Family Page 3

  Kate didn’t say anything more.

  Good girl, Christie thought.

  But then Simon asked a question which—since she had come to—Christie hadn’t thought about.

  “Mom, what are we going to do?”

  Christie let the simple question hang for a few moments.

  It was a question that made Christie look away, back to the blinds slicing the sunlight into perfect strips that hit the linoleum floor.

  “Right now, I don’t know, Simon. I mean, I just woke up. Don’t really know how my leg is. Don’t know what’s going on here, or the towns nearby or…”

  What’s happening in the whole goddamned country.

  Does anybody?

  “So let’s take it a day at a time. The doctor is coming in soon. I’ll find out as much as I can.”

  But Simon didn’t let it go.

  “I don’t think we can just stay here, Mom. Staying places isn’t a good idea.”

  Christie nodded. She knew what he meant.

  If you stayed places, bad things happened.

  “Simon,” she said, “I know.”

  He had to be worried about this place, any place these days. And with their mother laid up in bed, the kids must be more scared, more alone, than they ever have been.

  Then—an idea.

  “I tell you this. Just for you two. No need for anyone else to know. I’ll find out how I’m doing. I’ll learn as much as I can about this hospital. This town, you know what I mean?”

  Her two children nodded.

  “And then, just the three of us—together—we’ll plan. Together we’ll decide what to do.”

  The absurdity of it—letting kids be part of what could be such a large decision—seeming not absurd at all.

  Not when those kids have done what they’ve done.

  They’ve had to grow up fast, like survivors trapped in any terror, any tragedy.

  Grow up so fast—and they have.

  Whatever was decided, they’d decide together.

  “That sound like a plan? My promise.”

  “Yes,” Simon said. He looked at his sister. “As long as we decide together.”

  Christie took a deep breath, a moment passed, knowing she meant what she said.

  “But first, I’ll need to—”

  A knock on the door, then the doctor walked in, still looking as rumpled as he had the night before.

  “Hi.”

  Though clearly fatigued, he too smiled at her kids. “Can we talk a bit?”

  He looked at the kids. Then added, “Need to talk to your mom about her wound, okay? Take a look at it. Maybe you can wait back in your room?”

  Kate answered for the two of them.

  “Yes. Mom, we’ll come back later. Stay with you.”

  “I’d like that.”

  And Kate and Simon walked out as the doctor walked over to the bed, his eyes hooded, bloodshot, the fatigue palpable.

  “Let’s start by taking a look at the wound, hmm?”

  And the doctor slowly pulled back the bed sheets.

  CHAPTER 5

  What’s Going on Here?

  For a long time, the doctor didn’t say anything, even when—gloves on—he peeled back the bandage. Only when Karen came in did he say, “Can we get another trauma bandage ready? Thanks.”

  And the nurse bustled out as fast as she entered.

  Until finally Christie had to say, “So?”

  The doctor looked up from the wound on her right thigh to Christie’s face, and smiled. “Looks good. With all your blood loss, seemed bad, worse than it really was. Stitches look clean, and the bandage is doing its job. I’m happy.”

  Karen came in with another bandage pack, a puffy plastic bag with the self-contained bandage, probably loaded with antibiotics and—she hoped—a local aesthetic.

  “Much pain during the night?” Dr. Martin asked.

  “No. I mean, if I move it, feel the pull.”

  “Yeah. You will have that for a few days. Should be a little better each day.”

  He ripped open the bandage pack, and then carefully placed the pad on the wound, just above where the stitches ended.

  “I need to clean up the suture with hydrogen peroxide… that will sting. But as I said, I’m happy. Mending well already.”

  Christie watched as he took a swab, dipped it into a vial and applied the peroxide right to the stitches, and the skin around the wound.

  A slight sting. Nothing she couldn’t handle.

  The doctor tended to the wound quietly.

  Still—Christie knew that this morning she had questions that weren’t just about her wound.

  There were a lot of things she needed to know about.

  And this was the time.

  *

  She waited until the doctor had snapped off his gloves and tossed them in a nearby bin.

  “Doctor, what is this place?”

  He turned to her, smiled. “What do you mean? It’s a hospital. Rather obvious, I thought.”

  She nodded.

  Not at all what she meant.

  “No. Sure—it’s a hospital. But you have people here, staying up at night with guns, guarding. People—I guess—living here.”

  He didn’t say anything.

  “But I’ve been out there; I know what’s happened… what’s happening. How can you keep this place running? What are you going to do with all the people? Feed them? Care for them?”

  She wondered if he knew that she was asking the question not out of any idle interest, but because she was here, her kids were here.

  She had to know.

  The doctor looked at the open door of the room and then, without a word, walked over and shut it.

  Then he grabbed a straight-backed chair and pulled it close to the bed, sat down.

  “Okay. Right. When things got bad out there, the past few months, worse than before…” He took a breath. “When nobody knew where the hell the troopers were, when the attacks kept coming… so many people ended up here. We were swamped.”

  Another breath.

  “We are swamped.”

