Seven

Fifteen Minutes Earlier

“Dammit,” said Park as he paced the waiting room. “How in the fuck could it possibly take this long?”

Moe was still grasping his arm. “It's only been a few minutes.”

“Few minutes of pissing me off.” Park looked back to the emergency room doors and scowled. The fat old bitty at the reception desk glanced at him, then looked down. Park snorted and turned to pace the other way.

He took one step.

An enormous crash came from the emergency room.

Park whipped back around. “Shit! What the fuck was that?”

The fat old bitty rushed to the doors. “I'll check. Stay here.” She pushed her way into the emergency room and the doors swung shut behind her.

Park watched her go, then turned to pace some more. He heard Moe stand and he turned back.

Moe frowned at the doors. “What do you think's going on, Park?”

Park shrugged. “Fuck if I know. Hopefully it clears a spot in there.” He looked at the doors for a second, then sighed. “I guess let's see.”

He walked to the doors and Moe followed. He pushed the doors open a crack and peered inside. Moe looked over his shoulder.

The emergency room was in shambles. An ambulance sat in the middle of the room. A large hole was ripped in one wall. Angie, the aide Park had talked to, was running to the ambulance.

“Damn,” said Moe. “Maybe we should help.”

“Fuck that shit,” said Park. “We need to get you to another hospital.” He stepped back from the door and turned to Moe.

Moe frowned. “But the nearest hospital is hours away.”

Park nodded back toward the emergency room. “I think here will take longer.”

Moe winced and looked pale. “Okay, but let's hurry. I don't feel so good.”

“Sure thing,” said Park. They both went toward the exit doors.

And stopped when they reached them.

Outside in the parking lot, two girls in cheerleader uniforms were ripping a grown man apart.

The man stood screaming as the girls tugged at him from either side. One ripped a chunk of his chest free and stuck the bloody meat into her mouth and chewed. Blood ran down her chin and she looked toward the hospital. And at Park.

Behind the cheerleaders, a crowd of people slowly drew near.

“Shit,” said Park.

A screaming mob of people burst from the emergency room. Park had less than a second to look back before the mob swept him and Moe outside.

“What the fuck?” yelled Park. He grabbed Moe and yanked him to one side of the parking lot, out of the way of the rushing mob.

The front of the mob ran into the crowd that was slowly coming the other way.

The mob started screaming.

Park stared as he watched one group of people eat the other.

“Park...” said Moe.

“Yeah,” said Park, still staring.

An old man missing one eye bit into a young girl's cheek. He pulled away a long strip of flesh and chewed. The young girl shrieked.

“They're eating them,” finished Park.

“I think we should go back inside,” said Moe.

“Yeah.”

They turned and tried to push their way back into the hospital. The back end of the mob was still trying to push its way out. They were screaming about whatever had sent them running from the emergency room. The front of the mob was screaming as the approaching crowd bit and ripped at them. The whole world was full of screams.

Moe stopped in the middle of the mob. He swayed back and forth. “Park...”

“Not now!” said Park, grabbing Moe's collar and pulling him toward the doors.

“I don't feel so good,” said Moe.

“Turn around you dumb motherfuckers!” yelled Park as he forced his way through the mob.

“Park!” Moe screamed.

Park turned back. One of the crazy cannibals - a fat woman in a rotting dress - had hold of Moe and was pulling him down to the asphalt. Her mouth was open and she was straining to bite.

“Shit!” yelled Park. Moe fell out of sight, lost in the dark of the parking lot and the shadows of the surrounding mob. “Moe!”

People pressed around Park. Moe's hand slipped from his grasp. Into darkness.

“Damn it,” said Park, fishing out his lighter. He shoved people aside and flicked the lighter on, bending down to where he had last seen Moe.

Moe was struggling with the fat woman, who was doing her best to bite but hadn't succeeded. The woman pulled away from Park's lighter, hissing at the flame and letting go of Moe.

Park grabbed Moe's hand and pulled him up. “Come on!” He snapped the lighter off and dropped it back in his pocket.

