*Trigger Warning: Violence and Gore
Chapter 8
I was suffering from some kind of fucked up deja vu.
Everything was the same yet completely different. The morgue appeared as though it hadn't been touched by the same disaster which had decimated the entire first floor. If it wasn't for the trail of blood or the dead silence floating all around me, I could've believed this was me just two weeks ago about to see James for the final time. I half expected Nurse Rachel to stroll in with her clipboard in hand, ready to give me a smile and her condolences.
The cold light overhead, the chill in the air making my breath visible. The dread in the pit of my stomach, simultaneously not wanting to see what I was about to but desperate to see anyway. Knowing I was completely and utterly alone in the world yet realizing the corpse before me was the only family I had left.
I don't know if I was more happy or sad that his corpse wasn't here. Seeing it once was enough to haunt my nightmare for the rest of my life but not seeing it made me feel… lonely. God, I don't even want to admit how much I was hoping he'd be here, not as a dead body but as himself, how he was.
I was sure he'd be here.
In a way, he was.
The steel table which James had been laid on wasn't holding his body. It was displaying his clothing. His signature dark green jacket, his favorite grey polo shirt, his dark jeans and boots. Even his little flashlight and portable radio were lying on the breast pocket of his jacket.
All laid out, as if waiting for him.
I set my pipe down on the table, trying not to be too loud but not really caring anymore. I reached out to touch his jacket. Yeah, it was real alright. My fingers were cold from the chilly air yet it felt… warm. When I bent down to sniff it, it smelled like him. He always wore that cheap-ass cologne, smelling like woodsmoke and cedar. You know, like a manly smell. I thought about every time I gave him crap for never buying a higher-quality fragrance, always teasing him and making fun of him.
Now I didn't want anything more than to bathe in the cheap, artificial crap.
Tears fell from my eyes, the droplets leaving dark spots on his shirt. I guess I was wrong, I did have tears left in me. Somewhere in the back of my head I knew this wasn't real. It couldn't be because these were the very clothes James's body had been found in. They had been shoved into a plastic bag which had sat at that very desk over there in the corner. Even as distraught as I was, I remember seeing them, stained with his dried blood. I had wanted to bury him in at least his jacket but that damned priest had come to the apartment when I was at school to pick out a suit. It wasn't until James's funeral that I realized he had picked the ugly dark grey one, the one that made James look like a pathetic traveling salesman.
When I went to bury my face in his shirt, both the radio and flashlight suddenly turned on, both startling and blinding me. There was nothing but static on the radio, sounding exactly like the static from my phone.
That wasn't good….
Grabbing my pipe, I spun around. My eyes were still adjusting from the flashlight but I could just make out a figure down the hallway, ambling towards me. Where I had tried to stay out of the bloody mess on the floor, it didn't seem to care. Its feet slipped in it yet it somehow kept its balance enough to continue to make its way toward me. When my eyes finally adjusted, I saw what I had been dreading I'd see. It was vaguely male with dark hair, its once white lab coat splashed with blood. I prayed it wasn't Dr. Richard's because I don't think I could forgive myself if it was.
And of course in its pale, dead hand was the larger-than-life scalpel.
"Fuck… fuck… fuck."
There was no Dr. Richard to save me this time. I was going to have to do this myself.
Only I couldn't move.
The static became louder the closer Dr. Zombie came but still, I couldn't move. I was glued, planted on the spot. The pipe was frozen in my hands, heavy and useless. I knew what I had to do, I just… couldn't do it.
The monster raised its scalpel and opened its mouth, making those same, awful gurgling sounds the other one had made. Blood trickled down its chin and it just kept on stumbling towards me. That's when I noticed its eyes. I don't know why I hadn't noticed them on the other two zombies. Its eyes were completely milky white, the eyes of a dead man. There was no thought there, no life.
Well, there was a thought there and only one.
To kill me.
That was enough to break its spell over me. I went to the doorway and waited for it, holding my pipe like a bat. I was never any good at sports, I mean, I had James as a father for Christ's sake. He wasn't exactly athletic himself. He did manage to teach me the basics though and was weirdly insistent on me knowing how to properly swing a bat. So I adjusted my grip and turned my body sideways, bending my knees and centering my weight, just like he taught me.
If I hadn't had been prepared, I would've been taken by surprise when the last few feet Dr. Zombie suddenly lunged at me, that fucking scalpel gleaming bright. But I was ready. I leaned backwards to dodge its attack and then swung my pipe with everything I had. I instantly became nauseous when the metal made contact with its head, shattering its skull and teeth. The zombie-doctor-thing let out a screech as it fell to the floor, slipping and sliding in the trail of blood.
