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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.
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