Chapter 17 - Remi
It’s weird being back in Elkhorn after three years and it pains me to see everything that used to be beautiful and welcoming look like crap. The streets are littered with trash and abandoned cars. Many of the columns in front of the buildings are stained with blood which are remnants of when the military came in, trying to stop the chaos. The once-bustling buildings are now silent and empty. Well, I know they aren’t empty. I suppose I mean that they are empty of life. I can smell the decay in the air, the three years of rotting greyskins. People have another name for this place: the Epicenter. Most believe that this is where it all began. I guess it’s true. As a student here I didn’t think much about where the madness came from. None of us really had time to think. One day students were going to class, the next we were being attacked by these monsters that used to be people.
I will never forget the first greyskin I encountered. His name was Andy. I sat next to him in English class before the outbreak. He was a smart guy, but he didn’t talk much. That day, so many of us were running in a panic. I couldn’t find my friends. I remember seeing Andy and calling out to him. When he turned his head I could see that he had changed into one of them…one of those creatures. At that time, the greyskins were nameless. I’m not exactly sure where the word greyskin came from, probably the news, but the name described Andy well. His skin looked like ash and his eyes had darkened. I remember trying to call out to him, but when he came toward me I knew he wasn’t coming to my aid. He was coming to bite me, to scratch me, eat me. I remember seeing a police officer shoot him down right in front of me. I was in shock. The police officer was telling me to get somewhere safe, but before he could finish his sentence, two more greyskins were on top of him, ripping his skin from his bones.
Elkhorn is one of the last places I want to be right now. I'd rather be anywhere but here, but if I’m going to be allowed back into Crestwood, I need to find something out about Jessi Paxton. I know it’s probably a stupid idea. I know Paxton has probably sent me on a death mission, but what else can I do? It’s not like I know of any other safe haven. But if I can, I would like to be back at Crestwood, even if that means helping Gabe uncover whatever this plot is about Shadowface.
The grey clouds roll in through the distance, casting a dark shadow across the university. It’s going to rain, I think to myself. Rain is good for disguising steps, but it’s bad for keeping warm. As a gust of wind hits me from behind, I become more thankful of the coat Gabe gave me.
My enhanced hearing can sense the shuffling of greyskins all around me, though none of them have noticed my presence. I can see one or two in the street up ahead, but I won’t be going that way. I cut through an alley (something I hate to do with the limited space) because on the other side I will come to the road directly across from the university hospital.
It’s one of the last places that I want to go, but if Robert Paxton’s daughter is the same Jessi Paxton that I knew in college, then she was pregnant. If she was pregnant then she would have more than likely gone to the Elkhorn University Hospital to have the baby. If that was true, then they would have a medical record on her at the maternity ward. I know it’s a shot in the dark. There are so many factors that could go against me.
What if it’s not the same girl? What if she went home to have the baby? What if she never even had the baby? What if her name was actually Jessi Roberts and not Jessi Paxton and you’re just confused? What if you’re wrong? Wrong! Wrong! Wrong! Don’t go into the hospital, stupid! Do you know how many greyskins will be in there? Go on, take a listen.
I try to ignore my inner voice as I approach the hospital parking lot. I duck behind a car when I see a greyskin in an EMT uniform walking through the forever-stuck sliding glass doors of the ER. I try to remember the inside of the hospital, but I’ve only been here once. When I was a freshmen, I had been playing intramural flag football and some jock decided to play tackle. Well, his tackle broke my ankle and he ended up taking me to the emergency room to get it fixed. I remember he tried to turn it into a silly, romantic moment that would send us spiraling into a life-long love affair like some cheesy chick-flick, but I quickly told him off, using language that would make a sailor blush. Needless to say, we didn’t go on any dates afterword.
I close my eyes trying to remember the layout of the ER, but all I can remember is the waiting room and having to sit there for two hours before someone would see me. I will have to go in and follow the signs like everyone else, I suppose. I’m glad Gabe thought to give me a machete along with the guns. Guns are great, but there is no way I would survive this hospital with them. One shot would be enough to bring about thirty greyskins down on me. Then I would be forced to shoot more. Then more greyskins would come. Here, there would be no end in sight.