The woman grabbed for Moe again.

“Fuck off!” yelled Park, punching the woman in the face. Her head snapped back, then slowly righted as if nothing had happened. She groaned at them.

Park looked around. The crazies were closer. They were working their way through the mob, drawing nearer to the doors. Blood was everywhere. The thick smell of it stung Park's nose.

Finally, the remaining mob behind Park realized what was happening. They screamed and changed direction, running back into the hospital. Park almost fell backward at the sudden shift.

“Hurry!” he yelled, pulling Moe toward the hospital. The crazy woman grabbed at them but missed.

Park and Moe spilled back into the waiting room.

“Shit fuck hell,” Park muttered, looking around. The mob was rushing back into the emergency room. Park saw nowhere else to go, so he followed, pulling Moe with him.

As they entered, he almost collided with Angie and some other aide.

“We got problems,” he said.

Six

The dispatch radio spat out static. Angie turned to look. Rick, still sitting at the dispatch desk, frowned. He leaned forward and clicked the microphone.

“Max? Pete?” he said.

Static. “Rick?” Static.

Rick clicked the microphone. “Where are you guys?”

“Shit!” Static. Garbled screaming. More static.

Click. “Guys?”

Angie started walking toward Rick's desk. Nurse Paula and the other aides turned to look. Even the patients turned to look.

Rick looked worried and clicked again. “Max? Pete? Come in.”

Static. “Oh my god! Oh shit!” Static. Garbled screaming and groaning.

Angie reached Rick's back. She leaned forward to listen. Rick didn't notice. Angie peered out the glass ambulance entrance doors. She saw lights flicker outside.

“Guys?” Rick said, panic creeping into his voice.

“Oh god no!” Static. Screaming and gurgling. Wet choking sounds. Static.

Twin lights appeared outside. Approaching fast. Moving frantically side to side, but getting closer.

“Rick...” Angie started, surprised when her voice came out as a whisper.

“Max! Pete!” Rick screamed into the microphone. Only static replied. The lights were growing, huge and blaring into the emergency room.

“Rick!” Angie said, full volume now. “Oh shit.”

“Guys!” Rick yelled into the microphone.

People behind her started screaming. The lights blared. An engine roared.

“Rick!” Angie yelled. She grabbed his collar and pulled him from the chair.

The glass doors and the wall surrounding them exploded. Angie was lost in heat and noise. She fell to one side, still holding Rick's hand. The dispatch desk flew past her, slamming into something. Angie couldn't tell what. All she knew was falling and the sounds of destruction.

Then, silence. Not real silence, just relative silence after the chaos. Angie blinked. She was lying on the emergency room floor. People around her cried and whimpered. She smelled smoke. No, an engine. An overheated engine.

Her head was turned away from Rick, but she could still feel his hand in hers. She tugged. The hand was oddly stuck in place.

“Rick?” she said, then turned her head to look.

One of Rick's eyes stared at her, wide and bulging. The other eye was gone. Lost along with most of his head, crushed flat under the wheel of the ambulance.

Angie screamed and let go, scrambling to her knees. Rick's head oozed blood and a thick, gray glop. Angie felt sick.

“Oh shit,” came Freeda's voice from behind her.

Angie pushed down her vomit and stood. She looked around. Patients lined the walls, looking stunned. Aides stood with the patients. Angie barely knew any of them. They were newbies, and all clearly looked like they had quit the hospital the second the ambulance crashed through the wall.

Angie looked back at the ambulance. She spoke, her voice a hoarse whisper. “Freeda, where's Ruby?”

“Still out smoking,” said Freeda from behind her.

Angie turned to look at Freeda. “Where's Paula?”

Freeda looked around, pale. She pointed, and Angie looked. The dispatch desk was smashed against the far wall. Nurse Paula was slumped over the desk's remains. Or, at least, the top half of her was.

Angie's stomach quivered as she turned back. “Shit.”

She shook her head clear. “Okay then. Freeda, check the patients. I'll check the ambulance.”

