May 18, 2019 - 2:05 AM

Alaska Bell

The truck door creaked open. My first step out was a stumble. My baby was totalled. Her beautiful face crumpled against a damn concrete pole. And I only had another twenty-thousand left before she was paid off.

Inside, Davis was unconscious, slouched against his seat belt while the crazy asshole in the back—the one who caused me to crash—was still awake, flailing in the backseat next to the other passenger I picked up at O’Brian’s.

He was super fucked up. Like bad. And I didn’t mean just trashed on alcohol because I’ve seen my share of drunks. PCP maybe? I didn’t know. Whatever he was on, it seemed to dull him from any kind of pain. Something I was pretty jealous of because my body felt like I rolled down flights of stairs made of fists.

I jumped back in the truck and with one hand I unlatched Davis’ seatbelt while I grabbed his shoulder with the other, pulling him over the center console since his door was crushed. As I started to pull him over the center console, I realized just how stupid this was since you weren’t supposed to move people in a car crash, but I continued because honestly, the fog was still lifting from my probably concussed brain and the crazy asshole in the back was insufferable.

He growled and snapped and goddamn, why were unconscious people so heavy? By the time I got Davis halfway out of the truck, a familiar voice called out to me. “What the hell happened?” I glanced over and saw Deputy Boyde jogging over from the clinic. “Bell? What the hell’s going on?” His hair was more dishevelled than usual. Must’ve been a rough night all over. “Holy shit, are you okay?”

I must’ve looked like a hot mess. I think I ditched my heels a while back, and my hair was like bad eighties hair-metal chic. Overall, my outfit was a little too fashion conscious given the circumstances, but I wasn’t expecting to be back on duty so soon. “Oh you know, fucking peachy. Grab him, will ya?”

With a fair amount of struggle, Boyde and I managed to get Davis into the clinic and onto a gurney, thank God. The moment we laid him down, the nurse started to bombard me with a barrage of questions. I pretty much blindly bubbled in the answers, more or less forgetting them only seconds after. Before I even realized it, I was sitting in one of the waiting room chairs. Boyde, still in full uniform, stood over me wearily. “You okay?”

The question was pretty dumb, even for Boyde, considering I stumbled out of a collision on the worst night of my life.

“Just smelling the roses. Why do you ask?” I didn't even bother to look up.

“You look like you had a rough night.”

I scoffed. “You didn’t hear about what happened at O'Brian's?”

“Sure. A bar fight or something, right? Donno and I were on a call already so we couldn't roll backup.”

“Whatever you think happened at O'Brian's, it was way worse. Speaking of which, can you go back to the car and check on the two I've got in the back? Pair of 'em were at O'Brian's with me. One’s out cold, the other is acting like he's out of his goddamned mind.”

“Another one?” Boyde nervously ran his fingers through his hair. He practically caught the attention of the half dozen or so people in the waiting room. Looks like it was a busy night for everyone in Sheridan. I felt bad for the desk nurse who already looked like he was drowning.

“The one on the right is real bitey.”

Boyde pondered his next words, chewing on them carefully before continuing.“Do I gotta take him in?”

“He's the reason my truck is totalled.”

“I don’t know, I—”

“You know what? Just do whatever you want, kid. Cuff him. Leave him. Beat him until you end up on the 9 o’clock news. I don’t care. I'm not on duty, and I'm in a fuck-load of pain right now.”

Boyde looked at me, the door, then back at me again. He must have seen something while on the call because he almost looked afraid. Still, the kid was by the book, always waiting for someone to tell him what to do because making decisions didn’t jive well with him. He did want to go into the military, after all.

After another second of indecision, he jogged out the door of the clinic.

I finished tapping out my thousandth text to Eury since she ran off from the bar.

Your phone is off but when you get these you need to call me. I think something seriously fucked up is happening.

Looking around the waiting room, I couldn’t help but feel like that was an understatement. In the fifteen minutes since I brought in Davis, another ten people had shown up, all with similar or worse injuries than the pair that I had in my truck.

Boyde had called in some backup for Bitey and now, his knee jittered annoyingly while he watched the couple dozen people in the waiting room. I couldn’t blame him. It was obvious something was going on, something that wasn’t just a few junkies, or rowdy bar-goers and it scared him. And, to be honest, it scared me too. But there was no way I could let the rookie see that.

