Stella beamed. “Of course.”
“I need you to keep an eye on the walkway between the hospital and garage and let me know if you see any deaders.”
The girl ran off.
“I think I can get us out of here,” said Alissa. “If we—”
Courtney shook her head. “We’re not going with you.”
“What do you mean? You can’t stay here.”
“She’s in no shape to crawl down the side of a building and try to make it to your car. Even if we did get out, then what? How long do you think she’ll survive out there?”
Alina couldn’t respond. Courtney was right.
Courtney tried to comfort her. “Don’t worry about us. We’ll stay up here where Stella’s happy.”
Alissa sighed. “If I make it out, I’ll send help.”
“We both know that’s not going to happen.” Courtney said it out of resignation, not vindictiveness.
Alissa pulled the second Glock from her waistband and handed it to Courtney. “At least take this to defend yourself.”
“Thank you.” Courtney took the weapon, popped out the magazine, and emptied all the rounds into her hand. She slid two bullets back into the magazine, loaded it into the Glock, and slipped it between her back and the waistband of her scrubs. Cupping the top of Alissa’s right hand, she poured the remaining bullets into it and gently squeezed. “This is all I need.”
Alissa hugged Courtney before heading for the west side of the building, not wanting her friend to see her tears.
Chapter Five
Alissa leaned over the side of the building, studying the scaffolding and the façade. The fifth window along the fourth floor had been removed and a plastic tarpaulin taped across the opening, which would be easy enough to remove. Since the patient rooms along this corridor were vacant during the renovations, she felt pretty confident she would not crash into the room like a 1980’s action hero only to be devoured by a pack of deaders. The toughest part would be getting down to that level. She had a drop of fifteen feet from the top of the roof to the wooden planks running the length of the scaffold. How difficult could it be?
Alissa sat on the parapet and swung around so her legs dangled off the side, the end of the scaffold on her right. The jump did not seem quite as simple from this angle. The only other option was down the stairwell leading here, which would be suicide. She took a deep breath, told herself everything would be okay, and pushed herself off. She landed on the catwalk with no problem. However, the momentum kept her moving forward and she toppled over the railing.
Reaching out, Alissa clutched at the metal supports, desperate to break her fall. She grabbed one of the diagonal braces with her right hand, which saved her from plummeting to her death. The weight of Alissa’s body pulled her down, dragging her hand along the metal until it slammed into the juncture with the horizontal brace beneath it. She winced as pain shot through her fingers and down her arm. Alissa would have to worry about that later. Reaching out with her left hand, she took hold of one of the horizontal braces along the end of the scaffold and placed her left foot on top of the joint where they connected. The horizontal braces formed a makeshift ladder. One foot and hand at a time, she moved herself from the front of the scaffolding to the end, climbed up to the catwalk, and cautiously crawled over the guardrail.
Only then did Alissa realize how fast her heart pounded. She let herself calm down for a moment as she plotted her next move, warning herself against being overconfident. After a minute, she gingerly moved down to the tarpaulin-covered window.
Peering inside, Alissa could barely make out anything in the room. Most of the standard furnishings were covered with drop cloths to prevent them from getting dusty. She knocked on the metal frame. Nothing moved, so she tore down the covering, ready to duck out of the way if something appeared. Crawling over the sill, she entered the room. She heard some screaming and an occasional gunshot, but the sounds were muffled, coming from the floors below. For now, she was safe. It gave her time to check her wound.
Going into the bathroom, Alissa switched on the light and examined her right hand. Her palm was raw from where it slid along the metal base. She probably would have blisters by morning. There were a couple of jagged cuts, probably from scraping the palm along rusted spots. Turning the faucet on low so the noise would not attract attention, she cleaned the palm, knowing a fifty-fifty chance existed they would become infected. Once clean, Alissa dabbed the wound with paper towels, wincing at the stinging. Holding her right palm in front of her, she curled her fingers inward. The ring finger hurt, the pain running along the left side of the palm. The pinky did not move, sitting at an awkward angle with swelling around the base. She felt the length of it. Nothing seemed broken and the entire finger moved as one. She had only dislocated it. Alissa placed her left forefinger on top of the dislocated pinky and the left thumb beneath it, took a deep breath to brace herself, and snapped the finger back into place, stifling her cry of pain into a moan. It hurt and would bruise but should be okay in a few days.
