Chapter 12: Sanctuary

"Drop your weapons."

Louis, Francis and Zoey looked up to see another survivor crouched on the stairs further up, aiming an assault rifle at her. The former student promptly dropped her pistol and held both of her hands in the air above her head, Louis quickly following suit.

Their captor motioned at Francis. "You too."

"Oh, yeah?" he sneered. "What are you gonna do if I don't?"

"Francis!" Bill snapped over his shoulder. "Just do as he says!"

The survivor above them realigned his aim at the biker's head. "I'll give you to the count of three." Louis and Zoey exchanged nervous glances. "One... Two..."

"Guys, wait!" she exclaimed. "What are we doing? We're all survivors here. We should be helping one another. Not holding each other at gunpoint!"

There was an awkward silence following her statement.

"Please," she continued. "We fought our way through hell to get here. We just want to find the rescue."

After a few more moments, the two offending survivors hesitantly lowered their guns, while Zoey and Louis slowly lowered their hands.

"Sorry for surprising you like that," the black man behind Bill said, his dreadlocks swaying as the older man turned to face him. "We were just a little spooked when we heard our bucket fall over downstairs. We thought the Infected were making their way up."

"It's okay. Can't be too careful," Bill replied, offering his hand. "Name's Bill."

The large man took it in a strong grip. "I'm Trev." He gestured up at his partner on the stairs above them. "That's Andy."

Bill gestured to the rest of his group. "Louis, Francis and Zoey."

"Nice to meet you," she said shyly. "We're glad we're not the only ones left."

Trev chuckled. "We have a couple more of our own further up. Follow me."

The six survivors turned and climbed up another couple of flights of stairs, Bill uttering a muttered curse every now and then.

"Don't like stairs, Bill?" came Zoey's voice from behind him.

"Not one bit," he grunted, pointing down at one of his knees. "Old war injury. Telling you now; climbing stairs with a stiff knee is not fun."

"Hey, Trev, right?" Francis called from further down the stairs. "There wouldn't happen to be working showers around here, would there?"

"As a matter of fact, there are," he answered. "Do you need one?"

"No. You look like you do though."

Trev, however, laughed off the insult. "Real charmer we've got here."

Francis is kidding himself if he thinks he doesn't need a shower, Louis thought in disgust. I can smell him from here.

Zoey, however, nearly exploded with excitement. "Sweet Jesus, a shower? Yes! Are there washing machines too? I've been wearing these clothes for over a week."

"Yep, there are," Trev answered with a chuckle. "Don't worry, we'll have you four smellin' like roses again in no time." He finally stopped at the fifth floor. "Here we are."

He pushed the door open, and the others followed him into a hospital ward, just as desecrated as the lobby. He led them to the left down a dim hallway to the help desk, where there were two more survivors sitting down in cheap-looking white plastic chairs.

The older of the two stood up, fumbling with a Uzi rather clumsily. "Trev! Andy! Who are they?"

Bill stepped forward and offered his hand. "More survivors, son. We already got the shakedown from your colleagues."

"Glad someone else made it," the middle-aged man said, shaking his hand. "I'm Roger." He gestured to the younger black-haired man sitting in the chair behind him. "This is Joe."

"Pleased to meet you all," Joe said, standing up. He gazed over at Zoey and flashed her a warm smile. She reciprocated.

"If you don't mind me asking, why haven't you four been rescued yet?" Louis asked curiously. "I heard that there was supposed to be an evacuation here."

"There is," Trev said, gesturing to a battered-looking radio sitting behind the desk. "We were able to get in touch with one of the north-east safe-zones. They're going to send a helicopter, but they can't get one out until tomorrow morning, as they're all already out on other rescue missions."

Zoey felt her spirits lift dramatically with those words. So there were other survivors out there...

Andy nodded at the newcomers. "You guys got here just in time."

Bill gave a weary sigh as he surveyed his surroundings. Although they had finally made it to Mercy Hospital, he knew that they were not out of the woods yet.

"How long have you been holed up in here?" he asked Roger.

"A few days. There were more of us before." The man's voice was laced with regret.

"That was before the Infected broke in?"

He nodded silently.

"How safe are we in here?" Bill asked.

"We managed to clear out this floor," Roger replied. "Well, they did most of the clearing," he added, motioning to the younger men of his group, who were quietly mingling with the others. "I'm not much of a fighter."

"What do you do?"

"I'm a doctor. I was supposed to leave on the last helicopter, but it was full, so I volunteered to stay behind and treat any new survivors who showed up."

"I'm glad you did," Bill replied. He nodded toward Louis. "My friend was badly-injured. He needs medical attention."

Roger nodded. "I can only do so much, though. As you can see, the more advanced equipment isn't exactly in working order."

Bill turned to address the rest of the survivors. "Okay, it turns out that our friend Roger here is a doctor. Looks like you lucked out, Louis."

