He tried his best to drive steady, hands shaking. God, I havenât driven a car in whatâŠfifteen years, he thought while driving down Broad St. It was dead silent. He pulled over, sat still, he prayed to whatever GOD was out there that this was a dream that he would wake up and get to work and see his friends safe and as normal as the little troup they had were he opened his eyes wide, reached for his phone, and called someoneâŠ
Buster's heart raced as he stepped into the chaotic scene of the hospital. The fluorescent lights flickered overhead, casting an eerie glow on the faces of the infected. He scanned the waiting area, eyes darting from one distressed figure to another, searching for Rosita and Casper. âStay calm, stay focused,â he whispered to himself, gripping the steering wheel of anxiety in his gut. He spotted a nurse staggering toward him, her clothes stained with something that resembled a thick, viscous goo. Her eyes were wide, vacant, devoid of recognition. âHey!â Buster called out, but she only groaned in response, lurching unsteadily. He sidestepped quickly and headed toward the triage room, knowing that he had to find them fast. He pushed through the double doors, taking in the sight: frightened patients huddled together, some covered in the bizarre substance, others moaning in despair. Buster felt the panic rising, but he had to push it down. âRosita!â he called, straining to keep his voice steady. âCasper!â There was no response at first, just the sounds of distress echoing off the walls. He moved deeper into the room, his heart pounding in his chest. Then, through the chaos, he heard a familiar voice. âBuster!â came Rositaâs shaky cry from a corner of the room. He turned abruptly, spotting her crouched beside a curtain, clutching Casper close. The boy's face was pale, but he was safe, at least for now. âThank God!â Buster rushed over, dodging an infected nurse who stumbled past him, moaning. âAre you two okay?â âI-I think so,â Rosita stammered, her eyes wide with fear. âBut we canât stay here! Theyâthey keep coming!â Buster quickly scanned the area and noticed a door at the far end of the room. âWe need to move. Can you walk, Casper?â He knelt down, meeting the boyâs gaze. Casper nodded, albeit a bit hesitantly. âOkay, weâre getting out of here,â Buster said, offering his hand. Rosita gently helped her son to his feet, and they began to make their way toward the exit. As they approached the door, a loud crash echoed through the room. A group of infected burst in, their eyes gleaming with a chaotic frenzy. Busterâs instincts kicked in. âRun!â he yelled, pushing Rosita and Casper ahead of him. He turned to face the incoming tide, raising the gun he had found earlierâthe heavy metal felt oddly comforting in his grip. âGet to the door!â he shouted again, his voice fighting against the rising fear. Rosita and Casper sprinted toward the exit, while Buster squeezed the trigger. It clicked empty, but it was enough to draw the attention of the infected momentarily. He hurled the gun toward the nearest figure, just to buy them a second or two. âGo, go, go!â he shouted, backing toward his friends as they reached the door. He grabbed the handle, pulling it open as he dodged to the side, urging Rosita and Casper outside. They stumbled into the cool night air, gasping for breath. âOver here!â Buster pointed toward his truck parked nearby, the headlights cutting through the darkness. They took off running, adrenaline propelling them forward. Once they reached the truck, Buster quickly yanked open the door and helped Rosita and Casper in. âGet buckled!â he ordered, hopping into the driverâs seat and slamming the door shut behind him. Rosita strapped Casper in with shaking hands. As Buster turned the ignition, the engine roared to life, cutting through the sounds of chaos behind them. He peeled out of the parking lot, the hospital fading in the rearview mirror.
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