Rise & Walk (Book 2): Pathogen (3 page)

“We have to call the cops!”  She trembled.  Andy hit the elevator call button rapidly.

Denise looked at Andy with a pale and drawn expression.  A gunshot blasted from the emergency room and with it, a figure propelled into the hallway.  It was Doctor Osteen, his white lab coat now stained with thick arterial blood, a small hole torn in the fabric just above his heart.  His throat was torn out and now appeared a mass of ragged wet tissue like an old bloody mop.  Denise screamed, her coffee cup flying out of her hands.  The doctor craned his neck in her direction, blood oozing down as if his wound were a sponge being slowly wrung out.  His lifeless eyes seemed to lock onto Denise with some evil recognition.  The doctor fell forward and started towards her.  Denise screamed once more. Andy pulled her aside as a security guard bounded around the corner after the erstwhile Doctor Osteen.  The bloody ghoul raised his hands towards Denise just as the elevator doors opened.  The security guard launched himself onto the Doctor’s back, sending the two into the open elevator.  The guard’s pistol tumbled to the elevator’s floor with a metallic thud.  The two men struggled inside in a frenzied and panicked brawl while the doors closed.  Andy let go of Denise as the elevator car appeared to ascend; the sounds of close quarters conflict rising with it.

“What the hell was that?” Denise shouted at Andy, her eyes mad with shock.

Something in the waiting area heard her, grunted, and started to move towards them.  Andy took her by the arm.  They both began to run leaving behind them the sound of more gunshots, firing faster and faster, over blood chilling screams.

One

Tony Sanchez felt as if his head were about to split open and erupt his swollen brains into a hot puddle at his feet.  He’d heard of migraines but never understood just how bad a non-hangover related headache could get until now.  The sun had just retreated from view and the cool evening should have provided some relief.  Yet the pressure behind his bloodshot eyes only seemed to increase.  Leaning his exhausted body against a tree in an instinct for cover, he spied the town below through a pair of binoculars.  Straining to examine the compressed view of Whisper brought a queasy vertigo that only made him feel worse.  He tried to tell himself that the stress of fighting the walking dead along with a lack of sleep and proper nutrition were behind his discomfort.  He didn’t dare admit the main reason for his migraine; the fact that he hadn’t had a cigarette for two days.  The fighting and fear had kept his adrenalin up over the past thirty-six hours but now, in the relative safety overlooking the town, his mind yearned for nicotine.  The smoldering afterglow of battle left him craving a smoke and his only defense was denial.  With the binoculars he noticed a figure wandering slowly through the lonely streets and forced his addiction to the distant corners of his mind.  The figure below moved in a peculiar jerky manner that was unmistakable; it was one of them, a risen corpse.

The distance was great but Tony could see the formerly living thing limping along almost confused, like a wayward child seeking lost parents but in surreal slow motion.  The directionless beast was clad in a heavy fireman’s coat.  Focusing tighter with the binoculars, Tony noticed other shapes moving in the distance, suggesting that the ghoul wasn’t alone.  Suddenly, the wretched thing stopped and stiffened its distorted form causing Tony’s muscles to tighten across his chest.  He saw the creature lift its head northward towards a group of buildings in the center of town.  The monster began to move as if driven by some renewed purpose, lurching faster and faster.  Its hellish craving was apparent to Tony, filling him with alarm. 
It must smell something good over there
, he thought.   Tony quickly forgot about cigarettes as a gentle breeze blew over him.

“Jeeze,” Tony mumbled.

He lowered the binoculars and took in the sight of the entire town.  He stood approximately two miles from the perimeter of Whisper, as the crow flies.  Whisper was a small town; home to some seven-thousand souls.  To the west, dominating the valley was a large industrial plant, the Richardson Ammunition factory.  Its sprawling acreage housed several large manufacturing buildings, a train yard, smaller office structures, and storage silos.  Sprinkled on the outskirts of the high fenced compound were various blast-resistant bunkers fed by roads where Tony assumed that every sort of firearm ammunition would be stored.  The world had been thrown into chaos in the past twenty-four hours and Tony knew that if he and his friends were going to survive they would need to get their hands on some ammunition. 

