13. The Thing That Wouldn't Die

George carried Cindy in his arms until she felt strong enough to walk on here own. Her knees felt wobbly at first, but soon she was walking beside him down the dark sewers. George was glad to see her well again, but remained silent. He glanced over at her, the fear he once felt inside him absent. He never felt that way about Collette.

"Do you think the others are okay?" Cindy said.

"I don't know," George said. "But that's kind of you to think of them at a time like this."

"If it weren't for them," she said. "We might not be alive. I really do hope they're still alive."

"Yeah," George said. The truth is she was right, and he was thankful to them, but they had more important things to think about right now. Cindy was so unselfish, but he feared that would be the end of her. Even back during her days training to become a nurse, he…

No, he thought to himself. Musn't think of those times. Even though he enjoyed remembering the days he first met Cindy in the hospital, it all went back to that single moment that has eaten him from the inside for so long, the guilty burning through his stomach like acid.

And so George said nothing, until they reached a ladder that lead up to a manhole. George climbed it and lifted the lid, then looked around. Various zombies stood far from them, and he realized that they were only a few yards from the hospital. It was certainly better than roaming the sewers, he thought. Who knows what we'd find in there.

George helped Cindy climb out of the stinking sewer when the zombies suddenly realized their presence. Quickly they ran to the hospital doors but found them locked. George began to panic, and began banging on the door and shoulder tackling them, only to find his efforts futile, until a man dressed in a white lab coat appeared behind the doors.

"Please!" George pleaded. "You must open the doors. They're almost here!"

The man stood there shaking in fright. He stepped away from the doors, not wishing to risk the possibility of letting anymore zombies in. George punched the door and screamed as Cindy grew more and more panicked, the mob of zombies getting closer.

George was beginning to reach for his revolver when suddenly another doctor in a lab coat approached, and he held in his hand a key, which he used to unlock the doors. He quickly let them in and struggled to refasten the lock before the zombies could get in.

"Thank you so much," George said.

"Thank you!" Cindy said appreciatively.

The second doctor turned towards the first doctor, an angry expression on his face.

"What in God's name is wrong with you, Hursh?" he said.

"I, I didn't want to risk," Hursh said, shaking. "Isaac please, those things were coming, I couldn't risk them getting in here!"

"You're a doctor for God sakes," he said. "You're supposed to HELP people not leave them to die!"

"There's nothing in the Hippocratic Oath that says I have to let people into our own shelter from those, those things! I'm not going to die!"

Isaac sighed and turned towards George and Cindy.

"My name is Isaac, and this Hursh," he said, motioning towards the frightened doctor. "I'm so sorry about my friend, you have to understand these are VERY stressful times."

"Why haven't I seen you here?" George asked, curiously.

"We're new here," Isaac said. "Are you George Hamilton?"

"Yes," George said.

"I've heard of your reputation. Almost flawless with a scalpel, saved lots of people. You're an example to us all."

"I," George said. "I haven't saved, all of them." He thought about his last patient, who died on his bed.

"We aren't God," Isaac said. "We can only do so much. You should have some pride in the lives you HAVE saved, I'm sure the people you helped appreciate it immensely."

Isaac paced around a bit. The room was a waiting area of sorts.

"We have a dilemma," he said. "There's no power in the building, somebody must have shut it off, so we're stuck here in this room. And those things will eventually break into here. Dr. Hamilton, you know this place well. Do you know how we can get to the auxiliary power room?"

"Yes," he said. "The stairs, we climb then until the third floor."

"Good," he said. "Let's go. If we can get the secondary power on, maybe we can use a phone, or find some way to send a distress beacon of some sort to let somebody know we're alive. Or maybe we can even get to the parking garage, get an ambulance and have some transportation out of here."

"I think that could work," George said.

"Are there any other people in the building?" Cindy asked.

"I haven't seen any other than those things," he said. "But there's a chance we might have missed some patients. Although if we did, I fear the worst for them already."

"Still we must look," George said. "It's our duty not as doctors, but human beings."

"You're right," Isaac said.

"I have a firearm," George said, reaching into his coat pocket.

"Excellent," Isaac said. "I'm going to trust you with that."

Isaac turned to Hursh.

"Come one," he said almost reluctantly. "Don't stay behind, or we will leave you."

Hursh got to his feet when Cindy noticed his hand.

"You're bleeding," she said in a concerned, motherly tone.

"Oh," Hursh said, looking at his poorly wrapped hand. "One of them bit me."

