Chapter 13: Good Business

Bill sat on the edge of the bed, staring blankly ahead.

The young doctor at the door tried to break the uncomfortable silence. "So... are you expecting any family?"

Bill said nothing.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry," the young man stammered. "That's right. You... um..."

Bill glared at the man. If looks could kill, the doctor might as well have laid down right there for the autopsy.

Regardless, he continued his vain attempts to initiate a conversation. "So. You're a veteran?"

"It's Philadelphia Veterans' Hospital," Bill replied without looking up.

"It's actually a very common procedure. There's nothing at all to be worried about."

"I didn't ask." Straining with the effort, the grizzled veteran reached over to the bedside table and fished out a cigarette from the packet lying atop his clothes.

"Oh, uh... yeah," the younger man said quickly. "You actually can't smoke in here. Sorry. I should have told you earlier."

"You a doctor?" Bill asked, lighting his cigarette and inhaling a deep drag.

"Um, no. Not yet. I'm a resident," the student stammered nervously.

"That like a nurse?"

"Not exactly. It means I'm studying to be a doctor... Ooo, Mr Overbeck, that cigarette..."

Bill turned his head to face the 'resident'. "Kid? Go practice somewhere else."

"...I'm going to count down from ten, okay Bill...?"

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!"

Bill startled awake when he felt a hand grabbing him by the shoulder. His eyes shot open, and his right hand grabbed the offending arm at the wrist. His left hand was holding a knife to the attacker's throat a second later.

"Whoa, whoa! Wait! It's me!" came Roger's voice from above him.

Bill released him after a moment. "Sorry..." he mumbled sheepishly. "You startled me, is all."

The shaken doctor made a mental note not to wake the old man physically again. "I had a look over Louis, and I have good news. While the injuries looked pretty bad, it turns out that they were just some nasty flesh wounds. The biggest danger was from him losing too much blood, but the bandages that you put on kept it minimal."

"He's going to be okay?"

Roger nodded. "I put twelve stitches in. He's resting now."

The wrinkles on Bill's face grew more pronounced as he broke into a smile. "I cannot thank you enough, Doctor."

The other man smiled in response. "That's the reason I stayed behind. As long as I manage to help someone in this whole mess..."

The elder man stood up and clapped him on the back. "Putting your own safety in jeopardy to stay behind and help other survivors? You're a good man, Roger. Unlike someone in my group..." There was a thoughtful silence. "Tell you what, we'll leave him behind, and you can feel free to join us."

They both chuckled at that.

"How bad is it out there?" Roger suddenly asked somberly.

Bill sighed heavily. "I fought in Vietnam, and lemme tell you, even bein' in a war doesn't prepare you for this." He waved his hand through the air in a wide gesture. "They come at you and come at you, and they never goddamn stop!"

Zoey emerged from the shower shivering. Joe had been right, the water was ice-cold. But she was just glad to be clean again. However, she froze literally when she found that her clothes were gone; only one of those ugly green, knee-length hospital gowns had been left for her.

She felt shocked, confused, and then angry. Was this some kind of a practical joke? Get the only woman in the building into a gown which showed her ass through the back? There was going to be hell to pay.

She threw the hospital gown on furiously, jammed her feet into her black and white sneakers and then stormed out of the bathroom, finding Joe standing guard nearby.

"Hey," he said. "How are – "

"Where are my clothes?" Zoey snapped.

Joe balked at the intense anger radiating out from her. "The old guy in your group came by and took all your clothes away to be washed, intensely. There are some tumble dryers here too, so they'll be ready for you to wear again pretty soon."

The former college student immediately calmed down, and flashed him an apologetic smile. "Oh... okay then. Sorry for being such a bitch just then."

"It's alright. How are you feeling?"

"Much better. And now that I know that my clothes are going to clean again, I'm pretty ecstatic." She came over to stand next to him as he kept his gun trained on the stairwell door. "Have the Infected tried to get in here?"

"A few times. Fortunately, there's only one staircase to cover."

"Stairs aren't the only way they can come in. They'd be more than happy to climb in through the windows."

