Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

There was no one left.

Katya sobbed and trembled in the corner of the classroom, surrounded by upturned desks and bloodstains. The drawings pinned to the walls were coated in the stuff too. Gore covered the carpet, trampled in by children who had fled from certain death only an hour ago. Now they were all gone. Had some escaped? She had no way of knowing. The monsters had killed so many. Katya had tried to protect the children the best she could, but most had panicked and ran, darting down the corridors in different directions and she simply couldn't follow them all. The ones she saw were soon either cut down or turned.

They'd just turned into monsters before her eyes, and her own students then tried to kill her.

So she'd ran.

She struggled to quell her whimpers. She knew she had to be as quiet as possible because the monsters were still out there. Katya curled up tighter, hugging herself and sniffing. Her cheeks were streaked with tears and her fingers covered in blood. Her tights were full of ladders and her jumper and skirt were covered in intestines from where she and a dinner lady had slipped, pursued by a drooling, growling co-worker. Her only saving grace was that said undead co-worker had gone for the dinner lady instead of her.

Katya wondered what her next move should be. Ever since she'd burst into the empty classroom about ten minutes ago, she'd just hidden, letting her emotions out and praying the monsters would leave her alone.

She glanced at the window, allowing hopelessness to wash over her. Of course she'd pick a room on the second storey! Maybe one of her students could make the drop, but she certainly couldn't! Should she wait for the emergency services? Should she make a run for it?

Katya wanted so much to believe a swarm of policemen and soldiers were already battling their way through the school to rescue survivors, but it was a slim chance and she couldn't pin her life on slim chances.

Besides, there was something dodgy about this. All the fire exits had been jammed and the doors locked, as if someone had planned the whole thing. That thought terrified her. The idea that someone wanted to deliberately kill several hundred children at once made her feel sick to the core.

It also made her realise she wasn't getting out alive.

She heard it.

Just barely on the edge of her hearing range, there was the sound of a footstep. Katya squeaked and curled up tighter against the upturned desk she was sheltering behind. Another footstep followed, and another.

It started growling. As the thing slowly walked towards the classroom, she prayed the monster would just walk past. She was hidden. Surely the thing wouldn't hear her. It would just walk by. It would leave her alone.

Katya silently wailed. She didn't dare make a noise. Didn't dare breathe. The thing came closer… closer… it was right outside the door.

It kept walking.

Katya gave the tiniest of sighs, relief washing over her. The monster's footsteps continued past, growing ever fainter. She was safe for a while longer. She trembled as her nerves broke and she gave the tiniest of cries.

The footsteps stopped.

Katya was filled with a cold dread as the footsteps started up again, this time drawing ever closer. And that was it. Now she was sobbing audibly. Katya didn't want to die. She didn't ask for this! She wanted to go home to her boyfriend Eduard and their goldfish and a warm cup of coffee. Why was this happening?

The thing was outside the door now, and Katya gathered her senses together long enough to stop blubbing. She was hidden, so maybe it wouldn't see her.

As long as she stayed silent.

It opened the door and came in, turning the handle and casting a beam of garish artificial light from the corridor across the room. Katya didn't move. Maybe it hadn't seen her yet.

The thing pulled the desk away with a crash and Katya leapt up, screaming. She ran to the corner of the room in a panic, wheeling round to find one of her students looking at her hungrily, brains dripping from her mouth as she inched towards her teacher.

Charlotte Cook had been a lively Year Six child, always getting into scrapes with the boys in her class. She was the child who always got in trouble for keeping bugs in her desk, talking too loudly and getting dirt on her uniform.

And now she was going to kill her teacher.

Katya whimpered and pleaded with the dead girl to spare her, but Charlotte was beyond reasoning. She just kept walking, and Katya was too terrified to run.

Then, when the child was almost upon her, something kick-started her legs and she made a bolt for the door.

But it was barred.

A large, imposing figure in a hooded jacket stood in front of the door, blocking her escape. His arms were folded and he had the tiniest of smiles on his face.

"Please," she begged, "let me pass!"

"But where will you run to? Why bother running?" his smile widened, "just accept your fate. You will stop running. You will die here."

"Please, I don't want to die," Katya clasped her hands together and held them out in front of her, "I want to see my boyfriend and siblings again! I'll do anything! I haven't done anything wrong! Why is this happening?"

The man didn't reply. Instead, he turned to the dead girl and nodded.

"Kill her."

Katya could only scream as the child pulled her back and tore into her skull.

Chapter Text

The screaming wouldn't stop. It attacked him from all sides and no matter how loud Stelios called out, it just would not cease. He writhed, clawing at his face as his half-asleep mind howled at him to do something. With a cry, he sat up straight, panting as he finally realised it was just his alarm. He fumbled for the thing, sitting smugly on his bedside table, and switched it off, then he allowed himself a few moment to calm down. Morning. Oh joy.

Stelios' life seemed to be constantly ruled by shrill noises nowadays. If it wasn't his alarm, then it was his pager. And if it wasn't those things, it was a patient crying or a beeping hospital machine. It was a wonder he hadn't had a breakdown yet.

Not that Stelios didn't love his job, because he most certainly did! He loved being around people and fulfilling such a caring role. He loved hearing the stories his patients had to share, and there was never a dull moment in a job like this. Of course, the rose-tinted dream of saving lives and being a hero that had carried him through medical school had long since evaporated, and nowadays he simply focused on trying not to inadvertently kill his patients. Or fall asleep in the morgue. Again.

Besides, his work was all he had left since his brother's disappearance.

They still didn't know what happened to Heracles. No body had ever been found, and there was no evidence as to who had taken him, or even murdered him. All Stelios knew was that one day he'd left for work and never came back. Even the owners of the restaurant he'd worked at said he never showed up that day.

It had only happened a couple of months ago, and it still weighed upon Stelios' life like a raincloud, and he still clung to the hope that his brother would be found safe. Heracles had to be alive! He needed his big brother. It was Heracles who had encouraged him to pursue a medical career. Heracles who saved every penny to send him to university and make sure he had all the textbooks and stationery he needed. Stelios never realised how emotionally dependent on his brother he had been, until he was gone.

There was also that nagging feeling in the back of his mind. The sly thought that threatened to drive him wild: that Heracles might have walked out on him of his own free will. Maybe he got tired of caring for his emotional younger brother, a job he'd had since Stelios was three. Maybe he couldn't take it anymore. Stelios refused to believe such an evil thought.

As well as plaguing his every living moment, Heracles' disappearance would also creep into his nightmares. The worst of them usually involved him being dragged away, screaming for his little brother to help whilst Stelios just stood there, frozen. Sometimes Heracles would be murdered before his very eyes. And still he'd do nothing. The screaming tore through his very being.

But he did nothing. 

Because he was a coward.

He'd had one of those nightmares that night, which was, understandably, why he'd been so spooked by the alarm.

Naturally, Stelios hated those nightmares. Not only did they bring his own fears to life- there must have been something he could've done to save Heracles!- but they came with a rather embarrassing side effect…

Stelios swore as he pulled back the covers. Yes, he'd done it again. The damp patch on his bed sheets glared back at him, and Stelios groaned as he climbed out of bed. He was a grown man! He shouldn't still be wetting himself over a few bad dreams!

He glanced at the clock to find he was already running late, and quickly stripped his duvet and mattress, leaving the stained items on a heap in the floor, along with the other mess that only came from working 10-24 hour shifts. He'd sort it out when he got home, because right now he barely had time to shower before starting work.

Stelios stumbled out of his T-shirt and boxers as he made his way to the bathroom, wondering if he would have to skip breakfast again.

…

Stelios burst out of the door, jogging down the garden path and leaping over the fence. He tried not to think about how he'd accidentally put the shirt of his blue doctor's uniform on backwards in his haste to leave. There was no time to change it now.

His plimsolls squeaked, slapping against the damp floor as he let out a string of curses. Late again! And now he had the shift from hell! Well, most shifts had a hellish quality in his profession: long hours with no time to pee or grab a bite to eat, let alone get five minute's rest. Still, he seemed to have taken care of the lack of toilet breaks already.

Stelios had to confess he was glad of the distraction. Running around after patients; getting barked at by consultants and surgeons; and being bombarded with nurses asking him to prescribe this and look at that chart and check so-and-so patient was still alive was certainly a lively distraction. As long as he was rushed off his feet and constantly tired and confused and occasionally terrified, he had no time to mourn his brother, or dwell on those horrific dreams. Those crippling, horrifying dreams.