Looking in the mirror for the first time, Alissa realized blood and gore covered her face and uniform. For a moment, she feared she might be infected but, if she was, she would have turned by now. Turning the water back on, she washed her face and hands, then used paper towels to wipe the chunks of brains and body matter off her scrubs. Appearing only slightly more presentable, she exited the bathroom and made her way to the door.
Alissa opened it slowly, listening for movement. Not hearing any, she peered out and scanned the corridor. Nothing. She stepped out and headed for the nurses’ station, searching through it until she found a drawer of wrapping gauze. She used one to wrap around her hand and cover the scratches, holding it in place with several strips of surgical tape, and then did the same to her pinky and ring finger, using the latter as the brace. The other three rolls of gauze, two rolls of bandages, and a small pair of scissors went into the pocket with the spare rounds. Removing the Glock from the waistband of her scrubs, Alissa popped out the magazine. She refilled the magazine with the loose bullets Courtney had given her, then slid it back into the semi-automatic.
The main pharmacy was located on the first floor but she had no way to get there. However, each floor had a med room that should have penicillin and anything else she needed.
A weary, muffled voice called out from one of the rooms near the nurse’s station. “Is anyone there?”
Alissa removed the Glock and held it in front of her. She followed the voice to Room 412 and hid behind the wall.
“Who are you?”
“Jim. Jim Brody.” A pause. “Janet, is that you?”
Alissa stepped into the room. A middle-aged man lay in a hospital bed. An IV tube fed into his left arm and a blood pressure cup and heart rate monitor were attached to his right. An oxygen mask covered his face. His eyes had a dull, tired expression to them but lit up when he saw Alissa. He pulled the mask from his face.
“Are you my new nurse?”
Alissa entered the room, checking to make certain they were alone. “New nurse?”
“Yeah. Something happened about fifteen minutes ago and all the doctors are nurses ran out of here. Something about an outbreak in the ER. I’ve been buzzing for ten minutes, but no one has answered. Are we going to be okay?”
“We?”
“Me and the other patients.”
The terrible realization dawned over Alissa. She had been so preoccupied with saving her own life she had forgotten that there were patients still in the hospital who were sitting ducks when the deaders reached the upper floors. She walked over to the bed and checked Jim’s vitals.
“What are you here for?”
“I had triple bypass surgery yesterday.”
“How are you feeling?”
“Scared and in a lot of pain.”
Alissa remained professional. “That’s only natural. It’s going to be awhile before you start feeling like yourself again.”
Jim reache
d out a shaky hand and placed it over her wrist. “What about what’s going on in the ER?”
“Don’t worry about that,” Alissa lied. “There was a bad accident on 93 with a lot of injuries, and they were all brought here. It’s an all-hands-on-deck situation.”
“When will they be back?” Jim wheezed.
Alissa replaced his oxygen mask and forced a smile. “Soon. Can I get you anything in the meantime?”
“I could use some morphine for the pain.”
“Let me see what I can do.”
Alissa patted Jim on the arm and left. Once in the corridor and out of his line of sight, she leaned against the wall and broke down, sliding down along the wall and laying her head against the surface. For the first time, she heard the steady tone of the call box at the nurse’s station. The call light above every door on this side of the corridor was lit. Twenty lights, which meant twenty rooms filled with patients left to die. She had to make the final decision about their fate because she probably would be the last living person they would encounter.
