Reign of the Dead

As the chaos ensues, a man reflects upon his life before the end. Will he get a second chance?

JANITOR

"Well, it looks like I just dodged a bullet."

Martin Stackhouse, a 34 year old janitor for the Westmont Memorial Hospital, had just received news that he was ok. Last week, he had accidentally stuck himself with a needle that had been protruding from a trash bag. He immediately had himself checked out for any kind of infection. And now this morning, he had just gotten news from his superior that his tests results were clean. Last week, another janitor had gotten results back from a similar accident; however, he was diagnosed with hepatitis.

"You got lucky. Bill wasn't as fortunate." Greg replied.

Greg was Martin's supervisor. Martin looked at his left forearm where he had gotten stuck. "I guess you could say that. So I'm cleared for work then?"

"Yep, Taylor is in ICU cleaning out the bathrooms. Why don't you go join him, he could use some help. They're having more than enough patients today." Greg pulled an ID card from his desk and handed it to Martin. "New ID cards for the employee elevators."

Martin took it and stood up from his chair opposite Greg's desk. "Thanks Greg." Greg smiled and went back to his computer. Martin left his office and headed for the employee elevators.

The elevator doors opened to the third floor. Nurses and doctors roamed about busily. Greg had been right. It looked like it was going to be a busy day. As Martin walked down the busy hall he heard a scream coming from one of the rooms up ahead. Two nurses and an aid ran into the room. As he passed he could see someone on a bed kicking his feet and thrashing around.

"I can't feel my arm!" He heard the patient yell.

"You're hyperventilating Mr. Bushnell, you need to calm down." One of the nurses said calmly.

Martin could not make out anymore as he passed the room and headed for the bathrooms. When he arrived, he saw what Taylor needed so much help for. Taylor was dressed in protective clothing and was cleaning a pool of blood that was all over the bathroom floor. "Jesus Christ!" Martin gasped.

"Tell me about it." Taylor turned to him. "You better not come in any farther." He wore protective glasses and a mouth cover on his face as well as a hair cap on his head. "Grab yourself some of these clothes and help with the other bathrooms."

"Others?" Martin glanced over to the women's bathroom, but didn't see anything immediately wrong. "There's more?"

Taylor almost slipped as he drained the mop in his bucket. "Almost every one; two more on the south side and a third down the hall, plus a couple of the rooms. Johns and Vic are handling those at the moment."

Martin walked over to a cart that had protective clothing and started putting it on. "What the hell is going on here?"

"I don't know. Looks like an epidemic." Taylor began mopping the floor again. "Ah god…" Taylor saw a piece of something near the toilet. Martin looked over as Taylor scooped it up. "Looks like someone barfed up part of his stomach."

Martin looked away and tried to focus on not throwing up himself. He looked down at his watch. It was 7:24am. He heard a nurse ask to watch out has she brought another patient through on a bed from the ER. As they passed him, he could see that patient had a bandage over his neck and arm and was really pale. He sighed as they disappeared into a room down the hall. It was going to be a long day.

Martin began work on the bathroom down the hall. It took nearly three hours to soak up the thick blood and pieces of flesh on the floor. What the hell could've caused this? Martin thought to himself. Around noon, Martin had cleaned out one bathroom and had begun on another. In the five or so hours of working, Martin saw at least four body bags go by him. Corpses it would seem. Martin began feeling nervous. If it was an outbreak of some disease, he wondered if the protective clothing he wore would be enough. So far, none of the nurses, doctors, or aids seemed to be dropping dead so maybe he was alright. Around 1pm, Taylor came over to him with Johns who had finished cleaning up one of the rooms and asked if he wanted to go to lunch. Martin agreed and they left to get cleaned up. Johns took over and started working on the bathroom.

