Small World: Chapter 10

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Thrillers  |  House: Booksie Classic
This chapter features Sara.

Submitted: February 12, 2015

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Submitted: February 12, 2015



Sara: Domino Effect

I do everything in my power to stop myself from crying. I need Marcus to be strong, so I need to be strong!

Marcus quietly lays face down on the examination table. He is completely drenched in sweat and the smell of his vomit on the floor makes me nauseous.

I can only imagine how he feels right now…

The doctors were able to remove his leg and stop the bleeding. I guess we just have to wait and see if they did it in time before it spread any further.

The stump of what’s left of his leg has been bandaged, and he has been pumped full of morphine. He is mumbling incoherently to himself, and I choose to try and ignore it. I think he’s trying to say something to me, but I’m not sure.


We hear gunshots followed by screams outside the door. That same eerie shrieking sound that James made when he charged at me is now echoing through the hospital hallways.

Immediately Marcus lifts his head at the sound of the gunshots and looks towards the door. He looks to be in a daze as he attempts to sit up when the doctors tell him not to move.

He ignores them and pushes them off of him.

“Get the fuck off me! What was that? We need to get out of here now!” Marcus attempts to bark, but it comes out more like an incoherent whisper.

I look at him and sternly tell him to stay put and that I would go check it out.

He objects, but I go anyways. I can hear him screaming something at me as I open the door and exit the room.

I can’t quite make out what he said.

I pull out my gun, take the safety off, and quickly survey the scene. I slowly walk down the hall towards the front desk when I hear a man yell. He comes running down the stairs towards me and behind him I can see a nurse covered in blood making that eardrum popping, shrill screech.

“Get down!” I yell at him.

He continues sprinting towards me, and when he gets about five feet away from me he slides down onto his knees, and without any hesitation I pull the trigger.


The nurse’s head jerks back and she falls into a heap on the floor. Pieces of her brain splatter against the wall and stick to it like clumps of cooked spaghetti.

He looks at the nurse alarmingly, then back to me and says: “Oh my god, you killed her! What the fuck is going on in here?”

“I don’t know, but we need to get everyone the fuck out of here now,” I reply.

I can see that the man is wearing a hospital gown and no shoes or socks.

“Did she bite you?” I ask him.


“I said did she fucking bite you!” I shout at him.

I grab his arm and check it for bites, then his other arm. He jumps back in alarm and pulls away.

“No, she didn’t bite me, what the fuck kind of question is that?”

“Forget it, consider yourself lucky,” I reply.

I tell him to go and get some clothes on and some shoes and he tells me that he just came from his room and that there was no way he was going back up there.

“I was walking down the stairs and heard more gunshots. I yelled because I was scared and turned around to go back to my room and then this crazy bitch came running at me down the stairs screaming like a fucking banshee so I ran away from her!”

“Wait, you heard more gunshots? Where the fuck were you an hour ago? We evacuated everyone from the building, you shouldn’t even be here!”

He looks at me sheepishly and is seemingly embarrassed to reply.

“I was in the washroom...”

“We went in to every room and washroom and yelled for everyone to file downstairs, what the fuck were you doing in there?” I ask.

“Ok, I have Irritable Bowel Syndrome, fuck! I didn’t want to fucking shit myself in front of everyone, so I stayed on the toilet where I was safe.”

I look at him, clearly irritated, and say, “Ok, whatever, let’s go.”

“I think the gunshots came from down here,” he says as he points past the front desk.

I look at him, and then look back towards the front desk and start walking in that direction.

“Be careful!” he yells.

I walk around the nurse’s corpse and try not to look at it. I’ve never shot anyone before.

“She was a sick…and dangerous”, I tell myself, as I shake my head to try and rid myself of the guilt that I feel.

I continue on down the hall, constantly checking the rooms to my sides as I pass them.

As I get closer to the front desk I hear the entrance doors opening and closing, opening and closing.

I walk over to the front door to see a dead police officer lying in a pool of blood in between the automatic doors. His face has been ripped to shreds. You can see the bones and muscles in his face poking through what’s left of the skin.

The man behind me screams and jumps back in horror when he sees this.


The man runs over to the officer, crouches down, and turns his head the other direction as he takes his shoes and socks off. He then takes off the officer’s pants and coat and grabs the gun out of his hand.

“What the fuck are you doing?” I ask him as I point my gun at him.

He’s trembling and shaking and he looks at me and says, “Hey, I’m not going back up there, we need to leave now, or we’re going to end up like this guy.”

He then looks down at the gun in his hand, “I need to be able to protect myself,” he says.

I look at him and shake my head in disapproval, but there’s not much I can say after looking at the officer.

I’m speechless.

He puts the clothes on, thanks me, and takes off out the door and into the mist.

I can see that the storm has picked up significantly. It’s a complete whiteout and I can hear the wind howling up against the building. I don’t know what’s safer, being in here, or being out there.

I hear yelling and a struggle coming from behind me. Instinctually, I turn around and raise my gun. The yelling and struggle continues and I hear agonizing screams. I slowly continue to walk down the hall, continually looking over my shoulder. I can feel the beads of sweat dripping down my forehead, and my cold, clammy hands are almost numb from holding my gun so tight. As I move further down the hall it becomes clear to me that the commotion is coming from Marcus’ room. I can’t help but fear the worst.

My bottom lip begins to quiver with concern for my partner.

With my gun raised I carefully open the door to the room to see Marcus sitting on the floor with his back to me. I look to my left and see the doctor who performed the surgery sitting in the corner holding his bloody nose, soundlessly shaking.

“Marcus?” I whisper quietly, almost inaudibly.

I am so scared of what I’m about to see that I can’t speak, I can barely breathe.

“Marcus!” I manage to yell to him.

At the sound of my voice Marcus slowly turns his head towards me and looks at me with tired, glazed over eyes. He makes a low growling noise and rolls over onto his stomach. I run over to him and grab him and help him up and can see that the other doctor is laying on the floor unconscious.

He is up on his one leg and has his arm around me for support.

“What did you do to them?” I ask in a shaky voice.

Marcus’s morphine is beginning to wear off, and he can now speak more clearly as he says: “I could hear the commotion and needed to make sure you were okay. They wouldn’t let me go and tried to give me another shot of morphine, so I did what I had to do to free myself. I may have one leg, but I’m still me! Not to be fucked with.”

I crack a smile and can’t help but laugh as tears roll down my face.

“We need to get out of here,” I say.

“I know, call a car to come pick up the doctors,” he replies.

He points at the unconscious doctor, “that one wouldn’t go down without a fight, I had to choke him out,” he says.

Marcus looks over at the doctor in the corner.

“You okay Doc?” he asks genuinely.

The doctor hesitantly shakes his head yes.

“Good,” Marcus says.

I help Marcus to the entrance door and he sees the dead officer stripped of his pants, shoes, and socks blocking the entrance and shakes his head in shock and anger.

“We need to figure out what the fuck is going on here, I want to talk to that coroner ASAP,” he says.

I shake my head yes in agreement and try not to let him see how scared shitless I am.

He smiles at me, and then turns his head forward and looks through the window to the weather outside.

“Holy fuck! Looks like Christmas is coming this year after all,” he says jokingly to break the tension.

“Hey, you’re alive, take that as your present!” I snidely respond.

He looks down at where his leg used to be, then back up to me and forces a half-smile.

I smile back at him and we carefully step over the dead police officer through the hospital doors and vanish outside into the storm…

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