Zombies in Paradise (Love in the Age of Zombies Book 2) Page 18

  “We have no more than fifty patients at a time. And they’re all in the emergency department or very close by.”

  They walked by the reception desk and turned down one of the halls. Portraits of benefactors lined the walls. The corridors were fairly dim; every other light fixture was unlit, and outside windows had the curtains open to allow natural light in. They approached a station where a man and a woman were looking at a clipboard and talking. They had LED lamps attached to the clipboards, lighting their charts. “They’re transcribing notes from the doctors. We’ve had to resort to an old filing system—paper and folders and filing cabinets. Hi, Tracey; hi, Theresa. Where’s Doctor Nunn?”

  “’T’sup, Carolyn?” Tracey asked, barely glancing at her. “He’s in the lounge. Mrs. Howard just had her baby.”

  “Finally! Everything okay?”

  “As far as I know, but I can’t tell you anything without a signed HIPAA form,” he said. Theresa snickered.

  “Bite me, Tracey,” Carolyn said good-naturedly.

  “No, thanks, I don’t want to turn!” Tracey shouted after them. Theresa laughed.

  “You know, that’s one thing I don’t miss. We don’t have any government regulations any more. No five-page registration forms. No preauthorization or out-of-network providers. Sometimes I think the zombies did us a favor by getting rid of the government!” As she said this last part, they entered a room labeled Private: Medical Staff Only. Windows on let in light; there were sofas and tasteful furniture decorating the room.

  A doctor reclining on one of several sofas overheard Carolyn’s last comment and, without taking his hand from over his eyes, said, “The government helped less fortunate people in more ways than you could ever imagine.”

  “And hurt ten thousand times that many in ways I can imagine,” Carolyn retorted without animosity. “Hey, Dr. Nunn, how’d the delivery go?”

  The doctor looked up with a weary face and said, “It went okay. Long labor, though. Baby and mom are fine, but mom will be sore for a while. I don’t know if I’ll ever get used to deliveries without epidurals or anesthetics. I cringe every time I have to do an episiotomy.” Kevin wasn’t sure what that was and didn’t want to know.

  Carolyn said, “Dr. Nunn, this is Kevin Williams. His wife is pregnant and is having some trouble. He wants to know if we can help. And with that,” she said, turning to me, “I’m headed to the pharmacy. Come say bye when you’re finished.” She briefly touched his arm as she spoke.

  The doctor looked Kevin over with bleary eyes. “What’s your wife’s name? You don’t look familiar.”

  “Her name’s Michelle. We don’t live here. I drove up from Ann Arbor.” Kevin gave a short explanation of Michelle’s pregnancy and Doc’s concerns, and of learning Frankfort may have a hospital.

  “Why did the doctor suspect she may have preeclampsia?” Dr. Nunn asked.

  “He said there was a genetic factor, plus she lost a baby a few years ago. She has increased risk because of her weight and she has some symptoms, like swelling. But don’t ask me more than that. I’m not the medical type and he used medical terms that didn’t stick. My wife is a nurse practitioner and she agreed with him. They told me the worst-case scenario is she could lose the baby and I could lose her.”

  “Your wife’s an NP? We could sure use her here! So what is it you want from me?”

  “My most important questions have already been answered: whether Frankfort is a safe haven and whether it really has a working hospital. If she were here and something went wrong, at least she could get some help.”

  “You said you have a doctor living with you. Can’t he do anything?”

  “He would help if he could, but neither of us shares her blood type. If she were here we could probably find a donor. How do you handle that sort of thing? How do you convince people to donate blood?”

  “At first we made it one of the civic duties we expected of everyone. But then we just turned it over to the barter system. We offer hospital credits in exchange for blood donations. They save enough points and can cash them in when they need us. Somebody donates a few times, they have a credit on their account. If something happens, they can come here and get helped without charge.”

  “What happens to someone who doesn’t have regular credits or hospital credits?”