I pull the newly sharpened blade from the sheath and hold it by the short handle. It’s a good weight in my hands and I like that the blade is longer than my forearm. The farther away from the greyskins, the better off I am. I stand up from behind the car and begin walking toward the entrance of the ER. The noise from inside tells me that there are many greyskins, but none within the immediate vicinity besides Mr. EMT. When the greyskin notices me, it lets out a short groan and starts making its way toward me. This one is slow; a foot drags as some bone protrudes through the middle of his pant leg. This one must have fallen down some steps.
I feel a rush of confidence as I swing forward and imbed the machete into the greyskin’s skull. Black blood splatters over my hands and the creature stops moving and falls to the cement with ease. I think about wiping off the blade for only a second before I realize that it’s pointless. The shuffling of feet within the hospital seems to be everywhere. I take a deep breath, knowing I’m going to have to face whatever is inside.
I crouch when I get to the front door. Peering around the corner, I see a dead body hunched over the side of the front desk. The halls beyond are dark and there are very few windows to light the way. There probably hasn’t been electricity in this building for two and a half years or more. At the front desk, the dead body’s head pulls up to look at me. Its aged decrepit chest, sticky with dried blood, is glued to the desktop. I can’t take a chance of this thing finding the strength to rip free and come after me so I lift my blade and stab it through the temple and it falls back down to its previous sleeping position.
I walk past the front desk and into the hallway beyond. On one of the walls there is a directory with all of the departments. My stomach drops when I see that the maternity ward is on the fourth floor. Why would they make pregnant ladies have to go up so many floors? Why would they make me go up so many floors?
I walk past the elevators and to the stairwell but I pause when I get to the door. I hate stairs. Ever since the outbreak, stairs have been my biggest fear. It’s the worst part of any building. First of all, when there are greyskins above you, it’s nearly impossible to get a good head stab in without getting too close. Then, when multiple greyskins are after you, running up makes you exhausted while the dead feel no tiredness. Running down, the greyskins just fall over each other without regard to their own safety, whereas you must take every step with caution, for a sprained ankle in a stairwell means becoming a greyskin’s dinner.
I hold my breath and try to listen beyond the door. I hear two, maybe three greyskins walking down the stairs toward the basement level and at least four greyskins on the landing just above me. I need to go to a different stairwell. Going up four flights just might prove too much. I turn my ear toward the hallway beyond, but I can’t even count the number of feet I hear walking slowly. It won’t do. Going down the hall will only bring more than I can handle while I’m fairly certain I can handle the four above me.
I open the door and step into the stairwell. I’m lucky because the greyskins seem to be walking up which means I should be able to take out at least two of them from behind before the others turn on me. I pause before going up. I can feel the jitters creeping into my limbs, but I know I can’t let it get to me.
I take each step as quietly as I can. The greyskins don’t even see me until I’ve got my blade stuck inside the skull of the first one. I pull it out and swipe at the next, clipping it at the jaw. The other two are screaming toward me. I slide the machete up under the chin of the one in front, but I’m forced to let go of the handle as the next greyskin grabs at my coat. I try not to let out a scream, but it’s almost impossible. The greyskins are not known for their sure footing so I reach out and grab it by the shoulders, and at the same time kick my foot at its ankles. It starts to fall down the flight of stairs but hangs upright only because of its death grip on my coat. I try to hit its grubby hands away from me, but it feels no pain. Its jaws chomp at me as it pulls itself back toward me to take a chunk of my flesh. Finally, I pull my arms from the sleeves and slip out of the coat and the greyskin tumbles down the stairs. Bones crack all the way down, its fingers still clutching my coat and taking my backpack and rifle with it. As I reach down and pull out the machete, I notice the greyskin that had been moving toward the basement must have sensed the commotion. Now it is running up the stairs toward me. It stumbles over the crumpled form of the greyskin clutching my coat and falls to its knees, crawling like an injured animal desperate to catch its dinner. I take one or two steps down and swing my machete into what’s left of its brain and it stops moving.
