Part 4
After a much needed shower Jim found himself following the familiar path to the sickbay. The doors swished open as he neared, and the first thing he spotted was McCoy. Still wearing the same blood drenched clothes as he was earlier, he was leaning over Williams' body. At least he had washed his hands and face before getting straight to work. There was an expression of pure concentration on his face while he worked, his brow was furrowed and his lips formed a thin line. Jim was surprised that his entrance hadn't distracted him.
As he drew closer, he realised why McCoy was so oblivious to him. Evidently, the skin regenerators didn't work on dead people, and it wasn't like they could sent Williams' body back to his family while he had a gaping wound in the side of his throat. To combat this, McCoy had painstakingly hand stitched the entire wound back together. It wasn't pretty, the black thread stood out horribly against the pale skin, and there were places where the stitches were not completely even. Jim chalked that up to the fact that it was very rare that stitches were needed anymore, and the practise was virtually non-existent now. Doctors weren't trained to do it in med school today, and the only reason McCoy knew vaguely what to do was because he had researched it beforehand.
McCoy placed the small metal scissors and curved needle back onto the sterilised tray at his side. It wasn't as though he had to worry about infections at the moment, but he still made sure that everything was perfectly clean, it was just a matter of habit. He glanced up, noticing Jim's presence for the first time.
"It could be neater, but I think it's still pretty good for a first try."
He stood back and admired his work with his hands on his hips. Jim just nodded his head in agreement, not once taking his eyes off the body. McCoy followed his gaze and a frown pulled at the edge of his mouth.
"I'm going to need help moving him to the morgue."
Jim's head slowly drifted up to meet McCoy's eyes, a thoroughly disgruntled look on his face. It was normal to not like a morgue. You'd have to be psychologically impaired to enjoy being in a room full of dead bodies, but Jim really hated the morgue. It had always unsettled him that people had had the forethought to build a room to house the mistakes that he would undoubtedly make as a Captain.
Shaking his head to rid himself of his thoughts, Jim stepped closer to the bed. McCoy had wheeled a stretcher over to them, passing Chapel on the way. She made a move to help, but McCoy smiled saying 'It was okay, they had it.' Rigor mortis had already begun to set in and lifting the body slightly and moving it to the side was relatively easy. After that, Jim helped McCoy push the dead weight towards the room at the very back of the sickbay.
McCoy needed Jim's assistance again, when he had to pull Williams' body onto the slab that would roll into the cubicle. It creaked as it moved and the door hissed when McCoy pushed it shut. When he turned back to Jim, he was staring at a space on the wall just over McCoy's shoulder. McCoy purposely brought himself into Jim's eye line, standing as close as he could while still pertaining to the friend boundaries.
"It wasn't your fault, Jim." His eyes focused on McCoy instead of the wall. "It wasn't my fault either. Sometimes these things just happen. We can't change that."
"I know that. It's just…it never gets any easier."
McCoy's jaw tightened when he saw Jim glance at the cubicle Williams was now lying in. He grabbed Jim's chin, forcing him back to their conversation, while also crossing a line in the process.
"Well, think of that as a good thing. You're not one of those emotionless Captains who couldn't give a damn about his crew. You care. You care so much that every little thing that affects them also affects you. It makes you a good Captain, an exceptional Captain." McCoy allowed himself to smirk, hoping the compliment would assure Jim. "You just need to learn that even the best Captain can't beat death."
They stared at each other for a moment, letting McCoy's words sink in. The spell was broken when McCoy dropped his hand back to his side and stepped back, only just then realising how close he had been standing.
Jim grinned, completely forgetting about his insecurities. McCoy scowled at his sudden change in persona, so Jim toned his grin into an endearing smile instead.
"You're a good doctor, Bones. Even if you can't sew worth a damn."
Chapel looked on with a quizzical expression when Jim and McCoy came out of the morgue smiling and laughing. McCoy noticed and shrugged in answer. She then watched as he patted Jim on the back, saying something as he leaned in. Jim grinned and nodded, following McCoy into his office. Chapel hadn't been able to hear what McCoy had said, and a part of her didn't want to know. The less she knew about what went on his office the better, she thought. Especially, if it was anything like the rumours that were making their rounds across the Enterprise.
