What to Do

She woke to the familiar sound of crying. Slowly she rose from the hospital bed, dragged herself across the room, and lifted a baby from its crib. 

She cooed an apology, “I’m sorry, there is no more.” 

The other babies began to fuss. They were getting hungry. 

She had locked the door four days ago, to find the three infants in their cribs, sleeping peacefully, unaware of the horrors that were happening in the world outside. 

Five days ago she was a doctor. Four days ago she became the infant’s only caregiver. Three days ago she began to feel like a prisoner. Yesterday she decided to be a survivor. 

There hadn't been an empty bed at Saint Elizabeth’s in months. Patients would come in with a small fever and an irritating rash. The symptoms would rapidly worsen.  Over weeks the patient’s fever would persist, their skin turning a pale pink as their hair fell out. Around a month their limbs began to fail as they performed menial tasks. Then their minds would fade. She had hopelessly watched as many people crumpled into a painful, confused existence. She had endured their yelps of agony, and had been tortured by the feeling of not knowing what to do. 

“There was nothing I could do.” she reminded the infants. 

Picking up another baby, she paced the room. Ignoring the hideous moans coming from beyond the door she tried to make sense of it. The final stage of the illness was unlike anything she had ever seen. The patient's skin opened in long gashes, the edges folding in gnarled clumps of sickly sweet smelling flesh. The horrible festering wounds would split open in minutes, as if something was ripping them open from the inside. Like something was trying to escape. 

They would be dead in minutes. 

Or so it seemed. 

The first round of patients had been unprecedented. She shuddered, remembering the sight of the first people who perished in this ungodly fashion. She held the little ones closely as she remembered the eyes of the dead man. She had rushed into the room with a nurse. They had heard the man yelling, and raced to his aid.

They had just switched off the machines, exhausted. They had tried everything they could, but nothing could improve the man’s condition. The once strong man had wilted into a  bloody husk.

She could never have guessed that his reanimated corpse would possess twice the strength he once had. She was lucky to get away. The nurse was not. The man had been dead for a few minutes when he sprang out of the bed with a snarl. Running at the nurse, the man violently swung his split, bloody hands. The nurse hit the ground. With no chance to react, he sank his teeth around the nurse’s throat. Swollen, bloody gums gleamed through his now torn cheeks. 

She had slammed the door in fright, trapping the creature inside. 

There was nothing she could do.

Many people had begged for death, to be released from the pain, and the knowledge of what they would become. People began taking drastic measures. Poison. Pills. Guns. Some jumped, not realizing a three story fall doesn't always kill you. 

Amidst all this chaos three healthy, beautiful babies had been born. 

She had been so consumed with death, she had forgotten the possibilities that came with new life. The excitement. The joy. The responsibility. 

She had run into this room because she had no other options. It was that or face the mass of corpses hungrily ransacking the hospital. She had no clue if the horde had come from the outside, or if it was made up of her patients and coworkers. A little of both, she figured. 

“There was nothing I could do.” she proclaimed again, tears gathering in her eyes.

She laughed as she let the hopelessness sink in.

***

She was not a large woman. Hospital work and the health of others had consumed much of her recent years. The thought of running with the infants strapped to her made her feel ill. She tried to remember the last time she had run. Summer days during her undergraduate degree flashed in her mind. She used to be fast, or at least she always told herself she was. In the poorly lit hospital room those bright sunny days fell even further away. She swallowed deeply as she looked slowly around the room. 

Each infant was wrapped in a blanket. She could use those to carry them. One on each side, one in the middle. She looked towards the window. They were on the third floor. There was a gutter within reach. She considered climbing down. She looked down at her small, soft hands. They were made for healing, not climbing. She shook her head and looked back towards the door. 

Food was the first problem.  She would have to make it to the supply closet down the hall. There was baby formula there. Her own stomach growled, an unfriendly reminder that she had not consumed anything but sips of formula for four days. Her head spun as she tried to remember the fastest route to the cafeteria. The stairs were close, just past the supply closet.

