Dead Highways (Book 3): Discord (21 page)

The helicopter had two rows of seats. Ray sat in the pilots chair in the right front, with Jenson to his left. I sat in the second row with Zoe and Dr. Bailey to the right of me. After some intense haggling, Paul had agreed to let the doctor come on the mission so as long as he promised to stay up on the helipad—out of the hospital and out of danger. Just in case we weren’t able to follow the map to the pharmacy, he’d be there to consult with. The map Bailey had drawn wasn’t too detailed, which I thought could be a good thing or a bad thing, though I imagined the most challenging part would be locating the correct drugs once we reached the pharmacy.

I had on a black tactical vest Jenson had set me up with from the armory. The vest had all sorts of compartments on the front and back to hold supplies. Magazines. Shotgun shells. Radio. Knife. My wonderful Sally fit perfectly in the side draw holster. To save space in the cabin, we put the long guns in the helicopters rear storage compartment.

Dozens of people came out to see us off. Peaches stood between Robinson and Naima, arms crossed, with an anxious look on her face. Like me, she wanted the best for Craig. She understood the severity of his condition. But still she wasn’t happy that I had volunteered to go. I told her it was a simple supply run to a hospital. We’d be in and out in a jiffy. No infected. Nothing to worry about. After seeing how many guns we brought along, she didn’t buy it, and campaigned hard to have me step down and let someone else go in my place.

Not happening.

I held steady—kept my resolve.

I’d also be lying if I said I wasn’t a little eager to leave the school, even if only for a couple of hours. Part of it was getting to ride in the helicopter, which I had wanted to do ever since we arrived at the school. I could cross that off my bucket list. But mostly, I think I needed a reminder of the threat that plagued the world. Living at the school, it was easy to become complacent—forget how things were outside the fence. I hoped today would give me a dose of reality—just enough to show me again how good I had it.

Ray began going through the process of starting the helicopter, flipping overhead switches and checking gauges. “Better put on your ear pro,” he said, glancing back at the three of us in the backseat.

I brought the large muffs I normally wore while target shooting in the gym. The others all wore foam ear protection. Ray had mentioned earlier that it gets pretty loud inside the helicopter, and he wasn’t kidding. A whining sound accompanied the rotating blades overhead as they quickly increased in speed. Once the engine was fully warm, the sound seemed to level off and become more tolerable.

The helicopter started to shake just a little right before we left the ground. I waved at everyone below as we drifted upward, wobbling side to side. At about fifty feet, we hovered for a brief moment while Ray pointed the chopper the right direction. The next thing I know we were diving forward and then up, up, and away we went, gliding through the warm spring air.

It was a beautiful day, blue-skied and sunny, made even more fabulous by our angelic vantage point. I was fortunate to have a window seat, eyes glued on the lush earth below, committing the sight to memory as we coasted over trees and swampland and empty fields. After a few minutes, tall gray buildings slowly began to appear in the distance, growing larger as we crossed miles of open land and drew closer to the outskirts of New Orleans.

Zoe leaned into me and said, “Pretty spectacular, huh?”

I smiled and nodded. Having never even ridden on an airplane before, let alone a helicopter, I was a little nervous about getting airsick. The fact that I’d felt queasy through much of the boat ride across the Gulf of Mexico didn’t help calm my initial fear. But alas, it turned out all my worrying had been wasted time. The chopper coasted through the sky smooth and easy, leaving my sensitive stomach satisfied.

As Zoe had appropriately said, it was a spectacular sight seeing the city from above. It really gave you a sense of scale that being on the ground or looking at a map could never do. The major highways in particular caught my eye. The hundreds of thousands of infected that walked along them were small and indistinct, like a caravan of ants crossing a great distance, seeking out a new place to call home. But these weren’t ants, they were people. People like me, only not nearly as lucky. Their time as human beings had come to an unfortunate end, and yet, still they walked below, somehow kept alive by an unknown force, robbed of the lasting peace only death could bring. Now trapped in an undead existence, they wandered the world without thought to who they’d once been, but not without purpose. They were going somewhere.

West.

But how much farther did they have to go?

And when and where would the journey end?

Ray began slowing the helicopter down as we got close to the hospital. Directly to the north was Lake Pontchartrain, spreading out far and wide. The early afternoon sun gleamed atop the surface of the water.

Just below us was a series of large buildings, one of which had a red square painted on top with a large white cross in the center. The hospital’s helipad. With our landing zone in sight, Ray began to decrease our altitude. He circled the building and then came back around for the final descent, taking us the rest of the way down slow and careful. The chopper’s feet bounced softly along the concrete pad as Ray completed the landing. Then he gradually brought the throttle down to reduce engine power.

