Chapter 11: The Hospital
The longer the survivors spent on the ruined streets of the post-apocalyptic city, the further their hopes sunk. So far, they had encountered no other survivors. Hopefully, some people had been able to escape from Fairfield with their lives.
The silence over the group was a tense one, and not solely due to the constant and intense fear for their lives. The rift that had developed between Francis and Zoey seemed to have put everyone on edge. The last thing they needed was the party tearing itself apart from within. Was it not enough to have ravenous monsters trying to tear it apart from without?
"There it is," Bill suddenly said in relief, pointing at a tall building directly ahead. "Mercy Hospital."
"About damn time," Francis grunted irritably. His feet were killing him; the blisters on his soles were testament to the fact that he never did much walking in his past life, before the outbreak that had laid waste to the United States.
The survivors approached the hospital, eager to get off the streets. The hellish journey that had brought them here had taken its toll on them; they were battered, bruised, exhausted and stressed to the raw nerves. The prospect of a rescue within their reach seemed to be the only thing keeping them going. However, Zoey could feel her heart sinking even further to her toes as she looked beyond the glass entry doors to see total carnage. Brutally-beaten bodies, shattered furniture and countless piles of wreckage and rubble were strewn all over the lobby, while dark stains and bloody handprints covered the once-white walls. It was like looking into an abattoir.
"Are you sure there's an evacuation going on here, Louis?" she asked carefully, struggling to keep a quaver of anguish out of her voice.
"That's what the helicopter said," he replied, not doing as good a job of hiding his worry. What if he had not heard the pilot properly? Had he led them all this way for nothing?
"Either way, we don't have much daylight left. We should get off the streets," Bill said gruffly, urging them into the hospital. They meandered through the destroyed lobby, amid the death and destruction.
As Bill looked around the hospital, violent memories suddenly flashed through his head.
The nurse and surgeon stood overhead, their figures silhouetted by the bright lights of the operating theatre. "I'm going to count down from ten, okay Bill...?"
"Yeah, alright..."
"Ten... Nine..."
Vision going blurry...
"Eight..."
Hazy vision... Eyelids heavy... Blood...? The nurse doubled over, a hand to her mouth...
"Sev – Seven...?"
Blood.
What?
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
"Mercy was overrun," Zoey said suddenly in a hopeless voice, breaking Bill out of his reverie. He looked around to see his party picking absently through rubble, searching for supplies presumably. However, their lack of animation was an indication that they were at the end of their emotional tethers. They needed to rest. But they could not do that down here.
"People were being evacuated from here," Bill said authoritatively. "My best guess is that the helipad on the roof is the best place to go. We might even find a radio."
The group made for the elevators, but found the doors completely blocked by flaming rubble.
"Don't tell me we're going to have to walk up the stairs," Francis groaned.
"Well, feel free to stay down here," Bill replied dryly, moving toward the stairwell doorway. The burly biker sighed warily and followed him.
The grizzled veteran reached the door to find it ajar. However, as soon as he pushed it open, an empty metal bucket that was balanced precariously on top of the door clattered noisily to the ground. The others looked up in shock and then, to their horror, they heard the sounds of scurrying feet running toward them.
"We've got company!" Bill cried, raising his rifle.
Several moments later, several infected people came storming out of nearby rooms, only to be cut down by withering gunfire. Francis constantly pumped new rounds from his shotgun, sending Infected flying backward in a blast of gore with each shot, while Zoey and Louis stood back to back just outside the stairway, firing continuously. Bill's M-16 spat flame in a long burst, blasting away several attackers in a continuous flash of light that consumed his last clip. He cursed and tossed the rifle aside, drawing a pistol.
"Don't let them close the distance!" he yelled, splattering a man's brains across the wall.
A buckshot round tore open an infected woman's body, but another one closed in from the side almost immediately, snarling furiously. Francis cried out as her hands shoved him to the hard floor. He looked up fearfully to see the attacker flexing her claws, and he raised his arms to protect himself as best he could. Suddenly, a hail of bullets tore into the woman's chest, sending gouts of blood flying into the air, covering Francis' face. Grimacing with the foul smell as he rose to his feet, he looked over at Bill and acknowledged him with a grateful nod.
Thirty furious seconds later, the last Common Infected had fallen, in a viscous snarl. The look on its face as it died was one that Bill would never forget. He had seen it before too many times.
"I'm going to count down from ten, okay Bill...?"
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"
Blood...? Lots of it, everywhere. The surgeon brutally killed by the nurse before his very eyes. This was not a dream.
Have to stay awake...
Can't think...
Don't black out.
Goddamn drugs, they...
Stay awake!
Bill struggled to focus his pupils, and then realised the blood-covered nurse was looking directly at him. There was an insane glint in her eyes.
No... he thought frantically, his blood running cold.
He silently screamed at his leg to work. He managed to bring his foot up and kick the nurse in face, sending her crashing to the floor.
Oh, Jesus, Bill's mind whirled as he dragged himself up from the operating table, tearing off his face-mask. Is this real? Is this happening?
Run! The back of his mind yelled at him.
The aging veteran ran out of the operating theatre and down the hallway, struggling not to pass out with the searing pain shooting through his body.
Don't panic. Don't black out.
Everything hurts...
Stay with it! Find something sharp. Kill it. Then get home...
Bill threw himself through a doorway and found himself in an operation prep room. Spying a bone-saw lying on the counter, he willed his hand to pick it up.
"RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAA!"
The nurse was right behind him, her entire face and chest covered in blood. Bill wasted no time and swung the bone-saw with all his might, aiming for her neck.
SPLAT.
THWACK!
The haunting memories were interrupted by a loud CRACK. Bill looked over to see Francis caving the skull of a still-twitching body with his boot. Zoey and Louis both looked disgusted, but chose not to say anything about the grisly scene.
"Everyone okay?" he asked meekly instead.
"Still in one piece," Bill grunted, retrieving his assault rifle and slinging it over his shoulder.
Francis angrily kicked the bucket that had fallen. "What the hell was that thing doing on top of the door?"
"Quiet!" Louis hissed. "What if there are more around?"
The survivors froze, listening carefully for any more movement nearby. They breathed a collective sigh of relief when it appeared that luck was with them for a change.
"It was an alarm system," Bill said observantly. "Set up by survivors. We might not be alone in here."
He set off up the stairs without another word, his pistol held down to his side. Zoey, Louis and Francis took one more look at the body-strewn lobby before following him, cautiously making their way up to the second floor. The stairwell door here was ajar like the previous one, with another bucket balanced on top. However, before Bill could open the door, he felt a strong pair of hands grab him from behind. His pistol fell from his grip as he was shoved roughly against the wall.
"Hands where I can see them, old man," came a rough voice from behind him.
He looked over his shoulder to see a large black man behind him, pinning him against the wall. The man's hot breath washed down his face, and the older survivor could not help but crinkle his nose.
"Let him go!" came Zoey's voice from below. She was pointing her gun at the intruder.
No, Zoey! Bill yelled silently. Turn and run!
However, it was too late. The distinct sound of a rifle being cocked echoed throughout the stairwell.
"Drop your weapons."