Sacred Heart ~ and Other Stories From The Zombie Apocalypse

Sacred Heart

8774 Michigan apt 205. Extract if necessary. Midwife on premises needs backup with a breech.

Avro read the note in a glance, then jammed it into his pocket and headed for the door.

"We've got a live one!" Avro called as he crossed the inner lot, heading to where his ambulance stood alone, a white beacon in the dusk. Her sides had been reinforced and her front modified to act like an old fashioned cow catcher. She was a funny looking rig, but did the job. Her sides were marked with the typical red cross, but Avro had painted pale blue, angel wings right behind the front doors. Sacred Heart had three such rigs, though one was perpetually down for repairs. The other team was already out, so there was no danger of anyone poaching this rescue.

"What have we got?" Corrine kicked the ambulance's back door open and stuck her head out, her black braid falling over her shoulder.

Avro winced, "Stop kicking my rig, woman."

Corrine swore at him in Spanish and flipped him off, though he knew there wasn't malice behind it. She communicated almost entirely through cussing and at this point, it was a wonder there were still people who didn't. She finished her tirade with: "Well? What the hell we got?"

"Birth going bad. Midwife sent out an S.O.S."

Corrine jumped down from the back and snorted. "Fucking hell. I'll never understand why anyone brings a kid into this." She gestured around at the parking lot, caged in by tall fences.

"Because the human race is gonna human race." The final member of their team, Allen, appeared from around the front of the ambulance. He snapped the folding chair he'd been lounging in shut. He was the oldest of the three, but Avro had never seen that slow the man down.

Corrine made a "tch-ing" noise and jogged for the small, pole shed that had been constructed after the Fall for use by the ambulance and her crew. Avro could still remember back in the day when ambulances would dispatch from somewhere separate from the hospital they reported to. These days the rule was: once you get safe, you stay put.

"What territory?" Allen asked, before he turned and unceremoniously frizbeed his folding chair towards the shed.

Avro took out his paper again and grimaced. "Michigan Street. That's Lovelace."

"Well that'll be fun." Allen winced sympathetically through his impressive mustache. Avro often wondered how the man's husband could stand kissing those bristly lips, but he kept that to himself.

"Mother fucking Lovelace?!" Corrine's voice carried across the whole inner lot.

"Afraid so." Avro called back as casually as if she had spoken normally.

Corrine came back swearing under her breath in Spanish again. She pitched a stiff pack of leather, wrapped up in a skillfully knotted cable, at Avro's chest. He caught it deftly and hooked a finger under the knot, giving a sharp shake to let the armor fall loose. Hardened leather was the best for ease of movement at the price. Maybe bigger hospitals could afford more, but Avro just counted himself lucky that he wasn't wearing carpet like he'd seen some guys get stuck with. He pulled each piece expertly into place, down to a gorget, which he left hanging open at his throat.

"All clasps clasped." Allen scolded.

"Right, mom." Avro sighed, closing the gorget.

"You too missy." Allen eyed Corrine as she passed, her braid swinging behind her all the way to her butt.

"Yeah yeah." Her tone was dismissive, but her smile was fond. She buckled the gorget and pulled her braid up, tying it away in a bun in three, expert motions. "Let's go. It's not getting any lighter and I heard they just rolled back the power shutoff times again."