"Here," Cindy said, pulling out medical tape and fixing his bindings. "That's better."

"Th-thank you," Hursh said.

The group climbed the stairs, with George leading the way, until they reached the third floor. They walked along the long, dark hallways, their footsteps bouncing about everywhere in echoes.

"Is it near?" Hursh asked.

"We're almost there," George said.

But before he could reassure himself, the doors along the hallway began to burst open, and from each one emerged one of the undead creatures, dressed either in patient clothing, half naked, or in lab coats and nursing uniforms. Their moans chilled the group to the bone and their moans and groans cluttered the hallway creating a dissonant and altogether terrible sound.

"We have to go!" George said, running down the hallway, followed by the group. They turned a corner when Cindy tripped, a zombie emerging from a double door beside her. Isaac scampered back and helped Cindy to her feet as George fired the gun into the zombie's head, Hursh speeding ahead of the group. They gathered themselves when suddenly a pair of hands broke through a nearby window and grabbed Isaac, pulling him towards the window.

Hursh reached the end of the hall and pressed a button on the wall, which began to lower an iron gate in front of him. George and Cindy, not knowing about Isaac's plight, quickly ducked under it. They looked back to see him free himself of the creature's grasp and run towards them. George tried to grab the gate in order to stop its descent, but found its weight and mechanical pull too much to handle. Isaac looked at the three, his chest heaving in and out.

"No!" Cindy said. "What should we do!"

"Isaac," George said.

"You have to get to that power room," he said. "Please, just get out of here alive!"

"Hursh," George said. "Raise the gate! Hurry!"

"No!" Hursh said, shaking in fright. "Those things will get in!"

"You bastard!" George said, raising his gun to Hursh. "Open it, NOW, or I will fire this!"

"Just forget me!" Isaac said. "Please, just-AAAAAH!"

Several of the zombies were already on him, biting and clawing at his back, neck, and arm. He shoved a few off but found himself overwhelmed, the mob flooding the congested hallway like a flood. Isaac screamed in pain as he was pinned against the wall and blood poured through the metal bars that trapped him.

"Dr. Hamiltion," he said weakly as blood poured from his mouth. "Please, kill me…"

George looked down at the revolver in his hand, sweat pouring profusely from his forehead.

"Please Dr. Hamilton," he begged. "Please."

"No!" Cindy said.

George slowly raised the revolver and aimed it between Isaac's eyes.

"Don't look, Cindy."

Cindy turned away.

"Thank you," Isaac said weakly.

George shut his eyes.

BLAM

George felt the power of the blast stun him and his ears began to ring. He looked at Isaac's now unmoving body as the zombies consumed his flesh, dragging him back onto the floor and hiding his body from sight. Cindy fell to her knees and wept as George wiped the blood from his face. He looked at the blood on his hands, and felt the guilt return. I did what I had to, he told himself. There just, wasn't enough time. But I'm supposed to save people, not destroy them. But…maybe in a way, I did save him.

George looked at Hursh bitterly, who winced nervously. He noticed that his taped hand had come slightly unwrapped during the excitement, and small drops of blood spilled to the floor. George knelt down to comfort Cindy, then helped her get to her feet.

The three then proceeded down the hallway until they reached the power room. They entered and George inspected a large computer with various blinking lights.

"Here," Hursh said. "I know how it works."

He punched a few keys and soon the lights flickered on and off.

"It's working," he said. "The elevator should be functional now."

"We must hurry," George said.

Together he and Cindy made their way towards the door, when suddenly a vent from overhead came crashing down directly in front of Hursh. Within an instant a large creature fell from the ceiling and pounced on Hursh, pinning him to the ground. It had the figure of a man, but its entire body was covered in an organic life form that resembles black leeches. The monster chomped and gnarled on Hursh's hand until it ripped a large chunk of it off his wrist. George fired the remaining rounds in his revolver, only to find his efforts were futile. The leeches protecting the thing, whatever it was, and soon it stood up and began walking towards them, almost like a zombie but with a less functional body that waved to and fro with every step.

"Dear God!" George said. "Run Cindy!"

George tossed the revolver aside and the two of them sped towards the door, when suddenly the monster extended its arm and sent a long volley of leeches towards George, cutting his shoulder.

George shut the door and motioned towards the elevator, which Cindy ran to and opened. The two ducked in as the leech man broke the door down, then sent a leech flying into the elevator with them. George and Cindy stomped on it fiercely as the elevator began to move, until they were sure the thing was dead. Cindy clasped her hands together and began to pray, tears dripping from her tightly shut eyes.

