Back 2 Life
Part 1: Wood, Man
Chapter 1: Urban Sprawl- The Hospital
Omaha, Nebraska
The world had gone to hell. That much Max knew was true. At a whooping total of 16 years alive, the world had finally gone to hell. She ran out of the house and took a short cut to the driveway, jumping from the two-foot tall retaining wall then sprinting to the car that three other people she called family used. They had packed lightly, an extra set of clothes, her music, and an inhaler. It was almost like a road trip, except for the fact that the world was now infested with zombies.
"The infection has spread rapidly. Everyone remain calm and do not make any contact with infected persons." The Radio said, the voice sounding irritatingly calm for such a situation. A small group of infected had broken though the screen door in the back of their house. It wasn't safe anymore.
'Right, infected…not zombies.' Max thought wryly, buckling up and looking at her brother. He looked just as flustered as she did; his dark skin was shiny with sweat. He glanced her way and smiled nervously.
"Well, we made it." He said, his voice shaking.
"We made it out of the house." Max pointed out, her voice wavering too. He swallowed nervously, and then looked out the front window. They both clutched their seatbelts as the car ran down the road at dangerous speeds. All around outside cars were flying past and people were screaming. From her side of the window, she spotted a few fires in the distance. She sighed and settled into the seat, clutching her bag to her. It was going to be-
"Shit! Hold on kids!" Her dad yelled, swerving violently out of the way of another car.
"Michael!" She yelled, clutching her brother.
"Max!" He yelled back, gripping her shoulders fearfully. Max and her brother stayed huddled together, stretching their seatbelts towards each other. Hot tears streamed out of her eyes, soaking her brother's shirt. Their mother reached back and smoothed down their hair, looking just as afraid as her children.
"It's alright, were almost there." She said, rubbing their backs soothingly. She looked at both of them with worried eyes, before turning to face the road. Max swallowed nervously, sitting back in her seat and clutching her seatbelt tightly. Outside she caught glimpses of people running, and people being overtaken by zomb- infected. She shuddered and turned away from the window, staring blankly at the black leather of the seat. She studied the cracks and creases, passing the time while nervously chewing the inside of her cheek. Her palms were sweating, and wiping them on her pants didn't help any.
The car took two sharp corners then halted suddenly. They were at the medical center turned evacuation station. The family of four jumped out of the car, the two teenagers slinging backpacks over their shoulders. They sprinted to a back entrance up an access ramp. Her dad leaned down and swiped his badge, unlocking the door. They all ran inside, and Max tried her best to keep the screams from sticking in her ears. Nervous panic rose in her chest as she ran through the halls, making their way up to the top of the building. Her mother had just opened the stairwell door when a security officer descended the last step. His bushy eyebrows rose in surprise, but they quickly fell again.
"I'm sorry sir, but you and your family will have to wait in the cafeteria." He instructed, holding out a hand.
"I work here, I should be-" Her dad started, but he was soon interrupted.
"Everyone has been ordered to go down, even me. C.E.D.A's choppers have been delayed. They should be here in about ten minutes." He walked out of the stairwell and closed the door behind him. To Max he looked worn out, tired. She knew that usually made people grumpy. And grumpy people meant no negotiations. She sighed inwardly, but followed close after her brother and parents, walking downstairs to the cafeteria.
"…and may the lord watch over our souls." Niles finished, looking sadly at the thin chain that fell around his thick hands. The metal of the small cross had been warmed by his hands, but he could still feel its comforting form on his palms. He laced his fingers together, and rested his lips on the nails of his thumbs. His fingertips were cold, but his heart was hammering. On his way in it was only thanks to a C.E.D.A worker that he had even managed to get in here. Some sort of creature had come out of nowhere. At first he though it was a demon, though it was a thought purely based on sudden panic. The once human thing had been shot down with an expert shot to the temple, and a young man had hurried him inside. He had offered to get him something warm to drink, but Niles had declined, preferring to sit and pray.
