The Tasmania Trilogy (Book 1): Breakdown Page 18

  “There’s no generator?” Dan asked, slipping a T-shirt over his singlet top.

  “There is, but it’s only a little one we use to keep the freezers going; although, I took it to be repaired because the maintenance man hurt his back, and I left it at home.”

  “Are you going back to get it?”

  “If I don’t, we’ll lose a heap of food.”

  “I need to get across to my grandmother’s house.”

  “You might want to wait. There’s still a lot of infected out there.”

  “And I need to get back to that hospital,” Kumiko said. She felt an underlying sense of worry, that something bad had happened to her parents.

  Jim walked in between them. “I don’t think it’s a good idea for either of you to be going anywhere at the moment. The streets are full of these things. You step outside of these fences and you’re putting yourself at severe risk.”

  “My grandmother might be in her house alone,” Dan said, standing. “I have to find out.”

  “You’re no good to her dead,” Jim said. “At least wait until I get back so I can help.”

  Dan began putting his runners on. “Don’t be long.”

  “I don’t intend to. Are either of you hungry? There’s a little food.”

  Jim had boiled eggs on the gas stove, courtesy of the chickens the school kept in the courtyard. Kumiko wasn’t hungry, but Jim insisted she eat. He made a pot of black tea and she heaped sugar into the water, enjoying the sweetness. How long since she’d eaten? She couldn’t recall. It might have been breakfast the day before. Too much had happened for her to worry about eating. Hunger had a way of fleeing under duress.

  As he sipped black coffee, Dan addressed Jim. “What made you come to the school in the first place?”

  “Truth is, I suspected early on that we might end up like this. I spend a lot of my time at the school, and it was obvious to me it offered excellent protection. I started bringing supplies here and made some other plans.”

  “You put the sign at the roundabout?” Kumiko asked.

  Jim nodded. “You’ve seen how many of these things are walking around. I think it’s only going to get worse.”

  “What about the rest of the world? What do you think has happened out there?” Dan asked.

  “It’s hard to say just how far and wide this thing has really gone,” Jim said. “The news isn’t much help. I know a lot of people that were sick. Many have died.” He swallowed the rest of his egg sandwich. “My daughters are camping somewhere near the central plateau with their mother. So far as I know, they’re fine for now, but if they get into trouble, I’ll have to go on up and collect them.”

  Dan put his coffee down. “I don’t think it’s going to pass any time soon.” Jim raised his eyebrows. “It would be one thing if people were dying, but the dead keep coming back.”

  “I think it’s only a matter of time before the government gets it under control.”

  “I hope you’re right. And I hope all the smart scientists are still alive, because we need a vaccine or cure for this thing.”

  Jim stood from the edge of the desk. “I should get moving. This food won’t stay frozen forever. You’ll need to follow me out and lock the gates after I leave. Otherwise more of those things will get in.”

  Jim disappeared and returned a moment later, handing Dan the shotgun along with three shells. “Single shot.” He handed Kumiko the machete. “Anything gets too close …” She turned it over in her hand. “It might look rusty, but the edge is sharp.”

  Jim went over the plan. They would accompany him to his car; he would drive to the gate. Dan and Kumiko would open the gate to let him out, then close it immediately after he had left. Dan would carry the shotgun and Kumiko the machete.

  The air was still warm as Jim led them over the wooden decking and down the stairs onto the crushed rock pathway. It was still soggy from the rain.

  “Remember,” Jim said, opening his car door, “close the gate the moment I’m through.”

  Dan asked, “How long do you think you’ll be?”

  “Thirty minutes, if all goes well.”

  They both wished him luck. He reversed the car then drove at walking pace towards the entrance. Kumiko went to one side of the double gate, Dan the other. Standing in the front yard of the childcare center on the other side of the road were three infected—two women and a man. They all turned at the sound of gravel crunching under the car’s wheels.

  Dan removed the lock and chain, slid the bolt back, and swung his side of the gate open. Kumiko did the same.