Everything Alissa had learned as a nurse, every decent, human part of her soul, told her to save the patients. However, reality threw cold water on her emotions. Staying to protect them would be suicide and would do nothing more than slow their deaths by a few seconds, the amount of time it would take the deaders to strip her bones clean. Nothing could protect the bed ridden. As for the ambulatory, she could take them with her, but their chances of escaping from the deaders were less than if they stayed in their rooms and waited for help to arrive. Even if by some miracle she could save these twenty patients, what about those in the other wings on this floor, or the two floors below. Alissa sobbed as the truth struck home with a cruel harshness. Unless this outbreak could be contained and eradicated within twenty-four hours, which seemed highly unlikely based on what she had witnessed, most of these patients were as good as dead.
A woman’s scream and the muffled sounds of snarling echoed through the elevator shaft across from the nurse’s station, snapping Alissa back to the present. She came here for a reason, as selfish as it might be, and could not allow herself to be sidetracked if she hoped to live through the next hour. Standing up, she headed back to the nurses’ station, ignoring the voices that called to her from each room she passed. Having any contact with them would only make it harder to carry through with her decision. When she reached the med room, she searched for her badge to unlock the electronic latch. Fuck! She lost her badge. Alissa searched on the station desk, moving papers and checking the stackable letter trays, hoping one of the nurses or doctors had left theirs behind. Nothing. One by one, she pulled open the drawers and rummaged through each. In the fifth one, she found an ID card attached to a lanyard and flipped it over. A young, smiling, blonde stared back. Patricia Menninger. If the charge nurse had caught Patricia leaving her badge unattended, she would have written her up.
Returning to the med room, Alissa swiped the badge, giving her access. She emptied the dispenser containing penicillin, popping two pills into her mouth and forcing them down without water, then took the dispenser of Percocet, figuring she would need those for her finger later tonight. She slid the bottles into her scrub’s pocket beside the gauze. As Alissa headed out, she paused. Going back inside, she picked up two more items before leaving.
Alissa closed the door to each hospital room as she passed, offering the patients inside some level of protection from the deaders, no matter how minimal. Each called to her and begged for help, but she ignored them, refusing to make any connection. After all the rooms were secure, she backtracked to Room 412.
Jim broke into a smile when Alissa entered and removed his oxygen mask. “You came back?”
“I told you I would.” She held up a bottle or morphine. “Let’s take care of your pain.”
Facing the window so Jim could not see, Alissa inserted a syringe into the bottle and filled it with one milliliter of morphine. She inserted the needle into the injection port of Jim’s IV system and pressed the plunger, not stopping until she dispensed the entire amount. Alissa removed the needle and placed it on the nightstand.
“You should feel better soon.”
“Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” Alissa replaced his mask and gently stroked his forehead.
The effects of the morphine were immediate. Jim closed his eyes and slipped into a peaceful slumber. His vital signs slowed, his blood pressure and heart rate dropping until the warning signal on the monitor blared. Alissa stopped stroking Jim and shut off the monitor. She pulled the covers over his face and rushed out.
Chapter Six
Alissa headed for the stairwell at the rear of the hospital, the one farthest from the lobby. The chances were greater that the deaders had not reached there yet. At least she prayed they had not. She removed the Glock from the waistband of her scrubs and held it in her right hand, a task made more difficult by her pinky and ring fingers being bandaged. She peered through the small window, twisting her head from side to side, not seeing any deaders. Opening the door a few inches, she listened for several seconds for the sound of anything not human. The only noises came from deep within the building. She stepped onto the landing, closed the door slowly so it made no sound, and proceeded down.
As Alissa turned the bend in the stairs above the second-floor landing, a male figure in a white lab coat leaned against the wall, holding the right side of his abdomen and panting for breath. Blood stained the front of his lab coat and trousers. He made eye contact as Alissa raised the Glock.
“Put the gun down. I’m human.”
Alissa lowered the barrel. “Where did all that blood come from?”
