His eyes slid open. Well, mostly open. One was swollen shut, the other was blurry. He groaned and tried to lift his head up.
A unique and merciless pain tore through his left forearm. He didn’t need to look at it to know it was broken. Very slowly, he turned his head over to focus his one good eye. (Ha! “Good!”) His left wrist was handcuffed to the bedpost. Most of his clothes were still on at least. Only his shirt and shoes were missing.
He began to try and take inventory, without moving too much. Try as he might, he couldn’t recall what had happened. He had a brief image of a nurse – or a doctor? He had told her something. His brain felt mushy, druggy. The room was dark, with some light coming through the curtains. It sounded like someone next door was talking. Where the hell were his cuff keys?
Shit. Or his badge and gun, for that matter. This was very, very bad. He fumbled with his right hand in the right pocket of his slacks. He still had his keys. He let out a sharp breath.
Rolling over and gritting his teeth, he unlocked his ruined left arm. He could see it better now. His wrist was scored and bloody. Bruises ran along his arm. He followed them down visually and saw some very large bruises on his right side.
Well, that would explain the difficulty breathing. He decided they were probably cracked.
Trying to stay as straight as possible, he stood up. Dizzy, he wandered the room. No one else was here. There were no furnishings or pictures on the wall and the towels were a boring, cheap white.
He was in a short-stay apartment. Where? He walked out to the window and pulled the curtains aside, blinking at the bright light. And almost passed out.
The scene below looked like something out of Hollywood. Cars piled up all over the road. Bodies, blood everywhere. Fires off in the distance. And something even more horrifying: silence. No sirens, voices. No one moving. It was as if the apocalypse had happened, not as a wave or an event, but as an instant, all at once, everywhere.
He felt sick, suddenly. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he held his arm close to his side and tried to think! What had happened? Who was the doctor? She was asking him something… someone to call… he told her something she didn’t understand.
But before? Concentrating and rubbing his eyebrow he brought forth an image of a man. In a restaurant maybe? They had drinks but no food. The man seemed scared, frightened. He had given him his business card. Police detective. Cell phone number.
And that was all. The rest was just gone. He couldn’t even remember which precinct he worked at. He felt in his pockets. The phone was gone. At least his shirt was still here.
Something told him that man in the restaurant was the last person on earth he should have given his cell number too.
He found his shoes and fashioned a sling out of the hotel towels. It still hurt like hell, but it was better than nothing. Someone besides him had to be alive. He remembered the voice he heard next door.
Gingerly he opened the door to the corridor. Not a soul in sight. He saw a body, slumped down at the end of the hallway, obviously dead.
He walked to the next room and knocked. No answer. He waited, listening. He heard the sound this time, but it didn’t really sound like talking anymore… more like mumbling.
Something triggered in his mind. He walked down a bit further towards the body at the end of the hall and found a utility closet. It was locked, but very old. He took a step back and kicked it in with his left leg, trying to spare his right ribs. They hurt anyway and the effort knocked the wind out of him, but the door burst open. He switched on the light. Buckets, mops, brooms… and yes. A large, rusty, red pipe wrench. He picked it up and walked back to his neighbor. He tested the knob. It was unlocked.
He opened the door and looked inside. A older man, with white, wild-flying hair, was hunched over a woman’s body. Rocking back and forth, mumbling.
“Sir? … Sir? Are you alright?” The man didn’t move. He hefted the pipe wrench and took a couple steps closer. Nothing. He stepped closer, still asking the man if he was alright, what was his name?
The floorboard squeaked.
With a heart-stopping hiss, the man on the floor turned. The man’s eyes were glazed, lifeless. His face, especially the mouth, was covered in blood. It dripped from his teeth. In that nanosecond, he knew he had been very, very wrong.
The cannibal lunged for him, moving surprisingly quickly. He swung the wrench with a deadly force. It connected. The old man crumpled in a heap, by his feet, truly dead now. Just in case, he looked at the woman on the floor. She had long passed into another life. The sight of her brought tears to his eyes and he staggered to the hallway and wretched, sobbing, for a time.
He needed to keep moving. He needed his arm set. And he needed something better than a melee weapon if there were people this depraved about. He set his jaw and went out into the street. No living soul was around. He couldn’t remember his name, or his home… but the doctor in the hospital – that seemed accessible. Which way?
He couldn’t have given directions to another, but somehow, he knew which way was the right way. He headed off down the large boulevard, walking around cars and various wreckage, north.
Voices… coming from someplace. Her eyes didn’t want to open. Stale dust clogged her nose and throat. The voices seemed to raise in pitch, coming more frequently. She could make out some words now, as her mind began to focus.
“HERE! Over here, dammit! I think she’s under this girder!” “Do you think she’s still alive?” “Hell, I don’t know, but I wanna find out! MOVE.”