Once the blades stopped turning and it was safe to exit, we all got out and began unloading the weapons from the storage compartment.

Zoe handed me a rifle. “You ready for this, kid?”

“Born ready.” I popped a magazine in, pulled the charging handle, and slung the rifle over my back. “I bet you wish Bowser was here instead of me, huh?”

Zoe tucked her chin and gave me the bug eyes. “Oh no. That man is crazy.”

We both laughed.

All loaded up, Dr. Bailey led us down a short set of stairs to the hospital’s rooftop entrance.

“This is where we leave you, doc,” Jenson said. “You too Ray. Jimmy…you got the map?”

“Got it,” I said, unfolding the crude map of the hospital the doctor had drawn.

“I’m going with you,” Dr. Bailey said.

Jenson shook his head. “No, you’re not. You remember the promise you made to Paul. You stay up here on the roof. You’re the only doctor we have at the school. You’re too valuable. Something happens to you inside the hospital and this whole trip was for nothing. Same thing goes for Ray. Something happens to him and we don’t have a ride back.” Ray nodded in agreement. “You don’t want Craig to die, do you?”

“Craig won’t die,” Dr. Bailey replied.

“Of course he won’t. Because you’re gonna stay right here and wait for us to return with the medication. Got it?”

“No, you’ll never find the pharmacy without me.”

“That’s what the map is for. If we got a problem, we’ll call you on the radio. So keep it on.”

“That’s not a map,” Dr. Bailey said.

“What?” Jenson ripped the sheet of paper out of my hands. “Looks like a map to me.”

“It’s lines. But it won’t lead you to the pharmacy. I made it up.”

Jenson shoved the piece of paper into the doctor’s chest. “What do you mean you made it up?”

“I drew the map to appease Paul. But it’s not correct. It won’t lead you anywhere. Paul wasn’t going to let me come unless I told him everything he wanted to hear. You can’t do this without me.”

“You fucking dick,” Jenson said, grabbing the doctor by his shirt. “I should throw you off the roof.”

“Is that gonna help save Craig?” Dr. Bailey asked. “Please, I’m not trying to cause problems. I understand your concern. But you need to understand mine. Pharmacies aren’t like drug stores. Once you get in there, you might not have a lot of time to find the proper medication. I can get us in and out much faster. I promise you.”

“Just let him go,” Zoe urged. “It’s not like we have much of a choice now anyway.”

Jenson pushed the doctor back. The sheet of paper with the fake map drawn on it fell to the ground and was swept away a moment later by a stiff breeze.

“I’m sorry I had to lie to all of you,” Dr. Bailey said. “But it was the only way.”

“We don’t even know for sure if there is even infected inside,” I said.

Jenson turned and placed his hand down on the door handle. The latch disengaged and the heavy door cracked open.

I held the door while Jenson pointed his rifle into the dark room. Attached to the end of the barrel was a flashlight with a very bright but fixed focus beam. He scanned the dark room with the business end of the gun, exposing the shadows. Another door lay directly ahead. Beside it, a large elevator with no running lights. To the right was a staircase.

No sounds.

No infected.

Jenson lowered his rifle. “So far so good.”

We gave Ray a radio and let him know there was an extra gun in the chopper’s storage compartment in case of emergency, and then the four of us headed inside the hospital.

With our gun lights brightening the path in front of us, we began down the staircase. Jenson led the way with Dr. Bailey at his ear behind him so he could give instructions on where to go. Bailey was the only one of us without a tactical vest, though he did have a backpack slung over one shoulder and a small pistol in his hand.

Before leaving the helipad, Jenson had handed him the gun with only one simple request. “Don’t shoot me in the back,” he had said with a fierce look in his eyes. The way the doctor limply held the gun, I was sure he didn’t have much experience with firearms. He certainly had never shown his face down at the gym to train on my watch.

We descended two flights of stairs, sweeping our flashlights up and down and around, unmasking the quiet darkness. The soles of our shoes squeaked against the slip-resistant floor producing a chirping echo in the stairwell. With no backup power, the inside of the hospital was hot and muggy. The air outside on the helipad was cooler. Beads of sweat begin to gather around my temples. It certainly didn’t help that I was wearing so much gear. Despite how functional it was, and how great it looked on me, the vest was heavy and unwieldy. Maneuvering with it on was something that would take practice.

We stopped outside the door to the second floor.