She moved to the ambulance - careful not to look at Rick's body or even think about it - and grabbed the driver's side door handle. She tugged but the door stayed shut. The window was cracked so badly she couldn't see in.

“Everyone stay calm,” said Freeda behind her. “We'll find Nurse Ruby and Dr. Gordon and get everyone looked at.”

Angie pulled on the door again, but it was locked or stuck. “Hello?” she called and knocked on the window. “Is everyone okay?”

She stepped onto the running board and peered between the cracks in the window. The front was empty. Something dark covered the driver's seat.

She hopped down and ran to the back. She was reaching for the door when something slammed against it from the inside.

Angie was so startled she stumbled backward, tripping over rubble from the destroyed wall. The patients began to squirm and mutter.

“Please stay calm,” said Freeda to the patients. “Dr. Gordon will be here soon.”

Angie looked at Freeda. “Call Nurse Ruby.”

“What do you think I'm doing?” said Freeda, forcing a smile and holding her cell phone to her ear. “She's not answering.”

Another whump! came from inside the ambulance. The door rattled. Angie turned back to face it.

“Hold on,” she said to whomever was inside. “We're coming.”

She grabbed the handle and opened the door.

First she saw blood. Red smeared everywhere across the silver of the ambulance. The thick copper smell of it was overwhelming.

Next she saw Pete, the driver. He was lying flat on the floor, splayed with his legs toward the driver's seat. The skin of his face was peeled back toward his scalp, revealing veins, muscle and two bulging eyes. Chunks of muscle were gone, his skull showing through underneath.

Then she saw Jimmy, the gunshot victim. The kid who'd tried to stick up Ed's. He sat on the floor of the ambulance, with Max - the paramedic - across his lap. Most of Max's throat was gone. Blood covered Jimmy's lap. Jimmy reached into Max's throat and pulled out a handful of stringy connective tissue. He shoved it into his mouth and chewed.

Jimmy saw Angie and dropped Max. He groaned and reached for her.

Angie screamed and slammed the door. She could hear Jimmy scratching from the inside. The patients gasped.

“Ms. Land!” came Dr. Gordon's voice from across the room. Jimmy pushed against the door.

Dr. Gordon strode quickly to the ambulance. “I knew you were lax in your duties, but slamming doors on the injured?”

“Dr. Gordon, wait...” said Angie, struggling to hold the door shut. Jimmy groaned.

Dr. Gordon stepped up next to her. “You were damned near fired before. You're damned fired now.”

He pushed her aside and pulled on the door.

Jimmy fell forward as the door swung open. He clutched hold of Dr. Gordon's stomach.

“Whoa, there,” said Dr. Gordon. “Don't strain yourse...” Then he screamed as Jimmy bit into his stomach.

Angie screamed and pulled Dr. Gordon back. Jimmy held tight and fell out of the ambulance, his face buried in Dr. Gordon's stomach. Blood ran past Jimmy's head and onto the floor.

“Freeda!” yelled Angie. “Help!” She tugged on Dr. Gordon. But Jimmy would not come free. Jimmy moaned ecstatically and pushed his face further into Dr. Gordon. His head disappeared into Dr. Gordon's stomach.

Dr. Gordon shrieked and bucked. Blood ran from his nose and mouth. Freeda reached them and grabbed hold of Dr. Gordon's shoulders. Jimmy groaned, muffled from within Dr. Gordon's innards.

Dr. Gordon stopped shrieking and his head lolled back. Jimmy tried to push himself deeper inside. Angie put a foot on Jimmy's torso.

“Pull!” she yelled and both she and Freeda yanked back. Jimmy's head came free of Dr. Gordon with a horrible wet sound.

Angie and Freeda fell back with Dr. Gordon. Angie landed on her tail bone and pain shot through her. Freeda landed next to her. Dr. Gordon was splayed across both their laps.

Jimmy knelt where he had fallen, chewing on something. His face and shoulders were covered in blood and meat. Thick red cords ran from his mouth to Dr. Gordon's ruined abdomen. Angie blinked and realized they were intestines.

