Chapter 4 #4
It makes sense. Maybe he’s not as dumb as I thought. “We need to get everybody out of here,” I whisper. “This is getting out of control.”
“It’s no better outside. The news isn’t even scratching the surface of what’s really happening. I saw one of those carriers on my way to work today,” Nurse Patrick says.
“Carriers?”
“Yeah, like disease carriers,” he answers. “That’s what they’re calling them on the news. Look, I hate to say it, but I think we should stay here until they get this under control. We’re safer here than out on the streets.”
I almost argue, but the fear in his eyes is enough. If he’d rather be in here with five ticking time bombs, he must know something I don’t. “Then we need to stay away from these bodies. Let’s get the girls into the dayroom, close the door, be quiet, and hope help comes,” I say.
“Right. Quinn, get Keisha and Lucia. I’ll get Ginger and January from the north hall. Cat, you come with me. Pat, get some supplies from the pantry. We could be in there all day,” Mr. Josh whispers, annoyingly handing out orders like this was his idea.
I nod anyway. Gripping my bedpost at my side, I quietly make my way down the hall to Keisha’s room. She’s still in the corner, cradling her bedpost.
“Keisha, come on. We’re all going to the dayroom to make a plan.”
“What happened?” she asks.
“I’ll explain later. We need to be quiet. Come on.”
Keisha takes a reluctant step but follows me down the hall to Lucia’s room. Out of habit, I stand in her doorway and knock softly.
“Lucia?” I wait. “Lucia?” No response.
I walk into her room, but she’s nowhere to be found. I look under her bed. Nothing. I move around the corner and see a pair of shoes peeking out from the bottom of her shower curtain.
Lucia is the youngest of us. At thirteen years old, she barely qualified to live here.
She almost never speaks. For the first month she was here, we thought she was completely mute.
Eventually she spoke up, but only when it was absolutely necessary.
To be honest, I would have completely forgotten she was here if Mr. Josh hadn’t just reminded me.
Gently, I pull back the curtain. She stands stiffly, her tiny frame curved in on itself. Her big brown eyes hide behind a mess of soft brown curls. In her tight fist, she grips a large Phillips head screwdriver. How the hell did she get one of those?
“Lucia, come with us. It’s not safe here. We’re going to the dayroom.”
She shakes her head, her curls bouncing back and forth. I sigh impatiently and turn to leave. We’re on thin ice, and I don’t have time to argue with a child. “Fine, have it your way,” I say with a shrug, but Keisha grabs my arm before I can take another step.
“Lucia, I’m scared too,” Keisha says empathetically. “We’ll be safer if we’re all together. Come with me,” she says, holding out her hand with a warm smile.
Somehow, that’s all it takes. Lucia locks her brown eyes onto Keisha’s and grabs her hand like a lifeline, gripping it tightly, holding her screwdriver in the other.
Keisha’s always been able to get people to trust her quickly.
I envy that. People look at her and see someone caring and gentle.
People look at me and feel instantly uneasy.
I hold a finger to my lips and gesture toward the dayroom.
We creep down the hall, and after a few steps, we’re nearing Tasha’s room and the bodies inside it.
I grip my bedpost a little tighter, but as we pass by I can see no one has moved from their places on the floor.
More than ever, I wish they let us have doors. We keep moving.
As we enter the dayroom, I do a quick headcount.
Mr. Josh, Nurse Patrick, Ginger, January, Lucia, Keisha, and a bandaged-up Cat sit on the couches lining the wall.
Only eight of us left. I close the dayroom door quietly and choose a seat near it.
I let my bedpost fall into my lap, but I don’t let my guard down.
Across the room, I eye Cat cautiously. She cradles her bandaged arm, but she doesn’t look sick yet.
Nurse Patrick has wheeled in the water cooler from the staff’s break room along with a box of snacks.
At least we won’t starve. We have four weapons between the eight of us.
Mr. Josh and I each have a bedpost from my room.
Keisha holds one from hers. Lucia grips her screwdriver discreetly from within her pocket, keeping it out of Mr. Josh’s view. It’s not much.
“Okay, everyone, listen carefully,” Mr. Josh begins.
“First and foremost, it’s important that we’re all very quiet and stay in the dayroom with the door closed.
We need to be calm until help comes.” He tells the girls about the sickness and the riots and explains that loud noises will bring back the dead.
Hearing him explain it sounds so surreal, but there’s no denying it’s the truth.
For all his assholery, Mr. Josh is a professional.
He explains everything in a way even January understands.
When he’s finished, Ginger asks the question we all have on our minds. “What are we going to do now?”