“This it?” Jenson asked.

Dr. Bailey nodded. “It should still be unlocked. I came through here when I fled. Went down the fire escape toward the rear of the complex.”

“And how far is the pharmacy?”

“It’s a little ways down.”

Damn. And I was expecting it to be right on the other side of that door. I was also starting to think maybe we wouldn’t need these guns either. That was until Jenson pulled open the door to the second floor. His flashlight fell upon three moaning dead not ten feet away, their backs turned to us. Hearing us emerge from the stairwell, the three zombies pivoted around on unsteady legs, drawn by the blinding light washing out the darkness, and began stumbling toward the open door.

A wave of gunfire hit them all at once, as me, Jenson, and Zoe all unleashed a fury of bullets in their direction. Dr. Bailey was the only one not to fire, and I think we were all okay with that. I’ll say this—I was glad I still had my ear protection on. The sound of the rapid gunfire in the hollow stairwell was unbelievably loud even with the earmuffs on.

The zombies collapsed to the floor in a dead heap, bleeding out thick pus-like blood. Then there was silence once again.

But not for long.

Jenson’s radio suddenly came to life.
“I heard that,”
Ray said over the receiver. His voice barely registered over the static interference.
“Is everything okay in there?”

Jenson unclipped the receiver from his vest and replied. “Everything is fine. But you can expect to hear more of that. We’ve got company down here. Over.”

“Stay safe.”

“Will do.” After clipping his radio back onto his vest, Jenson pointed his gun light down at the three bullet-riddled bodies on the floor in front of us. “Let’s try to be more conservative with our ammo next time.”

Right.

Conserve ammo like good little soldiers.

Unfortunately, a teaspoon of instinct, two tablespoons of fear, and a dash of the will to live said go fuck off with your common sense buddy. Something reared its ugly head out of the darkness and came at me, I wouldn’t hesitate to give it a lead sandwich—the older, asshole brother of knuckle sandwich.

Jenson waved us inside. “Come on. We need to hurry.”

We met up with another two shambling dead not far into the second floor. They had likely been drawn our direction by the gunfire, curious what happened to their three droopy-faced friends. We took the two down and pressed on. Dr. Bailey, more adept at saving lives than taking them, still kept his pistol down—
thankfully
—and let us handle the killing. I couldn’t help but think that master marksman Ted would have enjoyed being alongside us. If there was ever a time we could have used his professional services, it was there in the dark hospital. I probably wouldn’t have even had to fire a shot.

Around a corner to the left we went and nearly collided with another handful of infected. Judging by the clothing, most of the people trapped inside were patients, people who had come to the hospital out of fear, or perhaps had brought in a loved one after they’d fallen into a coma. But mixed into the small groups were also hospital staff. Nurses in blue scrubs. Doctors in white coats. We dispatched all manner of individuals without hesitation as we moved briskly down the hall. With the doors to most of the exam rooms closed, it was easy to avoid being overwhelmed or attacked from behind, and the wide corridors gave us plenty of space to walk side by side, rifles pressed up against our shoulders, flashlights surveying the field in front of us.

We slipped through a crowded waiting room, disposing of a dozen zombies, and then entered another long wing to the right. Before moving on, we all stopped to reload.

“How much farther?” Jenson whispered, snapping a fresh magazine into his rifle.

“Not far,” Dr. Bailey replied, hunched down beside us. “We’re almost there.”

I wiped another heaping of warm salty sweat from my face and pointed my light down the hall. Another dozen infected, moaning with delight by the sight of something to eat, began converging upon our position. Loaded up and ready to go, we leapt back into action, giving our trigger fingers a solid workout. A few of the infected we had to put down were children, which was never an easy thing to do. Nothing in the world felt more wrong than pointing a gun at a child and pulling the trigger. But I’d learned weeks ago that doing so was the most humane thing I could do for them.

Killing our way down the halls also made me think of the last time I’d been in a hospital, back in Florida, and how different things had been then. That day there was just as many people, only they hadn’t yet woken from their comas. They had lain peacefully on the floors. I remembered thinking how sad a sight it was because without help all those people in comas would eventually die. Little did I know at the time a worse fate than death awaited them.

Dr. Bailey guided us around another corner to the left. With each turn we took, the packs of undead seemed to grow in number, and it suddenly became obvious to me why. Not only are pharmacy waiting rooms often the most crowded in hospitals, but the particular pharmacy we were after was located on the west end. Upon waking, the infected had instinctively gone west searching for a way out, finding only locked doors. The loss of power, and the darkness that followed it, also surely played a key role in helping to keep them contained.

