Patient One

A wondrous tale of woe, the zombie apocalypse, and hot moms. A modest project for English Class.

Patient One

A Short Story, by Maddi D.

Can and I were best friends. During the week we would b-boy* together, and talk about studying for our tests, and during the weekends we would forget about school altogether and keep breaking*. We even thought about starting a crew sometimes.

When the Infection spread, Can was out of town, and I was in the hospital for a broken leg I got trying to do a Lotus Flare* on the street.

That's right. I was there when Patient Zero ripped open a nurse's face and drooled over her gray matter like it was a Christmas turkey. I was there when everyone around me scrambled towards the exits, only to spread the Infection even farther. Some people think that the hospital was the “eye of the storm,” and that there actually were survivors that locked themselves in a hidden ward. It's not. I made sure of that. Once Patient Zero, kindly known by other Infected as Charles, got past the hospital's quarantine room, he promptly de-brained everyone in the ICU. I couldn't walk, so naturally I was a sitting duck. But Charles took pity on me, and sat down next to me on my bed, the smell of his rotting flesh nearly unbearable. He seemed pretty cool, but his mottled skin tipped me off, and I was too terrified to move.

He sighed, “Why does everyone run?”

“Wh- What do you mean?” I tried to shift around, but he was sitting on my good leg. I could see the voracious appetite in his face, hidden underneath a layer of pity.

“I just don't get it. I'm hungry, so I eat, then someone screams... and...” He sighed again. “There are just too many prejudiced bastards around here.”

“What, racism?” I would rather have kept him talking than let him remember his appetite.

“Cannibalism. It was the only way.”

“Well, that sucks...” The least I could do was be polite.

He continued, “They gave me a selection of anything in the cafeteria, they tried an IV... nothing worked. I can only be satisfied with fresh meat.” His eyes traveled up my body hungrily, then back down at the linoleum ground. “Don't worry, boy,” he reassured me, “You're the only one that hasn't tried escaping, so I'm not going to eat you. ”

I wasn't too thrilled that a zombie was sitting on my leg, 'fessing up to me, but I relaxed at the thought of staying alive.

“And you're going to be Infected soon anyway.”

“What?!”

*                    *                    *

And so I became “Patient One.” Apparently Charles was so hungry that he had eaten nearly everyone tending to him in the quarantine room and everyone in the ICU. Luckily that satisfied his hunger enough to come to his senses again, and when he saw me, he couldn't help but let me live. Well, for as long as I could. I became the second zombie in existence, and as first mate to Charles, the hunger overcame me and we cleaned out everyone in the hospital. There were a few exceptions, like Anika from the Cancer Ward who had already accepted her death, and little, eight-year-old Peter, who we had revived from a coma, but subsequently caused him to join the ranks of the undead. As it happened, he was really grateful.

We didn't want to become murderers, but our appetites were too powerful. If we didn't eat we would go insane, and if we did guilt would overcome us. Normal food didn't help any; it all tasted like crap. While we scavenged the evacuated town for lost tourists, abandoned children, and more Infected people, Anika sniffed out a house filled with people. Of course, because she was nearly starving, she didn't tell us, and went in by herself. We didn't notice until we heard the gunshot. She burst out of the front door, knocking it down, and shambled her way towards us, her shot leg hanging by a single tendon. Behind her were several meaty-looking guys, all about my age, wearing gas masks, ripped coats, and holding various weapons; a resistance, probably. There was most likely a bomb shelter under the house, with food and other supplies. They thought they could hide with a flimsy front door like that? In the hospital Charles was able to pick the lock into a supply closet and shatter several windows with ease. What did they think, that we were stupid? Well, I guess it must've been all those zombie movies that show us as mindless monsters... but, just like Charles said, they were prejudiced bastards! It almost made me want to laugh. They hadn't even aimed for Anika's heart, the only vital point left.

This got me feeling cocky. I would show these zombie movie junkies that we weren't idiots. I grabbed a discarded shovel from the yard next door and stormed them. As Anika hid behind a nearby shrub next to Peter, I went right up to the one holding the rifle and bashed his head in with the shovel. My flesh might've been decaying but I still had enough strength in me to down the asshole. The others stood shocked, and I took the opportunity to introduce them to Mr. Shovel. Charles joined in with a baseball bat he found somewhere. It was great.

After it was all over Anika and Peter joined us and we had a little picnic. I missed the tang of cancerous tumors, but it was all the same to the others.

I remembered all the lunches I would share with Can, and I lost my appetite. I didn't think a zombie could lose his appetite that quickly. Where was Can? I wondered. I hoped he wasn't dead or anything. If he was Infected that would be okay, but if another zombie had eaten him I would've been pissed. It had already been a week since he left; a week since the Infection spread. He should have been back in town already, but maybe he was kicking zombie ass. Or maybe he was dead.

