Wicked

by John M. Davis

  “And this is going to work?” Pam asked.

  “It should,” Rudy said with a bit of reluctance. “If something goes wrong, this plan could go south really quick. If that happens, get to the woods. Whoever makes it down – get to the woods and you'll have a chance.”

  “OK.” Lamar said. Pam nodded, as did Derick.

  “Everyone get ready.” Rudy said.

  Less than a minute later, the tune of Danger Zone began blaring out like an outdoor music festival. And be it their love for eighties music or rabid hunger, the infected took an interest. They began sprinting toward the house with strings of saliva hanging loose. Their teeth thirsted for fresh blood.

  Damn, I love that movie. Rudy thought.

  Derick repelled down as best he could, and didn't do so bad for a man who'd never climbed down a rope before. Perhaps it was the music, which forced adrenaline to pop its way through his veins.

  Pam struggled. There were several moments when she held tight and refused to move. Finally, she made her way down to find Derick smashing the butt of his rifle into the skull of a straggler. Apparently even the dead had their own personal tastes in music. Lamar was the quickest, sliding down as much of the rope as he did climb, burning the palms of his hands in the process. With the music video nearly over, gunshots fired off upstairs. Rudy pulled himself out of the window but kicked back wildly at the dead, who'd managed to finally bust their way through the barricade at the top of the steps.

  He grabbed hold of the rope with one hand, shooting his 9mm pistol with the other. An act that kicked him away from the safety of the rope. Instead, Rudy fell to the ground. He landed on his feet, but immediately his right knee buckled beneath him from the impact. Just as the music stopped playing.

  “Go!” he yelled. Waving the group on.

  “You both go,” Derick said. Pointing his friends into the right direction. “I'll go back and help him!”

  Lamar led Pam away, into what they hoped would be the safety of the treeline nearby. At least they wouldn't be out in the open.

  Derick sprinted back to Rudy, who lay there with pain across his face. His teeth clenched. The impact had fractured him pretty badly.

  “I blew my knee out.”

  “I got this,” Derick said. He hoisted the group's bag of supplies over his shoulder and reached down to help Rudy to his feet. Suddenly, he took the man's pistol and tucked it into the back of his own pants. “Lisa's dead because of you.”

  Rudy looked at him with confusion.

  “She trusted both of us to protect her. Lisa loved me when no one else would, and now she's gone.”

  Derick quickly planted his shoe into the injured man's chest and knocked him to his back. The howling of rots grew increasingly loud. They would find the men in mere moments. And that's when Derick left Rudy to die – never looking back. He didn't need to. He could hear zombies ripping at the crying man's flesh apart. The zombies had opted to dive onto the fallen man, rather than chase Derick. In his mind, Lisa had been avenged.

  ** **

  A.K and Carlos had taken their time in clearing the hospital rooms in front of them. Rushing led to trouble and in a hospital that was dimly lit with backup lighting only, trouble could lead to death. They'd encountered several infected, but not nearly as many as they'd expected. It was a large building – they'd guess that with unlocked doors, they would have plenty of company. But found that the hospital was in pretty good condition, considering. Carlos even joked at the fact that the infected didn't have insurance cards.

  Slowly, both worked their way up each floor of the hospital's wings. They'd entered on the ground floor or the Emergency Department and now found themselves in Cardiology, which was even less eventful. Aside from a single infected who look half-starved, they found nothing but stale air.

  Finally, they reached the Critical Care unit, which was on the top floor of the hospital. There were other buildings on the large campus, but they'd worked their way through the first with very little action.

  Reaching out slowly, Carlos nodded and then gently pushed against the two wooden doors. They were large and had the type of flat steel instead of handles that can typically be found inside of hospitals. A.K. went in first – rifle at the ready.

  They found five survivors huddled around the nurse's station, playing cards.

  “Wanna shut the door back before all of the heat gets out?” one of them asked.

