"What are we doing here?"
Sergeant Leon Romero ignored the question for a brief moment as he kicked the door open, raised his pistol, and stepped into the next room. He swept the beam of light emanating from his gun up and down the dark laboratory.
"We're getting medical supplies and research equipment for Joan and Cassie," Leon said.
"Yeah, but what I don't get is why we're getting them from a dark, abandoned hospital in the dead-center of the city," Jonah said.
"Ha," Leon said, obviously thrilled by Jonah's pun.
"No, really, how many times can we risk going through the most zombie-infested part of town without losing somebody?" Jonah asked.
"As many as we have to, I guess," Leon said. He continued sweeping the room, finally checking inside the storage closet before approaching a door at the back of the lab. "Reed still wants to
follow the plan if we can make it work, but we need a lot more gear to make that happen."
"We need to find survivors if we're gonna do that," Jonah said.
A voice came down the hallway behind them. "Guys? Have you got that lab clear?"
"Stay back, Cassie, gotta check the next room," Leon shouted back. "Jonah, hit the door."
Jonah did, and shined his ridiculously powerful FBI-style flashlight into the room.
The zombies must have been sitting down, staring at the wall. Zombies fixate on the strangest things. They stood suddenly, a quicker motion their usual, and they turned shuffling towards the survivors. Their faces and clothes were covered in blood, although they did not appear wounded on the surface. One of them grabbed at Jonah as he stumbled back.
Four loud reports from Leon's gun, and two dull thuds from the back room. Zombies are not really that threatening in small numbers, at least not when you're expecting them.
"GUYS?!?" Came Cassie's shout from down the hallway.
"We're OK," Jonah yelled.
Leon checked the back room for more. "We're clear here, Cassie."
Cassie wheeled into the lab with truck dolly in tow. She carried her gianormous flashlight in her lap. "You scared the crap out of me," she said.
"Just partying like it's 1999," Leon said. "What do you need us to load up?"
"Most of it should be here, and then there will be a couple of items from the morgue," Cassie said.
"The morgue?" Jonah asked.
"If I'm gonna try to figure out why dead zombies didn't stay dead the last time, I'm gonna need some stuff from the morgue, yeah," Cassie said. "You scared?"
"Bring it."
Outside the hospital,
Rose walked to the front of the delivery truck to get a look around. She lifted the shotgun in her hands wearily. After glancing up and down the deserted streets, she turned around and chuckled at what she saw. Paulo cut a dashing figure on the loading ramp with his feet planted at staggered heights, hands on his hips and Hawaiian shirt with three buttons undone. As he gazed into the midday sky, he looked like a superhero on vacation.
Paulo noticed Rose's snickering. "What?" He asked. "This is the fashion on all the runways in Italy, I'll have you know."
"No, absolutely," Rose said, still smiling. "You just look like the most relaxed zombie hunter ever."
"È vero," Paulo said.
Roger, who had been sitting in the cab of the truck looking uncomfortable, climbed out. "Kurt's team just radioed, their on their way out," Roger said.
Paulo opened the back of the truck. A minute later, three people came out of the hospital pushing equipment and boxes. In the lead, Kurt Russell (!) quickly handed his box off to Roger. Kurt then drew a pistol and went to the front of the truck where Rose was.
"OK, guys, be careful with this stuff," said Joan, the second person to exit the hospital. "The little doggies and kitties won't be happy if I have to zap their brains with defective equipment."
"Dogs and cats?" Roger asked, clearly dismayed. "They can't even get zombified! Why would you pick on them?"
"Kinda the point, Roger," Joan said. The jangling of glass bottles drew her attention to the tall, lean man behind her. "Walter. Seriously. Do not drop that on your foot!"
Walter handed the box to Paulo, who peaked at it inquisitively. "Why is this one so special?" Paulo asked.
"Morphine," Walter said. "Aside from the fact that we have a serious lack of pain killers at the stadium, I think if I broke those on my foot I'd collapse like one of those fainting goats."
"And you've got a long way to fall," Paulo said.
"It's a gift. And a curse," Walter, a good deal taller than Paulo, said. "I think you're just jealous." Walter didn't actually think that Paulo was jealous.
"OK guys, come on," Joan said. "We've still got another load of gear to get out of there. More if Cassie needs help in the morgue."
The daylight spilled down the stairs beside the wheelchair ramp. Jonah and Leon walked down the stairs as Cassie wheeled down the ramp.
"You guys hang back here," Leon said. "I'll sweep the morgue."
"Okie-dokie, but just check the main room, Leon," Jonah said. "Let's get in and get out."
