Chapter 12
Authorities in bunkered hospital offices tried desperately to determine what was happening and what could be done about it. They watched on surveillance cameras as groups of fleeing survivors moved from floor to floor and from department to department. There seemed to be no exits still available. There was also no time to talk or to plan as each door or stairwell that was barricaded was systematically broken down and hordes of attackers poured through. As each new area was abandoned, fewer and fewer members of these groups continued. They were being exterminated little by little.
In one fleeing group, Dr. Caldwell, who had attempted to treat little Martin Houser much earlier that morning, was starting to understand that any bite, regardless of severity or treatment, was lethal. Even more troubling was that he was also beginning to understand that the bites also initiated a biological change in the victim that ultimately led to...the reanimation of dead tissue. It was nearly impossible for him to accept. He was a man of science and healing and this was the stuff of science fiction.
The reanimated victims were only human in appearance, retaining no memory, no faculties aside from basic ambulation and senses, and no restraint or fear. What they did develop, however, was a seemingly insatiable hunger and a ruthless disregard for any sense of compassion. They became, in essence, cannibalistic homicidal machines.
The horrific things he had seen today made his head swim and his stomach turn. Patients, restricted to their beds by injury or illness, were butchered were they lay. Recovery rooms had become hellish smorgasbords. He shuddered to think what had happened to those innocents in the nursery and in the NICU. Maybe the monsters hadn’t made it that far yet. Maybe the security doors had been blocked and had held the mob at bay.
He looked at what remained of their group. There were maybe twenty people with him. They were exhausted and terrified and not sure where they were going to go next. He wasn’t sure on what floor they were, but knew that they couldn’t keep going up indefinitely. Eventually they’d come to the top floor and be trapped. If only they could know where to go or what to do, but even then he could hear the moaning from the stairwell getting louder and closer. They were still being followed. He knew they had to keep moving, but before they did he wanted to do a quick assessment of their group.
There was one police officer with them, though his pistol had proven largely ineffective in even slowing the pursuers, let alone discouraging or stopping the pursuit. There were a couple of maintenance workers in long blue coveralls, some nurses (both male and female), and a collection of administrative personnel such as office clerks and secretaries. Perhaps most troubling, especially if his hypothesis about the effects of the bites was true, there were three members of the group who had been bitten and one of them was starting to look more and more like that little boy from the emergency room, the Houser boy.
He took the police officer aside to express his fears. The officer nodded as he listened but his face twisted in incredulity. He listened to everything the doctor had to say and then asked, “So what are you saying, Doc? Should we leave those three here or just shoot them now?” There was a certain degree of skepticism in the officer’s words but enough seriousness to indicate that the officer was at least aware that these were very serious options that needed to be considered.
Just then, the two of them heard a phone ringing in an open office to their right. It rang three times, then stopped. Then it rang another three times and stopped. As it began to ring again, Dr. Caldwell picked it up and cautiously answered, “Hello? This is Dr. Caldwell.”
“Doctor,” a voice began, “I need you to head to the top floor. Do everything you can to block any and all doors. We’re going to get you out of there, but you have to put some space between you and them. Do you understand?”
“Yes, but how do you—”
“We’ve been keeping an eye on you with the security cameras. The trackers are about two floors down from you but headed your way. We need you to get moving now. Get upstairs as fast as you can, but remember to block the stairs and any doors as well as you can. Do any of the maintenance men with you have their keys on them? Can they lock the doors?”
“No. Their keys don’t work in this tower but we’ll do our best.”
“Doctor, I don’t want to hear that you’ll do your best. We need you to take charge and get those people out of there. Do you understand me?”
“Yessir.”
“Okay, if you get to other phones and need help, call me back at extension 1138.”
“Thanks, but who is this?”
“My name is Simon.”
Chapter 13
Owen Hollander, battalion commander for the Anchorage Fire Department, was only vaguely aware of the scale of the chaos in the hospital area. He was acutely aware, however, that Providence Hospital, one of the most important emergency response centers in the city, was burning. The lack of any firm communication from the area caused him even more concern. While he had heard of looting and some possible homicides being committed, he was relatively certain that even looters and murderers would allow a fire engine to pass. Even at their worst, most people recognized the value and benefit of a functioning hospital and would not interfere with firemen trying to do their jobs.
With that in mind, he ordered two engine companies of firefighters to report to the hospital with a third to stand in ready reserve. These men were dispatched within minutes of the onset of the tumult at the hospital. Unfortunately, due to some unforeseen atmospheric interference, he had lost contact with his men shortly after their arrival at the scene. After several attempts using a wide range of tools to re-establish a communication link, he had decided that he and the third engine company would wade into the fray to lend their support to their comrades already engaged.