"George," she said between sobs. "Why is this happening to us?"

"I don't know," he responded.

"Is this the end of the world?" she said. "Is this the day or reckoning? God is angry, he has sent hell to Earth to punish us for our sins. What else could explain this! It's over, it's all over!"

"No Cindy, that's not important right now," George said, putting his hands on her shoulders. "We don't know what has caused this, it could be a widely spread disease, a plague. It could be God. The whole thing could be some sort of twisted nightmare. But you have to remember, NEVER to give up, Cindy. NEVER. I won't let you. We can survive this, on our own if we must. But never give up hope, Cindy. As human beings, we are left only with our wits, and our faith that we will survive."

"How can you say that?" she said, crying. "What hope is there for us? We're alone with that thing. You saw! You shot it, it didn't die!"

"Cindy, we are like rats in a maze," George said. "Our destination that succulent hunk of cheese we know as freedom, only we cannot see it directly in sight. An immense feline pursues us, but we must be persistent, because the faith that the cheese is still there is our only drive, our only reason for staying alive. And I promise you Cindy, your faith is not blind. We may trek through darkness now, not knowing which way to go, but there is a light at the end of this path, and we will find it."

George held Cindy tightly. He couldn't believe the words that had passed between his lips. He didn't believe in God or faith, it was too illogical and foolish for a man such as him. He convinced himself he said it only for Cindy's sake, and for a short time he was content with that. But soon he began to doubt himself, and began to feel he hadn't said it only for Cindy.

The elevator stopped with a "ding" and slowly opened. George and Cindy stepped out, and George recognized the hallway.

"This leads to my office," he said. "I have a phone in there, perhaps that will be of help."

The two cautiously trekked the hallways until they saw a body lying against the wall, the corpse of a security guard. George inspected his body carefully, then took the gun that lay in his hand. The man had shot himself, a bullet hole emblazoned in his temple. Cindy tried not to look as George inspected his body and found a set of keys in one of his pockets. He pocketed them, then stepped away from the body. He should be used to dealing with bodies by now, he'd been to enough autopsies and visits to the morgue to warrant him some experience. But this entire experienced seemed to mock the concept of death itself. All at once George began to imagine the corpses of the patients who died on his operating table, rising from their coffins with hands outstretched and voices moaning in eternal agony. Death would give him no rest any longer; time was now a vague concept that one had some shred of importance. He felt so powerless.

Cindy awoke him from his dreamy state with a touch from her soft, thin hand. He grabbed it with his and led her down the hallway.

He passed through the door that led to his secretary's desk (he wondered for a moment if she was still alive) then stepped into his office. He placed his firearm on the desk and reached for the phone only to find, to his horror, no dial tone pulsing on the other end.

"Dammit," he said, slamming the phone back into its position.

"What do we do now?" Cindy asked.

"What about these keys?" he said, pulling out the ring of keys from this pocket. "They must be of some use. Isaac mentioned something about the parking garage that holds the ambulances."

George then glanced over his messy desk, noticing a paper sitting on his "In" box that wasn't there when he left earlier that day. He grabbed it and began to skim over it.

"Peter Jenkins?" he said to himself. "What on Earth is this? T-Virus…when did I receive this? Peter Jenkins, the name sounds so familiar…"

Before George could finish reading, a sound from behind him startled him. He slowly turned around to see a zombie slowly step into the room, its face covered in shadows. George was about to reach for his gun when he saw what the creature held in its right hand, very tightly as if in a death grip.

It was the divorce papers he had received a few days ago. The ones he didn't have the courage to finish filling out. He then began to recognize the zombie's body, and his entire body froze in fear. As the zombie showed itself in the light, he recognized the face of his wife Collete, her cold, judging stare paralyzing every inch of his body. He began to realize what had happened.

"Oh no, no Collete, no," he said. "I'm so sorry, I'm so very, very sorry."

George dropped to his knees as if begging forgiveness. The thing that once used to be his wife looked down at him, its scratched and torn face looking like a vengeful demon, its hand still clinging tightly to the papers.

"It's all my fault," he said, tears beginning to well up inside his squinting eyes. "All my fault."

The creature let out a low hiss, then opened its mouth and grabbed George from his hair, leaning over to dig into his neck.

