The Tasmania Trilogy (Book 1): Breakdown Page 13

  “Never.” Mac lifted her out of the truck and she sat in his arms the way she did all those years ago on their wedding night when he carried her as a joke up the stairs of their tiny apartment in Sydney. She was normally light, a little over fifty kilograms, and he often picked her up and spun her over his shoulder in play with the kids. But now, she felt even lighter, and he wondered how long since she had eaten a decent meal. Mac backed away and slammed the door shut as rain peppered his head and face.

  Before he could turn, one of them had a hand on his arm. Mac shrugged it off and swung around, finding the gruesome face of a young man in board shorts and a singlet. Dark lines crisscrossed beneath the skin of his arms and legs. They looked like blood vessels. He’d never seen anything like it. The young man opened his mouth and made a slobbery, hissing noise. Mac ran at him, dropping his shoulder into the kid’s chest. He fell back and went sprawling on the concrete as Mac headed for the door.

  Another infected attacked, perhaps the surfer kid’s girlfriend, who couldn’t have been twenty, with her slim, pasty figure and pink bikini. The look was almost comical. Under any other circumstances, she might have turned heads, but now, her hideous, bulging eyes and bloody mouth were anything but attractive. She went directly for Mac, teeth bared like a vampire. Mac turned his body, angling Jess away as the girl reached him, and struck her across the jaw with the tip of his elbow. The sound was like splitting wood. She crumpled onto the parking lot’s black asphalt.

  He saw the wide double doors now and hurried on, shoving several aside with a hip and shoulder as the rain continued to pelt him. He thought about the trouble he would have going back for the man and shut the thought out. Hands groped at his back and arms. Mac twisted and turned as the remaining lunged at them. A burly woman stood in his path. Mac lifted his knee and thrust his foot out, striking her directly in the stomach with his size-eleven boot. She launched backwards and landed two yards away on her plump ass, the back of her head striking the concrete hard. The path was now clear. Mac’s head and shoulders twisted and turned left and right, assessing immediate threats in all directions as he had on patrol in the old days. He had space, but only had a few seconds to get inside. But the door was closed and if he guessed right, it would be locked, too.

  “Help out here!” Mac called, turning to face the door. “Open up!”

  He reached the wide glass entrance and the brief cover of an awning, expecting the doors to slide open. Nothing happened. Blinds were drawn, shutting out any view of the inside. Mac lifted his boot again and gave the doorframe a forceful kick. The entire thing shuddered.

  “Open the FUCKING DOOR!”

  He spun to face the infected. Only two were coming towards him—the surfer, and another man in suit pants and a white shirt heavily stained pink with blood. Others had congregated around the car, and he saw that the man on the back seat had woken, his face pressed against the window in horror.

  Mac banged on the glass with his fist. “Open up, or I’ll break the door down and let these fucking things in!”

  He kicked Surfer in the stomach, who went down in slow motion. Business Man stumbled past his friend, arms stretched in a comical pose of desperation.

  Jessica groaned as Mac laid her against the wall and stepped in front of her, ready to defend her life.

  A clunking noise sounded from behind. Mac turned and saw the doors part. Two people appeared in the dark, narrow gap—a broad-shouldered man with a shaved head, grey beard, and a black leather biker vest. The other was a tall man in a long white jacket, possibly a doctor.

  “I’ve got two sick people, and we’re not going to last long out here.”

  The biker held his arms out. “Give her to me.”

  Mac handed Jess over. “I’ll be back in a moment.”

  They disappeared into the shadows, and the doors slid shut with a metallic thud.

  More infected were almost on him. Mac danced around them as hands grabbed at his upper arms and shoulders. They didn’t have the speed to go with him, their footsteps slow and clumsy. Whatever was wrong with them, their motor skills appeared to be severely reduced.

  Reaching the SUV, three of the infected had surrounded it, slapping their hands against the wet window. Mac grabbed an old man by the shirt and threw him aside. He landed in the garden bed, arms and legs going in every direction. A stringy middle-aged woman shuffled for him, her face covered in bloody pulp, eyes sunk deep into her head and revealing an infatuation with him he’d only wished women had had with him when he was younger. Mac yanked the back door open and slammed it into her. She grunted and collapsed alongside the front wheel.