The walkie-talkie on Boyde’s shoulder crackled to life when Deputy Donovan’s voice came out as clear as mud.

“Hey, I’m outside. Come out and—” Boyde jumped out of his chair and was halfway to the door before he spoke.

“Yeah, I’m on my way,” Boyde said into the mic. Then, just before leaving, he turned his attention to me “I’ve got to go help Donno, you good here?” I nodded, he was concerned enough already. “Alright, I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.”

As he jogged out of the clinic, a tall black man walked in past him.

The desk nurse looked up from his paperwork. The expression plastered on his face was pretty much the mood of the night—exhausted and stressed, but the moment he saw the man, most of it washed away. The tall guy couldn’t have been much older than me, but there was something unshakeable about him. A stoic strength that plopped down some much-needed bedrock in this bloody mess. He didn’t break stride as he gently pushed through the line-up. The moment he crossed behind the desk, threw his jacket into a corner, the nurse turned away from his work like a kid who was in over his head.

“Bernard! Oh, thank god.” Even though I was a few feet away, the relief in the nurse’s voice really carried.

Bernard pulled the nurse over to the corner of the long desk nearest to me. “What the hell is going on?” He asked quietly.

“It’s…” The nurse began but immediately trailed off, “I think it’s dogs or something? Lots of bite marks, cuts and such. Looks like people have rabies or something? Maybe—”

“Actually,” I interjected quietly. Bernard snapped his attention over to me, not blinking as I made my way over to them. “This ain’t dogs. It’s people.”

“People?” Bernard repeated.

“Yeah, a couple of folks were saying that they were attacked or something. I was thinking maybe there’s like a rabies outbreak or something?” The nurse said, offering up his explanation.

Bernard shook his head. “That’s idiotic.”

The nurse, looking a little defeated, just nodded slowly.

“I think rabies takes awhile to start. Least it did when my parent’s dog came down with it.” I said to the nurse.

“If you don’t have anything else to offer, I’d like to get back to this,” Bernard said with the same unflinching glare before turning to the paperwork on the desk.

I guess his medical school didn’t teach him bedside manners because holy hell, his haughty attitude pissed me off, but I knew better than to start a spat here. That could wait until tomorrow when all this shit was over. I started towards the chairs but stopped.

“They were puking, like, a lot,” I added.

“Puking?” To my surprise, his stoic expression broke into a smile. “Okay, that’s good. That’s really good. Chuck, go to the pharmacy’s backroom and grab the box that’s on the table in the back.” The nurse ran off while Bernard prodded with more questions. “What colour was the vomit?”

“Color?” Ew. “I don’t know, I can’t say that I stuck around to get a good look.”

“Okay, what else can you tell me then? Did you recognize them? Were they—”

Interrupting him, Chuck returned empty-handed. “Hey Doc, I can’t find the box you’re—”

Now his turn to be interrupted, a horrified scream from the waiting room cut him off. I jumped at the sound. And as the room full of sick and injured started to scatter, I saw the cause of all the panic. Standing in the doorway was Boyde—his face, uniform, and shotgun covered in blood. His expression was blank, like the room full of screaming people weren’t even there.

“Boyde! What the fuck!” I sprinted over to try and obscure him from everyone else. “What the hell happened to you?” I looked into his eyes as I spoke, but they were empty too. I glanced around the waiting room and saw everyone had put something between themselves and us. “Hey everyone! It’s all good. We’re with the Sheriff!” No effect. Great. I turned back to Boyde. “Give me that!” I said, grabbing at the shotgun. The moment I touched the weapon, Boyde jumped to life, pulling it and himself back out the door.

“No!”

It was like I flipped a switch and Boyde’s demeanour went from mannequin to manic, like a wild animal trapped on all sides.

“What happened?” I tried to close the distance, but for every step I took, he took three back, until he bumped up against a car.

That wasn’t there before. In fact, neither were the rest of the cars that littered the intersection in front of the clinic.

What the hell?

