you?” I asked.
“No.” Fred said, “We use their rotting guts as camouflage.”
I needed a moment to process what he said. I was not convinced that we could camouflage ourselves and walk undetected through thousands of the undead. Something was bound to go wrong.
“We should at least try.” Fred pleaded.
Concern for the safety of his missing daughter was propelling him and it was written all over his face. A concerned and desperate father would do almost anything and risk his life for his child. I was worried that he was making rushed decisions which could end up killing someone.
“Have you thought this through?” I asked, “How do you want to do this?”
“The babies on the first floor.” Fred said, “We gut them and rub their entrails over ourselves. The stench will camouflage us. It should work.”
I was not too sure whether his plan would work; there was a fifty fifty chance of it working which was probably better than nothing. If we were to get out of there, we would need a vehicle to move Alex.
“Okay.” I said, “Let’s give it a shot.”
18
The sound of thousands of the undead gathering outside the hospital echoed through the night air. As Fred and I made our way up the stairs, I kept glancing back over my shoulders expecting the front doors to give way and the dead to pour in. The doors were seemingly stronger than I expected glass doors to be.
The stairwell was as dark as the night outside and we felt our way along the wall. The first floor was twilit by the moon shining in through the broken window at the end of the hallway. I stared at the incubation room a few feet away; the door was closed. I could not tell whether there were any dead babies left except the one with the broken neck lying at the end of the hallway.
I cautiously stepped closer to the door to the incubation room and knocked.
“Hello?” I asked while pushing opened the door.
The room seemed abandoned, no dead babies in sight. Perhaps we killed them all? I closed the door and turned to Fred who was already crouching down next to the dead baby with the broken neck.
“I think this is the only one left.” I said.
“It will have to do.” Fred said.
I noticed the tag on its little arm. It used to be someone’s pride and joy and could possibly have been someone’s first born. Did its father and mother even get to see its face before the infection spread?
“What’s its name?” I asked.
“Does it matter?” Fred asked.
“To me it does.” I said.
Fred sighed and glanced at the tag.
“Baby Philips.” Fred said.
Baby Philips… It did not even have a proper name yet. It was incredibly sad that the world could end your life before you even had a proper name.
“Are you getting cold feet?” Fred asked annoyed.
“No.” I said, “Let’s do this.”
Something just felt out of place. Perhaps it was the gruesomeness of what we were about to do, perhaps it was something else. I just had the strangest feeling that we were in danger. How many babies were there? I remember three or four jumping Calvin, one jumped onto Derrick and he fell out of the window, and I think two jumped onto Garth…. What happened to Garth? His body was not in the hallway.
“Wait.” I whispered.
“What?” Fred asked.
“What happened to Garth’s body?”
Fred stood up and searched the hallway. He was just as mystified about Garth’s body. If there was no body it meant that Garth was undead and roaming the hospital. He could be anywhere.
“We have to find him and put him down.” I said.
“What about the plan?” Fred asked.
“We’re still doing the plan.” I said, “But we’re killing Garth first. Leave the baby for now.”
The sound of an iron rod falling over echoed all around. I turned around and stared down the corridor of doors. It could be Garth. He could be in one of the rooms. The only room he could possibly be in was room 1308… the room of the comatose patient. He would be the perfect meal since he could not run away.
“This way.” I whispered.
Fred and I walked down the hallway towards room 1308 which was about fifteen doors down. I unhooked the hatchet from my belt – not that I really needed a weapon to kill one zombie, but it just looked cool.
I reached out towards the door of room 1308 and could hear munching sounds coming from inside. We were definitely at the right room and I pushed open the door. Garth stood towering over the coma patient and was eating intestines from a large gaping wound in the patient’s stomach. Garth looked up with guts hanging from his mouth as we entered. He gave one last chew and dropped the guts. He growled and stepped out from behind the bed. I could tell that though he was a mindless killer, he was thinking about how easily he could kill us, but what he did not know was that I already planned how I would kill him.
With a loud growl Garth lashed towards us with outstretched arms. With a quick flick of my hands, I chopped off his right arm just above the elbow as I flung him up against the wall. Garth regained his footing, glanced at the severed limb and then turned around.
I picked up the severed arm by the wrist and glimpsed at the exposed bone. Garth roared and propelled himself towards me. I used the severed arm like a spear; stuck it into his mouth and impaled him on his own arm. He gurgled a second or two as he chomped down on the arm in his mouth and then his lifeless corpse fell to the floor.
I looked over at Fred who was a bit shocked at the brutality of it all and winked at him. How could he be shocked when he wanted to gut a baby?
“What about the victim?” Fred asked.
I walked over to the bed and stared down at the patient. Most of his intestines were missing. He slowly opened his eyes and groaned. I grabbed him by the hair, bashed my fist into his neck severing it and tore the head free. I stared at the head as its eyes closed and then dropped into the gaping abdomen hole.
“He won’t be bothering us.” I said.
“You killed both of them without hesitating.” Fred said shocked.
