The Worst Possible Scenario

The Worst Possible Scenario
Written by J. Marie Ravenshaw

Laughing, Corrine opened the door to leave the break-room, and glanced over her shoulder to address her fellow nurses, “Alright, I’m gonna go check on Mr. Rodriguez. I’m damn lucky I even got a five minute break today.”

Her patient, Hernando Rodriguez, just had a major abdominal surgery and was having a hard time recovering from the anesthesia. They already used Narcan on him, hoping that it would help clear the effects of the drugs they used for anesthesia. Unfortunately, it didn’t work.

She’d been dealing with him for the majority of her shift. His oxygen saturations kept dropping to below eighty percent. He was on a non-rebreather oxygen mask and it was turned all the way to flush. He didn’t tolerate the BI-PAP at all. Next step…Intubation. Not a single person involved in his case wanted to take that step.

He was an older man, fragile. But his family still wasn’t willing to make him DNR/DNI. Because of that, if he stopped breathing they’d have to ‘tube’ him and perform chest compressions if his heart went into a weird rhythm.

His family -for the most part- was in the lounge and spilled out into the hallway. The nursing staff had to remind the family numerous times that there were other patients on the floor trying to recover and that they needed to keep the noise down. If this man codes…Corrine shook her head at the thought, best not to think about it.

Corrine draped her stethoscope around her neck, walked up to the hand washing station, and gave her hands a thorough once over. As she was drying them, she heard the familiar continuous warning beep coming from a telemetry monitor.

Shit! She ran straight for Mr. Rodriguez’s room and yelled, “Someone get the crash cart and bring it to room 433….Stat!” She ran into the room only to find it flooded with hysterical family members. His wife, Isabella, was clinging to him sobbing and wailing. Corrine grabbed onto her shoulders and pulled her away from him. She pushed her toward the closest family member.

She nudged her way through the crowd back to his bedside. She ripped the oxygen mask off his face and hit the CPR release on his bed. His bed flopped down as she grabbed the ambu-bag from the basket on the wall. She glanced at the cardiac monitor hoping that the jarring movement of the CPR release would have kicked him back into a more normal rhythm. No such luck.

She quickly opened his airway, placed the mask over his face, and squeezed the bag twice. She checked his pulse, nothing palpable. She glanced at the cardiac monitor, it showed Ventricular fibrillation. She grabbed the step stool, got in position to do CPR, and yelled, “Everyone out now! There’s gonna to be a lot of people crowdin’ into the room real soon.”

Corrine started compressions as the code team spilled into the room. They worked on Mr. Rodriguez for a full twenty minutes. The House Doctor calmly took off his gloves and tossed them in the trash. He shook his head and said, “Time of death ten sixteen a.m. We did what we could. Well done people.”

The entire room was empty within minutes. Corrine washed Mr. Rodriguez, making him as presentable as possible, and went in to tell his family that they could say their ‘goodbyes’. Dr. Callahan had already been in to speak with them. When she walked in to the family lounge, she was bombarded with hugs and ‘thank-you-for-doing-all-you-could-do’s’.

His wife, Isabella, was a mess. Corrine watched her tiny frame heave with her heartbreaking sobs. It just made her want to cry; she felt the stinging sensation of tears begging to be released and knew she had to get out of there. Be there for them in their grief, do not add to it.

Corrine walked back out to the hallway with her hands tucked in her scrub top pockets. She was staring down at the floor when a shuffling sound shook her from her daze. She glanced toward where the sound was coming from. Her eyes widened in disbelief. “What the hell?”

Staring back at her was Hernando Rodriguez. He was clinging to the door frame, his nose in the air. He inhaled loudly, fluid rattling in his throat. He still had the yellow tinged death pallor and his eyes were foggy. That wasn’t the worst of it though; he was still intubated.

The rigid plastic breathing tube hung from his mouth and he was gnashing his teeth against it as if he would bite through it. His eyes were lifeless; there was no one home. He was well and truly dead.