Leon kicked the morgue double-doors open and stepped into the room. It would have been more dramatic if the left door hadn't swung back and hit him in the shoulder. It would have still been dramatic if there had been any zombies to shoot.
"Follow me," Leon said.
"Alright, guys," Cassie said as Jonah held the door. "First, I need... some of those!" Cassie wheeled toward the examination table by the cold chambers. "Jonah, give me a hand with this. Yeah, push that out of the way."
Jonah pushed the post mortem utensil cart aside, and began lifting a box with the tools Cassie was looking for.
To rephrase an important rule from physics, when stuff gets pushed, it tends to keep going unless something gets in the way. In this case, the stuff is a post mortem cart. The something in the way is a cold chamber.
The loud bang reminded the whole room that physics was still working.
"What the hell was that?!?" Leon, who was a cop back when there were cops, shouted. Cops get to talk like that (Should I be bleeping foul language?).
"Sorry," Jonah said.
The second bang was not as loud, but it let them know about a lot more than physics.
bang. Bang bang.
Bang, bang--from another chamber. And BANG! from yet another.
"Kurt, we need you down here!" Leon's voice came over the walkie-talkie. Kurt glanced at Rose and Roger, the two remaining by the truck. Without a word, he drew his pistol and ran back into the hospital.
"Wait, what's going on??" Roger yelled after Kurt.
"Relax, Roger," Rose said. "Kurt's the strong, silent type. At least silent."
"Yeah but what if something goes wrong out here?" Roger said. "All I've got is a crowbar."
"Shh," Rose said. "We're pretending nothing could happen."
"Hello!!!" Rose and Roger turned suddenly toward the street past the movie theater. Several blocks away, a man was staggering toward them, followed closely by two dozen zombies. "HELP ME!"
"Bleep," Rose said. It was warranted, but I decided to bleep it anyway. "He's gonna draw them all right to us!"
They stumbled out of the theater. They walked out of the office buildings. For blocks around, dozens and dozens of zombies began wandering into the streets. It quickly became clear that the man would not make it to them before the zombies closed in around him.
Roger ran towards him. Not that Roger was a particularly heroic man, but this was a survivor, and survivors should stick together. As he reach the zombies ahead of the man, he came in swinging.
Rose reacted slower, but smarter. She moved toward the theater entrance and fired three shots at the zombies in the doorway, knocking them back. She then shoved her crowbar into the doorway, sealing about thirty zombies inside. She turned to see four zombies had turned toward her, and six more moving toward the truck.
"Roger, get to the truck!" She shouted. She continued to fire, cutting an opening for Roger and the injured man.
"AAAAARRRRGGHH!" Roger shouted. He fell to the ground with a zombie's teeth sunk into his left forearm.
The rest of the retrieval team came pouring out of the hospital. Leon and Kurt immediately began shooting zombies. More of them turned their attention on the truck.
"Let's get this stuff on the truck quick," Joan said, lifting boxes quickly.
Walter knew they had to move fast, but they couldn't afford to lose people. "Paulo, come on!"
The two men raced to Rose, Roger, and the injured man. Rose shot the zombie off of Roger, and Walter and Paulo helped the two men back to the truck.
And then they all got eaten by zombies. But not really.
"OOWWW! UUNNGHH!" Roger shouted.
"Hold him down! Cassie, hand me a bottle of morphine!" Joan said.
"Thank you for... saving me," the injured man said, wincing. "Did you say you have morphine?"
Walter slapped the man across the face. He was incensed.
"Joan, it's a zombie bite," Rose said. "He's going to turn."
"Thanks, pretty sure we got that," Joan said. "We're a little busy right now getting it under control."
"We can't bring anyone who's going to turn into the stadium," Jonah said. "That's the first rule. We can't take him in."
"You think we should have left him?" Paulo asked.
"We're taking him inside," Walter said.
"What are you talking about? Reed will never agree to that."
"He'll agree. I'll convince him," Walter said. He meant it.
"Walt, you're putting all of us at risk," Leon said. "Why would you do that?"
"Keep him unconscious, Joan," Walter said. "You won't just be studying cats anymore."
"What?"
"We'll keep both of them in the lab. If this new guy makes it a week without turning, maybe we'll put him to work," Walter said.
"I hate to say it, but Walter's right," Rose said. Kurt and Paulo nodded their agreement.
"But... but I haven't been bitten, I'm not infected," the man said.
"I guess we'll take your word for that, then," Walter said sarcastically. "If we show up with a couple of infected, the camp will collapse in panic and fear. If we have a plan, we survive."
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