  “Most people donate themselves out of debt or earn enough credits on their job to come in and pay the balance. If someone doesn’t appear to be making an effort, we turn them over to the barter committee, and the committee starts withholding extra credits. This is a small town now, and it seems everybody knows everybody else’s business. Folks don’t want to get the reputation of not paying their doctor and nurses.

  “So what else do you need? Yes, you could move here and be welcome, and yes, we could likely help out if she had any difficulty with her pregnancy or delivery. What more do you want?”

  “I’ll be honest with you,” Kevin said. “We have a good setup in Ann Arbor. We’re safe, we have plenty of supplies, we have power. I have a lot invested in my home. My house serves me well as a survival shelter. The three of us making a trip across territory filled with zombies and mercenaries and all kinds of danger is only slightly less risky than staying where we are and hoping for the best. She could die because of the pregnancy. Or we could all three die trying to make the trip here. I have to know if it’s worth the risk. And in the meantime, is there any kind of drug or equipment or anything you could loan me?”

  Dr. Nunn shook his head. “I can’t send you any blood, it has to be refrigerated. Doctors used to prescribe small doses of aspirin for preeclampsia, but there wasn’t much evidence to support the idea. The only cure for preeclampsia is birth. Sometimes that means a premature delivery. In the old days, the risk wasn’t that high. But now, with limited antibiotics and a finite blood supply, the risk of death to the mother or the baby is much higher. We don’t have the resources we once had to help prevent and combat a simple infection.” Kevin sat silent, thinking about the implications of the doctor’s statement. His heart and mind and spirit agreed; he had to do everything he could to help Michelle and the baby. He had to bring Michelle to Frankfort.

  “If we stayed in Ann Arbor and the unthinkable happened,” Kevin said quietly, “I couldn’t take it. Knowing there was something I should have done would eat me alive. I’d rather take the emotional risks associated with action than risks associated with inaction. I can’t just wait to see what happens.

  “I’ve seen some horrible things. I’ve seen women tortured and killed. I’ve seen my wife shoot and kill a man. I’ve had men beat me and I’ve been attacked by zombies. In my life, there’ve been times when I chose the easy way out. I can’t do that any more.”

  “There is no easy way out. Not anymore. But there’s not much I can give you here,” Dr. Nunn replied, too weary to feel much. “Our supplies are short and growing shorter and it doesn’t appear you have anything to barter.”

  “I used to be an IT specialist. I can fix computers. I’m also a homebrewer and hydroponic gardener. And my Jeep, which is only a few miles outside of Frankfort, has a case of whiskey. From what I’ve seen, that should be worth something.”

  “What kind of whiskey?” Dr. Nunn asked, raising his eyebrows.

  “I have Maker’s Mark, Jefferson Presidential, and two bottles of Old Weller Antique Twelve-Year.” Kevin replied, knowing he’d scored some points by the look in Dr. Nunn’s eyes.

  “That’s not great whiskey, but it’s good. As far as I know, there’s only one bottle of great whiskey left in Frankfort,” Dr. Nunn said. “And it’s in my cellar, a bottle of Old Rip Van Winkle Handmade 10 Year Old. I’m saving it.

  “I’d love to barter with you but there’s nothing I can really afford to give up. I don’t know how long our supplies will last as it is. We don’t have a renewable resource. When our supplies run out, it’s going to be tough. Tough on patients and tough on doctors. No pain meds, no antibiotics, no sedatives.” He had a grim lo
ok on his face which lightened when he looked back up at Kevin. “But should you decide to move here, I’m sure I can personally offer you something quite worthwhile for your whiskey. Just remember,” he said, raising his eyebrows and wagging his index finger, “I have first dibs. You might as well not even mention this—”

  Chapter Nineteen

  Carolyn walked into the room holding what looked suspiciously like a doctor’s bag and Dr. Nunn abruptly halted the conversation. She looked at Kevin and said, “I’m done for the day, so I’m headed out. I still have most of my garden to get in. So what are your plans?” she asked.

  “I got the answers I wanted and need to head home early in the morning. Right now I’m wondering where I’m going to spend the night. I suppose the hospital has empty beds?”

