by Ricky Fleet
She pushed through and the doors swished shut on slow close hinges, concealing her from view of the torn and shredded zombie that turned the corner. She duck walked, down low, while ensuring that the trolley rail attached to her arm did not crash into anything as she moved down the aisles to reach the kitchen entrance just as the previous door gave access to the searching corpse.
“Shit,” she whispered. There was no alternative but to push through and fight the monster in the kitchen area when it came to investigate. Throwing caution to the wind, she stood and made eye contact with the creature. It had been horribly mauled and was in a worse condition than any she had encountered up to this point. Being used to the frailty of the human body, she had seen her fair share of awful sights; burns that left the body blackened and crispy, falls that had left the poor victim like jelly from the shattered bones. This new desire to be up and walking was taking a bit of getting used to. Clotted lumps of gore fell from the open mouth as it gave chase, reaching out for her.
“Think! Think!” Christina demanded as she scanned the room, “The fridge!”
She ran over and pulled the handle of the large walk in chiller that contained enough supplies to feed an entire hospital of people. The figure that stepped out in the swirling mist of chilled vapour made her scream in fright.
“Jesus, you scared the shit out of me!” Percy scowled and his eyes narrowed. Seeing it was Christina, his lips curled in a grin that left her in no doubt he wanted to commit unspeakable sexual acts on her. Looking past him, the body of a small child lay naked on the floor of blankets he had taken from the supply cupboard. It was bound and gagged with a pillow case over its head, thrashing on the makeshift mattress.
“You fucking animal,” she shouted as the door opened behind her, allowing her pursuer in to join them. Percy’s grin disappeared with terror and he tried to pull the door closed, but Christina held it open and raked her knife down his fingers, severing the tendons. Percy screamed and clutched at his useless digits while looking around at a weapon to use against her. The jars of food were close to hand and he started to launch them indiscriminately at her across the kitchen. The glass smashed against counters and walls, smearing the delicious contents. Some rebounded against her body when he got lucky, causing her to yell in pain. For some reason the frenzied, hateful throwing fit drew the attention of the zombie and it ignored Christina, choosing to make an attempt to get at Percy. The jars made no difference to the creature. It didn’t flinch or shy away, just had creamy sauce dripping, as well as the green tinged blood.
“Help me, you bitch!” he shrieked and pulled the door closed with a loud thump.
“I don’t think so, do you?” Christina asked her friend who had lost interest with the steel door and gazed at her again. It lumbered around the kitchen units and she just sauntered away, keeping pace with the slow moving horror.
“We are going to save that poor child from that bastard, aren’t we?” she continued, reaching the fridge door. She took the handle and it opened an inch, then slammed shut again with Percy’s weight pulling against it. With a strength that rose from the pit of her stomach, a burning hatred that blazed into life inside her, she clutched the handle and wrenched it. Being caught off balance, Percy fell back into the fridge and cowered, holding an arm out to ward off the attack.
“My mum will hear of this, you cunt. She will have your job. You will never work in another hospital again!” he shouted.
Christina laughed in his face, “Do you think your mummy is still alive? Everyone’s dead you halfwit.”
“No please don’t kill me!” he begged. His hands covered his streaming eyes, as if not seeing what was coming would mean it wasn’t real. Christina had a different idea come into her mind, an epiphany of sorts. She had heard about his pending child molestation court cases and decided he should suffer for the evil he had perpetrated against the innocent, both before, and after the unfolding apocalypse. Using the bed rail to pin him down, then with a quick flick of the wrist, her blade had cut through his Achilles tendons on both feet. His eyes flared open and he gurgled bubbles from his mouth, the agonising pain not allowing the scream to burst from his lips. She grabbed his dirty hair and started to drag him out through the door, but he fought back and held tight with his one good hand on the shelving.
“Let go!” she shouted and cut at the back of his last good hand, freeing the limb.
She kicked at him and he fell to the cold floor, trying to stand but with no grip and no way to plant his feet he just flopped to the ground. The zombie had seen the easy meal and came around the kitchen for him. Seeing the rotten monster, Percy cried even harder, dragging himself along the ground in a fruitless effort to get away.
“I’m here, sweetheart,” Christina hushed the small figure on the floor while keeping an eye on the one sided chase in the kitchen aisles. Lifting the pillow case, the wild dead face of the child snapped at her and a small part of her died in that room. There were no signs of injury on the child that would indicate she had been bitten before turning. Percy would have most likely snatched her in the chaos and taken her to a quiet place, before committing his cruelties.
“There’s a hot, dark corner of Hell waiting for you, Percy,” she said, lifting the child and marching her toward the other corpse who had now knelt down and started to chew at Percy’s stomach, tearing deep and pulling intestines out all over the floor. She took her knife and cut the bindings free, lowering the child monster onto Percy’s tortured face. The fingers clawed and raked, pulling lips and skin away which were thrust deep into the eager mouth.
