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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic

The story of a 16 year old girl named Kaylee Lewis in a zombie apocalyptic future. After surviving the main attack purely by chance,she 'adopts' two children and together they set out to face life against the odds in their new world. Rated R because of the gore and traumatizing scene in the first chapter.

Chapter 1 (v.1) - Survival

Submitted: April 30, 2013

Reads: 106

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Submitted: April 30, 2013




Someone was screaming. That was what woke me up.. It sounded so far off. Had I imagined it?
The second thing that to register in my brain was the pain. The sharp, stinging pain. I opened my eyes but saw only darkness. The muffled screams filtered through whatever dark space I was enclosed in. Where was I? A crack of light shone through an unknown gap and I pushed my hand out towards it. Doors flung wide open and graceful as ever, I fell out of the storage closet flat onto my face. More pain, and i looked down to see my hands an knees covered in tiny bits if broken glass. A smashed window above my head had provided both the light and the source of my new pain. How long had I been in that closet? I stood, careful not to implant anymore glass into my skin. I took two steps forward before a throbbing in my head brought me to my knees. A few moments later, I tried again only to be scolded with a burst of pain from right behind my eyes. The darkness closed in on me and I blacked out.
There was that cry again. I raised my head to look for the source of the sound. The hospital room I was in was completely destroyed. There was blood everywhere. Blood, and limbs and oh no. Was that a... My thought did not get a chance to complete itself before i doubled over and wretched. Nothing came up but stomach acid. When was the last time i ate? I had arrived at the hospital this morning. The hues of light coming through the window said that it was sunset. Groggy and disoriented I pulled myself up using a nearby bedside table as a brace and tried to have a better look at my surroundings. What had happened here? It looked like WWIII had erupted around me and I didn't know it. Closet doors had been ripped off of their hinges, chairs destroyed and there was blood everywhere. I briefly recalled being shoved very roughly into a corner by a male nurse who was yelling at be to get back. My head slammed into the wall and I must have blacked out. Stumbling towards the door, i heard it again. That wailing was starting to creep me out. Where was that coming from?!? 
Stepping out into the hall I tried to remember what had happened. I had come to the hospital to visit Lana. We'd been talking for around half an hour before the sirens started going off. I went outside I see what was going on and a nurse at the desk told me that they were evacuating the building. Evacuating the building? What? Why did no one come in to tell Lana? She was a patient! Everything happened so fast. Startled people were coming out of rooms and heading in all directions. A staff member stood on a chair and tried to do the whole 'please proceed to the exits in and orderly fashion' thing. It wasn't working. No one listened to him.  Doctors and nurses ran by wheeling high priority patients off to helicopters or who knows where. Everyone was making a mad dash for the exits, but they were closed! Why were they closed? Hospital staff urged people back indoors, away from all points obvious of exit. Why were they doing that? The resulting madness was pure chaos. People going in both directions with terror fueled urgency scrambled all over each other. That's when i heard it for the first time. That horrible, unearthly howling screech that heralded the arrival of the undead. The panic grew tenfold. In the mad scramble to save their lives, no one cared about anyone but themselves. I saw an old man crushed to death by the weight of the crowd trampling him. Enter Mr Nice Guy nurse who grabs me and a couple other people and shoves us into a small room. How I ended up in the closet, I had no idea. I figured the human remains splattered around the room was what was left of what used to be my companions...