Niles moved his cheek to rest on his fingers, letting the unusually cold appendages to warm up by his hot cheek. He looked around, watching as families and single people slowly filed in the crowded cafeteria. There was a line to get bottled water, and a few of C.E.D.A.'s people were handing out protective masks. Somewhere in the room, a child started to cry. It broke his heart to hear that sound. He moved his head to the other side of his fingers, and then leaned back in his chair to fasten the cross around his neck.
A family of four walked into the throng of people, scanning the crowd for a place to sit. They moved around, scoping out possible seats and finding none. He watched them until the son looked his way. He waved him over, and he nodded back gratefully. The four moved over and managed to sit down on the ground or the chairs that somehow managed to stay open.
"I'm Niles." He said, holding out a hand to the father of the group.
"Mathew." The man replied, shaking his hand.
"Hope." The mother said, shaking his hand as well. Niles nodded with a smile.
"And these are our children. Michael and Max." Hope said, motioning to each.
"Ello." Michael said, holding out a hand to him. He shook it, nodding and smiling. The daughter, Max shook his hand as well, but that was all he got out of her. She looked nervous, and clung to her bag in her lap. Michael gave his sister a sympathetic look then explained
"She's shy around new people. She likes you just fine." His sister shot him a look with a quirky smirk and a bright smile. She bobbed her head in agreement, seeming to relax a bit.
"Great to know. Do any of you know why we aren't upstairs yet?" He asked, resting his elbows on his knees and looking at Mathew and Hope.
"Well, apparently C.E.D.A's had some trouble with their choppers. I haven't the faintest clue as to what it could be though." Hope said with disapproval clear in her voice.
"Their pilots probably got turned." Mathew said to his sister. She rolled her eyes, and shook her head.
"Or they had engine trouble." She said, giving her older brother a 'really now?' look. Niles smiled inside; he remembered how he and his siblings had acted when they were younger. The good old days really, mischief almost everyday of the week and black eyes about once a month. Niles shook his head, then settled in to chat away the minutes.
Tim tuned out the noise of the bar easily; he always did whenever he started thinking. The trial had ended only a few minutes ago, and now he sat with a stocky glass between his hands. Now he had to write a paper on the trial, summarizing how he thought the trial went, the various points of interest in said trial, and why he thought the jury and judge could have or should have ruled. Already the paper next to his drink had a full outline that already needed revising. The man being tried had supposedly recovered from the Green Flu, and was charged on the account of Murder, he pleaded insanity, claiming the entire event was all a blur to him. Tim claimed it a bullshit.
"Hey buddy, you sure you should be drinking and writing at the same time?" Someone asked, leaning over to glance at his paper.
"I just want something to hold." Tim replied coolly, not looking at the guy next to him. He moved his paper closer and looked over the various points. He pulled out his pen and put a line though it, deducing that it was irrelevant. He started rewriting the bullet point when a small group of men in yellow walked in. Around the bar the words 'C.E.D.A' were whispered, and the T.V. was turned off, cutting the newscaster from Savannah Georgia off mid sentence. The men in yellow glanced at each other through their haz-mat suits, then the leader stepped foreword.
"We are here to guide all of you to safety at the hospital. Choppers will be evacuating people there soon."
Everyone looked around at each other for a brief moment, the silence unbroken by anything. Then Tim stood up, and started to pack his bag. He placed money on the counter for his drink, and then walked out the door. The sounds of scraping chairs were soon to follow in his wake. People, all they ever need is a leader. He hopped into the back of one of C.E.D.A's vans, ignoring the people rushing to the hospital on the road. More people filed in after him, soon packing the crammed space. He settled back and stared at a corner. The corner wasn't proving to be much of interest, so he closed his eyes and rested, making sure to keep his hair off the side of the van. It was uncomfortable to have the gel spiked hair poke into his skull. He picked a stray thread off of the crease of his suit. It was a ridiculous color, bright orange with grey compliments, but he liked it. Most people were thrown off. He had the hair of a punk, the style of a partier, and the attitude of a barracuda. He swayed slightly as the van started to move down the road at what felt like an alarming speed. He braced himself, and then looked toward the doors of the van. He was met by about a dozen pairs of eyes staring back. He shook his head then closed his eyes and turned away. The ride to the hospital was mostly uneventful. In the near windowless C.E.D.A. van, the only thing they could really see was through the back door. And no one wanted to look. The van eventually slowed down and stopped. The vans doors swung open and everyone inside was ushered out.