Despite the cold, I have to wipe the sweat from my forehead. I try not to let my hands shake, but there is no way to calm my nerves. My fingers tremble as I grip the machete and my knees quiver as I take the steps back down to the first floor. I can leave my coat, I can leave my backpack full of supplies, but I can’t leave my rifle even though the pistol is attached to my hip. I lean down and pry open the fingers of the greyskin, releasing my coat from its grip. I pull it on and sling the backpack over my shoulders. I then sling my rifle over my head where the strap crosses over my chest. Machete in hand, I tiptoe up the stairs quietly.
My ears tell me there’s nothing else between me and the fourth floor so I hurry my steps until I reach the door. When I put my ear up to the door, I don’t hear anything. I open it and step into the hallway. My heart pounds in my ears and I’m afraid it might keep me from hearing what’s ahead. One after the other my feet carry me forward. A glance at a sign hanging from the ceiling tells me that the maternity ward is on the other side of the wing. It’s probably only a few hundred feet away, but it looks like miles. The walk there is quiet enough, however. I try to listen for any movement ahead, but there is still nothing. I feel a sense of relief once I stand in front of the door of the maternity ward because I can see the registration desk only a few feet in front of me, a wall of filing cabinets lined behind the desk chair.
I open the door and sneak through quietly and search the filing cabinets. P…P…I can’t see a thing. I pull off my backpack and unzip the top. Maybe Gabe provided me with a flashlight. I sort through the bag, a can of beans… tuna… Swiss Army Knife…flashlight! I pull it out and switch it on, scanning the filing cabinets for P. Once I find it, I open it as slowly as possible and I see about a million files. It’s a good thing Elkhorn University Hospital’s Maternity Ward still used a paper system. When I had come to the ER, I found it annoying to fill out all that paperwork, but I’m glad now.
I flip through the first ones until I finally come to the name Paxton. Paxton… Paxton… Paxton… There are eight Paxtons, total. I thumb through the first file and I hear a noise down the hall. I let a curse pass my lips in a whisper and I switch off the light. I listen for more movement, but it sounds like it’s just one greyskin at the other end moving about aimlessly. I flip on the flashlight again and pick up the next file. Not her. The next file isn’t her. Then the next. On the fifth file, I start to lose hope that Jessi had her baby at Elkhorn University Hospital. Maybe she didn’t have the baby at all.
But then I get to the sixth file. My heart bangs against my chest when I see the name. Jessi M. Paxton. It’s her! I look for a birthdate and she’s as old as I am. The baby was born three years ago. It’s her! Apparently her baby was named Evelyn. Poor Evelyn and Jessi are probably dead now.
I hear another noise, this time a crash from the other side of the ward. I flick off the flashlight and stuff it and the file into my backpack and sling it over my shoulders. I pick up the machete from the floor and creep back to the registration desk. I try as hard as I can to listen for the source of the crash, but I can’t hear anything except for a tiny groan behind me. My stomach leaps into my throat as I turn. All I can see is a shadow as a greyskin wearing the scrubs of a nurse stumbles forward. I accidentally let out a yelp as a fall backwards onto the chair next to me. As I pull myself up, I swing for the greyskin’s head but I miss.
I never miss!
The blade slams into the side of the filling cabinet and the handle breaks off in my hand. The greyskin is on top of me now and it’s all I can do to roll away as it grabs onto my foot. I pull the pistol from my belt, knowing that if I don’t I’ll be dead, even though the noise will bring every greyskin in the hospital to me. I let off a single shot into the nurses’ (greyskin’s) head and it slumps to the floor. I can still hear the ringing in my ears a moment later as I drag myself into the hallway. On my belly, gun in hand, I look both ways: once toward the door and then toward the rest of the maternity ward. I can’t help but freeze when I see what comes out of the room beyond. Doctors…nurses…patients. My stomach wrenches when I see a greyskin walking out in a large gown, her stomach protruding.