  “I’m sure.”

  “The fence—that had been taken care of years ago, along with our generator. Though fuel remains a problem. Always scavenging for that. And food, supplies. No choice really. For the people here, there was nowhere to go back to. Homes gone, neighbors dead—the ones that hadn’t changed, that is. This became a safe place.”

  A safe place.

  She had heard that term before.

  “You took people in, even after you took care of their wounds?”

  “Yes. Had to. I mean, what else could we do?”

  Christie nodded.

  “And the other doctors?”

  At that, Dr. Martin shook his head, looking so weary.

  “Oh, you mean the medical staff here? I’m afraid you’re looking at it.”

  “Just you?”

  A nod. “We had others. Many left to get to their families. Some said they’d be back but never came back. We have two nurses. Karen, and another young woman, Emma, who really is more of an EMT. She stays with the kids mostly.”

  Then she asked the difficult question.

  “What’s the plan?”

  That stopped the doctor. “Plan? I guess, hang on here, take care of people. People go out for supplies, though with winter coming that won’t be easy. Stay alive. What’s the phrase? One day at a time.”

  Christie thought of their family home on Staten Island, inside the safe, secure development girded by a massive electric fence.

  Safe. Then, completely overrun, taken over by hordes of Can Heads.

  And the Mountain Inn. What did they call it? A redoubt. A mountain fortress, and yet it still was besieged by Can Heads.

  That is… until it was attacked by something new.

  By people who seemed perfectly normal.

  By people that were more terrifying than the cannibalistic monsters that roamed the surrounding woods.

  Di
d the doctor know of such things?

  “Doctor, when we—my kids, myself—left that mountain inn, I had seen something. Haven’t even talked to my kids about.”

  “Go on.”

  “People. Looking just like you and me. Who went out… they went out…”

  She started to shake, the memory of what she witnessed suddenly hitting her so hard.

  “…captured others.”

  “For what reason?”

  He didn’t know? He couldn’t goddamn guess?

  Christie had to tell the doctor that things were actually worse than he imagined.

  She struggled to control her emotions; she slowed down her speech.

  “They collected children. They herded them, Doctor. Ready to take them with them, wherever they went.”

  Did he understand? Did she have to spell it out for him?

  Because if she did, Christie felt as if she would lose it.

  But then the doctor said, “God. How can that be?”

  “Because it is. I don’t know. Maybe it’s part of this whole plague; maybe it’s something new. Or maybe it’s just about survival.”

  Then her point.

  The one that made her stomach tighten, especially now with her confined to bed.

  “Your people here. Could it happen to any of them? Could any of them, all those people with their big guns, could they get that idea? In the interest of surviving.”

  The doctor shook his head, clearly rattled.

  But Christie could see in his eyes that he could well imagine the terror she was talking about.

  Maybe had even seen some signs of it already.

  But then he said, “I think we’re okay… the people here, with their kids. Good people…”

  “We were all ‘good people’ once.”

  Finally the doctor turned away. “I… I’ve got other patients. The only doctor, right? ‘Rounds,’ they used to call them.”

  He stood up and pushed the chair against the wall.

  “Maybe we can talk some more. Let’s see how the healing goes, hmm?”

  Christie nodded.

  “I’ll check in later. You should sleep, rest as much as you can.”

  But in a painful move, Christie leaned up, using one arm. She had to make a point. She had to ask one more thing.

  “I will. But can you check on my kids? During the day. Make sure they’re okay.” A deep breath, hoping that the man knew what she was asking.

  To keep his eyes open. For anything. Because Christie couldn’t.

  “Can you do that?”

  The doctor nodded. “I will. And Karen, she’s tireless. My right arm. I will ask her as well. We’ll keep eyes on them, talk to them.”

  Christie lowered herself back down to the pillow, grateful for the promise.

  “And you just work on getting better, okay?”

  Christie smiled at that.

  She closed her eyes as he left the room, and in seconds she was dead asleep again.

  CHAPTER 6

  Days and Nights

  “Simon! What are you doing?”

  Kate had frozen as Simon turned a corner to a far hallway that led to the back of the hospital building.

  One of the men had been very clear: “You don’t go past that point. Ever.”

  Then, as if threatening, he had looked right at Kate. “You got that?”

  She had nodded.

  But after two days here, wandering on the only floor they were allowed on, only part of the first floor of the hospital, wandering back and forth, down the few corridors here that were permitted, she could see Simon wanting to…

  What?

  Explore?

  Her brother turned. Since the events from nights before, he had been good about listening to her. Once—and it nearly made her cry, so stupid—he even said to her, “Kate. What you did. Saving me and all? Thanks.”

  She was quick to say it was nothing. “Just stopped those creepy men, Simon. That’s all.”

  And he had added without thinking: “And I’d do the same for you.”

  That was chilling. Knowing that he meant that. And more—that after all that had happened—was there anyone better to have her back than Simon?

  Now that her Mom was laid up.

  Simon had stopped, just at the turn in the hallway.

  “Now you see me…” he said, grinning.

