I take a step toward the plastic, which draws Cindy forward in her bed. She grabs my wrist once more. “You promised, James. No take backs.”
“I’m not. I’m just going to look and see what that was.”
Cindy narrows her eyes at me. Her brow furrows, and her small lips grow taut.
I train my ear, and listen for any more sounds beyond the plastic sheeting before me. It’s silent. I know I didn’t imagine that noise. Cindy heard it as well.
“Hello?” I call out in a low tone.
“What do you think made that sound?” Cindy inquires. “Do you think it’s one of those monsters?” Her voice is filled with tension. Each word that clears her lips is unsteady and shaky.
I stop just shy of the seam in the dense material. I try to peer through the narrow opening, but can’t see anything clearly.
“It’s probably just Ms. Jones. It’s pretty dark back in there. She may have fallen or bumped into something that made that noise.” Cindy isn’t going to like this next part. “I’m going to step out into the hallway, and see if she’s all right.”
Cindy’s face morphs into a scowl. She crosses her arms over her chest and huffs. “I knew it. You’re always breaking your pinky promises.”
“Ms. Jones could be hurt. She may need our help. Do you just want to leave her out there hurt and alone? Besides, she was going for the radio to call for help. We need that to reach Sergeant Jacobson or any of the other soldiers who are below.”
Cindy reaches around and grabs the pillow from the front of the bed. She clutches it tightly to her chest and buries her face into the white fabric. She looks to me then the hall beyond.
“You’ll be just right out in the hall, right?” she asks.
I nod. “I’ll be close by. I’m just going to make sure she’s ok.”
Cindy takes a few seconds more to mull it over. Her eyes continually dart from me to the hall as she grips the pillow tighter. “All right. Just hurry up. You know the dark scares me.”
“Ok. Stay quiet, and I’ll be right back.” I carefully part the seam in the plastic. The wide beam of the flashlight moves out into the hallway. I sweep it from left to right. It plays over the walls and the nurse’s station. I don’t spot Ms. Jones, or anything else for that matter.
Cautiously, I slip through the opening and step out into the hallway. The material of the enclosure crinkles and crunches. It isn’t overly loud, but enough to make me wince.
I shine the light at the double doors that Commander Reynolds and Private Carter moved through. I don’t hear any strife or screams of panic from the hall beyond. I’m unsure if that’s good or bad.
My body shifts to the right in the direction of the offices behind the nurse’s station. I raise the flashlight higher and train it at the blackness. My neck cranes and head tilts to the right slightly as I look for the nurse.
“Ms. Jones. Are you ok?” I call out.
Still, no reply.
My hand instinctively closes, as if something lethal and deadly is resting in my palm. I wish I had my machete, or any weapon for that matter. I glance about the floor and nurses’ station, but can’t find anything of use.
The gleam of the light focuses back to the passage that leads past the nurse’s station to the offices beyond. I move the light off to the right as an uneasy feeling crawls up my spine. There’s nothing there. No monster hiding within the shadows to spring forth and devour me. Just more empty beds and medical equipment.
The silence is deafening. I can hear every thump of my heart. To me, it sounds as if it can be heard for miles. I try to calm my nerves, but they’re frayed. I have to remain strong for Cindy. She’s doing enough worrying for both of us.
I near the right side of the nurse’s station where the walkway through to the offices are. I pause at the opening. My hand rests on the countertop as I sweep the area.
“Ms. Jones. Are you ok?” I ask again.
Silence.
Damnit.
Steel shelving units against the wall on my right, protrude out into the walkway, which blocks my view of the offices beyond. I lean to my left against the counter’s edge and crane my neck for a better look. I still can’t see clearly past the rack of shelves.
I glance back to the double doors, then over to where Cindy is. She’s quiet as a church mouse. Not a single peep or murmur carries from her room.
One more sweep of the immediate area finds it to be free and clear of anything that would have caused such a clatter. It had to have been from around here, though, since it was close enough for us to hear it clearly.