The thought of action made her blood move, thick and slow through dehydrated veins. She wrapped the first infant around her left side. The poor thing fussed but didn’t cry as she adjusted her makeshift baby carrier. She got the infant tight to her body and the baby let out what could have been a smile. Tiny little teeth shone at her and her heart fluttered. Teeth on a newborn were rare. 1 out of every 3000. She couldn't help but feel this was a sign of luck. 

“We can do this.” She told the toothy infant. 

She strapped another baby to her right side. A small tuft of blonde hair sprouted from its head. It blinked at her in disbelief, she got the impression it wanted to stay in its small, warm bed. She mumbled an apology. Her blood slowed. She wished they could stay too.

“We can do this.” she told the tuft infant.

She grabbed the last infant. It screamed and wailed in protest. It’s face turned bright red. She tried to soothe it. It was like she wasn’t even there. The babe sucked in an incredible amount of air and let out a shriek.

CRASH!

Something hit the door violently. Muffled pounding at the base of the door followed. Wet, frustrated mouth sounds made their way under the door. A small amount of dark blood oozed its way in. The babies at her side began to squirm, one let out a whimper. The third infant continued to wail. Her gaze shifted uncomfortably between the door and the third infant. 

“There’s nothing I can do.” she told the third infant. 

She sat cross legged on the floor humming wordless lullabies to the babies, and waited for them to fall asleep. 

***

She woke from her brief and uncomfortable sleep. Slowly, and stiffly she rose from her seated position. She had not taken the two sleeping infants off of her. She had to be ready to leave. She pressed her ear against the door and held her breath. She listened past the pounding in her temple and heard nothing. She opened the door. Cluttered emptiness, and silence greeted her. She grabbed her meager supplies, two babies, a first aid kit, and some baby bottles.

“We can do this.” she quietly cried, and shut the door behind her. 

She did not look back. She did not pause. 

Her light footsteps felt like the thunder of hooves as she briskly bounded to the stairwell. The hallway was poorly lit, a strange silver lining. Narrow strips of moonlight revealed dark reds and browns, glimmering faintly as they lost their freshness. She bolstered herself and blinked the tears from her eyes. She held the babies tighter, knowing any of the dark shapes she passed could attack. 

They entered the supply closet unhindered. She quickly gathered as much formula as she could carry, placing it in the empty blanket she had wrapped around the middle of her chest. 

“There was nothing I could do.” 

She blinked back tears. The stairs were right across the hall. Next to them the elevators sat open. A dark figure sat in the shadows. She stared longer and shoes began to take shape. She swallowed, and peaked carefully both ways down the hall. Her eyes returned to the body. She looked as hard as her tired eyes would let her. She made the decision to run, and she did. She reached the door, pushed it as hard as she could and collapsed into a controlled heap on the other side. 

She held the door in its spot as she surveyed the new environment. She listened. Only the pounding in her ears. She listened closely, and thought she heard the faint sound of crying. No, no, no, she had imagined it. She had to believe she had imagined it.

“There was nothing I could do.” She stifled a sob, and returned to her feet. 

One set of stairs led to the roof, another to the floors below. She looked up the stairs and longed for a breath of fresh air. Her stomach gurgled an argument and the toothy baby wiggled in agreement. The decision was made and she turned towards the second floor. She decided  she would make it to the cafeteria, get as much food as she could, then return to the roof. Someone would see them, someone would help.

The idea of eating a four day old, a la carte pizza made her stomach rumble. She felt her eyes glaze over at the thought. She felt warm, and drunk with exhaustion. She slapped her face gently at first then harder as she approached the door to the first floor. 

With her left hand, she gripped the handle harder than she intended. With her right hand she adjusted the knots on the babies blankets, they were beginning to rub on her neck. A painful rash had begun to form. 

They were on the East side of the hospital, the cafeteria was straight ahead. Just passed the gift shop on the right and some administrative offices on the left. She peered through the small window. She saw a few upturned carts. An office was open on the left. Slick blood had soaked a stuffed bear and the wilted petals of well intended flowers. She shuddered at the bloody petals, remembering her patient's peeled flesh. The blood sat in three distinct streaks. Someone had moved the bodies. Or the bodies had moved. 

