Hellspawn Odyssey (19 page)

“Gloria, get ready,” John said as the gap opened wide enough to allow them through.

“I will go first, stand back,” she answered and disengaged the gun’s safety. She sidestepped through, prepared for an attack. The room looked empty; however, with no other doors in the room it was obvious that the equipment had not moved itself to block the entrance. The end of a mattress could be seen projecting from the protective barrier as they moved further inside. The room filled with the others and the only place a living person could be hiding was behind the shield that the doctors would use to protect themselves from radiation.

“You, behind the counter, come out now. We won’t hurt you,” called Sarah and they waited. The faint sound of movement came from behind the panel and a blonde head peered out with fear.

“It’s ok, you can trust us,” Sam tried to coax her out and the sight of the family was enough to assuage the fear of the gun. Gloria raised it to the ceiling and reengaged the safety to show their harmless intent. The rest lowered their machetes and Kurt put his hammer into the waistband of his trousers.

“I’m Kurt. This is Sarah, Sam, Braiden, John, Jodi, and Gloria. The yellow wagging machine is Honey,” he said to the lady.

Honey couldn’t resist and ran behind the screen to lick the new lady. She took a couple of steps back at first and held up her hands, fearing she would be bitten. Nothing could have been further from the dog’s mind and she jumped up and lavished licks and kisses to the woman who immediately started laughing. Walking around to them, stroking the excited dog with one hand she held out her other and shook theirs each in turn.

“I’m Dr Hargis, but you can call me Christina.” She smiled warmly at the group.

“A doctor. That’s fantastic news, we figured that we would never see another medical professional,” John exclaimed.

“You all look like you have been through the ringer. Where are you from and, more importantly, how on earth did you make it here safely?” asked Christina in quiet admiration.

“It’s a long story. We are from Emsworth, I will tell you how we got here later, when we are all settled if that’s ok?” Kurt answered. In truth, he would only give a brief breakdown of the travails, the destruction and horror that they had witnessed wasn’t something Kurt wanted to relive unnecessarily.

“Of course,” she said, smiling warmly, “I assume you came because of the soldiers?”

“Yes. We were told that they had secured the hospital, what happened here?” John asked and a look of anguish wiped away the smile.

“They held out for as long as they could, I will tell you all about it later too,” Christina replied and said no more.

“We could use your help, we have a couple of injured people,” Sarah said, changing the subject. She didn’t want to take advantage of the lady’s skills when they barely knew each other, but Peter needed to be checked.

“I must emphasize I am technically an anatomical pathologist. I have still had extensive medical training so I will do what I can, where are they?” she asked with concern.

Kurt sent the doctor and Sarah off to check Peter over while the rest continued their task to destroy any remaining zombies in the last section of the building. Gloria said a silent prayer of thanks. Just when her faith was being tested to breaking point, He seemed to respond in mysterious ways. Moving slowly, Sam used the slingshot to pick off the stragglers so they didn’t need to take unnecessary risks and go hand to hand with the dead. Reaching the final entrance they found that the army had also blocked this one with concrete which meant they only had the front door to watch.

**********

They met back in the main foyer and Kurt gave Mike the nod to lock the door properly. The snap was a welcome sound for the group and they felt safe, for a little while at least. Christina returned from Peter’s room and gave him the all clear from a punctured lung.

“I have listened to his chest and, though painful, the broken ribs haven’t penetrated his lung. He will be in considerable pain for a few days so I have given him some morphine. He is currently singing to Paige so it seems to be working,” she explained. Debbie’s face reddened and she looked like she would explode. Christina missed it; she had no previous knowledge of the complicated twists in the group’s relationships. She assumed that they had always been a couple, the same as Debbie and Mike.

“Thank you for that, we really appreciate it,” Kurt said.

“Mike, are you ok?” the doctor asked him with a worried expression.

“I’m fine. I’m just tired,” he muttered in response.

“Would you mind if I took a look at you? You look really pale and sweaty,” she continued.

“I said I am fine, now fuck off!” he yelled and picked up his things. As he stormed off they watched as Debbie followed to heel like a well-trained dog.

