The Real Night of the Living Dead (17 page)

We were all standing with Hank now, as he placed the guns on a table beside the cabinet. There were five revolvers and four rifles. As he began unloading the boxes of ammo onto the table, I noticed how quiet it was. I realized, for the first time all night, the rain had stopped.

“Are you coming with us?” Hank said to Eugene.

“Where were you boys headed?”

“Across Southampton Road.
To the children’s camp,” said Hank.

“Why don’t we do this, I’ll head to N-7 and take the patient here with me. You two can continue on with your original plan.”

Hank said, “I suggest that we should be the only ones carrying any weapons.”

“Why?” said Eugene.

“’Cause this guy here,” motioning his head toward me, “is a
Holmesburg
convict.
And this loon is a patient.”

I gazed hard at Hank. I knew that mug wanted to kill me, and the first chance he had he would try. I made a mental note to be prepared for anything he may do.

“That’s ridiculous,” said Eugene. “He’s been running around all night, protecting anyone he came across that needed the help. Am I right?” Hank hesitated,
then
nodded. “Give him what’s needed. I can understand not giving anything to the patient, but this young man here…we need him.”

The overweight guard, full of hatred, slid two revolvers in my direction. He said, as we exchanged glares, “Watch where you aim them. Get me?”

“Of course,” I said.

“They’re loaded,” said Hank. “I’ll hang onto the ammo. I have a satchel that I keep them in.”

I checked to be sure. He was right. They were both loaded.

Hank chuckled as he said, “What’s wrong? You don’t trust me?”

“Damn straight on that,
bub
,” I said. I tucked the revolvers in my waistband.

The professor stood, his flat skinny wrinkled rear hanging out the back of the gown, watching the two security guards load their guns and satchels with ammo, preparing for the dangerous journey.

I walked to the phone, deciding to give it a try. My eyes lit up as I said, “The phones are back.” I got the operator to connect me to the police department.

A woman’s voice on the other end said, “How can I help you?”

I was talking fast, tripping over my own words. I was so excited to hear someone who wasn’t a part of this mess, someone who would be able to help us. I calmed down and started over, saying, “Listen, we have a major disaster here in
Byberry
.
At the hospital.”

“We know,” said the voice. “We received a call a minute or two ago. We’ve sent a car there. Give him about twenty minutes.”

“No, no, you don’t understand. One car’s not going to do it. This place is like Armageddon right now. You better send anyone available.”

“Who is this?”

“I’m an attendant working at the hospital. People have been murdered. And more are in danger of being murdered.” I raised my voice. “Now please, send some goddamn help, sister. This place is being overrun with killer psychos.”

She got the message and said she would send more help. I hung up and called the extension at S-3, the main building at the children’s camp where Clara was scheduled to work this evening. A woman answered. “Hello?”

“Clara?” I said.

“No,” she said. “Who is this?”

“Where’s Clara?” I was anxious to hear her voice. To hear it, just to know that she was okay.
That she was still alive and not one of them.
“Put Clara on the phone.”

“She’s busy.”

“Is she okay?”

“She’s fine. Who is this?”

“It’s
Veimer
.
One of the attendants.
Is everyone safe there?”

“Well, some of the patients escaped from the other buildings. They attacked us. So we gathered who we could and locked ourselves in our ward.”

“What do you mean they attacked you?”

“A few of us were bitten…”

Chapter Twenty-seven

My heart dropped. “Who was bitten?” I said.

“Me…a few of the children…”

“What about Clara? Was Clara bitten?”

“What? No…they tried to, but I think she’s fine. She’s bandaging the children’s bite wounds.”

I cut her off, saying, “Listen,
put
her on the phone.”

“No, I just explained to you, she’s busy at the moment.”

“This is no game, lady. You’re in danger…”

“Yes, we realize that. That’s why we are locked in the ward. The escaped patients are outside. We are safe inside.”

“Goddamn it, I’m talking about you and anyone else who was bitten. You’re sick.
Infected.
You need to take everyone who was
bitten,
you included, and lock yourselves in a separate room or something.”

“This is ludicrous,” said the nurse. “I don’t know who you are, but this conversation is over. We’re extremely busy here…”

“Listen…”

“No, you listen. Yes, we were bitten, but we are nurses and are trained to deal with treating wounds such as these. These are minor wounds, you understand…”

“Sister, I’ve seen a man walking around with his insides hanging out. These
ain’t
no
minor wounds we’re talking about here.”

Then she hung up the phone.

I turned to the three men and said, “They reached the other side.”

“Well, hell,” said Hank, “we may as well forget about heading over there.”

“No,” I said. “I’m going. I’ll go by myself if I have to.”

We began to hear faint moans in the distance.

