Day 344 - Untitled Zombie Story Chapter 7 - (1,215 words)

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UNTITLED ZOMBIE STORY

By Wayne Webb

Chapter 7

James looked around the room and blinked at the sterile lighting, it was cold and clinical in here, really powered and not at all what he was used to since the GZA, and how most of the amenities these days being so Ad-hoc. This was like it used to be, back before all the chaos and the death.

“Hello?” he croaked the words out and he felt his throat, unnaturally dry and raspy, like he had a cold or had not drank any water in far too long. He cleared his throat but it still felt like he had swallowed sand.

On the table next to the bed was a jug of water with two slices of lemon floating in it, beads of condensation running down the outside of the glass. This was fresh, still cold enough to sweat the difference in the room temperature. James ran a hand on the surface, tracing his initials in the beads of water formed there.

It was still cold, he knew that it would be yet he also wanted to touch it, to feel the wetness like it should be, not as it might be in a dream.  It felt real, but what the hell was real in a dream anyway? Just because they say things like that for convenience in the movies or on TV, doesn’t mean anything? Maybe you can feel things, maybe you can’t? Maybe you can dream that you can feel, but in reality you can’t and in a dream you just convince yourself it’s real.

If it’s a dream, there’s nothing to be done but go along and wait till it’s over, if it’s real then… he could certainly use a drink.

He opened the top drawer of the bedside table and cabinet, and there in a neatly wrapped plastic sheath was a glass, hard and sparkling clean. There were words printed on the wrapping, ”Hereford Hospital” and the slogan, “Secure and Safe for Better Health.” He held that plastic in his hands, and smoothed out the label area to see if there were any other details that would help him but there was not.

The water was refreshing and zesty, the lemon slices added a zing that lifted it beyond thirst quenching and gave some substance to the drink. In response to the extra calories, either in his head or his stomach there was a reaction. A gurgling rumble and a gnawing ache came to him and he felt famished.

The water hit the spot, and James poured a second helping, downing it just as quickly. This time he refilled the glass and just put it down on the tabletop, and swung his legs off the bed, they felt jittery like his muscles were twitching uncontrolled and erratically.

The odd sensation would not leave him, but he assumed it was pins and needles from lying in bed for… how long had he been out? Long enough to be moved somewhere not in the City and not close that he knew by name. There was no Hereford County, no town and no Hereford Hospital around that he knew of. It was not possible for it to be brand new, which was just not going to happen these days.

Then again, he would not have thought that controlling the undead was that easy a few days ago either?

James stepped off the bed and on to the floor, his legs gave way immediately and buckled beneath him, dropping his weight from the edge of the bed to halfway to the floor, before he managed to catch himself again and prevent a total crash downwards.

“What the hell?” He said to himself and tested his legs, but this time putting his weight on his arms at the frame that contained the hospital bed, the jagged seizures in his muscles telling him that his legs did not operate the same way they used to.  They wobbled and quaked but there was some strength in them, he just needed to shake it up, walk it off.

Tentatively he put all of the weight on one leg, felt it firming up then took the other one and spread the load, standing and wavering slightly he let go of one hand first, gauging his stability and then let go totally, standing on his own.

“How long have I been here?” he asked himself aloud, hearing a slight echo in the white walled hospital ward where he was installed, alone.

“Thirty six hours.” Came an electronic echoed voice, from a speaker somewhere by the way it spoke, “Give or take.”

“Where am I?” James asked and the sudden anger at knowing nothing and being a virtual prisoner in this sterile place drove adrenaline to shore up the unused muscles in his legs. “Who are you?” He added, and looked around but saw no one and could not spot the speaker.

James took a step to the middle of the room and looked both ways, trying to determine the best way to go. To the end of the room was a bay window from which he could see sky; if he went to that then he could figure out where he was and what was happening. The other way was double doors that led out of the ward and potentially to some staff or people who knew where he was, what was going on.

“Stay in bed please.” Came the voice from the ceiling, James spun around and tried to pinpoint where it was coming from exactly, it was somewhere above him in the roof perhaps?

“Make me.” James said and he instantly felt a twinge for his missing brother, that attitude and that railing against authority, which was his thing all over. He was angry and he was confused so the emulation of his brother Derek was the best thing he could think to do. WWDD?

“Please sit down, you have not moved for a day and a half and the machines have aftereffects you need rest, please?” The voice sounded pained and James clicked that it was a woman’s voice, one he faintly recognized.

“Do I know you?” He said and looked around for any evidence of who was speaking or where they may be speaking.

“James, please sit?” The voice pleaded with more than a little familiarity.

“I do know you, don’t I? Tell me who you are and I’ll sit.” James said but as he waited he remembered something that doctor had said before he blacked out, something about the machines, and something the in eyes? “Hang on! What machines?” he demanded, thoughts of identifying his captor out of his head all of a sudden.

“These Machines.” The voice said.

“What the fuck?” James started to exclaim as his legs moved of their own accord, jerking about as if being pulled on strings, walking him stiffly back to the bed and launching him back on the surface, face down at first until he turned to his back, looking up at the ceiling.

From this position he saw a small indentation and led in one of the ceiling tiles, and it was from there that the voice spoke and watched him.

“Please, just sleep.”

“No way!” James started but then his eyes closed and the world went black.