Occasionally, there would be an odd nightmare, different to the others, that felt so real. It involved him lying in bed, completely paralysed as Heracles helped him drink red wine from a beaker. Then he'd stand up and walk away, and all Stelios could do in his drugged, fever-induced state was whimper helplessly as he left. On those days he always slept through his alarm and woke up with barely enough time to run to work, nevermind shower or eat. Not to mention he'd spend the whole day with a raging headache and the sweats. He'd have asked Arthur what those dreams meant, but certainly didn't want to look foolish or weird in front of his rival.

Stelios shook the thought from his head as he ran. He didn't like to dwell on that nightmare; it was too vivid for his comfort.

…

He burst through the doors of the hospital, trying his best to tiptoe around visitors over to the reception desk to sign in without being noticed. But of course, he was unsuccessful.

"Slept in, did we?" asked Niran the receptionist, not looking up from the form he was filling in, his usual smile plastered across his face. He ran a hand through his messy hair, pushing his glasses further up his nose before the jotting continued. "Luckily they haven't started ward round yet. You can make it if you run."

"An accident, I can assure you! But thanks." Stelios scribbled his name in the register just as his pager went off and he had no choice but to answer, darting over to the nearest phone. Feliks, one of the nurses, wanted him to prescribe some more painkillers for a patient in the burns unit. He said he's be there after ward round. He called goodbye to Niran as he sprinted off, nearly sending various nurses and patients flying in the process.

And so it began, yet another busy, confusing day that would leave him utterly exhausted.

"Oh, there you are, Steli!"

Stelios turned around to find fellow Junior Doctor, Angelique Lalande jogging to catch up with him. She was a tiny young woman with large, dark eyes and a mess of frizzy brown hair, and was one of his closest friends.

"Hi, Angie," he gave a curt nod and a warm smile, walking quickly along the corridor.

"Hey. I was wondering if you're busy," she continued, still jogging to keep up with the taller man's strides.

"Um, I have ward round and got to go see a patient, then someone will probably give me more work to do."

"Oh," she looked down, "I was wondering if you could just check up on Mr Adnan for me. I have to deliver some X-rays to the radiologist's desk and they're at opposite ends of the hospital."

"Oh not Mr Adnan," he groaned.

"Please! This would be a huge favour."

Stelios looked over at Angelique's wide, hopeful eyes and he sighed.

"Fine, I'll go look after the miserable old sod for you."

"Thanks! You're a star!"

…

Tsvetan trembled as his fingers wrapped around the syringe and he pulled the cap off. The seemingly innocent clear liquid just sat snug within the glass, waiting to be used. By him. On him. Every impulse screamed at him to run. He almost did there and then.

"And… and you'll promise to let my sister go if I do this?" he asked for what felt like the hundredth time. The man in front of him- the so-called 'Liberator'- sighed, nodding slowly once more.

"She will be free the moment the potion enters your bloodstream."

The Liberator hid his face behind an ornate, full-faced mask. It was a sickly neon green, silver and emerald patterns swirling to mark the contours of the face. Hundreds of tiny, painstakingly-painted patterns. The mask gave the man's face an almost cat-like appearance, completed by a pair of dark green, almost inhuman eyes. They were not the eyes of a sane man. His hair was covered by an oversized grey hoodie, and his jeans and trainers were covered in mud. Altogether, not a man Tsvetan would trust.

And now he'd taken Tsvetan's little sister, holding her to ransom.

He didn't know what business this man had with him, or what the two of them were doing outside a hospital, but he didn't like it one bit. This Liberator guy was going to make him do something evil, he could feel it. And he was just as evil for going along with it.

"No one's gonna get hurt, are they?" He hated the way his voice quivered.

"That's really not your business. Now, you know what to do after the injection?"

Tsvetan nodded.

"Then there's really no need to wait any longer."

"Of course, but," Tsvetan looked away, "what will happen to me after I take this?"

"You'll find out soon enough."

He sighed, deciding to say no more on the subject. There was no point anyway. As if this man would give him a straight answer. All he knew was that every ounce of his being was telling him to turn away. He didn't have to do this. He was a free man!

But for once in his life, Tsvetan ignored his instincts and did the unthinkable.

He became a monster.

With a dry sob, he rolled back his sleeve and plunged the syringe into his arm.

Chapter Text

As a regular drunk, Tsvetan was no stranger to headaches. He often spent whole mornings nursing the things as he avoided sunlight and anything that smelt remotely like alcohol.

But this was something else entirely. He thought he would die from the pain alone, which came in relentless waves that nearly brought him to his knees. He broke into a cold sweat as he struggled to remain standing.

It had taken a short while for the potion to take effect, enough for him to walk into A&E without worry. But by the time he'd reached the desk, he was in agony.

"Please," he rasped, leaning against the desk and gripping the edges with pale, trembling, clammy hands, "help." His throat was like sandpaper, and he felt like he was slowly boiling in his blue hoodie.

The Liberator had neglected to mention these symptoms, of course. All he'd told Tsvetan was that he needed to inject himself with this stuff, walk into A&E and sit in the waiting room. The rest would sort itself out. Tsvetan wasn't sure what was supposed to happen now. They weren't going to experiment on him, were they? Maybe testing out a new drug.

"Okay sir," began the receptionist, a young man with 'Niran Mookjai' written on his ID card. "What seems to be the problem?"

"Pain. My head. Throat's dry." Tsvetan massaged his neck for good measure. He needed water. "Help. Need a doctor. I think I'm dying."

"Yes, you look rather pale," Niran smiled reassuringly. "Take a seat and a doctor will be along in a moment."

"Now." Tsvetan's breathing was ragged. "I need one now." There was a wash of panic, and a surge of blinding anger and hate rushed through his veins. He wanted to tear that annoying receptionist apart.

"There's a queue. You need to wait your turn."

"Do you want to die too? Because if you don't get me a doctor that's what will happen."

"Sir, please be seated," Niran wasn't smiling now. In fact, he was looking a little scared. So he should be.

"Do what I say. Or I will kill you."

"We do not tolerate threats and abuse towards our staff." A short doctor, with a plait trailing down her back, grabbed his sleeve and glared at him with a poisonous expression. Her ID card read Monique Bonnefoy.

And just like that, his anger was gone.

"Sorry," he mumbled, bowing his head. He didn't understand. He would never be this rude to hospital staff! "I don't know what came over me. Truly."

The doctor didn't look convinced. Niran still looked ready to run.

"Very well, just sit down and myself or a colleague will get to you."

This time, Tsvetan complied. He shuffled over to a chair in the corner, sitting on the lumpy plastic just as he was hit by another wave of pain.

…

What with ward rounds, filling in forms and having his dammed pager go off every five seconds, it was mid-morning by the time he finally entered the surgery ward to check on Mr Adnan.

Stelios never liked checking up on this patient. Although he tried to remain friendly but distant to those in his care- especially the dying ones, to save his own heart and mind- he simply couldn't do that with the elderly, Turkish man at death's door.

Mr Adnan had spent years in and out of hospital battling cancer, and for a large part of it, he'd been winning. He came in for his chemotherapy, radiotherapy and to have the tumours surgically removed from whichever part of the body they'd decided to spring up in. But they kept growing back, and now he had a tumour in his brain. It was slowly killing him, but then again, Mr Adnan had been dying for nearly two years. That was when the doctors had first said he only had a short while to live. He'd fought it, and defied all odds, but now it appeared he was finally succumbing. Now it was too difficult for him to walk and see, and talking was a struggle too.

He was to be moved to a hospice soon, where palliative care would see him through the last of his days. The care team would make sure his death was dignified and painless and help him make all the necessary legal arrangements whilst psychologists and an Imam from the local Mosque provided counselling for him and his young son.

He was one of many patients Stelios had cared for, and he would not be the last to die this way, but things were still extremely uncomfortable between the two. They didn't see eye-to-eye on a lot of subjects, Mr Adnan could get quite irritable at times, and Stelios truly didn't know how to react to him.

It also didn't help that he was Stelios' old maths teacher.

Mr Adnan might be old and frail now, but he certainly had a lot of energy as a middle-aged man. He was a fierce teacher, always raising his voice and patronising his students. And he hated Stelios, and Stelios despised him in turn. It didn't help that Stelios had been a scared, clumsy child who was rather slow when it came to maths. He also had a nervous bladder.