He climbed into his red sport utility vehicle that served as his command vehicle and led the way. As they got nearer, he saw more and more people running from the scene. It must be worse than he originally thought. There were abandoned police cars on either side of the road and other vehicles scattered here and there, some still in the road with engines idling. The sun was still coming up, so he was unsure what the objects were that were lying about, though they seemed eerily similar to bodies. He was suddenly worried that perhaps there had been a chemical spill of some sort that was posing a respiration hazard. He called back on his radio to the engine following him and voiced his concerns about possible toxic fumes in the air. He and the company chief decided that they needed to press on and would observe the strictest caution in their approach.
They were soon on Providence Drive and only a handful of blocks from the hospital. It was here that things really began to sour. Owen could see the pulsing lights of one of his engines in the distance. It didn’t appear as if it had actually made it to the hospital. He tried to reach his silent teams with his radio and then with his cell phone. Nothing. He was going into the emergency scene completely blind as to what to expect. It was troubling, but he was a firefighter and, as such, was expected to think on his feet and use his better judgment in just such scenarios.
He pressed his accelerator and sped ahead of the more cumbersome fire engine. If he could get a better idea of the nature of the emergency, he might be able to better prepare his men for what to expect. He wasn’t quite sure what to anticipate himself, but for what he saw there was no anticipating.
One of his dispatched fire engines was just around the bend in the road and just short of the hospital. It was sitting slightly off the road with its lights still flashing. The eerie thing about it was that there was no one around. Not a single one of his men could be seen. There were helmets and some other emergency gear scattered around, but no firefighters. He called again on his radio. Still nothing. He slowed his vehicle to get a better look, then lowered his window and called on his radio again. Even from there he could hear his voice come from the radio in the open cab of the large emergency vehicle.
Then he saw a body lying face down on th
e side of the road, wearing a firefighter’s heavy coat. He slammed on his brakes and leapt from his truck. Instinctively, he put on his helmet and ran across the road to the fallen fireman. Owen ran through his training and followed the proper routine for approaching a potentially injured person in an emergency setting.
He called as he neared him, “Can you hear me? I’m here to help. Are you okay?”
There was no response. He picked up his pace and was almost next to the man when he noticed some movement. A group of screaming, fleeing people caught his eye and distracted him for a moment. He looked back down and the man was slowly lifting himself up onto all fours. Owen leaned down and got an arm under his fallen comrade to help hoist him up onto his feet. His hand was immediately wet and sticky. He withdrew it involuntarily and was disgusted to see that it was covered in blood...rich, bright red blood. He almost fell backward.
When the firefighter was fully on his feet but still not facing him, Owen asked cautiously, “Are you okay?”
The stricken man spun around and grabbed hold of the Battalion Chief, sinking his teeth into his cheek. Owen kicked the other man hard in the leg, knocking him off balance enough to get away. He turned to escape, but ran headlong into another person, a woman, whose left side of her face was mutilated. Her eye socket was ripped open horribly and her eye was gone. Her ear was also missing and huge swaths of skin from her neck had been shorn away by something. Owen tried to speak, but she was on him before a single word could be uttered. The firefighter still behind him was also grabbing at him as the two pulled him from his feet.
His radio was squawking desperately as the fire engine following him arrived on the scene.
Chapter 14
After their official, if brief, introductions, Neil and Rachel formulated a plan, deciding what was absolutely necessary should their time be cut short. She was going to get a cart and head toward the canned foods, bottled water, granola bars, and anything else that required the least amount of preparation. He headed for the Sports Department to look at the guns and camping gear.
The Sports Department was more or less in the middle of the store. Even without the signs pointing him that way, he could have found it by moving toward the fishing poles whose long necks peered up and over the tops of the tall shelving units that delineated shopping aisles. In the midst of the department sat a locked glass cabinet, behind which stood a bank of carefully displayed rifles and shotguns. He had never owned a firearm before, but was not intimidated by them either. He realized, however, that he wasn’t entirely sure what to get. He climbed over the counter and was immediately overwhelmed with the varieties. He knew that he wanted at least one hunting rifle with a scope, maybe a couple of shotguns, and at least one smaller rifle. The glass cabinet holding the handguns was also of interest to him. He wanted to have everything that they might need. Deciding on the handguns first, he retrieved a fire extinguisher from a support column and smashed the top of the cabinet. He just started grabbing everything onto which he could lay his hands. He grabbed heavy revolvers and lighter, sleeker automatics. There were some laser sights and other accessories in the bottom, but he elected not to get these. He then moved his shopping cart over to the wall behind and by the armloads started to empty the shelves of ammunition. He grabbed everything; not a bit was left. On top of all of this he piled several rifles, more rifles than he had originally intended. Of course, all of the firearms had locked security bolts essentially freezing their triggers. Noting this, but deciding to move on and deal with it later, Neil next went to the camping section.
From these aisles, Neil put his hands on sleeping bags, hooking them to the outside of the cart. He was just about to pile in a small tent when a voice behind him made him jump.
“What the hell are you doing?”
He turned to see the woman whose voice hard startled him. It was the manager...or at least a manager of the store. She seemed too young to be the general manager, but her nametag, which read “Meghan”, also boasted that she was “Management.” She glared at him with her intense blue eyes, demanding a response.