She stepped carefully into the hallway. She paused before taking her first step. She felt something pulling lightly at her left side and her heart plummeted deep into her chest. Her neck burned as she turned and pulled away from the assailant. She pulled the toothy baby into her arms and watched the bloody hand grip tightly to the blanket. The hand was attached to a mashed collection of meat and bones, intertwined with the bent metallic and plastic skeleton of a wheelchair. A monstrous face peeked out from somewhere near the center. 

It clicked its teeth together then exhaled an exasperated, “HeeEEEhheelp”  

She ripped at the knot on her right shoulder, and freed herself from their attacker. She ran forward, only losing her balance for a moment on the slick floors. She heard something crash in the giftshop, she lurched into the open door, and slammed it behind her. 

***

The pounding in her head mixed with the crashing in the hall. One of the creatures had fallen onto the ground and was not able to get up. It pawed at the floor and groaned. The babies were crying. It sounded like it was coming from everywhere. She realized she was crying too. She clutched the toothy baby tighter. 

She sat and collected herself. She tried to breathe deeply through sobs. She released the pacified toothy baby, placing it carefully on the floor in front of her. She reached for the tuft baby, it was still quietly crying. 

It wasn’t there. Her mind flipped back on, and she stopped sobbing. Was the crying coming from the hall? She clawed at her raw neck. The only blanket around her held baby formula. She stood up too fast, and had to pause to fight a brief moment of vertigo. It was rapidly replaced with panic. Quickly, she placed the toothy baby in the blanket with the formula, opened the door, and ran into the hallway.

She looked back towards the stairwell. One creature laid more or less motionless, tangled up in a gift shop clothing rack. It groaned an accepting groan as it slid one arm through the slick blood on the floor. Further, she saw the crumpled creature that had grabbed her.

It's face shone with fresh blood. 

She turned and ran towards the cafeteria. Her heart pounded through her temples. Each breath felt heavier than the last. She had to get far away from the horrible sight. Away from her failure. 

“There was nothing I could do.”

She couldn’t tell if she said it out loud. She didn’t want to say it, she didn’t want to think it. Her whole life all she had wanted to do was help people. She did help people!  Now people needed help more than ever, and she had failed. The universe had given her a cosmic mulligan, and she had failed again. Her best intentions were worn away, replaced with only the instinct to survive. 

She burst through the cafeteria doors. The stench of death was unbearable. Pale, dead eyes, and gooey, empty sockets followed the stale air and settled onto the unexpected pair. They snarled or groaned, and began to move clumsily towards the scent of the living. Once they started to move, muscle memory from a past life took over. They gained speed. 

The toothy baby cried louder. She joined in one indulgent sob and turned out of the cafeteria and ran down the hall, past the creatures. She could hear bodies slam against the doors, wet heavy footsteps slapped against bloody floors. She closed her eyes as they passed into the stairwell.

She ran as fast as she could up the stairs. Fear had numbed everything. She needed to protect this baby. She needed to survive. She got to the emergency exit on the roof and pushed it open. Fresh air hit her like cold water. 

She collapsed onto the ground and sucked in as much cool air as she could. She wept. She held the toothy baby close to her and reached her hand to touch its tiny head. It was cool to her hand.

She continued to breathe and some fear subsided. She was uncomfortably warm. Her sweat began to pour with renewed certainty. She had a fever. She felt the toothy baby's forehead again, and it stirred. It turned its head up towards her hand and bit down. 

Pain screamed up her arm as she pulled it away. A chunk of flesh had been ripped from her hand, next to her pinky finger. She gazed at the small dead eyes in disbelief. Small teeth shone a red, devilish smile. She began to laugh quietly to herself, slowly it formed into a sob. She unconsciously began to tear at the rash on her neck as she sank harder into the ground and gave up.

There was nothing she could do.