Wetting yourself in school was every kid's worse nightmare. But usually that never happened over the age of seven. And it certainly wouldn't happen at thirteen. In front of the class after getting an equation wrong on the board and the teacher shouted at him for a good five minutes, causing him to burst into tears and just stand there in front of a laughing class wailing and wiping snot from his barely visible moustache.

At least Mr Adnan had had the grace to look guilty about it, and never mentioned it as long as he lived. He also became less of a tyrant, not only to Stelios but to the rest of his students, as several of his friends pointed out after thanking him for 'taking one for the team'. That, Stelios decided, was almost worth getting called 'pissy pants' for three years. Almost.

And now this.

He entered the ward, tentative and reluctant as usual. There were only a handful of patients filling the beds, awaiting or recovering from surgeries for their various conditions. Mr Adnan was near the entrance, laying back in bed with intravenous lines snaking in and out of his body. He had lost his muscle, and his spiked brown hair, beard, and pretty much every hair on his chest and arms. His skin was discoloured, greying and wrinkled, papery through his thin pyjamas. His son had produced a length of cloth on one of his visits for Mr Adnan to wear as a turban to cover his baldness, after seeing pictures of them in a history book.

"Um, good morning," Stelios began, walking over to him. Mr Adnan looked over in his general direction, blind eyes clouded and drooping. He smiled at the voice though, skin around the eyes crinkling.

"Ah, doctor," he began in a weak voice, "I trust all is well."

Stelios didn't know how to reply, so he just filled in forms and checked to see that all of his lines were still working and that Mr Adnan's condition hadn't worsened overnight. Everything seemed to be normal, and he was about to leave, when the man spoke again.

"Dr Angel… Stelios," Mr Adnan reached his hand out and Stelios took it, dread rising inside of him; Mr Adnan hadn't called him Stelios since he'd left school. Mr Adnan was silent for a few moments, tracing circles over the back of one of the doctor's hands.

"I'm worried. About Kuzey."

Kuzey was Mr Adnan's 14 year old son, put into care two years ago after his father simply couldn't look after him, and he in turn couldn't care for someone so ill. He visited as often as he was allowed, bringing little presents and stories to keep the man entertained. Even now, a sizable pile of jigsaws and travel games were stacked up next to his bed, never mind that Mr Adnan couldn't even see well enough to actually play them. He appreciated each gift regardless.

Stelios remembered Mr Adnan mentioning that they'd finally tracked down his cousin, who'd agreed to adopt Kuzey. He was already in the country and visiting Kuzey often, to get the boy used to him, apparently. Naranbaatar, the cousin, had come all the way from Ulan Bator to collect him, and would return there with Kuzey. Of course, the boy refused to leave the country while his father was still alive, and Naranbaatar was of the same opinion. Stelios had noticed him visiting on several occasions, asking a barrage of questions about the boy he was now responsible for, as well as his cousin's health and happiness.

He wondered why he was so interested in Mr Adnan's personal life. He never usually observed a patient's life so closely before. Maybe he was just in shock that Mr Adnan of all people was one of his patients, and could actually be good with kids. All through his adolescence, he'd been certain the man loathed children and became a teacher solely to make their lives a misery, but he was so gentle with Kuzey, and absolutely adored the boy. Stelios just wished he hadn't waited until he was in his fifties to get someone pregnant. Maybe his caring side would've come out before Stelios had escaped to college.

"Kuzey?"

"Yes," Mr Adnan took a deep breath, "he's too young to be going through all this. He convinced me he could be my carer before I was admitted, and he was until social services found out. He visits the hospital more times than he turns up for school. I'm worried about him."

"I'm not surprised," Stelios sat down at the edge of his bed, thankful for the chance to rest his feet. "It's a lot for anyone to handle, let alone a kid."

"I feel like I failed him." Mr Adnan's lip quivered.

"I can understand why you're feeling like that," Stelios began slowly, carefully choosing his words, "and it's normal for someone in your position to feel like this…" He looked down at his shoes; "it's not your fault though. Don't ever tell yourself for a moment that it is."

Mr Adnan didn't reply. He just lay there, playing with his hands.

"Come on, old man! You're a knob, but you're not pessimistic."

Mr Adnan barked out a laugh.

"Look, just focus on cherishing what little time you actually have left with your son. He's being looked after, and has a home to go to when you die. You've done enough for him, just don't go all guilt-ridden and distant on him now, you honestly don't have enough time."

"You're right," Mr Adnan glared at him, "how come you were never this smart in school?"

"I was. You never saw. So you can take all those remarks you used to make about me needing a tutor and stick them where I stuck your catheter."

Mr Adnan grimaced. "Besides what you just said, you've been so good to me since I came here…"

"I'm just doing my job." Stelios stood up just as his pager went off. "I, err, I have to get this." He began to walk away.

"Dr Angelopoulos?"

Stelios paused. "Yes?"

"Thank you."

Stelios just nodded, almost barging into a sullen teenage boy in his haste to leave.

Chapter Text

"So, are you getting along with Naranbaatar then?" Sadik asked politely, glancing in the general direction of his son's voice. Kuzey nodded before remembering his father couldn't see.

"Yes. He's rather stern, but nice." The boy thought for a moment. "He's pretty cool, actually. He was teaching me archery and says we can go watch wrestling together sometime."

"Yeah, he's a fun guy, even if he can get a bit grumpy sometimes," Sadik chuckled, mind filled with childhood memories, few and far between due to the enormous geographical distance between the two cousins.

"I'd much rather stay with you;" Kuzey added, "if I could."

"I know," Sadik winked, "I am the cooler cousin."

"You're also my Baba."

Sadik sighed, tilting his head slightly to the side, cheek resting against the cool pillow. He looked so small and fragile to Kuzey, who was used to the tall, muscular, and very loud man that was his father. Sadik's spark seemed to have gone. He no longer sang, or bustled about in his kitchen proudly cooking. His personality had changed drastically; he was no longer confident or competitive, just timid and constantly tired.

Kuzey hated to admit it, but he was slowly losing his Baba.

"For one so young to lose both his parents already is an ultimate tragedy. I'm sorry I cannot be here for you."

"It's not your fault Baba," Kuzey rolled his eyes, trying to ignore that they stung with tears.

"I know. I guess… we still have time though." Sadik reached out a hand, which Kuzey took. "It's not much, but it's something."

…

Tsvetan gasped and spluttered, huddled in the corner of the waiting room. He was curled up on the chair, trembling feverishly and trying not to be sick.

He needed water. Everything burned and his head seared. He wanted out. The room was too cramped. Too full of people. They talked and moved and constantly made noise, and the lights above got brighter by the second. Their body heat radiated from all angles and pressed down on him. His skin burned.

Something inside him was changing. It was becoming harder to hold onto the man he once was.

Tsvetan spied a water cooler in the corner and shakily got up, sweat dripping from every inch of him. Progress across the room was slow, but he eventually made it. He took a cup and filled it with cool, refreshing water, downing it in one gulp.

No effect.

He drank another cupful, but that didn't work either. Even the third cup had no effect. He growled and tossed the cup in the bin, wondering if kicking the cooler would get him thrown out. He decided against it, and turned around, only to find a little boy of about ten staring up at him curiously.

Another flash of anger, and he let out a snarl which sent the child running back to his mother. This time, no guilt followed and he ignored the glares of the other patients as he sauntered back to his seat. What did he care for their opinions?

He snuggled deeper into his hoodie, trying to avoid the light despite the burning heat. Make it stop. He needed cool and dark!

Another wave of pain, and he was stripped of his humanity.

…

"You are making sure my brother is perfectly looked after?"

Stelios sighed as he looked up at the large, intimidating form of Mr Adriaan Morgens. His arms were folded and he glared down at the young doctor. Next to him, sat next to a hospital bed, his sister rolled her eyes as she stroked the youngest Morgens sibling's hair.

Mr Luca Morgens was in a bad way. Although he'd been brought back to a relatively normal weight, his mental health was still far from secure. The boy lay silently in his bed, dozing- apparently- peacefully, wrapped up in baggy silk pyjamas. His bony wrists poked out from their sleeves, hands resting on his chest as it rose and fell slowly.