Contrary to popular belief, when McCoy and Jim shut themselves in the CMO's office it was usually just to have a drink in private. Jim made himself comfy in the chair facing McCoy's desk, putting his legs up and slinking down until his chin hit his chest. McCoy busied himself by fetching glasses and a bottle of brandy before making himself just as comfy in a chair opposite Jim's. He poured them both a healthy amount, slid one over to the other side of the desk and relaxed back.
"Here's to Williams. Maybe now he can finally get around to learning the piano like he wanted."
McCoy had already brought the glass to his lips, but pulled it back to raise it in the air. He then swigged it back with a practised ease. Jim follow suit, swallowing as best be could with his head and body at such awkward angles.
Another two glassfuls were poured while Jim tried to sort out the words he was going to say in head.
"Spock caught up with me after we left you in the sickbay earlier. He told me about the readings he had got on the planet. Apparently, with the air being as highly oxygenated as it is, it would be 'highly unwise' to use our phasers. He said it we had, there would have been a certainty that none of us would have returned to the Enterprise." McCoy's eyebrow shot up in surprise. "According to the data, the air is so volatile that even the slightest spark could set off a chain reaction."
"Wow, leave it to him to put 'phasers equal a big fucking no-no' in so many words."
Jim chucked weakly at McCoy's thoughtful tone. He was use to the rivalry between his CMO and SO. It was like a game now, nothing was said with complete honesty and they both knew that. He liked that he was the only one that heard both sides of it. There were times where their creativity was really put to the test.
"I guess I'm just going to have to be as careful as possible when I go back."
"What do you mean 'when you go back?"
Jim let out a half confused, half genuinely amused laugh.
"What else could that possibly mean?"
Setting his empty glass back down, McCoy sat up. His expression had changed from thoughtful to angry in a blink of an eye.
"You're not going back there, Jim. Especially now that you know you can't use weapons."
"I have to. What if there are survivors? We were only down there for a few hours; imagine what it must be like to live there. Constantly being in fear of those…things."
"The planet has been deserted for over a year. If the food shortage hasn't got them then I'm sure those things did."
"We can't know that for sure."
McCoy pushed himself to his feet, tracing a well worn path around his office. His hands kept shifting from his hips to the space surrounding him, while he attempted to form a sentence in reply. Jim watched him as he moved, recognising the telltale signs of worry. McCoy stopped pacing when he was in front of Jim's chair, his hands held firmly on his hips because he had come to a decision.
"If you go then I'm coming with you."
Jim was up on his feet in a second, startling McCoy so that he stumbled back a few steps.
"No. You need to be ready up here for any survivors that we might find. With newer technology not working on the planet, you need to stay in the sickbay."
It didn't take long for McCoy to get over the surprise of Jim invading his personal space. He was mirroring Jim straight away.
"We? I thought we were just talking about you. Who else are you going to drag into this suicide attempt?"
"I haven't asked, but I can guarantee Spock isn't going to let me go down there alone."
"And you're going to let him?! So I was just, what, joking when I said I was going with you?" McCoy's hands were picking up speed as they gestured along with his tirade. "You know what? I take it back. You're not a good Captain, you're a selfish Captain."
Something hit a chord with Jim and McCoy was pretty sure he could pinpoint what part did it. Jim's mouth snapped shut with an audible crack and he stared steely eyed at McCoy. Despite the emotion behind the look, McCoy didn't falter either. The glass in Jim's hand was in danger of shattering with the strength that he was squeezing it. Realising this, he slammed it down on McCoy's desk and sauntered towards the door. He turned back once he reached it, just to seek out McCoy's eyes one last time.
"Good night, Doctor McCoy. Get properly cleaned up and rested. You need to be in better condition for tomorrow." He then left wishing, just this once, that he had a door to slam for dramatic effect.
