John O'Brien - Chaos

I’m so outta here , I think turning to bolt towards the fire door that stands between me and the stairs. Racing to the door, my light catches the aftermath of the metallic crash. An upended aluminum cart lies on its side at the hallway juncture. Shards of glass on the floor glitters faintly in the light. A beaker rolls in slow circles amidst small metallic shapes scattered about. Three more of the things have rounded the corner running in my direction, the one on the right shrieking loudly. I hear footsteps pounding behind me mixing with those that have now entered the hallway in front of me with more sounding from the hallway around the corner.

I reach the steel fire door at a run, throwing it open and race through it on the fly with those things right on my heels. I can almost feel the warmth from their bodies on my back and hear their breathing seemingly inches away. Launching down the stairs, I keep my light focused on the stairs themselves. This would be the absolute wrong time to trip or stumble. Rounding the corner of the landing and using my hand on the railing to help my turn, one of them enters into my cone of light just ahead on the stairs, having apparently jumped over the railing from the flight of stairs behind me. Too close to bring my M-4 to bear for a shot from the hip, I duck my shoulder and head and slam into its chest knocking it backwards. It flies off the stairs and lands almost to the bottom, close to the second floor landing, hitting the stair with the small of its back, sling-shotting its head backwards to smack into the concrete landing with a sharp, meaty crack. Blood spurts outward from where its head was introduced to the concrete and it slides backward into the concrete brick wall with another, slightly smaller, wet, crack, coming to rest face up. Blood immediately begins pooling outward around its head.

The impact slows my momentum. I feel the brush of a hand against my left shoulder as my feet continue their flight down the stairs, the thing reaching over the stair railing directly beside me. Leaping off the second stair from the landing and over the prone body, I turn quickly in mid-leap facing both the next flight down and the flight I just traversed, thumbing the selector to ‘burst.’ My light flashes to the stairs coming down, my direction reversed. The stairs are completely filled with an ashen gray horde barreling toward me, a few scant feet away.

Just before my feet come into contact with the landing, three rounds exit my M-4 at the nearest one sending it backward into its companions as the steel-core rounds pound into its chest and neck, spraying blood outward. I feel a few warm splashes hit my cheek and forehead. Flashes bounce off the concrete brick walls as my feet contact the landing and gunshots echo loudly in the stairwell, overwhelming the growling emitting from the horde. My second burst slams into the next ghoulish thing setting foot on the bottom stair, spinning it to the right and into the arms of the one behind, gaining me another foot of separation. I launch forward, tearing off down the stairs toward the first floor.

I hit the magazine release button before reaching the third stair down. The magazine clatters down the stairs, its sound of metal bouncing on the concrete mixing with the growling right on my heels. Clearing the bottom of the upward flight of stairs, I grab the hand rail and vault over to the final flight, concentrating on landing square on a stair. Hitting a stair edge could cause a trip, stumble, or twisted ankle and that is something I can’t afford right now. Several shrieks fill the enclosed space as I land with bent knees and race to the fire door. Reaching into my vest pocket, I withdraw a fresh mag and slam it into the receiver. I hit the door at a dead run, slamming into it with my shoulder and spin through the opening. Planting my foot, I shift my momentum toward the emergency room lobby and exit. The first of the many things streaks out of the still opening door before I have taken my second step.

The lobby opens just ahead with the glare of the light outside pouring through the glass doors. I feel something swipe across my back and am jerked backwards slightly, the back of my flight suit in the grasp of a hand for a split second before being released. Fucking A! These things are faster than I am. This may not end well , I think focusing every bit of energy into my legs.

I sweep into the dim grayness of the emergency room lobby, the light growing brighter the closer to the exit I get. Almost across the lobby and to the doors, I slide to my knees, do a 180 across the linoleum, and face back toward the hallway as I slide to a stop bringing the M-4 to my shoulder. The roar of seemingly a thousand shrieks fills the room. The ghostly outlines of gray faces mill agitatedly at the edge of the radiating light. I fire a burst into the milling crowd, concentrating on one face that is thrust toward me, its mouth open and emitting a loud, shrieking roar, and watch its head explode as it falls backward into the darkness beyond.

“Motherfuckers!!! Come and get some you assholes!” I yell back into the gloom. Adrenaline-rushed fear seems to refocus itself towards anger in me once a situation has stabilized to a certain extent.

I rise to my feet and step toward the darkened hallway, firing another burst into one of the dimly outlined bodies only to watch it too launch backward into the darkness. More popping sounds combine with the roar of the crowd beyond as I continue stepping toward them squeezing off bursts. The gunpowder smell once again fills the air, mixing with and then overwhelming the previous stench. My barrel makes slight alterations in the air as I focus on one target after another, cartridges clinking as they bounce across the tiled floor. I reach the halfway point in the lobby and a single, unified shriek sounds out. The ghostly faces disappear seemingly as one. The only sounds are growls and pounding footsteps as they run away down the hallway, diminishing in volume as the darkness swallows them up.

I stop and reload, contemplating chasing after them as my heart pounds from the adrenaline and chase. Sanity prevails, in the darkness and with their number, the advantage is theirs. With a heavy sigh, I stoop to pick up the empty magazine as silence returns to the room. “Well, I’m not going to get any info here,” I mutter crawling out of the door and into the mid-morning light with the aftermath still roaring in my ears.

Stepping out from the entrance shadows, I walk over to the Humvees. The kids stand huddled near the front of the first Humvee, watching my approach. “What the hell was all of that? Did you find anything?” Robert asks.

“Yeah, I found something alright,” I answer.

“What happened, Dad? Are you okay?” Nic asks noticing the splotches of blood on my face.

“Yeah, babe. It’s not mine,” I say wiping my face with my sleeve.

“There sure are enough of those things in there,” I continue realizing I have to pee like crazy as my heart slows to normal and the adrenaline levels decrease.

Taking care of business behind a Humvee, I reload the empty magazine, depleting the remaining ammo in the can, and stick the now full mag back into the vest pocket. “What happened in there?” Robert asks as I finish up and rejoin them.

“Never mind. Let’s head to the flight line. Same thing as before,” I say removing the vest and set it inside.

In the Humvees once again, we turn around and head north after exiting the hospital lot. The tails of C-17s stick up from the buildings as we close in on the flight line and I am still amazed that we haven’t seen a single other soul. I know we can’t be the last ones . Thoughts of Lynn pass through my mind as we take several turns and enter onto the ramp proper. Some of the roads cross taxiways and I drive along them looking at the control tower, fully expecting to see a red or green light flash from the top. The dark, tinted windows stare blankly back.