Night Zero

by Rob Horner

  “I was thinking, since the door opens out into the hall, that we could block it with two beds side by side,” she said.

  The idea was perfect. The halls were barely wide enough for two stretchers to move by each other. Even if it wasn’t a complete block, there was no way anyone could open the door far enough to get out of the reception room.

  “Here, you take this one,” she added. “I’ll get the one in 16.”

  Moving quickly, Josh pushed the stretcher out of the room, making a hard left into the hallway leading back to the waiting room and the reception area. He parked the bed along the left side, directly across from the door. The rattling/rumbling noise of the second bed being pushed by Caitlin came up behind him.

  “Stop there,” he said. “Don’t block it yet.” Yanking open the door, he yelled, “Okay, whack one more mole and get out of there. We’re ready.”

  He moved to the side as first Grace and Rose, followed by Billy, Brandon, and China, poured out of the room. Looking over China’s head, he saw two male bodies struggling over the ledge.

  “Get behind me,” Caitlin yelled at them.

  Josh pushed the door closed, waiting until the last second to jump out of the way as the second stretcher came up beside the first. The door banged open, but it could only move an inch before striking the side of the second stretcher.

  “Lock the wheels!” Josh yelled, scrambling onto the second stretcher, moving along its length, then jumped off at the head where the others waited.

  “Okay, that should hold them,” Brandon said.

  Josh nodded. “Brandon, come with me to help the cop. I think I heard Genny say he was hurt.”

  “It was Jordyn,” Brandon corrected him.

  “Whichever. The rest of you, go see if Dr. Crews needs any help.”

  “Buck? You good?” Dr. Crews yelled.

  The woman he had in a full nelson strained with her legs, pushing up, trying to twist left and right, but he held on. If he could ever get her centered, he planned to drop to a knee and force her to do the same, which would relieve a lot of the strain on his back.

  “Yeah, think my ear is bleeding again where she head-bopped me. Might have busted some stitches.”

  Adam remembered seeing the bandage around the big paramedic’s head but hadn’t thought much about it at the time. Now, he worried. “What happened to your ear?”

  “The dude who died in Trauma 2. He bit me, tore half of it off.”

  “When was this?”

  “Earlier today, around five or so.”

  Crews searched his memory but didn’t think he’d seen any of the weird red and blue lines around Buck’s wound. But then, half of his head was mummy-wrapped, so it was possible… He made a mental note to check Buck’s wound after they got these patients settled. And he’d have a perfect excuse, given the paramedic’s complaint that a stitch might have burst.

  “Okay, I’ll take a look at it in a minute.”

  “No hurry, Doc. I figure we’ve got our hands full right now.”

  Isn’t that the truth?

  “I’ve got the B-52s,” Jessica said, coming out of the med room.

  “And I’ve got the Geodon,” Karen added. “Who’s getting what?”

  “I’d like a cocktail,” Billy piped up. “I’m feeling pretty stressed.”

  Jessica shot him a look that could wither grapes on the vine.

  “Get the woman outside 15 first,” Dr. Crews said, “then work your way up the hall. Billy, go play holder.”

  Karen barked a laugh.

  Hastily donning a pair of gloves, Billy joined Karen and Jessica by Mrs. Burleson, who lay turned on her side facing into the room. Her daughter was awake, head and chest above the mattress, watching them with the creepy glare of the girl from The Exorcist. Jessica shivered. There was no emotion on the face of the teenager, just a half-smile like her mouth had frozen that way. Her eyes were glittering orbs in the dim light. Squatting down beside them, Billy yanked on the waistband of the older woman’s sweatpants, exposing a generous swell of buttock.

  “You go high. I’ll go low,” Jessica said, and Karen nodded.

  “Plenty of booty there to work with,” Billy said, and this time Jessica smiled. As inappropriate as some of his comments were, a person with his sense of humor was a necessity in any emergency department. The trauma and drama demanded comic relief. The darker the better, in most cases. Billy reached into his scrub pockets for a handful of Band-Aids, but then saw they wouldn’t be needed. “You guys are getting good. Four sticks and no bleeding. I’m impressed.”