“It’s up here,” Dr. Bailey said, sneaking in his words between the loud cracking of gunfire.

We jogged forward and shined our gun lights into a large open room. Packed in among the many rows of seating was a large gathering of dead souls—fifty or more. We all stopped in place as they turned to acknowledge us. Other than how in the hell we were going to deal with all of them, all I could think about was the smell. It could only be described as indescribable. Over the weeks, I’d gotten used to breathing out of my mouth at times to avoid the ghastly smell of the rotting dead. But there in the hospital, closed in with no fresh breeze to blow by and save us, the smell was putrid beyond anything imaginable. The infected had literally cooked for weeks in the hot air, and no area was worse than the pharmacy waiting room. I had to gasp for quick breaths to avoid coughing up vomit.

“Hurry…this way,” Dr. Bailey said, and ran over to a door at the entrance to the pharmacy. To the right of the door were five serving stations that ran almost the entire length of the room. The shutter to each station was down.

We followed the doctor into the pharmacy. Zoe was the last one in, slamming the door closed behind us.

“I hope there’s another way out,” she said.

“Yes. There’s a rear entrance,” Dr. Bailey replied. “Someone give me a flashlight.”

Zoe removed the gun light from her rifle’s front accessory rail and handed it over. Dr. Bailey hurried off to search the aisles for the right medication.

Had there not been a choir of fifty plus moaning outside the door, we might have been more cognizant of the one inside the pharmacy with us. But we dropped our guard, thought we had a chance to take a breath, and the reminder I needed of how good we all had it at the school came only a few seconds later.

Ray’s voice bursted through the radio’s speaker.
“Just checking in. How’s it going?”

Ray had impeccable timing.

Standing toward the back looking for the second door, Jenson turned and reached for the radio on his vest to respond, when the beam from my gun light fell upon something lurking in the shadows just behind him.

Zoe saw it too and yelled, “Watch out!”

Before the warning could even register in Jenson’s brain, the zombie woman behind him already had her arms wrapped over his chest and was coming down to bite. Zoe and I raised our rifles and pointed them toward Jenson. Having given her flashlight to the doctor, Zoe would have to rely on the light from my gun to get a good shot.

But neither of us were fast enough.

Nor was Jenson.

He tried to squirm away, but the infected woman had a good hold on him, and after a minor struggle, clamped her jaw onto the thick meat of his neck. Jenson screamed as she bit down hard, causing a stream of blood to seep out from between her teeth. The two of them went to the ground a moment later where Jenson was finally able to push her off. Zoe and I ran over ready to start blasting, but it was Dr. Bailey coming from the other side who had the best angle of attack. The doctor pointed his small pistol down at the infected woman and emptied most of the magazine in her before she stopped moving.

“What happened?” Dr. Bailey asked.

Jenson groaned, holding his wounded neck, and slid down to the floor. “That fucking thing bit me.”

Taking no chances, I checked the other short aisles in the pharmacy to make sure there were no more zombies waiting in the wings to jump us. Satisfied the woman was the only one, I ran back to the others hunched down on opposite sides of Jenson.

“Let me see it,” Dr. Bailey said, trying to get Jenson to remove his hands. “We need to stop the bleeding.”

No we didn’t. As bad as it would sound to say, him bleeding out would get this nightmare over with sooner. For us, who still had a shot to survive. And most importantly, for him, who did not.

“Go find that medicine, doc,” I said.

“It can wait a minute.”

“No, it can’t wait.”

“Just go!” Jenson shouted. The doctor instantly backed off. “Get the medicine for Craig.”

“What about you?”

“You can’t help me,” Jenson said. “Help who you can…while you can. Please go.”

Zoe and I stayed by Jenson’s side while Dr. Bailey went off, flashlight in hand, to fill his backpack full of whatever medications we needed.

Ten minutes later he returned, pleased with his selections. “We’re good,” he said. “I got everything.”

Jenson, breathing slowly, was approaching the end of the line. His eyes would occasionally roll back into his head. Zoe kept him talking for a while, tried to gently shake him awake to keep him from fading, but it would only work for a short time. She knew that, but the need to not let go was too strong to resist.

A few minutes later, Jenson stopped breathing.

Zoe and I both stood up, looked at each other. “You want me to do it?” I asked. “You knew him better than I did.”

She shook her head and somberly said, “No. I’ll do it.”

I walked away, not wanting to watch. Dr. Bailey joined me in silent retreat.

A long, melancholy moment passed, and then…

Bang!