  A.K. stood – dumbfounded. Carlos was quick to join him.

  “Hey, Tweedledee and Tweedledum...shut the fucking door.” the man said once more, insisting upon it this time around.

  A.K. slowly released the door and allowed it to swing back into its closed position, clicking in the process.

  “Thank you.”

  Both rifle-brandishing survivors stood near the door in silence. Nothing looked out of place. The small group looked normal.

  “You can stand there with stupid on your face,” the man said. “Or you can come over here and take a seat. There's coffee over by the wall.”

  “Regular or decaf?” Carlos asked.

  “Regular or decaf?” the man began laughing. “Do you believe this fucking guy?”

  “Sorry. I've got this sensitivity when it comes to caffeine...especially when the dead are WALKING!”

  “Whoa now.” the man said. Finding that Carlos was quick to saddle his rifle to the ready. Wanting answers.

  “Please,” an older man said. Standing to his feet, he raised a hand to Carlos. “Just put the guns down and come sit. We can explain.”

  Fuck him and his gun. The mouthier of the group thought. Choosing to concentrate on his cards instead.

  “This I gotta hear.” A.K. replied.

  He skipped the coffee and immediately sat down in a seat nearby. He placed his rifle in his lap but knew that his Glock pistol was close enough – just in case.

  “We saw you pull up,” the older gentleman said. He spoke like someone trying to sell sports jackets on television. “It riled the infected up, that's for sure. We were all betting on your making it inside.”

  “You assholes cost me three packs of smokes.” the mouthy one snapped.

  “The loud one, that's Gordon Ford,” the older man said. “Beth Sayers, our receptionist; Candice Mills, nurse; Jimmy Rodd, security guard and I'm Doctor Drake Mcentire.”

  “You forgot Gordon's job here?” Carlos said. Keen on details.

  “Here?” Gordon asked. “He wore a scruffy beard on his face and an olive-green military-style jacket without the official patches. “No man. I'm a truck driver. I was delivering shit here when it broke out. I didn't want to die in the cab of my work truck.”

  “He found the top floor pretty quickly. The rest of us were already here. We saw you drive up and start running.” Candice said. The one thing that stuck out about her was the fact that she was so damn young. Her work badge read RN, but a random eye would have pegged her at nineteen or twenty. She had certainly taken care of herself.

  “The doors can be unlocked from the nurse's station,” Beth added. She, too, was rather attractive. Though a bit older. “Even with the power out, we have some of the things we need. A security monitor, emergency flood lighting and the essentials. Things like the locks on our doors and wireless – not that our phones are working.”

  “It's regular,” Carlos confirmed. “But it's OK. I haven't slept much. I suppose I could use the boost.”

  A.K. glanced at his friend with shame for a moment. Then, turning back to the group playing cards, he asked. “So you've been here the whole time?”

  “Yep,” Jimmy replied. His skin was as black as the security uniform he wore, complete with a shiny silver badge and a shitty looking sidearm. “We've been doing the best we can. So far, we've got plenty of room and enough supplies to go around.”

  “It won't last,” Carlos said. “I mean...it's pretty bad out there. I don't really know about the rest of the United States, but-”

  “It's torn to pieces,” Gordon admitt
ed. “The television in the lounge worked for almost a day after the infection broke out. Last we heard, the United States, Russia, China, Germany, France and Japan were the only countries left standing. North Korea, Saudia Arabia and Australia had just fallen.”

  “Actual governments, mind you,” Doctor Mcentire butted in. “I'm sure there are still people scattered across the globe, holding out. But those are the only functional governments left. The last we heard, our acting president is Secretary of State Wilson Rigley. And he'd hole up in the Midway Atoll Islands.”

  “Secretary of-” A.K. began. “You mean President Saunders-”

  “Killed within a few hours of the infection,” the doctor replied. “Washington was one of the first places to show signs and they remain one of the hardest hit cities...that we know of, anyway. As we said, it's been a few days.”