The patients on the psychiatric ward were usually more difficult to treat. It was all well and good diagnosing someone with a physical disease, then deciding what surgery or medicine would hopefully cure it, but problems inside the mind? That was more of a challenge and it certainly couldn't be approached from a purely clinical perspective. And Luca was a stubborn boy. His physical, psychological and social needs had all been assessed, and written up in his notes, but he was refusing to go along with the care plan.

He didn't recognise that he had a problem. He just wanted to be beautiful. So what? Everyone wanted to look good. Why was his case different? Why was he being singled out? Why was he being locked up in here with the mad people? He wasn't mad. Right?

But Luca's quest for perfection had left him a bag of bones. His soft blond hair was thin and falling out, and his hands and feet discoloured. Luca's pale skin was dry, no matter how much moisturiser he used, and his stomach bloated after years of abuse from laxitives, much to his horror.

He still didn't want to eat. Even the tiny amount of food he was being given, he refused to eat. And he always had an excuse ready. If he didn't hate hospital food, then he had allergies, or he had an upset stomach. They were getting some food into him, but it wasn't enough. They'd had to limit his water, since he drank so much to make it seem like he'd gained weight. He refused to open up during his therapies, and mostly sat and sulked in bed. Progress was incredibly slow, and it could take months for him to be discharged, and after that he'd definitely be an outpatient for several years to come.

And until Luca was better, Stelios would have to deal with his terrifying older brother.

"He is in the best place possible," he stressed, trying not to whimper under the other's glare.

"I'll be the judge of that."

"Ah come on now, Adriaan," his sister, Miss Anri Morgens, began, still stroking Luca's hair, "you're scaring the poor man."

"Good!" Adriaan folded his arms, "maybe that'll make him try to fix our brother."

Stelios could see Adriaan was trembling. There was fear behind his glare, especially when he looked at his brother. He didn't know what to do, and that scared him. Luca had suffered in silence all these years and he'd not known, and now the boy was in hospital, he didn't know how to help him. He felt guilty. He felt powerless. Stelios knew all of this.

He just wished the man would stop taking it out on him; he was just a junior doctor, after all.

Although Anri could get teary and snappy over the situation, she wasn't one to bully the medical staff. She just fretted over her brothers and asked as many questions as she could.

"We're doing everything we can for him," Stelios explained, "but I'm afraid it's all up to Luca now. The moment he responds to the treatment, the moment it all starts going uphill."

The only reason anyone found out about Luca's condition was because he'd been rushed into A&E with heart failure. Stelios had been on call at that time, and was the one to diagnose him, a considerable feat seeing as Adriaan had been shouting in one ear and Anri was wailing in the other.

"I just want my baby brother back," Adriaan whispered.

Stelios understood the feeling all too well. He patted the man's back, reassured him once more, then his pager went off and he hurried away to answer it.

As he rushed through the psychiatric ward, he caught one of the patients- Mr Hassan- waving at him and waved back. He wanted to stop and chat, but he was needed elsewhere.

…

Life in the hospital continued in its hectic, dramatic style. Dr Kirkland had to scold two young American brothers in general surgery for being too noisy. The younger brother patiently waited for his operation that afternoon to correct his curved spine, occupied by his older brother's jokes and stories. Feliks the nurse fretted over one of the patients in the burns unit, a young man with a blistered face whose cousin was being treated for carbon monoxide poisoning elsewhere. A young girl- bruised and dangerously thin- stumbled into A&E with bloodied arms and legs and a little boy fought blood poisoning in the paediatric ward whilst his friend nursed a broken arm in the bed next to him.

And amongst all that, a monster sat huddled in the corner of the waiting room, motionless and ready to strike.

But Stelios- unaware of the impending danger- simply rushed from ward to ward, wherever he was needed, just doing his job and clinging to the last shreds of the belief that he was saving lives.

Chapter Text

"Hey, Angie!" Stelios grinned as he spied his friend in the corridor. Angie, arms laden with envelopes containing x-rays, simply nodded and continued walking.

"How are you?" he asked, jogging to catch up with her.

"Good. Busy." She talked distractedly as she walked down the corridor. "Mr Densen in the liver department tried to discharge himself because he wanted a drink, which is rather odd since he's usually well behaved. I want to run a few more tests on Mr Adnan before he's moved to the hospice tomorrow. Oh, and I have to run these down to the paediatric ward. This kid- Andrei- came in with a broken arm a few days ago and the doctors want to check that it's healing well. They've stuck him next to his best friend, Franz; which is nice in theory, but Franz is really sick and they don't know if he'll pull through so it's distressing for his friend."

"That's awful to hear," Stelios looked down. He wasn't sure what branch of medicine he wanted to go into, if he was completely honest, but one thing was certain where Stelios was concerned: he was never going into paediatrics. Seeing people suffering and dying every day was awful enough, but seeing it happen to small children was too much. Mei, one of the other junior doctors, wanted to get a job on the paediatric ward and he and Angelique thought she was insane.

"Hey look who it is, the Angels!"

Stelios and Angelique wheeled around to find Dr Hunapo Davies walking towards them with their usual kind smile on their face. Stelios liked the consultant, who had taken the junior doctors under their wing from day one. Hunapo was patient with them, and was always willing to help when they were stuck, which was pretty often given that they'd only finished medical school three months ago. They were easy to talk to, even if their sense of humour was a little twisted at times.

Stelios and Angelique had earned themselves the nickname 'Angels' in reference to their names, and the fact that they were rather well liked by patients for their personalities, even if they were a bit useless medically. It was something Mei had come up with two weeks in and had just stuck. Stelios adored the nickname and loved the connotation. He was an angel! People already thought he was gentle and caring enough to warrant such an epithet.

Unfortunately, it also meant few people bothered to learn his real surname.

He didn't mind if it was a patient with speech problems or dementia or was just elderly, but surely the more senior doctors could at least make an effort. So far only Angie and Dr Davies- and one or two others- had managed it. He swore he spent most of his life telling people how to pronounce or spell Angelopoulos. He wasn't even using the full version of his forename dammit! The only effort people could possibly make was with the surname.

"Morning, Dr Sheep."

Dr Davies' mouth curled upwards at the nickname. There was no real reason behind that other than their hair, and that doctors apparently had a poor sense of humour.

"I hope you two are staying out of trouble," they said, giving them a mock-glare. The young pair laughed.

"We're too busy to get into trouble!" Angelique exclaimed before remembering the pile of scans, gasping, and dashing off to deliver them. "Gotta go! Bye!"

Stelios gave a small wave before turning back to Dr Davies.

"And how are you my boy?" they asked.

"Good. Tired, I guess. And hungry."

"Yeah that's the price of fame," Dr Davies winked, "still, you get used to it."

"It's been months now," Stelios whined, "I'm still not used to it."

"You'll get there. Just push through." Dr Davies let out a sigh, running a hand through their hair. "Still, one day you'll be a consultant like me and it'll all be worth it."

Stelios laughed. "If you say so."

"Dr Angel, I need you to book a scan with the radiologist," Dr Kirkland barked, joining them, "stop standing around, boy. You're not paid to chit-chat."

Stelios wasn't too fond of Arthur Kirkland, one of the doctors in the General Surgery department. He was sure the man was nice enough, they just didn't get along. Stelios didn't understand Arthur, and Arthur's people skills left much to be desired. They were generally snarky and rude towards each other, unless talking about Cat Stevens or singing along to his music, then they were suddenly kindred spirits. This fact had first become known at a work party when Stelios had found a guitar and started making his way through various songs with Arthur joining in suddenly. The other hospital staff knew this, and if there was a situation where there was a chance of Stelios and Arthur getting into an argument, someone would start singing 'wild world' and everything would soon calm down.

"Sorry sir," Stelios said through gritted teeth.

"Well, I need a scan booked for Mr Michael Jones in General Surgery."

"I'll talk to the radiologist right away."

"I swear that boy's brother will give me grey hairs before my time," Dr Kirkland sighed.

"Oh? You mean Alfred?" Stelios asked.

"Yeah, he was playing 'war' with Michael last time I saw, hands as guns, shouting stuff in the phonetic alphabet and the like. I was leaving just as the nurse was telling them off."

"I remember learning the phonetic alphabet," Dr Davies commented.

"Oh yes?"

"Yeah, I only got round to learning to spell my name though."

"Interesting. Can you spell your name phonetically, Stelios?"

