Chapter 24
“How many do you see?” Greg asks.
Blake looks through a pair of binoculars, scanning the back entrance of the Meadow Crest hospital. The three of us wait, our backs pressed up against the side of the truck.
“I count six. Two near the dumpsters, two at the doors, and two by the med bay,” Blake says, continuing to observe their movements through the lenses.
On our drive in, we noticed a large number of biters near the hospital’s front entrance and decided to enter from the back, parking the truck far enough away to not make too much noise, but also not so far that we couldn’t make a quick getaway if needed.
“I don’t love four versus six,” JJ says, looking around the area for possible approach paths.
“Me neither,” Blake adds. “But they seem to be pretty docile right now, and if we sneak up on them, I can take out two by myself. If you can do the same, JJ, then that leaves the last two for Casey and Greg.”
“Yeah, I can get two of them quick enough with my knife.” JJ nods.
“Casey, Greg, does that work for you?” Blake looks to us.
I shake my head. “Let me take a pair. I can get them from a distance with my throwing stars. Less risk on that front. Greg and JJ can tag-team the last two.”
“You sure?” Blake puts down the binoculars, gauging my sureness. “If you miss and they make a bunch of noise, we could be overrun in seconds.”
I stare right back at him, not flinching in my response. “I won’t miss.”
He nods, turning to the group. In a low whisper, he says, “All right, I’ve got the two by the med bay. Greg and JJ, go for the ones by the dumpsters. Casey, the back entrance is yours. Follow my lead until we split, and then look for my signal. We’ll strike at the same time, understood?”
Everyone bobs their heads in agreement. Unsheathing our weapons, we ready ourselves for the attack.
Blake moves first, walking around the truck in a low crouch.
His arms are out in front of him as if he were holding a gun, but instead it’s a sword, pointed at the ready.
We follow behind in a single-file line, trying to make as little noise as possible as we travel across the concrete parking lot.
On his signal, we split off in three separate paths, closing in on our respective targets.
Once in position, we wait, all eyes on Blake for the go-ahead.
From where I’m crouched, I could hit my two biters right now with my throwing stars, even if it is a bit far.
I ready one in my throwing hand and one in my other palm so I can grab the second star and fling it less than a second later.
I hold my breath, watching Blake as I try not to blink for fear of missing his mark.
He flicks his hand forward, signaling us to move.
I wait a couple of seconds, knowing that if I throw too quickly, my biters will collapse and make noise before the other three have time to reach their targets.
Blake reaches the first biter, and he shoves his sword up under its chin, piercing its skull.
My head’s on a swivel as I rotate it to watch JJ and Greg both lunging forward, weapons ready to plunge down into the skulls of the two unknowing monsters.
I turn my focus back on the biters in front of me and begin running, letting loose the first star when I’m confident I’m in range to not miss.
It rips through the throat of the first biter, the creature dropping to its knees before crumpling over.
I switch the other star into my throwing hand and send it flying at the second biter.
I follow the shining piece of steel as it glides through the air, but the biter drops down at the last second and starts to eat the other biter I just put out of its misery.
The star crashes through the glass panel on the door, shattering it. Shit.
The biter lifts its head, pausing its meal, and looks around in confusion, unsure of what just happened. Then it spots me.
Staggering to its feet, it has a look of disbelief on its decrepit face, like it can’t believe its luck in finding such a delicious thing to eat.
Its eyes go wide as it starts to run toward me.
I frantically go for the zipper on my pouch, ripping on the tab, but it’s stuck.
I yank on it over and over, but the damn thing won’t budge.
If I use my gun, the run’s over, because the noise will bring every one of them to us.
I pull out my Glock and level it at the biter, holding steady as a last resort.
With my other hand, I unsheathe my knife, readying it.
The biter opens its mouth and starts to emit a high-pitched scream.
“It’s over if it screams anyway,” I whisper to myself.
I don’t have a choice. It’s too far away. I have to pull the trigger.
The biter’s mouth snaps closed, and it tumbles over midrun, smashing into the ground and sliding a few feet to a dead stop, chunks of skin peeling away.
A large knife protrudes from the side of its head, and black blood oozes, seeping into the cracked concrete.
Blake extracts the blade that saved the run from being a total waste.
As he strolls toward me, I’m already anticipating the verbal lashing I’ll receive for almost blowing the whole operation.