To my right, the clinic’s small parking lot was totally filled. In it, with lights still flashing, was the squad car. It never left Boyde’s sight, even as I grabbed the shotgun from his hands.

Call it caution, training, or whatever else, but while I crept towards that car, hands slick with sweat around the grip and pump, I called it fear. The pure, uncut kind that made every step slow and deliberate. It dragged out the seconds I spent approaching the popped open trunk, then the back door. I raised the shotgun as I stepped around the car, giving me a full view of the carnage inside. Deputy Donovan—Donno—was closer to the door. The only solace I had was that he faced away from me. The perp’s bloodshot eyes were still open, and blood still slowly leaked out of the hole blasted into his chest.

Oh God, did the perp do that to Donno? What the hell was I going to tell Mary-ann?

After a few moments, the shock subsided, if only just a bit. Enough for me to pull away from the car. Still, I felt my expression harden. I needed to know what the hell was going on.

Boyde watched me as I returned from the squad car. He was wearing an expression I was familiar with. It was easy to tell when it was someone's first time seeing the truly horrible shit people can do to each other. I remember seeing that a lot back in Afghanistan. Hell, I remember the first time I pulled that face.

But now was not the time to think, right now, it was time to act. “What the fuck happened?”

Boyde raked his hair, trying to find the words. “I… I don’t…” He trailed off. My image of Boyde had little depth to it. He was nothing more than what it said on the tin—Dumb-jock, canned in water—not a damn thing more. But seeing him like this, speechless and deflated, I didn’t like it. After a moment, he managed to string some words together. “He just… All over him. He was all over him, and when I got there… I just couldn’t let him keep… eating him.”

Eating him? Oh God, what the—

My thoughts were interrupted by screaming again.

“We gotta go,” I said to Boyde, but he was stone still. “If you ain’t coming, call this shit in. Get Keefe down here ASAP.” Again, no response from Boyde.

I left him outside while I went back inside the clinic. A few steps from the door, Bernard was on his knees beside an unconscious man on his back, bleeding from long gashes down his face. Bernard waved me over.

“Hey. You’re a cop, right?”

“Yeah, a deputy,” I said, letting the shotgun hang on its sling at my side.

“Okay, good. Get on that side.”

I rushed to the unconscious man. I quickly went down the checklist from my first aid training, trying to remember anything I could. Then, I realized, I didn’t even know what the hell was even wrong with this guy. My specialty was in bullet wounds, falls, cuts and scratches, but this guy just looked sick as hell. Like most of the other people in the clinic.

Just as I realized my uselessness, Chuck returned with a gurney.

“If Chuck’s still here, what do you need me for?” I asked Bernard as the three of us lifted the man onto the bed and they started towards the closer of the two hallways that led deeper into the clinic.

“Just in case this guy wakes up and feels like fighting again.” Bernard began removing the man’s shirt while Chuck pushed the bed into the back hallway. And I just followed along third-wheeling on their little date.

“Fighting?” I looked at the unconscious man. He looked more like my grandpa than a brawler that got impatient while waiting in line. “Did you knock him out?” I said to Bernard. It wasn’t completely out of the question. He was weirdly muscular—in a lean, tall guy kind of way—but at the same time, he seemed too nerdy to knock someone out.

Bernard was too focused on his work to bother answering my question as we passed by the five or so examination rooms down the hall before we passed the first surgery room. God damn, this place was too nice for a town like Sheridan. Bernard grabbed the door beside the OR while Chuck pushed the gurney into the small room. Instead of an examination room, we were now in a... large closet?

Chuck locked down the gurney as Bernard kept working on the unconscious man, who now had his shirt off. Chuck, seeing the confusion on my face, quickly explained.

“We’re full up everywhere else,” Chuck said.

“So you put someone... in a closet?”

“We took a violent patient away from the others. There’s almost twenty people out there right now, and I don’t know about you, but I’m not looking to be sued because grandpa here can’t keep to himself.” Bernard said without looking away from his charge. “Now, if you don’t have any other questions we have work to do.”

I threw a hand up and took a step back.

Jesus, Bernard, you are an asshole, aren’t you?

While Bernard and Chuck examined the man, I took the opportunity to write another text to Eury.