This would be so much easier if I knew exactly where Ms. Jones was going. Which office had the radio inside of it? I can check these few rooms right here and see. I’ll still be close enough to hear Cindy if she needs me. I’ve rationalized long enough. I need to find Ms. Jones to make sure she’s all right, and to ensure she has that radio. Most important, I need to make sure that she hasn’t been attacked by a chaser.
Slow and steady, I move through the opening. I tilt the flashlight down at an angle to the left, and hone the beam at the space behind the counter. Empty.
The room to my right has its door ajar. I step closer. My hand presses flat against the exterior as I push it inward. The hinges barely squeak, but it sounds like a loud horn going off. I grab the edge and stop. I think there’s enough room for me to thread my body through.
The light washes over the far wall to my right as my head slips in through the opening. I look quickly for any signs of Ms. Jones, but find nothing more than an open room that’s a disorganized mess. Loose papers carpet the floor. I don’t spend any more time looking. I step away from the room and close the door behind me.
On the other side of the shelving unit is another room. I narrow my gaze and try to peer through the stocked shelves of medical supplies. All I can see is the dark, brown wood grain of a door. Nothing more.
My teeth grind and fingers ball into a fist, then release. If Ms. Jones isn’t in this next room, then I’m cutting loose and getting back to Cindy. I can’t stray too far.
A subtle noise catches my ear from behind. It sounds like footsteps. I spin about anxiously and train the flashlight at the source. My body accidently bumps into the mobile shelving unit. It clatters against the wall, making a god-awful ruckus.
I cringe as I feverishly search for the source of the footsteps. I’m halfway expecting to find Cindy standing there, but I spot no one.
Did I really hear footsteps? Are my nerves getting the better of me?
A groaning sound looms in the air close by, followed by the door behind me slamming shut. I gasp. I hold my breath in fright, and turn back toward the office.
My heart pounds so hard that I feel like it’s going to burst through my chest. Rapid, shallow breaths escape my trembling lips. I know I heard that. That has to be where Ms. Jones is, and not the chaser that might be loose on this floor.
My fingers tighten over the flashlight. I gather what courage I have and move toward the office.
I step closer, stopping just shy of the door. I reach for the silver handle. My fingers wrap around its steel surface. I lean forward, and tilt my head to the right. I press my ear to the exterior of the door and listen.
Low and silent, I speak as softly as I can with the hopes that she’ll hear me.
“Ms. Jones, are you in there?” Another groan sounds, followed by some mumbled speech I can’t make out. It’s faint. That doesn’t sound like a chaser. It has to be her in there. “Hold tight. I’m coming in.”
I push down on the handle, and press my body to the door. I push forward, but the door doesn’t budge. Not much, anyway. I try again. It moves a scant inch, but it feels as though something is keeping it from opening from the inside. I plant my feet and push as hard as I can. It moves open wide enough for me to peer inside the office.
A beam of light shines out from the ether of blackness within the disheveled office.
I position my light inside the opening and
look about. A cluttered mess greets my gaze. I tilt the beam toward the floor and discover a head full of hair.
“Ms. Jones. Are you all right? What happened?”
Another groan lingers in the air as the head twitches and moves. I’m waiting for her to respond with actual words and sentences instead of muttered groans like the chasers.
“James.” Ms. Jones grumbles in discomfort. She slowly moves away from the door, allowing me to open it farther. My free hand grips the edge of the door and pushes it open a bit more. I crane my neck, and peer around the door to the floor.
Flat on her butt with her back resting against a row of gray four-drawer filing cabinets that span the wall, she sits in a daze.
The flashlight is on the floor to her left, pointing in the direction of the door. Her face is contorted in pain. Her right arm reaches up as her fingers probe the gash across her forehead.
I move in.
The flashlight sweeps the office from left to right. I find no signs of chasers or anything else for that matter that would hint at any danger. I’m lost as to what went down in here.
