ignited. With a sweep of my hand, I stepped aside and gestured toward the open section of the building. “Hell awaits. Lead the way.” He headed for the opening with the Blackhawk burning behind us, a pyre for the fallen.
Chapter 2
Nightmare Fuel
~ Horror is beyond the reach of psychology ~ Theodor Adorno
Hell, as it turned out, was decorated in bright, cheerful colors. With pictures of bright, happy kids on the walls, and little yellow footprints on the floors. As we made it to the first landing, the true horror sank in: We weren’t at Truman Medical Center. Where we were was much worse. Kaplan turned away from the door with the big purple circle around a bright yellow six and pointed toward the next flight of stairs. I nodded. Whatever he’d seen through the narrow rectangle of glass had turned his face an ashen shade and his eyes looked like they’d picked up about five hundred yards of a thousand yard stare. I kept myself between Amy and the door as we started down the steps, but I couldn’t help myself; I looked back. A small, red handprint was framed against the glass. Right in the center of a star shaped fracture in the wire embedded safety glass. Next to it was a green C.
We hustled past the second door, but not fast enough to keep from hearing the moans of infected from the other side. And if they sounded a little higher pitched to our ears, none of us said anything about it. That door had a green X painted on it. At the third door we paused. It stood ajar, and a green X was painted across it. By now, I thought I understood the markings. X meant danger. Infected inside. C meant cleared.
“Fuck,” Kaplan muttered as he stared at the open door. This was our stop. I looked down the middle of the stairwell. Below us I could see movement and the faint moans of zombies, the second stage infected, reached my ears. Kaplan flinched when I tapped him on the shoulder and pointed down, but he copied my movement and nodded, then brought the MP5 up and peered through the small gap. After a moment, he nudged it open with his left foot and stepped through. I stepped in on his left and found myself facing a blank wall with a pair of wood double doors with crash bars on them. Windows stretched along the wall across from me, and we found ourselves looking down a broad hallway in front of Kaplan. The double doors on my left had a big X painted across them and a padlocked chain wrapped around the bars. With my side cleared, I turned to look at the rest of the hallway. Two reception desks were set on either side of another hallway that led further into the building, facing the windows. Chairs and benches were laying on the floor near the windows closer to us, leaving a broad, clear path from the hallway toward the stairs. Further on, I could see a couple of chairs knocked over, but otherwise the waiting area looked undisturbed. No infected leaped at us or even shambled around.
Kaplan took a slow step forward, and I stayed even with him. We advanced into the area to see…nothing. No undead. The smell of them was thick in the air, that cloying stench of rot and the moldy smell of the grave, but I didn’t see any of them. When we got to the open hallway between the desks, I saw why.
The
two desks were reception areas for a pair of doctors’ offices, but further back I could see the double doors of an inpatient ward, too. The metal doors were blocked open, and the floor beyond was littered with corpses in scrubs. Bullet holes marked the walls, and brass casings were all over the floor. The lieutenant kept moving toward the ward, so I followed him. We stopped at the threshold of the doors and just stared. Bodies covered the floor, most of them in brightly colored scrubs. I picked up one of the brass casings. It was too big to be a pistol round, and the butt end of it told me it was a 5.56 round. So, in addition to the team we’d seen on the roof, someone was most likely in here with M16s or M4s.
“Cover me,” I said after a couple of moments as my gaze fell on something that looked out of place among the scrubs. A black combat boot was sticking out from behind the nurse’s station. I crouched and hustled forward, gun up, finger next to the trigger. When I stuck my head around the corner I could see the rest of the soldier’s body, and I could see that he was dead. The bullet hole under his chin made me pretty sure he wasn’t going to be getting back up. His M9 was dangling from his right hand, but what was next to his left hand was much more important. I reached out and snatched the compact video camera from beside his body, then grabbed the clip board beneath it. Once I had them in hand, I couldn’t get back to the doorway fast enough.
As I turned to leave, I heard a rattling sound from behind the desk. I came up and found myself facing a door marked “Linens.” The SOCOM slid up as whoever…or whatever…was behind the door started banging on it. The noise seemed to start a chain reaction. A slow, rhythmic thumping started from another door behind me, then from another further down. Dignity and poise went out the window, and I bolted. The second my feet cleared the doorway, Kaplan kicked the doorstops out from under one side of the doors, and Hernandez knocked the other free. Once the doors closed, I grabbed the doorstops and slid them in place, blocking those doors form opening from the inside.
“Oh, God,” Amy said from behind us. I looked back at her to see her raise one shaking hand and point at the doors. A big green X had been painted on them.
“Holy shit,” Hernandez said. “Who opened those damn things?”
“National Guard,” I said as I held up the clipboard. A bumper sticker for the Kansas National Guard was stuck diagonally across the back of it. Secured under the clip was a list of names. Most of them had check marks beside them. “I think they went in to get the kids in the ward out.” Kaplan took the camera from me and started fiddling with it. Moments later, it came to life. I could hear gunfire and voices as the playback went on, but Kaplan shut it off after a few seconds.
“They were using the camera to identify the kids later,” he said as he tucked it into his vest.
“That’s fucking hard core,” Hernandez said as she looked back at the doors.
“Let’s keep moving. We still have to get out of this house of horrors,” Kaplan said quietly. We fell in behind him without a word. When we got to the walkway, he brought his gun up and kept it pointed in front of him. Dead infected lay all along the way, leaving dark stains in the beige carpet. Everyone followed his example, and we walked across slowly until we were facing a sign that read Truman Medical Center. One door was wide open, held in place by a body in a hospital gown slumped against it. The other door was closed and bore what looked to me like half of an X on it. I looked down and saw red dots on the stone surface of the walkway, some smeared. The dead operator on the roof had come this way, I was pretty sure. I spared a look at the body and did a double take. Misshapen lumps covered his face and arms, and judging by the way the gown was draped across him, he was sporting them all over his body. His left arm was covered in them up past his shoulder. Blossoms of red were scattered across his body, and I could see where he’d taken a round in the eye.