“Sorry, I just wanted to help,” Christina apologized and the group explained in greater detail the dysfunctional relationships and problems they had encountered with the pair. They made it plain that they would be parting ways as soon as possible.

“Anyway, how the hell did you manage to survive here for the past few weeks?” John asked with genuine amazement. There was obviously more than meets the eye with the friendly doctor.

“It was a bad day, one of my closest friends had just died,” started Christina, her eyes took on a faraway look.

The chilled room of the morgue was bustling with activity. The smell of pine disinfectant hung on the air, disturbed and swirled by the ventilation system. The floor was highly polished white tile, designed to be easily cleaned in the event of a spillage. Two stretchers were in use, both holding the covered, deceased bodies that were due to have a post mortem.

In the corner lay Dr Keston, who had passed away the previous evening after a short battle with cancer. The death was expected, so the tests had been rudimentary. Blood was taken, followed by any organs that would be suitable for experimentation by the trainees. Dr Keston had been a well-known figure among the staff. He had been a friend and colleague to them all while serving in his position as the previous Head of Anatomical Pathology. Even in death he would continue to help the hospital.

She had trained under Dr Keston and had loved him dearly for twenty years. He was not only her mentor; their relationship had developed into a solid friendship. Despite an age gap of thirty years, he had possessed a sense of humour very similar to hers, derived from the often macabre nature of their work and a defence mechanism against the emotional toll. Dr Christina, as he had affectionately called her instead of her surname, had often spent time at the doctor’s Sussex home, sharing meals and learning more about the profession, fascinated by the depth of knowledge he carried. His wife, Janet, was a lovely woman too, quick to laugh and generous in nature.

“So here we are, old friend,” Dr Christina said, trying to maintain the emotional detachment that he had instilled in her on the first day of work after completing her medical degree. Her tears were evidence that it wasn’t working at the moment. She knew that the body was only a vessel, and his soul had moved on to whatever came next. Placing a hand on his cold brow, she moved a stray wisp of hair from his face.

“Are you ok?” Jenny asked, paying her respects. Jenny was the new medical student, twenty-two years old and as keen as mustard. She had only been lucky enough to work with Dr Keston for two months. A sore throat of Dr Keston’s had been diagnosed as aggressive oesophageal cancer. The illness had claimed him seventeen days after first diagnosis, the lack of suffering a blessing in some ways. He had often spoken of his desire to die quickly, not wasting away and becoming someone different as his faculties failed one by one.

“I’ll be fine, thank you for asking,” Christina answered, removing the tubes from the veins and covering him to protect his dignity. “Actually…”

“Yes, Doctor?” Jenny asked, eager to please her boss.

“Would you mind preparing him for viewing? His wife Janet will be here soon and it’s going to be hard enough, without me dressing him too,” Dr Christina said, struggling with the grief. He had been like a surrogate father to her through the years.

“Of course, here let me,” she replied, moving the body on the wheeled trolley and pushing through the side door. It led to the chapel of rest, a viewing room where the families could see their loved ones in a peaceful and tranquil environment before the undertaker collected the deceased.

Dr Christina took a shuddering breath, wiped the tears away with a tissue and put fresh gloves on. The post mortem on Harold Giles would take her mind from the pain and loneliness of her sudden loss. She prepared her table of implements. Rolling the sheet back, she exposed his torso. Mr Giles had been the victim of a drunk driver. The collision between their vehicles had been so severe that his body had to be cut free from the wreckage. Dr Christina sympathised, life was cruel and unfair at the best of times. Taking the scalpel, she placed it at the top of the chest, but was interrupted by the clatter of the main doors opening and two orderlies manoeuvring a new trolley into the room.

“Where did you want her, Doc?” Brian asked. He was a heavyset man, with a hairy chest and body. The polo neck he wore only accentuated the furriness, his coarse, brown hair bristling from the collar. He was a friendly character though and Dr Christina liked him. The same could not be said for the second man. Percy was in his early thirties, single, and had a surly attitude that aggravated everyone. It was only the fact that his mother was one of the governors of the hospital, that he even had a job. His usual tardiness and general aggressive tone would have seen lesser men fired. On one occasion, Dr Christina had found him in the refrigerated storage room. A young female body had been uncovered and the lascivious look on his face was enough to send chills down her spine. Much shouting had ensued between them as she chased him off. Her complaint had been brushed under the carpet at his mother’s behest. Their only communication now was looks of disgust on her part, and anger on his.

