The Hospital Part 15

22:45

Leaving Michael and Elliot behind, Emily went straight to the first aid section, but apart from few packets of plasters at best suitable to cover cuts and bruises, the aisle was empty. Nevertheless, she took them and picked up three small Ibuprofen boxes from the floor before rushing to the pharmacy’s back, where she almost ran into Marcus. Elliot’s brother was busy breaking into one of two secure cabinets lined up behind the counter.

“Hello, gorgeous.” Marcus stopped harassing the lock and took off his helmet.

“I’m sorry.” Emily stepped aside and reluctantly looked around. His skinny face and greasy uncut hair alone made her feel uncomfortable.

“Nothing to be sorry about, sunshine,” Marcus replied with a smile, revealing two rows of dirty and neglected teeth. “It’s all good.”

“I’ll just look around,” Emily said, feeling anxious. She disliked Marcus the second he laid his eyes on her, and her sixth sense kept sending warning signals.

“Help yourself,” Marcus muttered and turned back to the cabinet. The sign above it said ‘Prescription medication’. “Now, where were we?” He grabbed both doors handles and pulled, but the lock wouldn’t budge.

More than happy to be left alone, Emily quietly looked around and browsed through the shelves and behind the counter. To her disappointment, she found them empty as well. It looked like looters took everything apart from locked away medication. Hesitant, she approached Marcus but kept her distance, hoping that the cabinet will hold something more potent than Ibuprofen. Agitated, Marcus repeatedly pulled on the metal handles until one of them broke off.

“Ah, you piece of shit,” he cursed, dropped the handle and slipped out of his thick coat. “Can’t move in this damn thing,” he said, noticing Emily standing further behind. “Do you mind?”

“By all means,” Emily replied and turned her gaze away. The sight of a sweaty back underneath a dirty t-shirt didn’t impress her one bit, neither a strong smell of sweat hitting her nostrils. The man in front of her had little regard for hygiene. By now, she was more than confident of going their separate ways as soon as they left the pharmacy.

“Did you find anything useful?” Marcus asked, seemingly enjoying the conversation and picked up his rifle.

“Just some Ibuprofen,” Emily replied quietly, not to sound ignorant.

“Don’t worry, honey,” Marcus said and turned back to the cabinet. “I’m sure we will find something good inside.” He spun the weapon around and slammed its buttstock against the doors. After a few attempts, the lock finally gave up. Satisfied with his efforts, Marcus eagerly ripped it off, opened the cabinet and began rummaging through the contents.

“Nah, that’s shit,” he mumbled, reading the description on one of the boxes and dropped it to the floor. Then grabbed a glass bottle with pills labelled ‘Fentanyl’. “Ah, much better.” Happy with the find, Marcus opened the cap and swallowed a handful.

Meanwhile, Emily picked up the box from the floor. The label said ‘Amoxicillin’. She quickly stashed antibiotics away and asked, “Are there any strong painkillers in there?”

“Not in this one,” Marcus lied, finishing the search and stuffed the bottle in his dirty jean’s pocket. “It’s all shit.”

“It’s ok. I think Ibuprofen will do,” Emily said, stepping towards the doorway. As a part-time nurse, she met plenty of drug addicts and recognized when she saw one. It was time to leave.

“Hold on, sweetie pie.” Marcus stopped her and picked up his rifle again. “Let me check in the second cabinet.”

Hesitant, Emily nodded. The man was already hyped, and she didn’t want to provoke him further.

“Good girl.” Marcus smiled and eagerly smashed the rifle’s buttstock against the second cabinet’s lock, hitting the glass door instead. The sound of breaking glass filled the room, resonating from empty walls. This was too much for Emily’s comfort.

“Elliot asked you to be less noisy,” she said, taking a step back.

“Did he now?” Marcus growled and smashed the rifle against the cracked glass once more, cleaning up the remaining sharp edges. “My brother should be dealing with your husband instead of preaching to me.”

“What, what do you mean by that?” Emily froze in her tracks.