  “So this is global?” Carlos asked. He'd already thought that it was.

  “Yes,” the doctor said. “Some sort of flu virus. The news programs admitted a major problem with the flu vaccine they rushed to market as well.”

  “How's that?” A.K. asked.

  “For whatever reason, the flu seems to turn normal people into those things chasing you outside-”

  “Zombies.” Carlos said.

  “Yes,” Doctor Mcentire seemed uncomfortable using the term. “As you probably already know, they are mindless and while certainly still a threat...they don't seem to be intelligent. But the flu vaccine not only failed to protect those who took it, but they were overcome with infection and they retain the ability to think.”

  “Smart ones,” A.K. said. “Just like Rudy was saying.”

  “I think he called them alphas.”

  “I'm not sure what they're technically called,” the doctor said. “But with a desire for human flesh and intelligence to back them up, these things are formidable opponents.”

  “So there's no cure?” Carlos asked.

  “No. That's the bad news.” Doctor Mcentire replied.

  “And the good news?”

  “If any of us were going to be infected, we would have been by now. A small population is either completely immune or has been subjected to the flu in very small doses, which I believe allows our bodies to build an immunity against the virus.”

  “So we're not going to become one of those?” A.K. pointed to the window.

  “No,” the doctor insisted. “They can certainly kill you. But as far as turning you, no. You could be bitten all day long and your biggest concern would become proper bandaging of the wound and maybe some antibiotics.”

  “We're using the first eight rooms as our own bunks and supply rooms. Those sorts of things. But rooms nine through twelve are open,” Gordon said. “You guys are welcome to grab a couple of 'em.”

  “Maybe after you rest you can tell us about life outside.” the doctor smiled.

  A.K. glanced over to see Carlos nodding off, while still holding a cup of coffee.

  “I'm sorry,” A.K. said. “We haven't slept much since this all began.”

  “Well, you're safe here. Get some rest.”

  And they planned to, though they'd get it in shifts. They didn't plan on dropping their guard anytime soon.

  Chapter 8

  What had I done?

  As I sat there, watching Pam and Lamar go through what few supplies we had, I looked around at the trees which surrounded us perfectly. We'd run for a long time; long enough that my adrenaline was gone. My hatred was gone. We'd put several miles between ourselves and the neighborhood that had almost consumed us.

  “You OK?” Pam asked.

  I nodded. Looking down, there was dried blood caked on my hands, while dirt and desperation covered the rest of me. I had left a man to die. And worst of all, I'd thought it through. I knew that eventually, Rudy's ass would be in a sling somehow. I didn't know the exact time or place, hell, what did I know? Nothing...other than the fact that Lisa would likely be alive right now if not for his bluntness.

  Was she our group's weak link? Of course. But I sat there on that large stump, which had been hollowed out with age and thought back to my days as a child. I could still remember the talks my father gave me.

  Protect the weak. He'd say. In that particular case, friends of mine were being bullied and it was up to me to do something. Now, with wicked walking what seemed like every goddam inch of ground on the planet, protecting the weak had become a matter of looking after those who weren't as strong.

  In this case, Lisa.

  She could still be alive! And in that moment, I no longer regretted my actions. To hell with Rudy and his aviator's smile. In his realm of reasoning, the weak should be trimmed off to save the strong. That's exactly what I had done – left his weak ass there to die. It had bought us just enough time to get away from there alive.

  “Here,” Pam said. There was obviously hurt in her eyes as she handed me a bottle of room temperature water. I could see the loss of Rudy in her eyes. “Are you sure everything's OK?” she questioned.

  “We're alive.” I replied.

  It was honestly the first time since the zombie outbreak, or whatever in the fuck it was, that Pam and I had any time to ourselves. Lamar was pulling his share of watch. He hadn't agreed to it officially, but his hands shook like a man about to jump in ice cold water. There was the anticipation of death on his face. Lamar continued to watch the woods around us, waiting for the other shoe to drop.