“She can go in 3 E, thanks Brian,” she answered, taking the transfer sheet from him. She signed it and then wrote the name on the tracking board, ignoring the glare of Percy and the way he looked both furious and aroused as he regarded her. Refusing to be intimidated, she stared back, looking him up and down before laughing dismissively. His face reddened and his small eyes narrowed with hatred. Brian pulled the metal handle of the refrigerated door and a cloud of cooler vapour flowed over the floor. The fluorescent lights flickered, blinking off before coming back on.

“Sorry, Doc, that wasn’t me, was it?” Brain apologised.

“No, the doors are not linked to the electricity. It’s a standard lock instead of the electromagnetic type we use for safety,” she assured him and he smiled, pushing the trolley deeper within.

Dr Christina took the scalpel again and made an incision straight down to the man’s navel. She then started to cut across the collar bone to the sternum, but noticed movement from the left arm. Pausing, she watched and waited, sure it was just the pressure she had exerted on the corpse. There it was again, the fingers fluttered and flexed.

“Oh God!” she exclaimed and ran to the phone and dialled the emergency line. A matron immediately answered.

“Emergencies, Cathy speaking,” came a pleasant voice down the line.

“Cathy, it’s Dr Hargis, we have an emergency. I have just started a post mortem but the man is alive! Get a team down here now!” Christina shouted.

“They are on their way,” was Cathy’s unflustered reply. They were used to dealing with high pressure medical issues, though probably never one as bizarre.

“Brian, Percy, I need your help!” she called through into the darkened room. The heavy plastic strip curtains that hung just inside the door had fallen back into place, hiding the men from view. Turning to administer any treatment she could before the emergency team arrived, she was astonished to see the man sitting. Astonishment turned to blood curdling terror in an instant as she watched his intestines uncoil from her incision, falling from his lap and trailing down to the floor.

“Dear God in Heaven,” she whispered, holding her face in shock. The noise was sufficient to turn Harold’s head and he regarded her with dead eyes. She had seen enough of them in her time as a pathologist, but none had studied her so intently, and they had never been in the head of someone mobile. The second gurney was also alive with movement and the body sat erect, the sheet falling from its face. The head of the second body slowly rotated, seeking the source of the frantic gasping coming from Dr Christina.

Loud thuds and crashes came from the refrigerator room. Brian and Percy were halfway through placing the body onto the storage shelf when she had started to move. Dropping the young lady, she rolled to a stop at Brian’s feet and then reached for him. More impacts echoed in the small chamber as other bodies writhed free of their place of rest. The young woman pulled herself close to Brian and with a lunge; she bit down on his calf, tearing a chunk of muscle away. Brian screamed and pushed the cold body away, watching as it chewed. Another zombie grabbed him from his place on the shelf and tore the left side of Brian’s face away in a red spray.

“Percy, help me!” gurgled Brian, as blood poured through the gaping hole in his face.

The younger man looked around, and saw the rising forms of the other corpses. “Fuck you, you’re on your own!” he squealed and ran, dodging past a naked man who reached for him and groaned. More of the previously dead converged on Brian and they weighed him down, the gurgling screams reaching fever pitch as his flesh was peeled away from bone.

Dr Christina was moving toward the chapel of rest, the eviscerated Mr Giles was clear of the gurney and only a few paces from seizing her. It was surreal, the entrails glistened but there was no blood. Her legs felt like they weighed a thousand pounds, leaden and sluggish. It was a mixture of fear and disbelief. She was a logical and intelligent woman; this was simply not possible. She almost moved toward the figure again, thinking it must be shock that had numbed him from the pain. Percy hammered through the fridge door, catching the shoulder of the man. The legs of Harold Giles tangled in the intestines and he fell to the floor at her feet, lassoed on his own guts. She rushed forward and reached for the spilled loops, hoping to put them back in.