Corrine kept her eyes on him as she pulled her phone from her pocket. It rang once before Connie answered. “Hey, it’s Cori. We have a huge problem. Send all the staff you can to room 433 now.” She hung up and walked slowly toward Mr. Rodriguez.

He was sniffing audibly as she approached him; he quickly turned his head toward her with his unseeing eyes. He wrapped his fingers around the plastic tube and yanked, pulling it out; fluids and blood trailed out with it. He threw it to the ground.

Corrine winced and started to back away from him. He had a really bad case of flail chest from the ribs that cracked when they did chest compressions on him. He limped toward her; blood dripping from his lips and spattering the front of his gown. She slowly backed away from him with her hands out in front of her.

Doctor Callahan walked around the corner. “What did you-…” Corrine heard him stop dead in his tracks, his shoes squeaking on the floor. He gasped and said, “What the fuck is this?”

Corrine risked a glance back at him, “My thoughts exactly, Doc.”

She turned back to Mr. Rodriguez just as his wife was being led from the family lounge. “Oh shit!” Both Dr. Callahan and Corrine sprang into action, they ran toward Mrs. Rodriguez.

“No Mrs. Rodriguez don-…”

They were too late. Isabella looked up, saw her husband, and ran toward him. She wrapped her arms around his neck, “Hernando, you’re alive! Oh, thank-you Jesus.”

The man wrapped his arms around his wife tightly. So tight, that the unmistakable sound of bones breaking echoed down the hall. She went limp in his arms as he bit down into her neck, tearing into her flesh. Like a feral animal guarding its food, his eyes followed their movements as they approached and surrounded him.

Corrine grabbed the closest thing to her that could be used as a weapon, the fire extinguisher. Dr. Callahan reached out and tried to wrench Mrs. Rodriguez from its grip. “Shit, Corrine! Hit him, do something!”

The thing looked up at her with dead eyes, blood and thicker things slid out of its mouth. She shook her head; she knew what she had to do. She knew that this thing was no longer Mr. Rodriguez. Corrine took a deep breath and bashed the fire extinguisher against its head over and over until grey matter, blood, and bone chips spattered the front of her uniform.

It only went limp when there wasn’t much left of its head. It fell to the floor and loosened its grip on Mrs. Rodriguez. Unfortunately, it was too late for her.

Dr. Callahan checked for a pulse, stood up, and shook his head. She lay on the floor, eyes glossed over...empty as a dolls eyes. Both Dr. Callahan and Corrine were trying to catch their breath, staring at the dead bodies and gore that littered the floor. Other staff and family members gathered around the scene, every single one of them wide-eyed.

Corrine glanced at Dr. Callahan, she tried to catch her breath as she asked, “Well doc…what…do you think…we’re up against…here?”

He looked toward her, his eyes widened, and simply said, “Corrine…I just don’t know.”

Her eyes flitted around, glancing at the staff and family surrounding them and knew just from the horrified expressions on their faces that they both looked a sight. They were all sobbing and clinging to each other. They wore a look that screamed, “What the hell did I just see?”

Corrine turned her attention back to Dr. Callahan, “What are we going to do?”

He looked toward her, but seemed to look right through her. He wiped his brow with his once white coat sleeve, smearing a blood trail across his forehead. He dropped his arm and stared at his blood soaked sleeve. “My God, we must look a fright,” he said as he shrugged off his coat.

She nodded and looked down at her bloody hands. She bit her lip and slowly raised her eyes to meet his as she asked, “What the hell was that thing?” She pointed at the very unrecognizable Mr. Rodriguez. She was functioning on pure adrenaline at this point, even that question sounded whiny and repetitive to her.

Dr. Callahan looked at Corrine, anger flashed in his true blue eyes, “I already said I don’t know Corrine! I still don’t know what the fuck it was! What do you want from me? I don’t have all the answers!”

