Page 8 of Surviving Her

Doing her best to avoid attention, River made her way around the building. The side door was slightly ajar, and as she approached, Sheila quickly pulled it open.

The interior of the hospital was pandemonium the likes of which River had never seen. Patients filled every available space, their moans and cries blending into one single scream of distress. The staff moved quickly but looked as exhausted as River felt, their faces reflecting the strain of what was clearly becoming an impossible task. Sheila, holding River’s arm with a firm grip, led her inside.

“Do you think you caught the virus?” the nurse asked in a straightforward tone.

River shook her head. “No, it’s my dad. He’s up at this cabin we have in Northanger Forest, and he really needs help. Please, is there anyone who can see him?”

The nurse’s weary eyes met hers, and she nodded. “I remember your dad. He was a ranger up there. I used to be a scout. He’d teach us canoeing and stuff at summer camp—he’s a really nice guy. Listen, I’ll try to find someone who can help, for old times’ sake. But you need to know we’re barely keeping up here.”

River nodded, her mind racing. “Thank you, Sheila. I owe you one. Please hurry.”

As the nurse disappeared into the chaos, River stood in the hallway, trying to make sense of the scene around her. The sight of so many patients in distress and the frantic pace of the overworked staff were like something out of a horror movie.

“It’s spreading too fast…we’re losing control.” One nurse’s voice trembled as she spoke on the phone, her words barely audible above the noise.

The patients she saw were either thrashing out in anger as staff walked past them or sitting on benches in eerily catatonic states, their eyes vacant and unseeing.

What did that man say? Zombies? No. Get a fucking grip, Riv.

But the man’s words were starting to seem more like reality with each passing second.

The realization that the hospital might not be the refuge she’d hoped for was starting to sink in. Her father’s condition was bound to be deteriorating by this point, and if she didn’t get help to him soon, she knew she’d lose him. She faced a critical decision: continue searching for help in this hellhole, or plan an escape from Campdale.

4

ELIZA

The surgical lamp flickered, casting a sterile light over the operating table. It kept coming on and going off again.

I can’t work like this. What the hell am I playing at?

Eliza’s gloved hands moved with the precision of the seasoned surgeon she was despite her nerves. She’d managed to escape the turmoil of ER and was now in her comfort zone. The OR had always felt like home to her.

She wasn’t just removing a leg—she was trying to save a life in a world that had clearly gone mad. Never had Eliza seen anything like this in her entire career at Holy Souls. The teenage boy on the table, his face pale and drenched in sweat, had been bitten. Eliza thought she knew what this meant, but she wasn’t prepared to admit it to herself just yet. Nor was she prepared to lose this kid.

The air around her and the two nurses she’d managed to drag in to help her was heavy, not just with the usual smells of antiseptic and bleached floors, but with fear—raw, unfiltered fear. Eliza had always prided herself on being composed and professional, but right now she had a severe case of the jitters. The nurse beside her, Bobby, who’d only recently arrived inCampdale, kept glancing at the door, his breathing audibly quick and shallow.

“Bobby, come on. We need to focus here,” Eliza said, trying to keep her voice steady.

Bobby rubbed his temples. “I know, but this is crazy. I mean, a kid with a zombie bite? It’s just that…”

Eliza cut him off with a long sigh. “Bobby, please. Let’s not use that word, alright? We don’t know what’s going on yet. Just keep your shit together.”

Bobby shook his head in frustration. “Wow, I’ve never heard you curse before, Dr. Carter. I just don’t get it, though. How does a kid get bitten? His mom said his older sister did this. I can’t get my head around it.”

“Then don’t,” Eliza replied, feeling her irritation move up a notch. “It’s happened. It’s happeningnow. And this kid is counting on us.”

Bobby’s eyes narrowed with a mix of curiosity and fear. “But someone in his own family did this to him?”

Eliza nodded without moving her eyes from the boy on the table. “I don’t think anyone’s saying much. From what I understood, the sister was frantic. His mother was almost catatonic when she brought him in.”

Bobby let out a shaky breath. “So, what does that mean? Is the mother a zombie, too?”

Eliza hesitated, her hands momentarily stilling as she tried to wrestle with her thoughts. “Bobby! Quit it with the goddamn zombie talk. There’s a bug going around. It’s a disease like any other, but with what looks to be a high infection rate. I can’t comment on where, how, why, or when his sister did this to him, so leave the questions for later. And preferably for someone else.”

“I reckon that mom was hiding something,” Bobby continued, his voice growing more urgent. “What if she knowsmore than she’s letting on? What if this isn’t just some random attack, but part of what’s going on…out there?”

Eliza’s eyes met his. “Your guess is as good as mine at this stage. But we need to stay focused on the kid. If he’s showing symptoms?—”

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