Pathogen, Ch. 5

In hindsight, faking a potentially deadly illness was neither Marnie's smartest nor proudest choice. The minute an EMT tried to stick a needle in her, she rose up off her bed, stunning everyone with her sudden, miraculous "recovery". Mrs. Snopes was suspicious from that moment on, but the school nurse was as gullible as ever. Despite her protests that she felt so much better than before, he insisted she be taken to the hospital with her peers for a full check-up just in case. At least Julian was given permission to go with her, making the experience marginally less awful.

If there was one thing Marnie hated more than funerals, it was hospitals. Her reasons for it, however, were not as easy to explain. Maybe it was that smell; an unsettling mixture of bleach, artificially-scented air freshener, and death. The noises were always a pain, too, all those machines beeping and people talking in hushed tones in the hallways. Marnie never really met a nurse or doctor she liked, either. They were always nice, and friendly to an annoying fault, but their kindness never seemed to go deeper than the uncomfortably cheerful smiles on their faces.

Her deathly ill classmates were each taken to their own bay once they got to the ER, but there weren't enough beds available for Marnie to get one too. She tried once more to explain that she didn't really need to see a doctor, but the admitting nurse would hear none of it. So, to absolutely no one's surprise, Marnie was exiled to the waiting room with the rest of Boston's hacking, snotty scum until a bed opened up.

"This is all your fault," Marnie muttered, her knees jiggling up and down as she hugged herself anxiously.

Julian lowered the copy of Good Housekeeping he was thumbing through with a start, frowning at Marnie in confusion. "Wha...? How the H-E-double-hockey-sticks is this my fault?! You were the one who decided to kiss the concrete, chica, not me!"

"I only did that because you pretended to be sick first," she hissed. "Mom better get my transcript ready, because the minute they find out I was faking, my career at Thomas Jefferson High is donezo!"

Julian squirmed in his seat, his bronze face lined with anxiety. "They might not call your mom," he said, although his tone was dripping with doubt. "Who knows? If we can convince them that it was only a fainting spell, maybe they'll just let me take you home. No muss, no fuss. Your mom won't ever have to know."

Marnie fell silent as she weighed Julian's scenario in her head. It wasn't an impossible outcome, granted, but it was a highly improbable one. She was only sixteen after all - a minor - so the hospital would be within its rights to contact her legal guardian ASAP. Also, knowing her math teacher's mild vindictive streak, Mrs. Snopes probably called Marnie's mom before the ambulance even rolled out of the school's parking lot. The only likely reason that Lt. Phoebe Nightingale wasn't storming the hospital like Hell on wheels was because she was neck deep in something at work. Such were the hazards of working on a military base: sometimes national security outweighed family issues. Marnie was used to that.

While Marnie was slowly coming to terms with the likelihood of being grounded until the age of forty, a man burst through the doors of the emergency room. His dark face was ashen with fright and his eyes wide with panic, most of which Marnie guessed had to do with the unconscious woman in his arms.

"Somebody, help me, please!" he begged. "My wife... sh-she needs help!"

Marnie grabbed a copy of People Magazine to hide behind, as it felt wrong to eavesdrop on someone else's tragedy. The guy and his wife seemed to be in good hands, as a team of nurses jogged right over to them with a gurney. She couldn't hear what they were saying to him - not that she really cared to, considering it wasn't any of her business - but it was impossible not to hear his response.

"What do you mean we have to wait?!" he shouted. "My wife is barely breathing! I don't care if I have to build the bed myself, just do something!!"

A middle-aged woman with short blonde hair got up from her seat a few chairs away from Marnie and stormed right up to the guy, even though no one asked her to. Even at a distance, Marnie could feel her brimming over with white-hot Karen energy from her hairdo all the way down to her floral print Easy Spirits sneakers.

"We've all been waiting a lot longer than you, Pal!" she snapped. "I've been here for over three hours now, and I'm pretty sure I'm next on the list! Your wife looks fine to me, so take a friggin' chill pill and sit down!"

As soon as the words left the Karen's lips, the unconscious woman spasmed uncontrollably on her gurney. The nurses managed to get the woman's shaking under control after a minute or two, then immediately started checking her vitals. Marnie was sure the poor woman had passed out cold, but it turned out she was dead wrong.

"I'm not getting a pulse," the lead nurse announced. "Joey, get the paddles! Roy, start chest compressions! Now!"

Marnie had to look away, unable to bear the heartbreaking sight. She tried to focus all her energy and attention on her magazine, desperate to block out the nurses' attempts to resuscitate the poor woman. After reading an article about Leo DiCaprio's new girlfriend for three times and retaining none of it, Marnie realized everything had gotten quiet all of a sudden. Holding her breath and her last shred of hope, she peeked over the top of her magazine at the nurses and the woman they were trying to save.

They spoke in melancholy whispers over the motionless woman, their faces grim and stony. The husband was blubbering so hard he could hardly stand, leaning on an orderly for support. Karen was still lurking close to the scene, either from shock or pure morbid curiosity. No one in the waiting room said a word or even dared to breathe, scared stiff by the icy cold presence of death in their midst.

After a minute or two of silence, Karen suddenly moved closer to the gurney, squinting at the woman on it. "Wait... I just saw her hand move. Look: she just did it again!" She turned to the entire waiting room with a smile then, adjusting her gaudy butterfly-print scarf. "It's okay, everyone! She's okay!"

