Zombie serial part 5 (read the rest here)
Now that was a hell of a mess. Well organised though, bodies to the left, heads to the right. I guess that way there could be no accidental re-attachments. Wait, was that even possible? Who knew? With this new breed of brain munchers, anything was possible really. My jaw cracked in a yawn but I decided not to try to count the hours since I’d slept; pretty sure I’d seen two sunrises without any shut-eye though. I’d been watching the fire station for two hours now and there’d been no sign of life. No signs of the undead either and I figured it was the stacks of their brethren keeping them away.
Time to go. I stood up from my crouch behind a truly rank dumpster and strolled across the road. My eyes alert for any shambling, I paused at the doors and listened for what felt like the longest minute of my life before pushing one open a sliver and sliding inside. I heard the clunk of a shell being loaded a second after I pulled the door shut and all I could do was pray to the god that had already forsaken us all.
I lifted my hands as I turned slowly towards the sound. Sitting on the staircase was a big blonde dude, holding a mother fucking shotgun. “I come in peace,” I said with a grin.
“If you don’t want to leave in pieces you’ll leave now,” he growled as he pointed the shotgun at my chest.
Okay, hands up wasn’t helping so I dropped them to my sides. Dropped the grin too. “I’m just looking for a safe place man.” A moment later I have a sweet little piece in my hand, well a big arse desert eagle, and we’re in Mexican stand-off territory. The dude doesn’t flinch, just smirks at me. Back at ya mate.
“So what? You’re going to shoot me with your pea shooter and take this place?” He asked conversationally.
“Pea shooter?” I am incredulous and insulted. “We don’t all have to over compensate with mini cannons,” I said with a snort.
“Oh my god, please tell me you are not having a penis fight.” A husky feminine voice sounds from above and I can’t stop myself from looking up.
Now to be honest, it’s been a while since I’ve seen a real live woman. I don’t know if it’s because they were easier targets or of they’re all smarter than me and better at playing hide and seek. Well, hiding or being hidden. Either way, its been a while, but this one is smoking hot. Even pale and weak as she obviously is, her wow factor is off the scales. The blonde dude obviously thinks so too as he shoots me a warning glare then bounds up the stairs to wrap her in his arms.
“Baby what are you doing?” I hear him chiding her though his voice is soft, this is a fire station and sound carries.
“I heard voices. Who’s your friend?”
I watch as he supports her closer to the edge of the stairs, his bulk making her looking tiny but she’s about average height. Her dark shoulder length hair is messed up like she just rolled out of bed, and I’m putting that image away for later, her almond shaped eyes are looking at me, her lips tilted in a curious smile that turns to a frown as dude says; “He’s not my friend, I’m just telling him he has to go.”
“D, we talked about this,” she said with a smile in my direction and I’m hoping it was a good talk and that dude, wait ‘D’ really listened.
I’ve been alone for a long time, the places I’ve been, the things I’ve seen … they make Sons of Anarchy look like a knitting club and The Walking Dead is a utopian ideal. The reality? Well there’s a reason I’ve barely slept; it’s not just the undead trying to eat your brains you have to worry about. I’d slogged through a lot of bad shit to end up standing here and to be honest? I really wanted to stay. I wanted to talk to these seemingly normal people. I wanted to be able to sleep, not just rest with one eye opened, because sleeping could leave you dead or worse.
“Remember what happened last time you made a friend,” D said, his voice still low but again, fire station.
Now that didn’t sound good so I thought this might be a great time to act like I hadn’t heard D’s comment and introduce myself. First step, I shoved the pea shooter back in its holster, raised a hand in greeting.
“Hey, I’m Max,” I called out with my friendliest smile.
“Really?” The woman smiled back but she looked a bit confused. “I was expecting …” she shook her head as her voice trailed off and D picked her up and carried her down the stairs. He stopped at the bottom and put her down so she sat a few steps up then he sat at her feet, one hand on her knee, the other holding the shot-gun.
“You were expecting a different name?” I finished her sentence for her.
“Have you ever …” she ducked her head and whispered something in D’s ear that had him laughing.
“Yeah babe,” he said grinning at me.
“What?” I prompted, wanting to be in on the joke. See, this what I had missed. Normal people, making jokes, having fun. Not debating how much they could get for your jacket, your shoes, your kidneys.
“She thinks you look like that actor from Supernatural. Your name should be Dean,” D explained when the woman just sat smiling at me.
“Oh.” I scraped my hand over my unshaven jaw. “Yeah I get that. But no, I’m Max, not Dean.”
“Max,” the woman repeated with a smile.
“Yeah.” I nodded and smiled back at her. “I sort of met D there.” I inclined my head at the other man. “And you are?”
“She’s none of your business,” D growled and rose to his feet in front of her, glaring at me.
Seriously, we’re doing it this way? Time to pull out my trump card.
“Did I mention what I did before?” I said casually though my eyes are on the woman who is way too pale.
“Did I mention I wanted your life story,” D snapped.
“D,” her soft voice held a warning and a quaver.
“Fuck it,” I whispered under my breath even as I swung the pack from my back and started digging through it.
“What are you doing!” D’s yell has me looking up and unsurprised to find that shot gun levelled at me again.
“I’m a doctor,” I yell back as I feel the edge of my kit and yank it out.
“Oh thank god,” D muttered and stepped to the side as I strode towards them
“What happened,” I snap as I look down at the woman, she’s pale and when I lift my hand towards her face I can feel heat radiating from her skin.
“One of them grabbed her,” D said as he reached for the hem of her shirt and lifted it to reveal a bandage.
“Which one?” I said it more out of reflex, ER banter to the rescue but his answer surprises a laugh out me.
“The one with no head left, I stomped that mother fucker,” he muttered.
The skin around the bandage is red the smell isn’t great either.
“You didn’t have any antibiotics?” I mutter the obvious but D answers.
“No, just normal pain killers I’ve been forcing her to take and keeping her fluids up.” His voice is grim, he knows it’s not enough.
“Any allergies?” I don’t care who answers but I’m not sure the woman is capable.
“Baby?” D cups her jaw and her eyes slit open, her head barely moves.
“We’re good,” D said, his eyes locked on hers.
“This might hurt a little,” I warn them as I prep a needle. “What’s her name?” I like to be able to talk to my patients, even if they can’t talk back.
“Baby?” D’s arm is around her now, her head resting against his shoulder, her eyes closed. “Do something Doc,” D begged.
My eyes drop to the shotgun that’s resting beside him on the steps. It would be so easy …