I pull myself up to my feet and charge out through the doors but I stop in my tracks when at least eight greyskins make their way toward me, walking as though they have all the time in the world. But I don’t. Either I go the familiar way I came and face more greyskins, or I go back through the maternity ward and hope I don’t run into more than three. I shake my head. It’s always better to know where you’re going.
With the machete broken and gone, I walk forward and lift my pistol in front of me, taking careful aim at the first greyskin’s head. It drops to the floor. The others start to come at me a little more quickly. I’ve got to be quick. I let off three more rounds, three more greyskins fall.
Boom! Boom! Boom! Three more fall on top of the pile. The shots make the ringing in my ears worse and I know its only a matter of seconds before more come out to investigate. I shoot the next two, but hit the last one at the neck. No good. I pull the trigger but this time there is only the sound of an empty magazine. I curse and let the magazine drop as I reach into the side pocket of the backpack. The doors behind me crash open and the greyskin in front of me is getting closer. My fingers fumble with the loaded magazine and I almost drop it. I jam it up into the gun and pull back on the chamber. I fire at the greyskin in front of me, hitting it in the chest. Another shot finds its mark right in the forehead.
The greyskins behind me are moving fast. I jump over the pile of bodies and sprint to the stairwell. I take the steps four at a time, knowing that it’s never a good idea to be so careless. I could run into a greyskin, sprain an ankle…either one could be the end of me. I finally make it to the first floor and I can feel my heart beating quickly, my escape now within reach.
I open the door, rush into the hallway, and I instantly wish that I didn’t. I have no idea how many greyskins I see to my left rushing toward me. There have to be at least twenty or thirty, and there are even more blocking my exit. I run back through the door onto the stairwell and slam the door shut. I immediately feel the push of greyskins against it. I can see the rotting faces of them through the narrow window in the middle. Their black eyes are lifeless, but their teeth are black, yellow, and sharp. Their hands beat against the door and I know that soon I won’t be able to hold them back.
A hand breaks through the window, not flinching from the glass that slices its skin with drooling black blood. With my shoulder pressed firmly against the door, I pull up the pistol and begin firing through the opening. I feel some relief from the pushing for a few seconds, but it has bought me no time and there is no chance I will be able to hold the door for much longer. As I lean against the door and survey the stairwell in front of me, I try to think of where I could go, another exit I could take out of here.
Another thump against the door and the shoving begins again. I sit my butt on the ground and try to stay as firm as a rock, but my weight won’t be enough to hold the door closed for very long. I’m too distracted to listen to my surroundings, but the crashing door up above me is loud enough for anyone to hear. The sound of hurried footsteps and hungry groans echo off the walls as the greyskins begin their descent down the stairs toward me.
This is it, I think. I took a chance and I lost. I’m fulfilling my death sentence from Crestwood.
My pistol is empty so I swing my rifle in front of me and hold it as steady as I can with my back shoved against the door. As I try to listen, I think I can hear five or more coming for me, but does it matter? I’ll waste my bullets on these and then I will be empty-handed. With no weapon, I have no defense, and every greyskin in the building senses my presence. I hold a firm grip on the rifle and fire a shot at the first greyskin I see. It falls to the bottom of the steps only a foot in front of me, but it is followed by six more.
I take a deep breath as a tear slides down the side of my cheek - the first time I’ve cried since…
I fire all but one of my bullets into the six and they all crumple to the floor. More will come down or up the stairs, it won’t matter. Anywhere I try to go, I will only find more greyskins, and one bullet means I might as well have nothing. The pushing against the door is getting heavier. I can’t imagine the death they will give me. I can’t think of what it feels like to have their teeth and nails sink into my skin, ripping away muscles and crunching on my bones.
I look down at my rifle, knowing that a single bullet remains. I know it will only take a slight movement. I won’t feel any pain. Sure, the greyskins will have my body, but I won’t know it. I won’t turn into one of them. I no longer have a giant pit in my stomach consuming me. Now, I feel a wave of relief, knowing that I don’t have to be one of them, that I don’t have to feel fear anymore.
