Code Red

My eyes tear open and my ears ring. I try to get up but my neck strains at the force of gravity, and I can feel a pulsing within the back of my head. My hand touches the back of my head and returns stained with my own blood. I sit up and press my aching back against the wall of the bright white hallway, my scrubs are torn and dotted with even more blood. I reach in my purse for my phone only to find shattered metal and glass. The linoleum tile is covered in a mixture of blood and dust, which contrasted with the usual sterility of the hospital. My gaze wanders down to my badge, ‘Bianca Jennings, Registered Nurse’. 

I pull myself back on my feet, dragging my weak limbs down the vacant hall towards the nurses station, I leaned on the counter staring at the computer where employees sign in. In an attempt to make sense of the swirling letters in front of me, I stared at the screen searching for my name. The absence of my name reflected my frequent tardiness, I must not have signed into work this morning. I notice static noises emerging from the intercom. As my fingers hit the button a loud beep leaves me reeling.

 “Code Red, all patients on floors one and two will evacuate” 

The message continues to play over the speaker and a form of terror and adrenaline floods my system. My entire body begins to sway as the world appeared to spin around me as I rush toward the main entrance. I pushed on the doors with all the energy I had before noticing the storm shutters visible through the windows. Why on earth would we evacuate during a storm? Something is incredibly wrong and I need to get on the third floor to figure out what that is. 

I passed through the waiting room, which was littered with peoples bags and various belongings. Scattered valuables lay abandoned on the floor, sending chills down my spine. I make my way into the elevator and press the up button furiously. My anxiety only grew as I realized the power to the elevator was cut off. Despite my struggle to make it up the steps I maneuvered my legs to go to the second floor. I crept my way through another hollow hall, my skull pierced by the pain from the bright fluorescent lighting. The whirring of the MRI and CAT scan machines disorients me as I continue my journey, stumbling the entire time. Miraculously I found myself climbing the next staircase. Following a moment of hesitation, I swipe my badge, unlocking the door that leads to the source of the mystery. 

My heart palpitated within my chest as my breath got shorter and shorter over time. A light noise drew me into one of the hospital rooms, as I turned the corner a sigh of relief left me as I realized the noise was the dialogue of an old movie, Finding Nemo. The short term memory loss of Dory was all too relatable to me today. Almost as soon as my fingers brushed the button of the television power off I heard faint footsteps. I am not alone.

My tired feet stumble from the room, motivated only by the desire for answers. What greeted me was only vaguely human. At the opposite end of the hall was a small figure, her eyes were bloodshot and pooling with blood that overflowed to form red streams down her cheeks. She appeared pale, and the veins around her throat and chest pulsed and were swollen. She was struggling to breathe and taking in my presence just as I was her. This illness is foreign to me. My legs began to tremble as I began to run back towards the stairwell. The stairway led to safety but the corridor could lead to answers, I abandon security in favor of certainty, I have to know what is going on.

As I turn the struggling figure desperately drags her body slowly in my direction. The hospital directors office comes into view and I pull my ragged limbs through the door only to be greeted with a war zone. A young man in the same clothes as me lay dead in a chair in front of a mahogany desk, with a stab wound in his neck. Two more bodies lay behind the desk, one was the hospital director and the other was a scraggly man in a hoodie and jeans. Despite their differences both had pale faces and blue lips, with blood pooling from the heads and eyes while swollen veins dripped blood. The man in the hoodie had a knife within is stomach causing the tile below him which used to be white to be a dark red.

I stumble backwards, my breathing more ragged and my heart racing at the speed of a caffeinated racehorse. A glance in the direction of the ill wanderer gave me all the information my brain needed to continue running. Another static noise reaches my ears and I pull further away from the staircase and into the break room, closing the door and locking it behind me. My weary body pulls me into the comfort of the leather chair in front of the television emitting static. I slump into the seat and a weak voice calls to me through the window on the door.

“Please...I do not want to die alone”

I ignore her desperate pleas. There is still hope for me, but what I have seen indicates she has a different, darker destiny. Even my stoic self cannot stop the tears from falling down my own eyes. I notice a remote on the floor. My withered muscles tremble as I lean down to retrieve answers. The channel changes from grey and white speckled to a woman in a red dress speaking so quickly I can hardly process it.

“Shocking news continues to haunt our city with the emergency shutdown of Houston Memorial Hospital this morning following a bioterrorist attack. Reports from the director of the hospital indicate a virus originating in Southeast Asia was used to kill two patients after the person carrying the illness intentionally used his own blood to  infect people on his floor. When a doctor discovered and reported the incident uninfected individuals were evacuated and authorities were called. The terrorist then entered the room with a knife, presumably with violent intentions. The director than managed to wrestle the weapon from the terrorist and turned it on the terrorist, a noble act which halted further spread of the virus. He was on the phone with authorities until his dying breath…” 

My entire body was now trembling. I could not fathom the existence of such an evil. The reality of the situation brought my curiosity to a grinding halt. Truth is no longer liberation. Faint images of herds of patients flow through my mind. I see myself crash into a wall before drowning in a sea of people. I remember. The TV snatches my attention once again. 

“I stand here outside Houston Memorial Hospital where surviving medical professionals check patients for signs of the virus. When it is caught before symptoms, treatment is possible. So far there have been ten fatalities all of which inside the building. Although digital records have assisted authorities in identifying the sick left within the third floor, authorities are looking to gain CCTV footage from inside the hospital..”

I know what to do, stay here and wait for rescue. My fingers pressed the button on the remote to end the reporters incessant speaking. When the television shut off I am faced with myself. My reflection in the empty screen. Macabre imagery of myself, with the same bloody eyes and veiny throats of the corpses down the hall. I rise from my seat, a calm washing over my brain despite the panic of my physical body. My hand lays over the door handle, my eyes making contact with the person who was following me before. 

“Your right, we don’t have to die alone.”