The Phoenix Trilogy (Book 1): World On Fire (27 page)

    Every
step she took deeper into the surrounding crowds filled her with a sense of
growing dread. It was silly; compared to the world that wait outside these
walls, she knew she was better off. Despite that certainty, she disliked being
so near to others. People were harder to deal with than the zombies were, not
because they were more dangerous, but because they were less predictable.

    The
undead were vicious, but mindless. If they caught you, you knew exactly what
fate awaited. With people, there was no telling who your friends or enemies
were until they decided to show their true colors. Even if you knew they were
trouble, a human danger held more variables for torment. Would they make it
quick, or would they do worse things, before it was over?

    Natalie
visibly shuddered, her wandering mind leading down dark roads as she dodged
between an increasing number of refugees on the way to her destination. She was
painfully aware of how close their bodies were to hers, the space between
squeezing slowly tighter until it was becoming harder for her to breathe. Just
as panic began to crest within her, it was over.

    Natalie
abruptly found herself standing out from the crowd in the middle of a
crossroads, just as Lia had said. Behind her, the crowd was taking careful
precautions to avoid stepping too near this one road, hugging tightly together
as they went about their business. Natalie hadn’t been hallucinating her
claustrophobic experience; the crowds constricted noticeably here, all to avoid
taking the path that Natalie now had to wander alone.

    She
took two steps forward, vaguely wondering if crowds were better than whatever
lay ahead, before a dozen armed men and women appeared from the walkways and
buildings above her. Whispering a silent thanks to Lia for warning her about
this ahead of time, Natalie beat the guards to their question.

    “Natalie
Peterson, reporting for assignment!” The words came out perfectly professional,
though the silence that followed didn’t give Natalie much to work with. She
felt a bit of pride at finally sounding like she knew what she was doing, even
if it didn’t seem to matter. BJ would have been proud.
And Marco would have
made fun of me. Rico… probably would have teased me too, actually.

    Natalie
missed them already, even Marco. It felt odd, given how little time they had
actually spent together. Maybe she made friends more easily when she was on the
constant razor’s edge of death, who knew? Could be that she just needed to be
busy and that was all she really missed, though she didn’t believe that for a
second.

    Running
with BJ’s crew had been about more than survival, at least to her, and more
than just staying preoccupied. Even if the things they encountered made her
sick, it still felt like the right place for her to be.

     As
the gates ahead of her opened and an armed guard came to greet her, she found
herself hoping that she would find a similar satisfaction behind these doors.
That dream was dashed the moment the guard gestured for her to raise her arms.
He was going to search her, of course, and that meant finding the gun in her
coat pocket.

    Natalie
didn’t resist his orders, doing as she was told once again. They were in a
public enough place that she held no worries of sexual assault, especially when
she had a very real problem about to be upon her. The most she could think to
say, just as the guard’s hand fell over her pocket and discovered her weapon,
was that she had smuggled it in herself. BJ might have pull here, but she
couldn’t help but feel as if he would be in trouble if she revealed he was
responsible for arming refugees.

    Then
the moment passed, and the guard patting her down said nothing. Natalie didn’t
understand; she knew he had felt it, there was no doubt in her mind, but he
remained perfectly neutral. Instead, he turned and motioned for her to follow
him inside.

    “Do
I need to be worried about that?” The man didn’t look at Natalie as he spoke,
but it was obvious what he was referring to. Just as she glanced up at him, her
eyes lighting with worry, he snapped under his breath, “Eyes forward and act
natural.”

    That
confirmed it. He did find the gun, but he didn’t seem in a hurry to confiscate
it. For whatever reason, he was allowing Natalie to continue onward, armed.
Provided she was willing to assuage his fears, at any rate.

    “No,
you don’t have to worry.” Natalie had done just as he said, keeping her eyes
set straight ahead as they walked inside. The guard beside her grunted his
approval, but Natalie felt uneasy.

    “Why
aren’t you reporting me?” She knew it wasn’t wise to look a gift horse in the
mouth, but she was better off knowing the truth than risking the possibility
that she was getting herself indebted to somebody for unknown reasons. Her
question provoked a growl from her escort, but to her relief, it wasn’t aimed
at her.

    “I’ve
always believed a young woman should carry, even more so now that the world has
become this… this goddamn nightmare. I’m not about to go taking away the one
thing you’ve got to keep yourself safe. So long as you follow the rules, I
don’t think anybody is gonna disagree with me.” He stopped neatly in a
practiced fashion that told Natalie he had done this routine countless times,
before pointing to a ragged looking tent nearby. The entry to the medical
pavilion, at last. “Doc is inside. Best hurry along, little lady.”

    Natalie
stepped away, preparing to follow her orders once again, before stopping short.
Instead, she turned around and offered her hand to the soldier.

    He
was an older man, grizzled and likely an ex-cop, sporting a particularly bushy
mustache with eyebrows to match. She couldn’t say she was a fan of being called
“little lady,” but he had helped her, and she had been taught to show her
respect. A wisp of a smile cracked from underneath his facial hair, but he took
her hand and gave it a firm squeeze nonetheless. Satisfied, Natalie left him
alone to go and explore her new place of business.

    Giving
the entryway a cursory glance, she realized she wasn’t sure if its condition
was more or less than her expectations. The tent was shabby enough on the
outside, but the moment she pushed back the flap, she understood why she had
been accepted into the medical area even with her limited knowledge.

    There
were maybe five other people working, though the vast amount of blood that
seemed to cover every human being in the place made it challenging to discern
who was doctor and who was patient. Few had legitimate face masks, having been
forced to scrounge for whatever materials might suit their purpose well enough.
Most weren’t even wearing surgical gloves or scrubs.

