The Left Series (Book 5): Left On The Run (16 page)

Smith’s eyes flicked downward to the floor. He stayed in position for a few seconds, allowing his words to sink into my sleep addled brain. Grim realization filtered its way through my mind and I felt a lump rise in my dry throat. Smith sighed, ruffled my hair and stood up. He turned and made his way back to the counter, leaving me with an ebbing sense of sadness.

Memories of my intimate and beautiful moments alone with Cordoba flooded my thoughts. Those cozy nights at the Glenross Hotel, cuddled up together under a duvet when the horrors of the apocalyptic world outside didn’t seem to matter, would never be repeated. I knew we’d grown apart in the last few weeks but those reminiscences of our time together would always be special.

I felt tears well in my eyes as I gazed around the café. Wingate and Yadav stood at the counter drinking water while talking quietly to Batfish. Both medics looked downhearted and totally shattered. I didn’t know how long I’d been asleep but it was obviously still day time because of the light shining through the windows outside the café.

Sighing deeply as I hauled myself to my feet, I realized I had another name to add to my ever growing list of fatally wounded acquaintances. I slowly made my way to the counter on shaky legs. I needed water, although something stronger wouldn’t have gone amiss.

Wingate and Batfish gazed at me with sadness in their eyes. I took a bottle of water from the countertop and sipped it down.

“We did all we could, Brett,” Wingate sighed. “I’m so sorry we couldn’t save her.” Her voice cracked and I knew she was close to tears. I knew I had to be strong for all of us.

“I know you did your best, Sarah,” I said, trying not to let my own voice tremor.

Wingate sniffed and grabbed hold of me in a tight hug. Batfish also wrapped her arms around us both and I felt their bodies convulsing in contained sobs. I wanted to break free and scream at the world. I wanted to run outside into the snow and yell obscenities at everybody I saw, living or dead. I felt angry and wanted to rip somebody’s face off. I felt sad and wanted to collapse to the ground in a tearful heap. I did none of those things. I just allowed Wingate and Batfish to hug me and vent their sorrow.

“Why do bad things always happen to us?” Batfish croaked in muffled sobs.

“I don’t know,” I muttered. “I just don’t know.”

After several long minutes, Wingate was the first to break from the huddle. She breathed heavily and wiped tears from her cheeks. Batfish sniffed and wiped her eyes with the backs of her hands.

“Do you want to go see her?” Wingate asked me.

I shook my head. I’d seen enough dead bodies to last me several lifetimes.

“I’ve still got her up here,” I whispered, pointing to my head. “She’s always alive in my mind.”

Wingate nodded and turned away. I guessed she was trying to compose herself. Batfish took a few deep breaths and walked slowly out of the café and out into the corridor. Wingate followed her out.

Smith waved a pack of smokes under my nose. “Rough day, huh?”

I nodded and took one of Smith’s cigarettes. “It sure is. Can’t remember one as bad as this for a while. Losing two people in one day, geez, that’s really something. Nearly as bad as Manhattan.”

Smith nodded and waved his lighter in front of me. I leaned forward and lit the cigarette. Yadav coughed disapprovingly and took a couple of backward paces out of range of the smoke.

“Yeah, Manhattan was a bitch,” Smith agreed.

“Every place we go, it’s always the same, Smith,” I sighed, while exhaling smoke. “I wish there was someplace we could go where there are no more zombies, no more killing, no more losing people unnecessarily who are close to us. Cordoba was twenty-eight years old, for Christ’s sake. That’s no age to die.”

“Yup, you’re right about that, kid,” Smith said. “That’s why we need to plan our next move with extreme caution. No more rash decisions.”

I thought about my recent dream. “We need to find an island someplace. Somewhere uninhabited.”

Smith sighed. “There are plenty of islands on the north and west coasts of here. Some with little or no inhabitants but we’d struggle to survive on our own out there. This is a cold, harsh climate, kid and the world is now a cruel dark place. We’d starve or freeze to death within two weeks tops.”