"Move it into the hospital people!" Without a second thought, Tim sprinted out of the van, it was survival of the fittest in the zombie apocalypse.
James stood on the roof, watching from his viewpoint as field agents tried their best to keep the infected away from the building while trying to help surviving individuals into safety. He gripped the rough surface of his Magnum's handle tighter. He felt a stab of guilt in his heart, if only they had told people sooner, set up evacuations sooner. If they had done that then they wouldn't be fighting for their own lives and the lives of innocents. He checked the three bile bombs strapped on his left side with his free hand, feeling the now familiar caps for reassurance.
"Joe, how's the chopper situation?" He called, turning away from the edge to talk to the communicator. The burly man held up a finger, listening to his radio.
"Uh huh, the schools? Ok, what about- good?…no. Shit." He sighed, and leaned back in his chair, searching the skies. "Very well, keep me updated and get who you can out to Arkansas." He lowered the headphones so they rested around his neck, and then turned to look at his fidgety co-worker.
"Relax James; they'll be here within five minutes." He turned to look at some readings, "Quit being such a bleeding heart."
He ground his teeth in frustration; he was no 'bleeding heart.' Ever since the Hurricane Katrina incident that had been his nickname. Last year he had even gotten a morbid valentine card. The Vampire-themed card pictured a vampire with its bloody hand holding out a literal bleeding heart, 'From your lover, Katrina.' It had said. James had taken the liberty to shred it immediately. He sighed in frustration then set the safety on his pistol before placing it in his holster.
"I'm just worried Joe. A man was almost killed on our front steps on his way in less than an hour ago." He explained, chewing on his lip before moving to the edge again. It was almost noon; they should have shipped out at least half of the people downstairs by now. All around he heard screams and gunshots, and he kept an eye out for any of the advanced infected prepared to alert the nearest sniper of its position. There were a total of six they had recorded, from most known down they were: The Boomer, the Hunter, the Smoker, the Spitter, the Tank, and the Witch. Unfortunately, the only one they really knew was the Boomer. It was the only infected they had been able to keep contained. Thanks to the bloated infected, they had managed to develop bombs that worked on infected individuals. Everyone had been given a few samples, while the remaining bombs had been shipped off to designated 'Safe-Rooms' around the country.
James blew air through his lips; at least they were able to get construction workers in to set up set locations with reinforced doors. They were varied locations, but each was stocked with medical kits, pain killers, cots or beds, and rations. It was the least they could do on a short notice. He shook his head, and then started to walk around the parameter of the landing pad. Out of the corner of his eye, he noticed a rather large group of survivors running though the parking lot. He watched them nervously, still walking around the building when suddenly a chunk of concrete slammed down right next to him. He jumped, and shot a look over the edge. He hoped that it wasn't what he thought it was, unfortunately though; it was indeed the Tank he saw in the west parking lot. Its brutal roars were just faintly audible from this high up, but he still knew the danger.
"Tank! West parking lot!" One of the snipers called, less than ten feet from James.
"Small group of common infected entering from the south." Another called, alerting the ground crew with the walky-talky next to him.
"We got a Hunter climbing up the walls." A third called, and James felt a tremor of panic. He pushed it down and took a deep breath.
"I'm going downstairs. We need to get some people up here." James said, sprinting across the landing pad and down the stairs.
"James! The choppers will be here soon! Hurry it up…." He didn't quite catch the last of what Joe said, but he yelled back a hurried 'ok' before the door shut.
Everyone's heads turned when the door opened. Max craned her neck to catch a glimpse of a young man in the doorway. His bright yellow uniform clearly stated who he worked for, and everyone waited to hear what he said. He looked intimidated by the sheer amount of people, but the look soon passed. He straightened his back and squared his shoulders, then spoke, his voice calm.
"The choppers will be here soon, we should be able to take about twenty or thirty people if we manage the space correctly." He held up his hands as people started crowding around him, their voices angry, scared, or both. Max looked at her family and Niles, neither of them showed signs of moving from their spot. They were the furthest from the door. Her father sighed.