  Then he slid a few feet to his right, and vanished.

  Kate stood there, suspended. She didn’t want to chase after him, go where the men said not to go.

  Though who knows why they said that.

  Why can’t we walk around the whole building? At least in daylight? All locked up, the gates working.

  Why is that so bad?

  “Simon!” she said, even louder, and quickly spun around to see if anyone heard. But all she saw was an old man in a walker, slowly trudging in her direction, his head down.

  If Simon didn’t come back, she’d have to go get him.

  And if the men found them, what would they do?

  Yell at them? Lock them up?

  Mom doesn’t need anything else to worry about.

  She decided she had no choice. If Simon was going to be stupid, back to being a stupid boy who did what he wanted to, then she’d have to go get him—and fast.

  She hurried down the hallway, glancing every few steps over her shoulder to see if anyone was watching, until… she reached the turn, took the turn, and saw that…

  Simon hadn’t gone far at all.

  *

  He stood only feet away, looking straight down the other hallway. To the right, Kate saw doors to what appeared to be a stairway. A heavy chain with locks surrounded the two doors’ handles.

  And next to the doors, an elevator, door open, and a heavy chair sitting across the entrance as if letting anyone know, Don’t go into this elevator.

  Don’t move the chair.

  Something felt so bad about seeing those two things.

  But worse, when she turned and saw what Simon was looking at, what had stopped him cold.

  Halfway down the next hallway, she saw… what? A jumble of chairs, and dozens of metal poles, piled seven, eight feet high, right to the ceiling.

  Like a crazy arts and crafts project.

  It’s a barrier, she thought. A wall.

  And why would they have a wall in here?

  The hospital was safe. The fence, all those guns.

  Simon must have sensed he wasn’t alone, and when he turned back to her, he wasn’t grinning.

  No. Kate knew that after what they had seen, they could look at such a thing—and guess what it meant.

  It didn’t need to be said.

  And she hoped that Simon wouldn’t say it. Because it would make it all too real.

  The message of that wall…

  They have gotten in here. There have been battles in here.

  And the people with their guns, even some girls not much older than her, must know that message.

  The message:

  We’re not safe here.

  Simon walked back. She almost wished he was still grinning at his rule breaking. Instead, that grin was all gone.

  And it was Simon who said, so quietly, “We better walk back.”

  Kate turned, and with no more words, followed her brother back to the other corridors, to the ER, to all the people.

  Guns ready. Waiting.

  Waiting.

  *

  At lunch—a pasty mix of something green, something like potatoes, probably instant—they sat alone.

  No one had come over and talked to them.

  Newcomers to this place weren’t welcome.

  And these days, Kate knew why.

  More mouths. More need for food.

  She took a spoonful of the greenish mixture, heavily salted, and that just about made it edible.

  Simon wasn’t eager to eat and quickly put down his spoon. He leaned close to Kate.

  “Kate.”

  She knew this was comin
g. Simon would want to talk about what they saw.

  And this was as close to privacy as they could get. Even when they visited their mother, the nurse was constantly bustling in and out, ready to hear whatever they were talking about.

  She nodded at her brother. “Yeah.”

  “We can’t stay here.”

  Another nod.

  Then as if what he said wasn’t clear enough. “We have to get out of here. Everyone here”—a look around—“is just waiting for an attack.”

  He had raised his voice. Kate leaned close. “Quiet, will you? Just whisper.”

  And now Simon nodded, but Kate guessed she better say something. Because if she knew anything about her brother, when he had an idea he didn’t let it go.

  What was that word?

  Tenacious.

  “Okay. Maybe it’s not good here, and—”

  “Maybe?”

  “And okay—we shouldn’t stay here.”

  “That pile of junk,” Simon said. “Sooner or later, they’ll get back in.” He took a breath. “I don’t want to be here when that happens, Kate.”

  She looked at him. Just a kid, not even a teenager yet, but his words made him sound like… if he had to, he’d go off on his own.

  She even had to wonder: He wouldn’t really do that, would he?

  “I know,” she said. “But Mom needs to get better, I don’t know how many more days she needs. Tomorrow the doctor told her she can try to walk, get some strength back.”

  “How long will it take? Until she can leave? Until we can leave?”

  “I don’t know, Simon. I’m not a doctor. Look, we’re supposed to visit her after lunch. Maybe we can talk then. Plan.”

  Simon looked around.

  Then he turned back to his sister and finally she saw a bit of a smile bloom on his face.

  “You know, you weren’t too bad at driving. I mean, if that’s what has to happen. For us to leave.”

  She smiled back. “I wasn’t, was I? And you know what, it was kinda fun.”

  Simon kept smiling, their meeting over. This serious chat about such serious things.

  Like getting out before an attack.

  Would their mom want to hear about this, when she was still recovering?

  Doubtful. But no matter. They were together. And if it was time to talk, time to plan, then that’s what it was.

  She looked down at her plate of goop. She knew that she couldn’t dump it. Throwing away food, even when it was this disgusting, wouldn’t be welcome.