I had to get out of here. I ran down the hall and followed an EXIT sign to the stairwell. Pushing open the door, I headed down the stairs. I got one flight down before I remembered why I had come to the hospital in the first place. Lana. She had fallen down a flight of stairs and had torn the tendon in her right foot and broken her ankle. What had happened to her? I couldn't leave without even looking for her. I ran back up the stairs and back down the hall way. Frantically trying to remember which room she was in, I rushed up and down the hallways looking for her. With every doorway i looked into, I was greeted by more destruction. Something told me to stop. I was not well. There was a red spot on my jeans over my left calf that was continuously getting bigger, and my head was threatening another black out. Out of breath and in pain, I leaned against a random door. The reality if my situation hit me. I was alone. In a destroyed hospital, injured, and with no way to fend for myself in case whatever those horrible things were returned. It looked like they were mad people. Mad, severely injured, half rotted people. Zombies? You had to be kidding me. The Zombie Apocalypse was finally here was it?  Hey, at least i was in a hospital right? the best place to be injured. I heard it again. That yell. There was someone else here! There was someone nearby. He/she might have a gun. Something to defend ourselves if those things came back. 
Listening for the yell again, I combed the floor but could find no one. Wherever that person was, it wasn't on this level. Back onto the stairs, I went up a floor. An evacuation plan near the door labels this as Level 3. The Maternity floor. There was a headless corpse lying right in front of the door. It had a metal stick jutting out of it's back. Yanking it out, I kicked the body aside with the toe of my boot and grabbing my makeshift spear in my hands, i continued my search. I didn't get very far before I arrived at the source of the yells I had been hearing. Pressing my ear up against a door, I heard heavy, labored breathing and a small sob. There was someone in there. 
  "Hello? Is there anyone in there" 
  "Please! Someone help me!" replied the voice. It was a woman. I tried the door, but it was locked.
  "I'm going to get something I open the door! I'll be back!" What on earth was I meant to open the door with? I was no lock picker... Noticing a fire extinguisher, I decided that brute force would have to work instead. Dropping my mop, I grabbed the red cylinder and braced myself. I brought it down on the doorknob with all the strength I had and was rewarded for my efforts by a satisfying crack as it knob came free of it's fixture. I pushed against the door, but it didn't budge. I slammed my shoulder into it, but it refused to move. There was something blocking I on the other side. Looking around, I spotted and abandoned hospital bed in the hall. That should do the trick. I put the fire extinguisher down and used the bed as a battering ram. The door gave tiniest bit. There was something behind it. I tried again, and again, and finally, with a very bruised shoulder to show for it, the door opened and I stumbled into the room. 
Bright blue and decorated with little fire trucks and camouflaged army tanks, it was obviously meant to be a boys room. In the center of the room, on a hospital bed lay a very disheveled, very heavily pregnant young woman. She out have been in her early twenties, but pale and almost lifeless, she looked like a ghost. She gasped when she saw me and reached out a shaking hand. Walking over to her side, I looked down at her at her and took it. 
Taken aback by her desperate look, I didn't know what to say. She clung onto my hand fiercely. 
  "My baby. Please, save me baby!"
  "What!? I don't understand..."
She motioned over to a wheeled tray that had various medical instruments splayed across it's top.
  "There should be a scalpel on there. Please.." She gasped "Please, save my baby"
I shook my head, still not understanding. "What do you want me to do?" Judging by her swollen belly, her baby was still in there. 
  "He's stuck" she moaned. "He's stuck and no matter now hard I push he's not coming out." She looked me in the eye with tears streaming down we face. "Take that scalpel over there, and get him out." The implication of what she was asking me to do hit me like a ton of bricks.
  "What!? No! You'll die if I do that. I'm not about to kill you. Come on, push harder. I'm sure you can make it"
  "Look at me! I'm dead as is anyway!"
The sheets and mattress underneath her spread legs had been soaked through with blood and other bodily fluids. It was dripping onto the floor and making and awful mess.
  “I've lost too much blood already. I'm a goner. He's alive. He's still in there! I feel him struggling now and then, but he's stuck. Please..." Her words cut off as she threw back her head and screamed through why I assume was another contraction. Her dying body was desperately trying to save the poor souls stuck inside it. My heart clenched. I have always been a child person. I love working with and being around young ones. My motherly instinct for a child not even my own kicked in. With a grim determination, I walked the two steps over to the gunny and picked up the scalpel. 
  "I'm sorry." I whispered as I held the metal blade over her taut belly. "I really am."
  "Do it! Get him out!"