Marcus suddenly stopped and slowly turned around. “Oh, my damn tongue. Always gets ahead of my brain.” He placed his rifle on the counter and took a step towards Emily. “Might as well get to that part right away. You see, Elliot is the brains in our little team, while I am all about muscles and looks.”

“I don’t follow; what do you mean?” Emily whispered and took another step back just to hit the wall. There was nowhere else to retreat. Realising something terrible was about to happen, her frightened gaze ran across the room, looking for anything she could use to defend herself. The only usable object was a fire extinguisher in the far right corner and out of her reach.

“I need to go back to my husband,” Emily said firmly and tried to squeeze past the man, but he unceremoniously shoved her back against the wall.

“Oh, c’mon, don’t play dumb with me, darling,” Marcus growled and placed his left hand on the wall next to Emily’s head. “You don’t need to worry about your hubby anymore. Elliot will take care of him while I will be taking care of you.” He ran his dirty fingers across Emily’s cheek. “Such a pretty lady you are. We will have so much fun, you and I, I promise.”

“Please, stop it. We haven’t done anything to you. Please, let me go.” Emily’s voice shook from the realisation they have made a terrible mistake teaming up with the brothers.

“Too late, honey.” Marcus shook his head. “Now be a good doll and play nice,” he said and tried to force himself on her.

“Get off me!” Emily yelped and tried to push Marcus away, only enraging him with her feeble attempt. Furious, he grabbed her by the throat with the right hand and slammed against the wall. “I warned you to behave! Elliot told me not to harm you, but if you don’t play nice, I will hurt you!”

“Michael!” A desperate scream escaped Emily’s lips as she struggled to free herself from the grasp, and seconds later, a single gunshot echoed from the shop floor.

“What the hell!?” Marcus turned towards the entrance, loosening the grip on Emily’s throat, and she drove her knee up to his crotch.

***

Samantha Lewis died from severe blood loss around the afternoon in the bedroom of her first floor flat on the south side of town. Attacked by a violent stranger just outside the house, she managed to get back inside and lock the doors, but not before the attacker took a large chunk out of her neck, damaging the carotid artery. While the crazed man desperately tried to force his way in, she tried to stop the bleeding, but the injury was too grave. All her attempts to dial 911 were in vain. The emergency line was permanently busy and as minutes ticked away, so did her strength. Feeling faint, she reached the bedroom, where her newborn son cried, disturbed by the noises of unfolding chaos outside.

Most of the town’s residents were waking up to a new reality, and the streets already teemed with infected, attacking everyone in their path. Through the open window, Samantha desperately screamed for help that would never come. Unable to leave the prison her own home has become, she did the only sensible thing a young mother could do — locked herself in her bedroom holding her baby as her consciousness slowly faded away. The darkness replaced the last glimmers of hope.

Three hours later, after the virus had completed her transformation, Samantha opened her milky eyes to the cries of her boy and devoured her hapless child without memory or remorse. But her hunger could never be satisfied, and once her son’s flesh became tasteless, she dropped his remains to start her endless journey for another meal. A scream outside drew her to the open window, where Samantha noticed another prey running along the street. Without fear and hesitation, she jumped through the opening and fell facedown to a hard grass surface beneath, breaking her nose and jaw in the process. Instantly back on her feet, she chased an elderly woman desperately trying to run away from a group of ravenous pursuers, but reborn Samantha caught up with her first. She pushed the woman to the ground and, ignoring her pleas to stop, sank her teeth into the victim’s shoulder. More ghouls joined the feast tearing into human flesh until the taste of the meat faded away, and the group wandered off in search of a new victim.

Samantha managed to feed on a few more occasions while her former neighbourhood still teamed with life and selection. As the day went by, food sources depleted, and voracious gangs began to spread outwards, driven by the neverending urge to kill and devour. Samantha’s path now led her towards the centre of town through empty and abandoned streets. Along with a small group of the others, she was drawn to the occasional gunfire somewhere ahead like a moth to the light.