“Come on, let's go.” Charles helped me up and we kept walking, towards the center of town. Along the way we found a few more herds of idiots with shotguns, but they were taken care of easily. Luckily they kept us well fed and sane for the next few days.

We passed through the suburbs, where Peter used to live. His pet dog, Law, was still chained to it's doghouse, and started yapping as soon as we came close. Peter would have cried if his tear ducts were still existent. He embraced the small, Scottish terrier and unlatched it's collar. Two old friends finally reunited. But instead of returning the greeting, Law bit his ear off, and desperately clawed it's way out of the boy's arms. It sprinted away as quickly as it could, barking wildly as it went. I thought of Can again. He wouldn't be such a jackass, would he? The voracious, cannibalistic hunger that was beginning to creep up on me subsided. It was replaced by a normal human appetite. I craved for one of Can's mom's neighborhood-famous cookies. Not to mention Can's mom; she was smokin'! I even had a crush on her in the third grade.

Charles nudged me. “Uh, hard-on,” he muttered.

I looked down and turned away nervously, covering my crotch.

Peter was sitting on the ground, petrified. I felt kinda bad for him, but I was mostly glad it wasn't me. I began to hope that Can had gone zombie, like me. That meant a better chance of him not popping a cap in my undead ass. Then again, I could probably beat him up pretty bad before he could get me, and then I could Infect him. He would probably be pissed off if I did that, though. But at least he wouldn't have to kill me, and knowing him, he would probably get over it and admit that zombies were badass.

“What are you thinking about?” Anika was suddenly standing next to me, trying to look cute.

I snapped back into reality. My crotch was back to normal, and I relaxed. “Just thinking about a friend...”

“I know what you mean,” she admitted. “We all have someone we left behind.” She sidled up closer to me, her lower leg still dangling from her patella. Was she trying to be sexy? I hoped she knew it wasn't really working with the whole zombie thing going on. And aside from that, wasn't she like, ten years older than me?

“Uh... yeah...”

“I'm sure you'll find who you're looking fo-”

Suddenly an array of wild gunfire pierced the sky. Down the street all four of us could see a silver Hummer rounding the corner, three guys were sticking out of the roof, shooting their semi-automatics around wildly.

“Alright, let's do this, kid.” Charles stood tall and held up his baseball bat.

I got my shovel ready, but then the faces of the people in the Hummer were clear. It was Can, his brother, Jet, and his dad Mr. Nguyen. I never thought I'd see the old man waving his old army gun around like he was, but then again, an apocalypse could do things to people.

I still had some time before they came too close. I found a case of six empty beer bottles lying abandoned on a doorstep. I brought them out to the road and smashed them all, then ran back to the curb. Luckily, the driver of the Hummer didn't notice, and the tires were shredded. The car wobbled down the road, and finally someone was smart enough to slam on the brakes. I saw Can lurch forward and almost fell out of the sunroof.

He did that before when we were ten and “learning” to drive his mom's Mercedes. I had been discovering the brake pedal while he was standing out the sunroof like those college kids do in the movies. You could probably guess what happened after that. Three weeks in the hospital and another five grounded.

Charles ran out to get them with his baseball bat, but I ran after him and tackled him down to the ground, football-style. “No!” I yelled at him. “Don't do it, Charles!”

“Why the hell not?!” He shoved me away, and I fell on my ass on the blacktop. He tried to stand up, but he was promptly shot in the chest. I stayed down, unmoving. Sarah and Peter came to help, but they were down on the ground before I could even realize that they were just shot un-undead by my best friend. Can walked up to me. I was at pointblank range with a gun ready to pump me full of bullets.

“Wait! Wait! Wait, Can!” I screamed, my degenerative windpipes taking serious damage. Jeez, I sounded like a schoolgirl with the flu.

Can seemed to be surprised that I could talk, and even more surprised when he realized that it was me.

“Can...” I rasped. “Can, it's me!” The hungering was gone completely. I couldn't feel the approach of insanity bearing down on me anymore. Funny thing.

He put his gun down, and looked into my, from what I could tell, colorless eyes. His dad and brother crowded around me as well, lowering their weapons. Can opened his mouth to speak, but hesitated. Then he finally whispered, “Matt? Is that you?”

I nodded gratefully. Utter relief swept over me and everything went black. But I swear, I'm not the kind of guy that usually faints. Really.

(*Footnotes: B-boying and breaking are the two more official terms for breakdancing. A Lotus Flare is an epic breakdancing move. Kind of dangerous.)