  Steeling myself, I pressed the blade across her abdomen and made a long and low cut. She jerked in response to the pain and I dropped the scalpel. The baby inside her kicked in response to this intrusion of it's space, I picked up the scalpel, and cut again, this time through the thick, muscly layer of her womb. A mixture of amniotic fluid an blood poured out drenching anything that was previously dry on her mattress. Through a thin, clear membrane, I saw a leg. The poor woman was without a doubt in excruciating pain but she said nothing. She made no sound as I placed my hand into her open womb and closed my fist around the leg of her yet unborn child. The baby kicked at me and I put the scalpel down to be able to use both hands. I got both legs of the baby out into the air put my hands on it's hips and pulled, The rest of it's body came free with a pop as he was officially born,.
  “You have a son." I smiled awkwardly.
  "I know." came the weak reply.
Placing him on his mother's chest, I shook my hands to free some of the blood and fecal matter that this poor baby decided to let go of on his way out. 
  "There you go. One baby boy all yours."
  "Not bad for a first timer." muttered the woman. "Are you sure you aren't a midwife?" 
I wondered at this woman's unexplainable ability to be humorous in the face of her impending death. Nuzzling his slick head she brought her arms up to cradle her baby. 
  "By the way, you're wrong. He's yours." She said.
  "What?" I wasn't sure I had heard her correctly. 
  "You'll take care of him for me won't you?" Holding him up to me, she continued. "You'll take care of my baby?." I took the child from her as her arms began to shake. 
"You cant be serious. You don't even know me. You know nothing about me and you're giving me your baby? I."
"What's your name?" She cut me off.
"Kaylee. Kaylee Lewis."
"Well Kaylee, I know you'll take care of him because you're holding him right." She motioned to the babe I held cradled in my arms, the crook of my elbow underneath his head and the the rest of him close to me.
"That doesn't mean anything! Lots of people know how to hold babies. Doesn't meant that they're going to be good parents!" She closed her eyes. 
  "Hey! Hey what's your name!"
  "Miriam! You can't die. You can't die and leave your child with me. Hold on. I'll find somewhere safe to put the baby, and I'll get a needle and something to stitch you up with and I'll fix you! I'll stitch you up and you'll be fine. You'll get we'll enough to take care of your baby!" The rationally part of my brain told me that this was all for nothing. The woman was dead long before I came in the room. All I'd done was deliver her baby, and now she was giving him to me. 
  "Oh, so you know how to sow as well do you?" Another feeble smile and she began to chuckle. That chuckle turned into a cough, and she started coughing up blood...
  "Well i did take needlework in primary school. And a first aid course. We'll have you fixed in no time." If I couldn't save her, I would humor her.
  "I see it. Call it a mother's instinct if you will. You'll take care of him. You won't let him die. You'll protect him from whatever out there, and when he grows up, you'll tell him about me. Won't you Kaylee? You'll tell my little Lachlan that his mommy loved him very much...." At that her eyes sort of glazed over and her face took on a blank look. 
  "Hey." I shook her. "Hey, wake up!" Her dull, lifeless eyes stated back at me, tears threatening to fall out of their edges.
There was a muffled squeak and I looked down as the bloody bundle in my arms began to squirm. She had named him Lachlan...He gave a choked cry and then began to cry. My heart broke looking at the infant in my arms. I was all he had, an. I wasn't even his mother. I loved children, yes, but I had no idea now to take care of a newborn...I was a 16 year old, all on my own with a newborn baby. A newborn that would need feeding every two hours and changing twice as often. Who's head was so soft that a feather could break it. Who's little extremities could not stand the cold that was the approaching winter...I began to cry. I cried for him, I cried for me, I cried for his poor mother lying there, bled out to death.. My soft sobs joined his harsh, high pitched wailing as we stood there in front if his dead mother. I was soaked in blood. Her's and his. He was covered in that icky white stuff that all newborns are covered in. Some uncalled memory came forth and reminded me that it is supposed to protect his skin in the womb..
The baby stopped crying and looked up at me, milky eyes wide open. He can't see me I thought. He can't see me but he knows I'm there because he can feel me. He whimpered and snuggled in closer to my breast, his tiny mouth opening and closing. That snapped me out of my self pitying musings. He was hungry. Lachlan was hungry. He needed food, and I was the only one who could give it to him. I was on the maternity floor so newborn formula shouldn't be hard to find right? I should... I began to back away from the dead woman but then remembered that Lachlan was still attached to his mother. 