Don’t leave the house until I get back there. Call me the moment you get this message. Just hole up there and stay safe.

Whatever the hell was going on, it wasn’t safe outside for anyone, but especially for her. My only hope was that she actually made it back to my place.

Oh god. The thought of Eury being out there alone. And me being here, trapped helping some scuzzy teacher, and the rudest doctor ever. I closed my eyes, trying to shut everything out for just a moment, but I only saw Eury getting attacked just like Donno. Just like all those people at O’Brian’s. Over and over and over. Helpless to do a damn thing about it.

The code to the gun safe is 54-28-15 the bullets are at the bottom. Don’t fire unless you are absolutely sure you are going to hit, and what you are pointing at is something that you absolutely want to go down. Just be careful Eury. I will be back. I will be back for you.

Almost hopeless.

Bernard’s harsh voice barked out another order. “Chuck. Get the ECG and I really need that box of Nitazo—”

“Dr. Sullivan!” A man shouted from outside.

Dr. Sullivan? Who’d be dumb enough to think that the mayor would be working in his clinic right now? A quick glance at my watch told me it was already quarter past three in the morning.

“Dr. Sullivan!” Upon the second holler, I started to recognize the voice. Who did that sound like?

“Hold him down!” Bernard suddenly shouted as grandpa woke up and suddenly began to flail. With Chuck out of the room, I jumped to action holding the old man down. Looking at him, he barely looked like a man. More like a rabid dog. Biting and snapping at the both of us. “Mr. Heywood! I need you to—”

The door burst open, sending grandpa into even more of a fit.

“Sully! We need to go.” The voice was gruff, tarred by years of cigarettes. It was Sheriff Keefe. “Sully come on!” And he sounded almost desperate.

“What the hell are you talking—hold him!—I've got work here!”

Sully? Why did that name sound so familiar? I looked at the young doctor's face, maybe a little too long to not be creepy, until I finally made the connection. I'm surprised I hadn't recognized him earlier, he did look exactly like his father after all. But I guess it was made harder because his asshole attitude didn’t match up with the Sully I heard of back in high school. I had never met him personally but I heard he was generally friendly and chill with everyone. A far cry from the man in front of me now.

“Dr. Sullivan has called for a town-wide evacuation. We got to get—” It took Keefe a moment to realize I was standing in the small room as well. “Bell, we need to get everyone healthy here to Marguerite school as soon as we can. Do you have your truck?” Behind him, Chuck returned with the ECG.

“It’s the wrecked one—” I struggled to keep Grandpa down. “Actually, give me your cuffs.” Keefe handed me his cuffs and I latched grandpa down to the bed. Now that he was restrained, Bernard and Chuck could continue their work. With that opportunity, I pulled Keefe aside and in a low tone, I whispered to him, “Sheriff, Deputy Donovan has been killed.”

“Wait what? Donovan? Are you sure?” Keefe said, pretty much shouting his question back at me.

“It looked like the perp he brought in on a drunken disorderly attacked him.”

“Oh my god.” He took his hat off, running his fingers through his thin white hair. “Where’s the perp?”

“Outside in the squad car, Boyde put a slug through his chest.”

He chewed on his lower lip, then nodded.“Good. An eye for an eye.”

In that moment, I didn’t know who or what was worse Keefe and his stupid cowboy law, or all the people losing their goddamned minds around here.

“Why’d he call for an evacuation,” Bernard asked, still focused on drawing blood from grandpa.

Keefe put his hat back on. “I dunno son, he didn't tell me much. Just that we gotta.” Of course, the mayor wouldn't tell him much. Keefe was just a dog, ordered to go fetch and ask no questions. “But your father asked me to come to get you personally, Sully. You and everyone else at the clinic. How many personnel are on shift right now?”

Chuck chimed in. “Including me and Dr. Sullivan, there’s four doctors and six nurses.”

“Ah shit.” Keefe scratched his short white beard. “I've got room for four in mine and there's a van on its way. Enough room for at least the rest of the doctors and nurses.”

“Go without me,” Bernard said without hesitation.

“No can do, son. Your father was very specific.”

“I don’t really care what my father—” Bernard was interrupted when Keefe walked over to him.

