by Ricky Fleet
Jenny died, her eyes losing focus as her neck ran dry. Dr Christina was trapped. Being in the basement level below ground meant there were no windows for her to escape from. The velvet curtains that separated each viewing area would provide some camouflage, but if either monster looked around properly she would be discovered and devoured. The only chance of survival was the empty display coffin that the doctor should have been laying in. The wooden box was lined with soft fabric, embossed with gentle contours and frills for the carriage of the dead into the afterlife. She hurriedly climbed in, the creaking noises masked by the frenzied meal taking place only eight feet away. She lay down, placing her head on the small burial pillow and pulled the lid closed, the darkness taking her. The sounds of screaming began, muffled by the timber and padding of the box. Dr Christina held her breath, trembling in terror. She was sure the abominations could see the nervous vibrations and would pull open the lid, before ripping her to pieces.
The chaos was growing by the second, shouts and screams were followed by smashing glass in the corridor outside. She wanted to jump out of the stifling box, her lungs ached with the stale air and she was certain she was suffocating. The coffin would be her final resting place she frantically thought to herself. Closing her eyes, which were useless in the tightly sealed coffin anyway, she tried to calm down. As a doctor, she knew the oxygen would last for a while, but she was in danger of hyperventilating. Self-preservation would mean nothing in the blind panic that claustrophobia and oxygen deprivation would create. Imagining she was tucked in bed, taking slow deep breaths and concentrating on happier times, she settled her racing heart. She pictured her parents’ warm smiles and loving, nurturing embrace. The coffin lurched with an impact and she almost screamed, but held it in. The footsteps moved away, taking the threat with it. She waited silently while the hospital died, the giver of life and care, now a source of spreading undeath.
Hours passed. The sounds of screaming and shouting, coupled with the occasional crash of breaking glass, was gone. The noise of moaning had replaced all other sound, penetrating the pine and padding of the wooden coffin. Christina breathed slowly through her mouth, wary that the rasping passage of air through her nostrils would alert them to her hiding place. Closing her eyes for a moment, she awoke again with a start. The urge to burst forth from the confinement engulfed her. Only by sheer willpower did she still her arms and keep them at her sides. How long had she been out? The noises had diminished to near silence. What she heard could have been her imagination, it was that faint.
“You can do this,” she told herself, and opened the lid by a single inch. From her horizontal position she couldn’t see the floor, but the room itself was deserted of anything standing. Gradually sitting erect like a Hollywood vampire from the coffin, she verified the room was empty. Taking the phone from her pocket, she dared to make a call now that she was alone. She tried security; nothing. The on call locum doctor; nothing. Her secretary; nothing. Emergency services; engaged.
“That’s not good,” she whispered, looking at the screen of her phone as it reported another engaged tone. Scrolling through the options she selected ‘vibrate’ from the menu to keep the ringtone muted. She considered trying to dial the police again, but she changed tact and dialled her parents instead. After ringing eight times the answerphone picked up. ‘You have reached the phone of Gail and Don Hargis, please leave a message and we will get back to you as soon as we can.’ The line beeped.
“Mum, Dad, it’s me. Pick up if you are there,” she waited. “Hello… hello… Ok I guess you are both out, please call me as soon as you get this.”
Christina thought for a moment about phoning her ex-husband. Her fingers hovered above the numbers but she couldn’t bring herself to press them. Adam was probably with that slut! Tears welled up in her eyes even amidst the horrific violence she had witnessed, she still loved him and hated herself for it.
“Bastard.”
The phone buzzed in her palm which caused her to drop it on the floor in shock. The carpet softened the impact and it lay there, vibrating by her foot. Picking it up, ‘Mum and Dad’ was displayed and she nearly dropped the handset again in her haste to answer.
“Hi, Chrissy, sorry we missed you, we were out on a bike ride, you know how your father insists on keeping fit,” her mum informed her.
“Thank God you are alright. Mum, something is happening, did you see anything strange while you were out? Have you seen anything on the news?” Christina asked.
“Not while we were riding, no. The TV says there is a lot of rioting going on again. It’s those teenagers I bet, ungrateful bloody lot. They don’t know how good they have it, back in my day…” she begun the usual diatribe at the youth of today and Christina smiled, imaging her mum stood in the hallway wagging her finger at her dad who would nod in agreement for an easier life.
“It’s not teenagers Mum, it’s much worse than that. I can’t explain it, but people are hurting each other, even killing. I want you both to lock the house tight and stay indoors until we find out more, ok?” she begged.
“We shall. We didn’t have any plans today did we, Don?” A muffled “Didn’t what?” sounded in the background from her father who was probably making a cup of tea in the kitchen. “Have plans, oh… never mind. We will stay here, don’t worry.”
“I will call you back shortly. I love you both so much, be safe,” she said, hanging up the call.