  Jessica wished four needles weren’t needed, but she hadn’t been able to remember which of the three drugs in the B-52 cocktail could be mixed in the same syringe.

  “And…the moon is back behind the clouds,” the young man quipped, pulling Mrs. Burleson’s pants back to her waist.

  Something about the kid in the room troubled Jessica. She’d been in the break room since the nightmare with Lisa and Mr. Sprugg, so she hadn’t seen Kristie go ape-shit and need to be sedated. That couldn’t have been more than two hours before. How was the kid awake now? The cocktail should keep her down for somewhere between six and eight hours. Hell, the Ativan alone should be enough to knock most adults out cold—those without a tolerance to benzodiazepines, anyway. Yet there she was, awake and trying to sit up, straining but not making a sound.

  Shaking her head, Jessica rose and went over to Dr. Crews, who had finally managed to put Mrs. Butler down on her bottom. Still maintaining his wrestling hold, with his hands locked behind her head and her arms pointed up to the sky, he’d stretched his legs out beside hers and had gotten them scooted backward, so the wall behind him offered some support.

  “One of you on each side please,” he said. “And try not to stick me.”

  “Hold her still or all bets are off,” Karen said.

  Mrs. Butler had come in blouse and slacks, dressed well enough to attend church in Jessica’s opinion, though this was probably her idea of everyday clothes. Her only concession to the warm weather were the short sleeves and the thin material of the blouse. Billy gingerly rolled each sleeve up to the shoulder, giving both nurses ample access to Mrs. Butler’s deltoid muscles.

  A few seconds later—and still no blood from any of the puncture sites—and they were done and ready to move on to Tonya.

  Mrs. Burleson might not have bled, but she was out, Jessica thought. Mrs. Butler was actively fighting. All those needle holes should be bleeding.

  “How we gonna do this?” Buck asked. He still had Tonya in a bear hug, his big hands locked one on top of the other around her middle. The nurse’s face was a ghastly mess of dusky, bulging skin on one side, and a frozen snarl of effort and frustration on the other. The left side of her face didn’t match the right as the swollen area pulled everything else taut. Her eyes followed them, though if she had any fear of the needles in their hands, she didn’t show it. Like Mrs. Butler, and the girl in room 15, she didn’t make a sound, just continued lunging forward against Buck’s restraining arms, struggling to break free without showing any creativity in her efforts.

  It’s like she isn’t thinking. All she knows is to go forward.

  “I’ll grab her legs,” Billy said. “We can do a lift and flip.”

  “I hate those,” Buck complained.

  “Don’t like having your hands trapped underneath?” Karen asked.

  “No, it’s not that,” Buck answered quietly. Jessica couldn’t be sure, but in the dim light the big guy looked embarrassed.

  “It’s okay, Buck,” Billy said. “We won’t report you for sexual harassment.”

  And it clicked. He’d be pinning her face down and lying on top. Jessica’s face burned for a moment before an idle thought…

  Might be nice to be pinned by him!

  …spread the heat from her face to her neck and made her very glad for the dim light.

  “Let’s just do it,” Buck said.

  Billy moved to the front and sai
d, “Sorry, Tonya,” before lunging down and grabbing her ankles. It was a violent move used only for the most aggressive patients, a way to maneuver someone into a position where medication administration was safer. Buck’s arms took the brunt of the punishment as he twisted and pushed her down to the ground, but he considered it a success when her head didn’t hit. Tonya immediately began to buck and thrash, lifting her chin up and turning her head left and right, gnashing her teeth. Buck turned his head to the side and pressed it against the nape of her neck, prepared to ride out the gyrations until the medicines could get to work.

  “Hang in there, Buck,” Billy said.

  “I’m already past 8 seconds,” he replied. “I’m getting me a belt buckle after this.”

  Billy led the way to the break room. “Let me check, first,” he said, punching in the code for the door. Taking a deep breath, he turned and pushed, throwing the door wide.

  The room was empty.

  “Ah crap,” Karen said. “Looks like Kenja’s gone.”

  “The interior phones don’t work, right?” Jessica asked.

  “They’re tied to the power, so probably not,” Billy answered.