Martin and Taylor ate lunch in the cafeteria. The dining area was large and almost full of people. Martin looked at the food selection and felt disgusted. After cleaning up human blood and feces for almost six hours, he did not feel hungry at all. Taylor hadn't lost his appetite and grabbed two slices of pizza, a couple fried mozzarella sticks, a piece of chicken, and an apple. Taylor was a skinny 29 year old man. Martin often wondered how someone who ate the way Taylor did stayed thin. Martin wasn't exactly fat himself, but he had a grown a little bit around the waist more than he would of liked. Martin paid for a soda and they both went to find a seat in the cafeteria. As Taylor stuffed his face, Martin glanced over to a TV that was on the wall. The local news was telling a story of riots that were happening downtown. The National Guard had been called in to assist police in containing the situation. It was hard to make out what the anchorwoman was saying because the TV volume was low and talking in the cafeteria was loud. But he made out a few key words that were alarming: "epidemic" and "outbreak".

"Oh my god." Martin said upon hearing this.

Taylor looked up. "What is it?"

"I think the news is saying that a disease has spread through the city." Martin stared at the screen straining to hear what the news was saying.

Taylor looked up at the TV. Images of people running through the streets and attacking others were flashing on the screen. He went back to his eating. "They're probably just pissed because they just passed that expensive highway toll act yesterday." As he began finishing off his mozzarella sticks he heard a woman's loud gasp and a cup shatter on the ground.

"What the hell?" Martin said.

Taylor looked up and saw that other people were looking at all the TV screens. He joined their gaze and saw the unbelievable. The TV screen showed what look liked a person stuffing food in his face. But it wasn't barbecue chicken. The camera panned down as to reveal what the person's meal was. A dead human! "What the hell?" Taylor said. The camera spun around as a group of people ran straight into it knocking it over on it's side.

"Turn it up!" Someone yelled.

Someone turned up the TV. The anchorwoman was talking over the image. "We… we seem to have lost contact with Aaron." All you could see was feet clustered around the camera which was on it's side on the ground. The image went back to the anchorwoman in the studio. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat.
"Um, we're just getting word now that… that some National Guard roadblocks have been overrun..."

A scream came from the other end of the cafeteria near one of the main halls. Everyone turned and saw a woman run into the cafeteria. Some more screams came from the hall and Martin could see people running. People in the cafeteria started becoming restless. Just then a man ran in screaming from the hall and tackled the nearest person in the cafeteria. Some women started screaming and ran out. Martin got up and ran over towards the two wrestling on the ground. Taylor joined him as they pulled the attacker away. Martin helped the man who had been attacked, while Taylor and another man held the attacker down. Blood poured from the man's throat as Martin put some paper towels over it. "Someone call a doctor!" Martin screamed. But most of the other patrons were scrambling out of the cafeteria.

A man screamed and Martin looked to see what happened. It was biting other man's arm. Taylor punched the man that was biting, but it wasn't doing anything. The man tore off flesh from the man's arm and started chewing it. The man let go which caused the cannibal to get loose from Taylor. It ran off chasing after a crowd of people that were escaping through the cafeteria. Martin looked down at the man who had been bit in the neck and saw him just stare up in a blank state. He checked his pulse, but felt nothing. "This one's gone."

Martin turned his attention to the other man who got bit on the arm. Taylor used a piece of cloth to tie a tight tourniquet above the bite wound. Then placed another piece of cloth over the wound. The man winced as he did. "You'll live." Taylor said as they stood up. When they did, Taylor looked behind Martin and saw that the man that was attacked was standing with them, but facing the other way. "I thought you said he was dead." Taylor said motioning towards the other man.

Martin turned and saw that he was standing and placed a hand on his shoulder. "Hey, bud, you all right?" The man spun around and Martin stepped back realizing how right he had been. The man pounced on Martin and both fell to the ground. Martin held his shoulders back as the man started biting the air trying to get to him. His neck wound was still bleeding and now was drenching Martin's shirt in blood. "Christ, get him off me!"

The other two tore the man off of Martin, but then it spun around and sunk it's teeth into Taylor's left shoulder. He screamed out in pain as it started gnawing on his shoulder. Martin tried pulling it off of him, but it wouldn't budge. He frantically looked around for something. He saw a knife on a nearby table. He picked it up and shoved it through the back of the attacker's head. It dropped instantly to the floor releasing Taylor. Taylor stood there clutching his bleeding shoulder staring down in disbelief. "You… you killed him…"

"He was dead." Martin said.

"Well he is now." Taylor argued.