He tried to whisper, but that deaf asshole couldn’t to save his life. “Your mother asked for you too.”

Bernard’s eyes never moved from grandpa, and his hands never stopped working, but after hearing that, it was clear that he wasn’t here anymore.

“Please Sully, I don’t exactly know what’s going on, but both of ‘em are real worried about you. I couldn’t—”

“Fine.” Hearing the words as they left his mouth boiled my blood instantly.

“Fine? What the fuck do you mean fine?” I got in Bernard’s face. “You’re just gonna pack up and leave everyone? You're just gonna run the moment your mommy and daddy said so?”

“It isn’t like that!” He didn’t bother to look up from Grandpa, but he finally stopped working.

“Bull-fucking-shit. These people need your help, and you can’t just leave ‘em here!”

“I’m just… I’ll… I want to—”

Suddenly, Deputy Boyde pushed into the storage room. “Sheriff they’re all packed up.”

Keefe nodded at Boyde, then turned to Bernard. “Sully, we got to go. Now.”

For a single moment, Bernard looked at Sheriff Keefe before glancing back at me. Reluctantly, Bernard removed his bloodied-latex gloves. “Alright, let’s go.” He left first, followed close behind by Keefe then me.

“You fucking coward. You useless, worthless coward!” The waiting room, full of injured people and their loved ones, watched us as we spilled from the hallway. “If you run away now, I’d better never see your damn face again. ‘Cause next time, Doctor, I will make sure you get what’s fucking coming to you.”

Sheriff Keefe stopped me from following him out of the clinic. “That sounded an awful lot like a threat Deputy Bell. If you don’t want to lose your job, I’d suggest you calm down. Before you say something else stupid.”

“Stupid? Stupid! You think I’m going to say something stupid! Fuck you, Keefe.” I stabbed a finger at him, then at Bernard. “And that fucking coward doctor.”

“Now—”

I projected my voice so everyone in the waiting room could hear. “You’re just going to let all these folks wait and wait for what? At least tell them all the doctors are gone!”

That did the trick. The waiting room erupted into a panic when everyone who could started for the door. The worst of them that could still walk swarmed around Chuck who stopped behind the desk to grab his coat. Trying to take control of the situation, the Sheriff began to shout. “Folks, folks! Calm down! Everyone who isn’t sick, please make your way to Marguerite School as soon as you can. There will be food, and space for everyone there!” The people seemed to be in even more of a rush hearing that. As the tide of people dwindled off, Keefe looked at me. “You are welcome there as well, but just know, the moment this is all over, you will be under review.”

“Nah, I don’t think so.” I crossed my arms. “I quit you, fat fuck.”

Keefe shook his head while he whistled through his teeth. “Boyde, when you’re ready. I’m sure we can find a spot for you,” he said, looking past me.

I didn’t turn around to look at Boyde. I just knew he’d leave like a good little boy scout, all rules and no brains to go against the grain even when it was the right thing to do. “I’m staying, Sheriff.” Except he didn’t. “Gotta make sure Alaska and the others left make it to Marguerite, you know?”

Now, that was a surprise. A pleasant one as well. But it was kind of cute that Boyde thought he would be the one to get me there. Either way, I appreciated the sentiment.

“Hey Nurse, you coming?” Keefe said, looking over me without paying my glare attention.

“I ahh… I think I’m gonna stay too. Thanks, though.” Chuck said, still behind the desk trying to calm the few remaining patients down.

“Alright. Suit yourselves.” As Keefe walked back towards his jeep, I turned back to survey the hole I just dug for myself. The waiting room was mostly empty, thank God. A few people were still sleeping in their chairs, but hey, I had bigger fish to fry so I ignored them.

“Hey Chuck, how many people do you have in those rooms back there?”

“We’ve got about twenty or so rooms and I think they’re all full.”

“Good god. This night couldn’t get any worse could it?” I muttered under my breath.

And as if the universe couldn’t wait to slap me in the face again, a scream of terror came from the hallway. At the end of it, Grandpa was standing over Davis. His hand bleeding profusely from where he had pulled free from the tight cuff, peeling back the skin, revealing the muscle and bone beneath.

May 18, 2019 - 3:21 AM