“It was my fault we came to Scotland,” I groaned. “I was too quick to believe it was some kind of utopia.”

“You weren’t the only one, kid,” Smith said. “We were all kind of hoping more than thinking clearly.”

“You are all welcome to stay right here,” Yadav butted in enthusiastically. “I have plenty of provisions and food.” He gestured at the stacks of tins on the countertop. “This is only a small proportion of what is kept here. The rest of the supplies are kept in the storerooms in the basements below us. There is hot running water in the showers, provided by a backup generator and we have all the medicine we need if any of us get sick. As you know, this ward is secure but if you want to move around the rest of the hospital, I’m sure you will find a way to get through the infected with all you guns.” He shuffled on his feet and offered us a near smile as though he was trying to sell us a car. “And last but not least, there are plenty of comfortable beds to sleep in.”

I had to admit, I wasn’t overly enthusiastic about spending the rest of my days imprisoned inside a gloomy hospital. The place was hardly the utopia I had hoped for but it did seem secure with plenty of food and bathroom facilities. I was sick and tired of taking a dump outside in the cold with my pants around my ankles. I took a deep breath and glanced at Smith, waiting for him to give Yadav an answer.

“Why are you so desperate for us to stay?” Smith snapped. “What’s your angle? You have the hots for Wingate or Batfish or maybe for me or Wilde? Because if that’s your thing, you’re making a big mistake, pal.”

Yadav took a couple of backward steps, holding up his hands in a surrendering motion. His face crumpled and he looked absolutely terrified. “No, no, nothing like that,” he stammered. “I could just use the company, you know? Being here in this building all alone is a terrible experience but I can’t leave. I can’t go out there.” He pointed toward the corridor. “I would be torn to pieces by the infected or murdered by the gangs of thugs who roam the streets. Like you, I am far away from my homeland. I am just a simple doctor from Delhi. I am no soldier. I don’t even know how to use a gun. The only way I can terminate the infected is by injecting them in the brain with a lethal dose. I am so frightened all the time.” His voice became increasingly high pitched and panic stricken with every sentence.

“Okay, okay, enough,” Smith barked, waving his hand in a downward motion. “Just shut the fuck up, already. Geez, you’re giving me a headache with all that babbling.”

Yadav nodded but I noticed he was shaking. I began to feel a little sorry for the guy. He’d probably been through the mill, the same as us.

“Let me just say, I am deeply sorry about the loss of your two friends,” Yadav said quietly.

“Look, we’ll give it a few days and see how we go from there,” Smith said. “Like a trial run.”

Yadav couldn’t contain his joy. His face broke into a broad smile and he clapped his hands together. “That’s very good news,” he said. “I know you won’t regret staying here.”

“That’s funny, I’ve heard that line before and I generally have,” Smith muttered. “Now, lead me to those showers you were talking about.”

Yadav grinned and gestured to the café entranceway. “This way, if you please.”

I watched Smith and the Asian doctor walk out of the café and heard them talk to Batfish and Wingate in the corridor, obviously explaining our plans for our temporary accommodation. I didn’t hear raised voices or anything in the way of complaints so I assumed we were sorted, for a few days at least.

Batfish and Wingate used the showers when Smith had finished up. They took Spot with them and gave him a good soaping as well. The little guy looked decidedly pleased with himself when he returned, shaking off the excess water all over me and wagging his tail ready for another feed. Yadav took Smith on a guided tour of the secure wards and I knew Smith wanted to check for himself the perimeters and locked doors to the staircases and other areas of the hospital before we rested up.

I took a long shower myself, reveling in the hot water and lemon scented shower soap that somebody had kindly left in the cubicle. Then I settled down with a cold steak and kidney pie in the café. The light faded and I was in near darkness by the time I’d finished my meal.

