At the top of the stairs were two bedrooms and a bath. It was a compact upper floor with slanted ceilings. The bathroom was empty, no signs of a struggle. The bed in the master bedroom was unmade and the other room looked as if it belonged to a teenager. It was a mess and controllers for a video game were on the bed.
The second floor was clear.
That was when he heard a thump and shuffle from below.
He left the teenager’s bedroom and headed back down the stairs. The living room was still empty and Max peeked out to check on the others in the car. When he stepped into the dining room he saw the man.
The kitchen was a small open area connected to a family room on the other side.
Moving rigidly and stiffly, the man, wearing a tee shirt and pajama bottoms, bumped relentlessly into the sliding glass doors of the family room. He'd stagger into the closed doors, bounce back, and try again. His white shirt was filthy and covered with a brown substance, his hair matted and messy. He emitted an odor that Max caught even at ten feet away.
Max made his way slowly over to the man, whose back was covered with dried blood and his face not only showing signs of the sickness but of bruises sustained from hitting against the door.
Max was surprised the glass hadn’t broken.
Eyes focused on the man, Max’s foot hit something on the kitchen floor that rolled across the linoleum, catching the attention of the man.
The infected man stared at Max, breathed his gurgling frustration with a snarl then continued his actions.
Max peered down to see what he had kicked. It was a huge butcher knife. There was blood on the knife and Max reached down for it. Someone in the house had tried to take down the man and failed.
Max would finish the job.
He walked up behind the man, his insides twisting with nervousness and a sickening feeling.
Was he making the right decision?
Botched attempts to stab the man were evident all over his back. Max gripped the handle of the knife, taking a breath of courage. “I’m sorry, guy.”
Upon hearing his words, the infected man spun to Max, released this thick mucus filled growl, and Max inserted the knife under the man’s chin until the handle met his jawbone.
Eyes widening, the man fell sideways.
Emotionally it wasn’t an easy task. He had taken a life in cold blood. He saw the man’s eyes, looked into them, if only briefly.
Max then opened the sliding glass doors and pulled the body outside. First and second floor secure now, Max shut and locked the front door, secured the sliding glass doors, pulled the drapes, and went to the basement.
The game room was free of infected as well and he decided it was a safe place. With a windowless garage door, Max’s idea would work.
He instructed Eugene to back the car into the garage.
“Grace and I can get to the hospital, walk among the infected, you two can’t,” Max said. “The house is empty, but stay down here in case you need to escape. I really think you’ll be fine in here. Stay in the garage, and for God’s sake, don’t run the car.”
“I’m not an idiot,” Eugene replied. “How will we know you guys made it? Or if everything is okay at the hospital?”
“We’ll come back,” Max stated.
Grace crouched down to Candice. “You stay with Eugene, stay near the car and listen to him.”
“Will Macy be okay?” Candice asked.
“I don’t know.” Grace placed her lips to Candice’s forehead and stood. She opened the back car door, and undid the straps on the car seat, lifting Macy into her arms. “We’ll be back.”
After double checking the basement door was locked, Max gave one more look to Eugene and Candice and pulled down the garage door.
The handle turned, Eugene had locked the door.
“Why are you doing this?” Grace asked.
“We came this far, right? We were running for our lives, well, Eugene was. And besides,” he lifted his hand, “I need stitches.”
It was two blocks to the hospital, mostly on an upgrade, and halfway there, Max took over the task of carrying Macy. Although the child was small, her immobile body was heavy for Grace to keep carrying.
“What if no one is there?” Grace asked worriedly.
“Then no one is there. It’s still a hospital. They have an ER, and at the very least, maybe we can find something besides Benadryl that will keep her calm.”
“Do you know what to look for?”
“I have an idea.” He adjusted Macy against his chest. “She’s still really feverish. Maybe some antibiotics.”
“This is a virus. I don’t think antibiotics work on a virus.”
“We’ll find something.”
They weaved through the cars and walked inconspicuously around the infected. The first entrance to the hospital was the emergency room entrance, a gated opening, sealed off by a military truck. Yet, there were no soldiers.
They squeezed by the truck into the parking area of the ER wing. It had been cleared. No infected walked around, but there were bodies. Some torn to shreds, some bullet ridden.
The ER had two entrance bays, both huge glass doors that were closed.
Max handed Macy to Grace, walked over to the patient entrance, and peered inside. He saw one light and a body lay on the floor.
“Any one there?” Grace asked.
“Not that I see.” He tried to pry open the door. It didn’t budge. Max then walked over to the ambulance entrance doors, which were locked as well, and gurneys were pushed against them on the inside.
“What do we do?” Grace asked.
“Break in.” Max looked around. There was a guard booth directly outside the patient entrance and, hoping to find something in there, Max went over to it. As soon as he stepped inside the booth, he heard Grace scream and rushed back out.
A man in soiled scrubs stood inside the patient entrance, holding up his hand for them to wait. He grabbed a chair, carried it to the doors, stood on it, and reached to the top, obviously unlocking it.
Grace sighed out loudly in relief when the doors opened.
“Come on in,” he said. “Hurry.”
Grace and Max slipped inside the small opening. The man in scrubs peered out nervously, then locked the doors again.
His name, Darshan Jvaheri, was on his name badge, which he still wore clipped to his chest pocket. The younger, dark complexioned man calmly stepped over the sheet covered body by the main doors. “This way,” he said. “We need to stay out of sight. Do you folks need anything? Food. Water?”
“No,” Grace replied. “Just help.”
“I assume for the child?” Darshan said, reaching for the ‘open’ pad for the double doors.
“And him,” Grace said. “He’s injured too.”
“What kind of injury?” He paused in pressing the button.
Max held up his hand. “And I have a bite. I need to make sure it’s healing.”
“A bite.” Darshan stopped cold. “How long ago were you bitten?”
“Thirty-six hours ago, maybe more.” “And you’re still not ill?” Darshan pushed the open button. “Amazing.”
As soon as Grace walked through she saw people: some medical professionals, some survivors like her. They sat on the floor, in chairs, there weren’t many, maybe thirty, but it was the most uninfected people Grace had seen in one area since the outbreak.
“We’re safe here,” Darshan said. He grabbed a med cart by the nurses’ station.
“Doctor, do you need any help?” one of the women asked.
“No, thank you, Betty, I’m good.” He moved the cart with him as he spoke to Grace and Max. “We secured the stairwells. There are infected on the upper floors, but they haven’t made it down. I don’t know if it is the steps or not, but we’re not taking any chances.” He peered into exam rooms as they walked by. “Here, this one is empty.” He pulled the curtain. “Please place the child down.”