"Err, sure," Stelios internally panicked, desperate not to look like a fool in front of the other doctors, "sunshine… tequila… egg… lard… eyes… oranges-"

"Dr Angel," Arthur began.

"Yes?"

"Just get the scan booked."

"Right away, sir."

"Sunshine? Tequila?" Dr Davies raised a bushy eyebrow, "got a holiday on your mind?"

"You don't know the half of it sir!"

…

"I guess you were very brave," Feliks commented as he changed Toris' dressing. "Stupid, but brave."

Toris tried to scowl, but his face stung with blistered second degree burns. As if things weren't bad enough without his best friend also being one of the nurses on the ward his was staying in.

Feliks never missed an opportunity to chide him, and although Toris knew he was just scared of the thought that he nearly lost his dear friend, he was still rather disgruntled. What was he supposed to have done? Just stood outside the burning tower block and let Raivis die? All the same, he'll admit his plan was rather flawed: he got lost in the smoke and the fire department ended up dragging them both out, and he was now in hospital too.

But Raivis was the only family he had in the country.

He prayed he wouldn't lose the boy after all this.

Raivis was in intensive care now, and had been for several days. He was in a stable condition and things were looking positive, but so much could go wrong and Toris couldn't allow himself to become hopeful just yet. He'd not seen his cousin since the fire, and wasn't allowed to visit him just yet. Not until his own injuries had healed and Raivis was out of intensive care.

"You'd have done the same for your younger siblings," he commented as Feliks tidied away his tray of food. He was perfectly capable of walking down to the canteen, but Feliks wouldn't let him. Still, Toris wasn't used to being fussed over and even pampered, so he decided to enjoy it while he could. God knows how Feliks milked every small cold and paper cut he got.

"Can you fluff my pillows please?" he asked, laying back in bed.

Feliks rolled his eyes.

"Oh come on." Toris looked up with large eyes.

"Fine," Feliks sighed, "but only because you always took care of me when I was ill."

"Also it's your job."

"Well it's not really. And one more comment like that, and I'll slap the Lithuanian out of you. Burns or no burns."

Toris stuck out his tongue, which was returned. Feliks fluffed up his pillows before jokingly blowing him a kiss and striding off to check on another patient, a boy with third degree burns covering his arm from where he'd been scalded with a pan of boiling water.

"Do you do that to all you patients?" he asked.

"Aw, Yong Soo, are you jealous?"

…

"Sir," Monique tried again, looking down at the hooded man she'd told off earlier and thinking that it might have been better to have just kicked him out once he'd started getting aggressive.

But he'd looked genuinely ill. Still did. Worse, even.

He wasn't responding to her voice, and she wondered if he knew she was even there. He'd been in a pretty bad way earlier, and his health had definitely deteriorated further. It was hard to see under his hood, but it looked like his skin was peeling.

"Sir, I'm ready to see you now. Come along so I can see what's wrong."

Tsvetan looked up, and Monique cried out.

He was drooling, mouth curled into a feral grin as he licked his lips. His teeth had lengthened, becoming yellow and pointed whilst his skin took on a waxy, grey texture. And it was definitely peeling, revealing black, necrotised flesh underneath that was oozing with pus. But the most striking, horrific change was the eyes: completely neon green with no humanity left in them. They looked at her hungrily, manic and wild.

Then Tsvetan lunged at her.

…

Elise Vogel's story was like so many he'd heard before and would again. Unfortunately.

She explained it as Dr Kapur stitched up a rather nasty bite mark on her leg. Physically abused from an early age by her parents, when she was fifteen her brother had died trying to protect her from a particularly savage beating. He'd stood between her and her violent, drunken father and his malnourished, broken body couldn't take it any more.

Elise had run away after that.

Dr Arjun Kapur had heard the story that followed from far too many vulnerable young women: homelessness, drugs, prostitution. Elise was one of many people who had been cast aside by life. Ever since her brother died, Elise had not known love, not had anyone to care for her.

While Dr Kapur stitched her up, Elise asked if she could have a blood test for HIV, just in case. No problem. She needed tests anyway because of her bites, to make sure she didn't catch something from them. Elise was worried about the trouble she would be in, and since it was possible to charge more if she could prove she didn't have any diseases, she hoped that would stop her pimp from being particularly unpleasant when she was discharged.

She asked Arjun if her beauty was ruined, since she was nothing without it, and he said 'of course not'. Elise nodded, but it was clear she didn't believe him.

Arjun asked how she got bitten, and in so many places. She explained a client's dog had gotten loose and attacked as she was leaving the hotel. She'd fallen and it had ruthlessly bit into her from all sides before its owner had eventually gotten bored and dragged it off.

He asked about the bruising. Her clients, again.

Now she was stitched up, she would just have to wait for her test results. Arjun gave her a tenner and told her to buy some lunch in the canteen while she waited.

It wasn't enough, and he knew it. He wanted to wrap her up in a warm blanket and keep her safe and take her home just so she had somewhere to go that wasn't a hostel or motel room. He wanted to protect her from the evils of the world. But ten pounds was all he could give.

Just as she was thanking him, a scream sounded down the corridor.

Chapter Text

Arjun left a confused and terrified Elise behind as he dashed down the corridor towards the sound of shouting. What the hell was going on? It had been Monique who'd screamed, even though she never did such a thing. What had gone wrong to make her do that? And were the patients safe?

He ran into the waiting room and was met with a scene of chaos.

Monique was sprawled on the floor, blood covering her face as she whimpered behind an upturned chair. Several other patients were bleeding too, lying on the floor clutching faces, necks and arms, and most were trying to escape. Many were too ill to stand, let alone run, and were either being pulled away by relatives or simply sobbing in their seats. Arjun glanced at one person lying deathly still on the floor, and gagged; he could see brain tissue leaking from their skull. There were more in a similar state. Dead. His patients were being murdered.

Niran was trying to reason with what Arjun assumed to be the attacker, and was failing badly. His arms were out in front of him, and he stood at a distance from the man with blood dribbling down his chin.

"Sir, please calm down," he cried, trying to remain calm himself in front of the patients. He was bouncing on the balls of his feet, ready to jump back if his assailant lunged for him, which Arjun suspected would happen soon. "Stop this at once! We don't tolerate abuse towards our staff and patients!"

For a few moments, Arjun could only stand there and look on in horror at the dribbling monster that had ripped through the waiting room, with its peeling skin and horrifying, glowing eyes. Either Niran couldn't see that it couldn't be reasoned with, or he was desperate to do something to protect those in his care, even if it was fruitless and just putting himself in grave danger.

He saw a group of people huddling in the corner, including a young boy staring up at him with wide fearful eyes through his mother's arms, and spurred into action. Arjun grabbed a fire extinguisher off the wall and ran over to Niran.

"Hey, I'll take it from here!"

Niran leapt back as the attacker lunged, jogging to a safe distance before turning to Arjun.

"Thank goodness you turned up," he gasped, "the man just went crazy and started taking bites out of everyone!"

"Bites?" Arjun's voice went up an octave. He'd thought the man had a knife or something.

"Yeah," Niran glanced at the snarling shell of a human, "his teeth are all pointed. They weren't like that when he came in."

Before Arjun could reply, the attacker lunged and he swung the fire extinguisher at him in defence. The attacker backed off slightly.

"Niran! Call for backup!" he shouted. Niran darted off to the phone on his desk, punching in a number to call for someone. Anyone.

Arjun continued to exchange blows with his assailant, dodging as the monster-man lashed out with jagged claws, snapping with those teeth. He gagged at the rancid smell of the man's rotten flesh.

"Woah, you need to get some moisturiser on your crusty fucking skin!" he exclaimed, and even through the commotion he could hear Niran sigh from across the room.

"Focus!" he shouted.

And Niran had a point, because just then, what had been Tsvetan lunged forward and scratched his face. Arjun hissed, falling back and wiping blood from his cheek. He slipped and crashed to the floor. The monster advanced and Arjun struggled to get up again, still clutching the fire extinguisher.

Then a chair flew out of nowhere, hitting his attacker in the chest and knocking him back. The monster stumbled, but remained standing. Still, it gave Arjun a chance and he took it, scrambling to his feet and swinging the fire extinguisher at Tsvetan's head.

It hit, but not hard enough. The monster lurched but kept coming.

Another chair. It was Monique, lunging forward and swinging the thing at the attacker, knocking him backwards. Arjun joined in, bringing the fire extinguisher down on his head.