Light fractured through the opening they made and both faces peered down at her. She blinked up at them, both looked relieved to the point of tears.
“Dr. Ruscioli! Are you alright?” She coughed and forced air into her lungs. “Of course I’m not alright. Get this rubble off of me!”
Both men grinned at her and proceeded to peel the rubble apart. In a few moments they had most of it off.
“You are very lucky, Doc. These way this stuff landed almost made a tent around you. Are you hurt?” “I got a good whack on the head and a ripping migraine but I think I’m okay. What the hell is going on around here?” “Damned if I know. I think someone blew up the propane tank.” “WHAT??” “It’s good to see you, Doc.”
She groaned and stood up. “Okay, who’s in charge? Dr. Holfgoebber? Novogrod probably took charge, didn’t she? Is she driving you two nuts yet?”
Both men looked at her uncomfortably. Neither spoke.
George took a deep breath. He leveled his green eyes at her. He was taller than she by a head, but most of the time no one noticed. “Doc, there’s something else you need to know.”
She knew it was bad. George usually wasted no time arguing with her. She waited for him to continue.
“I think something happened, well before the propane tank. I think something is going on – some kind of virus, or chemical weapon, I don’t know. But it’s made people turn stark raving nuts. Every other faculty physician here is dead.”
She sat down on a nearby chair, with its back broken off. “So, random people came in to the hospital and killed them?”
“Doc…” tears filled the big man’s eyes, as if he could hardly believe the words he was going to say himself. “You don’t want to know.”
Jack, standing a bit behind George, stepped beside him and looked right at her. “They ate each other.”
She was glad she was sitting down. The two of them looked like they’d been through hell. George had some nasty gashes on his arms and both were covered in rubble dust. She tried to steady her vision and slow her heart rate down. Jack, a smaller man but no less strong, was carrying a pipe wrench so tight his whole hand looked white.
“Okay – we need to secure this building. If there’s a bunch of crazy mobs running around, we need to be able to control who gets in and out.”
Jack spoke this time. “I think that’s mostly covered due to the explosion. But I’d like to make double sure.” George nodded.
“Okay. Sounds good. I’m going to go downstairs to the supply room and see how bad it is. Meet you guys there?” They both nodded and trudged off for the stairwell.
His eyes slid open. Well, mostly open. One was swollen shut, the other was blurry. He groaned and tried to lift his head up.
ReplyDeleteA unique and merciless pain tore through his left forearm. He didn’t need to look at it to know it was broken. Very slowly, he turned his head over to focus his one good eye. (Ha! “Good!”) His left wrist was handcuffed to the bedpost. Most of his clothes were still on at least. Only his shirt and shoes were missing.
He began to try and take inventory, without moving too much. Try as he might, he couldn’t recall what had happened. He had a brief image of a nurse – or a doctor? He had told her something. His brain felt mushy, druggy. The room was dark, with some light coming through the curtains. It sounded like someone next door was talking. Where the hell were his cuff keys?
Shit. Or his badge and gun, for that matter. This was very, very bad. He fumbled with his right hand in the right pocket of his slacks. He still had his keys. He let out a sharp breath.
Rolling over and gritting his teeth, he unlocked his ruined left arm. He could see it better now. His wrist was scored and bloody. Bruises ran along his arm. He followed them down visually and saw some very large bruises on his right side.
Well, that would explain the difficulty breathing. He decided they were probably cracked.
Trying to stay as straight as possible, he stood up. Dizzy, he wandered the room. No one else was here. There were no furnishings or pictures on the wall and the towels were a boring, cheap white.
He was in a short-stay apartment. Where? He walked out to the window and pulled the curtains aside, blinking at the bright light. And almost passed out.
The scene below looked like something out of Hollywood. Cars piled up all over the road. Bodies, blood everywhere. Fires off in the distance. And something even more horrifying: silence. No sirens, voices. No one moving. It was as if the apocalypse had happened, not as a wave or an event, but as an instant, all at once, everywhere.
He felt sick, suddenly. Sitting on the edge of the bed, he held his arm close to his side and tried to think! What had happened? Who was the doctor? She was asking him something… someone to call… he told her something she didn’t understand.
But before? Concentrating and rubbing his eyebrow he brought forth an image of a man. In a restaurant maybe? They had drinks but no food. The man seemed scared, frightened. He had given him his business card. Police detective. Cell phone number.
And that was all. The rest was just gone. He couldn’t even remember which precinct he worked at. He felt in his pockets. The phone was gone. At least his shirt was still here.
Something told him that man in the restaurant was the last person on earth he should have given his cell number too.
He found his shoes and fashioned a sling out of the hotel towels. It still hurt like hell, but it was better than nothing. Someone besides him had to be alive.
ReplyDeleteHe remembered the voice he heard next door.