The phone was returned to her trouser pocket and she strained to hear any tell-tale signs of danger. The noises she had heard earlier were not repeated. Other parts of the hospital may be under attack; she couldn’t tell from the underground room. The floor was awash with the blood of her friend Jenny. The intern was long gone, either she had been completely consumed, which was impossible, or she was now prowling the area. Using the same caution, she pushed the mortuary door open, listening and checking before committing to the next room. The smell of death was in the air. In itself this wasn’t unusual; it was a mortuary after all. This was different though, an unidentified component mixed with the blood and waste. Checking every corner, she then moved towards the freezer. Carefully parting the plastic drapes that served to keep the chilled air within, a naked man was chewing at the body of the friendly orderly. Hearing the movement, the pale fleshed figure stood while swallowing the tender mouthful. She screamed at the grisly sight. Her reactions were lightning quick and only the first chords of the cry were heard before her hand silenced the betraying yell. She backed away and pivoted quickly, ready to flee for the main door. Logic imposed its will and she skidded to a halt just before the exit.
“No,” she said to the frosted glass of the swinging doors.
The man had pushed through and walked forward, groaning. The gurney was the only obstacle that Christina could see in the room and she quickly positioned herself on the other side. A loose toe tag flapped on the tiled floor and she couldn’t help but think it looked like a macabre price tag. What does a body sell for in this day and age? Grave robbery had been a lucrative profession in the Victorian times when the knowledge of anatomy was in its infancy.
“Can you hear me?” she asked Mr Putney, the victim of an aggressive cancer who she had autopsied that morning. A gurgle and a stream of blood poured from the mouth.
“Guess not,” she answered herself and darted to the right, playing a game of cat and mouse with the dead man. Round and round the gurney they went, like an old slapstick comedy chase. The motion of the body was causing the stitches to unravel, tearing at the skin and opening like a coat zipper. The organs had been removed for testing and the abdomen flexed and gaped like an open mouth with red, wet lips of sliced muscle pouting. The lumps of Brian that had been consumed had gathered in the empty trunk and spilled out, hitting the floor. Christina was starting to tire but by sheer luck, the cadaver stepped on some of the pooled blood from the entrails dragging body. One leg shot forward and the other backwards, dropping him to the floor in the splits like a gymnast with a
sound of tearing muscle.
“Ooooh, that looks painful.” She laughed at the absurdity of the whole situation. Standing was proving troublesome for the monster and Christina took the chance to tip the heavy steel table onto the thrashing figure. The edge crashed down, compressing the chest and the mangled ribs crunched as the full weight bore down. Now that the horror was safely incapacitated, she just stood and watched for a while.
“No blood, no vital organs and yet you won’t lie still,” she explained to the clutching creature. An idea formed in her mind, a crazy one she couldn’t deny, no matter how much she wanted to flee.
Pushing through into the freezer, Brian’s decapitated body leaned against the racking and his chewed head was upside down in the middle of the room. Christina caught sight of the blinking eyes and the way it opened and closed its mouth, silently screaming.
“Oh, Brian, I am so sorry,” she apologised without knowing why. It could have been guilt at her survival, or the loss of so many friends in such a short space of time.
Turning around, Christina walked to the entrance and locked all the doors via the magnetic emergency seal, effectively isolating herself in the gruesome room. It was designed for the possibility that she discovered a communicable pathogen or other virus. Her terror had dropped only a couple of notches and her inquisitive nature had climbed several to compensate. She returned to the freezer with an instrument tray, laid it by Brian’s reanimated head and gently kicked it onto the shining surface. The tray slid across the tiled floor with the added propulsion of her shoe. The teeth were snapping like a set of joke teeth, chattering away with its need to feed.
“What are you?” she asked with fascination.
Lifting the tray onto the counter, she was careful not to let the head roll in case the champing mouth took a bite. Using a pair of tongs, the head was placed onto the plastic head block. Christina was spooked by the way the eyes followed her wherever she went, like an old haunted portrait painting. Picking up a scalpel she held apart the arteries and veins of the neck, seeing the tell-tale damage caused by teeth. The spinal vertebrae had been gnawed and small chunks of bone were missing. The face was in pieces but the skull and jaw were still intact.
“Zombies?” she laughed half-heartedly. Brian moved his lips but without lungs he couldn’t answer.
“What else could you be?” her answer left more questions.
Taking the knife, she cut the scalp and laid the top of the skull bare. The bone saw buzzed into life and it made short work of the bone, which was just as well because even the low hum could bring guests. She levered the dome free with a sickly pop and the brain was exposed. A green hue had formed on the mucus membrane that coated it.
“No pain,” she said and held the point of the scalpel by one of Brian’s eyes, pressing downward and piercing the orb.
“No fear either, you didn’t even blink.” She withdrew the razor sharp implement.
“One more test I suppose.” She pressed the spongy brain and sliced deeply with the blade. The one good eye rolled back and the mouth was motionless.
“Zombies… you’ve got to be shitting me.”