  “We do have empty beds, but we have a guest house in town that’s more comfortable. It’s not much, just an empty house with beds and bathrooms. But it’s heated and the linens are clean. It sure beats sleeping in the hospital. Or on the beach.”

  “Tell me about it,” Kevin mumbled, remembering his restless night on Menekaunee beach.

  “Front desk coverage seems hit-or-miss, so if nobody’s at the desk you just sign in. I can take you there. It’s on my way home,” Carolyn finished. Dr. Nunn glanced at her with a puzzled look. Kevin reached out and shook Dr. Nunn’s hand firmly. “Thanks for taking time to talk to me. I know you’re probably worn out from a long day.”

  “You can say that again. I’m going to go home and sleep like the dead. No zombie pun intended.”

  Kevin and Carolyn headed outside. The sun had already set and the light was failing in the evening sky. “So what do you think of our town?” Carolyn asked. “Has everyone painted things all rosy, like we’re getting along fine and everything is fair and equitable?”

  Kevin weighed her words. The question was rhetorical, as her tone implied a conclusion. “I understand about the barter system, and about Jake helping out, but you’ve also had attacks and some people have complained about the credit system.”

  “Complained. Is that how they put it?” Kevin could hear a tinge of anger in her voice. “The system they set up wasn’t fair. It didn’t treat everyone as equals. The talented and skillful were treated better than the poor and uneducated. The people who had no marketable talents and nothing to barter were left helpless. Do you know how that ended?”

  “When they got hungry they were motivated to get jobs and earn some credits.”

  “That’s true. It’s one perspective. My perspective is that there were people here in Frankfort, this supposed safe haven, who went hungry. Some of them were classic good-for-nothings. Some were uneducated. Some had mental deficiencies. Some were old before their time. We even had a few who were mentally unstable but not unstable enough to require containment.

  “Some of these people were incapable of having a job or even being left alone. With nothing to contribute, they couldn’t buy food. When their food ran out, they began to starve. Some of them didn’t even know they were starving. They were too oblivious. We had two people die of starvation—although the council referred to it as malnourishment—before anyone even realized what was happening. And here we are, eight months after the grid fell, and it’s still not resolved. Some folks are very adamant that they don’t want credits taken out of their pocket to take care of someone else’s parents, or spouse, or children. Each family should take care of its own. The other side argues that we can’t in good conscience be a community that allows its members to die of starvation while others have plenty. And then, of course, there are the town council members. None of them go hungry. Being a council member pays well.”

  She stopped and looked at him, aghast. “Can you imagine? We have people in this very town, the town I grew up in, who are happily eating well while their cross-town neighbors are dying of starvation!” She shook her head in dismay. “That’s the kind of society I wanted to get away from. The people in charge always benefit from their decisions no matter how much it hurts everyone else. It’s like the damn Republicans and Democrats all over again.”

  She motioned toward a building coming up on the left. “This is the guest house,” she said. “You can sleep comfortably and get an early start.” She set her medical kit on the sidewalk gave Kevin a sidelong glance. “But it’s still early and I’m not sleepy. If you want to come to my place and share a bottle of wine, I’d enjoy the company.”

  Kevin thought about it for a split-second. He enjoyed her company. She was smart and she was attractive. It would be fun to spend some time talking to an intelligent, experienced woman. He would enjoy getting to know someone new, someone who seemed to like him. Nice to laugh with someone new, to feel a connection. It would be such a boost to his always-flagging ego.

  But of course, he realized that she maybe, possibly, potentially desired more than just conversation, and he immediately thought of Michelle. The way she looked at him. The abandon he could see in her eyes when she let down her guard and let him see her naked self. And thinking of Michelle for that mere fraction of a second was all he needed.

  “I have to get on the road very early tomorrow. It will be a long, risky drive home. I have to be on my toes. While the temptation of sharing a bottle of wine with a beautiful woman—”

  “Flattery will get you everywhere,” she interrupted with a smile.

