Fred's screams intensified as Kevin pounced on him. Katiegrabbed another bullet and finally managed to drop it in the chamber. Shestalked over to Kevin as she slammed the cylinder closed. She pulled thetrigger but nothing happened. Kevin was grinding his upper jaw into Fred'sdefending forearm, as she cycled through the empty chambers in the gun.Finally, she hit the right chamber, and Fred's face was splattered with theblood of her two-times dead son.
The room was silent but for the continuous drone ofinformation from the clock radio, "Some reports are claiming that... theassailants appear to be reanimated corpses."
Katie walked quietly into the living room to see the doorthrown open. As she walked over to close the door, she saw that there were morepeople in the street, and they were walking towards the house. She closed thedoor, as quietly as she could, but the handful of people in the streets were slowlymaking their way towards the house and the lock on the front door was busted.They knew they were there, hiding inside the house. There were only two waysthis was going to play out.
Katie hung up the phone in the living room, before shewent to check on Fred. She popped open the cylinder easier this time, and asshe began stuffing bullets into the revolver, she said, "I got some goodnews, and I got some bad news."
Fred, lying on the floor and nursing his arm, laughed,"There's good news?"
"Well, relatively speaking."
Fred sat up and groaned in pain. "Alright, let'shear it."
"The good news is that there are no more of them inthe house. Whatever they're talking about on the news is obviously happeninghere. The bad news is that there were more of them in the street when I lookedoutside... and they're headed this way."
Fred's smile finally faded from his face. Katie watchedthe wheels turn in his head, and then he made his decision. "Hand me thephone."
Katie picked up the receiver and handed it to him. Hedialed 911, and waited patiently. There was no answer, just a recorded messagethat had been heard a thousand times already that night.
In the other room, the front door banged open. Fred'shead sagged, before he said, "You have to go."
Katie didn't say anything. There wasn't anything to say.
Fred looked around his room, "I can't say I'll missthe place."
Chapter 34: Quarantined
Clara sat in her room examining her surroundings. Therewasn't much to examine. Her mind wandered to Joan. The plans that came to hermind were violent, brutal. She wanted to smash her face in. She wanted to seeher lying on the ground bleeding. Most of all, she wanted to be out of theroom. Clara could hear banging on doors, and a couple of minutes ago, she couldhave sworn that she had heard gunshots coming from somewhere in the hospital.
No one had visited her for hours. Clara had no idea whattime it was; she had lost all sense of time when she had fallen asleep. Shedidn't feel like she had slept for long, but she had slept long enough todream. They hadn't been good dreams either. Courtney was in them, only itwasn't Courtney; it was the monster that he had become.
The door to her room, her cell, opened and a man in abiohazard suit came in with a tray full of food.
"What's going on out there?" she asked him.There was no answer, just an implacable stone-faced disregard for her that madeher barely contained rage rise to the surface.
The man placed the tray on the bed table, and then madeto leave.
"Where is Joan? I need to talk to her." The manhesitated at the name of Joan, but then he walked out of the room, shutting thedoor behind him. For a second, Clara had the desire to throw her food at thedoor like some sort of petulant child who had not gotten her way. But that'snot what she needed at the moment; what she needed right now was a plan andsome food.
She looked at the tray of food. It was hospital food, butit was good enough for her. She sat in a chair next to the table and picked upa grilled cheese sandwich. It wasn't as good as her mother had made, but it didthe job. The tomato soup was a little watery for her taste, and what she reallywanted was a beer. She made do with the tiny cardboard carton of chocolatemilk, which made her feel like she was back in elementary school.
She was onto the second half of her sandwich when sheheard more gunshots, only this time they were closer. They sounded as if theywere right down the hall. She wished her room had a window. She stood next tothe door, listening to the sounds in the hallway. There was shouting but shecouldn't make out the words. She knew this would probably be her best chance toescape.
Clara stalked over to the bed table and dumped her foodon the floor, sparing a second to bemoan the image of the second-half of thegrilled cheese sandwich lying on the speckled, white linoleum. The tray washard tan plastic. It wouldn't be as good of a bludgeon as a steel tray, butthat might be part of the reason why they didn't use metal. She hefted it inher hands. It was awkward, but it could do some damage if she swung it right.
More gunshots. Clara could hear her pulse in her ears asadrenaline kicked in. She shook while she waited. The shouting was clearer now,she could almost make out words.
The door sprang open and Clara brought the tray crashingdown on the intruder's head. It broke in half and Joan tumbled to the groundunconscious.
Clara spared her a single glance, and successfullyprevented herself from kicking Joan's teeth out of her now bleeding skull. Itwas hard, but she needed all the time she could get.
She poked her head into the hallway to see what was goingon. A group of men or women in biohazard suits, it was hard to tell which, werestanding
