White Trash Zombie Unchained (White Trash Zombie 6)

She flipped a page on her legal pad and pretended to work. Annoyance wafted from her in an acrid wave.

Ha! I’d shut her up and gotten under her skin. Wasn’t much, but I’d take it. Allowing myself a mental fist pump, I settled back into the cushy comfort of the seat.

A few minutes later, we piled out in front of the Tucker Point High School gym—the same gym where my dad and I stayed after the flood swept our house away, and not far from the football field where the mass fight scene for High School Zombie Apocalypse!! had been shot.

A deputy and a Tucker Point cop chatted near the double doors. Kristi, Kyle, Fritz, and I showed ID, but it was Kristi’s name that earned us the Yes, ma’am, right this way, ma’am treatment. The deputy handed us surgical-type masks and waited for us to put them on before ushering us into the gym.

Déjà vu hit me as I took in the scene. Cots with people on them, like after the flood. But the similarities ended there. Then, the cots had been clustered in family groups, and refugees slept or commiserated or played cards. The smell of fresh coffee and hot pizza had filled the air, and soothing music had played over the PA. Now, the cots were numbered and lined up in orderly rows. Thirty-two of them. Four rows of eight. Around two thirds were occupied—far too many for my liking—and close to a dozen gloved and masked medical personnel tended equipment and the restrained patients. The heavy stench of blood, sweat, urine, shit, and disinfectant blanketed everything. Growls, moans, and wails were the only music.

About a third of the patients wore the plastic face shields Dr. Ingram had mentioned, designed to protect the people tending them from being bitten or spit at. Each occupied cot—and a few of the empty ones—had an IV stand and a mobile vitals monitor at the head.

A woman in black scrubs with sleek grey hair pulled back into a ponytail adjusted the IV flow for a patient in the nearest row. The doctor I’d seen on the news when the epidemic first went public. She made a final tweak, disposed of her gloves, and approached in brisk strides.

“You must be Dr. Charish,” she said. “Dr. Ingram told me you and your associates were on the way over. I’m Dr. Maureen Bauer. Epidemiologist.” Her tone was crisp and professional, with zero Dr. Ingram-style fawning.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you.” Kristi shook the other woman’s hand. “Perhaps you could get me up to speed on what you have here?” Her manner was equally no-nonsense, a far cry from her I’m-very-important attitude at the hospital. Was that a conscious thing for her to change her bearing depending on who she was talking to? Or did she have a natural ability to adjust to fit the circumstances? Either way, I couldn’t help but envy the knack.

Dr. Bauer swept her arm to encompass the gym. “We have two other doctors, four RNs, and four patient care assistants on duty now. More personnel and more equipment are expected to arrive by morning.”

I gestured to the pale yellow mitten-sleeve things she had on. Like flexible arm casts, they covered her forearms and hands, leaving thumb and fingers free. “What are those for?”

She flexed her fingers. “Kevlar fiber sleeves. Best protection against bites. We found that the majority of the patients can’t tolerate having their mouths covered. It sends them into recalcitrant status epilepticus, perhaps triggered by panic, and is relieved only by removal of the face shields.”

“Excellent observation and workaround,” Kristi said. “What can you tell me about LZ-1?”

“It’s fatal,” Dr. Bauer replied, expression grim. “We lost two yesterday and three this morning. Their deaths were all very sudden, as if their bodies simply gave out.”

“Fascinating,” Kristi said, then she and Dr. Bauer dove into an epidemiology discussion that sailed over my head by the second sentence. I gave up trying to comprehend it and headed for the first row of patients. Kyle remained within earshot of Kristi, much better able to absorb the conversation for Dr. Nikas. Hell, for all I knew, he was recording it.

Though Dr. Nikas couldn’t come here to assess the victims, I could make my own observations and report back to him. Every medical worker was deeply engaged in patient care, and I did my best to stay out of their way as I walked slowly past the cots. Some patients were bound with standard medical restraints, but the rest with straps fashioned from duct tape. Great minds think alike.

There were several familiar faces among the patients without bite shields. Nurse Patricia’s dead-white eyes tracked me. A barista from Dear John’s snapped and howled as I passed. The Rucker twins lay on adjacent cots, moaning and writhing. A subtle flutter rose in my gut. I stopped and reached toward the foot of the nearest twin.

“Hey!” a man’s voice called out.

I jerked my hand back.

“Glove-up before touching.” The voice belonged to a portly assistant the next row over.

I bit my lip. “Sorry!”

He shook his head at my stupidity and resumed adjusting the restraints on his patient.

The click of Kristi’s heels warned me of her approach. “Ooooo. Twins can be quite useful in research.”

A sliver of unease crawled down my spine at the creepy elation in her tone. “I’m sure they’re thrilled to be here.”

She ignored my comment. “Dr. Bauer is on board with trying to nourish these poor souls with the ProSwoleGel. I’m going to take a quick peek at all of them, then you can administer it. For now, run along.” She waggled her fingers in a shooing gesture then turned her back on me and strode toward the first cot.

“For now, run along,” I mimicked, complete with an exaggerated derpy expression. Cuz I was mature like that.

Fritz joined Kristi as she peered at the first victim, ready to guard her precious body if the shambler got rowdy. In the next row, Kyle crouched beside cot twelve, attentive to everything around him.

A shambler behind me let out a piercing wail. I spun to see Dr. Bauer trying to check the pupils on an elderly woman. The patient wore a face shield, but it didn’t stop her from lunging and trying to bite.

“Need a hand?” I asked. “Looks like everyone else is busy.”

“I’d love a hand,” Dr. Bauer said. “If you could hold her head still for a moment.” Once I had the thrashing woman in my grasp, Dr. Bauer did the light shine thing with each eye, then gestured for me to release my hold. “Thanks for the help. You would think eleven staff for twenty-one patients would be adequate, but we’re at the bare minimum for safety and maintenance. God forbid we fill the empty cots.”