Red burned along the Atlanta skyline, bathing Grady Memorial in a bright gleam of crimson. Inside lights flickered on and off in the halls, eliciting small cries from people as they moved towards the stairs. From the outside, the sounds of windows crashing, cars honking, and alarms blaring carried through the walls—painting a gruesome tale of what awaited them beyond the doors of the hospital.
She was running against the crowd of people streaming down the hallway, while what was left of the staff were helping patients evacuate the hospital.
Beth pushed her legs as fast as they could go.
The outbreak had changed everything. Beth had started on the Labor and Delivery floor after graduating with her degree in nursing and was just beginning to feel confident—she had found her niche working with babies. At twenty-two, she had her own small place in Atlanta and worked at a job she loved. She had successfully gotten out of her small hometown.
But now, with her scrubs bloodied and dark circles forming under her eyes from staying awake over the past twenty-four hours, she was definitely missing her quaint little town. The hospital had been packed with patients that were admitted after being bitten—suffering from periodic seizures before inevitably being burned out by a deadly fever. Considered highly contagious, isolation wards were designated to hold those infected, but the chilling truth was once they died they didn't stay dead.
A few days ago it was announced, through the Emergency Broadcast system, that Atlanta was officially declared a 'Refugee Zone', but that had all gone to hell over the past couple of hours. Everything had turned into complete chaos with the influx of people coming into the city, which had only proved to spread the infection faster. The authorities seemed to have lost any and all control over the situation, because they were now shooting people on the spot.
The sounds of gunshots echoed from below. They were getting closer, clearing each floor before moving to the next one. Tears burned her eyes, but she only pushed faster through the hall, brushing along the wall to stay out of the way, ignoring the cramping in her legs, she just had to keep moving. Busting through the emergency stairwell door, she took them two at a time to reach the fourth floor, using the railing to keep her from falling to the ground.
She was gasping when she finally reached the Maternity Ward.
The charge nurse and Beth's mentor, Susan, had given her two large bags of assorted baby supplies, formula and medicine from the storeroom to put in her car. Moving through the parking deck quickly and quietly had saved her life and allowed her to get all that stuff to Susan's Hummer. She had passed unseen by both the living and the dead.
Beth had to swallow down the terror at the things she witnessed—there was so much blood, screaming and gurgling.
Tears finally fell from her eyes as she moved down the now empty hallway, passing the vacant nursery. A few weeks ago babies had filled that nursery and eager fathers were pushing their faces up against the glass to get a closer look at their crying newborns.
Now it was empty and dark, the glass smeared with bloodied hand prints.
Multiple shots went off again making her flinch. She began to pick up her pace over the purple colored tile. Beth knocked three times against Susan's office door and felt relief when she saw a familiar face peer at her from the other side. Susan's short white-blonde hair was caked with blood and red dots, that had already dried, stuck to her face and neck.
Despite her unkempt appearance, her gray eyes were unyielding and focused. Her five-foot-nine frame was built to intimidate, plus her twenty years as an Army nurse only made her a more respected charge nurse.
Susan opened the door just enough to allow Beth's small frame to slide through, and the older woman surveyed either side of the hallway before shutting the door quietly behind her. A small body crashed against her legs, and she quickly bent down to lift the little girl into her embrace.
Family members had come to pick up most of the mothers, but one woman and her children fell through the cracks. Every day that her boyfriend hadn't come, Janice slipped deeper into depression. She still didn't understand that if he hadn't shown up by now, he wasn't going to.
She didn't have the heart to tell her that he did come back, but never made it past the lobby. She had seen him . . . slumped against the sitting area with a large chunk of flesh missing from his neck.
Janice was now left with a small baby boy, Christopher and a four-year old girl, Clara. Both children were blessed with red hair and big blue eyes, like their mother—all of them clueless about the danger they were now in.
"Did you find a safe path to the car?" Susan questioned promptly.
Beth nodded against Clara's shoulder, she wasn't ready to talk about what she saw—the horror was still too fresh and she dreaded leaving the safety of the small room again. Janice was sitting in a chair looking blankly at the bookshelf, dressed in a pair of dark blue scrubs, weakly rocking a sleeping Christopher in her arms.
Beth shared a worried glance with Susan; Janice had suffered a hard labor with considerable loss of blood. On top of her difficult labor, the added stress made her weak and her mental state seemed to be hanging by a thread.