The doctor pulled aside his right hand, revealing a gaping wound. Teeth marks were visible along the edges. A portion of his intestines had been chewed open, allowing fluid and fecal matter to drip out. The intestines began to slip out of the wound until the doctor pushed them back in.
Alissa raised the Glock and aimed at his head.
“Stop being trigger happy. I’m not going to turn.”
“Yes, you are. Within a few minutes you’ll become one of those things.”
“I doubt it.”
“Why?”
“Because I got bit fifteen minutes ago. If I was going to turn, I would have done so by now. And I’m not feeling any symptoms of the virus.” The doctor winced. “Put that gun down before you kill me. I need your help.”
Alissa thought about her response long enough for it to be noticeable.
“Don’t worry,” the doctor said in a condescending tone. “I’m not going to ask you to save my life. I wouldn’t want to put you out. I need you to help me take some blood samples.”
“That’s not what—”
The doctor brushed her off. “If you’re going to help, let’s do this before I bleed out.”
Without waiting for a response, he opened the door and limped into the corridor. Alissa followed, propping it open with her back as she scanned the area for deaders. When she didn’t see any, she joined the doctor, placing his left arm over her shoulder and helping him walk.
“Where are we going?”
“There’s a pathology lab down on the left.” He motioned with his head.
Once at the lab, the doctor punched a six-digit code into the keypad. The lock opened with an electronic click. The doctor pushed his way inside. Alissa stopped to close the door manually so it would not slam shut. As she did, the doctor stumbled over to a stool by the elevated work bench and lifted himself onto it with a moan.
“By the way, I’m Doctor Edwards.”
“I’m Alissa.” She forewent any pleasantries and searched for syringes and needles. “How many vials of blood do you need?”
“Four.” He opened a drawer on the workbench, removed a notebook and pen, opened it to blank page, and began taking notes.
Alissa removed the vials from the bin on the counter. “Where are the needles?”
Edwards pointed with his pencil. �
�Second drawer down.”
Alissa opened it. Only rubber gloves were inside. She pulled out a pair and tossed them on the counter.
“They’re not in here.”
“Next one.” Edwards made no effort to hide his frustration.
She found a pile of needles, alcohol rubbing pads, gauze, and tape. Taking one of each, she went back to the doctor, ripped open the plastic wrapping on the needle, and inserted it into the first vial.
“What are you writing?”
“I’m taking notes on my condition.”
“Your intestinal wound?”
“That I was bitten by one of those things and haven’t turned. Maybe it’ll mean something later. Maybe not. But it’s better than sitting around here waiting to die.”
Alissa agreed. She slipped on the rubber gloves. “You’ll have to stop writing if you want me to take your blood. Give me you arm.”
Edwards placed down the pen and held out his right arm. Alissa wrapped the latex band around his upper arm and tied it tight. None of the veins were visible beneath the skin. She slapped the length of his arm, hoping to bring some to the surface, without success.
“Let me see your other arm.”
Edwards shifted his chair to face Alissa and held out his left arm. She examined it, slapping the skin several times, and could find no veins in this one either.
“I was afraid of this.”
“Afraid of what?”
“You’ve lost so much blood there’s little left in your extremities.” Alissa loosened the latex band and pulled it off his arm. “I’m going to have to get closer to where your blood now is. Pull your pants down.”
Edwards managed a chuckle. “I don’t think I’m up for that right now.”
Unbuckling his belt and unzipping his fly, the doctor slid his pants down to his knees, exposing his groin. Blood covered his left leg. Alissa moved to the other leg, tied the latex band above his knee, and slapped the skin. Several good-sized veins emerged. Unwrapping one of the alcohol pads, she wiped the skin then removed the plastic covering from the syringe, placed the needle against the skin, and inserted. Blood spurted into the vial for several seconds before the flow slowed to a trickle. With her other hand, Alissa massaged the leg below the injection point until blood filled the vial halfway.
Nurse Alissa (Book 1): Nurse Alissa vs. the Zombies Page 3
