The Book of a Few (11 page)

“
State your business,” a shotgun-toting man said.

I was taken by surprise, considering how it had been going so far, that they had not slapped cuffs around our wrists. I was even stunned that the man asked us to state our purpose of being there.

“
W-We’re,” I stuttered, “looking for medical attention for one of our guys.” I motioned to Taylor.

The man glanced over Taylor with a quick eye. “He can come in, and you, too, if you like. But your guns stay out here.”

I looked at Taylor, hoping to gain some form of visual cue that signaled it was all right with him for me to tag along. Taylor beckoned me with his hand, and the assumed guard took Taylor and me further into the hospital. We went through the door that separates the waiting room from the offices and rooms of the hospital. As we walked, I heard talking coming from behind the doors of a few of the rooms. Other armed men appeared to be walking the halls, along with other unrecognizable people. In the end, Taylor and I were escorted to an office on the other side of the hospital. When we arrived, the door was open and two voices came from inside the office.

As I approached the entryway, all I could comprehend from the conversation that was already taking place was that a man had said, “…Find him. Once I receive official approval for my temporary leave, Watson will cover you.”

An older man looked up at us as we entered. Leaning on a desk with both hands, he had been talking to a woman seated behind it. The man reached up and ran fingers through his graying gunslinger-esque facial hair. The man was armed, and I honestly coveted the large revolver on his hip. He had a white-bordered patch on the chest of his tactical vest that read “Thomson.” How nice it must be to have your own slice of heaven and not have to worry in a fight.

With a mass of armed men who are well-equipped and medical supplies at their disposal, these are the people you want to befriend. I can imagine that the hospital is probably one of the most secure locations in Cedar Falls. Hell, probably even the whole surrounding Cedar Valley area. But yet I wonder where they get their supplies. Perhaps some of the men here are locals that simply wish to help the cause. I can see that happening, realistically. And I’d thank every person who does put their life on the line for the community in a time like this.

The woman sitting at the dark oak desk appeared to be in her late twenties or so. Let me tell you: she is a beauty. Golden blonde hair, a little on the short side, and just the right amount of curves to make any man forget what he was doing. She introduced herself to us as Dr. Hillman with an open hand. Both Taylor and I shook with Bella and introduced ourselves in return. Thomson did not have anything to say beyond telling us that his name was Bill and that he didn’t mind being called by his last name. Thomson seemed more like a
personal
bodyguard than one that was to watch the entire perimeter. The way that Thomson watched both Taylor and my own movements made him appear very protective of Bella.

“
How can I help?” Bella asked in honeyed tones.

Taylor told the doctor his story about how he had been subjected to the infected. Bella listened eagerly until Taylor said, “But I haven’t
changed,
or lost my mind.” He paused, examining the doctor’s expression.

I said, “Dr. Hillman—”

“
Please,” she said, cutting me off. “You can call me Bella.”

I smiled and nodded. “Bella. What we want to ask is if you think that Taylor has some kind of immunity or resistance.”

Bella sighed and began rolling a pen back and forth across her desk as she spoke, her tone indicating we weren’t going to hear what we’d secretly been hoping for. “Based on what we know so far and to the obvious eye, the sick show no sign of any cognitive skills. They are living, breathing, and feeding. Some of us here believe that they are the equivalent of a raccoon infected with rabies. We have confirmed that they are, in fact, alive. If you ever get close to one, safely, put your ear to its chest and you can hear a heartbeat. They aren’t the walking dead; you don’t see them shambling around town with intestines dragging on the ground. They wander about and never stay in one area for too long because they are constantly searching for food, just like us. I’ve even seen a few pick a body clean that had been dead for three days. There is no instinct in them that tells them to leave enough of the body to reanimate it. So, there is no ‘hocus pocus’ or magical voodoo to them. It’s a new disease, pure and simple. We don’t have the full picture in view, but we intend to keep trying.”

I stopped her speech for a moment, “How do you know all of this for sure? Like really, what solid evidence is there?”

“
Well,” she continued, “we have tested multiple times to try to confirm how the virus spreads. The first time was by accident.” Bella pulled up her sleeves to reveal a scar on her forearm. “But the rest were in good control, I assure you. The disease doesn’t spread by biting or fluid exchange. Odd, yes, but we’ve been planning on running a few tests to see exactly how the regular body reacts to the blood of someone who has been infected.” Bella looked us over and sighed. She knew that this wasn’t the answer we were expecting.

“
Many people have come here with bites looking for help,” she continued. “Have you ever killed an infected?” She looked at us both, and Taylor and I looked at each other.

I spoke honestly, “Taylor hasn’t, but I have.”

She nodded. “Did you keep the body around long enough, or have you ever seen any bodies that seemed to expand unreasonably or unnaturally?”

“
Yes, I’ve seen a few bodies that seemed to…fill up. But uh…” I sighed, knowing that she was going to think of us as fools when I told her the details. “The body of one of the zombies we killed is kinda putting us in a predicament.” I told her how, without telling her exactly where we were staying, we had killed the infected and moved it into a far corner and pinned its body down under a forklift, and how its corpse had become swollen with large lumps.

