The Creeping Dead: A Zombie Novel Read online

  The coughing got worse. It turned into gurgling.

  “Is she all right, Ma?”

  “She always does that, especially when I’m eating. No decency.”

  Mario got up and walked over to the curtain. “Are you all right, ma’am?”

  More gurgling. Then silence.

  ***

  Renee pulled up a chair in her small office next to her desk, and she flipped on her computer. It looked like it belonged in a museum. “Have a seat.”

  Tara sat next to her. “So where will my office be?”

  “Consultants don’t get one. You’ll enter your notes at the nurses’ station.”

  “Oh, I see.”

  “You had an office before this?”

  “Yeah, and a pretty nice one, too.”

  “Well, let me put it to you this way, Doctor. If you don’t have an office, people won’t know where to find you.”

  “I see.”

  “You’ll appreciate it once you start.”

  “Ms. MacAteer.”

  “Amongst others. The assistant director of nursing is no bargain either.”

  The computer booted up and went to desktop. Renee clicked on the database program. It opened up on the screen.

  “First thing’s first. We’ll need to get you a screen name and password.” She dialed up the IT department and then an announcement rang over the loudspeaker.

  “Code blue, sixth floor. Code blue, sixth floor.”

  Renee looked at Tara. “Shit, we were just up there. Wait here, talk to the IT person about getting a screen name and password. When you’re done with that, we’ll work on getting you an ID to wear.”

  Renee jumped up and left her office, closing the door behind her.

  Tara sat there alone with the phone receiver to her ear as it rang on the other end.

  It picked up. “Jason.”

  “Hi, I’m Dr. Bigelow. Renee, the social work director, told me I need to get a screen name and password for the database.

  ***

  Renee entered the sixth floor and immediately ran to the nurses’ station. “Who is it?” she asked a nurses’ aide.

  “Henrietta Scott. Sophia’s son told us.”

  She walked to the room and peered into the open doorway. There were nurses standing over the body of Henrietta, bubbles forming around her mouth. Mario Russo stood to the side with his mother, who was now digging into the powdered zeppoli.

  “She’s expired,” said Ms. Chatterjee, the nurse manager for the floor. “Call—”

  Before she could finish, Henrietta Scott reached up and grabbed a nurse by her forearm. Everyone jumped, startled by the sudden movement.

  “She’s alive!”

  Henrietta Scott’s eyes had dark shadows around them. As she bared her teeth and growled, she began to pull the nurse’s forearm to her mouth. The nurse pulled it out of her grip, and Henrietta turned her head slowly.

  She looked right at Renee standing in the doorway, and her expression was…less than human.

  Henrietta began to thrash around in her bed as the nurses and aides tried their best to restrain her. A black, viscous liquid oozed from her mouth, dripping down her chin as she continued to make a low-pitched guttural sound.

  “I’m not getting any vitals,” said Chatterjee. “Get Yost in here! We need to take her vitals!”

  An aide ran into the hallway. Within minutes, Yost darted into the room. “Give me the sphygmomanometer! Hold her still!”

  Chatterjee wheeled the apparatus over to Yost, who took a cuff and quickly slipped it over Henrietta’s right hand. An aide quickly grabbed her wrist and forced it down to the bed, while a nurse held her shoulders—preventing her from biting the aide and Yost.

  Yost quickly slid the cuff up her arm and pressed a button on the apparatus. It began to rumble in tune with Henrietta’s growling as the cuff filled with air. Then, it slowly began to deflate, taking her pressure.

  “Give me some room, Chatterjee!”

  She backed away from him and helped hold Henrietta down. Yost looked at the reading. “Pulse is on the high end of normal. Cancel the code blue. Get the psychiatrist on the phone and get a telephone order for Haldol, stat. She’s okay, but she’s agitated. We’ll need to mover her to the dementia ward, room six thirty-seven.”

  Renee looked at Mario and his mother. “Mr. Russo, you and your mother should go downstairs to the lounge for a bit. Have a cup of coffee till this gets straightened out.”

  Mario gawked at Henrietta, horrified.

  “Mr. Russo…”

  He looked startled. “Yeah. Yeah, Ma, let’s go downstairs.”

  “I don’t want to go downstairs. There’s a better show in here.”

  “Let’s go, Mrs. Russo,” coaxed Renee. “You don’t want your son to see all this.”

  “He should see it, so he knows what kind of place he stuck me in.”

  Mario’s face was white. He looked like he wanted to get out of there very badly.

  “You can bring your zeppoli,” added Renee.

  “Oh, all right,” said Mama Sophia stubbornly, “but I ain’t sharing these with anyone.”

  Renee nodded, and Mario wheeled his mother out of the room as Henrietta Scott watched them go with hungry eyes that would haunt Mario Russo for nights to come.

  ***

  MacAteer sat in her office with the door closed, soaking in the cool air conditioning, her phone to her ear.

  “So the code blue resolved…she’s in the dementia ward. Excellent. Debrief the staff, so they can go on with their day. Thank you, Yost.” She hung up the phone.

  She sat there deep in thought to the white noise of the air conditioning. She remembered the first time they had a code blue who…came back.

  Census was low, and the owner was giving her grief about filling beds.

  “I don’t care who you fill these beds with, just fill them,” said Mr. Levitz.

  “It’s not that easy to find appropriate residents,” said MacAteer.

  “Empty out the local psychiatric hospitals. There’re plenty of derelicts and misfits who need a place to stay.”

  “It’s not good for business. That’ll increase hospitalizations, and we’ll get a reputation for being a dumping ground. No one will want their relatives to come here.”

  “We won’t stay open unless we start filling beds,” Mr. Levitz insisted. “Your plush bonus depends on it, MacAteer.”

  These patients who were coding, expiring, and coming back started to appear right around then. MacAteer snickered at the word ‘expired.’ As if the residents were like milk that went bad. Ironically, when they ‘expired,’ they developed a stench like something rotten.

  They didn’t show any vitals, but they were awake and moved around. They became very aggressive and animalistic, but these were already demented residents.

  Their behavior just looked like severe dementia, and they began to blend in with the rest of the sixth floor. However, the staff was beginning to ask pointed questions. MacAteer recruited Alan Yost to help cover up for their complete lack of vitals, promising him a kickback for concealing this little fact from the other staff. He was an opportunist and he loved money, so the pitch wasn’t all that difficult.

  She created the locked dementia ward, placing Yost in charge, to isolate these special cases from the other residents and staff. He was solely in charge of taking vitals, feeding the residents, making sure they were cleaned (which didn’t take much because they never ate and therefore never voided their bowels or bladder), coming in at the appropriate hours to do so, taking time off in between. It was a round the clock job, but for the kind of money she was promising, he was up to it.

  To make it official and keep the other staff at bay, she promoted Yost to assistant director of nursing, allowing him the authority and hands-on ability to manage the unit and the undead residents. The director was an empty suit who never left her office. She relied on Yost’s reports, which was convenient.

  Neither MacAteer nor Y
ost had the slightest clue why their demented residents were falling prey to this strange condition. She half-attributed it to the developers breaking ground in the lot behind the facility to create an expanded unit with more space for the rehabilitation department, which had become big money, and short-term residents. Perhaps there was some environmental toxin that was released.

  Regardless, for the time being, the situation was perfect. It kept beds filled, because no matter what happened to these residents, it never warranted a hospitalization. They were dead. What was the worst that could happen? There was no dilemma of keeping bed-holds because they never left the facility, and the facility just kept charging Medicaid for the beds.

  There was the small matter of how to handle the staff assigned to the unit. Yost took care of the measuring of vitals (or lack thereof). The fact that the residents were animated…or reanimated…made them appear alive. The fact that they were aggressive kept staff at arm’s length.

  There was the matter of staff getting bitten or scratched, but thankfully the elderly reanimated were too slow and weak to ever find purchase with their attacks. Additionally, the staff on the unit was highly trained in universal precautions and infection control, always conscious of avoiding breaking the skin and contact with bodily fluids.