BLAM

George opened his eyes, and saw the body of what used to be his wife collapse backward, still clutching those damned papers. George looked behind him, across the desk, and saw Cindy holding the gun in her hand, her chest heaving violently and her face in a state of shock, smoke fuming from the gun's barrel. She then dropped the gun and shook viciously, then moved her way over to George. George looked over at Collette's body and felt the guilt that dwelt inside him surge itself into an almost explosive state. His mind seemed to drift away from his grasp, and as if in sickness it began to purge memories from a time long past. Cindy held George in her arms as he passed out, submitting to the darkness.

All his life George was alone. He hid behind books, indulging himself with knowledge, facts, philosophy, science, astronomy, anything and everything he could come across. He was well respected for his educational endeavors and found acclaim in the field of medicine, all by his own resources and strength of character. But none of this seemed to matter; it was a farce, a curtain that hid the wizard behind the illusion. George was alone all his life, and no level of respect, admiration, or knowledge could ever feel the gaping hole in his heart.

He had convinced himself that love itself was a farce, a pathetic excuse for humanity to create yet another illusion that its existence meant something to somebody. The truth was, George believed, it was more sexual than it was a cosmic or even destiny inspired concept. Shakespeare was wrong, love wasn't about destiny or fate, love was a lie, and one that was not worth the effort.

He met Collette soon after becoming an established surgeon, and at first he thought he enjoyed her company. But he married her more out of necessity rather than love. It seemed everywhere he looked, everybody he knew had found someone to join them in the perilous journey that is life. Nobody was alone, except for the aging George Hamilton. George was already into his thirties, and everybody he knew personally had found someone to share their lives with. George feared, more than anything, that he would wither into the abyss of the afterlife without having been significant to any other person, ever. Both his parents were dead, and he had no family nearby. He just focused on his work in an attempt to keep from seeing his true aloneness. At one point, he may even have loved Collette, but the demands of being a top physician kept him at his desk, day and night, blind to the disintegration of his own marriage right under his nose. The clocks that covered the walls of his office were a reminder that he was short on time, and he strove to try and fix his own life, but George never was great with focusing on one problem at a time. He failed many times to meet with Collette for marriage counseling, and gradually he simply assumed the problem would go away.

During his many long drawn shifts at the hospital, George was asked to escort some young, prospective nurses and doctors throughout the hospital, showing them its facilities, equipment, and operating rooms. George felt it was a vital part of the profession, and willingly met the group of young upstarts. They were all young and appeared more or less bored with the entire experience, none looking particularly as prospective as he had been told, except for one individual that immediately caught George's eye at the very sight of her. Her name was Cindy Lennox.

In the same way that Plato must have admired the brilliant (at his time) Socrates, Cindy hung on every word, her precious eyes wide open and attentive, asking questions and following with great enthusiasm. George had no doubt that she had spirit, and he could tell that the idea of helping people was much more than an "idea" for her, it was to be a way of life. Throughout the tour he stayed close to her, and until its end she never strayed but a few feet from him. George asked her to sit with him for a cup of coffee once the tour ended, and found himself wildly fascinated by her light, her spirit, her innocence at the entire prospect of becoming a nurse. And she was fascinated by the vast knowledge that George expelled at every moment. George wasn't used to having somebody to listen to his ramblings on the philosophy of life and death, even if Cindy didn't always understand what he was saying. Collette certainly never appreciated this aspect of his personality. She simply asked him to remain quiet, or took control of the conversation as George simply sat silently and tried to absorb her words. He felt an exhilarating sense of pride just talking to Cindy, and her polite manner made him enjoy her company more. He felt saddened upon hearing it was time for her to leave, but arranged several more lunches with her.

Cindy became an apprentice of sorts to George, who often went out of his way to show her the proper methods to bind a patient's wounds. When she had advanced enough into her education he began considering making her a permanent member of his operating staff, and continued to train her as best he could.

One day he spoke with her in the equipment room, telling her a joke he recalled from college. She laughed and smiled, and George became excited. He had never felt so happy in his life. But he didn't expect Cindy to do what she did. She kissed his lips tenderly, wrapping her arms around his neck, her soft, thin hand against his cheek, her warm body pressed against his chest. Although surprised, George reveled in the moment for what felt like hours, and accepted openly accepted her, wrapping both arms around her waist and closing his tired eyes. George had always believed the philosophy presented in Dante's Inferno, that both heaven, and hell, were not a place, but other people. George had finally found heaven.

