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THE INFIRMARY

  By

  Bridget Squires

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  PUBLISHED BY:

  The Infirmary

  Copyright © 2012 by Bridget Squires

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  This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author’s imagination and used fictitiously.

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  The Infirmary

  A cool breeze crawled down the empty corridor, causing the cobweb covered light bulbs to sway. Eerie shadows danced in the little light that the broken windows allowed to leak inside the building. As Sarah made her way to the infirmary she felt fear and hope intertwine as one emotion, a nervous freedom swelled within her. She couldn’t recall actually being loose in the hospital, the corridors seemed so vacant and the silence was bitter. Sarah had a destination; she only hoped she had the courage to make it there.

  It was summer; Sarah could feel the warmth and taste the sting of freshly cut grass. Salty sweat gathered along her brow, upper lip and her face felt flushed. Temptation to peek through a broken pane and see the sun for the first time in what seemed to be ages overwhelmed her fragile form but Sarah knew if she looked she'd loose her last ounce of sanity which she was so desperately clinging to. Even now she knew her mind teetered precariously on the brink of a full fledged mental breakdown at the mere thought of seeing real sunlight, slide grass through her hands, smell a flower, all for the first time in years. No. Sarah knew she had to keep it together. Sometimes all a person has left is their sanity, a retreat of the mind; Sarah remembered a fellow patient reciting long ago and she lived by it daily.

  She continued down the hall, noticing the little things slowly. A few crooked photo frames, spidered glass leaving a creepy 3D image in the faded pictures, hung off the stained walls. Some doors in the hall were ajar, the former residents long gone, leaving only minor possessions to show anyone ever stayed there at all. A rust stained teddy bear peeked out of the nearest room, its glossy eyes shining where a strip of sunshine hit them. A cane, snapped and rotten, a shoe without strings, a clump of what appeared to be hair, a wheelchair, bent and broken, all crowded the hallway, left behind in the initial evacuation which she still could remember well.

  Sarah shivered with discomfort, goosebumps snaking over her exposed skin. The dingy gown Sarah wore did little to cover her up, the ties in the back so loosely attached that her buttocks were constantly uncovered. Safety lay a few twisting twilight tinged hallways away, at least those were the rumors that were whispered in the darkest of hours. Now Sarah found herself closer to the happy ending she often envisioned. All she had to do was get there without being captured. Sarah noticed her bare feet left prints in the thick dust on the floor. It rose and swam into the air as she disturbed it while she navigated the path few had dared go. There was no immediate fear of discovery though which was comforting.

  No one had noticed her escape, the cell would not be checked for at least an hour in theory, she would be free if she made it to the infirmary. There was safety there. The infirmary was like Neverland from stories she heard as long as she could recall, a sacred place where safety was guaranteed, no doctors, needles or experiments. At night stories regarding the infirmary were distractions that kept the pain at bay and the darkness from taking her mind entirely. During the day it was a daydream that she lost herself in during the research, her happy place. Sarah promised herself she'd make it to the infirmary or die trying.

  Several steps later Sarah passed a door where one of the horrible jackets hung and anxiety rose on her chest. Images bombarded her mind, tortuous nights and scarring days wearing something similar to that damned thing, the hopelessness and misery. It was her punishment, for not cooperating. A flood of tears fell from her eyes, mixing with the dirt caked onto her face, making a muddy, slimy substance that refused to be wiped away. Dashing blindly, Sarah found herself digging absently at the track marks that lined her arms, thick blood rising to the surface.

  Sarah was panicking, her obsessive compulsive disorder of self mutilation taking over. Her skin became raw and rolled back as her nails dug into the already damaged flesh. Wrong turn after wrong turn it became apparent to Sarah she was lost. The halls went on and on, turning occasionally but still the same endless passage. Collapsing to the floor in defeat Sarah sat a long time, crying, releasing years of abuse in a single moment of disparity. This she allowed herself, it was something she never let them see, never gave them the satisfaction of her tears. Now though was her opportunity and she cried as blood soaked her gown.

  As time passed the sun rose in the crimson sky, its rays slipping through the higher windows which signaled that the room checks would be conducted soon. They'd know she was missing, they'd know she was too weak to go far, they'd find her and the infirmary would remain the destination she'd never reach. The tracks in the dust would be simple to find, simple to track. If she didn’t make it to the infirmary she knew she’d be in the jacket for days, maybe weeks for her disobedience. Desperately she looked for a sign of where she was, a landmark that would guide her. A glimmer of final sunshine off metal caught Sarah's eye.

  Crawling cautiously toward it, aching for a promise of refuge, she found herself holding her breath. Sarah brushed the years of filth away and read the words over and over. "Infirmary" was all it said but it was exactly what she needed to bring a renewed vigor toward escape. She was close, the sign meant she was in the right vicinity. The worn out, dented raised metal arrow pointed out her final sprint to everlasting freedom. At the end of this corridor was a door, barricaded with a piece of heavy wood, aged but sturdy. She smiled widely, surprising even herself that she still had the emotion of happiness.

  The word ABANDONED was haphardzardly spray painted across the splintering surface but Sarah hardly noticed. Instead she dug frantically, prying the board from its sealing screws, tearing at it with the last bit of energy she had. The wood had corroded with age, tender yet still somewhat tough. Its pieces sliced into her skin, her nails, broken and bent bled as splinters wedged into her flesh. Finally the board came loose and fell to the concrete beneath her feet and she used both hands to fling the infirmary doors wide open.

  It was the smell that hit her first, a sour scent of decay followed by the aroma of stale urine and fecal matter. Behind those smells lay another, a coppery whisper of dried blood; one Sarah was all too familiar with. What she noticed secondly was the crowd, and as soon as the faces turned in her direction, she gagged deeply and dry heaved before finally vomiting onto the already repulsive floor. There was a makeshift hole from the upper floor in the ceiling of this room, crows sat perched upon the jagged edges staring down at the crowd hungrily. This was no Neverland, this was hell, there was no other word Sarah could think of.

  There were no smiling faces, no arms outstretched in welcoming, no comfort. Instead Sarah found herself face to face with the corpses of the living dead, some of which she was horrified to realize she recognized. They were like the man that haunted her dreams only these creatures were familiar. A female, jaw hanging by a few greasy tendons, cocked its head to attention at the glimpse of fresh meat. Slowly the female pulled its leg less body with bone exposed hands in Sarah's direction, intestines dragging across the floor leaving a slug like trail.

  A male, naked decomposing body with its embalming Y incision clearly
visible, noticed her as well. He released a low, scratchy moan which scattered maggots and roaches from his mouth onto the floor. Sarah found herself gagging uncontrollably again. The zombies looked crippled and Sarah assumed her torturers were simply pushing them from the upper floor down here, the fall damaging their frail bodies. A majority of the corpses were falling apart, organs laying uselessly on the floor, and flaps of skin curling and drying in the heat like some strange beef jerky recipe. They didn’t belong here; they belonged outside the hospital walls roaming the streets. They moved very slow thankfully.

  The room was packed shoulder to shoulder with the corpses that Sarah knew wanted nothing more than to dine on her succulent skin and tender organs. These were the remnants of a time long ago, when patient zero began the apocalypse that ruined society as a whole. It had seemed to occur overnight, yet she hadn’t seen these monsters since she came into the hospital. Why they were packed like tuna in the infirmary was a question Sarah found herself both wanting and not wanting an answer to.

  Worse yet Taylor was there, in