“Should he have an ear there?” Amy asked. I followed her gesture, and saw that she was pointing at his right leg. A bloody but perfectly formed ear looked like it had erupted from one of the massive tumors on his shin.
“Should he?” I said. “Probably not, but there’s a lot of that going around lately.” Kaplan pressed on, but I could see his jaw unclench a little. We passed through the door and kept going down the hallway until it T’d. More bodies littered the floor, most with head shots, some sporting wounds to the chest as well, and brass all over the ground. The sign on the wall across from us pointed to the emergency room, the oncology, cardiac, and the Sikes Neurological Research unit on the left, and the UMKC School of Medicine on the right. Just as we’d done when we came out of the stairwell, Kaplan looked right and I looked left. The trail of bodies continued between me and the door at the far end of the hallway.
“Clear my way,” I said softly.
“Mine, too,” the lieutenant said. “We go left from here. The ER is usually close to the main entrance.” We made our way through the bodies and finally got to the open double doors. Hallways opened up on both sides of us as we entered the next building, and Kaplan stopped, then went to his right. When the hall made an L and turned back to the left, he stopped again and held his hand up to stop me. I froze in place behind him, and I caught movement at the edge of my vision. Before he could poke his head around the corner, I grabbed his shoulder and turned him to face me, then pointed to the curved mirror mounted in the corner. In its rounded surface, we could see several infected wandering around in the hallway.
With a nod he led us back the other way and checked the mirror on the other side. Only a couple of infected were visible, and he hefted his submachine gun and looked to me. My thumb went to the SOCOM’s safety and I gave him a thumbs up. We stepped around the corner, guns up. The SOCOM’s laser aiming module activated as soon as my finger touched the trigger, and I put the green dot on the back of the skull of the infected on the left. Kaplan’s gun barked first, and the zombie on the right went down. I stroked the trigger on my pistol, and it gave a sound like a cough. My target dropped like a puppet with the strings cut. Kaplan lowered his gun, but the feeling between my shoulder blades made me keep mine just below my line of sight. When the ghoul came around the corner, I brought the laser sight across to its chest and pulled the trigger twice as it drew in a breath. It jerked back as the rounds hit it, then tried to draw in another breath. Kaplan put a trio of rounds into it as I heard the raspy sound. While it was recoiling from the SMG’s rounds, I brought the dot up to its nose and pulled the trigger again. Kaplan put three rounds into another zombie’s chest as it stumbled into view, then another three into its head, and silence fell for a few more seconds.
Behind us we heard Hernandez curse a split second before the sharp report of her pistol sounded. Half a heartbeat later, the crack of Amy’s revolver joined it. Kaplan went to join them, turning to me for a moment as he passed.
“Watch our six!” he ordered before he went around the corner. No sooner had he disappeared than a zombie in a patient gown emerged from one of the doors on the left side of the hall. My first two shots went wide, but the third blew the top of his head off. Three more were in the hall by then. The laser sight was no match for shaking hands and mobile targets as I tried to line up head shots, and the first two took more shots than they should have. The slide locked back after my first shot as the last one tore out a chunk of its throat but only managed to stop its moan. By then it was less than ten feet away. Without time to reload, I dropped the gun and reached over my shoulder for the Deuce. It slid free of the leather sheath and I gripped it in both hands before I swung. The blade sliced in a flat arc and slammed into the zombie’s skull with a satisfying crunching sound. The blade ended up embedding itself halfway through the thing’s cranium, and when I pulled it free the zombie just stood there for a couple of seconds before it dropped.
“Stewart, you okay?” I heard Hernandez ask from behind me.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I called back as a feeling of elation swept over me.
“I heard you yell,” she said. “You sure you didn’t get bit or …whoa
. Oo-rah,” she said as she drew even with me and saw the zombie on the floor in front of me.
“Yeah, I’m fine,” I repeated. “Is Amy okay?”
“Yeah, she’s good. They never got close. Man, I’ve gotta get me one of those,” she said before she turned and went back around the corner. I wiped the Deuce clean on the zombie’s hospital gown and sheathed it, then picked up the SOCOM. The empty mag dropped into my hand smooth as you please, and the next full one slid into place. Nothing sounded off when the slide clicked forward, and I counted my blessings that the SOCOM was a tough weapon.
When Kaplan and the others came back to join me, Amy was practically vibrating. She wrapped me up in a quick, tight hug before she started talking. “Oh, God, Dave, I was so scared! I shot like you taught me, slow and smooth, but I missed some. But I got one like ten feet away!”
“She’s a good shot,” Hernandez said. “Better than Lieutenant Gung-Ho here, that’s for sure.”
“She is,” Kaplan agreed. “A good shot, I mean. Better than me, that’s hard to say, but yeah, she killed her fair share of them.”
“Did you reload?” I asked Amy. She nodded quickly. “The pistol too?” Her face went blank for a moment, then she shook her head. “Go ahead and do that now. Don’t worry, you did good.” She pulled back and started to reload the revolver as I looked into the room the ghoul had come from. Lights were showing from the building across the way as twilight settled over the city. I turned away and looked up at the glowing fluorescent bulbs over my head.
“You look like a man with something on his mind,” Kaplan said.