  The man began to slide out of back seat. The hissing noises of thirst grew louder. More hands caressed Mac’s back and neck as he reached in to help the man out. He threw an elbow behind and dispatched the closest attacker, then took the injured man by the right shoulder and pulled him free. His pale face creased into discomfort as Mac guided him forward away from the SUV.

  A fresh posse of seven or eight infected clambered along the pathway towards them, their formerly clean clothes shredded and dirty, their faces saturated, their hair plastered against their skulls. Their leering expressions and wet mouths beckoned, and there was no question in his mind that the flat, soulless light in their eyes showed a desperation to kill him, just as Neville had done to Leigh Ann. Mac had not anticipated such a rapid escalation. Longing for his sidearm more than ever, he’d have to fight harder to get back to the hospital this time.

  The man stumbled, arms reaching for balance. “Stay with me, buddy,” Mac said. “I need you to give it everything you’ve got until we get into that hospital, okay?” The man nodded.

  Mac stepped up to the first attacker and snapped out a right fist, striking it in the jaw. The thing groaned and fell onto its knees. Another drew close. Mac grabbed its arm and slung it onto the concrete path. He glanced back and found the man was still with him, though Mac had to stall as he caught up a few steps.

  “Stay with me!” Mac reminded him. He thought they had a good chance, the doors only a few steps ahead.

  But two more came at them from the side. Mac waited, then reached up and grabbed a plump Chinese man by the head, drove his knee into his guts and threw him aside. But as he went for the second thing, Mac saw a fresh batch of infected approaching from outside the parking lot, with rabid interest. If they didn’t get through the doors in the next ten seconds, they were dead.

  Looking away, Mac lost his advantage. At the last moment, an infected woman fell forward into his arms. Mac twisted, pushing her aside as cold fingers groped at his throat, but he was off balance, and she tumbled into the man Mac was trying to protect. They ended up in a pile, the woman on top. Bony hands pressed his face down and the man shouted as he fought to wrestle her off. Suddenly there were two of them, then three, and then five, clawing at Mac’s bare skin. He twisted, throwing left and right hooks, then an elbow, followed by more fists. They fell away like bowling pins, one after the other. They might be briefly deterred, but it was as if they didn’t feel pain, and in a few seconds, they were back for more.

  Three of them surrounded the other man. One fell to its knees and bit into his leg. Another fell onto his face.

  Mac knew the man was lost then. He had to focus on his own safety now as three more surrounded him. He shoved them away as he battled forward, punching a kid wearing glasses who couldn’t yet have been eighteen. Blood exploded from his nose and he tumbled aside. Mac watched in disbelief as two new arrivals fell onto the kid and started chewing into his neck and face. He didn’t even scream.

  Mac glanced back a final time at the other man. Five or six of the infected swarmed over him. Mac turned back to the door and ran like a bulldozer, knocking the final three aside. As he reached the entrance, the door slid open and Mac tumbled through the opening and landed on a door mat.

  “Shut it!” someone yelled.

  Mac looked up to find the biker’s face peering down at him. He reached out a
hand and helped Mac to his feet.

  14

  Seth Logie carried the woman through the waiting room to a sofa in the far corner and laid her down. Her eyes were red, her face pale and washed out. Her lips were cracked, indicating to Juliet that she was badly dehydrated and would need an IV set up quickly. She thought the woman was unconscious, until Seth had laid her down and her eyes flickered.

  “Mac?” Her voice was soft and raspy.

  “Deidre, can you get some water, please?” Juliet assumed Mac was the man outside trying to rescue someone else.

  Deidre returned with a cup of cold water. Seth helped the woman sit up. She spat the first sip out but managed to take two swallows after that.

  “He’s almost there,” Bill called out. “Come on, buddy, just a little further.”