I looked down on it as it tried to crawl towards me, its hand still gripping the scalpel. If it wasn't for the fact that the thing was trying to actively murder me, I might have actually felt pity for it. I don't even think it knew what it was doing, why it wanted me dead. I didn't want to hurt it. I didn't want any of this. It swung its hand feebly at me, the scalpel missing my right boot by inches. Raising my pipe above my head, I was ready to bring it down. I should have.
But I didn't.
The static became deafening, almost like it was screeching at me. The high pitched sound made me glance back at it and just at that moment, Dr. Zombie darted out its other hand and grabbed at my left boot. Its pathetic fingers were slick with blood and couldn't get a grip around the leather. I easily pulled my boot out of its desperate clutching and took a step backwards, my pipe still raised.
Still I didn't bring it down.
That hesitation was all Dr. Zombie needed.
Before I could even bring the pipe down on its bloodied face, it gave out a gargled growl and with a sudden strength it didn't have a moment ago, it pulled itself forward and tangled its fingers in my laces. I yelped as it yanked backwards, causing me to crash onto the floor and land on my ass in the glistening blood. Now Dr. Zombie seemed excited as more blood and growling sounds spilled from its ruined mouth. It tightened its grip on my boot and swung again with its other hand holding the scalpel. By some fucking miracle, it missed, giving me barely enough time to kick its face. When the grip stayed strong on my boot, I kicked it again and then again.
It let out another gargled growl only this time it sounded more like a scream as it released its grip on me. I scrambled backwards, slipping in the blood. Somehow I got to my feet with my pipe still in my hand. Any shred of pity I felt for the thing had fled and only one feeling remained.
Rage.
I finally brought the pipe down.
It cracked the thing's skull, even more. Still it crawled towards me, swinging its arm wildly now, the scalpel getting even closer. Again I brought the pipe down. This time blood and brains sprayed everywhere, on me, on the walls. The pipe came down again. And again. I don't know when I started screaming, I just realized I was.
Roaring was more like it.
After my final swing, Dr. Zombie's body gave one last twitch then stopped moving forever. Giving one final roar, I dropped the pipe.
Let the fucking monsters hear me and come find me!
I'll give them a final end like I just gave Dr. Zombie!
Looking down on the beaten corpse of a corpse, its head, shoulders, and back now a lumpy mass of blood and bone and brain, I fell back against the door. The corn flakes I had had for breakfast, the milk now sour, my grief, my rage, my fear, all of it came spewing out. With my stomach now completely empty, I turned and stumbled back into the morgue. James's clothes were still there, waiting. The radio was silent now but the flashlight remained on.
Shaking, I kind of figured I was in shock. I stumbled to a sink by the back wall and threw up again. Only bile came out this time as my body heaved.
My breathing came out in tearing gasps. My hands still shook as I turned on the faucet, not questioning how the water came on or how it was clean. I washed my face and rinsed out my mouth, my throat on fire from the screaming and vomiting. Glancing down at my hands, I realized the water was running red. I was covered in that thing's blood. I grabbed the bar of soap and scrubbed at my hands, my face, even my hair.
The water still ran red.
I ripped off my jacket and threw it to the ground, refusing to acknowledge the soaking blood and bits of bone stuck to it.
I scrubbed my arms and legs, letting the water seep into my socks and boots. My dress was somehow still mostly clean so I just wiped off any bits of Dr. Zombie I could find. Once I was completely soaked and shaking from the cold and shock, I turned off the water. I just stood there, shivering with my teeth chattering. I tried not to look at the thing on the ground.
It was all I could look at.
With Rage now satisfied, She left. Now it was just me. No Panic, no Reason. Just me. I knew the hospital wasn't empty, not really. Not only was Dr. Richard somewhere out there looking for me, so were Dr. Zombies and who knew what the fuck else. It wasn't safe here. I had to keep going. As calm as I was ever going to be, I gently took James's jacket from the table and wrapped myself in it. I slipped the flashlight and radio, both still on, into the breast pocket, with the light shining outwards. I messed with the dials on the radio but there was only silence.
Bending down, I burrowed my face in James's shirt. How could it still be warm? After one final sniff of him, I straightened up and walked to the doorway. My hand shook a little when I knelt down to grab my pipe. Getting to my feet, I looked down the hallway, my flashlight now lighting the way.
All I had to do was step forward and leave everything behind.
So I did.