“The plan stays the same,” said Eugene, looking at us with one good eye. “Hank, you go with him, you say your name is
Veimer
?” I nodded. “Yeah, go with
Veimer
to the camps. We got kids in the hundreds there that need our help. If we’re lucky, the police will arrive and be able to assist us.”

The guards were ready. They each had a satchel, that was loaded with ammo, over their shoulder, revolvers in their holsters, and each of them was holding a rifle.

Eugene looked like a soldier just returning from battle with that bandage around his eye and the blood beginning to seep through.

I looked worse. My shirt was torn. I had scratches here and there, a black eye, two busted lips, and blood, from who knows how many people, splattered over my clothes.

The professor didn’t look too bad. He was wet from the rain, as were
me
and Hank. If anything, the poor guy just needed some clothes.

Hank’s face was bruised, and his nose was broken from the beating I gave him a while ago. He looked tired too, like he needed to sleep for twelve hours.

Then the thumping started on the back wall of the guard house.
 

Eugene said, “Okay, listen up,
Hank,
you take the lantern on the desk, in case the power goes out again.” Hank nodded. “There’s another in the back office. I’ll grab that one.” His gaze went to each of us. “Are we ready, boys? It’s about time to go.”

Eugene started for the back office.

I turned back to the broken window, making sure the creatures weren’t making their way inside.

Then there was an echoing bang, and my eardrums were ringing.

My head spun around to see the back of Eugene’s head missing, and Hank’s revolver aimed at my face.

Chapter Twenty-eight

I was frozen.

I pictured Clara, crying, surrounded by these monsters, and them tearing her to pieces; some of them, biting into her flesh, ripping off mouthfuls, as she gets drenched in her own blood.

I saw all my struggles to reach her coming to a halt.

I closed my eyes.

I heard the thumping and moaning grow louder.

There was a crash.

I opened my eyes to see the professor fighting with Hank for the revolver.

The professor was skinny and weak. Hank shoved him to the side and he fell to the floor, but that was all I needed. By the time Hank’s attention was back on me, I was already tackling him.

He pulled the trigger as we fell. A bullet hit somewhere behind me.

“
Youse
think I’m going on some suicide mission,” shouted Hank in my face, as we scuffled on the floor. “Not me. I’ll kill
youse
all before I go down.”

The infected were crawling in through the broken window. I could hear them. Their moans right behind me made the hairs on my neck stand.

I banged Hank’s hand against the cabinet and didn’t stop until he dropped the revolver.

Out the corner of my eye, I could see the professor grabbing a revolver from Eugene’s dead body. He started firing at the creatures, but I could tell he never held a gun in his life. He held it like he was afraid it was going to blow up in his hand.

I landed a couple of blows to Hank’s face, giving birth to a few more bruises, but he was determined to reach his gun. He couldn’t reach the one in his holster, as I was lying on top of him, so he kept stretching his arm up, trying to wrap his fingers around the fallen revolver.

Then someone grabbed my shirt from behind me, and I heard the moans and smelled the rotting flesh and the hot dead breath flowing down my neck and back.

My eyes glanced up and saw the professor pointing the gun at me. I watched as he pulled the trigger. I flinched at the sound of the bullet firing and flinched again when it grazed my ear and hit the walking corpse behind me in the face.

“We must flee, Mr.
Veimer
,” said the professor, fear was showing in his face as he continued to aim, holding the gun as steady as he could, and fire.

For that split second, I released my grip on Hank. When I gazed back down at him, he was wrapping his fingers around the stray revolver.

My hand reached for the gun in my waistband. I pulled it up, as Hank was bringing his revolver in my direction, and fired two shots that landed in his round belly. He grunted as he dropped to his side.

I stood and grabbed the revolver out of his hand, then picked up his satchel of ammo from the floor and threw it over my shoulder. I turned to the professor and said, “Me and you, Professor. Let’s go.”

“Do you want the firearm back?” he said.

“
You kidding
me? You saved my life. It’s yours, pal.”

I turned back to see two creatures dead on the floor, five more moving toward us, and another climbing through the broken window.

I began firing at the closest ones. They moaned as they reached out for us. All of them were covered with bites and blood, and most of them were women. It was obvious now; these were victims of the original patients from N-3 who were injected with the failed polio vaccine. They were from the buildings in the women’s group, and I was afraid to think of how many were waiting for us outside this house. But we would find out, soon enough.

The three closest to us were now dead on the floor. We began walking toward the door, our escape.

Hank shouted, “No, you can’t leave me. Help me. I need help.”

We ignored him and continued firing at the two approaching us. I brought down one with a single shot, but the professor was a horrible shot. He fired two bullets into the infected woman’s neck and shoulder.

She reached out toward him, moaning. Her yellow eyes glued to his face.