Once they hurt one cop, they couldn't stop. No one saidit, but they knew it. They had taken on a hive-like mentality now. Together,they would work to escape from the building or die trying. Perhaps they'd justkeep running, right through the world, a nonstop whirlwind of violence andchange picking up members and spitting them out, like seeds, ready to flowerand blossom into bastions of destruction and degeneracy.
Ace walked slowly in this whirlwind, testing doors, andlooking for anything that he could use as a weapon. He still had the ASP baton,but he wanted something sexier, something more definite. He laughed to himselfas he heard the screams of another police officer from somewhere in thebuilding.
After opening another door, Ace found himself face toface with a cop that was hurriedly putting on his utility belt. Ace flung openthe ASP baton, and charged the man before he could pull his gun. As he broughtthe ASP down on his arm, he actually heard it break. The officer's arm hungthere below the elbow, drooping as if there weren't bones inside. His screamwas loud, so Ace clocked him across the face. Teeth clattered on the floor, andthe police officer fell over on his side.
He dropped down to his knees, and pulled the cop's gunfrom its holster. He looked at it intently as the officer tried to crawl awayfrom him with his one good arm. Ace wasn't familiar with firearms. He had oncefired a few in a shopping mall in Honolulu, but other than that, he had rarelyseen them. Guns were illegal in Japan.
He did manage to find the safety though. Ace stood overthe officer, pointing the gun at the officer's face. A quick squeeze, and hewould be gone. Ace's mind warred with itself. He waited for a sign, somethingto show him what to do. Chaos was hard.
The officer whimpered, on his back with his hands infront of his face. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, as he spoke."Please. Don't shoot. I have a family."
Ace smiled. "We all have family. Or else we wouldnot exist." Ace turned around, and walked out of the room, leaving the coplying there in a bloody heap on the floor. It was tough being Chaos. Theordered part of his mind, the part that had been conditioned to civilizationkept telling him to kill the cop. It was justice. It was justice for Tak,justice for Jungle Fever, justice for himself.
In the end, he decided that more chaos would come from abroken and injured cop than from a dead one. He tucked his gun away, and walkedthrough the police station. By now, the crowd had rushed on, their handiworksplattered on walls, floors, and desks. Some of their handiwork still quivered,but most were dead... or deadish.
Ace smiled to himself as he pulled a pack of cigarettesfrom a dead policeman's pocket. He strolled out of the police station, on aquest for some food. He was starving, and he had a lot of work to do.
Chapter 47: I'd Like to Make a Collect Call toArmageddon
The monitors glowed with a spectral blue light asshambling humans wandered in and out of frame. Joan and Clara were doomed. Ofthat they both agreed. Clara might be a feisty woman and Joan might be a doctorwith a spine fashioned out of steel, but together they weren’t enough toconquer the sheer number of infected humans in the hospital quarantine wardalone.
Clara had ceased being angry long ago. She still wantedto sock Joan across the jaw every now and then, but the hopelessness of theirsituation was becoming clearer and clearer. Their only protection was a thickdoor secured by a keypad and some heavy-duty steel locks. Of course, this samedoor was also keeping them from the things that they needed, namely food andwater.
She doubted that the designers of this office hadenvisioned a scenario where the entire hospital would fall so quickly. “There’sno way they would need their own water or food supply,” someone had likely saidat one of the production meetings. Schmucks.
All they had was a phone, their one lifeline to theoutside world… and no one was answering. The police emergency line was eitherbusy or it sent out a stock recording that told Joan to hang up and try again.
The idea of waiting in the room and starving to death wasunnerving Joan, and Clara wasn’t far behind her. They hadn’t talked for awhile, so Clara had to clear her throat when she spoke. “We can’t just sithere.”
Joan didn’t say anything. She just stared at the glare ofthe monitors, cycling through room after room, watching her former patientswander around, looking for something to eat.\
“Did you hear me? We can’t just sit here,” she repeated.
“What do you want me to do?” she said in a blunt voice.“The police aren’t answering, and if you think we’re going to make it throughthat mass of people, then you’re dreaming.”
Clara groaned in frustration, “There has to be somethingthat we can do.”
Joan was silent, apparently lost in thought. “There isone thing,” she said. Clara waited patiently, even though she wanted to shakethe answer out of the woman. “We could notify the CDC.”
“What good is that going to do?” Clara asked.
“Maybe nothing for us, but we might be able to help otherpeople.”
Clara threw her hands up in frustration, “Well, make thecall. Someone ought to have a chance to live at least.”
Joan flipped through a binder labeled “EmergencyScenario” and pulled out a laminated sheet of paper with a phone number on it.She grabbed the phone and began dialing the number, then she waited as theother end rang.
“Speaker,” Clara prompted.