If he's not already mutating in to a bloodthirsty freak, Francis thought to himself.

"We're going into the next room to let Roger work," Bill continued. "You all keep watch out here."

With that, he and Zoey helped their friend into a nearby private room. They sat him down on the bed, and Roger started removing the bandages that had been wrapped around his chest. He clicked his tongue when Louis' chest was revealed.

"Hm, this does look pretty nasty. I'll need to clean the wounds to get a better idea of what I'm dealing with..."

As the doctor worked, Zoey and Bill walked over to the door.

"I'll watch Louis," he said to her. "You and Francis should restock on ammo."

"But – " she started to argue.

Bill cut her off with a wave of his hand. "Look, Zoey, we're all dead on our feet. But I need you both to see what ammo you can scrounge up. This hospital is still swarming with the Infected."

She finally nodded and walked back to join the others, while Bill plonked himself down on a chair just outside Louis' room. Without realising it, he immediately slumped down, with his beret sliding down over his eyes.

Francis threw himself into a chair gratefully and stretched out, while Trev and Andy cleaned their guns.

"So, you're the ones who've been holding the fort, huh?" he said absently.

"Yep," Andy replied proudly. "You wouldn't believe how many Infected I've popped."

The large biker snorted. "Bet I've popped more."

"You guys wouldn't happen to have any food, would you?" Zoey suddenly piped up.

Andy gestured to the nearby kitchenette. "Help yourself to anything not rotting. Hospital was stocked with food, but we're starting to run low on supplies."

Francis grunted. "Ain't nothin' like crappy hospital food." He looked over to see Trev shaking his head. "What's up with you? Got a problem with bikers?"

"Nope," the large man replied. "Just you."

"Oh, yeah? And why's that?"

"You're startin' to become a pain in my ass," he said, standing up menacingly.

Francis rose to meet him, and they both stood face-to-face for a moment, sizing each other up.

"Okay, boys. Put the rulers away, zip up," Zoey said suddenly, tapping them both on the shoulders.

She pushed her way through the middle of them, forcing them both to step back and earning her a scathing look from Francis. She passed through into the kitchen and emerged a few moments later, carrying an assortment of candy bars. She threw one to Francis, who deftly caught it with one hand.

Joe chuckled. "Trying to keep up a balanced diet?"

Zoey opened a candy bar and bit into it hungrily. "Well, there wasn't much else in there besides rotten apples, rotten bananas, rotten broccoli... oh, and some powdered custard."

"Trust me, the custard tastes better than it looks," Joe said, smiling.

"There's another kitchenette on the far side of the ward. There should be more food in there," Andy offered helpfully.

"Well, I'm just looking forward to some real food again once we get to the safe-zone," Trev yawned, sitting back down in his chair.

"Hey, Trev," Zoey said. "You were saying before that there are showers around here?"

"Yeah, but you gotta be careful. We managed to clear out this floor, but there are still Infected all over the hospital."

Joe stood up. "Come on," he said gently. "I'll show you where they are."

After he and Zoey had gone, Francis turned his head toward Andy. "Hey, my group is runnin' low on ammo. Do you have any to spare?"

"We have some spare pistol clips, as well as a few rifle magazines."

"We're gonna need 'em."

"Well, you're gonna have to earn them," Trev said gruffly.

Francis' eyes narrowed in challenge. "And how's that?"

Trev grinned, and produced a pack of cards. "Ever played Texas hold'em?"

"So here they are," Joe said, leading Zoey into the shower room; a tiled room with curtain-covered cubicles. "I'm sorry to say that the hot water is long gone, but it's a small price to pay to feel human again."

Zoey, however, was too busy grinning from ear-to-ear to answer. She moved toward the nearest cubicle and pulled off her track jacket revealing her white vest. She turned back to see Joe still standing guard. He was facing away from her, watching the bathroom door.

She frowned and cleared her throat. "Um, a little privacy?"

"Oh, sorry! Sorry!" Joe stammered awkwardly. "It's just that we have to keep watch on the door, the Infected could come in... I'm really sorry. I'll go outside."

He quickly left the room, and Zoey smiled.

Roger cleaned and dressed Louis' wounds, pausing for a moment when his patient gasped as a sharp, stabbing pain shot through his body.

"Sorry," Roger said apologetically. "I'd use anaesthetic if there was any."

"Hey man, don't worry about it," Louis replied.

"I just wish the damn helicopter would hurry up and get here," Roger grumbled.

Suddenly, his attention was diverted by a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye.

Did I just see something move past the window?

Drawing his pistol, Roger approached the glass, and peered through it carefully. He breathed a sigh of relief when he saw nothing threatening outside.

"What is it?" Louis asked nervously.

"Nothing," Roger replied, holstering his pistol. "Just my imagination."