Somebody in the gathered crowd whimpered then yelled, “Oh my God!” Corrine looked toward the crowd; they stared toward the bodies on the floor with looks of horror plastered across their faces. She slowly turned her head toward the bodies.

She no sooner turned when a resounding THUD echoed throughout the hallway, a spray of blood and other things spattered across her face. She flinched and wiped at the gore.

Her heart was racing; she crab walked backward across the floor, and finally hit the wall. She watched the scene unfold in front of her. Dr. Callahan was on his feet bashing the already gore covered fire extinguisher against Isabella Rodriguez’s head repeatedly.

He bashed with all his might, sending gads of blood, tissue, and other things flying through the air until finally, she didn’t move. He threw the fire extinguisher to the floor and backed up against the wall. He slid down to the floor and wrapped his arms around his knees.

He sobbed once, and stifled it. Corrine slowly crawled toward him and reached out to comfort him. He jerked away from her putting his hand out, “Don’t touch me!” He looked at her pleadingly; tears welled in his eyes threatening to overflow. “I help people live! I have never intentionally killed a living being! Jesus Christ! What have I done?”

Corrine knelt beside him, “That was not a living thing, Doc. It was trying to intentionally harm someone. You helped us by killing that thing.”

Dr. Callahan took a deep breath and looked up at her, his eyes totally blank. He stood and brushed his pants off. “We have to tell the others. Let’s go clean up, I’ll call a meeting. The entire hospital should be aware of what happened here. I'm positive it'll happen again, if it hasn’t already.” She nodded and watched him walk down the hall.

Corrine looked down at her gore spattered clothing and said to whoever was listening, “I’m gonna go get cleaned up. I’ll be back in twenty, okay?”