  As they reached their positions at the edge of the driveway, the bushes stirred on the left side of the gate. A head appeared through the brush, then a body, stumbling its way clear. It was a middle-aged woman, wearing a dark, flowery dress, her orange hair tied up in a bun. Her skin was pasty white and riddled with blood-red veins. Her fleshy upper arms jiggled as she moved. Kumiko shuddered at the sight.

  With the entrance wide open, the woman from the bushes started for it. Jim hurried the car through, nodding as he passed over the sidewalk and onto the road. Kumiko shoved her side of the gate closed, scratching it over the rocks. Dan met her and looped the chain through the holes where the gates met then poked the padlock through and snapped it shut.

  Both of them backed away as the infected woman arrived. The others from the childcare center had started across the road towards them.

  “Let’s get back inside,” Dan said.

  There’d be no argument from Kumiko.

  20

  Juliet woke, closed her eyes, and rolled onto her stomach. Sleep called for her like a whisper, the promise of more rest for her aching mind and body. The coarse feel of the blanket on her face brought it all back though. She was in the hospital, and the end of the world was coming. She thought of the others taking care of all the patients and wished she didn’t have to go back to it. But she was one of those people who, once awake, struggled to find sleep again, and the obligation to her job was heavy.

  She rolled back the other way and caught sight of the grey storage lockers across from the bunkbed where nurses and doctors kept their personal items while on duty. She was in the staff sleeping quarters, a place she had rarely gone in the past. A small light hung from one corner, casting the narrow room in a soft glow.

  Juliet had taken a few hours’ sleep after Seth Logie had almost gotten into an argument with her. She had spilled something—or dropped it—and he had pulled the pin on her shift after maybe thirty-eight hours straight—a new record for her. It had felt like she was walking on someone else’s legs in the end. Being that tired was a strange feeling. She’d come in and lay down, not even bothering to slip out of her uniform, and that was all she could remember. She was pretty sure she hadn’t opened her eyes once until waking.

  Pulling the sheet back, Juliet swung her legs off the bed. She felt better. Much better. Like a new woman. How long had she slept? She turned her wrist and saw it was late morning. Not a huge amount of sleep, really, but when you were coming off nothing, it all counted.

  Walking across the cool tiles on unsteady legs, Juliet opened one of the locker doors and peered into the mirror. Black bags sat under her bloodshot eyes. Her blonde hair was messy and uptight. She still looked like shit, but who cared anymore? The time for vanity had passed. Life was about survival now.

  From a water machine in the corner, she took a cup and filled it with cool liquid from a giant bottle. She gulped it down, surprised at her thirst, and did the same again. She sat on the bed, pulled on her sneakers, then stood and stretched her weary body.

  At the door, she turned the handle and pulled on it, but the thing shuddered, unwilling to budge. She tried again. Locked. She leaned against it and pushed harder on the handle, but still it would not open.

  Somebody must have locked the door from the outside. An uneasy feeling washed over her. It was unusual for such a thing to occur. Juliet scanned the table with her other personal items for her keys,
but they were empty. What had she done with them? She had given her car keys to the soldier—Mac—but had removed her hospital and house keys. Where were they now?

  She placed her ear against the door and listened for noises outside. It sounded eerily silent. The sleeping quarters were a long way from the waiting room. Normally, staff would be walking back and forth outside, although these weren’t normal circumstances. She might be stuck in there.

  Juliet opened the closest locker. Empty. She tried another and found some basic women’s toiletries and a change of clothes, but no keys. One of the garments might have been Bianca’s. She tried three more lockers and none had what she wanted. She turned in a circle, searching the room for options. Breaking the handle off was one, but that was no guarantee it would open. She walked back to the door and tried it again, but it didn’t budge. She pounded on it—not with all her force, but enough to rouse somebody if they were nearby.