I kneel down next to her and stare at the open wound on her head. Blood runs down her porcelain flesh.
“That’s a pretty nasty gash you have there,” I say.
Ms. Jones removes her fingers from the wound and holds them up in front of her. The ends are coated in blood.
“I’m such a damn klutz,” she angrily snarls. “I think I have two left feet at times.”
I eye the torn flesh. “Did you fall?”
She nods. “I was leaving the room, and my foot caught one of the legs of the chair over there by the desk. I fell forward and hit my head on the end of it. The flashlight flew from my hand. Dazed me pretty good.”
I twist in the direction of the desk. The lone guest chair is flipped over on its back. I shift to the left a hair more and find a small trace of blood on the edge.
“Are you able to stand up?”
Ms. Jones raises her arm up to me. “Yeah. I think so. My pride is more hurt than anything.”
I stand up and take her hand. I gently assist her off the ground and back to her feet. She leans against the filing cabinets, taking a minute to gather herself.
“Did you find the radio?” I inquire. I don’t see it on her person.
“Yeah. It’s probably on the floor somewhere. I dropped it as well.”
I train the flashlight to the ground just as a blood curdling scream catches my ear. I spin toward the partially open door. A wave of panic crashes into me.
Oh no. Cindy.
CHAPTER TEN
Another scream fills my ears.
I bolt out of the office.
I collide with the corner of the shelving unit next to the office, which sends it rolling away from the wall and into the walkway.
I lose my balance and fall into the textured wall to my right. The rigid surface scraps along the side of my face, but I don’t care. All I can think of is Cindy. I screwed up. I shouldn’t have left her alone like that, regardless of how far away I was.
“Cindy!” I yell out. “I’m coming!”
“James!” she cries out.
I push away from the wall and try to maneuver around the steel cart. It’s at an angle, blocking my path. If anything has happened to Cindy, I can’t, won’t, be able to live with it.
Adrenaline surges through my veins like a raging river of boiling testosterone. My fingers wrap around the steel bar running vertically along the side of the mobile shelf. I violently yank it toward me, and shove the shelf out of my way.
The wheel catches and tips over. It slams into the cabinets to my right, creating a god-awful crescendo that echoes throughout the space. Medical supplies dump from the shelves and clatter on the tops of the counters and the floor. I fumble my way past the toppled over cart as I struggle to train the light across the hall.
A portion of the plastic curtain that surrounds Cindy’s space has been torn free. It hangs by a handful of wires from the ceiling.
“James!” She continues to scream my name.
“Cindy!” I round the nurse’s station in a mad dash, cutting the corner by mere inches.
The light is unsteady in my grasp. Each step I take, the beam wildly bounces over the far wall and medical equipment. I spot the edge of her bed, and that’s when my heart plummets into a deep, dark ravine of despair.
“No!” I yell.
I come to skidding halt.
My eyes widen at the sight of a woman in scrubs who is on her hands and knees, straddling Cindy on the bed.
Cindy pants and cries as the woman hovers above her meager body. Cindy peers to her left around the woman’s skinny frame. The light washes over her flush cheeks, moist with tears.
“Hey! Get the hell away from my sister!” I demand with a hoarse growl.
The woman’s head twitches, and shifts to the right. She looks back over her shoulder in my direction. Her face is filled with anger. Her teeth gnash, and she pants hard and deeply. She has a chunk of flesh missing from the right portion of her neck.
I charge the bed. The nurse quickly spins about. I have no weapons on me except for the flashlight. Guess it’ll have to work. I raise my arm in the air and pull it back over my shoulder. I growl through clenched teeth.
She lunges from the bed like a crazed animal. Her boney body slams into mine and knocks me hard to the linoleum floor. I slide backward, prone on my back, into the hall with her straddling my waist.
We tussle and fight on the floor. Her teeth chomp up and down as her crazed eyes peer into mine. I don’t bother trying to reason with her. There’s no point. She’s already been consumed by the virus, and there is no going back.