Several people nodded as she stood and walked down the hallway.

~~~

Corrine descended the stairs and ended up in the bowels of the hospital in a daze. Reliving what had happened over and over in her mind. She killed a man. She had to keep reminding herself, Mr. Rodriguez was not a man; he was a monster that would have, and did, feed on human flesh. We only stopped him from tearing his own wife apart when his brain was practically non-existant…

She walked into the woman’s locker room that just happened to be next to the morgue. It always creeped her out to shower next to the place where the medical examiner’s worked on their preferred patient. Not to mention the smell that emanated from the refrigerated room when a ‘floater’ or a ‘crispy’ came in. Those rancid smells made her feel dirty even after a nice refreshing shower.

Avoiding the mirror, she grabbed a thin white towel, matching washcloth, and some ceil blue operating scrubs. She walked into the group shower and set her things on a dry bench. She peeled off the gore covered scrubs and threw them directly into the biohazard bin. Definitely not wearing those again.

Corrine turned on the water and waited until it was practically burning her skin before she stepped under the steady stream. She turned her back to the shower head and wet her hair. Then turned around and placed her hand on the cool tile wall, resting her forehead on her arm. She watched the pink tinged water circle the drain and felt like crying. She closed her eyes and allowed the hot water to cascade over her skin. Feels so good.

Thud, thud, her head shot up at the sound. She quickly turned off the shower and grabbed the towel wrapping it around her body. She heard the door to the shower room squeal open and ducked behind the tile wall.

A masculine voice yelled out, “Is there anyone in here?”

Corrine stood up and looked toward the door. A security guard was standing there with his back to her.

“Y-yeah, I’m in here.”

“You decent? 'Cause if yer not, you better get that way real fast.”

“Hold on, I just need to throw on some scrubs. Why are you in here anyway?” He just stood there and made a ‘hurry up’ motion with his hand. She pulled on the scrub pants and threw the top over her head. “Okay, I’m decent. Now what the hell is goin’ on?”

The man turned around and exhaled a breath of relief as he looked at her. She recognized him instantly as Jason. He usually worked the graveyard shift, but picked up other shifts often. “Oh, thank God it’s you, Cori.”

Jason walked toward her quickly. He looked like he’d seen a ghost. He was really pale and sweat glistened on his upper lip under the fluorescent lighting. He had his nightstick out and at the ready. He shook his head as he said, “We gotta get outta here, Cori. But, we can’t go out the way I just came in.”

He grabbed onto her arm roughly and started dragging her toward the rear entrance. Corrine tried to tug her arm from his vice-like grip and stammered, “W-wait, Jason. Tell me what’s going on?”

He stopped in his tracks and loosened his grip. He looked directly into her eyes as he said, “I’m sorry. But, those things are right outside the door, Cori. If we don’t get outta here now…we’re as good as dead.”

Corrine nodded and said, “I understand. Let’s get out of here.”

They started to walk toward the back entrance when they heard a Thud and a scream. “Please, please hel-…” The pleas were cut off abruptly. Jason and Corrine looked at each other. Jason ran to the door and locked it.

“Guess we ain’t goin’ out that way either.” He sat down on a bench, placed the nightstick down beside him, and leaned over, his elbows resting on his knees.

Corrine bent at the middle, clutching her stomach. The bile swirled around in her stomach, threatening to come up. She managed to get out a weak, “So, we’re stuck in here.”

Jason nodded. His eyes were too wide, showing too much white. “I guess we are.” He picked up his nightstick and walked over to the front entrance to make sure it was secure.

Corrine straightened out and said, “What are we gonna do? I mean, we can’t just stay in here…we’d be sitting ducks. We need to at least try to get out of here.”

Jason nodded and said, “You’re right. I’d rather die trying.”

Corrine wrapped her arms around herself and said, “You know, we might have a better chance if the hospital actually let you guys carry guns.”

Jason smiled and said, “Yeah. I bet they couldn’t of anticipated something like this happening.” He shook his head. “Well, I got this…” He lifted his nightstick. “Now we hafta find you a weapon.”

Corrine thought about it and said, “We could just pull off a grab bar in the handicapped bathroom.”

He grinned and said, “I’ll get to it. Hold on to this for me…” He handed her the nightstick. He walked off toward the bathroom.

Corrine stood there motionless listening to the sounds coming from beyond the doors; screams, moaning, sounds of despair. A couple thuds resounded throughout the locker room. She flinched, her heart was racing, a stray tear ran down her cheek as she heard Jason approach. She swiped at it angrily.

He walked up to her with a huge grin on his face. He was holding a long grab bar. “Think I better take this. I don’t think you’d be able to handle it as well as that.” He nodded toward his nightstick. “This thing is about as tall as you.” He hefted the bar and spun it in his hands.

His eyes narrowed as he asked, “You okay?”

“No, Jason, I’m not okay.”

Jason nodded and looked down at the floor, a serious expression on his face. He glanced back up at her and said, “You’re right, Cori. But, I’d rather die trying to survive then sit in here listening to the people outside those doors fightin’ for their lives. You ready?”

Corrine walked toward the rear entrance and said, “Ready when you are.”

Jason flipped the lock on the door and whipped it open. They gasped in unison at the sight in front of them. As soon as the doors were open, droves of the dead charged into the room; too many for them to handle.

Corrine got a few good head shots in, but was soon overwhelmed. They clawed toward her and pushed her to the ground. She rolled onto her belly and screamed for help as she tried to crawl out of their grip, her fingernails clawing against the damp tiles.

She heard Jason scream, it was abruptly cut off. Teeth sank into her leg, she cried out in pain as the flesh was ripped away. She heard the distinctive sound of cloth tearing as she was yanked over onto her back. Her head hit the floor, hard. She struggled to open her eyes; her vision was ringed with a white fog.

She looked up at the last sight she would ever see. Five pairs of doll-like, dead eyes stared down at her. Heads tilted to the side, examining her. As a unit, they all came down upon her. Her blood curdling screams echoed throughout the locker room as they tore into her flesh.


The End

WC: 3146