---
The conversation with Spock went just as Jim had envisioned it. He tried all of the arguments he could think of, but Spock continued to stick by his convictions. Jim was slightly relieved that Spock was just as stubborn as he was, but he also regretted it. McCoy's words replayed over and over in his head, and he couldn't help but see the truth in them.
Jim stood waiting on the transporter pad, with Spock standing next to him. He felt a little off centre with only a communicator strapped to his belt, the other side being left empty of a weapon. When he had asked Spock if he should bother bringing the phaser anyway, maybe it could just be used as a threat, he had said that the temptation to use it would be too great for the Captain so he should leave it behind. Jim should have been offended but he reluctantly agreed. Revenge did funny things to a man.
The words 'energize' were on the tip of Jim's tongue when the door to the transporter room suddenly opened. McCoy paused in the doorway, his eyes locking with Jim's. Without words, Jim knew what McCoy was doing here. He wouldn't say 'be careful' but it was what he really meant. It was as close to an apology as he was going to get as well. His gaze was so intense that Jim's stomach fluttered at the attention.
"You're an idiot. And you're not much better Spock."
Jim didn't smile as he wasn't sure if everything was back to the way it was before. He didn't want to risk Bones thinking he wasn't taking this seriously, because he was. He understood the danger, but he also understood what was at stake. He wouldn't be able to call himself any degree of Captain if he just left people to die.
"Don't worry Bones, we'll be careful. You just be ready for us and anyone we might bring back."
The slight inclination of McCoy's head was all Jim saw as the Enterprise disappeared from his view and was replaced by tall buildings that he had no desire to look at.
McCoy stuck around for a few minutes after they left. Not saying anything, just staring intently at the pads. Scotty fidgeted in his seat, wondering whether he should say something or not. He was glad he didn't when McCoy seemed to snap out of it and turned on his heels, leaving presumably for the sickbay.
---
Once Jim's head had cleared from the transportation, his mind filled with thoughts of the hospital, and not how intently Bones had stared at him. They had beamed down outside it, pretty much exactly where they had been standing the day before. The absence of the body in Spock's arms, this time, was a welcomed change though. If he could have, he would have carried on walking, passing the hospital by without a second glance, but he couldn't. Being unarmed on an unexplored planet warranted supplies.
Reluctantly, Jim started towards the front doors. Spock didn't say a word when he saw the determined look burning holes in the entrance doors. Nor did he say anything when Jim punched it open with more force than was strictly necessary. The words probably would have gotten lost in the noise anyway, as the crash reverberated countless times around the empty hospital.
The plain white walls were vaguely familiar, but the corridors twisted and turned endlessly. It would be ridiculously easy to get lost in here, so Jim made a note to check any passing sign that could be used to orientate his way. He hadn't been planning to return to the ER but his legs obviously had other ideas. He spotted the doors before he reached them but he followed the path regardless.
As he got closer, he noticed the tracks on the floor. Yesterday was a bit of a blur when he thought about it, so he couldn't say for certain whether or not they were new. The tracks were made of streaked blood, and the prints were an indistinguishable mess. They could have been leading either way. Jim guessed they were leading away.
His estimations were proved corrected when he pushed open the doors to the ER. The broom that had been holding the closet shut was broken in two on the floor. The break was rough and splintered like it had been bent with extreme force, that didn't surprise Jim. The pool of Williams' blood had been traipsed through and the tracks originated there. Something had shuffled their feet through it and escaped out of the doors in to the heart of the hospital. Jim and Spock shared a grim expression.
They agreed that they should spend as little time as possible in the hospital. The confusing hallways and unknown territory would do them no favours, especially now that the thing was loose. Jim crossed the room, carefully avoiding the puddle and any of the tracks, to get to the drawers on the other side. He pocketed the bandages he remembered finding yesterday as well as a small first aid kit, making sure to empty it of any of the superfluous items that would only weight him down. He nodded to Spock signalling that they should make a move to leave.