The final bullet will take me away from here. Here is hell on earth. Here is pain and suffering.
Anywhere but here.
I turn the gun around and hold the barrel, the end resting under my chin. It feels hot, but I don’t have time to worry about such a trivial problem. I rest the stock on the floor and extend my arm so my thumb can slide over the trigger.
Another tear streaks down the side of my face as a hold the door closed, my thumb beginning to press down.
Anywhere but here. This life is too much anyway. This world is hopeless. My last bullet… It can take me anywhere but here.
The door swings in a few inches and the rifle falls to the floor. I’m forced to use my hands and feet to push as hard as I can.
I just need a second!
I hold myself against the door as I reach down and pull up the rifle again. The barrel is cooler this time when the skin under my jaw presses against the metal. My thumb finds the trigger again.
Can I do this to myself? I didn’t come here ready to die.
I close my eyes to embrace the bullet. Anywhere but here.
Boom!
The shot is deafening, but I feel no heat, no pain, just as I expected. However, I am still very conscious. How?
Boom! Boom! Boom!
The door becomes still as the greyskins stop pushing against it. My eyes travel to the trigger and I realize that I haven’t even attempted to pull it. I set the gun on the ground and sit on my knees, staring through the broken glass in the door. There are at least five men, raiders probably. No doubt they heard my shots and came running in here to see what I’ve looted.
They will be sorely disappointed.
My heart is pounding as I watch them take out the entire first floor of greyskins with such grace as though they did this every day. I suddenly realize that they are going to find me, so I might as well let them know I am here without them mistaking me as a greyskin.
“Help!” I yell out. I set my gun on the ground and raise my hands in the air. I can hear the footsteps of greyskins both coming up and down the stairs. “Help!” I yell out again.
The door in front of me swings open and two men burst through. “Get on the floor!” the first one yells. I lie flat and press my cheek against the cold floor as more shots ring out and they blow the heads off the greyskins coming up and down the stairs.
I was about to kill myself. I wonder if I should have done it anyway. I don’t know who these men are. Would it have been better to kill myself than to be raped and then killed by these strangers? I took a chance, and now I’m going to have to live with the consequences. I just hope I don’t live to regret my decision.
The two men pull me up by my coat and force me into the hallway. The bodies of greyskins lie everywhere and I quickly remember what it used to be like to travel with a group. In a group, I could have gotten to the medical records more easily.
They pull me to the front of the hospital until they set me on my knees just in front of the sliding doors. I count all the people around me. There are five men and two women. One of the men stands at the center. He only carries a pistol in a holster on his belt. He has a thick, black beard and olive skin. His brown eyes stare into me like he’s never come across another person before.
“What’s your name?” he asks me as one of his men takes off my backpack and begins to rummage through it. Another gives the leader my rifle and pistol.
“None of your business.”
“What are you doing here?” the leader asks.
“Looking for supplies.”
The leader looks at his man that’s searching my backpack and the man hands it to him.
“Beans,” the leader says, fumbling through the bag, “pocket knife, fish…” He pulls out Jessi’s medical file. “These aren’t really the supplies I thought one would go into a hospital to find.”
“I’m looking for someone,” I say this time.
“New story, eh?”
“Why do you care?” I can feel my cheeks beginning to turn red. “Just do what you want with me and let me go.”
The leader shakes his head and motions for one of his men to grab me. “I don’t think so,” he says. “We’re going to take you in, question you.”
“What, are you pretending to be cops?”
“I do police this territory, yes,” the leader says. He thumbs through the file. “I don’t know you so I’m taking you in.”
My stomach sinks at his words. This could mean a lot of things. Long hours of questioning. Maybe there won’t be questions at all and they will do nothing but have their way with me until I’m withered away - this being the more likely scenario.
I should have pulled the trigger. I should have ended it myself. I wish I was anywhere but here.
The leader looks at the man who’s got a hold of me and nods. I’m about to say something when I feel a sharp pain in the back of my head and all I see is black.