“Please, Mr Giles, hold still. What are you doing?” she said as he clawed for her, trying to bite at her arms. “I’m trying to help you.”

The second deceased body was walking towards her too, arms raised and teeth gnashing.

“Look, the emergency team will be here in a matter of minutes. Umm, just stay put.” She turned and flung open the door that led to the viewing room where families could say a farewell to their loved ones with dignity and grace. Dr Keston was feasting upon the young intern Jenny, who was looking towards Dr Christina, eyes glazing with the agony of her ravaged neck and arms. Blood pumped weakly from her jugular and formed a spreading pool around her body. Jenny’s fingers clawed at the floor, imploring Christina for help, forming trails through the blood. Her dead mentor pulled more muscle free and she saw its arms raise, forcing the meat into his mouth. Dr Keston’s attention was on the red platter as he ate his fill. The horrific last supper caused Jenny’s blood to reach the door and flow under it, a sea of red. The dead man behind was coming; the heavy slaps of his hands on the floor were getting closer as he pulled himself along. The pool of blood at the door meant she would likely slip and fall onto her bottom, leaving her at the mercy of the voracious cannibal whom she had once loved.

Jenny died, her eyes losing focus as her neck ran dry. Dr Christina was trapped.  Being in the basement level below ground meant there were no windows for her to escape from. The velvet curtains that separated each viewing area would provide some camouflage, but if either monster looked around properly she would be discovered and devoured. The only chance of survival was the empty display coffin that the doctor should have been laying in. The wooden box was lined with soft fabric, embossed with gentle contours and frills for the carriage of the dead into the afterlife. She hurriedly climbed in, the creaking noises masked by the frenzied meal taking place only eight feet away. She lay down, placing her head on the small burial pillow and pulled the lid closed, the darkness taking her. The sounds of screaming began, muffled by the timber and padding of the box. Dr Christina held her breath, trembling in terror. She was sure the abominations could see the nervous vibrations and would pull open the lid, before ripping her to pieces.

The chaos was growing by the second, shouts and screams were followed by smashing glass in the corridor outside. She wanted to jump out of the stifling box, her lungs ached with the stale air and she was certain she was suffocating. The coffin would be her final resting place she frantically thought to herself. Closing her eyes, which were useless in the tightly sealed coffin anyway, she tried to calm down. As a doctor, she knew the oxygen would last for a while, but she was in danger of hyperventilating. Self-preservation would mean nothing in the blind panic that claustrophobia and oxygen deprivation would create. Imagining she was tucked in bed, taking slow deep breaths and concentrating on happier times, she settled her racing heart. She pictured her parents’ warm smiles and loving, nurturing embrace. The coffin lurched with an impact and she almost screamed, but held it in. The footsteps moved away, taking the threat with it. She waited silently while the hospital died, the giver of life and care, now a source of spreading undeath.

Hours passed. The sounds of screaming and shouting, coupled with the occasional crash of breaking glass, was gone. The noise of moaning had replaced all other sound, penetrating the pine and padding of the wooden coffin. Christina breathed slowly through her mouth, wary that the rasping passage of air through her nostrils would alert them to her hiding place. Closing her eyes for a moment, she awoke again with a start. The urge to burst forth from the confinement engulfed her. Only by sheer willpower did she still her arms and keep them at her sides. How long had she been out? The noises had diminished to near silence. What she heard could have been her imagination, it was that faint.

“You can do this,” she told herself, and opened the lid by a single inch. From her horizontal position she couldn’t see the floor, but the room itself was deserted of anything standing. Gradually sitting erect like a Hollywood vampire from the coffin, she verified the room was empty. Taking the phone from her pocket, she dared to make a call now that she was alone. She tried security; nothing. The on call locum doctor; nothing. Her secretary; nothing. Emergency services; engaged.

“That’s not good,” she whispered, looking at the screen of her phone as it reported another engaged tone. Scrolling through the options she selected
‘vibrate’
from the menu to keep the ringtone muted. She considered trying to dial the police again, but she changed tact and dialled her parents instead. After ringing eight times the answerphone picked up.
‘You have reached the phone of Gail and Don Hargis, please leave a message and we will get back to you as soon as we can.’
The line beeped.