infection | D. Dixon

chapter one

friendship

The day the world ended, I didn't feel a sense of impending doom. All I felt was that I was late for work.

In the hospital there is one rule. One hour can save a life, one second can end it. Sixty minutes can determine if you are going to live, or if you are going to die. When I went to work this morning, I thought that within sixty minutes after I had arrived, I would have begun working on patients to save their lives.

I would have never guessed my life would need saving.

With a coffee in hand, I began my daily rounds, making sure all my post-operative patients had the care they needed. Everything seemed normal— until it didn't.

A large hand gripped my shoulder with great force, spinning me around to face my assailant. He had a rugged face, deep brown eyes, and a thick black beard. It was the face of my father.

He was panting, and he was covered in blood. "Dad?!" I asked, checking him over for a source of bleeding.

"It's not me!" He yelled, dragging me down the hallway by the top of my arm. "It's some kid! A teen I think. He was in the middle of the road when some lunatic attacked him!" he said, sounding out of breath as he led me down the hall. His fingers pinched my arms under my white coat.

My co-workers stared at my father as if he had lost his head, and some even grabbed some medical supplies and followed us down the hall to the main entrance of the hospital.

The boy laid in the back of my father's jeep, coughing and holding the side of his arm close to his shoulder. He had another wound on his abdomen, which was dripping blood down the side of my father's jeep.

I ignored my first thought, which was to jump in and help him, and turned to my father. "What happened? Did he have a gun?" I asked, taking the lap pads as they were handed to me. I climbed in before my father could answer and ripped open his shirt to expose the wounds. I looked up at my father in disbelief, "This is a bite mark!" I exclaimed, holding pressure on the bleeding.

My father scratched the back of his head as another doctor, my best friend, put the kid in a neck brace. I took a sharp breath.

"Start an IV drip and heavy antibiotics, we don't know what this guy was on. I'm going to need a hand here!" I yelled, taping the bandage onto the man's torso. Another doctor climbed into the jeep.

From the corner of my eye, I could see another man approaching the scene. He was walking slow, but he was heading right for us. I waved over to him. "Can you run inside and tell the nurse to page the operating room?" I yelled, beginning compressions while the fellow doctor I was working with intubated him.

The man in the corner of my eye didn't change directions, but he was getting closer to us. Now I could see that the man was limping, and one of his arms was curled into his chest.

I looked down at the other doctor, the only one that wasn't helping to work on the injured man. "Go!" I yelled, seeing as though the other man was not going to follow my instructions.

My dad was holding his head between both of his hands, pacing the parking lot. "You should have seen the guy who attacked him! He was missing part of his cheek! We tried to help the guy, but he started acting like a cannibal!"

I looked at my father while I pushed on the injured man's abdomen. "Do you know him?" I asked, pausing to check for a pulse.

My dad shook his head. I looked up at the other doctor, who shook his head.

"Time of death, seven forty-eight," I called, climbing out of the jeep. I was covered in blood.

The man who had been walking towards us had now become clear as he reached the jeep. He grabbed my father and began trying to take a bite out of his arm.

My father pushed him off, and the man fell to the pavement. He slowly began to get to his feet, when I noticed something strange.

There was a knife in his back. There was no way he survived a wound like that. I furrowed my eyebrows and stepped around the man, who continued to walk towards the other doctors.

My father was still pacing as he looked at the man. He frowned. "Are you alright, sir?" he asked.

The man grabbed my best friend by the arm and gasped for air. He sunk his teeth into the crook of her neck.

My father pulled the man off her, screaming at the man. I rushed to my friend, assessing her wound.

Another doctor walked up to us, and as I tried to dress her wounds, the doctor bit her on the shoulder.

I screamed, my hands covering my mouth.

My father grabbed me by the elbow and dragged me into the front seat of the jeep. More of those people began spilling out of the hospital.

My father sped the jeep out of the parking lot and onto the street. "What are you doing? We have to stay and help!" I yelled, looking in the mirror to see that there were now hundreds of them staggering around in the parking lot, but a large amount was gathered around where my best friend was attacked.

I sighed, pressing my hands against my forehead. I looked at my hands. They were covered in blood.

There was a groan from the back seat, and a hand grabbed my shoulder. I turned to see the man my father had brought into the parking lot was now sitting up, grabbing at me.

He had gray skin, evidence that he was dead, and glossy eyes. His grip on my shoulder was strong. I screamed.

My father served the jeep as he tried to pry the man off my shoulder. The man's snapping jaws got closer and closer to my arm.

The jeep was finally off the road, and my father turned fully in his seat. He held a pocket knife to the man. "Get off my daughter or so help me god!" he threatened, but the man didn't stop.

Having no other choice, my father stabbed the man in the chest. The man didn't flinch.

I screamed again as the man growled in my ear while trying to take a bite out of me.

I reached up and grabbed the handle of the knife and pulled it out of the man's chest.

My father took the knife and stabbed the man again, this time in the head. The man collapsed in the back seat.

I thanked my father as he pulled the jeep back onto the road and towards our house, where my younger sister, Tessa, was getting home from class.

I sank further into the seat, exhausted. Hot tears fell down my face. I wanted to go home after the worst hour of my life, but I didn't know what waited for me there.