Despite watching for signs that would lead the way, Jim still found himself getting a bit confused by the lefts and rights. He passed a room which he was certain he had passed before, though he couldn't remember if it had been today or yesterday that he had done. He led them past the same bulletin board twice before Spock spoke up claiming that he didn't know why they kept making right turns when the way out was simply left. Jim threw his hands in the air in exasperation, gesturing for Spock to lead the way instead. It took exactly two minutes and thirteen seconds for Spock to locate the exit, compared to Jim's six minutes and forty-seven seconds of getting them irrevocably lost.
Sunlight glared through the doors leading to the outside, it blinded Jim for a moment so he brought his hand up to shield his eyes. He was turning his head away when he noticed the other door just next to the hallway to the outside. The small sign on the surface read 'Stairwell to roof.'
"Wait a minute Spock."
Jim patted Spock's arm then took off towards the stairwell. Spock did wait a few seconds, mostly just to process what Jim had said, before going after him. Jim's footfalls echoed sharply, so Spock figured he was only one or two sets of stairs behind.
The door to the roof had already been thrown open when Spock reached it. He could see Jim standing right at the edge, hands on the rails and his torso leaning dangerously far forward. Being high up and unsheltered meant that the winds had picked up; it bit at his face and ripped at his clothes, and Spock could see it doing the same to Jim. Spock couldn't understand how Jim deemed it safe enough to dangle himself off the edge. He approached cautiously, not wanting to startle Jim, as he had been told to wait. Though, in Spock's defence, the Captain hadn't actually specified where he had to wait.
"Do you think there are more of those things down there?"
It wasn't quite shouting, but it was definitely close. The wind drowned out most of the words but Spock got the gist of it.
"Just because we hadn't seen them doesn't mean they are not there."
"Like the survivors."
The hospital wasn't the tallest building in the area but it was high enough to see the surrounding roads and intersections. From the rooftop, they could see the tops of the trees in the park; where the roads ended at the horizon and what way they should go if they wanted to avoid the countryside areas.
Spock was starting to get uncomfortable with the drop in temperature, so was about to ask Jim if he thought they should move on when Jim suddenly slammed his hand down on the rails. His feet scrambled on to the lowest rungs of the railings and he pulled himself up so that he was leaning so far off the edge that Spock acted on reflexes and fisted his hand into the back of Jim's shirt. Spock tensed his arm, waiting for the Captain's weight to pull him off his balance, but it never happened. Jim wasn't toppling over the edge; he was peering at the street below. Spock still wasn't completely convinced Jim was safe, so he kept his hand where it was, folded tightly at the bottom of the shirt. Jim didn't seem to notice or care because his attention was diverted by something else entirely.
"Do you see that?!"
Still keeping his arm at a distance from himself, Spock carefully poked his head over the rail to see what had captivated Jim. In the middle of the road, just outside the hospital, were two figures. One Spock vividly remembered, while the other was new. Spock was sure that he would never forget the image of the man in the supply closet. The attacker must have lost more of his shirt in his struggle to escape the supply closet because he was now missing a sleeve as well. It was difficult to make out the details from this height, but Spock knew that the bottom of the man's feet would also be stained with blood. The figure standing opposite was new to Spock so he wasn't sure if his observations were right. It was wearing a bright red t-shirt and there appeared to be a large plank of wood in its hand.
"This isn't some sort of mirage, right?"
Spock was tempted to explain that mirages only occurred in instances where the temperatures were much higher. A scenario which Spock's body was now craving as the fingers on the hand not clenched in Jim's shirt were beginning to go numb. He stifled the urge to recite his thoughts and instead shook his head.
Jim tore himself away from the railings, jumping down on the surface of the roof. The sudden difference in height caused Spock's stilled hand to lift Jim's shirt up, revealing the skin on his back. Before Spock could explain he was only trying to help, Jim was gone. Jim had fewer boundaries when it came to physical contact; he probably thought nothing of Spock's hand on him. Spock cleared his throat then ran after him.