  “How about you?” I asked.

  “I'm fine.” she lied.

  “You're not fine,” I said. Looking into her eyes in order to pry the truth away. “None of us are fine.”

  “As good as I can be, considering.”

  “I've always considered you close to me.” I admitted.

  She turned to look at me – waiting for more.

  “I need to tell you something and before I do, I need you to agree not to judge me. I'm still the guy who gave you a shitty perforated Valentine's Day card in the third grade.”

  “OK.” Pam replied with a smile.

  “I left Rudy there to die.”

  I don't know why I told her; I just blurted it out. It had to come out. The truth was inside of me, chewing away at my soul.

  “Don't blame yourself,” Pam nodded. “You did what you had to do.”

  “No,” I said. Staring at her with icy cold truth. “I could have saved his sorry ass, but I chose not to.”

  I could see a swirl of emotion in her eyes. There was a moment where she struggled with it, perhaps trying to think of a reason. Finally, she came to terms with it. And her eyes fell empty as a result.

  “Why?”

  “Because he is the reason Lisa is dead,” I argued. “And he would have left you just the same as he did her.”

  “She wasn't a survivor, Derick.”

  “But she had just as much right to live as we do,” I replied. “Yet here we sit and she's back there, probably picked clean to the bone.”

  I fully expected Pam to cry. Hell – something. Instead, her only response was to look away and watch the trees around us.

  “I don't know what to say.” she admitted.

  “Nothing needs to be said,” I replied. “What's done is done. There aren't many of the living left. Weak or not, we need to save the people we can. Rudy put himself in the position of deciding who lives and who dies. We can't do that.”

  After the words escaped my lips I realized how insane they sounded. I regretted them immediately. Perhaps I was insane.

  “We have to agree never to speak of this again...to anyone.” Pam said.

  I nodded with compliance.

  “I cared a lot for Lisa.” I admitted.

  Tears built up in my eyes a bit, but pride held them back.

  “I know.”

  “I want you to know that compared to what I feel for you – what I have felt for you for a very long time...”

  Pam looked at me in a way that I'd never seen her look before. Part of it was with investigation, it had to be. B
ut there was something else there, too. Something lay beneath the surface and I couldn't decide between fear or infatuation.

  I guessed I'd know soon enough.

  ** **

  Carlos lay on one of the hospital beds in a spare room. It was just as uncomfortable as he remembered, but to a man who'd slept virtually none over the span of a few days, it had felt like heaven.

  As his eyes cracked open, he could see A.K. standing guard.

  Well, sitting in one of the industrial chairs wrapped in fake red leather. It was typical for a busy hospital. Suddenly, a slight knock came to the door of their room. Not the kind you'd expect from company. The secretive type.

  A.K. sprang to his feet and shouldered his rifle for a moment. Carlos sat up and did what he could to squint his lethargic eyes back to life.

  “Candice?” A.K. asked.

  She stepped inside without asking. Hiding from something.

  “I need to know who you two really are.”

  “What?” A.K. asked. “We told you-”

  She pulled a small gun, extending it in front of her with a single arm, which shook like a fragile leaf against hard window.

  “Whoa now.” A.K. began.

  “I need to know the truth.”

  Carlos and A.K. exchanged a long look, finally agreeing without speaking.

  “He's a prison guard...just like he said.” Carlos admitted.

  “And you?”

  “I'm the guy he was transporting when all of this shit broke out.”

  Candace stared at him for a moment, trying to piece it together.

  “Is that a problem?”

  “No,” she admitted. Taking a moment to swallow and exhaling slowly. “I needed something on you before I gave information.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “I'm not Candice Mills and I'm not a nurse,” she began. Pausing briefly. “My name is Brooke Armstrong. I'm a student at UNC Charlotte and I'm here to get my medication refilled. Before I knew it, all of this-”