  Listening for voices, she noticed three keys on a ring at her feet. Someone must have slipped them under the door. Such had to be a deliberate action, probably with the intent to keep people out, while allowing her to leave when she needed to do so. They were trying to protect her.

  She bent, scooped the keys up, and inserted the one she recognized into the lock. It clicked once, and she was able to push down on the handle and open the door. She stuck her head out, peering either way along the corridor. To her left, it led to the main hospital building that had been segregated due to the lockdown, and to her right, the main waiting room of the ER. She listened for voices and the soft movement of people, but the place was quiet. A tingling sensation on the back of her neck warned her to be cautious.

  Letting go of the door, she stepped out and started along the corridor, still listening carefully. An open doorway came up on her left and as she approached, she pushed herself close to the wall and stuck just her head around the frame to look in.

  It was empty. The bed was neat, the floor and benches clear. Originally, they had placed two dead bodies there but had moved them to hold the patients while they cleaned the main waiting room. Juliet found the same thing in the next room.

  The third door was locked. She stood there for a long moment, debating whether to open it. Two possibilities beckoned. First, the same scenario that applied to her had been used to protect someone else. Second, the room—which had previously been used to store the dead—held someone or something they didn’t want to get out.

  She stuck the key into the lock and turned. The door handle released, and she pushed it down then slowly opened the door, leaving the key in the lock in case she needed to secure it quickly.

  There was a dead body on the floor—a man in a white coat. Despite his face being turned away, it was unquestionably Frank Pinelli, her one-time boyfriend. A bloody pool spread across the floor from a wound on his head. Juliet’s hand began to shake. She stepped through the doorway, unable to believe it was him, and approached. His lower body was twisted, his arms spread out to the sides. As much as she had hated Frank at times, never had she wished for this. She squatted beside him and leant forward, looking closer at his face. His skin was pale, almost washed out. His eyes were bloodshot, and a red stain marked his chin below thin lips. She examined the rest of him and stopped on his fingers. They were dark, almost dirty, the fingernails filled with gore.

  A feeling had been rising in her, and now it hit with full force. Frank was infected. Had been infected. There had been an altercation of some kind, and he’d been struck on the head and killed. Where was the person who had killed him? Juliet turned away from Frank and searched the room. She jumped with fright and let out a cry. There was a woman sitting in the corner behind the door, knees drawn to her chest. She was holding a length of polished steel that might be part of an IV drip stand. It took Juliet a moment to realize it was Mac’s wife, Jessica.

  Juliet stood and went to her. Jessica’s eyes followed. Her blonde hair was wet, and there were bloody smudges around her throat and on her forehead—finger marks, maybe. “Are you all right?”

  She nodded, but her eyes were skittish and they darted to Franks’ body. “I think so.”

  “What happened?”

  Jessica sat up and recounted the story with a shaky voice. The other doctor—Seth Logie—had moved her to this room. Her fever was down, but she hadn’t eaten or drunk enough fluids for days, and so felt lethargic. She’d lay there for a while before finally falling asleep mid-morning. She woke and was heading for the bathroom when Frank entered the room. There was blood around his mouth and although he didn’t look sick, there was madness in his eyes. She talked to him, but his response was garbled. She couldn’t understand. He drew closer, and she stumbled backwards, but there was nowhere to go. He attacked her, locking his hands around her shoulders as he fought to draw her close, his teeth clicking as his mouth opened and closed. She kneed him in the groin and thought she’d escape, but he hooked a hand around her leg and she went down. He tried to bite her neck, but she managed to wriggle free and then they fought on the floor as she tried to reach the door. In knocking over the IV stand in the corner, the stand fell apart and Jessica used part of it kill him. She let out a long, jagged sigh when she finished.

  Juliet placed a hand on her shoulder. “Jesus, you were lucky. What about everyone else?”

  “I don’t know. After I killed him, I locked the door.”

  “Stay here,” Juliet said, standing. “I’ll be back.” She left the room, closing the door.