She was concerned about getting Janice to the car safely. They were running out of time. Between the dead that roamed unchecked in the streets and the men inside the building with the guns that didn't give a damn whether you were bitten or not, they had to make their move.
"We have to go . . . those gunshots are getting closer, and we can't waste anymore time. We can make a new game plan after getting to some form of safety at my house. At least we'll have more weapons to arm ourselves with," Susan said, picking her gun up off her desk.
The long black knife she gave her burned against Beth's skin where it sat sheathed in the waistband of her scrubs waiting for her to whip it out against one of . . . one of those things. Although she couldn't fathom the thought of having to get so close to that snapping mouth in order to use it.
Susan heaved one more duffel bag over her shoulder and Beth walked over to Janice—Clara still safely tucked in her arms. "Janice? Janice we have to go."
Janice jumped slightly at the sound of her voice, appearing not to have even noticed her return; she looked unseeingly at Clara in Beth's arms. "I can't go out there . . . I have to wait for Daniel. How will he know where we are going if I leave?"
She felt guilt claw up her throat for what she was about to do, but she needed to get Janice moving—she needed to get this mother and her kids into that damn car. "We'll leave a note for him—when he comes looking he'll find it and meet us at Susan's house, okay? But we have to leave now, it's not safe for your babies here anymore!" she pleaded, darting her eyes back up to Susan for help.
"Janice, we're moving now. Let's put Christopher in his car seat," Susan's strong voice finalized the discussion. Briefly putting the duffel down, she swooped little Chris from his mother's arms, placing the still sleeping babe into his carrier before handing it over to Beth.
Finally getting everyone moving, Susan had the duffel returned to her and with Janice's arm swung over her shoulder, she carefully opened the door. Looking both ways, they were the first one's to head out of the room—gun first.
The little girl stood nervously beside her—the toddler picking up on Beth's anxious demeanor. All she could do was offer Clara a weak smile before pulling her along after the older pair into the bleak hallway.
She could feel her heart pounding faster as they moved down the stairs—pausing every few moments when they heard the sounds of gunfire reverberating throughout the stairwell. Thankfully they had avoided the traveling death squad.
Reaching the first floor, Janice's face had turned deathly pale from exertion and they still had a ways to go before reaching the car. Susan's jaw clenched against her own fatigue, but proceeded to half carry the redheaded woman along.
"Come on, girl!" Susan encouraged.
They were heading towards the lobby—the lobby had a long enclosed bridge connecting it with the parking deck. Susan had managed to park her vehicle on the third level, which was where the other end of the bridge opened. She was praying that Janice was too out of it to notice Daniel's body amongst the hoard of other bodies strewn about the room.
But the small group's luck had run out.
"Dan? Daniel!" Janice shrieked. Life seemed to have been shocked back into her as she ripped out of Susan's hold and ran over bodies to reach the blond man—Daniel's chin rested against his chest. She paused a moment, but eventually fell to her knees beside her lifeless boyfriend, choking back sobs. Janice's freckled hands pulled his head against her chest and continued to cry into the matted hair.
Susan shook her head and dropped the duffel—after checking on Beth and the kids she started making her way to the distraught mother. Susan was no more than seven feet away from them when Daniel's hand twitched ever so much and Janice in her distress didn't notice before it was too late. His blond mane reared up to reveal a pair of milky eyes and a deadly mouth—he struck her face within seconds ripping into her cheek with a deep groan. Blood sprayed from the wound and Janice screamed out in pain, but Daniel was on top of her digging into her without thought or mercy—driven by the plain instinct to feed.
Beth felt disbelief wash over her at the sight of Janice thrashing under the dead man, making bile rise up her throat. Everything went from fucking worse to really fucking worse.
Clara screamed, trying to pull from Beth's hold to get to her mom, and the baby awoke with cries of his own. The death squad obviously missed a few headshots because more bodies started moving along the floor—pushing themselves up onto their feet, seeming to be attracted to the loud sounds.
"Susan!" Beth yelled in warning. Susan had the gun pointed at Daniel and Janice, but turned back at Beth when she screamed her name.
Beth picked up a squirming Clara and tightly gripped the carrier between her arm and elbow. Knowing Susan would catch up with them after she grabbed the duffel bag, Beth took off across the bridge.
The screaming coming from the lobby made it almost impossible to hear if Susan was behind them, but the sounds of gunshots being fired became louder and louder, assuring Beth that Susan was right on her heels. The dead following close behind.