"At least someone's keeping us informed." He said, resting his head in his hands.
"Well, why aren't we trying to get out?" Michael asked, standing up angrily. He started moving towards the door, when suddenly the crowd split like startled sheep. Even the young man was startled when the doorway was flooded with zombies. Screams filled the area as people tried to get away, and others failed to. People started to rush out of the door, and Max found herself cut off from her family. She struggled to stand, but she was repeatedly knocked down by the swarm of people trying to escape. She curled up in a ball, wrapping her arms around the back of her neck as the crowd started to thin out. She felt a hand grab her just above the elbow, and instantly she was thankful that someone was helping her up admits all the screaming and chaos. That was until nails started biting into her skin.
"Ow, hey watch…" She stopped midsentence screaming, the twisted face of an infected man hovering over her. His nails scratched her as she pulled away. Two more zombies crowded around her, pulling at her arms and hair. She struggled to get away, yelling gibberish all the while. Her heart was pounding hard in her chest, as she struggled to get away.
"HELP!" She yelled, tears welling up in her eyes as the infected beat at her with their fists. She did her best to protect her face, but her arm took the beating. An infected set of teeth bit into her arm. The sudden 'bang!' of gunfire startled her, but the infected slumped to the ground, dead. Max started to fall down too, but a pair of large hands kept her from falling.
"Come on Max, keep on your feet!" Max forced her legs under her, swallowing repeatedly. She hugged her left arm close to her, while trying to keep from shaking herself to pieces. She leaned gratefully against Niles, her eyes wide. Her heart was fluttering in her chest, and her arm felt like it was on fire. She looked up as a flash of yellow came near her. She opened her mouth to talk, but she was interrupted by him.
"Take a deep breath and let it out." He instructed, waving a finger around his face. She followed his instructions while her eyes followed his fingers. The moment she exhaled, he grabbed her wrist and poured a clear liquid over it. She sucked in a breath as the cool liquid burned her arm, the pain making her knees buckle under her. Niles tried to keep her up, but in the end he followed her to the ground, kneeling in a pool of blood.
"I'm really sorry about that." The young man said, pulling out a wrap of gauze from his pocket. "I just had to make sure that either it or you don't get infected." He wrapped the gauze around her bite carefully. Then poured a small amount of alcohol on the scratch on her other arm. Max felt the world around her spin as the pain flared up but she kept herself from fainting. Pristinely white gauze was wrapped around her upper arm, the flowing blood soon staining the material.
"Alright, how are you feeling? Cold, feverish?" The C.E.D.A worker pulled out a small flashlight from a red kit strapped on his side. He flashed her eyes, checking for any sign of the pupils and iris' misting over. Max shook her head, she just felt dizzy and sick.
"My parents…" She mumbled, looking around. She hadn't realized how many infected could swarm in. Bodies littered the ground, along with emptied clips and stray bits of jewelry. Niles blocked her vision with a dark hand; she looked up to see him shaking his head.
"You don't want to see." He said, averting his eyes from where the bodies lay. Max shuddered, and looked at the worker. His face was stressed as he replaced the flashlight.
"What happened?" She asked, climbing shakily to her feet. Niles helped her gently, while also blocking her view with his body. He shook his head, lowering a pair of silver eyes.
"I don't know. I was just going to check when I noticed you were still standing. I'm lucky your friend here knew how to shoot a gun." He gave Niles an appreciative look, which he returned with a frown.
"God didn't give me fingers to shoot." He sighed, "But your welcome." The worker nodded, and then started off towards the door he had come out of.
"I'm going to check the roof." He said, trotting up the stairs.
"I'll come too." Max said, tripping slightly as she ran after him.
"Wait, don't get ahead of yourself." Niles said, steadying her with a hand on her shoulder. Max looked back at him, her eyes fearful.
"I don't want to stay here." She whispered, keeping her eyes on his face. Niles blinked, understanding.
"Alright, I'm coming too." They ran after the C.E.D.A worker, who was waiting on the steps.
"I'm Max." She said, forcing herself not to think about what had just happened.
"I'm James." He said, and then stepped onto the landing pad.
And watched as the choppers left without them.