And finally, the monster collapsed to the floor with a groan.

Tsvetan's body twitched, and Arjun brought down the extinguisher again, bile rising in his throat at the sickening crack of the man's skull. He looked down, trembling and panting at the now lifeless body. He'd killed someone. He'd killed one of his own patients!

Arjun and Monique exchanged horrified glances in the silence that followed, and Niran slowly joined them.

"Is he… dead?" he asked, gripping Monique's sleeve nervously.

"I think so." Arjun looked at the other two. "What the hell happened here?"

"I don't know," Monique shivered, "he just attacked me. I don't think he was human… but what else could he be?" Blood was still trickling down her face and the bite marks were beginning to scab over. Arjun pretended not to see the green pus spilling out of a few of the wounds.

"I killed him," Arjun said, voice monotonous.

"You had to," Niran told him, "he was killing the other patients. It was self-defence, right?"

He turned to the surviving patients, checking any injuries and trying to calm them down. Monique was about to follow, when Arjun grabbed her sleeve.

"You should get your face checked out," he told her, "that looks pretty nasty."

"Likewise."

It was then that Niran's backup finally arrived. Dr Davies burst into the waiting room, and cried out at the scene that met them.

"Your back up was one person?" he hissed at Niran, who just shrugged.

"Everyone was busy," he replied, "besides, it didn't matter if I'd called for one person or the army. You still would've smashed that man's brains out before they got here." Arjun flinched.

"Dr Kapur, Mr Mookjai, Dr Bonnefoy," Hunapo exclaimed, "why are there bodies all over the floor? What the hell happened?"

Niran gushed out a hurried explanation whilst Arjun calmed everyone down. Monique sat on one of the chairs, clutching at her face and hissing. Arjun pretended not to notice. There was one word buzzing around his head. A word he'd heard plenty of times in American and British films, one that would explain Tsvetan's behaviour. And one that meant Monique was doomed, as well as a danger to anyone she came nto contact with. Him too, Arjun realised as he brushed his cheek, claw marks still fresh and jagged.

But zombies didn't exist, right?

"You two need medical attention," Dr Davies stated, "you're in the right place for it at least." They chuckled at their own joke before continuing, "look, take any injured patients off to a side room and I'll take a look at you all in a minute."

"Right, of course," Arjun helped Monique up, directing the patients that could still stand down the corridor to a side room whilst Niran and Dr Davies fetched wheelchairs for the patients that couldn't. Uninjured patients were moved to children's A&E whilst the regular A&E was out of bounds, given tea, and placed under Niran's watchful eye.

As Arjun paced up and down the side room trying to comfort patients, all thoughts of zombies and other such nonsense fled from his mind, replaced by a larger and far more ominous thought.

How exactly was he supposed to explain away bludgeoning a man to death to the police?

…

Elsewhere in the hospital, things were their usual hectic. There were forms to be filled, tests to be carried out, sick people to operate on. Just a normal day for most of the staff.

Tino nodded to Dr Lalande as he entered the ward and walked over to his husband. Berwald smiled warmly, but didn't have the energy to wave, and when Tino hugged him, he couldn't raise his arms to hug back. Berwald was thin and pale, the bruises littering his arms vivid shades of purple and yellow. His breathing was ragged and when Tino took one of his hands, it was clammy.

Berwald's hand twitched and he smiled again.

"How are you?" Tino asked.

"Fine, I guess." Berwald blinked slowly.

He seemed almost transparent to Tino now, especially in the bright sunlight against the white sheets, a far cry from the tall, solid man he had married all those years ago. The sight of his husband, so fragile and helpless, tore at Tino's heart and terrified him.

But he never showed it.

He had to be strong for Berwald. But the long weeks spent in and out of hospital had worn Tino down emotionally and he didn't know how much more he could take. He just wanted things to return to the way they were, and remembered when he and Berwald had been a newly married couple, happy and in love, filling out adoption forms and talking to social workers. The adoption process had been dull at the time, he'll admit, but now he missed dull. 'Dull' was definitely better than frightened and uncertain for the future.

Did they even have a future now?

But he said nothing. After all, it was Berwald who needed the bone marrow transplant, who had gone through chemotherapy, not him.

Still, his younger brother, Aleksander, had been found to have the same tissue type, and was willing to be a donor. Berwald's operation was tomorrow, and Tino tried to be positive, but the procedure would put enormous physical strain on Berwald, and so many things could go wrong. It could kill him, even, and if he survived, he'd be in hospital for several weeks just recovering.

"Are they treating you well here?" he tried.

Berwald sighed. "Y's, perfectly well."

There was an agonising pause as Tino thought about the past few months. The chemotherapy had wreaked havoc on Berwald's body and done little to actually kill the cancerous cells in his bloodstream. It had made him severely ill, gave him mouth ulcers and caused his hair to fall out. Berwald hadn't minded, so long as he was getting treatment.

But it hadn't been effective so now the doctors were trying a transplant. Again, Berwald didn't complain; he just wanted to get better and go home to his family.

"How are our boys?" he asked.

"Oh fine," Tino sat down next to him, "they say hi, by the way. Lars is in homework club again and Peter got a detention for farting in another student's face."

Berwald laughed, as did the man in the bed next to him.

"Your kids are hilarious," Sadik exclaimed whilst Kuzey rolled his eyes.

"Oh they are," Tino let out a sigh, "a handful though."

"Luckily I have Kuzey, who is no trouble at all," Sadik reached out a hand to ruffle his son's hair, and poked him in the face.

"Baba!" Kuzey exclaimed.

"Oh, sorry." Sadik grinned, "so where are your little boys then?"

"At school," Tino replied, glancing at Kuzey but saying nothing. He knew why the boy was constantly bunking from school and understood fully. Kuzey had such little time left with his father.

Besides, Tino himself was only here because he'd phoned in sick from work. Like he wasn't going to be beside Berwald on the day before his operation.

"Oh that's a shame," Sadik frowned, "Kuzey can't see his friends today."

Kuzey shifted so neither Tino nor Berwald could see him pull a face.

"Speaking of friends," began Tino, turning back to Berwald, "how have you and Mr Adnan been getting along?"

"Talks too much," Berwald stated, "never shuts up, then c'mplains he's tired." Tino laughed.

"Oh come on! I don't talk that much!"

"You do a bit," Tino commented, "like me, I guess."

"Are the others being mean to you?" Dr Lalande cooed, standing on the other side of Sadik's bed and filling out his chart.

"Don't worry about it, Dr Angel," Sadik waved a hand, "I'm blind to the haters."

"And everything else," Tino muttered.

"Don't be mean!" cried Kuzey and Berwald at the same time.

"Fine, sorry."

"That's my son." Kuzey gave his father a hug, which was returned.

"So are you scared about your operation tomorrow?" Tino asked, turning to Berwald and stroking his hand with a thumb.

"Yes," Berwald admitted, "but it'll be worth it in the end. I just have to do this and it'll be all over."

Tino smiled. "Yes. All over…"

…

The Liberator walked back to his van, a silver transit sat in the car park. He took out his keys and unlocked the back door to find a crowd of teenagers with wide fearful eyes staring back, crouched on the floor and holding several devices each. Like Tsvetan, they wore hoods to cover their faces, and some were covered in bruises.

He'd recruited them from the local shopping centre, forcing them to work for them or he'd tell the police they'd been bunking off to spend the day loitering and vandalising property.

"Well," he began, "you know what to do."

One of the teens, a young boy, peered out at where they were and whimpered.

"A hospital? What are we doing here?"

"That's not your concern. Just do your job."

"But my parents are here," the boy continued, "I don't want to hurt them. You're going to make us hurt people, aren't you?"

The Liberator sighed; there was always one. He grabbed the boy roughly by his hair and climbed into the van, ignoring the child's screams and closing the doors behind him.

…

The other teens looked at their dead friend with tears in their eyes as the Liberator stood over the body, wiping blood from his knife. Blood bubbled from the slit in the boy's throat as his glassy eyes stared blankly up at the roof of the van.

"Anyone else got any problems?" he asked, and the teens shook their heads. "Good. Now go."

They opened the doors of the van and burst out to complete whatever job they'd been assigned, either setting up locking devices or to direct ambulances and cars to other hospitals.

And when they were done, he could finally act.