The street underneath the bridge was infested with walkers—more so than before when she came through the first time.
Finally reaching the end of the bridge she looked through the glass door into the deck. "Beth, where are the keys?" Susan asked breathlessly.
"My right leg pocket!"
Susan snatched them out of her scrubs and had the door open in a second—ushering her through with a 'hurry up' motion. The grunts and growls behind her made Beth push herself through the pain radiating in her arms and chest. The black Hummer looked like a godsend and Clara let out a childish screech when the glass separating the bridge and deck shattered behind them. Beth chanced a look back and saw that about twenty walkers were gaining ground on the group.
"Fuck Greene! Don't look back now. Come on, we're almost there! Just a little further!" Susan screamed over her shoulder.
She whipped her head forward at Susan's command. She found herself nearly in tears when the Hummer roared to life with a click of a button, and practically threw herself into the back seat with the kids still attached to her person. Adrenaline was coursing through her veins as Susan hit the gas, hightailing it down the deck path and into the darkness of the night.
Chris's carrier snapped into the car seat with a click and only after getting a seat belt on Clara, did Beth climb into the passenger seat and buckle up. She held her blonde hair away from her face with trembling hands while pitiful gasps left her lips.
The visions of what she had seen kept on playing on a loop in her head.
Beth couldn't say how long they were in the car; much less how Susan navigated the car through the congestion of Atlanta, but the older woman got them to the outskirts of the city. The car was silent when they finally pulled into the driveway, the kids quiet in the backseat as Susan killed the engine.
Susan's voice broke the stillness of the car and Beth flinched at the sound of her firm tone. "There was nothing we could have done, Beth."
She knew there was nothing they could have done after Daniel attacked Janice, but Susan was an amazing shot—why didn't she just put Janice out of her misery?
"Why didn't you just kill her after she was bitten? We left her there to be torn apart by those bastards—no one deserves to die like that," she whispered into the otherwise silent car.
Susan was quiet for an instant before answering, "We needed every bullet. What if I ran out of them before we got to the car?" Susan defended herself. Sighing she rubbed a hand down her face, but softly continued. "But that's on my conscious not yours, alright? It was my call."
Beth shook her head at her superior but didn't fight back—even though she should have. She was just so damn tired. Wiping her own face, she turned to look back at Clara. The little girl's red hair hung limply around her face and her blue eyes were red and puffy, her small nose bright red at the tip from crying.
A dull feeling settled in her stomach. What happens now?
Would the government even do anything for those that weren't infected?
The memory of the people that were supposed to be in charge, shooting helpless individuals in the halls made Beth pause, maybe she shouldn't hold her breath.
Beth busied herself with getting Clara into an over sized t-shirt and taking care of Chris, who had blissfully remained asleep since leaving the hospital. While, Susan started securing every point of entry, looking for any weak spots that those monsters could get through.
The older woman came back into the living room, with a huge bundle of pillows and blankets under her arms. Instead of tossing them all on the floor to make a make shift bed, she threw one pillow and blanket next to Beth and Clara before starting to hang the rest of the blankets on the walls and stuffing pillows by the windows.
Beth felt her eyebrows dip in confusion.
"It's to keep sound from escaping. You saw the way they really started moving when they heard it. This is so Chris's cries won't attract them."
Beth was about to open her mouth to respond, when a loud boom cracked across the sky, sounding like it came from deeper in the city. Susan quickly pulled back the coverings on the window and stood dumb founded—Beth put the baby down and extracted herself from Clara's desperate hold. Giving the child a reassuring kiss to the forehead before practically sprinting across the room, to stand beside Susan.
The blood drained from her face as she watched helicopters and other planes fly over Atlanta dropping bombs into the streets—everything exploding into huge billowing flames.
"Napalm. They're dropping napalm in the streets," Susan said. Her voice sounded completely emotionless, but looking into her eyes, Beth saw the same sadness and worry she felt reflected back to her.
Beth had officially seen hell and it was on fire.
...
Mandatory disclaimer: Everything in the Walking Dead Universe—and its characters belongs to AMC and its creators. Similarities to the original characters or themes from the show and/or comics are used on here for entertainment purposes only. No profit is being made. No infringement intended.
A/N: The idea wouldn't leave my head. A slow-burn Bethyl. Rated M for adult themes. Thank you for reading and please review!