    The
room was tightly wound with nervous energy, and seemed on the tipping point of
absolute bedlam. It wasn’t until a grimy woman who looked as if she hadn’t
slept in days turned to address her that Natalie realized she was looking at
the head of the medical ward.

    “You’re
not bleeding, you don’t look sick, and you’re not already screaming orders.
Sweet Christ, tell me you’re my new help.” The sudden release of tension, and
obvious wave of pure and palpable relief, caused a reflexive cringe in Natalie.
If things were as bad as they looked, she doubted she’d be of enough use to
really put a dent in the doctor’s worries. Still, she had been given her orders
and would do what she could.

    Loath
to admit out loud how inexperienced she really was, Natalie simply nodded her
head to confirm that she was there to help. The doctor, who appeared to have a
pair of goggles adhered firmly to her head, nearly yelled in triumph at the
news. Natalie wasn’t able to read her face, as most of it was obscured by a
ragged bandana, but it was obvious she was immensely pleased. Her stomach tied
another knot.
Ahh, lady. I’m gonna have some bad news for you…

    With
almost violent enthusiasm, the doctor removed Natalie’s gear and motioned for
her to follow her around the ward. Without turning to see if Natalie had indeed
fallen in line, she began to rattle off line after line of medical jargon, her
hands gesturing wildly as they passed from bed to bed. In the span of what had
felt like a single heartbeat, Natalie had completely lost track of what was
happening. The only thought she was able to focus on was a sudden and profound
new respect for nurses.

    “Any
questions?” Apparently satisfied that she had given an adequate introduction to
Natalie’s new duties, the doctor had spun about to address her directly. What
followed was a brief moment of dull eye contact, as Natalie tried to think of
something, anything, that she might be able to say. She did not succeed, and
the look of hopeful enthusiasm in the doctor’s eye dimmed.

    “You
didn’t understand a word of what I just said, did you.” Though the words came
as a question, Natalie knew that there was no uncertainty here. She was out of
her element, and she suspected even the half-awake patients knew it, too. After
shaking her head and attempting what Natalie could only assume were deep-breathing
exercises, her potential new employer shrugged half-heartedly.

    “Start
over, then. I’m Doctor Mejhit, and if your papers were correct, you’re Natalie
Peterstone. Now we know our names, tell me what you can do.” Natalie nearly
winced at her last name being recorded incorrectly, but decided not to bother
fixing the mistake. Things were already unraveling pretty quickly without
adding more fodder to the flames.

    “I
know CPR and I took a First Aid course.” She paused, remembering what Marco had
said to her the other day. “And I’ve put down a couple of walkers. Dealt with
more, but killed at least two.”

    Natalie
was glad she chose to add the second half of her credentials. The doctor had
clearly lost interest initially, but as she mentioned having handled the undead
before, the flicker of hope rekindled.

    “You’re
saying you have been close to them? More importantly, that you kept your cool
long enough to deal with them?” There was an unsettling look on the doctor’s
face, though Natalie was unable to puzzle it out before she continued speaking.

    “That’s
something I can actually work with. Come here.” Mejhit made no effort to
explain herself as she walked away, and Natalie didn’t ask questions. As wary
as she was of Mejhit’s sudden change in attitude, she was willing to take any
opportunity she could to do something useful.

    As
Natalie was led through conjoining tents, she began to realize that while it
was obvious the medical teams were grossly understaffed, they did have more
members working than she had initially believed. Many glanced up from their
duties as she passed, their eyes darkening as they seemed to realize where
Natalie was being taken.

    Before
long the air was filled with the stench of the deeply ill; those cases that had
proved so desperate or terminal that their fate had already been decided.
Mejhit, now seeming remarkably cold, wrenched aside a set of ragged drapes to
reveal a recently-turned patient strapped into their stretcher. The job was
done so efficiently that, even as the beast attempted to thrash in its
bindings, it appeared frozen in place.

    “Deal
with him.” Mejhit’s tone came off as almost bored, but Natalie wasted no time.
There was a knife on a nearby table, the red flecked over its cold edge
suggesting that this was exactly its purpose. Palming the blade and approaching
her target, Natalie felt deeply calm.

   It had
been a long time since she had been able to approach a zombie on her own terms,
and she found herself experiencing a curious form of clinical detachment.

    Mejhit
had said this was a male, but as usual, it was nearly impossible to tell by
face alone. Where the straps crossed over its body, the flesh had been peeled
away to reveal the muscle and bone beneath. A far off portion of her mind was
reminded of stripping the skin from chicken before dinner, and she fought down
a sudden urge to vomit.

    Instead,
she tried to focus on her short time with BJ and the others. She had to kill
the ghoul, but how she did it was the real test. Trying to go through the skull
would just dull the blade and risk losing control of her cut. The eye sockets
would work, probably, but it felt messy. A small and bitter smile tugged at her
lips as she pondered the necessity for keeping the murder of another human being
“tidy,” but it didn’t last.

    This
was not a human being any longer, and she was not committing murder. This was a
mercy, if anything. Forcing herself to stiffen her resolve, Natalie realized
she wasn’t certain if she truly believed that. In the end, she knew that it
didn’t really matter; she had a job to do, and she would see it through to its
finish no matter what.

    Rather
than allowing herself to contemplate the true morality of her actions, Natalie
opted to instead refocus on how best to perform her execution, the grim
implications of her casual approach to violence being shoved aside as she
examined her options once again. The knife lacked efficiency, a thought that
only chilled Natalie’s stomach for a second before being replaced with a deluge
of murderous alternatives.

    
If
all I have to do is wreck the brain, then I could do something small and neat.
But…
Natalie’s eyes roamed the zombie’s face as it tried to wriggle free of
its bonds, its breath coming in heaving gasps as it continued with its attempts
to escape from captivity.