Chapter Text

Chapter Text

Niran briefly left his patients to check on Dr Davies' progress, and to ask about the victims, per requests of their friends and family.

Victims. The word made him uneasy. Victims of what exactly? A human attack? It didn't seem like one. And besides, they weren't dead yet.

Well, most weren't, Niran thought with a grimace as he walked past the A&E waiting room, cordoned off as more medical staff began to move bodies to the morgue.

The incident was still fresh in his mind. Something like that would never leave him, for as long as he lived. He feared he wouldn't be able to sleep with the memories. It was the brutality of the attacks that shocked him most. How could anyone inflict that level of damage to another human being? And with their fucking teeth.

As he walked down the corridor, Niran recalled how the thing-that-had-been-Tsvetan seemed to have attacked in a pattern. After taking a single bite out of Monique's face and doing the same to a few of the patients, only then did he actually try to kill his victims. Niran didn't understand it at all. The whole situation was just too odd.

A shriek made his head snap up, looking at a door just ahead of him; worryingly, it had come from his destination, where Dr Davies, Monique and Arjun were being kept. What was going on now?

The door burst open and Dr Davies fell out, trying to fend off a growling Monique with their one uninjured arm. Patients spilled out either side of them, screaming and running, some didn't get very far, and collapsed on the floor as they transformed into the same monsters before turning on their peers. Arjun was among them, calling out to Niran the moment he spied him and running to his friend. The pair set off back down the corridor, clutching each other's hands and stumbling this way and that.

"What the hell happened?" Niran cried.

"I don't know! Monique just went crazy and started attacking Hunapo!"

"Do you think she's turned into the same thing as that other guy?"

"Seems so," Arjun looked ill, "this whole thing is a mess!"

"Yeah, people being turned into monsters is hardly good news!"

"How is this even happening though?"

"How the hell would I know?"

Niran watched as Arjun stumbled slightly, clutching his head and hissing in pain. His eyes fell on the scratches across Arjun's cheek and his stomach sank. No, not him too…

Anything but that!

"I'm okay," Arjun gasped, "just got a bit of a headache." He glanced back at the chaos behind them and stood up straight. "C'mon!"

"No!" Niran grabbed him by his collar and pushed him back so that Arjun smacked his head against the wall before sliding to the floor with a whimper.

"Niran?"

"No... No!" Niran backed away, "you're gonna turn into one of them!"

Arjun coughed weakly, looking up as blood began dribbling from his chin and he took a slow, rattling breath. There was no way that could just be Niran's doing.

"…Please."

"If you knew what was good for me you'd not follow!" Niran took off again down the corridor, reaching the end before glancing round to find that he'd abandoned Arjun just in time, as the latter was now standing up and glaring at him with bright orange eyes, the human he once was wiped away forever.

Niran didn't look back again, opting for running as fast as he could instead. He only paused to yell at the medical staff in the waiting room to run before taking off again. He had to get back to his patients. He had to keep them safe.

But now he was leading the monsters right to them.

How was this happening? What sort of Hollywood bullshit was happening right now? People were turning into zombies right before him, and Niran truly didn't know what to do. He'd always ignored people discussing what they'd do in the event of a zombie apocalypse because he never believed it would happen. It was all nonsense! Yet here he was now, running for his life from something he'd dismissed as fictitious horror.

He burst into Children's A&E and slammed the door behind him, throwing his weight against it whilst Arjun tried to tear it open on the other side. He yelled for his patients to barricade the door with furniture, and the ones who could did so, dragging tables and chairs over until there was enough of a blockade that Niran felt it was safe to let go.

He stood back from the door, wincing at each bang and crash as monsters threw their weight against it. Who knew how long it would hold?

His patients looked at him for an explanation, but he found he couldn't give one. He saw that some were desperately sick, and couldn't even stand by themselves. They needed treatment but there was no doctor left to help them. It was too dangerous to keep them in a hospital full of monsters, and Niran realised he was left with one choice.

"I'm afraid you'll have to be moved to a different hospital," he told them, "it's not safe here anymore."

"What do you mean?" one man asked.

"What about my mother?" asked a young woman, "she was bitten by that man."

"I'm afraid there's nothing that can be done for the patients who were attacked," Niran said regretfully, "they're all dead."

"What?" his patients erupted into a barrage of questions.

"How could that happen?"

"Are you lying?"

"Why wasn't anything done to prevent it?"

"I'm sorry, but it seems they were infected with a virus or something," Niran tried to come up with a logical explanation, more for his own benefit than anyone else's, "it made them aggressive and sick before killing them and it's spreading through the hospital fast. I have to get you all out of here before you're infected too." Made sense. And everyone seemed to have bought it to some degree.

The patients slowly began filing out of another door, supporting those who couldn't stand by themselves whilst Niran hung back. He paged Dr Kirkland, darting to a nearby phone to explain the situation- a struggle since Dr Kirkland was determined he was just tired and hallucinating- and ask him to warn everyone and start the evacuation process, before he followed the others into the corridor, slowly directing them towards the exit.

Every movement could be their last, and Niran would be lying if he said he wasn't terrified. Still, he had to remain professional, and make sure everyone stayed alive. With Arjun and the others gone, he was the most senior staff present and the patients were his responsibility.

He thought of Arjun, of the pain he must've been in, and the fear as he'd turned into a monster. He missed his friend so much, horrified at the murderous shell he'd been reduced to. He thought of Kim-ly too, his other dear friend who was still trapped in a different part of the hospital. There was no way to warn her of the danger, and just hoped she would get out before something bad could happen.

He'd already lost one friend and couldn't bear for it to happen again.

But all thought of Kim-ly and Arjun were pushed from his mind when he caught a small child staring at him, waiting for directions like the rest of the group.

"Right, this way then," he said, marching on.

…

Stelios jumped as a hand tapped his shoulder. He glanced up to find a rather irritable Dr Kirkland glaring down at him.

"Yes?"

"I want you to help me with something, Dr Angel," he began, "Mr Mookjai just paged me to say people in A&E were being attacked and turned into monsters. The man's fucking high or something, but I want you to check it out with me."

Stelios exchanged glances with a confused Mohammad before turning back to Arthur. Since when did he ever ask for help? And what the hell was he on about? Stelios felt a chill down his spine. People were being attacked?

"Um, I'd rather not," he said, the conversation with Carlos still fresh in his mind and the sudden mention of monsters so shortly afterwards spooking him. "I still have some of my lunch left."

"Dr Angel I wasn't making a request, I was giving you an order," he closed his eyes and sighed, "because Mr Mookjai didn't just babble out some nonsense about monsters, he also informed me that several patients are injured, along with some of the doctors, and that is far more concerning news in my opinion."

"So you need me to help patch everyone up?" Stelios shrugged, standing up, "wish you'd said that before."

"Regardless, just come with me." Dr Kirkland walked away; Stelios pulled a face and said goodbye to Mohammad before following.

"So, Arthur," he began once they were outside.

"It's Dr Kirkland to you."

"Anyway, Arthur, what was Niran saying about monsters?" Stelios had to jog to keep up with Dr Kirkland's stride, despite being the taller of the two.

"A load of waffle, really," he replied curtly, eye twitching, "he seemed to be a nervous wreck though. But pot does that to you."

"How can you be so sure he was on drugs?" Stelios raised an eyebrow.

"Well what other explanation can there be? Alcohol, I suppose, but really, Dr Davies, Dr Bonnefoy and Dr Kapur turning into zombies? It sounds so illogical."

"Dr Davies is hurt?" Stelios stopped, "are they okay?"

"I don't know," Arthur sighed.

"Don't you think after what Carlos said about that school in Kent that it's just too much of a coincidence that Niran reports something like this? What if it's about to happen again?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Arthur snapped, though even he seemed uncertain. "Carlos was just pulling a sick practical joke."

"Carlos doesn't do practical jokes and you know that," Stelios growled.

"Alright, so he was duped by some internet trolls? The article has to be fake."

"So you've convinced yourself it was bollocks?" Stelios sighed, "come on Arthur, you're cynical but not this blind."

"Well maybe you're just gullible," Arthur shot back.

"Harsh, old man."

"Shut up. Do you hear that?" Arthur stopped, listening hard. The corridor was empty and silent, save for the faint sound of footsteps and a low growling. The pair exchanged nervous glances before Dr Davies came stumbling around the corner, or, at least, what was left of them did.

