Marcus Caine - The Last Words

There were a few stragglers on other floors, and they all appeared affected, stumbling around like dumb animals, chanting those damn words. One of them even seemed to be gnawing on the remains of a person, but it was hard to tell what it was. Jesus. But everything seemed clear around the back where my people were. My people. What had happened to my platoon? I couldn’t remember. Were they alive? Shake it off, can’t think about that right now, I’ll just read my journal later, when things are secure and there’s time. I felt it with my hand, rolled up and tucked into my pants, my paper brain, my only way to remember.

Then I saw her. A lone one, but definitely affected. Walking towards the back where the next load of patients would be coming down soon. Shit.

I ran, quietly, but fast, to head her off before she saw anything. Would she call the others? How did this…sickness, affliction, whatever…work?

Unfortunately, I heard the answer to my question.

As the elevator opened with the last group of survivors, I guess that’s what they are now, her chanting suddenly got loud and she screamed before I could get to her and cut her throat. She was the first woman, no, female, that I had had to kill, and I didn’t feel good about it, even if I knew it had to be done. She went down but it was too late, I could hear others running, yelling, chanting, heading our way. So they did communicate to some degree.

“Run! Now!” I yelled. They ran, even the ones who had barely been shuffling. But some of them were slow and I tried to speed them up, grabbing an older man by the arm.

“Come on. Run, dammit!” He didn’t speak but he was worried.

We got through the door and Eric slid a broom he had secured from the cleaning closet, guess he wanted a weapon, through the handle. That would last only a minute or two.

“Out the door. Out the door,” I hollered.

We were out and I gave the keys to the Doctor so he could get them across as I grabbed Tim Tom.

“Stay back with me, I’ll need help.”

I remembered that he couldn’t understand my words, but I could tell he knew what I meant. We would deal with the affected if they followed.

The space between buildings was small, but it seemed like miles with a crowd of crazies at our backs.

Through the gate and into the other building the last of the patients made it, and luckily none of the affected were outside where they could see us.

Oops, spoke too soon. A group of them hadn’t gone around the building to check out the explosion, but at least they were now on the other side of two tall chain link fences topped with razor wire. I would like to say there was no way they were going to get through that, but it looked like they were going to try anyway.

One of them climbed right up and into the razor wire. Getting tangled and cut but still trying. Writhing and thrashing like an animal caught in a trap. Screaming, not in pain, but in pure unfiltered rage at not being able to get to us. And did the others learn from his mistake? No, three more crawled right in, not even trying to go over him, crawling up in different spots and meeting the same fates. Squirming and bleeding and screaming. OK, they weren’t too bright, that was clear now, but they were fierce as fuck.

Tim Tom and I were staring, dumbfounded, when we heard the other group get through the door in the other building and, knowing there was only fence between them and us, we hurried into our new little home, the Kirby Forensic Center.

We found no affected in the Forensic Center, thank God, since Tim and Jude were behind us. But, I did have my syringes full of tranquilizers and ready just in case. I suspected we might have better luck here if the affected were as lacking in intelligence as they seemed to be so far.

Every ward and every floor here had multiple security gates, and all the patients’ rooms were locked from the outside. This was, after all, where the criminally insane (yes, I know) from various districts in New York were kept either awaiting trial when they are declared fit for trial, or, after trial, when they were declared not guilty by reason of insanity. Here were the murderers and rapists and cannibals too ill to be held accountable for their monstrosities. I know that as a neurologist, and as a psychiatrist, I was supposed to have more sympathy for these poor sick souls, but, let’s face it, there’s a reason I chose to specialize in neurological disorders and not forensic psychiatry.

“Everything clear in here?” Jude asked. He was in now, the thick door closed and locked behind him, the small window in it shatter proof. That alone would hold a crowd for a time. “Where is the security office here?” Of course. Jude was always thinking, clear and confident under pressure.

“Close.”

We made it without incident as Timothy stayed behind to watch the rest of our group. The cameras were still on. And it looked like everyone was still where they should be.

Jude scanned for less than a minute, “OK, this floor looks like it has the fewest wanderers. And it’s only two flights up.”

There were a few orderlies, and a nurse, five people in all, stuck on the floor, unable to get out now that they had forgotten how their badges would unlock the doors.

“We can clear them out and move our people in there while we check out the rest of the building.”

“Clear them out?”

Of course, I knew what he meant.

“Kill them, Doc.”

“Of course. What about those who might be in the rooms?”

“The patients? Are the rooms locked?”

“Yes, definitely.”

“If the electricity goes out will the rooms stay locked?”

“Yes. The locks remain locked even during a disaster and can be opened manually with… well,” I pointed at the key-ring on the wall, “probably with some of those keys there.”

“And the gates and other security doors?”

“Yes, all on that ring I’m sure. And my badge will get us through as long as the power is on.”

“OK, well if the patients are locked in and can’t get out then we’ll worry about them when we need to, if ever.”

I left it at that, not pointing out that they will eventually starve if we don’t do something. But at least I knew they had sinks and toilets in their rooms so I didn’t’ have to worry about that for now.

I went in with Joe first and we cracked some heads. I hesitated when a woman came at me though, and had to fight her off when she started trying to chew my face off. But Joe got her off. At first I assumed he’d killed her, but then I saw the syringe in his hand. He shrugged. I guess the Doctor had talked him into having a little mercy, though I wasn’t really sure that was a good idea.

When it was clear and we brought the rest of our group in we put her in one of the empty rooms. Luckily most of them were empty, but not all. I found that out the hard way.

Near the back when I was looking through the window in each room one of them, I guess he was crazy like everyone else, started slamming into the door, screaming something. I just froze, watching this guy, slamming his face into the little reinforced window until it cracked and he was leaving blood on it, but he just kept going, slamming his head harder and harder until it suddenly stopped. I stood there, then I saw blood seeping from under the door. Jesus H.

The others, I don’t think they were affected by whatever was going on. They just watched me through the windows. Some of them trying to talk to me, some of them just staring, which was much worse, from the far corner of the room. I knew this was where they kept the really dangerous ones. But I didn’t know how we were gonna tell which ones had gone crazy from the, um, sickness, and which ones were already crazy. I also didn’t know if it mattered.