We sat in a portable, LED lit TV lounge for a while. Obviously without the luxury of a working television set. The lounge was situated in the center of the ICU so we didn’t have to worry about zombies breaking through the high windows from outside.

Yadav talked at length about his plight in the hospital and how he’d endured the first few days of the apocalypse. He said that most of the hospital staff hadn’t survived beyond the first few days of the outbreak. The small band of survivors had freed up as much space as they could inside the hospital and locked themselves in. I watched him talk and remembered Rosenberg, a junior doctor, who had traveled with us from Brynston to Manhattan. Rosenberg sacrificed himself on a Manhattan street so I could escape. Another good person who bit the dust too soon.

“How come you have a backup generator for hot water but not for power in the unit?” Wingate asked.

Yadav shrugged and sighed. “The backup generator for the electricity power is located in another section of the unit. I’m afraid I haven’t been able to reach the generator to turn it on. Besides, I thought if I turned on the lights, it would only attract more attention from the outside world. The generator we have working powers the water and heating and also the incinerator down below us in the basement.”

The others continued talking quietly amongst themselves but I kind of zoned out. I tried desperately not to think about Cordoba or Jimmy but I kept seeing their faces in my mind. I knew with time, their images would fade but it still felt kind of raw.

Wingate and Batfish decided to share a room for the first night and I would have gladly bunked alongside Smith but he wanted his own room and I didn’t want to appear to be some kind of sissy. I took Spot into my room to keep me company and try to help ward off the demons that haunted my dreams during the night.

The whole hospital ward beyond the ICU unit was constructed in a series of decreasing square blocks, with the TV lounge in the center. We all took rooms inside the inner sections to avoid the areas with windows to the outside. It was highly unlikely that the undead could reach the windows, positioned high in the outer walls but wouldn’t be such a problem for a surviving rogue gang armed with a hammer and a step ladder.

The hospital room was basic. The interior consisted of one single bed, a sink with a mirror above and a small built in closet. We’d left our backpacks back inside the Range Rover so I didn’t have any spare clothing or equipment to store in the closet. I guessed there was no great hurry to retrieve our rucksacks, I could hand wash the clothes I wore in the showers over the next few days.

Fatigue took hold of my body again and I must have slept peacefully for a couple of hours. Then the nightmares came again. I flitted in and out of consciousness. Faces of the dead leered at me from dark places in my mind and at times, I didn’t know if I was awake or asleep. Ghosts swirled around the hospital room, laughing and shrieking as they circled around my bed. My other self also appeared, looking like a fully pledged member of the undead. He sat on my bed and talked nonsensical words, almost as though he was talking in a language only he understood. Of course, the image of Cordoba appeared at some stage, so too a screaming Jimmy. The moment my hand brushed against his jacket, trying to hold him back repeated itself several times over. I sweated, cried, pulled the duvet over my head and thrashed around for the best part of the night.

Chapter Twenty-Six

I was up and out of bed before the dawn broke, showering and eating a can of apricot crumble before anybody else stirred. The light provided by my flashlight cast eerie shadows around the café and I was glad to at least have Spot for company. The little dog seemed to enjoy a tin of corned beef for his breakfast, followed by another bowl full of water.

I didn’t know how long I sat at that table. It could have been thirty minutes; it could have been a couple of hours. I sat and thought but I wasn’t thinking constructively, I was simply letting the past events of my recent life roll through my mind in a series of moving images, almost like a playback on a computer hard drive. And I just sat there watching.

The inner mind movie automatically hit the pause button when Batfish and Wingate walked into the café. I hadn’t noticed dawn’s daylight had already lit up the front half of the room, with the sunlight streaking across the countertop. Batfish and Wingate both performed a double take and almost recoiled when they spotted me sitting at a table on my own. Spot ran to them, wagging his tail in greeting.

“Brett…you okay?” Batfish asked.

I nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay. Just didn’t sleep too well is all. New place, strange comfy bed. Not used to it I suppose.” I attempted a half smile and a slight laugh.