Jimmy moaned and chewed.

The patients screamed and ran in all directions.

Most of the patients rushed out the door to the waiting room. The other aides went with them. They quickly crowded together and blocked the way out. Those who were left started screaming and pulling at each other, trying to get through.

Angie sat stupefied, staring at Jimmy eating Dr. Gordon's intestines. Her tail bone smarted but she barely registered the pain.

Freeda scrambled away from Dr. Gordon's body and stood. “Come on,” she said. “Let's go.”

Angie shook her head clear. “No.”

“What? Are you crazy?”

Angie stood, doing her best to ease Dr. Gordon's body down. “We can't leave him here with the patients.” She pointed at Jimmy, who ignored them and chewed. “He can get to the patient rooms from here. Hell, he can get to the maternity ward.”

People behind her screamed and clawed at each other.

Freeda frowned. “Shit. The Wilson triplets.”

Angie nodded and wiped sweat from her face.

Freeda looked at Jimmy, then back at her. “He's fucking eating him.”

“I know,” said Angie. “Try not to look.”

The crowd behind them broke through the jam and they poured out of the room.

Freeda sighed. “You're crazy.”

“Someone has to do something.”

Jimmy groaned and looked at Freeda. He dropped the intestines and crawled toward her.

“Oh shit,” said Freeda. “This is crazy.” She backed away, hiding behind Angie.

Jimmy slowly climbed to his feet. He stared at Angie and Freeda through clouded eyes. Blood ran from his mouth.

“Okay,” said Angie, stepping back. “Jimmy? Try to calm down. I think you're on something very bad. Just try to rest, okay?”

Jimmy gurgled through the blood in his mouth and reached for them. Freeda screamed and jumped back. Angie stepped the other way. Jimmy followed Freeda.

“Anj...” said Freeda, sounding very nervous.

“Jimmy?” said Angie. “You've been in a very bad accident. I really think you should lie down.”

Jimmy grabbed at Freeda. Freeda ducked out of the way but he caught hold of her smock.

“Hey!” said Angie, shoving Jimmy.

He stumbled away from Freeda and let go. Freeda ran off to one side. Jimmy blinked his fogged eyes and gargled in blood.

Finally his attention fell on Angie.

He groaned and came at her.

“Jimmy, stop it,” said Angie, backing away, toward the ambulance.

Jimmy kept coming.

“Stop it, Jimmy!” Angie said, trying to sound forceful.

Her back met the ambulance. Jimmy drew close.

Freeda yelled and smacked Jimmy across the back of the head with something heavy. As Jimmy fell, Angie saw it was a fire extinguisher.

“Shit,” said Freeda, looking at the extinguisher and then at Angie.

“Thanks,” said Angie. “Now let's call the cops.”

Jimmy grunted and started climbing to his feet.

“Wow,” said Freeda, looking down.

Angie stepped over to Freeda. “Give me that,” she said, taking the fire extinguisher.

“Jimmy?” she said. “Please stay down. We don't want to hurt you any more.”

Jimmy finished standing.

“How hard did you hit him?” asked Angie.

“Hard,” said Freeda.

“Shit,” said Angie. Jimmy groaned and reached for her, teeth gnashing.

Angie screamed and swung the extinguisher at his head. His head snapped back and he fell over backward.

“Damn it, Jimmy,” said Angie, shaking a little. “Don't make me hurt you any more.”

Jimmy stirred and started to stand.

“Oh shit,” said Freeda.

“Jimmy, please,” said Angie. “You have to stop.” She thought about what she'd heard about Old Timmins. How he hadn't stopped until a cop shot him.

Jimmy got to his feet and grabbed Angie. He pulled her toward himself, his mouth strained open to bite.

“Anj!” yelled Freeda.

Angie pulled free and swung the fire extinguisher at the side of Jimmy's head. Fear and adrenaline fueled the blow. She almost strained her back from the force.