"No, he was." Martin thought for a second, and then tried to correct himself. "Or is..." He hesitated again. He was dead that was sure. Martin wasn't a doctor or nurse, but he knew how to check for a pulse and that man had none. "I mean was the whole time." He looked at Taylor's wound. "How bad is it?"

Taylor tore another part of his shirt and covered it over the wound. "As bad as it looked, it's not too deep."

They looked around realizing that the whole cafeteria was empty except the three of them. Martin looked to the TV, but saw an empty anchor desk where the anchorwoman was sitting. The words "LIVE" appeared on the upper right of the screen. "I think it's time to leave." Martin said. They heard growling from the west entrance and looked to see five or so of those "cannibals" looking over. "It's time to leave now." As the three of them ran out, Martin could see that the five were now joined by a whole bunch more. How could so many be turned so quickly? But it didn't matter, they were out of the cafeteria and running down the hall to the east wing parking garage.

"We're never going to make it." Taylor said 30 minutes later.

The three of them were speeding down Third Avenue trying to avoid the groups of undead that now roamed everywhere. Martin's 1996 Jeep Cherokee slammed into another walking corpse and ran it over. Mike exhaled. "I don't feel so hot."

"Just hang on," Martin said. "…we'll get out. The radio said that the highway was still clear of infestation."

Taylor looked back at Mike, the other man who had been bit on the arm. "How's your arm?" Taylor asked.

Mike showed him it removing the cloth that was covering it. It was swollen, pale, and looked infected. "It hurts like hell. I can't feel my whole arm."

"How you doing Taylor?" Martin asked while turning right on 134 Street. He was heading for the highway and hopefully it would be clear. From there they could make it out of the metropolitan area.

Taylor shifted in his seat. "I feel weak. But other than that I'm fine. It's weird…"

"What is?"

"I don't really feel the wound."

Martin frowned as he sped passed an overturned bus. Then he saw it, the highway. It was straight ahead. He could see cars and trucks moving quickly on it. They were almost there. "Look! See, I told you." Martin said pointing. Taylor followed his gaze. "Home free."

"Watch out!" Mike screamed, but it was too late. One of the creatures had run out into the street in front of the Cherokee. The body flew onto the hood smashing the windshield. Martin was blinded as his line of sight was now obstructed by splintered glass. He heard a loud pop and felt the Cherokee jerk left. One of the tires must've blown out. Out of all the damn times… He thought, before the Jeep lost control and rolled end over end for what seemed like an eternity.

Martin's life flashed before him. He remembered living with his mother in their small apartment when he was 10, the time he graduated from high school and how his mother was so proud of him, meeting Carrie in college and falling in love, graduating with a degree in computer science, getting his first job with a computer company and promising a good life for Carrie. Then he saw his decline. The things he regretted and which he would now never have a chance to redeem; working late hours and ignoring Carrie, losing his job to a corporate buyout, not being able to find another job for five years, arguing with Carrie over money problems and hitting her once, losing their house, Carrie leaving him, his mother dying of cancer, and his problems with alcohol. And now, as he felt himself ejected from the car, another chapter was finally coming to an end in the sad tale of his life. The final chapter.

Martin flew through some bushes along the side of the road and hit the ground hard, rolling down into a gutter by the entrance ramp to the highway. He heard a snap as he did and felt sharp pain coming from his ankle. He tried to scream out, but the air was knocked out of his body by the impact. He heard loud crashing as he could see the Cherokee roll over next to him 15 feet away and rest upside down against a steel road guard. Martin tried to move, but had no strength. He lied there for a while before attempting to move again. This time he was able to. He scanned the area around him and saw no immediate threats; but that didn't mean that no one or nothing saw them. He got to his feet and limped painfully over to the Jeep. He looked underneath and saw Taylor twisted upside down.

"Taylor?" He said softly. "Taylor can you hear me?"

Taylor awoke slowly and tried to move. When he did he cried out in pain and clutched his legs. "My legs… I think they're broken." Martin looked in the back and saw Mike upside down, his head was twisted and was almost facing the opposite direction. He was dead. "How's Mike?" Taylor asked.

"Dead."

"Oh shit." Taylor said struggling to remove his seatbelt.