She leans down and tries to bite my chest. I grab just under her jaw and hold her back. She growls and grunts, pushing down with all of her might. My arm shakes, then bend. The chasers are strong and formidable, which makes tussling with them that much more dangerous.
The nurse presses down relentlessly as I struggle to hold her at bay. From the wild look in her eyes and the chomping of her teeth, she shows no signs of giving up, but neither am I. Wielding the flashlight, I strike her across the right side of her skull. The dull thud of the barrel sends her head snapping to the left violently.
A trickle of blood runs out from the now open gash on her forehead. It races down the side of her face. Droplets of blood drip from the end of her chin and splash against my coat.
I swing the flashlight once more. She grabs my arm. Her head fixes front and center with mine. She pins my arm to the floor with the weight of her body, and growls wildly.
The beam of light is pointed in the opposite direction, so all I can see is the silhouette of her long hair dangling in front of her face like spider legs.
Cindy’s still on the bed, crying and screaming for me. Her frantic words are lost on my ears and play as background noise to the nurse who has me mounted. I have to get out of this situation alive. That’s all there is to it.
More intense growls escape from the nurse’s lips. I struggle to keep her away with my left arm. It bends even more, and she inches closer to my flesh. I snarl and spit through clenched teeth as I try to free my pinned right arm.
The sharp report of a single gunshot nearby startles me. It echoes down the hall. I flinch. A brief flash of yellow and orange from my right catches my eye.
A squishing sound quickly fills my slightly ringing ears followed by the nurse’s head jerking to the left. Her body drops lifelessly onto my chest in a heap of dead weight.
My hand releases the flashlight, so I can try to get the nurse clear of me. I struggle to position my arms under her body to push her off. She wasn’t overly big, but trying to bench press dead weight off of me, especially when I have skimpy muscles, is challenging.
Footsteps head this way. I grit my teeth and finally roll her bulk onto the floor. I spew a breath of tension and exhaustion from my mouth.
My head tilts to the right and finds a pair of mi
litary boots and fatigues standing near me. I look up toward the ceiling. I’m met with a blinding light that blasts me in the face. My eyes narrow from the harsh beam as my hands come up to shield my face. I can’t tell who it is.
“You all right, son?” the voice wearily inquires. It’s Commander Reynolds.
“Yeah. I’m better now. Thanks.” My head turns away from the light to keep it from blinding me.
He sweeps down my body, then back up. “She didn’t bite you, did she?”
My hands remain up as I shake my head no. “Not for lack of trying. Can you remove the damn light from my face?”
It takes him a moment to comply, but he finally does. He reaches down, takes hold of my hand, and pulls me to my feet.
I scan the floor for the flashlight, and find it clasped within Cindy’s hands. She’s barefoot and dressed in a hospital gown. I rush over to her.
“Are you ok?” I worriedly inquire.
Cindy hands me the flashlight. I take it from her, and cradle her flushed face. Tears stream down her cheeks.
She whimpers as she wraps her arms tightly around my neck. “I was so scared, James. I didn’t know what it was going to do to me.”
I hold her tight for a moment longer. She releases her hold and takes a step back.
I grip the sides of both of her arms. I thoroughly check her for any additional bites or wounds that the chaser may have inflicted.
“Did she bite or scratch you? I don’t see anything.”
Cindy shakes her head. “I don’t think she did, but it all happened so quickly.”
Commander Reynolds approaches from our right. He towers over us. “What exactly happened after she spotted you?”
Cindy brushes away the tears from her cheeks with the backs of her hands. She sniffles, and slows her panted breathing.
“I tried to stay as quiet as I could. I guess she saw me sitting there, and that’s when she came at me.” She pauses, and swallows down the fear that remains. “She jumped up on the bed and just sat on top of me. That’s when I yelled for James.”
Commander Reynolds nudges my arm. “Were you not with her when this happened?”
Dead State (Book 4): Immune Page 6