Joe sighed. "Persistent little buggers, aren't they?"

Zoey raised her hands behind her head and started pulling her long brown hair back into a ponytail. "I can't get over how fast they all are – it's not even fair. I... I'm calling zombie bullshit on that, you know?" She giggled awkwardly. "I mean, zombies aren't supposed to be this fast. Sheesh! They're practically Olympic runners, for Christ's sake!" She glanced at Joe to see him looking her over with an amused expression on his face. "Oh... I wasn't rambling, was I?"

"No, just pointing out some very important foul play," Joe replied jokingly. "I'll alert the referees."

They both laughed at that.

"So, what's your story?" she asked him.

"The same as everyone else's. Just trying to survive," he said simply. "What about you? Do you have your family out there somewhere?"

Zoey looked away uncomfortably for a moment. Joe noticed this, and quickly changed the subject.

"I was passing through here on a road-trip with my best buddy. We drove all the way over from LA, and were making our way up to Canada."

"That would have been a nice way to spend the last few days of normality," the young woman replied, a hint of envy creeping into her voice.

"Yeah. Unfortunately, my friend got jumped at a gas station. One thing led to another, and now, here I am."

"I'm sorry," she murmured. "Maybe there's a bright side to all of this."

Joe looked up. "I did get to meet you."

Zoey smiled at him. They both made their way back to the help desk "command centre", where the ex-student had to stifle a laugh at the sight of Francis, big tough-guy Francis, with his ass visible in the back of a flowing hospital gown.

"Nice attire there, Francis," she teased, choosing to ignore the fact that she was wearing an identical gown.

However, the big biker was hunched over the wooden counter, too absorbed in a game of Texas hold'em poker with Trev to answer. Andy was watching them, a smirk etched across his face. Trev had a rather impressive pile of various supplies sitting on the counter in front of him, and Francis' small pile of his remaining ammunition looked rather pitiful by comparison.

He took in the two cards in his hand, and then moved a small blind of 3 shotgun cartridges to the middle of the counter, while Trev slid a big blind of two pistol clips across the counter to join the pot. He looked across at his opponent.

"Do you call the big blind?"

Francis hesitated for a moment, before reaching into his backpack and pulling out a can of baked beans. "I nearly had my balls ripped off by a raving, blood-covered bitch when I snagged this from a grocery store," he said, as he slid the can across the counter to join the pile in the middle. "That's worth at least another M1911 clip."

The large black man sat in contemplation for a moment, before matching. "I see your raise."

He nodded at Andy, who proceeded to place three cards face-up on the counter. Queen of Hearts, Two of Spades and Three of Clubs.

"Raise a pistol clip," Trev said.

His opponent added three more shotgun shells to the pot to call. Another card was turned over. Six of Clubs. Another raise later, the fifth and last card was placed on the counter. The Queen of Diamonds.

Francis grinned triumphantly. "I raise ten shotgun shells. Your move, Bob Marley."

"Three M1911 clips to see the raise, Trev," Andy said warningly.

The man in question smiled confidently as he added three pistol clips to the pot.

Francis was taken aback. Surely he doesn't have a Queen too?"

"Show cards," Andy demanded.

Francis placed his hand face-up in front of him. "Three Queens."

Trev placed his hand down. Four of Spades and Five of Diamonds. "Straight."

"Shit!" Francis swore as Trev pulled the pot toward him, grinning smugly.

"You wanna go again?" he asked.

Before Francis could answer, Zoey stepped forward. "I'd rather you didn't gamble away the last of our supplies, Francis," she snapped. "I'll take it from here."

Her compatriot shot her a look in disdain. "Please. You don't know how to play poker."

Zoey put her hands on her hips indignantly. "Nevertheless, Bill tasked me with getting us more ammo. Now move aside."

Everyone watched silently as Zoey and Trev were each dealt two cards. As big blind, Zoey was forced to place two of her pistol clips into the pot before the round had even begun. She felt slightly anxious to know that if she lost this hand, she only had one clip left for her M1911. She looked at the cards she had been dealt. Ten of Hearts and Seven of Clubs. Not much worth writing home about. Andy flipped over three cards, revealing the Seven of Diamonds among them.

