DAY 34

When I asked my new neighbor, Dr. Beth, if she had a theory as to why the zombies didn’t attack one another, she said it was possible that since they’re entire brain was longer functioning properly, it could be that they were no longer producing certain amino acids, and that made them somehow taste “wrong” to each other.  Beth also suggested that the virus working inside them could have that effect as well.  When I told her that I had been bitten, chewed on was what I had actually said, she told me it would require further study and handed me a list of equipment she needed from the hospital.  I believe that was her way of saying, “I don’t know, stop bothering me, kid.”

Bert and I headed out in his Lexus GX.  Our first stop was right around the corner at one of UW’s neighborhood clinics.  The clinic was on the second floor of a seven-story building, and one look through the window on the first floor told us that getting to the clinic would be difficult at best.  Dead littered the floor, and many of those visible had been, to one extent or another, eaten.  We could also see at least a few zombies in various states of health.  I could only assume that at some point even zombies would refuse to eat rotting meat.  We decided to try the hospital, but I had less than high hopes for getting in.

The problem was that as soon as people started getting sick, they went to see doctors.  Hospitals, urgent care centers, clinics, private practices, and even some nursing and medical assistant schools were overrun with people who had contracted the virus.  There was nothing anyone could do about it though, and most of those people died waiting and hoping for a miracle.  But the problem now was that those places were all infested with zombies, and trying to get in to get anything could be suicide.

The nearest major hospital was the Swedish Medical Center, and Bert and I made our way there without too much difficulty.  We only had to drive past the place to see that we were going to be returning to Beth empty-handed.  But I did want to try something out before going back.  I had Bert drive us to a nearby hardware store, and I picked up four metal garbage cans and four gas-powered chainsaws.  Bert’s first guess when he saw what I wanted was that I was going to start collecting zombie heads.  After filling each of the chainsaws about half way, we went back to the hospital.

Like most hospitals, Swedish was made up of several buildings covering a fairly large area.  I had Bert drive as close to the main entrance as possible, and shot out the windows with my shotgun.  We raced away and stopped about 200 yards from the entrance.  I placed one of the garbage cans in the middle of the street, started a chainsaw, and then dropped it into the can.  It was ridiculously loud and began attracting zombies immediately.  We did the same thing to three of the other buildings around the hospital campus, and then pulled to a safe distance and watched for a short time.

It appeared to be working; of course it was also attracting zombies that hadn’t been in the hospital, but I thought it was a good start.  I wasn’t sure how long the chainsaws would run for, but once they did stop, the zombies should disperse leaving at least the first floors of the buildings empty.  Bert liked the plan, Beth wasn’t as enthusiastic, but she was impatient to continue her work.  I am not willing to take any unnecessary risks just so she can satisfy her curiosity.  We’ll see how this goes.




(To see how the pandemic began, and to meet more survivors, check out my novel, The Immortal And The Dead, on The Immortal And The Dead)


About scottamehlman

Scott A. Mehlman was born and (mostly) raised in Cleveland, Ohio. Having earned both a BS and an MBA, Scott has tried his hand at a variety of jobs without finding one that truly satisfied or engaged his creative impulses the way writing does. He has published his first novel, The Immortal and The Dead, which is the first book in The Immortal Virus trilogy and continues to work on the JAEGER e-book series.

Posted on November 19, 2013, in Fiction and tagged , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: