Visit to the ER: Sudden Noises

Posted on Wed Jul 24th, 2024 @ 4:02am by Hale Stratton & Ethan Thompson & Timothy Reynolds & Serena Reynolds M.D.

2,315 words; about a 12 minute read

Mission: Winter is Coming
Location: Maine General Medical Center, Augusta, Maine
Timeline: September 7, 2010 - 8:15 a.m.

[Emergency Room Ambulance Entrance]

We should probably do a sweep and make sure we haven't left any unfriendlies behind," Hale said. "Then we can bring this beast around front where, I'm sure, you're wife will be happy to see it."

Timothy nodded as he moved, scanning his half of the area, trusting that Hale was doing the same with his. Once they were satisfied that they were, in fact, alone in the bay, Tim moved to the ambulance that the goons had been loading. Seeing that there were still several items to be loaded he did so quickly, then closed the back, deciding that they could search the loot later, when they were all in the relative safety of the cabin.

[Parking Lot, Maine Medical Center]

Serena with Ethan, Vienna and the newcomers, moved down to the parking lot with their two vehicles. The crowd seemed to have dispersed. Serena made sure they kept to just outside the parking lot and she climbed from the Blazer. She could not see her husband or Hale and she was concerned. The sound of gunshots had made her move the group, because she wanted everyone to be safe and she knew that moving forward, while risky was probably safer than being at a distance.

"Ethan, Stay here with the group" She said as she held Tim's Beretta at her side. She approached the main door slowly.

Ethan nodded and found a space apart from the others where he could watch. Wasn't much else he could do at the moment.

The drive led into the hospital parking lot which was largely empty save for a few scattered vehicles. There was a scattering of trees along the drive, not enough for good cover, but enough that one of the moveable dead, dressed in the uniform of the landscaping company he had once worked for, chose that moment, as Serena approached, to come around the edge of the tree and reach out for her arm. He had been wearing a mask and the sprayer still hung from his back. It was the mask that had deadened the sound, made his approach quiet enough for him to get within grabbing distance.

Serena's eye caught the movement and she spun around and with a scream that seemed to be torn from the pits of hell, she raised her right arm and pulled the trigger on the baretta, sending bullets flying into the body of the walking corpse even as she tried to get away.

Hale's gaze jerked up at the sound of gunfire and he took off at a run, his SIG tucked into his belt at the small of his back and one of the thug's rifles in hand. He didn't try to speculate, he just ran and hoped that he would be there in time.

While Ethan, who was at the top of the drive, keeping watch, also heard the shots and took off down the drive, fearing the worst.

Serena turned and ran as the gun ran out of bullets and she had not brought the second mag. "TIM!" She screamed.

Timothy had already started moving with Hale when they heard the shots. He took the key also from the ambulance locked and slammed to doors. He was nearly five meters behind Hale, when he heard his wife screaming his name. Digging deep down into his Reserves, he accelerated to a full sprint, quickly overtaking Hale, as he moved towards where he saw the zombie shuffling after Serena. He was too far for a safe shot with the shotgun, so he poured on more speed. His heart was pounding dangerously fast in his chest.

Not wanting to risk slowing down to aim and shoot, Timothy lowered his shoulder and tackled the zombie from behind, the two of them going down in a tumble.

Serena heard the crash of bodies on the deck and spun around. "Tim!" she repeated even as Hale came around after him.

The gardener, seeking a meal the mask having been ripped away in the fall, turned his attention to the gift and curled forward, seeking to get a good hold of Tim's neck, his mouth already open, and the low keening sound that passed for speech among them filled the air.

Hale, who was on Tim's heels, circled around, pulling out his knife as he did so, and yanked the gardener's head back, inserting his knife into the soft spot on the side. The body, dead again, fell to the ground and Hale stepped back. Anger tightened his jaw but he stepped back, going quiet and still.

Looking up at Hale, Timothy nodded. "I know, I know! Just like in Afghanistan!" He stood up and moved over to check on his wife. "Are you hurt?"

"N-no I am fine. I think i spent all the shells though." Serena handed him the gun.

Nodding with relief, Timothy pulled Serena into his arms. He then looked back at Hale. "Remember, I saved your ass the same way. Though back then, it wasn't a light weight zombie." During one of their missions to Afghanistan, a very large Taliban enforcer, the guy had been seven foot tall, and almost as wide. He had gotten the rare surprise hit on Hale, and Timothy had tackled him to the ground too. However, after that encounter, he had dislocated his shoulder and fractured his right collar bone.

"And this time you nearly got bit," Hale ground out, "something you don't recover from as easily as a broken bone or two." He shook his head lightly. "The rules of engagement are different here. You have to use your head. And you," he turned to Serena. "What exactly were you doing down this way? We hadn't given the all-clear yet."

Serena took a breath "I know. But there is still someone inside. With a weapon... they threatened people..I was coming to tell you."

"We were going to clear the building and then we heard shots," Hale said. "Your shots. You can't do this again, Serena. Not without the training you need to take of yourself in a fight."

"When we get back to the cabin, I'll start checking on how much training everyone has with both self-defense and any form of weapons." As Tim spoke, he held Serena against him protectively.

Serena however nodded taking the rebuke from Hale. She accepted it.

"Let's wait until we get to Wisconsin," Hale said. "We'll plan a straight-through drive, only stopping for essentials. Gas. Water. That sort of thing. We need to start building and I don't want to delay any more than we have to -- winter's coming. Once we're there, we'll start regular training sessions for everyone -- self-defense, handling knives, and all of that. For now, get everyone back into the vehicles." He eyed the way Tim was clinging to his wife and added, "I'll go handle that last guy and bring the ambulance around."

Timothy shook his head as he replied. "Not alone you won't." He kissed his wife's forehead, then whispered a few quiet, comforting words to her, before he released her and turned his attention back to Hale. "When the world was turning, we never moved without a battle buddy. Now, more than ever, that rule still stands. No one ever moves alone. We always move in pairs, at the minimum." He took his pistol from Serena, and changed out the clip, handing it back to her. He then reached down and picked up the shotgun and said to his friend, "Let's go."

Hale nodded, his gaze straying over to Serena for a moment. "Head on back to the vehicles. We'll finish up here and meet you out there shortly." He turned back to Tim and said, "Let's go."

They made their way around to the back entrance, as before, but this time, crept into the Emergency Room. The sound of something metallic hitting the wall rang out from somewhere ahead of them and Hale drew his pistol.

Timothy brought up the shotgun as well. Then, as he had the more powerful weapon, he took point, keeping Hale behind him.

He was angry. Angry at his girl friend for leaving him. Angry at a world that didn't make sense. Angry at having to pull guard duty when he was too tired. Angry that one dumb mistake had cost him his life. Angry that he'd become one of those ... just angry. He tossed another bed pan at the wall and picked up his pistol. He didn't know anything about weapons other than point and shoot; he'd always been one for using his fists. But he picked it up and held it in front of him. Staring at it. Thinking.

Timothy froze when he heard the loud crashing sound. In the quiet of the hospital, it was deafening in its own right. After a few beats, he started forward again. When he and Hale reached the inner doors leasing to the E.R., he carefully peeked through the window, and saw a man, clearly injured, sitting on the floor, against the wall to his and Hale's right. Over to the left, there were a few old, metallic bed pans, laying around. Clearly, they had been the source of the noise.

Backing away from the door carefully, he turned to Hale and signaled what he saw. "One man, injured, armed with pistol."

Hale squatted there for a moment, considering. The windows weren't large enough for him to crawl not if the double doors leading in were blocked in some way but the man had the key to the front door and could easily follow them that way. So, they couldn't leave and be sure that he wouldn't follow. So, confront then.

He couldn't. He wanted to, to save himself what was to come, but he couldn't. Just wasn't wired that way. So, he set the pistol down on the floor, and grunting a bit with the effort, leaned forward to throw another bedpan.

When Hale saw the gun go down and the man move out of its easy reach, he signaled to Tim, 'cover me', and moved forward as the bedpan crashed against the opposite wall. He was within range before the man had a chance to settle back into place.

"Well, if that don't beat all," the man said as he settled back into his spot against the wall, one hand lying on the floor near the pistol but not touching it. "Here I was, looking for a way out and there you are."

"Your friends are dead," Hale said, "and I'm of two minds what to do with you."

Moving slowly, the man lifted his shirt to display and festering bite on his side. "Let me make it easy for you then. Shoot me. I can feel it , you know, taking hold and I don't want to be one of them things ..."

Timothy looked down at the man, compassion in his eyes. He had seen far to many friends die on the battle field to not feel for the man. He handed Hale the shotgun, then moved over and picked up the pistol. After checking it over, looked the man in eyes. "I'm sorry that your end came like this, Sir." He paused a couple beats, then asked, "While I can't promise anything, is there anyone that might still be out there, that you would want to know about your fate?'

"My girl," the man said, his voice raspy with pain, "died the first week. Wasn't much worth hanging onto after that." He looked up at Tim and closed his eyes. "Be careful who you run with ..." And then he nodded and waited for the end.

Timothy nodded sadly as he listened. With the pistol in his right hand, he placed his left hand on the man's right shoulder. In a kind voice, he asked, "What's your name, Sir? No one should die without someone knowing who they are. My name is Captain Timothy Reynolds, formerly US Army Ranger Sniper."

"Jason," the man said. "Jason Allen DeVries. Worked in factory, packaging bacon, before all this. My girl was Hannah. Pretty little thing she was. Barely five feet tall and enough attitude to fill a man twice her size." His eyes drifted shut again and he smiled, broken somewhat by the pain, on an in drawn breath. "Used to tell her she was my world." He snorted lightly. "She never believed me but ... it was the plain truth. Wasn't much worth hanging onto after that."

Timothy nodded as he listened. "It's my honor to have met you, Jason. I give you my word that both you and Hannah will be remembered." He paused for a beat, then said, "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Jason whispered. "I want to die as I am. Not as one of ... those things ..."

Hale stood quietly off to the side and hoped that Jason would find peace in whatever came next.

Timothy nodded again. "Close your eyes, picture Hannah as she was before all of this happened." When Jason did so, Timothy lifted the pistol, aimed the barrel at the center of the man's forehead, then paused a beat, before squeezing the trigger.

The sound of the gunshot was deafening in the hall, but, the deed was done. The man once known as Jason Allen DeVries, was gone. The back of his head blown open and his brains splattered on the wall behind him. There would be no coming back as one of the undead for him.

As Timothy's ears rang, he let go of Jason's shoulder and stood, slipping the pistol into the waistband of his pants, at the small of his back. "Rest in Peace, Jason." He then turned to Hale and nodded. "We should get back to the group."

"Hale nodded and passed Tim back his shotgun. "We'll take the ambulance."

 

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