Sixteen

Angie heard movement coming from the utility closet. She stepped away from the nurse's desk and ran over.

Park was coming down the ladder, a rifle slung over one shoulder.

"My god," she said. "I can't believe that honestly worked."

Park snorted. "Thanks a lot." He stepped away from the ladder.

Kristen was kneeling by Mr. Paulson's wheelchair, helping Freeda check the oxygen tank. She stood up and walked over to the closet. "Sam? Where's Sam? We heard a lot of noise."

Sam appeared on the ladder. "I bet you did. That was genius-boy smashing the outside ladder. We aren't getting out that way now." He dropped to the bottom of the closet and adjusted his glasses.

"We weren't getting out that way before, anyway," said Park. He pulled a box of ammo from his pocket and started loading the rifle.

"Well, it's nice to have options," said Sam. He nodded to Kristen, who smiled and walked back over to Mr. Paulson.

"Okay," said Angie, checking her cell phone for any missed calls. There were none. "Let's get ready to move." She nodded to Freeda, who nodded back. Dear God, let my kids be okay.

Sam was frowning about something. "Give me a second," he said, stepping into the hallway. "Gotta get this thing loaded."

* * *

Sam stepped into the hallway and fumbled with his gun. Dammit, Kristen hadn't even touched him. He'd nearly died out there, and she hadn't even touched him.

Her dad. Always her dad. She barely looked at Sam anymore.

Of course he'd said okay when the old man needed to move in. How could he not? But the old man took so much damned time and attention. Sam was forty-five and childless. They'd never have children at this rate. Hell, the old man was their child. A vulgar, hateful child.

Hot tears stung his eyes and he took off his glasses to rub them. No time for this. No time for crying or for being a whiny little bitch about life. Time to man up.

He put the glasses back on and felt around in his pocket for the box of ammo.

Moaning came from the nearest patient room.

Panic shot up Sam's back. How'd those things get inside? How many of them were there?

Then he realized. It was just Park's friend.

He breathed out and started to the others for help. Then he cursed himself.

Fuck, does the pussy need help checking on some sick asshole? Dammit, Shuab, be a man!

He sighed and stepped into the patient room.

The sick guy was lying on the bed, moving his head from side to side. The guy's eyes were cloudy and his mouth chewed slowly at nothing.

"Hey, Moe? It is Moe, right? Are you okay?"

Moe said nothing. He moved his head around and moaned. He hadn't blinked since Sam had entered.

"Looks like we'll be getting out of here soon, thanks to your buddy's guns," Sam continued.

Moe said nothing.

"Well, fuck you then. What do I look like, a nurse?"

Sam turned to leave. Moe let out a long groan.

Sam turned back. "Shit, that sounded bad. You okay?" He stepped over to look down at Moe.

His glasses slipped down his nose. Sam cursed and took them off. "Hate these things."

Moe sat up and bit.

Moe's teeth closed on Sam's cheek and eye. Skin gave way and peeled back. Sam's eye was punctured. Blood and something thicker ran down Sam's cheek as his body shook involuntarily. Hot pain shot through Sam's head and for a moment he was too shocked to scream. Moe's head slid down to Sam's throat and bit. Sam felt a chunk of his neck pull free. He tried to scream then and couldn't. His voice box was gone. Moe moaned and chewed.

Sam's knees buckled and he dropped. Blood flowed fast. He tried crawling for the door. He was getting weak fast. Moe dropped off the bed onto Sam's back. Sam felt Moe biting into the back of his head. Scalp and hair tore away.

Oh shit, Kristen. Kristen. I'm sorry.

He felt dizzy. Far away from the sounds of Moe chewing.

Then he was dead.

* * *

Angie spun away from Freeda as a loud "thump" came from the hallway. Everyone stopped what they were doing.

"Shit," she said. "What was that?"

"Dunno," said Park as he finished loading the rifle. He slung the gun over his shoulder. "Let's see."

Angie and Park rushed into the hallway, then turned to enter Moe's room. Angie gasped when she saw.

Moe straddled Sam's body, chewing at an open wound in the back of Sam's head. Sam's head rocked from side to side in rhythm with Moe's bites.

"Oh god," said Angie.

"Oh dammit, Moe," said Park.

Mr. Paulson's voice came from the nurse's station. "What the fuck is it now?"

Park took the rifle from his shoulder. Moe looked up at Park. He moaned, a hunk of Sam's flesh falling from his mouth.

Angie turned to Park. "Listen to me, Parker. He's not your friend anymore and..."

Park fired right through Moe's brain. Moe fell backward, legs splayed, and slumped against the side of the bed. His head fell to one side. He was still.

"Yeah," said Park, lowering the rifle. "No shit." Park sniffed and rubbed his eyes.

"Sam!" shrieked Kristen from behind them. She pushed past and rushed to Sam's body. "Oh god, god no! No!" She knelt and cradled his head. Blood and muck ran down her lap. "Honey! No!"

Angie swallowed. "I'm so sorry..."

"The hell you are!" Kristen yelled. "Sam was right! This is all your fault! You led us back here!"

"Listen lady," said Park, leveling the rifle at Sam. "You're going to have to move."

Kristen gasped and pulled Sam's body closer. "You keep away from him!"

"What the hell are you doing in there?" yelled Mr. Paulson from the nurse's station.

Freeda ran back and saw. "Oh shit."

Park sighed and lowered the gun. "What the fuck lady? He's already dead."

Kristen sobbed and clutched Sam's body. "You are NOT going to shoot him!"

Angie turned to Park. "Listen. It looks like the head's already injured, so maybe..."

Park shook his head. "Not deep enough. We have to be sure."

Angie turned back. Kristen was sobbing and rocking Sam's body back and forth. "Listen, Kristen..."

"Shut up!" Kristen shrieked.

"I'm all alone out here, dammit!" yelled Mr. Paulson from the nurse's station.

Kristen sobbed.

Angie spoke as softly as she could. "Kristen, we have to be sure. You saw what happened to Moe. If we aren't sure, he'll get back up and he won't be your husband." She felt like a fraud. If her kids were dead, she'd be done. Would she listen to anyone trying to give her perspective?

Please God, please, don't let my kids be dead.

Kristen looked down and sobbed.

"Will some-fucking-one please come help the crippled fucking old man!" yelled Mr. Paulson.

Kristen took a deep, ragged breath and nodded. "Okay. But let me do it."

Park frowned, lowering the rifle further. "You know how to use this?"

Kristen nodded and wiped her eyes. "I know enough."

Angie nodded and took the gun from Park. "Okay then. Here." She handed the rifle to Kristen. Kristen's hands shook as she took it.

"Thank you," said Kristen.

"We'll give you a moment," said Angie, turning back toward the door. Park was blocking the way.

He frowned at her. "You sure about this?"

Angie nodded. "Yeah. Let's go."

Angie, Park and Freeda moved slowly back out to the nurse's station. Mr. Paulson was complaining and yelling for his daughter, but Angie couldn't focus on the words. They all waited nearly ten minutes.

A shot came from the other room. And the sound of Kristen sobbing.