  It was initially unclear if the illness these residents contracted was transmittable. One fine day, the question was answered when a careless nurse’s aide, no doubt distracted, was scratched on her forearm.

  She immediately fell ill, exhibiting a high fever. She requested to go home, but Yost kept her in one of the physician’s examination rooms used for staff (the residents were treated on the units). She declined quickly under Yost’s supervision, and he administered an inoculation to the back of her neck, putting her reanimated body at rest.

  An autopsy later identified the mercury poisoning that was attributed to her living conditions. Fortuitously, her apartment was in proximity to a garbage dump where waste was frequently burned. The coroner attributed the death to inhalation of mercury fumes.

  There hadn’t been an incident since, Mr. Levitt was happy, MacAteer was receiving her fat bonus, Yost was receiving his kickback, and both she and Yost had become accomplices to a murder. If you could call dispatching an undead nurse’s aide murder.

  The way MacAteer figured, you couldn’t make an omelet without breaking some eggs.

  Chapter 8

  Vinnie strolled up the boardwalk, passing Dharma’s Sunglass Hut. As soon as she saw him, she waved him over. He casually crossed a line of pedestrians and was inside the hut.

  “So are we still on for tonight?” she asked, biting her lower lip.

  “You bet. What do you want to do?”

  “The town is showing Jaws on the beach.”

  “How romantic.”

  Dharma was incredulous. “Whaddaya mean? It’s a classic.”

  “Sure. I was only kidding. Nothing like watching an eating machine terrorizing a beach town to spur tourism.”

  “I think the irony’s delicious, almost as delicious as your pizza.”

  “You gonna drop by for lunch?”

  Dharma’s mother smiled as she lingered close by, pretending she wasn’t eavesdropping on their conversation.

  Dharma put her finger to her lips thoughtfully. Vinnie remembered how those lips felt on his. “I don’t know…now that I have you, I might be free to pursue other venues. Shit, I’ve been eating at your pizzeria every damn day this summer.”

  Vinnie smirked. “Like you’re really going to try something different. You’re just going to get a salad somewhere else.”

  She smirked back. “Yeah, I suppose you’re right. I guess I’ll drop by the same ol’ pizza joint and get the same ol’ salad.”

  “You really should try our pizza,” said Vinnie. “It’s the best on the boardwalk, and I say that objectively with no self-interest whatsoever.”

  Dharma narrowed her eyes. “Sarcasm looks good on you, Vinnie.”

  Vinnie looked at his watch. 10:20. “I gotta run. My dad’s opening up. See you tonight.”

  “Not if I see you first, Vincenzo.”

  As Vinnie left the store and continued his stroll up the boardwalk, Dharma’s mother bumped elbows with her. “You know, you really shouldn’t torture that nice boy so much.”

  “Oh, he can take it. In fact, I think he likes it.”

  “He’s a quiet one, Dharma. You don’t want to scare him off.”

  “That’s why we work so well together. I do all the talking. He likes a take charge kinda gal like me.”

  “So, Jaws, huh?”

  “Not you, too. It’s a friggen classic, Mom.”

  Her mother just shot her a look and went back to manning the register.

  Marie was walking up the boardwalk as well, but farther down. She walked up to Johnny Wong’s booth as he set up his broadcasting equipment.

  “Johnny, what’s the forecast? Is this heat going to let up?”

  “Not from the report I got. In fact, the town’s going to start doing rolling blackouts.”

  “Great. I’m sure the various food establishments are going to love that. They’re going to lose some inventory.”

  “Yeah, they’ll be pissed.”

  “All right. Catch you later, Johnny.”

  He nodded as he plugged cables into his equipment.

  She continued her stroll down the boardwalk, shaking her head at the tourists sizzling on the beach like strips of bacon, when she heard someone calling to her.

  “Well, well, well, I think the only thing hotter than that damn sun today is you, Marie.”

  She turned around, suppressing a smile. “Hey, Billy. Getting an early start on being sleazy today, I see.”