Shuffling along Maple street past the pharmacy building and unconcerned by the corpse sprawled in front of its entrance, Samantha suddenly heard a loud bang, followed by the sound of breaking glass at the same time as something hit her to the right shoulder. The bullet tore the muscle and drilled deep into the shoulder blade, but her altered brain didn’t register any pain, just the fact of physical contact and, most importantly, the noise, forcing Samantha to halt her advance. The whole group stopped and instantly turned towards the pharmacy’s facade, lured by this sudden change of circumstances.

At first, she didn’t see anything but darkness. Then her eyes picked up on something stirring in the shadows and relayed the information to the still-functioning part of the brain, which gave a needed stimulus in return. Samantha opened her dislocated jaw, released a deafening screech and bolted through the broken window inside the pharmacy towards two struggling human shapes that now fully came into her view.

***

“You sneaky son of a bitch,” Elliot grunted and tried to shake his opponent off. Michael’s move caught him by surprise, but he kept his cool and the grip on the rifle. Bigger and physically stronger than Michael, Elliot suddenly yanked the weapon’s barrel upwards and over his right shoulder, dragging Michael along. He pressed his adversary against an empty shelf but was forced to lean back, stunned by an unexpected jolt of pain when Michael’s right elbow connected with his jaw.

“Good one, but not good enough,” Elliot whispered and drove his right boot straight into Michael’s injured ankle, hard enough for the man to yell in agony and fall to the floor. Heaving, he placed the rifle on the top shelf and slowly unsheathed his hunting knife. “That was very stupid of you, Michael. But you asked for this.” He stepped over his defenceless rival and raised the blade, but a chilling screech from the street forced him to turn around. Elliot’s eyes went wide, watching as leading the pack, the female zombie dashed through the broken display window straight towards him. He overlooked the undead passing by outside In the heat of the struggle, making him their prime target. Samantha closed the distance in split seconds and, before Elliot could grab his rifle, torpedoed straight into him, aiming for the head.

Michael used the opportunity and quickly got back up. “You can blame yourself,” he uttered, turned around and limped towards the pharmacy’s back. His plan almost worked, leaving Elliot to deal with a much deadlier threat than him. Unfortunately, some of the ghouls noticed him and dashed after as if sensing a wounded animal.

Elliot barely dodged Samantha’s bite by shoving her to the side. With his left hand, he grabbed her by the throat, pressed against the shelve and drove the knife through her left omen. Samantha instantly stopped wriggling, and her body slumped beneath Elliot’s feet. Her reborn existence has come to an abrupt end. Immediately faced with another ghoul aiming to take a bite out of his face, Elliot raised his left arm, and the zombie’s teeth sank into the thick coat instead. The undead frantically chewed on the sturdy material exposing his head. Another powerful swing of the blade and another body folded to the floor, but with more inbound, it was evident, he wouldn’t be able to hold them all off. A quick glimpse around revealed Elliot’s dire state of affairs: ghouls, unable to squeeze through narrow shopping isles all at once, spread around through parallel rows, few chasing after Michael, who just vanished in the doorway. Others were about to encircle him.

“Marcus, watch out! You have incoming!” Elliot tried to warn his brother when someone’s hands reached out through the gap between shelves, grabbed him by the tall collar and fiercely pulled backwards. Elliot threw his body mass against the shelving unit with adrenaline surging and flipped it over, trapping the ghoul behind him underneath. Cursing, he rolled back, freeing himself from the clutches, and jumped over the next row of shelves just as several zombies reached his position. He could feel multiple fingers brushing through his back as the undead desperately tried to grab the prey.

Left with no other choice, Elliot stormed through the utility room doors he checked out earlier when they searched the pharmacy and slammed them behind. Cornering himself in a small, cramped room without windows or another way out wasn’t the best choice, but the only one he was left with without being eaten alive. Within seconds, a loud banging erupted on the other side, completing his entrapment.

To be continued