The situation was impossible yet Tony took solace from the presence of his best friend Jack Mason.  Their friendship began some twenty-five years ago in Kindergarten.  A mutual love of adventure films, martial arts, and homemade weaponry filled the days of their youth.  As a kid, Tony looked up to Mason and envied his martial arts ability.  The boys grew up studying post apocalyptic films and pulp-novels; media that Tony’s parents never approved of.  Tony spent most of his free time with Mason, playing army in the neighborhood creeks and fields with BB guns.  They took to training with Jack’s father’s boxing equipment, later taking classes in Karate and Kung Fu, and studying swordplay.  Fun became serious study for in the waning years of the Cold War, Mason began to fear that a nuclear exchange was inevitable.  They shared many harrowing adventures in their youth, luckily emerging somewhat unscathed.  Tony always felt that everything would be alright as long as Jack Mason was around.  After high school as childhood fears gave way to reason, Tony expanded his interests, working his way through college and trying to find his path but Mason scoffed at higher education and never waivered in his training.  In their adult years Mason put together a top-notch paintball team that competed nationally of which Tony was an original member; Team Blackjack.  But Tony had grown tired of paintball, and of sparring with Mason, tired of antiquated Kendo fencing sessions that seemed to have little use in the modern world.  This trip to Whisper had become the end of an inner debate for Tony who found himself resolved to leaving the team and taking on more grown-up pursuits, just before all hell broke lose.

They met the girls, Veronica and Nikki, at the paintball field just two days ago.  Joined together by terrible chance, they survived their first experience with the living dead through courage, cunning, and luck.  Once strangers, the girls had quickly become trusted allies.  Their escape over the mountain from what they all thought was an isolated incident turned to out to be just a respite from a much greater problem.  Tony realized that his headache appeared once they’d heard the news bulletins over the radio.  The dead were returning to life with a savage appetite for living flesh; not just here but across the globe.  If Tony hadn’t witnessed these events firsthand, hadn’t fought with the creatures, hadn’t smelled the ripe urine-tinged stink of their infection and escaped, he would’ve never believed the reports. The news covered more about the crisis but offered little information as to a possible cause, aside from the fact that it was related to a vast meteor shower that seemed to affect most of the planet.  People were warned to avoid contact with any such meteorites.  Tony and his three companions had just escaped what they thought were the jaws of hell, only to land in a much larger fire. The four survivors needed to regroup and come up with a plan for this new reality.

Jack had parked his truck on a hillcrest road so that they could observe the town and decide on a course of action.  The taller of the two women, Veronica had suffered an injury earlier at the hands of a coward during a fierce stand off with the undead.  Her wound had begun to seep through her bandages.  Even though her injury was from a less-than-lethal shotgun round and not from contact with the dead, she had expressed her desire to change the dressings.  The undead were spreading from some sort of infection and precautions had to be taken.

Tony walked to the back of the big Chevy to rejoin his friends.  Veronica sat on the open tailgate with her shirt pulled half-way up while Jack attended her.  Nikki, stood with her posture tense; arms drawn tightly across her chest, as if trying to hold in all the tragedy of the past couple days.  She made a few nervous nibbles at her thumbnail; quick bites that might go unnoticed.  Even in the dwindling light of the retreating sun, the shape of her silhouette and the subtle outline of her blonde hair caught Tony’s attention.  He couldn’t help but form a warm yet invisible smile for her that was hidden by the lessening light.  Jack rustled his way through a small canvas bag. 

“Do you have any more gauze?” Jack asked.

Tony reached in his pocket and pulled out a small rubber coated flashlight.  He put his hand over the lens and clicked the ON button twice.  A small thin halo of light formed on the skin of his palm. It switched from bright white to a dim red with the second click.  He pulled his hand away and directed the red lamp over the side of the truck into the bed.  Next to a tie-down strap that secured Jack’s motorcycle, was a small first aid kit.  Tony retrieved the kit and tossed it to the rear.

“One left” Tony said.

“Shine that over here” Jack said as he opened the plastic field dressing pouch.  Tony moved around the tailgate, closer to Nikki.  He directed the light onto Veronica’s left side.  As Jack carefully pulled the dressing free it became apparent that it had absorbed a considerable amount of fluid.  Veronica’s jaw tightened as she let out a small strained moan.  Her skin stretched away from her body and snapped back as the bandages came free. The wound was four inches in diameter from just above her hip.  Tony’s red flashlight distorted the several shades of bruising and reflective sheen of puss but there could be no doubt that this was a very painful injury.

Veronica took a deep breath and then three more small huffs as the waves of abdominal pain subsided.  She looked up at Jack.

“Wait,” She pleaded.

Jack nodded.  Veronica looked like she was going to be alright but he certainly understood her agony.  He liked Veronica and found it uncomfortable to see her this way.  Jack wondered if she could have any internal injuries.

“What does your medical training tell you about this?  Is it worse than it looks?” He asked.