While Spock still had three flights of stairs to descend, Jim was already flying out of the doors leading to the outside. The walkway connecting the street and the hospital had never seemed longer to Jim to as pelted across it, eyes firmly fixed on the figures in the road. The attacker had his back to Jim and the other figure, a man, stood further down the road facing him. The man was cradling what looked like a large wooden bat in his hands as the attacker slowly advanced on him. He didn't seem to notice Jim running towards him.
The attacker was less than a metre away from the man now, and Jim was still too far from them to be any sort of help.
Suddenly, the attacker lunged. An image of being in the supply closet with the thing heading straight at him flashed through his head. Fortunately, the man was more equipped to deal with it than Jim had been at the time.
The bat came to life as the man swung it at the body hurtling towards him. It crashed into the side of the thing's head, making a dull cracking sound, and sending it sprawling to the ground. This slowed it down for about a second then it was back to its feet in a crouch. The man tried a different tactic this time, and jabbed at the thing's throat with the end of the bat. He put his weight behind it and pushed the attacker to the ground, his foot resting heavily on the thing's chest while the bat was firmly in place.
Jim stopped in his run, now a few metres from the scene. The dust that he had kicked up floated around his feet. Spock wasn't far behind him now; Jim could hear the soles of his boots hitting the ground just behind him.
All of the hairs on Jim's arms stood on end when he heard the noise coming from the attacker. The thing near enough shrieked. It was unnerving, but Jim reminded himself that it couldn't have been alive, let alone human. The bat slipped smoothly through the thing's neck like it was a shovel cutting through soil. The dam-breaking-amount of blood that Jim expected to see pour out, never came. Instead, the situation became indefinitely creepier due to its absence. When the bat pulled away, the skin went with it, tearing the thing's neck to pieces. Jim felt a strange sense of justice seeing it, but quickly turned his head to the side when his stomach clenched and flipped over uncomfortably.
He only heard the next few swings. They were getting increasingly more frantic as they went on. The pavement started to take the full brunt of it after a while, and Jim guessed it was safe to look now. He made a point of not glancing down; he didn't want to see what was left of the attacker.
The man was panting short sharp breaths, mostly through his mouth as the stench from the attacker was overwhelming. For the first time, he noticed Jim, and in his heightened sense attacked again without really thinking. Jim was further away than the attacker had been, so his reach wasn't as great.
The bat hit him in the legs and swept his feet out from underneath him, suddenly all he could see was the cloud filled sky above him. Though, that was quickly filled by the form of the man standing over him with the bat raised again. Jim rolled in the dirt, daring to look to the side to see how little the bat had missed him by. The bat was lying there, having been ripped out of the man's hands by Spock and dropped unceremoniously on to the ground. When he clambered to his feet, Spock had the man's arms held behind his back; despite the constant struggling he remained vigilant.
"We're here to help! We're not like those things!"
Jim shouted at the man, hoping that he would understand and calm down. He was well aware that they were probably the first people he had seen in months, and didn't want to frighten him, but he had to raise his voice to be heard over the man's thrashing.
The man suddenly deflated and Spock was left carrying most of his weight. His eyes went wide and he stared at Jim like it was the first time he had really seen him. A few words escaped his lips but none of them formed a full tangible sentence. Spock carefully lowered the man to the ground as his legs didn't seem strong enough to hold any sort of weight, and went to stand next to Jim. As soon as the man felt solid ground he shuffled around so that he was cradling his head with his knees drawn up. Jim frowned at Spock and let out a delayed sigh of relief, he was thankful not to have had his face beaten in, but he wasn't quite sure how to deal with the man.
Jim, ignoring the dirt and all the other things on the ground that he didn't want to know about, approached the hunched over man, dropping to a crouch in front of him.
"Do you understand now? We're not like them. We just want to help and we can't do that if you're attacking us." The man stirred but didn't lift his head. "Do you think you could tell us what happened here?" The man roughly shook his head. His hands rubbed furiously at his forehead which was still resting on his knees. "Please. We can't help if we don't know what we're up against." The man finally mumbled something, but Jim could barely hear it as it was spoken into his lap. "You're going to have to speak up. I can't hear what you're saying."