Jimmy's head snapped to one side. A thin line appeared on the opposite side of his neck. Dark blood seeped out.

“Oh shit,” said Angie. “I'm sorry. You're hurt bad, Jimmy. Please stop.”

Jimmy moaned and reached for Angie again. His head hung limply to one side. His mouth chewed at the air.

“Goddammit, Jimmy!” yelled Angie and swung the extinguisher the other way. Jimmy's head whipped to the other side. The skin on his neck split and with a sloppy cracking noise his head came free.

Both Angie and Freeda screamed as Jimmy's head fell to the floor and bounced. Jimmy's body slumped, blood seeping from its open neck.

“Oh shit, you killed him!” said Freeda, sounding near crying.

“I know!” said Angie, dropping the extinguisher. “But he wouldn't stop! He wouldn't fucking stop!”

Then she noticed something.

Jimmy's head lay on its cheek against the emergency room floor. But Jimmy's mouth was still moving. His cloudy eyes looked around and his teeth continued to gnash at nothing. His eyes found Angie and he ground his teeth at her.

“Okay,” said Angie. “Now I think we should go.”

Angie and Freeda ran for the doors to the waiting room, just as a crowd of people rushed in. It was the patients and aides who'd run out before. They were screaming.

They ran blindly past Angie and Freeda. Two men burst in after them. Angie recognized them as the jackass and his hurt buddy.

“We got problems,” said the jackass.

Five

Angie stepped back into the emergency room and looked around. Chaos. Every bed and chair was full. Aides scurried around, trying to attend to all the injured. Tend, hell, she thought. It looks like it's all they can do to keep up.

And all the injured had that same scared, confused look.

Dr. Gordon was gone. No nurses were in sight. Not even a free area the jackass' friend could sit.

She found Freeda, who was still tending to the wounded boy. The boy looked ill now, pale and sweating.

That's odd. He hasn't lost enough blood for that.

Freeda saw her and gave a weary smile.

Angie stepped over. “Where's Ruby? We got a guy in the waiting room who's bleeding pretty badly.”

Freeda frowned. “Dunno. Outside smoking, I guess.”

“Now? Great.”

The dispatch radio sprang to life.

* * *

Ruby cursed and took a tight-lipped drag on her cigarette. She felt ridiculous, hiding outside in the dark to smoke. She considered walking down to the east wing of the building, where the ground sloped away from the hospital and no one would be able to see her from the windows. As far as she could remember, there weren't even any patients on that wing tonight. But that would be too ridiculous. She was a grown woman.

All the same, she hoped no one saw her. Her numerous failed attempts to quit smoking were hospital legend. And she was in no mood to catch any crap about failing again. If she couldn't smoke on a night as crazy as this, when could she?

She squinted out into the dark. The only light came from the door behind her. She couldn't see anything beyond a few feet.

She took another drag. She had to hurry. The ambulance would arrive soon, and there'd be no time for smoking then.

A shuffling sound came from the dark.

“Shit,” she said, expecting an aide or even Dr. Gordon to appear and chastise her. But no one emerged.

She heard more shuffling. Then a slight groan.

Ruby frowned and took a third drag. More shuffling. Shaky, uneven footsteps. From more than two feet. Then another groan, from a different mouth.

“What the hell is going on?” she said, flicking the cigarette away and stepping into the dark.

After a few steps, she couldn't see a thing. The only light came from a few feet behind her. She heard moaning, grunting and the sounds of people stumbling.

“Is someone hurt?” she said.

Two arms landed on her shoulders. Cold hands clutched at her.

“Hey!” she said, twisting away from the arms. She was now standing facing the doorway and the only light. She heard movement next to her and took a step backward, further into the dark.

She backed into someone else. Cold arms closed clumsily around her breasts. The arms smelled awful.

“Get your hands off me!” Ruby yelled, angry now. She pulled the arms away from her. The skin on the arms felt wrong. Cold and spongy. She was wondering about that when a cold mouth closed on her ear.

She gasped as the mouth bit her ear off.

