The Virus by Lee, Damien (summer books txt) 📕

pallid skin was tight over her face, angry sores covered her body, and the blood vessels in her eyes had ruptured. He had worked with the deceased for nigh on twenty years, and in that time he had learned to repress any feelings of grief. Whether it was fear of the unknown virus, the hectic workload of that morning, or the promise of more bodies by the end of his shift, Joe could not decide, but his occupation was starting to get the better of him.

He wiped his brow once more and pulled the sheet over the corpse. Hunger had set in, and he knew he needed nourishment before he could continue his grisly task. With that, he left the corpse in the corridor and made for the kitchen. With his co-worker calling in sick, Joe had to examine the dead patients on his own. He had worked alone frequently during his time at the hospital, but never at a time of such dire need. He knew if there were any more fatalities, the examinations would have to wait until the next day. Dread merged with the gnawing sensation of hunger in his stomach. If he didn’t eat soon, nausea would overpower him and he would not complete his tasks. With this in mind, he entered the kitchen.

The overhead lights cast a harsh glare as he looked around the room. He squinted as he made his way over to the refrigerator, his eyes adjusting to the sudden brightness. The sterile surfaces glimmered as he retrieved his lunch and sat at the table. Various magazines lay scattered on the surface, most of which had been there for the past six months. Few people ate in the kitchen during their lunch break, opting to venture out to the canteen or café within the hospital. Yet, Joe had always preferred to eat his meals in the comfort of the mortuary. It made him feel more at ease to eat alone with the deceased, rather than face the living in the rest of the hospital.

A muffled thud in the corridor disturbed the solitude of the morgue. Joe put down his sandwich and gazed at the door. The sound came again, only this time it was more prominent. A heavy slap met his ears, followed by a low groan. He rose from his seat with visions of an undead corpse shuffling towards the kitchen. He knew it was impossible, but he failed to think of an alternative. The morgue was closed off to most staff, and the only living person in there was him. There were no windows, and only one way into the department was through a secure door.

His heart hammered against his chest. The sound of shuffling footsteps drew closer. He glanced around the room, looking for something to defend himself with should the person outside be a threat. He knew it was illogical, but something at the back of his mind told him he was in danger. The footsteps approached, getting louder and louder until they were right outside the door. But then they diminished. The intruder passed. Joe exhaled deeply as the echo from the footsteps faded to nothing.

He took a slow, deep breath before creeping over to the door. Despite his apprehensiveness, he had to find out who was there. There was no sound coming from outside. With trembling hands, he gripped the door handle. It felt slippery under his sweaty palms. He slowly opened the door, cringing as the hinges squeaked in protest. He stopped and listened again. There was no sound. He eased the door open further and slipped through the gap into the corridor. There was nobody there. Upon inspection, Joe realised how literal this observation was. The corpse had gone. The examination trolley was empty.

Similar visions of a naked, shambling cadaver roaming the corridors filled his mind. He dismissed the idea. Dead people don’t come back to life. Once somebody enters the morgue on a steel trolley with a sheet over their face, they don’t get back up. Somebody had moved the body. He couldn’t decide which was worse; an undead corpse wandering the corridors, or a twisted body snatcher looking for an escape route. It didn’t take long to find out which it was.

The rhythmic slapping of bare feet met his ears. Joe made to turn, but was seized in a fierce embrace. Before he could scream, a portion of flesh was ripped from the back of his neck. Now, he found his voice. With a cry of agony, he whirled around, hurling his attacker aside. The woman’s corpse screeched and lunged at him once more. This time he was ready and seized her head with both hands. She fought against his grip. Twisting her head, she ripped off a section of his thumb. Joe screamed for a second time as the crazed woman feasted on his flesh.

Blinded by pain, he shoved her aside and made for the exit. He could hear her in pursuit, her bare feet slapping against the floor. He knew he’d never outrun her. Cradling his injured hand, he shouldered open the nearest door. A rectangle of light briefly illuminated the area before he slammed the door behind him. The room was plunged into darkness.

The dead woman pounded the door, shrieking with every strike. Joe stood firm, using all his strength to keep the monster at bay. He tried to look around for a weapon, but his eyes could not penetrate the vast darkness of the windowless room. At the back of his mind, he wondered where he had escaped to, but this thought was superseded by another; how was he going to survive?

Seconds passed and the woman’s attempts grew more futile. Joe tried to slow his breathing, but fear still gripped him. Worse still, the blood loss had started to make him lightheaded. Finally, the pounding stopped and he could hear the zombie shamble away down the corridor. He eased