Jim's calm voice seemed to be working because the man eventually lifted his head, his eyes seeking Jim's. Seeing a friendly face also seemed to be helping as the man stopped shuffling on the spot and some of the tension dissolved off his face. When he spoke, his voice was gruff and dry from being underused for so long.
"It was like a disease. It spread so quickly, no one really stood a chance."
"What did?"
"The mother-fucking zombies!"
Jim winced when the man shouted, so much for using soothing voices. The man seemed to regret it as well because he clasped a hand around his sore throat. Jim still retained his tone, maybe it would calm the man down again.
"We're going to help you. We can get you away from here, away from those things."
At the news of being finally rescued, the man exhausted his leftover energy by getting to his feet. Jim helped as best he could while still trying to keep a small amount of distance. Being alone for so long would make anyone a bit jumpy when it came to contact.
"Are you the sole survivor, or do you know of others?"
The new voice visibly startled the man and Jim glared at Spock for not thinking before he spoke.
"I've seen others. They often pass through the city looking for supplies. I think the last people I saw was around three months ago."
Jim's spirits soared at the news of more survivors, but was dampened slightly when he realised that three months was a long time. They would be miles away by now, and they couldn't search for much longer than they already were. They were stretching their orders thin as it was, three months would be a joke.
"Do you think any of them would have stuck around the city?"
"Maybe. The woman that passed by last said she couldn't do it anymore and was going to find somewhere to hide out until everything blew over, but I don't think that's ever going to happen." He rubbed at his throat again. The talking must have been making it sore. "I don't know if she found somewhere or if she is even still alive. Those fucking zombies might have got her for all I know."
The man seemed well enough to stand comfortably on his feet now. He could walk a few steps without looking like he was going to keel over. The first thing he did was retrieve the bat he had dropped in the scuffle. It was heavy but he managed it, already feeling safer and more composed now that it was in his hands again. He scraped the remains of the attacker off onto the ground. The gruesome gesture didn't bother him and Jim guessed the experience was probably a common event.
"What are these 'zombies'?" Jim questioned. He would have used actual air quotes, but it didn't seem like the appropriate time.
"They're the un-dead. The living-dead. The walking-dead. Whatever you want to call them."
"'Things' seems to be working so far."
"Whatever you call them they're still monsters."
All three of them stood in the middle of the road, the zombie lay in pieces on the floor next to them. They were completely out in the open, an easy target for anyone who might desire to attack them. Yet, they were safe. They had been for most of the time they had been here. Yesterday was the first time they had come across a zombie and the other countless hours they were here they saw nothing.
"What did you mean 'it was like a disease'?"
Jim was aware of certain rare occasions where common diseases had mutated well out of anyone's control. Just look at the common cold. There were millions of different variations of the germ, some stronger than the other, some you could go through without even knowing you had it. Some mutated so far that they couldn't have been classed as a cold. Maybe something like that happened here. A cold that had gone too far.
"These zombies are like infections. They spread quickly and usually off the radar, then before you realise it, everyone has it." Jim scowled, trying to follow. "One bite from those things and you're infected as well. It doesn't matter if they kill you. You come back. You walk around without a heart beat. You're dead but somehow still alive."
Jim gaped. He let out a nervous chuckle then went straight back to frowning.
"They infect you, and then you turn into one of them. Even from a single bite." The man nodded.
Jim glanced at Spock, who was eyeing the communicator on his belt. Jim placed his hand over it protectively. His mind raced and he tried to sort everything out logically before he spoke.
"One of our men was killed yesterday, but he's definitely dead. He's in our morgue."
His eyes wanted to drift over to the zombie on the ground, but he managed to keep them focused on the man. He looked serious and his eyes implored Jim to believe him.
"He won't be for long."
The hand that had been sheltering his communicator snatched it off his belt. Spock stood tensely at his side, leaning closer ever so slightly to hear everything that might be happening.
"Kirk to the Enterprise."
All that echoed back was a stream of static.