Marnie slowly let out her breath, allowing relief to wash over her. It was extremely short-lived, though, after she glanced at the nurses again. They all seemed confused and clearly disturbed. After re-checking the woman's vitals, they muttered and shook their heads at each other. There seemed to be no doubt among them that the woman had no pulse and that she wasn't breathing. If that was true, though, how could she still move? By now, even Marnie could see her hands and feet twitching.

A second later, everything Marnie thought she knew about life and death went crashing out the window.

Before anyone knew what was happening, the dead woman sat up straight with a jerk and lunged at Karen. The older woman was caught completely be surprise; she didn't even have time to scream before a sizeable chunk was bitten out of her shoulder. That instant, the waiting room flipped a whole one-eighty, going from frozen solid in their seats to screaming and running for the exits in under two seconds. Marnie was still paralyzed with terror, her brain trying to find reason in what her eyes were seeing, as the woman's reanimated corpse turned on the nurses next. She probably would have sat there forever - glued to her seat until it was her turn to be munched on - if Julian hadn't grabbed her hand and yanked her to her feet.

"Move, Pistol!!" he demanded, dragging her toward the door with the rest of the stampede.

Marnie was too frightened and traumatized to even think. She let Julian pull and push her around like a rag doll while the grinding gears in her head were in danger of overheating. She didn't even know where he was taking her, only half aware that she was getting dragged across the hospital's parking lot. Several cars zipped past them at top speed, almost hitting them more than once. They saw three fender benders first hand one after the other, as a result of the drivers' obvious panicked instincts to flee. No one stopped to swap information, however; those who could still operate their vehicles just drove on, not caring about the dents and damage they'd just sustained. The cars that were too banged up to drive were ultimately abandoned, and their owners fled on foot instead.

When Marnie's brain finally caught up to her body, she and Julian were running down the street together. She needed a break, so she grabbed him by the neck and pulled him into the first doorway she saw: the local butcher shop. The sign on the door said, "Out to lunch," with a little paper clock indicating when the owner would be back. Normally, Marnie would have waited outside until the store was officially open, but there were extenuating circumstances. It wasn't technically breaking and entering anyway if the door was already unlocked, which it was.

Julian moved a heavy wooden sign in front of the door to barricade it while Marnie dropped into a squat, sucking air like it was going out of style. The burning in her lungs had subsided a little when he flopped down onto the floor beside her, shaking like a dry leaf in the Autumn wind.

"Wh-What the heck... just happened back there?!" he panted. "I mean... that lady was dead... then she wasn't... and then... sh-she totally went Mike Tyson on that other lady!"

"Technically, Mike Tyson bit someone's ear off," Marnie corrected, "...but yeah... that was crazy."

Julian placed his hand flat on the floor, less than an inch away from Marnie's. After a moment, he slid it closer and gripped her fingers fearfully. "Pistol," he murmured. "Y-You don't think she was... y'know... do you?"

Marnie blinked at Julian for a second, mostly because she was surprised by him suddenly holding her hand. "What? No; no way," she scoffed, pulling her hand free of his. She sank down onto her rear, sitting cross-legged, and folded her arms defiantly. "You've been playing way too many video games, Jules. Monsters don't exist. It's scientifically impossible!"

Julian drew his knees to his chin with a frown, but he kept his eyes trained on the tiles. "I'm not saying you're wrong," he muttered, "but I also can't deny what I saw with my own two eyes. I mean, she sure acted like a--"

A loud bang from behind them made both teens jump from their skins. Marnie was the first on her feet, hesitating before moving in to investigate to the noise. The curved glass display case separating the lobby from the kitchen prevented her from getting any closer, not that she really wanted to. Taking a gulp to steel her nerves, she leaned over the counter and craned her neck, trying to see around the corner into the back of the shop.

All she saw was a hunched male figure squatting on the floor. His suit was absolutely filthy, caked in dirt and torn in several places, like he'd been living under a bridge for a week. The butcher's walk-in fridge was hanging open, thanks to an overturned metal rack that kept it from closing. Several bins filled with steaks, chicken parts, and pork cutlets littered the floor, one of which was right next to the well-dressed hobo. Marnie was prepared to back away and leave the guy to his business without saying a word, until she realized he was gnawing on a raw steak.

She must've gagged or made a noise, because a moment later he turned and looked right at her. When she saw his face, Marnie's heart leapt from her chest and flopped onto the back of her tongue in three seconds flat.

It was Trevor. So he was alive, just like she'd suspected. After a moment, though, Marnie realized something about him was way off. Trevor's naturally sun-kissed complexion was much paler than it should have been, so white it was almost grey. Marnie was pretty sure his eyes were blue at one time, but now they were glazed with this weird film that made them a muddy grey-green. His face and hands were littered with scrapes and scratches of varying depths, some of which looked pretty fresh, but there wasn't a single drop of blood leaking from them.

Trevor Kennedy had died, yet somehow he was still alive. The way he looked at her, still chewing on that steak with nothing but hunger in his otherwise vacant stare, sent chills zooming up and down her spine. It was him, but it wasn't. Not anymore. Marnie didn't want to believe what she was seeing, but there only seemed to be one explanation for it all.

Trevor Kennedy was a zombie.