Chapter 4 #2
An inhuman screech fills the hallway as Ms. Michelle lunges at Tracy’s throat, silencing her. The momentum flings Tracy backward. It’s like slow motion as her skull hits the linoleum with a low thwack. Ms. Michelle goes with her, tearing at her throat on the way down.
My heart has never beat like this—fast, steady, hot. I don’t feel fear. I feel excitement. I feel ready. I run.
When I reach my room, I grab the two liberated bedposts, comforted by the weight of them in my hands. I turn to go back down the hall and see Keisha standing paralyzed in the corner of her room, clutching her own bedpost out in front of her.
“Keisha, come on!” I call to her, but I don’t stop moving until I reach the chaos.
As I run, I can see Tracy’s lifeless body lying in a pool of blood off to the side of the mass of girls in front of me.
I look back and forth, trying to understand what I’ve missed.
Just as I’m approaching the group, two of the girls turn toward me, leaving a small opening in their circle, and I see it.
Ms. Michelle has her newest victim. Diamond is pinned to the floor.
Ms. Michelle tears at her bubbling throat with her teeth as Mr. Josh tries to pull her off, but Ms. Michelle is determined. I scan the hallway, looking for Nurse Patrick, and see him staring, standing dumbly holding a syringe full of meds.
“Nurse Patrick! Heads up!” I yell, tossing him a bedpost. He snaps back to life, swiftly grabbing the weapon mid-air, letting the syringe fall at his feet.
“Stand back!” I shout at the girls still watching the bloodbath.
Somehow, they listen, and I have a clear path toward Ms. Michelle.
I widen my stance, grip the bedpost, pull it backward, and swing with everything I’ve got.
The upward arc of the bedpost meets Ms. Michelle right under her chin.
The momentum sends her and Mr. Josh tumbling to the floor on their backs.
They both lie there, stunned for a moment, until Ms. Michelle’s empty eyes lock onto mine.
Her newly broken teeth have made her mouth a snarling, empty pit, allowing even more black bile to escape onto the floor.
I step backward and nearly lose my balance, but that thrill of readiness settles in my chest again as Ms. Michelle begins to push herself off the floor.
She’s found her next target, and it’s me.
Her hands, slick with blood, slip on the wet tiles, giving me the precious seconds I need to find my footing.
I square up again. This time I raise the bedpost over my head and swing it downward like an axe.
The bedpost connects with her left shoulder.
Dammit. Another screech rips from Ms. Michelle’s throat, and I’m desperate to slap my hands over my ears.
Fear prickles my spine, and I ready myself for another swing.
This time I can’t miss. I reel back and let the momentum of my body bring the bedpost around until it meets her skull.
I feel the bone give way as her head ricochets off the floor.
She falls at my feet, motionless. I breathe a sigh of relief and feel the edges of my mouth start to rise into a satisfied smile.
Something in me stirs, and I feel what I can only describe as peace.
The moment is fleeting, though. When I look up, every wide eye is on me.
I see horror on their faces and quickly rearrange my face to match theirs.
The air smells like copper and rot. Three bodies lie in front of us: Ms. Michelle, Tracy, and Diamond. Nurse Patrick vomits into the wastebasket near the dayroom. Some help he was. Before I can dodge him, Mr. Josh scrambles to his feet and snatches the bedpost out of my hand.
“Quinn, what have you done!” he shouts.
“I just…”
“What the hell, Quinn! Where did you even get this?” he says, shaking the bedpost in his hand.
I brush him off. “Listen, she wasn’t going to stop. I had to—”
He cuts me off with a growl, pointing the bedpost at the group of girls gaping at the mess in front of them. “Every single one of you, go to your rooms right now!”
The girls listen, stunned into silence. Even January is quiet, her tears half-dry on her red face.
I look for Keisha, but I guess she never left her room.
As the girls walk back down the hall, I see a small group of them sneak into Tasha’s room even though we’re not allowed to go into each other’s rooms. Mr. Josh doesn’t even bother to remind them of the rules or threaten them with demerits.
I move down the hallway, putting some distance between myself and the fresh bodies. We need to do something about Tracy and Diamond, fast. I wave for Mr. Josh and Nurse Patrick to follow me toward my room.