"I don't think he's going to turn. He would have already if he was going to." Martin limped to the passenger side door and pried it open. He pulled Taylor out and dragged him down the small embankment along the highway entrance ramp. The cars on the bridge above them raced by as if nothing was wrong. They came to a stop about 50 feet away from the overturned Cherokee. Martin sat down to rest. His ankle hurt real badly and he was out of strength. He saw as three of the creatures ran to the Cherokee and started grabbing and crawling around inside, no doubt they were feasting on Mike. Another looked over at him and Taylor. Even at this distance, Martin could easily see that half of it's left cheek was missing. His heart skipped a beat as he thought it would rush them, but it turned away and joined the others at the wrecked Cherokee.

"…Go…" Taylor said weakly.

"What?"

"I said go." Taylor sat up. He was pale all over with dark spots around his eyes. Martin could easily have mistaken him for one of them if he hadn't known. "I can feel it happening."

"What's happening?" Martin asked.

"I'm turning… into one of them." Taylor looked at his legs. "I can't walk and I'm sure it won't take long for those things to come down here and get us."

"My ankle is shot. I can't just run away." Taylor had been Martin's only friend ever since he got the job at the hospital four months ago. He helped him get back on his feet a few times when he felt depressed. Living alone was so depressing. No friends or family. Everyone he had once cared about had left ever since he became an abusive alcoholic. All he could do was drink when Carrie left, even more than before. He contemplated suicide more than once, even coming close last week after being accidentally stuck with an unknown needle. But Taylor saved him, talked him out of it. And now, Taylor was going to try to save him again, but Martin wouldn't have it. Taylor tried to talk him out of staying. "I said I'm not leaving." Martin replied. But Taylor convinced him otherwise, as he did before.

Martin stood up slowly as Taylor began losing consciousness. "Don't give up man." Taylor smiled then lost consciousness.

Martin took off his coat and laid it down over Taylor's chest. He looked around as he slowly started limping away. He tasted blood mixed with sweat on his lips. He felt his forehead and realized he had been cut just above the hairline. He tore a piece off of his shirt and dabbed the blood that was coming down the right side of his face. He limped for about a 30 yards before being spotted by a couple of the undead. He limped as fast as he could towards the highway. He saw a pickup truck parked along the shoulder and started waving his arms and yelling at them. He could see a couple men in the back talking. They weren't undead either. They didn't hear his voice, because the cars on the highway overpowered Martin's voice at that distance. But he had a chance. He wasn't about to give up. Martin felt a surge of hope and realized that he had been given a second chance. His life was about to change and for the better. No longer would he drink and be depressed. He would start over, be the man he once was, maybe even call Carrie and apologize. Something he's been too afraid to do since she left. He heard the creatures closing in behind him, but they were too far away. He would easily make it to the highway before they got him. He saw one of men in the pickup truck pull out a rifle as they saw him coming. He smiled, he was about to be saved again. This wasn't the final chapter, but the first in a brand new story. The man fired. A sharp pain hit Martin in the stomach and he fell to his knees. He looked down and realized that he had been shot!

"Yeah!" The man yelled. "I got another one!"

Martin looked up in disbelief and tried to yell out. He opened his mouth and screamed, but nothing came out. Blood poured from the bullet hole in his stomach. He knelt there with his mouth open trying to comprehend what had just happened when another shot hit him in the chest and he spun around onto the ground face down.

"The head you idiot!" Martin could hear another man yell. "They only die if you hit them in the head!"

"That one looks dead to me." The man with the gun replied.

Martin heard more gunshots as the man apparently was shooting at the incoming creatures that were now almost on top of him. "Let's get out of here." Another man said. Martin heard doors shut to the pickup truck and drive off. Martin heard the footsteps of the others as they mobbed him. He barely felt the pain as they began biting his arms and legs. He felt teeth clamp onto the back of his neck and tear flesh off of it.

Martin Stackhouse dodged a bullet that day, but only to step into another. That was the last thing he thought of before darkness enveloped him forever.

THE END

For some reason, this story just didn't seem to feel right as some of the other one's did no matter how I changed it. So I left it pretty much intact as I did when I first wrote it. We needed five shorts and this was the last one I wrote. I procrastinated and wrote it the night before I had to turn it in and placed it second in the order. :P Which is why it might seem a little rushed. Please feel free to tell me what you think and thanks for the reviews!