“I don’t know what happened,” I say, stammering over my words. “It ducked at the last second, and my star would have hit dead-on if . . .”
“Shhh, easy.” Blake flaps his hands, gesturing for me to stay calm. “That’s why we work in teams. Shit happens.”
“But . . . I . . . I promised I wouldn’t miss.”
“There are no guarantees in battle, Casey.” He slaps me on the back, jolting me forward and shaking me out of my worry. “Come on. We’re just getting started, and I need your head in the game because you’re our guide now.”
“Okay,” I say with a nod, grateful for his understanding and encouragement. We head for the back entrance, continuing on with the plan.
I push through the rotating glass doors and find the space is eerily familiar, instantly bringing me back to the night I escaped the hospital in Chicago.
It’s not the same one, but in a way, they all feel the same.
The floor is coated in streaks of rotted black and brown, substances that look like the combination of every fluid the body is capable of producing.
There are bodies everywhere, many of which were regular humans, killed and eaten by biters.
Their corpses are devoid of soft organs.
Stomachs and rib cages are ripped open and hollow, now acting as homes for maggots and insects feeding on the remaining scraps of bone and putrid sinew.
The buzz of flies mixes with the humming of the track lighting, still softly glowing, thanks to backup generators that are likely running on solar panels. Hospital beds and gurneys are toppled on their sides in the halls with loose papers and clipboards scattered everywhere.
Blake starts off first, taking the lead to check for any danger, but he suddenly freezes, standing in the middle of the hall like a statue that has been commissioned as a decor piece. The three of us exchange looks, unsure of what to do.
JJ approaches Blake and puts his hand on his shoulder. “Hey man, you all right?”
Blake jumps slightly, quickly looking to JJ. “Yeah, I’m fine. Let’s go.”
As stressful and terrifying as this scavenge run is, this should be nothing compared to what he did in the Seals, so I don’t understand why this has him so spooked.
A whisper comes up from behind me. “Hey, Casey.”
I turn to see Greg apprehensively waiting for me. “Yeah?” I say.
“Before we head in, just in case one of us dies, I have a question for you.”
I can only imagine what this could be about, but I’m sure it doesn’t need to happen here. “Is now really the right time?”
His eyes look up and to the right before he levels to me. “Probably not, but it might be the only time.”
I sigh. “Okay . . . what is it?”
“Did you tell Molly she was supposed to be just a one-night stand?”
“Yes,” I say without hesitation.
His eyebrows burrow toward the center of his forehead. “What? Why?”
“Because you already should’ve told her. Stringing her along because you’re afraid to hurt her feelings or because you have no other options is wrong, and it’s not fair to her.”
“Well, now she won’t talk to me.”
“I thought that’s what you wanted.”
“I did. But . . .” He scratches his head, sheepishly looking at the floor. “Now I kinda like her. Is that love?”
I sigh heavily. I really don’t have time for this. “Look, Greg, we can talk about this later. Right now, let’s just focus on staying alive.”
“Fine. But this isn’t over.” He points at me, emphasizing that he means business.
“I just said we could talk about it later. That means it’s not over.”
“Oh . . . okay. Cool.” He smiles.
I shake my head, wondering how many college classes he actually attended, or if a healthy regimen of booze, weed, and variations of Molly rotted his brain.
Tabling our conversation, we head deeper into the lobby.
The odor coming from the putrefied corpses becomes unbearable, and Greg starts to gag behind me, loudly dry heaving.
I turn and grab his face, pinching his nose and covering his mouth.
“Stop that,” I yell in a whisper.
“I can’t. It’s so gross.” He gags again, so I pull my hand away, not wanting vomit spewed all over me.
“If you need to throw up, just get it over with quietly. But no coughing and no dry heaving.”
Greg gags again and nods, rushing over to a nearby corpse. He sticks his face near its rotting body and takes in a whiff so deeply, it makes him barf into its open cavity. Fucking gross.
After a minute, he gives a thumbs-up, wipes his face with his sleeve, and rejoins us.
Near the front desk, a placard on the wall indicates the different areas of the hospital.
“Look,” I say, pointing to the sign. “The ICU is on the third floor. That’s our best bet for finding the biggest meds repository. Let’s find the stairwell and head on up.”