Neil was embarrassed during the brief silence that ensued. Looking down at the shopping cart and at the potential arsenal in it, he was at a loss for words to explain his actions. He was finding it hard to immediately explain to her why he was doing what he was doing. He wasn’t quite sure how many laws he had broken but he was relatively certain that it was more than he could imagine. It just wasn’t in his nature to break the law and yet he hadn’t even hesitated to steal and vandalize.
More annoyed than anything else the woman asked, “What the hell is going on today? Has everyone gone crazy?”
Stuttering, Neil tried, “I...um...I...”
“I mean, first no one shows up for work this morning...last time I’m hiring college students that live on campus. I mean, you’d think as close as it was it would be a snap to get here for work. And then you...are you looting?”
“No.” Of this Neil was adamant. Looting just seemed too random and self-serving. What he had done was self-preserving. “Have you turned on a radio this morning? Watched the news? Anything?”
Thoughtfully, she answered, “Uhhh, no. My radio is on the blink in my car and the music in here is a recording.”
Knowing that this would be the quickest way to get his point across, Neil suggested, “Why don’t you go call the police. I’ll come with you.”
They went to the front of the store to use the phone at the Customer Service Desk. Meghan was careful to go inside the enclosure and leave Neil standing on the store sales floor. In case he was off the deep end, she wanted to have something between her and him, even if it was only the pressboard walls of the customer service island. After she dialed and heard the same recording Neil had heard earlier, she dialed her home number; same recording. She took her cell phone from her pocket and tried that as well only to get the same frustrating message.
Neil said, “Let’s go over to the Electronics section and check out the news. Maybe someone is still broadcasting.” Test patterns were on every television from every station; a simple message ran along the bottom that a word from the Emergency Broadcast System would follow shortly.
Meghan asked again as she accompanied Neil out to his van which was parked just outside the doors, “What’s going on?”
Seriously, almost apologetically, Neil looked her squarely in the eyes and said, “I don’t honestly know for sure. I just saw the most disturbing and frightening thing I think I could ever imagine.”
And so, as they finished unloading the supplies he had gathered into the rear hatch and back seat of his van and then went back into the store to load the cart with other necessities such as matches and fire starting bricks, batteries, first aid supplies, and anything else they thought might be useful, he told her about what had happened to Rachel and him at their office building. Neil avoided any speculation or editorializing about the events; there really wasn’t any point. The facts themselves were staggering enough without side comments.
Perhaps it was because of the way that Neil had talked about it, but Meghan felt compelled to believe the story. When she saw Rachel pass by with a cart so full she could barely push it, she knew they were telling the truth. There was something that still clung to Rachel’s face and eyes. A sense of fear and doubt just seemed to cling to the other woman.
They were startled when a new voice shouted from the front of the store, “Hellllllooooo! Is there anyone herrrrreee? Can anyone help us?”
Neil and Meghan pushed their full cart out to the voice, which happened to be on the way to the van parked out front. It was a younger man, not much more than a kid really, who waited for them by the Customer Service Desk. He had two young children who looked wild-eyed and scared with him.
Chapter 15
Jerry recounted to the others what had happened at the hospital, allowing Danny and Jules to fill in details of how it all began with poor little Martin and their caveman.
“...so, we got out
to my car in the parking garage and then there was all this screaming and running all around us. There were people running every which way. Some were chasin’ and some were fleein.’ We were already in our car and moving, so we were able to get the hell outta Dodge before it was too late. There weren’t a whole lot of others who were that lucky though. A bus pulled up just as we got out onto Providence Drive. I don’t think the driver could see what was going on ‘cause he just opened his doors and waited, like everything was still normal and he was just going to pick up his passengers like any other day. Those things were on there before he could do anything. I think I saw the bus start moving again, but we just wanted to get away fast.”
Jules pulled on Jerry’s blue paper thin “scrub” pants and asked him but loud enough for everyone to hear clearly, “What about my Mom and Dad? Where are they? Are they going to be alright?”
Jerry couldn’t look down at her. He just couldn’t bring himself to do that. He knew the probable fate of the little girl’s parents. They had been there at the epicenter of all of the chaos. He touched her lightly on her head. He swallowed hard and instead looked at the other adults.
The question hung in the air, though, for all of the adults gathering around to hear, and Rachel had by then joined them. Meghan was still not sure what was happening. Neil and Rachel had seen an attack and were not sure of what they had actually seen other than a very grisly and bizarre murder. Jerry was the only one among them who understood and even he wasn’t entirely able to wrap his mind around the truth.
The air was heavy with unease and doubt. They looked at one another for a brief few moments unsure of what to do. Neil interrupted the silence with, “Okay. Unless there are any objections, I think we should try and sort things out somewhere other than here. Does anyone live close by?”
Alaskan Undead Apocalypse | Books 1 & 2 | Infection & Containment Page 5