  “So, let’s get our cells while we’re here.”

  “Good idea,” Karen replied. “It’s not like we’re going to get in trouble for having them out. Not tonight anyway.”

  “I’ll keep the door open, give you guys some light,” Billy said while Jessica and Karen went to retrieve their phones.

  “Poor Gus,” Tina said, shaking her head. Both she and Dr. Patel had checked the kindly old security guard for a pulse, but neither had been able to find one.

  “He was a good man,” Dr. Patel said. “But he is gone. Let us concentrate on the police officer, who is still with us.”

  “I plan to stay that way too,” Tim replied. “But I don’t think I can get up just yet.”

  “Don’t try to, just look straight ahead,” Dr. Patel said. “Ignore my flashlight, please.”

  “The light hurts though.”

  “I know, I know. We have to make sure your brain still works.”

  “What can we do?” Josh said, coming to stand behind Jordyn.

  Dr. Patel looked up at them. “One of you go get some Zofran. The ODT should be fine. Jordyn, please bring a wheelchair over here.”

  “Now, now,” Tim protested. “I’ll be good to go in just a second. No need for a wheel—”

  “Nod your head up and down, please,” the doctor ordered.

  Tim complied, then immediately brought his hands to the sides of his head and tried to lower his shoulders between his knees.

  “You are concussed at the least, young man. Quite severely. We will give you something for the nausea, but you will find walking very difficult.”

  Tim squared his hands on the floor, took a deep breath, and tried to push himself up. He sagged almost immediately.

  “I told you. Motion will bring dizziness and probably an increase in your headache.”

  The officer groaned.

  Jordyn returned with one of the wheelchairs stationed near the EMS bay doors. The chair clattered as she unfolded it, and Tim winced at the sudden noise.

  Josh returned a moment later, holding a dose cup with a single white pill in the bottom. “Here you go, big guy. Just let it dissolve in your mouth.”

  “It’s Zofran,” the doctor said before the officer could ask. “It’s something to keep you from vomiting.”

  A shuffling noise drew Brandon’s attention. “Tina? He’s moving.”

  “What?”

  Behind the group, Gus the security guard began moving his arms and legs, trying to roll himself over in order to stand.

  “That’s not possible,” Tina breathed, grabbing her stethoscope from around her neck and placing the buds in her ears.

  “Um,” Brandon said. “His throat’s pretty fucked up. How’s he alive?”

  “He wasn’t a minute ago,” Dr. Patel answered.

  Tim tried to rise again and managed to pivot himself forward to his hands and knees.

  As Tina knelt beside Gus, reaching her stethoscope out to listen to his chest, Brandon dove in, quickly restraining the man’s arms before they could grab her.

  “Jesus, he’s strong.”

  “Tina?” Dr. Patel asked. His voice had adopted a wavering quality that didn’t sit well with anyone. Doctors aren’t supposed to sound nervous.

  “There’s still no heartbeat,” she reported, darting the stethoscope diaphragm to different sections of the old man’s chest. “No breath sounds, nothing.”

  “So, he’s dead?” Brandon asked, grunting. “Someone should tell him that.”

  “It doesn’t make any sense,” Tina said.

  “Know what else doesn’t make sense?” Josh asked. “Standing here while a dead guy comes back to life.”

  “Amen to that,” Jordyn breathed.

  “Come on, Officer,” Josh said. “Let’s get you in the chair.”

  “I don’t know if I can,” he said, pushing against the floor. Josh moved to grab under an arm, trying to lift him further. “Dr. Patel, can you come help? Doctor?”

  The doctor stood staring at the struggling man on the floor.

  “Okay,” Brandon said. “Tina, you need to get back so I can let go.”

  Shaking her head, Tina rose from the old man’s side.

  “One. Two. Three,” Brandon counted off. With a shove, he released Gus’s hands.

  His eyes were open; they could all see that. His shoulders rocked from side to side, little drops of blood like afterthoughts dripping from his throat with each rotation.

  It wasn’t pouring. That’s what decided things for Tina. A wound like that should be pumping blood. Every breath would have it spraying out and sucking back in. But with no heartbeat to pump the blood, and no lung action to make it spray, it just dripped.