Pain shot through her head and she screamed, falling away from the arms as hot liquid ran down her cheek. She landed on her knees. She wanted to cover the wound, but it hurt too much to touch.

“What the hell is the matter with you?” Ruby shrieked into the darkness. She squinted but couldn't see anything.

A pair of legs ran into her back. Someone above her groaned and reached down, grabbing her hair. Ruby screamed and fought. The hands fumbled, a cold finger landing in the hole where her ear had been. The pain was so intense Ruby felt faint.

“Help!” Ruby yelled and wrenched away from the hands. She tried to stand but fell forward, still dizzy from pain. She landed on her stomach. Hands closed on her legs.

“Stop it!” Ruby yelled. A cold mouth closed on her calf. And bit. Teeth ground into her leg and tore a chunk free.

Ruby turned onto her back and kicked with her good leg. Something caught the leg and held tight. A second pair of hands closed on her head.

“Help!” Ruby screamed, cold fingers straying into her mouth. She fought and kicked, but the clammy hands held fast.

A third set of hands landed on her stomach. The hands fumbled with her clothes, pulling clumsily.

Ruby tried to scream but her mouth was full of cold fingers.

The hands on her stomach found skin. She heard groaning and the fingers dug into her stomach. Her shrieks were muffled as the hands pushed further into her. She felt her muscle and viscera tear. She felt bits of her being pulled out.

Then she felt nothing.

Four

Shambles, thought Angie as she stepped into the waiting room and looked around. Chairs were moved. Paper coffee cups were stacked everywhere. Magazines appeared to have been tossed around at random.

To Angie's left stood the reception desk, and Velma stood behind that. Velma had worked reception since Angie was a girl. Two men stood in front of the desk, talking to Velma. One clutched a wounded arm. Angie overheard that his name was Moe.

She moved past them and started cleaning. One of the men, the unhurt one, was complaining about having to wait to see the doctor. He sounded like a jackass.

She collected up several half-empty coffee cups and took them to a nearby trash can. Lukewarm coffee splashed on her hands as she dumped the cups inside. She cursed and wiped her hands on her smock. She looked around and saw at least three magazines nearby. She picked up two off of a nearby chair and went toward one lying on the floor just by a large window.

She knelt, picked up the magazine, then jerked back when something brushed the glass.

She stood, her heart skipping, and saw a woman pressed against the window. The woman moved feebly, writhing against the glass. Like she was trying to walk through it.

The poor thing's drunk, thought Angie as she tried to direct the woman to the doors. But the woman wasn't looking at her. The woman wasn't looking at anything, really. Her eyes were a milky yellow and her slowly opening and closing mouth revealed a swollen, gray tongue.

“Oh my god,” Angie said, stepping back.

She heard movement behind her. Her back tightened and she spun around.

Dr. Gordon stood there. He was a short man with a lean face and a comb-over.

“Dr. Gordon,” she said, breathing out. “Um, Nurse Ruby told me to clean up...”

He gave a little shake of his head to indicate he wasn't interested. “Ms. Land, I was just talking with Mr. Paulson's family.”

“Oh, right,” Angie said. “Mr. Paulson's saying he doesn't want...”

“Mr. Shuab told me you're trying to give medical advice.”

Angie's cheeks tightened with heat. “No, sir, I was just...”

He shook his head again, dislodging his thin bangs. “You don't seem to realize what your duties are. And I must say I'm tired of complaints about your attitude.”

Angie's first thought was to punch him. She'd never hit anyone before, but this little fucker had asked for it night after night. She needed this job, but damn it would be fun to...

Something bumped the glass behind her. She'd forgotten about the woman at the window.

“Sir, I think there's a woman who needs help,” she said, turning to the window. The woman was gone. Only smears on the glass remained.

“Ms. Land!” Dr. Gordon shouted.

Angie spun back to see him fuming and readjusting his hair. “I'm afraid that's all I can take. If you can't even do the courtesy of looking at me while I'm talking to you, then...”

“Sir, please...”

“No, I'm sorry. I'm going to recommend the hospital board fire you.”