  The hallways were still quiet as she drew closer to the main waiting room. That was the scariest part. There should have been voices or the sound of people moving about. Instead, her rubber-soled shoes squeaking on the floor were the dominant noise.

  Juliet forced herself to walk the last fifteen feet without stopping. She turned the corner and entered the room, freezing at the edge, horrified by the scene before her. Her breath came in a tight ball of disbelief. Her mouth dropped. She dared not move, paralyzed by the sight.

  Bodies were strewn all over the room. Such was the carnage it was difficult to distinguish all the people. Yesterday, the room had been alive with people. Now, there was only the disfigured and ruined corpses of the dead. Their bodies had been ripped apart and eviscerated. Blood splattered every surface, the chairs, the floor, even the curtains and the windows, catching Juliet’s eye in bright horror. Even the administration window had long, red splashes. She spotted Seth Logie, one of the few identifiable, at the edge of the massacre, his neck bent at an impossible angle, his arms raised as though fighting something off. Juliet swallowed a lump of sadness. Seth had been a wonderful colleague and friend. Juliet felt herself stagger and leant against the back of a sofa, careful to avoid the blood.

  Somehow, she had missed it all. Her sleep must have been incredibly deep. She imagined the brutality of their deaths. She had witnessed blood and gore in her time, but this made her stomach turn. How had it happened? Somehow, the infected had got inside the building—or they had come from within?

  She fished the key ring out of her pocket. Whoever had locked her door, she owed a life debt. She examined the keys. They appeared similar to her set, though a small silver identification tag hung off the main ring. On it were the initials SL. Seth Logie. He had locked her door and slid his keys underneath. Tears filled her eyes, blurring her vision. She couldn’t count all the times Seth had been nice to her. When Frank had moved on to Bianca, Seth had cheered her up. He’d been the one texting her funny jokes and making fun of her enemies. He had once asked her out on a date, and she had politely declined. Still, it hadn’t altered his behavior. He had treated her with a class and consideration almost unlike anything she’d experienced. As time had gone on, she wondered whether her knockback had been the right choice. She would miss him deeply.

  Juliet started around the edges of the room, looking for other people she might know. It was difficult to meet their sightless, staring eyes. An inner voice told her to get out of there, and she knew she would;
cleaning the mess up was a useless endeavor.

  She almost tripped over Bianca lying beneath a cleaning trolley. When Juliet pulled it away, she sucked in air. Chunks of Bianca’s neck and face had been torn away, revealing the soft flesh underneath. It was a gruesome sight. She snatched up a handful of cleaning cloths and laid them out over Bianca’s face and upper torso, then stumbled away. There was no delight in the woman’s death. Regardless of what she had done, Juliet would not have wished these circumstances on anybody.

  She found Deirdre on the far side of the room, lying beside a teenage boy who had his throat ripped out. She didn’t appear to have any bite marks, but when Juliet slid to her knees and rolled her friend over, Deirdre’s head rested at an odd angle. Broken neck. Juliet lowered her head and closed her eyes. Tears spilled down her cheeks. Deirdre had been there during the difficult times. She was her confidant, an advisor, someone Juliet had relied on for good advice. She also had a sense of humor that would keep them all going down the stretch of a long shift. She was a wonderful person. The world needed more of her kind. The emptiness in Juliet’s stomach was sickening.

  There had been so much death in the last few days. She was used to it, but not on this scale, and not her friends. Tara was probably somewhere in the group, too. Juliet glanced up, as if to look, then averted her eyes. She didn’t want to know.

  A noise sounded down one of the passageways leading from the waiting room. Juliet froze after turning and saw a tall shadow moving along the far wall. Whoever owned the shadow was coming towards her, and instinct told her she may not want to meet them. She gently slid Deirdre off her lap and climbed to her feet, then picked her way through the carnage to a clear space near the wall. Her heartbeat was elevated and she had to stop herself from running, knowing it would alert the person and place her at greater risk. There was a good chance this person had been responsible for one or more of the deaths.