It took Percy minutes to die and Christina made sure the job was done before she stabbed at the two zombies, destroying them. Not waiting for Percy to turn, she stabbed into his untouched brain, denying him the chance to hurt any more people. She removed the bed rail from her arm now that the imminent danger was passed, and to make the next task easier. Using the blankets, she made a burial shroud and wrapped the child tightly. Unable to give her a proper ceremony, she opened the freezer and placed her within, hoping to get the chance to finish the job later.
“He can’t hurt you any more, little one,” she said and closed the door, head bowed.
Her appetite was gone, but she forced herself to eat a sealed pasta bake that was quickly heated in the microwave. The flavourless food filled her stomach, appeasing the growling organ. She closed her eyes, taking a moment to process the awful happenings of the past few days.
**********
Waking inside the fridge that she had slept in, the darkness was absolute. It was morbid to think what had occurred within these steel walls between the living and dead, but she was exhausted both physically and spiritually after killing Percy and didn’t want to risk exposure to more zombies. She looked at her phone and the time was twelve past one in the afternoon. The message bar was empty and the battery only had six percent remaining. She hadn’t thought to keep it charged after the landline phone signal had died and not returned after the power failed in the surrounding area. She served up a small portion of cereal topped with a huge spoonful of sugar and leaned against the wall, savouring the sweet crunch. The sound of the door being kicked inwards caused her to drop the bowl, which smashed into pieces on the floor.
“Identify yourself! Now!” came the shout from the armed man in the doorway. It had a muffled tone to it from the full face mask that he wore to guard against airborne pathogens.
She held up her hands, “I’m Doctor Hargis. I work here.”
“Miss, you should come with us. We have a man down and the medic could use your help,” he led the way to the foyer where a dozen men were working tirelessly, stacking boxes and clearing access.
“What are you all doing here, what is going on?” Christina asked the soldier who had identified himself as Sergeant Edwards.
“I have no idea how you survived, Miss, but you have my respect. The whole world is on the brink, we have been ordered to try and set up a refugee centre here for Chicheste
r and the surrounding towns. I don’t think we are going to have much luck, all we have seen so far are the dead heads,” he explained.
“You can take the mask off Sergeant, this thing isn’t airborne or I would be trying to eat you already,” she said and he took the heavy mask off with a sigh of relief.
“Troops, we are clear of airborne contamination. Masks are optional, but keep them close in case anything changes,” he barked the order and his men complied.
Through the front doors, as she paused to administer aid to the bitten soldier, she could see what they were trying to accomplish. A camouflaged forklift was moving large concrete blocks and a line of men were throwing sandbags to each other, which were then placed in a curved row on the ground. A forward group was firing short bursts from their rifles at the dead. The numbers were growing from the ruckus being created and the point men were glad of the reprieve the first machine gun placement provided. It chattered into life, mowing a path through the growing mass and the other guns took up positions, adding to the waves of bullets that punched through the flesh.
“Sarge, we can’t hold them back much longer,” gasped a corporal, looking madly over his shoulder.
“Banksy, hold it together! We will have full field of fire with close artillery support in ten minutes. Get out there and give those fuckers hell!” shouted the superior, which served to bolster his flagging spirit.
“Yes, sir!” he roared and ran back outside, triggering a renewed energy amongst the others as he gave orders.
“Quinn, this is Doctor Hargis. What do you need her to do?” the sergeant asked the blood drenched medic.
“I can’t get to his artery, can you try and find it while I hold him down?” he said, ripping a syringe free of its packaging and injecting it into his arm. The morphine took effect quickly and his struggles lessened.
“Bitten?” Christina questioned. The shapes of the wounds on his arms and face left no other possible explanation and the medic just nodded.
“They came out of nowhere as we landed. The chopper touched down and we thought they were hospital staff. Maybe they had been… once.” He let the sentence trail off as he pinched the artery which was pumping feebly now.
“Come on you bastard, fight!” Quinn yelled at his dying comrade.
“Men, lock and load. Get your asses out front, we have a war on our hands!” Sergeant Edwards shouted.
“How can I help?” Christina asked, watching the men as they ran to take up firing positions.
“Hide. Don’t come out until we come and get you. If we don’t come and get you… keep low and do what you have done best. Survive.” He pushed her away and met his men as they rushed for the entrance.
“Sarge, we have really fucked the hornets’ nest haven’t we?” shouted a young recruit with a terrified expression.
“Yeah, and now we fuck the hornets!” he bellowed in reply, trying to instil courage for the coming battle. His own expression turned to fear when the panorama of thousands met him crossing the car park.
“Grenade out,” came a cry and they all dropped low, waiting for the dull crump as it exploded and signalled the start of the fire fight.
Christina retreated into the kitchen and, with each door closing, the sounds of fighting diminished. She unplugged the fridge, hoping to keep the temperature a bit higher until they would come and retrieve her. The motor stopped humming and she kept the door open a crack, listening to the war, trying to gauge which way it turned out. The sounds of faint screams breached the doors and she knew. The door closed, sealing her inside the metal room. Safe, but cold.
Chapter 17
They looked at her with amazement. She had survived on her own during the outbreak and been on the frontline of the fight between the army and the massed dead of Chichester City.