**********
Christina was hungrier than she had ever been. The packed lunches that she had found in the personal belongings of her colleagues were now gone. Two sandwiches, an apple, two yoghurts, and a bag of salted chips was not enough to sustain her through the previous days. The electricity was still working from the backup generator that the hospital utilized in event of a power failure. The magnetic sealed security door had held against the brief, disinterested searching of the zombies as they searched for fresh prey.
The smell of the festering bodies she had autopsied after they had died a second time was held in abeyance by the extraction system that still whirred away in the corner.
“How long has it been now?” she asked herself, looking at her watch. “Two days?”
She wondered if the hospital was totally abandoned. No one had come to investigate the events which meant things had probably gone badly, very quickly. Her stomach rumbled in complaint at the lack of sustenance within.
“I’m hungry too, stop complaining!” she chastised. “Well, I suppose we will just have to see what is out there, won’t we?”
She feared running into more of the moving dead, but feared slow death by starvation a great deal more. If she was ever going to get to her parent’s house, she needed to get out of the basement and see what was occurring in the ‘real world’ as she called it. Weapons were scarce; only knives and various bladed implements that were designed for precision instead of damage potential were at her disposal. The only thing that had been catching her eye was the slatted metal siding on the hospital gurney which could be raised or dropped to prevent the patient, or cadaver, from falling off.
“Ok, so it looks like I’m going to be a gladiator,” she mused, looking for a tool to undo the bolts that held it in place. The metal would make an excellent shield if she could tie it to her arm, leaving the other free for stabbing or bludgeoning in the event she ran into trouble.
Looking through the pockets of Brian’s headless body, she found what she was looking for. It was a multi tool that she had often seen him use to clean out his fingernails, not that they had needed cleaning. She had often teased him about the fact he had the loveliest nails in the whole hospital, the envy of secretaries up and down the wings. She missed his chuckle and his friendly manner. The head that sat on the inspection block was a travesty of the kind man he had been in life. Now that it had been stilled, she found herself crying and confiding in it, apologising for her decision to run instead of fight. Deep down she knew he wouldn’t harbour any ill will towards her, Percy on the other hand…
“Damn you, you cowardly piece of shit!” Christina cursed at the rotten bastard. She hoped that wherever he was, he had suffered for his actions.
The siding came off quickly and she bound it to her forearm with sterile tape and bandages to act as padding so it didn’t restrict the blood supply. Raising her arm, she tested for movement and it wasn’t as restrictive as she had feared.
“That’s good. Now how about a weapon?” she asked and the only things that could be used were either a stainless steel hammer or a long bladed surgical knife. The hammer was heavy but would need a few swings to do any damage, and the zombies were not known for just laying still while they were dispatched. The knife would serve her needs better and was sturdy enough to pierce flesh and bone if stabbed with sufficient force.
“We have a winner,” she said to herself and moved the gurney towards the entrance.
The time had come to do or die and she pressed the door release button with no hesitation. Pulling the door open, she took a quick peek and saw that the immediate hallway was clear of the dead. Their work was evident everywhere though, trails of blood and remains streaked the corridor from the chapel of rest as well as the autopsy room itself. Signs of her previous guests, the late Dr Keston and probably what had remained of Jenny, were on display. The gurney trundled in front, pushed ahead to act as a battering ram and give her some space from any attacker.
The rear wheel creaked with each turn, “You had to pick the bloody trolley with the dodgy wheel, didn’t you?” she complained to herself.
Around the corner was the side office that booked in and checked out each body, followed by the staircase that led to the main accident and emergency department. Cecil fell through the doorway of the office, seeking the source of the noise that disturbed his peaceful slumber. He was the guard on duty the morning of the apocalypse and had suffered no visible damage. The windows and door were streaked with congealed bloody mess where the escapees of the morgue had tried to reach him. A faulty heart valve had finished the elderly gentleman before he could be reached and the zombies had left him alone to turn.
“Hi, Cecil. You have seen better days, that’s for sure.” She felt growing pity at the fate of people she had once called friends.
“I don’t suppose yo
u want to let me past for old times’ sake?” Christina asked but the growling and look of intense hunger from Cecil gave her the answer. She took a run and the squeaky wheel creaked like mad until she connected with his body, knocking him down. His thick glasses slid across the floor and came to rest against the nearby wall.
“I’m sorry, Cecil. Now hold still,” she said, trying to pin his head down and stop him from gaining his footing. His head twisted and snapped, attempting to chew on the exposed meat of her arm between the metal rails.
“Now that’s not very nice,” she said, her feelings hurt.
She knelt on top of the struggling body and pinned his head to the side, exposing his temple. Carefully taking the knife, she slid it through the skull and Cecil lay still, finally at peace. She closed his vacant eyes, honouring the dead even in their new state of existence. Climbing the stairs she found that the hallway was deserted and she ducked between openings as she made her way silently to the dining area. Her senses were reaching out and she could hear the faint shuffle that had come to embody the approaching dead. Looking through the windows, Christina thought the dining area seemed deserted but had been the site of more violence as the dead had filed out from the mortuary staircase to seek fresh victims.