  Another minute passed before Bill opened the doors and the man fell through into the hospital. Bill helped him up. He thanked Bill and peered around the room. His eyes rested on the woman, and he hurried to the sofa and crouched by her side. His hair, face, and clothes were wet from the rain.

  “The other one didn’t make it?” Seth asked.

  The man shook his head. “I’m here, Jess,” he said into the woman’s ear. “Right here. We’re at the hospital now. You’re gonna be fine.” He glanced up at Juliet and Seth. “Didn’t think you were going to let us in.”

  “You’re lucky,” Juliet said, handing the man a towel from a nearby chair. He nodded thanks. “We’ve had a few problems of our own today. Those doors were locked for a reason.”

  The man stood and wiped the rain from his face with the towel. He was of average height, with short, blonde-brown hair and a narrow face. He was broad-shouldered, his arms thick, muscly. Green eyes peered back at her confidently.

  “I’m Mac,” he said, holding out his hand to Juliet.

  She shook it. “And I’m Juliet. This is Dr. Logie.” The two men shook hands.

  “Is she gonna be all right?”

  Seth placed a thermometer under the woman’s tongue and then picked up her wrist to measure her pulse. “I could guess her symptoms, but tell me anyway.”

  “It’s some sort of cold or flu. She’s been sneezing, coughing, had a runny nose, quite a few headaches, and a fever.”

  “How long?”

  “Twenty-four hours. Maybe a touch longer. I left her yesterday and she was coherent. When I arrived home this morning she was out of it.”

  Seth considered it all. “I’ll be honest, I don’t really know.”

  “That’s bloody reassuring.”

  Juliet said, “There’s a lot of sick people with the same symptoms at the moment, and there’s no real difference to the normal flu until they die.” Mac raised his eyebrows. “That might sound harsh, but it’s reality. Some people recover, others don’t.”

  “I don’t mind harsh.”

  “You were lucky to make it in here. It’s bad out there, isn’t it?”

  “I was in the military—did two tours of Afghanistan with the Special Forces. Never saw anything like this.”

  “We pronounced a man dead earlier today. I pulled a sheet over him and a few hours later he was chasing people around the waiting room, trying to eat their flesh.”

  “They seem to be everywhere.” Mac’s brow furrowed. “Is that what Jess has got?”

  “I don’t know yet, but I sure hope it’s not.”

  Seth Logie stood up. “She’s stable at the moment. She’s got a temperature and she’s slightly dehydrated. She has a virus, but whether it’s the virus, I can’t be sure.”

  “You can’t tell us whether she has the lethal version?”

  “No. Every year there are a dozen variations of the flu. The symptoms of this new virus and the ones we know are similar all the way through the cycle. The most common influenza virus is A, which has the common subtypes like H1N1 that caused the Spanish flu of 1918 and the swine flu of 2009. The current one killing so many is a variation of that. People think they are just getting the regular influenza virus, the one that has been around in some variation or another forever, but this sucker is harsher. Instead the cycle ending in recovery, they’re dying.”

  “What can I do for Jessica?”

  “Keep her here for now. We’ll watch over her. Maintain her hydration and medicate her with a pseudo hydrochloride equivalent. There are some antivirals that can be effective if given early enough, but it’s too late now. Do you know if she had the flu shot this year?”

  “I think so. But I can’t be sure.”

  “Well, we’re witnessing an increased resistance to the virus in those that have had the flu shot this year and even more so for those who have had it consistently in the past.”

  “I haven’t missed one for twenty years.”

  “Same goes for most of us,” Juliet said. “You said you were in the military. Have you heard anything from any of your contacts?”

  “No, nothing yet,” Mac said. “I’ve been trying to get hold a few people, but they’re unreachable.”

  “I just happened to leave my mobile home before this shift started,” Juliet said. “Are the phones still working?”

  “They’re hit and miss, but even when it does ring, not many are answering.”

  Juliet offered Mac some coffee, and then led them to the kitchenette near the nurse’s station. “When is the government going to respond? They’ve done nothing so far.”