“Wow, you have really been through it,” Sarah commended the doctor for her resilience.
“I don’t think anyone that is still alive can say they haven’t. You’ve had your own struggles by the sounds of it.” She returned to compliment.
“Why did you pick the x-ray room to hide if you don’t mind me asking?” Kurt enquired.
“It’s the most sound-proof room in this part of the hospital. I would lay low to avoid the few that are left in the hallways and when it was quiet I would run to get some food.” Dr Christina showed her knowledge and survival skills.
“And you have survived on your own? Remarkable,” Gloria said with respect.
“Well I’ve never really been alone. I have always had the company of the zombies, but they aren’t the best conversationalists,” she joked.
“On the subject of sleeping, we could do with some rest. Would you mind if we pulled some mattresses in with you?” John asked and Christina was more than happy to have company again. The poor soldiers had been friendly and brave, but totally unprepared for the assault they would face from the locals. She mourned their passing ever since that fateful day.
The group wheeled Peter through the main foyer to relocate him to the x-ray room. It was a shame the power was out; they could have used an x-ray to get a proper look at the internal damage. He was so high on pain medication that he was still singing ‘show me the way to go home’ as they closed the doors to gather their belongings and more mattresses from the hospital beds. Debbie and Mike were nowhere to be seen, so they decided to leave them to it. The split among the group was taking place properly and the family would need to be on guard against any foul play. Placing candles around the examination room, the scene was gently lit and gave them all a feeling of calm.
“I wish I had possessed some candles; the darkness was the hardest thing to take in here. You are left alone with your own thoughts and memories,” Christina told them with a shudder.
“Well you aren’t alone now. We all look out for one another,” Sarah told her.
“You don’t know how grateful I am to hear that,” she replied and gave Sarah an unexpected hug. The rest of the group moved in and had a massive cuddle fest, sharing the moment of new companions.
“Hang on a minute,” Kurt said, pulling away, “How do you smell so clean?”
“Oh, we still have the operating room showers working. The water is freezing, but by using the soap from the bathroom dispensers I can keep fresh. You all smell like you could do with one,” she joked and they all laughed. The muck and filth was ingrained in their skin and, even cold, a shower would be a welcome relief.
“That would be great,” Braiden said, looking at the dirt under his nails and skin that hadn’t been its natural shade for several days.
**********
They lay in the shadows, the single candle barely managing to banish the darkness. It was decided they were too valuable to waste by having a few alight at one time. Jodi had been quiet ever since Mike had left them for another area, choosing to ignore her after all they had been through. Gloria sensed her pain and asked her to explain their partnership.
“We were together when we were younger. He was my first love, but with all the trouble he was getting in to, my parents made me break it off. I went to university and got my degree in business management and didn’t speak to him for nearly ten years. I was managing a pub in Chichester and in he walked, as handsome as he always was. We rekindled our romance and he swept me off my feet. I knew within a year it was a mistake, too much time had passed and things just fizzled out. The initial buzz wasn’t enough to sustain our relationship. We were lucky that we stayed friends and, one afternoon, he suggested we buy our own pub. I jumped at the idea and took out a loan. I’m not sure where he got his cash from, though I have my suspicions. We got the Beachwood for a great price as it was in financial difficulties and the owners were desperate to sell. After two months I could see why; the main road that passed by had been rerouted and most of the traffic used the new motorway. We had our regulars but they barely covered the cost of the firewood we used. Mike had a word with some friends and suddenly we had a younger crowd in. They drunk a lot more and we st
arted seeing a massive spike in profits. The problem was the numbers just didn’t add up. I know the unit price and the profit margins like the back of my hand, but we were way over those. I am ashamed to say that I think he was using the place to hide his brother’s drug money. I was so desperate to have a successful business that I ignored it. I am such a bad person,” Jodi started to cry and Sarah went to her, giving her a consoling hug.
After calming down she continued, “After a while, the fact we were on top of each other the whole time meant he tried to get back together. By that time, I only saw him as a friend, maybe a big brother, and this really knocked his confidence. He was surly most of the time towards the end, before everything died and, you know, came back to life. I have to confess that I went to him a few times at the start of it all, I was so scared. It left me feeling worse for some reason and I stayed away for the last few weeks. I know I have been messing with his head but I didn’t want to be alone. It’s my fault that he is being like this now.” She felt responsible for the gulf that was growing between them all.
“It’s not your fault,” Sarah soothed her. “We have to take responsibility for our own actions. Mike has chosen to attack our group for no reason.”
“Well you did turn up out of the blue,” she tried to defend him. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that, you had no idea what would happen.”
“I’m sorry I stabbed him, Jodi,” Braiden offered, although it wasn’t true.
“Thank you, sweetheart, but someone needed to stop him from hurting Kurt,” she replied.
A hard knock came from the door. The door was pushed but met the equipment that they had put back in place to keep it closed.
“It’s Debbie, let me in,” came a whisper from under the door.
They looked at each other and Kurt sighed. He stood and pulled the heavy machines out of the way and she stood in the fading light of the dying day.