  “Holy shit,” Tina said. “He’s a walking dead guy.”

  Gus managed to make it to his side, then onto his stomach. His hands and knees came in and he pushed, rising to all fours.

  “Crap! Get me in the chair!” Tim said.

  Rather than rising the rest of the way, Gus scuttled forward on his hands and knees, his eyes locked on the police officer directly in front of him.

  Jordyn screamed.

  Tina grabbed Dr. Patel’s shoulder and jerked him aside.

  Tim fumbled at his waist as Brandon got under the shoulder opposite Josh, who began backpedaling, lining the cop’s ass up with the stationary wheelchair.

  Gus came forward fast, growing faster with each hump and surge, as if his body was relearning how to do this thing called crawling.

  The back of Tim’s thighs bumped into the thin vinyl of the wheelchair seat, and the seat scooted backwards.

  “Shit, no one set the brakes!” Josh said. Brandon groaned.

  Gus came closer.

  Jordyn screamed again.

  “Hold me still,” Tim said. Something in his voice, a sound of resignation laced with calm control, made Tina look away from the scrabbling form of the old security guard and up into the cop’s face.

  He had his service pistol in hand, and though the barrel jittered, it didn’t move very much. Brandon and Josh held him still, and the cop brought his left hand under his right. The small vibrations of the muzzle stopped.

  “Gus, you need to stop,” Officer Tim said. “I will shoot you if you don’t stop.”

  Gus didn’t stop.

  The police officer fired one round into Gus’s head from two feet away.

  The sound of the gunshot was electrifying.

  China shrieked and James, whose arm she’d been wrapping with Coban, shot up from his seated position.

  “Who’s shooting?” Dr. Crews and Buck asked at the same time.

  Angelica looked up from her study of Mrs. Burleson, “Sounded like it came from the back hallway.” Then she screamed as Mrs. Burleson woke and lunged forward, wrapping strong arms around the secretary’s ankles and pulling hard, to
ppling her. The crazed woman began climbing, as it were, using her hands to pull herself along Angelica’s body.

  China began to rise, ready to rush to Angelica’s aid, but James turned toward her. One look at his face, at the lack of life and luster in his eyes, made her hitch in another breath to scream. Reaching out hands with fingers curled to grab, James fell over the petite CNA, his mouth opening, widening, ready to bite.

  “Not this shit again!” Grace said, darting forward and hooking one strong arm under Mrs. Burleson’s right. With a heave, the stout receptionist broke the woman’s grip, allowing Angelica to scoot backward and out from under the other woman.

  “Boy, you better get offa her!” Rose added, twisting and grabbing both of James’ shoulders. Caitlin moved to help, getting both hands in his right armpit. Rose leaned back, pumping her legs and pulling the taller man off the small Asian. “Ah damn,” she added a second later, seeing the bite mark that started at China’s right eye and encompassed her entire right cheek. The eye was closed. The girl had fainted. But the blood running freely from beneath the eyelid spoke volumes to the amount of damage James had done in a very short time. James went with the pull, spinning as he gained his feet. His mouth gaped wide as he came around, a fright mask outlined in blood. He leaned in toward the shorter woman.

  Caitlin pushed, making the off-balance man stagger a step to the side.

  “The fuck you thinkin’, boy?” Rose yelled, stepping back with her right foot then immediately pushing off with it, swinging it forward, toes driving into the soft spot that makes all men weep.

  Except James acted like nothing had happened.

  Rose could remember days when boys got grabby with her. It didn’t happen anymore, not since her six-pack became a keg and the sugars got the better of her, but she knew when her toes made a boys’ testicles do the splits, and she figured she’d hit James hard enough that he’d be coming blood for a month.

  But he just pressed forward, making not so much as a sound, no indication that she’d hurt him at all. Her feet were all wrong now and she could feel herself falling backward.

  “Grab him! Hold him!” a voice ordered, and hands appeared, pulling James away from her, allowing her to set her feet so she didn’t fall. Not that falling onto her ass would hurt much; the back had even more padding than the front.