  “—on the coast of Lake Michigan is nearly more than I can resist, I’m afraid I have to decline. I need to get back home to Michelle.” He paused. “Carolyn, I find you an incredibly interesting and attractive woman. I would love to get to know you better. I need to stay focused on my goal. However, I’ll gladly take you up on your offer when we move here.”

  She stood close to Kevin. “If you change your mind, I live at 219 Sunset Boulevard. I have a very nice bottle of Old Mission Peninsula Riesling I’ve been waiting for an excuse to open!” She gave Kevin a quick and moderately chaste kiss on the lips and drew back. “I look forward to meeting your wife and doctor friend. I hope to see you again.”

  “Same here,” Kevin returned.

  Carolyn picked up her medical bag and looked at him with an expression he couldn’t quite make out in the dark. As he opened the door of the guest house, she touched him on the hand and said “You’re a swee—“

  Chapter Twenty

  The church bell pealed. Carolyn stopped in mid-sentence. The bell was tolling over and over: donnngdonng . . . donnngdonng . . . Within a matter of seconds, other church bells began to knell the same way. It had to be an alert system.

  “Uh-oh,” she said, “looks like we’ve got some trouble. I’ve gotta run.” She turned and began walking briskly back toward the hospital. Closing the guest house door, Kevin rushed to catch up.

  “What’s going on?”

  “That’s the Trinity Lutheran church bell. It means there’s a zombie loose. The northwest quadrant.” As she hurried along, Carolyn looked over at Kevin. “The first bell defines the emergency. One bell means a zombie’s loose. Two bells means the fence has been breached and there are multiple zombies. Three bells means we’re being attacked. Not by zombies. The second bell tells us the problem’s location.”

  “So what’s everyone do during an alarm like this?”

  “They’re supposed to head to safety, and people with guns are instructed to patrol the area looking for zombies or intruders. Most people head indoors, then peer out the window to see what’s going on. It’s not so bad during the day, but people get panicky at night when they can’t see what’s going on. The few times it happened, the zombies were spotted and eliminated quickly. Life went back to normal. Once you’ve been through it a few times, it begins to feel almost normal, like a fire drill or tornado warning. But all medical personnel are to head to the hospital in case we’re needed. I need to report to the pharmacy.”

  “I’ll join you. I’d like to see how the town handles problems like this.”

  “They don’t usually let people just stand around and watc
h, but I guess if I say you’re with me nobody will object. C’mon, keep up. We have to get there before any victims do.” Kevin increased his stride, slightly embarrassed that a woman had to tell him to keep up.

  “What do you do for the victims?”

  “It all depends on what their injuries are. If it’s a bite, we make them comfortable unless they’re freaking out, then we restrain them. If it’s anything else, we treat them like any regular emergency room patient. We treat them, patch them up the best we can, give them what drugs are available, and either send them home or keep them overnight until they’re well enough to leave.”

  “So you’ve seen bite victims?”

  “Yes. It’s never pleasant. Especially if they’re still conscious. Some of the victims demand to be released. Others beg us to kill them. Everybody knows the consequences of a zombie bite.”

  “How do you restrain them? I’ve never been in a hospital when restraints were used.” Kevin struggled not to pant as once again they climbed the hill to the hospital.

  “We strap them down to a bed. We always hope that maybe one of them will live. But so far, every bite victim quickly deteriorates. They start running a fever, it gets higher and higher, and usually within a few hours they lose consciousness if we haven’t already put them under. The ones who are angry and violent we used to sedate, but now we don’t waste the drugs, we restrain them. Otherwise they upset everyone and break things. We’ve had a few real heartbreakers where the victim sent for their spouse and family so they could say goodbye. We’ve had child victims whose parents came to be with them to the end. I’ve learned firsthand that life is short and unpredictable. Love while you can.”

  They entered the foyer of the emergency room and found a handful of people doing what they could to prepare for the incoming patient. “Any word?” Carolyn asked.

  “We had a radio call. A tree fell on the fence just past Adams road. A bunch of zombies got through.”

  “What do you mean by a bunch?” she asked. “Ten? A hundred?”