For all the gore, there was surprisingly little blood. Jenny could smell raw meat, and the sickly-sour butcher shop odor of liver and sweetbreads, coupled with a deep, smoked pork scent courtesy of her dairy creamer weapon.
“Are they gone?” one of the children whispered.
Repulsive as it was, the playroom seemed to be empty.
“Yes,” Jenny said. Her hand found the doorknob, sticky with fluid that had been squeezed from the slaughtered dracula stuck in the window.
“Don’t go!”
“It’s okay,” Jenny said. “I’m just going to use the intercom. I’ll be right back.”
Touching the knob gingerly with just her fingertips, she swung open the door and immediately wiped her hand off on an unstained part of her uniform. The intercom was on the wall, right next to the barricaded door. Jenny moved carefully out of the closet, undecided on whether or not to leave the door open. On the one hand, she didn’t want to put the children in danger. But the door locked automatically, and if she needed to get in there quickly, she didn’t want to have to wait for one of the kids to let her in.
She opted for a compromise—closing it most of the way, but leaving it open a crack.
Then she focused her attention on the twenty-foot space between her and the intercom.
Slow and steady? Or run like hell?
Jenny ran, watching her footing but still feeling fleshy bits squish under the soles of her shoes. She reached the intercom in the space of a few seconds, then had a bad thought.
The power is out. What if it doesn’t work?
Jenny hoped it would be powered by the generator. Like life-support and operating room lights, the intercom was essential for patient care. Earlier, amid the chaos, someone had used it to call Shanna. But Jenny couldn’t remember if it was before or after the outage.
Only one way to find out…
She pressed the button and spoke into the speaker, “Randall, I’m still in pediatrics with the children. I need you to…oh my God!”
Jenny froze, immobilized by fear.
Dr. Lanz appeared in the hallway.
She spotted him through the spiderweb cracks of the room-length window, the children’s finger painting now frescoed with bits of tissue.
Lanz hadn’t spotted her yet. But he’d heard her. The intercom worked fine, Jenny’s voice blaring throughout the hospital, announcing her location.
Lanz reached the hole he’d broken in the glass, and locked eyes with her. His white lab coat was charred, his nametag a melted blob.
His face was also a melted blob. The doctor’s nose was nothing but a blackened hole, and his hair stuck to his scalp in sticky, burned patches.
“EEEEEEEEEIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIICHHHHHHHH!”
Did he just call me a bitch?
Quick as a cat, he pounced through the window and sprang at Jenny, bounding toward her on all fours, closing the distance between them with astonishing speed.
Jenny reached for one of the chairs piled up against the exit door and held it in front of her like a lion tamer, keeping Lanz at bay. He swiped at it, hitting hard enough to sting Jenny’s palms and make her arms shake. He repeated the move, batting the chair to the other side, but she refused to let go, not letting him get close enough to touch her.
Then Lanz paused his attack. He sniffed the air, the ragged skin around his nasal cavity vibrating. He turned his head slowly toward the storage room.
No! Not the children!
Lanz leapt toward the closet, but Jenny had anticipated the move. She tossed the chair aside and threw herself at him, tackling the doctor around his ankles, causing him to sprawl face-first onto the floor.
Every cell in Jenny’s body screamed at her to let go, to get as far away from the hideous creature as possible. But Jenny Bolton had seen enough death that day. Horrible, pointless, unexpected death. If she had to kill Dr. Lanz with her own two fists, she would, because she would be damned if she let that monster harm another innocent.
Lanz twisted on the floor, reaching back for Jenny, his claws outstretched and tangling in her hair. She grabbed onto one of his talons—long and bony—and snapped it backward, hard as she could, so quick and violent that his knuckle split the skin and popped out to say hello.
Lanz immediately released her head—
—and shoved his bleeding finger into his mouth.
As the creature cannibalized its own hand, Jenny scurried off to the side, got her feet under her, and sprinted toward the closet door. She reached for the knob, yanking hard.
The door didn’t move.
It must have closed shut on its own.
Jenny glanced back at Dr. Lanz, who was sitting on the floor, rocking back and forth, chewing on his hand and shuddering with either agony or ecstasy. Or maybe both. His misshapen, angler-fish teeth were shredding the appendage to hamburger.
She stuck her head into the window.
“Kids! Open the door and let me in!”
The children didn’t reply.
“Come on! Open the door!”
When she got a response, it was tinged with tears. “I’m scared.”
“I’m scared too. But you need to let me in so I can protect you.”
Jenny stuck her arm through the window, waving the glow stick and peering inside. The four children were huddled together on the far side of the closet.
“Come on, kids. Please open up.”
She glanced over her shoulder toward Lanz. He was still chewing on his hand, but it wasn’t as frenzied. He’d grown calmer, almost contemplative about the task. As if deciding which part of the turkey leg to bite into next.
Even if Jenny made it past him, where could she go? No doubt the hospital was crawling with draculas. The closet was the safest place. Besides, she couldn’t leave the kids.
She stuck her head through the broken window. No way she’d fit through. Maybe ten years and twenty pounds ago, but all that would happen now was she’d get stuck like that monster had.
Another quick glance at Lanz.
He was no longer eating himself.
Instead, he was standing, staring at Jenny, a line of bloody drool stretching down his chest.
Oh no…
She banged on the door with both fists. “Open this goddamn door now! Right now!”
Jenny chanced another look behind her.
Lanz was holding his hand—now a ragged stump—up to his mouth. His misshapen, hideous tongue gave it a long, slow lick, like he was enjoying a popsicle. His black eyes bore into Jenny.
Then he took an easy step forward.
“JESUS CHRIST JUST OPEN THE—!”
Lanz broke into a run, and just then the knob turned. Jenny slipped into the closet, managing to get the door closed and to brace her back against it just as Lanz hit full force. His claw—the one he still had—shot through the window and latched onto Jenny’s throat. She twisted away, crabwalking backward, watching in helpless terror as Lanz tried to force himself into the square window.
He got his arm in.
He got his head in.
But that was as far as he could go.
Jenny feverishly looked around for a weapon. Besides the art supplies, there was medical equipment, but none of it formidable. Bandages, sutures, iodine, splints, tape. Where were the scalpels? Where were the syringes? Where was the—
Crash cart! Why hadn’t she thought of that before?
The cart was a set of aluminum shelves on wheels, stocked with everything needed to resuscitate and treat life-threatening conditions. She crawled to it, yanking open a drawer, looking for something, anything, to hurt Lanz with. Her mind was thinking syringes and drugs.
But her eyes locked onto the defibrillator.