Bending down gingerly, I picked the fallen scalpel up off the floor and using the bed as a cutting board, dragged it across the umbilical cord. I figured I should clip his end off in case he bled out. Walking over to the gunny, I found what I was looking for and clipped his cord off with one hand. Reaching underneath, I pulled out a towel and brushing aside all the equipment, I later it across the top. Spreading it out, I lay him down on the soft towel and looked at him. His pink faced scrunched up and he began to cry again. Turning the tap on in a nearby sink, I rolled him over and began to wipe him. A couple minutes later, when he was relatively clean looking, I picked him up and placed him in the sink. 
One hand supporting his impossibly weak neck and head, I began to wash his little body. He must have liked the feeling of warm water because he stopped crying and let me finish my task. Discarding the now bloody first towel, I wrapped him in a new one and lay him on the gunny. After wiggling a little, his large mournful eyes closed and he appeared to fall asleep. I sighed and took a step back, wiping the years from my face. Okay, so I had just given him a bath. At least I did THAT right. Trying to clear my thoughts, I shook my head. Another jolt of pain. This one not as bad as the last one, but still painful enough to make me gasp. I reached a hand out to steady my head. Okay, so definitely not a good idea. No head shaking.
Something glinted in the fading light. It was a mirror. walking over to where it was on the wall, I looked at myself. My hair was all over the place. Dried blood crusted the right side of my forehead running in a line down to my chin. I had cuts and bruises all over my face and there was an bump the size if an egg on my forehead. For the first time, i felt the glass in my palms. Looking down there were some obvious bits sticking out. My jeans had protected my knees, but the blood stain on my left calf had gotten bigger. My shirt was covered in blood and various other bodily fluids from Lachlan and his young mother. I had to clean myself up.  
  Locating a pair of tweezers from a draw of medical equipment, I say at the edge of the dead woman's feet and began picking glass out if my palms. Win oh with every piece of glee that come out of my skin, I as left a tense mess by the end of it. I looked over my shoulder at the dead woman, her eyes still string vacantly at me. Poor woman. Where was the baby's...where was Lachlan's father? Her family must be worried sick about her. Above her head, her name was written in whiteboard markets on her hospital identification board. Miriam Holdax. Aged 23. Diabetic. Allergic to amoxicillin... I reached over and closed her eyelids. It felt awkward. I felt as though I should say a prayer or her or something. But what would I say? I wasn't a very religious person. She came here expecting to have her baby and go home. I pictured her walking in, with some unknown male at her side, registering herself at the front desk, maternity bag bouncing in her hip as she walked... Maternity bag! Where was it?! She MUST have had one. 
I jumped off the bed and was reminded by my head that I needed to take things slowly. I pulled aside a curtain room divider, and there it was. Sitting on a plush sofa in all it's glory: Miriam Holdax's maternity bag. I opens it to find a precious few items. Some newborn nappies: definitely needed those. Two newborn baby outfits, a dummy, an empty baby bottle, and a change of clothes. Miriam had packed a pair of shorts with underwear and a t-shirt and bra for herself. Right next to the bag, unopened, was a forward facing baby carrier. She clearly hadn't planned on being here long. I was sore all over and in need of a shower. Who knew being in a closet for the better part of the day could make someone so dirty. Picking up a nappy and the baby clothes, i made my way over to Lachlan lying on his makeshift bed and began to dress him. As expected, the baby began to cry furiously at being awakened and only stopped when I went back for his dummy and placed it in his mouth. Sure he wouldn't roll over and to his death, i picked up Miriam's change of clothes and had a shower in her maternity room en suite.
Freshly clean, i unpacked the the baby carrier, and after strapping it to me. I picked up the maternity bag and placed everything back in. There were four nappies left. Four. That wouldn't last a single day. I had to leave. The lack of formula said that Miriam had planned on breastfeeding her child. Her heavy, milk filled breasts lay flat against her stiffening body and I certainly didn't have any. I had to go look for some. I placed the now dressed Lachlan Holdax in and rested his once again sleeping head against my chest.
  "Goodbye Miriam. I'll look after him the best I can. I promise." With that, I left the gruesome scene and stepped out into the hallway.

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