Sweet, got a pair already! Zoey thought to herself.

"I raise an M-16 magazine," Trev said suddenly, cutting into her thoughts.

"I call," she replied, adding her last pistol clip to the pot.

Andy turned over the next card. Ten of Spades.

Two pairs, Zoey thought to herself. Sweet Jesus, I could get a Full House here!

Three of a Kind, Trev thought to himself in satisfaction. "I raise two pistol clips and an M-16 magazine," he said, adding the ammunition in question to the pot. He looked over at Zoey, challenging her to see his bet.

She blanched. That was a big raise.

"Well?" he piped up.

He fully expected his opponent to fold. However, he was shocked when she grabbed her group's first-aid pack and placed it on the table.

"Raise has been called," Andy said, placing the last card down on the table. Eight of Hearts.

Shit! Zoey yelled in her head. No Full House!

"I raise another magazine," Trev said, a little more cautiously this time.

Zoey's mind was screaming in frustration, but she kept a calm and composed facade. If he reads me, I'm done. She calmly picked up her pistol and placed it on the counter. "I believe that's worth another five M-16 magazines."

Her opponent was visibly taken aback.

"You realise you've pretty much just gone all in?" Francis commented disapprovingly. Amateur.

However, Trev threw down his cards in disgust. "I fold."

"Nice one, Zoey!" Joe said encouragingly.

"Hey, whose side are you on here?" his party member snapped.

The former student looked over at Francis to see that his jaw had hit the ground. "What? My campus room-mates were all card junkies."

"Nice play," her opponent said evenly. "What did you have?"

"I don't remember," she replied casually, burying her cards in with the others and erasing all evidence of her bluff.

"I raise a magazine."

"Call."

Several rounds later, a pot of impressive size was building in the middle of the desk. It was at that moment that Roger and Bill entered the room, each holding a pile of freshly-laundered clothes.

"Zoey!" he exclaimed. "What are you doing?"

"Securing us more ammo, like you asked," she replied without looking up from her cards.

Finally, Andy placed the last card down on the table. "Show cards."

"Two pairs," Trev said slowly, revealing his hand.

Zoey smiled and showed her cards. Like the opposition, she had identical two pairs. However... "My highest card is higher than yours," she pointed out.

"Are you kidding me?" he cried incredulously. "Beaten by a high card?"

Zoey smiled sweetly. "Pleasure doing with business with you."

Trev looked shell-shocked for a moment. Suddenly, a wide smile broke out on his face, and he erupted in a roar of laughter.

Several hours later, Francis stood guard at the stairwell and Andy walked through the ward on a patrol, while the others slept. Zoey pointing out the windows to Joe as possible points of entry had severely spooked him. Andy was now being sure to check every room for Infected.

CRASH! His head snapped up with the sound of shattering glass nearby. He ran to the door and opened it, the cone of light from his flashlight revealing that the window in the room behind the door had been broken. A dark hooded figure was crouched on all fours on the floor in front of the shattered window, creeping forward slowly.

"Oh, shit..."

Suddenly, Andy heard growling behind him. He looked over his shoulder to see another hooded figure crouched in the hallway.

"RRRRAAAAAAAAIIIIIIIIIIIIUUUU UUGGGGGGGGHHHHHH!"

With a terrifying scream, the predator pounced, knocking Andy to the floor with tremendous force. It raised its claws to strike.

"NO!" Andy screamed.

But it was too late.

AUTHOR'S NOTES:

I realise I might have gotten a little carried away with the poker in this chapter. But I don't care. It was a lot of fun to write. While I was writing, I remembered the poker nights I had with some card sharks when I was living on-campus in Canada, and I'm no gambler by any means. Needless to say, I came out of them poorer, but with a lot of stories.

Anyway, I promise the next chapter will have more action and no poker.

Credit for Bill's flashbacks goes to The Sacrifice comic.