Free Contagious by Emily Goodwin Page B

“I guess.” I dropped my torn and bloody clothes on the ground. “Am I good to go, doctor?”
    His blue eyes only looked at my chest for a second. “It’s as good as I can get it with what I have. I’d like you to take antibiotics to prevent an infection.”
    “ Well we don’t have any,” I spat, inhaling deeply. I hoped he understood that my anger was directed at the annoying lack of supplies and not him. He didn’t look away from my eyes. Granted, I was wearing a plain, pink bra, not sexy in the least with no frills or lace. It irritated me that he didn’t stare at my boobs like a normal guy. Did he not find me attractive? I turned in the mirror and discovered the back of the bra was covered in blood. My skin had been perfectly cleaned though. “Thanks,” I added. “I guess having a doctor around during a zombie apocalypse is a good thing.”
    “ As is having a girl who can kick some ass,” he added.
    “ It is,” I agreed with a friendly smile and opened the door. In the privacy of my room, I let myself wince at the pain. I held up a hand mirror to inspect the reflection in my big mirror. The knife had cut me to the left of my spine. The blade hadn’t cut too deep, thank God; instead it dragged a three inch, nasty line across my shoulder blade. My skin prickled and tugged with every movement. Carefully, I stuck the bandage back to my skin and went to the closet.
    It was agonizing to unhook my bra. It hurt so bad to reach behind that I considered not putting another one on in its place. The only front clasping bra I owned was my go to ‘going out’ bra, since it was everything the modest pink bra wasn’t; it was deep purple, lacey and a ridiculous push up. Might as well look good if I die, right? It hurt like hell to pull the cream colored camisole over my head and even worse to reach my left arm back to put it in the sleeve of a red, plaid shirt. I buttoned it halfway. My jewelry box contained mostly cheap, costume jewelry, good for the bar scene but nowhere classier.
    I owned one real silver pendant. When the price of silver skyrocketed two years ago, I sold every piece of it I had to pay for school, except this. I draped the thin chain around my neck, biting my lip at the pain it caused my injured back and buckled the clasp. I turned it around so the little silver leaf rested under my collar bone. Once belonging to my grandmother, this necklace brought back memories. Memories were nice and all, but did nothing for survival. I dropped the lid on my jewelry box and went to join the others.
    “ Here,” Padraic said, extending his hand. “This will help.”
    “ Why are you always so eager to drug me?” I asked, taking the pills anyway.
    “ You said that before. But I didn’t drug you.”
    “ Yes you did. Before everything happened. You gave me pills and everything went fuzzy.”
    Padraic shook his head. “I gave you Tylenol.”
    “ It had to be stronger than that.”
    “ No. You passed out from the gas.”
    “ Gas?” I sat cross legged on the floor, once again sorting through our meager stash of supplies.
    “ They came through, the police or soldiers maybe. They were in all black…I couldn’t tell.” He shook his head. “Crowd control,” he suggested with a frown.
    “ Oh.” I thought back. Screams followed by gun shots. And then the smoke alarms going off. Obviously, the hospital hadn’t burned down. “Why would they gas the place?”
    “ I don’t know,” he said absently.
    Jason and Sonja sat next to me. “What’s the plan?” Jason asked.
    “ We leave,” I said shortly. “As soon as the sun is up.”
    “ And then what?” Sonja inquired.
    “ We hope to find others and a place to stay and wait this out.” Even if that were possible, I mused, what would it be like? Would we have anything to live for? Half the world was dead.
    It was twelve thirty-three. The battery powered alarm clock told me so when I pressed the button to illuminate the screen. I sat at the table next