“What?” Angie said. “You can't...”

“Now I hate to be a man who uses his connections, but I'm afraid I have no choice. If I were you, I'd start looking for other work.”

He turned and walked toward the emergency room. Angie watched him go.

He couldn't.

Dr. Gordon pushed the emergency room doors open and walked through. The doors swung shut.

Angie blinked. She opened her mouth, then shut it.

He couldn't. He didn't have the authority.

But he did have the friends. A whole board-of-directors full.

So maybe he could after all.

Shambles, thought Angie as she sat down in the closest chair she could find, next to a soda machine. It hummed in her ear, but she barely noticed. She stared at the floor.

Call home.

Why not?

She took out her phone and started dialing.

* * *

Ten Minutes Earlier

“I don't believe this,” said Park, drumming his fingers on the reception counter. “Can't you see how bad he's bleeding?”

“Be nice, Park,” murmured Moe, clutching his arm. “It's not that bad.”

“I understand, sir,” said the fat old bitty behind the counter. “But we are unusually busy tonight. Just have a seat and the doctor will be with you as soon as possible.”

“Great,” said Park. “Just great.” He paused to watch a woman in a hospital smock walk by. Angie, her name tag said. He turned back to the fat old bitty. “Thanks for the heaping help of jack fuck.”

“Come on,” said Moe, wincing slightly. “Let's sit.”

Park grudgingly followed Moe to a chair and plopped down next to him. He ran a hand through his long hair, scratched at his stubble and absently watched “Angie” pick up magazines and cups around the room.

“Damn it,” he muttered to no one in particular.

“Just try to relax,” said Moe. Park turned back to see Moe looking at his red-stained palm. Moe put his hand back on his wound. “I'm the one who got bit.”

Park sighed. “Yeah, I know. I'm just in a shitty mood.”

Moe chuckled. “You're always in a shitty mood. You were born in a shitty mood. You wake up every morning in a shitty mood. And when you die, the doctors will tell your wife 'At least he died peacefully, in a shitty mood.'”

Park grunted. “Ex-wife. And I doubt she'd work up enough of a shit to show up.” He hiked up one hip and fished around in his pocket for change. He cursed, switched hips and tried the other. This time he found some coins. “I saw a soda machine on the way in. You want one?”

“Don't know what I'd do with a soda machine,” said Moe. “Doubt I could even carry it in my condition.”

“Hey, it's the funniest fuck in fuck town,” said Park. “You know what I mean, dipshit. Do you want a soda?”

“What I want is a beer,” said Moe.

“You're in a hospital, Moe.” Park looked around for the machine. Angie was talking to a balding man. She looked pissed.

Park looked back to Moe and smirked. “So you obviously can't have a fucking beer. What you can fucking have is a fucking soda.” He rattled the coins in his hand. “Do you want one or not?”

Moe smirked back and shrugged. “Sure.”

“Fine,” said Park. He started to stand. The balding man walked past him on the way to the emergency room. Park sat back down and watched him go.

Park grunted. “Sure,” he said loudly enough for the fat old bitty to hear. “He gets to go in.”

“That was the doctor,” said the fat old bitty.

“You shitting me?” said Park. “That was the doctor? Thanks for fucking telling him we got a hurt man here.”

The fat old bitty sighed. “Please, sir, just be patient. I will let you know when he can see you.”

Park snorted and stood. “Yeah, well, don't fucking hurt yourself rushing to help.” He turned and walked to the soda machine.

Angie was sitting next to the machine. She stared at her cell phone as she slowly punched numbers in.

“Hey,” said Park. “Not to interrupt whatever chat you're about to have, but my friend is hurt pretty bad. Are you people gonna get off your asses and do something?”

Angie looked up at him. She was mad, and Park was used to people being mad at him. But there was something else in her eyes. It took Park a second to recognize it.

Despair.

Then it was gone. “Sure,” she said, snapping the phone shut. “But I'm just an aide. At least for tonight. I'll get you a nurse.”