“They were already dead.” I said.
“I know,” Fred said, “but it was as if you knew exactly what to do.”
“It’s a gift.” I said, “And if you hesitate, you will get yourself killed.”
We stood in a hospital room with two corpses to choose from.
“Take your pick.” I told Fred.
Fred looked at the two corpses like a child trying to decide between two sets of candy. I rolled my eyes, grabbed the head out of the torso and tossed it over at Fred. He ducked out of the way and the head splatted against the wall. The head landed on its side and the teeth chomped at nothing hoping to bite something nearby.
“What the hell?” Fred asked.
“Let’s use this one.” I said, “Its torso is already ripped open.”
Fred joined me in front of the hospital bed and we both stared down at the gory hole of intestines. Blood still oozed out of the wound and bubbled as the last of the oxygen left the blood. Fred gagged a bit at the sight, but retained himself.
“It’s the most horrid thing I have ever seen.” Fred said.
“Then you clearly haven’t seen my mother’s casserole.” I joked.
I stared at the gaping wound and was fascinated by the organs that remained. I always loved biology and how the body worked. The human body was God’s greatest creation and yet the only creature created by Him that chose to kill its own kind – even before the infection.
“I find it quite fascinating.” I said in a daze, “All these organs working in synchronicity to create the greatest machine ever.”
“And now most of them are killing machines.” Fred said aptly.
I snapped out of my dazed state and looked up at Fred. He was a bit flustered and pale in his face; he was the one that came up with the plan, but now he was the one who seemed unable to go through with it.
“So what do we
do?” Fred asked.
I stared at him with a raised eyebrow and asked perplexed, “Wasn’t this your suggestion?”
“I know.” Fred said nervously, “But… I’ve never seen a dead corpse before.”
I rolled my eyes and said, “The word corpse entails that the person is dead. It’s just corpse, not dead corpse. It’s like saying wet water.”
“Well,” Fred said, “I have to be specific nowadays. The dead don’t stay dead.”
Okay, he had me there.
“That’s why we call the undead corpses the undead.” I said, “Or zombies.”
“I don’t like either of those terms.” Fred said, “Zombies are slow and unable to think in the movies. These things are not like the zombies in the movies… You know what I mean?”
I nodded. I knew exactly what he meant. Clairvius was not your typical zombie (or walking corpse if you like). Nothing portrayed in the movies could ever prepare anyone for Clairvius. He was something else and I was pretty sure he was behind the infection.
“Yeah.” I said affirming his statement, “Call them what you want, but they are evil bastards.”
I stuck my hand into the gaping hole while Fred looked away. The goo, blood and organs made little farting noises as air dispersed. The guts were still warm to the touch. I looked over at Fred and giggled a bit as he tried not to gag. I squished some organs together into a soggy goo pâté and rubbed it onto Fred’s neck.
“I think I am going to throw up.” Fred moaned and gagged.
“Stand still.” I insisted, “It’s not that bad.”
“The stench is horrible.” Fred said.
I grabbed another handful of organ goo and rubbed it into his hair. He let out a whimper and started to prance in one spot.
“It’s running down my back.” Fred moaned like a little girl.
“Good.” I said, “Then I do not have to put some on your back.”
Fred regurgitated and swallowed; and from the sounds of it he was quite close to throwing up.
“Are you alright?” I asked.
Fred gagged, gulped and then said, “I’m fine.”
As he shook his head, more goo ran down his neck and down his back.
“Oh crap.” Fred said.
He launched himself forward and vomit exploded from his mouth. He coughed out the last bit of vomit, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and turned to me.
“Are you done?” I asked.
Fred nodded and said, “I think so.”
“Good.” I said.
I could see he was not done and was still feeling queasy; and I felt like seeing if I could make him vomit again.
“Now,” I said, “It’s your turn to stick your hand into the warm guts and spread it over me.”
Needless to say, he threw up again.
19
Though there was a full moon out, the world still seemed as dark as the shadows of the underworld. Without light, anyone trapped outside had no hope of surviving. Without hope, one loses the will to survive and without a will to survive… well, you get the picture.
Fred and I stood in the reception area of the hospital; both of us were covered in blood and guts – except for my hair. I gave Fred strict orders never to mess with my hair or I would feed him to the undead myself.
“What is it with your hair?” Fred asked annoyed.
“I love it and I hate it.” I said, “It’s a curse.”
The undead were still gathered outside the glass doors, but none of them clawed or banged against the glass. They all just lingered restlessly and moaned every once in a while.
“I hope your idea works.” Fred said.
“What?” I gasped, “This was your idea, remember?”
“Oh.” Fred said in thought, “Right…”
I shook my head and motioned for him to follow me to the door. As I remember it, I was pretty nervous as we approached the glass panel doors. There was only one way to know whether the plan would work; and if it didn’t we were royally screwed.
We unstacked the barricade and then I reached for the door handle, but paused.
I took a deep breath and said, “Here we go.”
I opened the door and expected the dead to flood in like cockroaches fleeing from light, but