“I think it’s gonna be okay” She whispered, “But if I pee blood, I’m in trouble.” 

“Yeah, nobody likes that.” He said.  She managed a weak smile.  Jack searched for something that might provide her some relief.  He found several packages of painkillers in the first aid kit.

“Aspirin or Ibuprofen?” offered Jack.

Veronica hesitated a moment and answered.

“Ibuprofen; four.  Aspirin will thin my blood too much.” she said with a pained exhale.  Veronica felt like she had been shot in the stomach, which in fact, she had.  Luck was on her side as the shotgun blast that she had endured just hours ago, was not steel or lead shot, but rock salt; a less-than-lethal shell used to frighten and annoy.  Her injury felt like hell and was becoming stiffer by the minute.  Standing was difficult and moving around sent wincing pain throughout her body.  Jack handed her four large pills which she quickly swallowed with some water from his canteen. 

“All we have is rubbing alcohol.” Jack apologized as he held up a small plastic bottle from the kit.  Veronica exchanged the canteen for the less than ideal antiseptic.

“Let me.” Veronica said holding the alcohol.  She looked towards Jack and took a few deep breaths to steel herself.  When she was ready, Veronica made one smooth motion with her arm and poured half of the bottle over her wound.  She made a loud hissing sound as she inhaled in reaction to the searing pain.  Her side blazed as the alcohol washed over her exposed nerve endings.  She gripped Jack’s arm and waited. Once the shock had settled all that was left was the persistent deep itch of a soft mountain breeze rippling over her hypersensitive wound. Jack approached to wrap her with the field dressing.

“No,” Veronica exhaled with her arm raised, “just wait.”

Wanting to change the subject, Jack made an observation. 

“Its kinda funny.  That punk who shot you, he couldn’t tell the difference between a salt-rock shell and a real one.”

Veronica waited and lifted her eyebrows while shaking her head, impatiently not seeing the connection.  Jack answered her confusion.

“He ran the ammunition plant. You’d think he’d know better.”

Breathing heavy, Veronica tried to smile.

“Here’s to ignorance” she mocked.

For a moment, Veronica saw Lance in her mind.  She remembered yelling at Nikki to shoot. She recalled his angry smile as he laughed and then the small bloody hole where Nikki’s bullet found him; his legs buckling as if suddenly rendered useless.  She watched him fall, once again, into the arms of ravenous ghouls.  The image was foggy, surreal, somewhere between memory and dream. Veronica pictured his skin catch on the sharp edges of broken wood as he was dragged roughly out of the shack. Her mind conjured an image of his body extruding through the wall like sausage from a horn. 
Why didn’t he put up more of a fight
? She thought.  Veronica now wondered if Lance wasn’t partially paralyzed from the gunshot.  Spinal damage could do such a thing.  She clenched her fist at the thought of being so helpless before those hungry things.  Veronica knew first hand how resilient the human body can be; the determination and strength within that can be brought to bear towards that one mortal cause, to stay alive.  What sort of hell did he endure in those last moments?   She wondered just how long it took for Lance to die; to give up the ghost under the tearing and ripping of undead jaws.

She put her head down and tried to force the image from her mind.

Tony put his flashlight on the tailgate and picked up the first-aid kit.  Freeing a packet from the kit, he put two aspirins in his mouth and swallowed with a swig from Jack’s canteen.  He didn’t know if the aspirins would help his headache but anything was worth a shot.  He looked at Nikki who appeared to have run out of fingernails to bite.  She dropped her arms and approached Tony with some haste.

“Can I see your binoculars?” She asked with an impatient tone.

“Sure” Tony handed her the field glasses.  She accepted them without thanks and moved quickly to the front of the truck.  Nikki’s emotions were not unnoticed by the party.  Veronica lifted her head towards Tony.

“Stay with her.” She suggested. 

Tony nodded.  He aimed the beam of his flashlight towards Veronica and left it sitting on the truck bed for their benefit. He turned to join Nikki, another urge for a cigarette nagged at his mind.

“She’s worried about her parents” Veronica said to Jack.

Jack nodded as he stretched the gauze dressing.  She raised her arms so that he could wrap her midsection with the long bandage.  His proximity made her feel strange.  He was only bandaging her wound, but somehow it felt intimate to receive his care.  The slight pressure of the wrap caused her to clench her teeth.  She tried to distract herself from the pain by watching him work.  She had only known this man for two days but she felt in her heart that she could trust Jack Mason.  As he moved his arms around her for another pass, Veronica spoke.