  “I’m not sure there’s much they can do,” Seth said. “I’ll bet most of their employees are sick.” He wiped an arm across his forehead and smudged blood near his hairline. “I mean, if you’d told me a week ago we’d be finding corpses coming back to life, I would have thought you were crazy.” He lowered his tone and whispered, “Maybe I’ve gone crazy.”

  “You haven’t,” Juliet said, putting a hand on his arm. The bags under Seth’s eyes were reminiscent of hers. “I assure you of that.”

  Mac straightened up. “The fact is it’s happening. And we need to deal with it.”

  “True. And for now my priority is to treat these people as best I can with what supplies we have left,” Seth said. “We’re running low on everything, from saline to pain relief.”

  “Can’t you just get more?” Mac asked.

  “Not at this point. The main hospital side is shut off now. Under certain circumstances—a terrorist attack, or breakout of a highly infectious disease, like Ebola—hospital protocol segregates us from the main building. Once activated, it can’t be opened. State-of-the-art technology was only introduced four months ago. The doors between us are locked.”

  “Containment.”

  Seth nodded. “Unless somebody opens a door into the main building, nobody is getting in.”

  “When did you last have contact with them?”

  Juliet said, “Frank Pinelli spoke with them just before it all went bad here. Someone on the other end of the line was yelling for us to close the doors between the two hospitals. After that they were silent.”

  Mac’s expression turned grim. “What was their status prior to that?”

  “A lot of sick people. Influenza admissions have been unusually high this year, but the latest symptoms have been manifesting for a week or so.”

  “What about the aggression? Influenza has never made a person want to kill before. At what stage does that happen?”

  “We’re not sure yet. We know the man we pronounced dead came back highly aggressive.”

  “I saw one of the infected last night,” Mac said. “Apparently, he’d been sick for a week. He was wild, out of control.”

  “There’s so much we don’t know,” Seth said.

  Mac finished the last of his coffee. “I need to leave.”

  “You’re going back out into that?” Juliet scoffed.

  “The kids are with my parents and my father is sick.”

  “Where are they?”

  “Not far usually, but in this mess, who knows how long it will take.”

  “Speaking of rest,” Seth said, turning t
o Juliet. “You need to get some.” She waved him away. “You’ve been working—what—thirty-six hours straight?”

  “I’m all right.”

  Mac’s phone rang. Their expressions reflected shock. He removed it from his pocket and stepped away. “Excuse me.”

  Seth said, “Did you hear Bianca was bitten?”

  Juliet nodded. “It’s unfortunate. No matter what happened between us, I’d never want that to happen to her.”

  “I know.” Seth started away from the kitchenette. “Let’s treat the rest of these people. Then you’re getting some sleep, even if I have to administer you something.”

  15

  Mac stepped away from Seth and Juliet and answered the call. Smitty’s higher-pitched voice greeted him.

  The moment he heard Smitty’s beaten tone, he knew something was wrong. “Where are you?”

  “Still at Dave-O’s. They’re dead, Mac. Both of them.”

  Mac bit down the feeling of loss. “What happened?” Smitty explained that like Leigh Anne, Dave-O had gotten progressively sicker through the night and had collapsed after a long period of severe coughing. “Maybe his heart gave out.” Mac stood in silence, thinking about their mate. “But that’s not all of it.” Mac thought he knew where this was going. He almost wanted Smitty to stop. “He came back, Mac.” His voice was shaky. “Dave-O died and then he came back and tried to kill me.”

  Mac ground his jaw. That fucking virus. It was really happening, and it supported Juliet’s claims about the man at the hospital. “You did what you had to do, Smitty. Nothing more. Dave-O would have done the same.”

  Smitty said, “I was thinking leaving—”

  “Don’t you fucking move. I’m coming by to pick you up. Then we’re going to get my kids. This whole fucking place is a mess.”

  “The street here looks pretty bad, Mac. You sure you wanna come here?”

  “I’ll call you when I’m a few minutes out.”

  Mac hung up and put a call in to his mother. He had a nagging doubt about whether the kids were all right. His mother answered after three rings.