Free Pandora: A Novel of the Zombie Apocalypse by Richard McCrohan Page A

know,” she agreed. “Several of us have fled and made it to a passageway used by maintenance. It leads out to a door by the right side of the emergency-room receiving area. There’s a tree near there and a pipe that runs up the wall at the side of the door. Mike, can you get here and pick us up?”
    “Of course I can,” he said. “Let me throw my clothes on, and I’ll be there in twenty minutes or so.”
    “Great, Mike.” She exhaled in relief. “When you get here, pull up the ramp and to the right. When you see the door, blow the horn, and we’ll come running out.”
    “Okay, babe, see you soon,” he said. He hung up and quickly dressed. He opened his bedroom door and quietly walked down the stairs and out the front door. After starting his car, he pulled out of the driveway and made his way to the hospital.
    The trip there was frightening. Although all the streetlights were still on, the nighttime darkness was unnerving. Mike noticed a number of zombies roaming the streets—not a great horde but enough to worry him. Fortunately he was able to drive by them and kept the gas pedal pushed hard so he wouldn’t wind up leading a zombie parade. There were a few fires too, but only one had a fire company fighting it. The firefighters were protected by armed soldiers who were firing at any zombies that got close. A few miles down, he passed a late-model car that had rammed into a tree. Steam was rising from the broken radiator. Mike slowed down then stopped. Both the front doors were wide open, and there was blood smeared on the upholstery. A rustling came from the bushes nearby, and a number of zombies lumbered out. All had bloody hands and faces, and several seemed to be carrying body parts. They were heading for him. Mike sped away.
    Finally Mike arrived at the hospital. He pulled up to the entrance ramp and stopped. The normally busy emergency room was deserted. Asign that stated emergency room closed lay on its side at the edge of the ramp. A single bloody handprint dripped over the two
O
s. Mike switched off the SUV’s headlights and slowly made his way up the ramp. He stopped again when he reached the entranceway to the brightly lit waiting room. Several figures were standing inside. Idling where he was, far from the doors, all he could discern was that they all seemed to be blood smeared. Mike also saw that one of them was wearing a police uniform.
    Slowly continuing to roll down the pavement, as far from the doors as he could get so he wouldn’t draw any attention to himself, he reached the far right side of the building. It was dark and unlit in this part of the lot, but he did notice a door farther down. It had a single bulb over it and a pipe running up the wall, near a tree. Aiming for this, he slowly rolled toward this target. His headlights were still off.
    After pulling parallel to the door, he stopped and then, in three short bursts, sounded the horn. Two seconds later the metal door opened about a foot, and Susan Tolliver’s head peeked out. Seeing Mike’s GMC Yukon parked outside, she pushed open the door, and she and several others ran out. As they quickly piled into the vehicle, a young male nurse, the last to exit, paused briefly under the door’s light.
    Suddenly he was attacked by two zombies who appeared out of the blackness. Everyone was yelling and screaming at the same time. The rear door was still open as a nurse turned and yelled, “Brandon!”
    Mike shouted, “Close the goddamn door!” and flipped on the headlights. As the lights illuminated the formerly pitch-black area, everyone saw that there were a half dozen walking corpses in front of them. Mike was about to shift into drive when his muscles turned to water. There, directly in front of the Yukon’s grille, stood Brian Dunn. Brian’s white button-down shirt was hanging open, and both it and his pallid body were smeared with blood that started at his chin. Dark veins were evident on his gray skin. Mike sat there, his mouth