Gingerly he opened the door to the corridor. Not a soul in sight. He saw a body, slumped down at the end of the hallway, obviously dead.
He walked to the next room and knocked. No answer. He waited, listening. He heard the sound this time, but it didn’t really sound like talking anymore… more like mumbling.
Something triggered in his mind. He walked down a bit further towards the body at the end of the hall and found a utility closet. It was locked, but very old. He took a step back and kicked it in with his left leg, trying to spare his right ribs. They hurt anyway and the effort knocked the wind out of him, but the door burst open. He switched on the light. Buckets, mops, brooms… and yes. A large, rusty, red pipe wrench. He picked it up and walked back to his neighbor. He tested the knob. It was unlocked.
He opened the door and looked inside. A older man, with white, wild-flying hair, was hunched over a woman’s body. Rocking back and forth, mumbling.
“Sir? … Sir? Are you alright?” The man didn’t move. He hefted the pipe wrench and took a couple steps closer. Nothing. He stepped closer, still asking the man if he was alright, what was his name?
The floorboard squeaked.
With a heart-stopping hiss, the man on the floor turned. The man’s eyes were glazed, lifeless. His face, especially the mouth, was covered in blood. It dripped from his teeth. In that nanosecond, he knew he had been very, very wrong.
The cannibal lunged for him, moving surprisingly quickly. He swung the wrench with a deadly force. It connected. The old man crumpled in a heap, by his feet, truly dead now. Just in case, he looked at the woman on the floor. She had long passed into another life. The sight of her brought tears to his eyes and he staggered to the hallway and wretched, sobbing, for a time.
He needed to keep moving. He needed his arm set. And he needed something better than a melee weapon if there were people this depraved about. He set his jaw and went out into the street. No living soul was around. He couldn’t remember his name, or his home… but the doctor in the hospital – that seemed accessible. Which way?
He couldn’t have given directions to another, but somehow, he knew which way was the right way. He headed off down the large boulevard, walking around cars and various wreckage, north.
Someone else would be there. He just knew it.
I got like ... all excited while reading your story. Great read.
ReplyDeleteSteve
Day 2:
ReplyDeleteVoices… coming from someplace. Her eyes didn’t want to open. Stale dust clogged her nose and throat. The voices seemed to raise in pitch, coming more frequently. She could make out some words now, as her mind began to focus.
“HERE! Over here, dammit! I think she’s under this girder!”
“Do you think she’s still alive?”
“Hell, I don’t know, but I wanna find out! MOVE.”
Light fractured through the opening they made and both faces peered down at her. She blinked up at them, both looked relieved to the point of tears.
“Dr. Ruscioli! Are you alright?”
She coughed and forced air into her lungs. “Of course I’m not alright. Get this rubble off of me!”
Both men grinned at her and proceeded to peel the rubble apart. In a few moments they had most of it off.
“You are very lucky, Doc. These way this stuff landed almost made a tent around you. Are you hurt?”
“I got a good whack on the head and a ripping migraine but I think I’m okay. What the hell is going on around here?”
“Damned if I know. I think someone blew up the propane tank.”
“WHAT??”
“It’s good to see you, Doc.”
She groaned and stood up. “Okay, who’s in charge? Dr. Holfgoebber? Novogrod probably took charge, didn’t she? Is she driving you two nuts yet?”
Both men looked at her uncomfortably. Neither spoke.
George took a deep breath. He leveled his green eyes at her. He was taller than she by a head, but most of the time no one noticed. “Doc, there’s something else you need to know.”
She knew it was bad. George usually wasted no time arguing with her. She waited for him to continue.
“I think something happened, well before the propane tank. I think something is going on – some kind of virus, or chemical weapon, I don’t know. But it’s made people turn stark raving nuts. Every other faculty physician here is dead.”
She sat down on a nearby chair, with its back broken off. “So, random people came in to the hospital and killed them?”
“Doc…” tears filled the big man’s eyes, as if he could hardly believe the words he was going to say himself. “You don’t want to know.”
Jack, standing a bit behind George, stepped beside him and looked right at her. “They ate each other.”
She was glad she was sitting down. The two of them looked like they’d been through hell. George had some nasty gashes on his arms and both were covered in rubble dust. She tried to steady her vision and slow her heart rate down. Jack, a smaller man but no less strong, was carrying a pipe wrench so tight his whole hand looked white.
“Okay – we need to secure this building. If there’s a bunch of crazy mobs running around, we need to be able to control who gets in and out.”
Jack spoke this time. “I think that’s mostly covered due to the explosion. But I’d like to make double sure.” George nodded.
“Okay. Sounds good. I’m going to go downstairs to the supply room and see how bad it is. Meet you guys there?” They both nodded and trudged off for the stairwell.
“Long week” just didn’t begin to describe it.
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ReplyDelete