But George wasn't used to giving into his passions. He was a logical man, after all, and he was very soon awakened to what was happening. He was a married man. He pushed himself away from Cindy and looked at his hand. His ring was gone, but the impression it left was emblazoned around his finger like a scarlet letter, a reminder of his immoral sin. Guilt welled up in George's stomach as he felt the sting of betrayal. Cindy took a few steps back, realizing what they had done.

"I'm so sorry, George," she said. "Oh my God, I'm sorry."

Cindy knew that he was married, but for that single instance that knowledge had faded away, for both of them. The truth came spiraling back, George's breaking of their embrace awakening them both to their wrongful deed. George may not have felt as morose and depressed if the situation had arose out of mere lust, because he felt even that would be justifiable to a degree. We are only human, and our instinctive desires are so strong they often outweigh our logic. But he didn't feel lust for Cindy. He felt something more than that, and he hated himself for doing so.

"I can't see you anymore, Cindy," George said, trying to avoid looking at her.

"But, George, I'm sorry," she apologized. "I wasn't thinking. I swear it won't happen again."

"No Cindy," George said sadly, leaning over a small table. "We have to stop this before it goes any further, and the only way to do that, is for us to never see each other again."

Tears welled up in Cindy's eyes. George may as well have condemned her to death.

"I'm going to have you moved to another ward, to assist another doctor," George said. "I can't see you anymore. I'm sorry."

"George, please," Cindy said weakly between sobs. "Please don't throw me away like this!"

"If you don't leave now Cindy," George said angrily, in an attempt to frighten her. "I'm going to suggest your termination from this hospital. Leave."

Cindy wept openly and burst from the room. George felt angry, at Cindy, for giving in to her desire, for meeting him in the first place, and at himself, for accepting the tour duty, and for enjoying Cindy's company. Not once did he feel anger for Collette. It was unfair to her, he thought. I have betrayed her trust. I have a duty, a responsibility to her. He knew that logically and ethically he had made the right choice, but it didn't make him feel better.

Throughout the next week, he spotted Cindy walking the halls, and avoided eye contact with her. If he saw her approaching, he would duck into another room or turn away. Each time he did so it was like needles being thrust into her heart. She began to think he hated her, and within a few days he didn't see her anymore. He asked others about her, and one nurse informed him that she officially resigned from the hospital a few days earlier. She couldn't handle the pain she felt every time he avoided her, and the fact they had shared a mortal sin created a dark pit of guilt in her heart, and so she relieved George of his pain by leaving her dreams to become a nurse. From then on she stayed with her secondary job at J's bar. She generally worked during the evenings, at which time George made it a point to stay away from the bar, out of both courtesy to her and out of his own decision to try and keep his promise to Collette. But when he did go, making sure she was not there, he drank heavily in silence, the demons in his mind whispering reminders of his evil deed. But more than anything, he desperately wanted to see Cindy again, if even for a second. His entering the bar when he knew she wasn't there was a form of self punishment that he executed like a tradition or a ritual every night for a month.

When he received the divorce papers, the truth awakened in him a sorrow he had never felt. He had failed Collette, he had not kept his promise, and he had lost Cindy. He realized that he was, once again, entirely alone, and the darkness of loneliness overtook him. But he refused to sign the papers. He had no choice but to try and make it work, and so he held out on finishing the form until he could have a chance to talk with Collette again, who had recently separated from him and moved in with her mother. When George saw the form in her dead hands, he understood what had happened. She had come by to find him, to pick up the papers, and one of those things killed her. Why she still clung to the papers so tightly, even after her spirit had long ago left the cell of her body, frightened George more than any creature he had confronted this night. Not even in death was Collette freed from him. And he began to feel the swelling of self loathing, of guilt again, when he rationalized that if he had signed those papers and sent them off, if he had been a real man and had the courage and guts to accept that he was a failure, she would not have come to get them, and maybe, she might still be alive. More than ever before, George hated himself.

George awoke, his head lying in Cindy's arms as she caressed his hair and forehead, in the same manner he had done for her.

"You're awake now," she said. "You fainted."

George looked around the room, his vision blurry.

"Cindy," he said. "I-I'm sorry."

"Just rest a little longer," she said as tears began to seep from her eyes.

"What's wrong?" he said.

"Nothing." She said. "I'm just, happy you're awake. I didn't know if you were going to wake up."

George rested his eyes a bit and let himself give in to Cindy's soothing caresses. He no longer thought of Collette, whose body was only a few feet away. He began to think of Cindy.