“Mr. Josh, Nurse Patrick, we need to—”
“We don’t need to do anything. You need to stay in your room until the police get here,” Mr. Josh snaps. “And don’t you dare take apart any more of your furniture!”
“Aren’t the cops a little busy with the riots?” I say, rolling my eyes, putting “riots” in air quotes.
“Look, what if these people are just sick, Quinn? What if they need a doctor and not a bedpost to the skull! What were you thinking?” he says.
“I was thinking that Ms. Michelle needed to die before she bit anyone else,” I snap back at him.
“You had no right! You had no—” He cuts himself off, punching the wall in front of him. His fist flies easily through the thin drywall, making his childish display look a lot more impressive than it really was. I roll my eyes.
“We don’t have time for the what-ifs! The same thing that happened to Ms. Michelle is about to happen to Tracy and Diamond. If we don’t act fast, this entire unit will turn into a bloodbath. We need to contain them.”
“This can’t be happening.” Nurse Patrick sighs, scrubbing at his face with his hands.
“Ms. Michelle was dead! You saw it yourself. I heard you talking about it. She woke up and killed two people, and she wasn’t going to stop! Did you not see the riots on the news? If we don’t take care of this right now, Tracy and Diamond are going to wake up and take out the rest of us.”
“She’s right, Josh,” Nurse Patrick says.
“Duh,” I say, throwing my hands in the air.
“This is insane! You both sound insane!” Mr. Josh says, pacing frantically. “They must’ve been sick. You must have missed her pulse. She must not have been dead after all. There is a logical reason for this if you both just calm down.”
“How long did it take?” I ask Nurse Patrick. Clearly he’s the only rational adult left.
“How long did what take?” he asks.
“How long between the moment Ms. Michelle died and when she got back up?”
“I don’t know… I guess twenty minutes or so?” Shit. I jog down the hall toward Keisha’s room, leaving them behind. I need more information.
“Keisha, I need to ask you something,” I say from her doorway.
In the corner of her room, Keisha stares into space with a death grip on her bedpost. She doesn’t even seem to know I’m here. I walk into her room, rules be damned. I put my hand on her shoulder.
“Keisha? Keisha, come on. Get it together.”
“I’m fine,” she says, snapping back to life.
“I need to know more about what you saw last night. After the cops and the paramedics died, how long did it take for them to get back up?” I ask.
“It happened really fast. They got up all at once. Together,” she says.
“How much time did it take?” I repeat.
“Less than ten minutes.”
I leap up and look down the hallway. Tracy and Diamond are still lying in a pool of themselves next to Ms. Michelle. I have no idea how much time we have left, but I don’t intend to wait.
I make my way back down the hallway in front of my room, where Nurse Patrick and Mr. Josh still stand arguing quietly.
When I reach them, I break down and confess to the outdoor adventure Keisha and I had last night.
I tell them everything as fast as I can.
There’s no point in keeping it to myself now.
Nurse Patrick takes in the new information seriously.
Mr. Josh just looks pissed, but the facts seem to be sinking in, finally.
“So, we don’t know how much time we have. They could get up any second, or we could have ten more minutes. Or more, I guess,” I say, finishing my story with a shrug.
The three of us turn to stare down the hall at the bodies, looking for any twitch. It’s Ginger who diverts our attention. Two doors south of the massacre, she steps out of her room, tears and snot dripping down her pink face. “I need to call my mom to pick me up. I want to go home,” she sniffles.
“Ginger, the phones are dead in the whole building. I’m sorry, but none of us can make any calls right now,” Mr. Josh explains, mustering as much fake sympathy as he can.
Boldly, Ginger walks past the bodies and over to the staff workstation and picks up the desk phone.
I guess we’re done with all the rules now.
She drops the receiver and lets it bounce by its cord, useless.
Nurse Patrick and Mr. Josh walk down the hall toward the workstation to try to coax Ginger back to her room. I follow them.
“You could let me use your cell phone. I know you have one,” she accuses Nurse Patrick.
“Ginger, I tried calling an ambulance for Ms. Michelle an hour ago; there’s no signal. Too many people are trying to use the phones right now. People are getting sick just like Ms. Michelle, and people are all trying to make calls at the same time,” Nurse Patrick attempts to explain patiently.
“But you have to let me try! At least let me try! I have human rights!” Ginger whines.