  He leaned on the half-open gate in front of his shop as he leered at her. She stood in the heat, dripping with sweat. “I’m just trying to get the worm.”

  “Oh, I believe you probably have worms already, Billy.”

  “Why don’t you come on in and have something cold to drink? I got beers and diet colas in the fridge.”

  “No thanks, Billy.”

  “You’re breakin’ my heart, Marie. C’mon. I just got new inventory in, and I’m sorting through it. Don’t you want to check out what the competition is hocking?”

  Marie looked like she was mulling it over in her head, from the slightly pained and thoughtful expression on her face. “Well, I don’t suppose a little espionage would be out of line.”

  Billy perked up and made a grand sweeping gesture with his right hand. “Step right into my parlor.”

  Marie ducked her head as she passed under the rusted security gate. The shade of the shop was an immediate relief from the blazing fireball in the sky.

  Billy slipped inside and passed her, brushing her with his left arm. He stunk like body odor and sweat, but Marie thought it was a manly smell.

  “What’ll ya have, my lady?”

  “I’ll take a diet cola.”

  He reached into his little fridge behind the counter and pulled out a can. He slid it across the countertop. Marie took it and popped the tab on the top. She guzzled the cold soda, and it felt like heaven sliding down her throat.

  She belched from the bubbles and quickly covered her mouth. “Excuse me.”

  “Shit, better out than in’s what I always say.”

  He pulled out a beer and popped the cap off on the edge of the counter to show off. He took a hearty slug and slammed the bottle down on the counter.

  “You’d better drink ’em all quick,” said Marie.

  “Why’s that?”

  “Because Johnny Wong said the town’s doing rolling blackouts today, so drink ’em if you got ’em.”

  “Well, I never turn down an excuse or an opportunity to refresh myself.”

  “No, I’m sure you don’t. So, what about all of this inventory you’ve been talking about?”

  He pointed his index finger into the air. “Ah, straight to business. I like that. I’ve got some new sh
it that came in. I think it’s going to be all the rage with the kids this year.”

  He walked over to a stack of large boxes in the back and pulled out a pocket knife, unfolding a rather large blade. Marie wondered what Chief Holbrook would think of his knife. Billy slid the blade across the packing tape, and then he folded his knife back up, slipping it in the rear pocket of his jeans.

  He tore open the top, pushing the cardboard flaps aside. He pulled out tee-shirts and tank tops advertising various brands of e-cigarettes.

  “This is going to be all the rage. I bought a small supply because summer’s almost over, and I want to test out how they’re going to sell.”

  “Billy, you can’t target teens with that stuff.”

  “Who say’s I’m targeting teens?”

  “You know they’re going to buy it.”

  “Hey, I’m just providing the product. I can’t stop them from buying it. Besides, it’s not like I’m selling them the e-cigarettes.”

  Marie shook her head, partly in disgust at the depths to which Billy would sink to sell his wares, and partly in disgust over the acknowledgement that he was right and the shirts would sell like hot cakes.

  “You’re some piece of work, Billy.”

  Billy laughed and sauntered over to Marie, grabbing her arm to pull her close. “And you’re some piece of ass.”

  “That’s not what I’m here for,” she said, pulling away.

  “Then what are you here for? To check out the competition? C’mon, Marie, you and I both know why you’re really here.”

  “I have to go now. Thanks for the soda.”

  Billy maintained his grip on her arm and looked her in the eye. Marie’s heart was practically in her throat.

  “Let me go, Billy.”

  He smiled, ogling her, and then he let her arm go.

  Marie took her soda and quickly ducked under Billy’s front gate. The brightness of the sun and the heat beat down on her, but it was a relief compared to the crucible she’d just left.

  ***

  After gazing at some bikini-clad girls on the beach, Frankie and Ted switched to skateboarding on the boardwalk, something Chief Holbrook frowned upon, in the hot morning sun. They were toward the end of the boardwalk and kept between storefronts by an exit ramp between a closed up pizzeria and Shoot the Star booth.