I was surprised when she didn’t seem affected by our stupidity. She didn’t have a condescending look, nor did she scold us. She simply moved on, saying, “A few doctors here think that the virus may spread through the dead because the lengthened amount of time the corpses are bloated is unusual. But we have yet to collect any samples. I personally think that trying to understand why this happens is the next step we must take.”

I had forgotten that Thomson was still in the room, listening the whole time. Thomson turned to me and asked in a gruff tone, “Where is the body at?”

He seemed confused after I mentioned a forklift. He must have thought we lived in a house, but was probably now questioning that.

“
If you want, you could do your research on our dead body,” Taylor said, trying to seem like we would be doing them a favor, not the other way around.

Bella squinted her eyes and didn’t say anything, so I said, “I’ll be honest. It’s a little too close to where we sleep. We can, maybe, return the favor in some way?”

“
Well,” she looked to Thomson, “as long as you understand that we would consider it an IOU, I don’t see a problem with it. What about you, Thomson? I’ll probably go, so you would have to accompany me.”

Thomson grumbled, “Sure, I guess. S’pose we could do some good more directly.”

Taylor and I grinned to one another; it sounded like we had another problem taken care of.

“
We have some equipment we’d like to take with us to your house. It will take a few days of preparation and finishing up some current tasks to get ready. I hope you don’t mind.” She smiled, and I smiled back, shaking my head.

For the next half hour, we spoke of how the removal of the body was to be done. I also told them where the body was. When I said “Warehouse,” Thomson’s eyes grew wide. He seemed immensely interested in what was stored inside the Warehouse. Interested enough to make it uncomfortable telling him.

Don’t misunderstand me; I am very grateful for Bella and Thomson’s willingness to help us strangers, but part of me is now worried. What if, by opening our door to
anyone
and seeing how horribly feeble our attempts at self-defense are, word will get out? Someone could come and try to take our current home from us, or worse.

“
So,” I said, “before we go, can I ask you another question?”

“
Ask away,” Bella replied.

“
How has the hospital become what it is now? Like, how do you get all these supplies and
then
enough to hand out to people who help you like your posters say?”

“
Well, since the initial outbreak, roughly a week ago, we ourselves have pulled together two groups to try to gather sick people and bring them here.”

“
I’m pretty sure the C.V.P.M. got a few just recently, not to interrupt,” Thomson said.

“
C.V.P.M? What’s that?” Taylor asked.

“
Cedar Valley Peoples’ Militia. You know about the National Guard base just north of Waterloo, right?”

Taylor and I both nodded.

“
It’s gone through some reforms.” Bella paused and motioned to the air around her. “Just like we have, and let me tell you it was a bumpy start.” She laughed. “Sometimes we still don’t know what we are doing. But if it weren’t for the C.V.P.M.,” she said, motioning toward Thomson, “this hospital would not be operating the way it is. They provide us with armed security, ammunition, and even a few M.R.E.’s. In return we try to find out more about the disease out there. Now keep in mind,” she raised a finger, “we aren’t biological scientists; we’re doctors. But with common sense and trial and error, I imagine that the work here will reveal at least some information on the sickness. If we can find just one thing that would be good for the public to know, then we’ve done our job well. How long it takes for them to starve, contamination, and so forth are all in our wide spectrum of things to try to learn.”

“
Those are lofty goals,” I said, and Bella nodded.

“
But we have to try. If we don’t, then nobody will,” Thomson said.

Before we left, Taylor and I thanked both Thomson and Dr. Hillman once more. Bella told us that in two days she would be arriving at the Warehouse to help. I wonder if this is too long before an accident of some kind happens. I know it was foolish to leave the body in the building, and I should have been more assertive to have it completely removed from the building right after we killed it.

It has been an entire week since my family died, and I have only cried once. I’m not sure if this is normal or not. I could ask Branden how he has fared in the moments he is alone, but I don’t think that would be appropriate. I believe that I have mourned Miranda more than I have my family.
So if I am only moved by the loss of those I love, do I not love my own blood? In my own defense, I may not know my own heart; my feelings always come to me unexpectedly. I would normally expect to feel sad for
all
of my losses, but I don’t.

I don’t sit and look blankly at a wall during the day, wondering if they made it to heaven. It’s not that I don’t miss them, because I do. I seem to wonder more if there was anything that I could have done differently to change what happened. I can either sit here in a depressive slump, or I can act like it never happened. I’ve chosen the latter option. I’d rather block out every pang of grief that strikes my heart and lose the connections and emotions I had for those people than feel sadness.

Well, let’s move on to today. When we all got up in the morning to eat and prepare for the day, we found that some kinds of food were beginning to spoil. We weren’t surprised, but it is still disheartening. There is no feasible way that the six of us, Lisa and Joey included, could eat the food fast enough so as none of it goes bad. It’s something I hope that we fix soon because it is a shame to waste such a large amount of food.