Like Tsvetan, Monique and Arjun before them, Hunapo Davies had been stripped to the bare shreds of their existence, nothing more than a ravenous monster bent on murder and destruction.

And Stelios and Arthur might just be their next targets.

The pair stood in silence for a few moments, locking eyes with Dr Davies' wild, neon ones.

Then the zombie lunged and Stelios and Arthur shrieked before wheeling round and running back down the corridor.

Chapter Text

“What the actual fuck?!” Stelios exclaimed, dragging Arthur behind him. Hunapo, to the pair’s horror, broke into a run, stumbling and hobbling, but managing to keep their prey within their sights. Their growls made Stelios’ skin crawl.

“Okay, maybe Niran wasn’t talking complete bollocks!” Arthur replied.

“You think?!”

Stelios threw himself around the corner, and the canteen door came into sight, near the far end of the corridor. A chance. If they could just make it to there… He saw Alin leave with his little brother, and Stelios yelped.

“Get back inside!” he called, letting go of Arthur and cupping his hands over his mouth, “it’s not safe! There’s a monster coming!” The brothers looked at him in confusion, but it was at that moment that Hunapo chose to burst into view, snarling and spitting.

That caught their attention, at least. Alin grabbed Andrei by the shoulder and pulled him back inside, slamming the door shut. The two doctors linked arms once more, Stelios pulling the shorter man along. Both were absolutely terrified, too scared to even question why a colleague was trying to kill them, and only knowing that’s what would happen if they were caught. Even now, Stelios was hoping this was a stunt. Maybe Hunapo found some make up and did their face up to look like a monster for a joke? It looked too real to be make up though. Maybe they were injured and was just making the most of it, by scaring the ever-loving fuck out of their friends? But really, they’d never cause such a disturbance in a hospital full of sick and vulnerable people. Yet he half-expected to hear the footsteps slow down and Hunapo to start laughing, but they didn’t.

It just wasn’t someone they could do any more; the only thing in their mind was destruction and feeding their ravenous, unrelenting appetite.

Arthur tripped and fell, yanking at Stelios’ arm and would’ve pulled him down too, had he not had the sense to let go.

Stelios wheeled around in time to see Hunapo pounce, sinking their teeth into his leg and pulling him back.

“Run, dipshit!” he yelled, hissing in pain.

But Stelios couldn’t, and just stood there, frozen. He couldn’t just abandon him! They didn’t get along, but a human life was still a human life. Though what could he even do to save Arthur?

Hunapo stood up straight and darted towards him, but Arthur grabbed their leg and pulled them back down.

“Leave me! You have to warn everyone!”

Stelios forced his legs to move, taking off in the direction of the canteen and trying to drown out Arthur’s shouts.

When he chanced a glance behind him, Arthur was deathly still whilst Hunapo had broken free, and was back to running at full pelt. He yelped and didn’t look back.

He slammed into the canteen door and tried to push it open, but it wouldn’t budge. He rattled the handle before throwing his whole body against it, battering it with his fists, but it was useless. He looked through the window to find Alin holding it shut.

“What the hell?” he cried, “let me in!”

Alin shook his head, eyes wide.

“Let me in, please!” he sobbed as Hunapo drew nearer, “I’m not a monster!”

But the fearful Alin wouldn’t. He held the door shut, no matter how loudly Stelios pleaded and screamed and threw his weight against it. He was not jeopardising his brother’s safety- or the lives of anyone else in the canteen- for one man.

“I don’t want to die!”

All the while, Hunapo kept coming closer, slowly, hungrily sizing him up. Why rush? He wasn’t going anywhere. Their tongue hung from their mouth, dripping blood and saliva. Down the other end of the corridor, Arthur began to stir.

“Please,” Stelios whispered, resting his forehead against the glass. His trembling hands couldn’t form fists any longer, and rested weakly on the door either side of his face, cool wood under his fingertips. He glanced up one more time to see Alin elbowed away from view and Mohammad's face glaring back at his own with a mixture of horror and outrage. He wrenched open the door and Stelios tumbled in, hitting the floor with a harsh thud and turning around just in time to see half the canteen’s population throw themselves against the door to stop Hunapo following.

“Get something to barricade the door!” Érzsebét cried, and more people rushed forward with chairs and tables, Kim-ly and Cheng even pushing over the vending machine. Eventually, everyone backed away, flinching at each little thud as the zombie threw its weight against the door, but thankfully it didn’t budge.

“What the fuck was that?” exclaimed Carlos after a long moment of silence.

“Hunapo…” Stelios swallowed as he tried to still his trembling arms. His whole body shook uncontrollably and he could barely form words. Everything seemed to fall into silence as time came to a halt. Dr Davies tried to kill him? The doctor he looked up to, the one who had been a lifeline these troublesome few months, had tried to kill him? Had killed Dr Kirkland?

“What is it?” Mohammad leaned down in front of him, “what happened to Hunapo? They’re Dr Davies, right?”

He didn’t want to say it. Any minute now, that little prick would start laughing from the other side of the door, exclaiming that Stelios’ expression was the funniest thing ever, but he could only hear growls and snarls, two sets now. Had Arthur turned into a zombie too?

“They’re a monster,” he squeaked, “they were horrible and drooling and their teeth were weird and they tried to kill me!”

Mohammad frowned, “they what? But monsters don’t exist.” Even he didn’t look convinced though, and Stelios knew he was thinking of what Dr Kirkland had said just before they’d left: that Niran had seen a monster. It was all too much of a coincidence. He wondered where Niran was now.

“Where’s the other doctor?” He tried.

“Arthur? I think he’d dead,” Stelios felt sick as he said that. “Dr Davies- Hunapo- they pulled him down and bit him. He’s probably a monster too now.”

“What do you even mean by monster?” asked Eduard, “aliens? Vampires?”

“Zombies,” Stelios covered his mouth as he nodded, “yes, that’s what they looked like, undead zombies with horrible mad eyes. They smelt of rotting flesh, like they’d been dead for ages!”

“Dead for ages?” Alfonso raised an eyebrow, exchanging glances with Carlos, “rotten? Like that lot in Canterbury?”

“What’s this about Canterbury?” asked Eduard.

“Something odd I read,” Carlos shrugged, “apparently everyone in a school was killed but we don’t know how. Tragic. Absolutely tragic.”

“Do you know which school?” Eduard looked a little ill, though Stelios wasn’t paying too much attention.

“I’m afraid not, why?” Carlos pulled out his phone.

“Well,” looking down, Eduard began playing with his apron, “my girlfriend works in Canterbury as a teacher. She didn't come home last night, and I'd assumed she needed to work late and stayed at a hotel... but... You don’t think it was that school that was attacked?”

“I honestly can’t say. I’ll check now!” Just as he was about to access the internet, the thing went dead and Carlos scowled, smacking the screen and clicking the start button, but the thing remained blank. “Piece of shit!”

“Well you were on it all lunchtime,” Alfonso commented.

“It shouldn’t die this quickly!”

“Excuse me! There’s a zombie outside, apparently!” cried Kim-ly, “I think that might be more important than your phone.”

“Is it more important than my girlfriend though?” Eduard glared over at her as she peered through the window on the door, past piles of furniture. The tiny square of corridor she could see was empty of life- and un-life, for that matter. Where was Dr Davies now?

A face smacked into the window and she screamed, but it wasn’t Hunapo.

Dr Kirkland drooled and snarled at the crowd inside, but the door held fast, despite his and Dr Davies' attempts to break it down. Kim-ly forced herself to keep looking, despite that unnerving neon acid that was supposed to be his eyes, and even as she watched, more of his skin peeled and rotted, and his teeth twisted and sharpened to points.

“Horrible,” she muttered as she stepped away. “I don’t think we’ll be leaving from there, at least.”

“But we will be leaving, right?” asked Andrei. He looked up at his brother, and Alin nodded.

“Of course!”

“Well it won’t be from here either.” Cheng shut the other exit and Érzsebét pushed a table in front of it, only moments before there was a thunderous rattle as several zombies crashed into the door.

The occupants of the canteen huddled in the middle of the room, on the few tables and chairs not being used as barricades. They tried to process what they’d just seen, this whole situation just too unreal to believe. But it had happened. There were monsters outside trying to kill them. Why?

“Thirteen people,” Alin commented, looking around, “all trapped in one room? This is a bad omen if I ever saw one.”

“Shut the fuck up,” snapped Érzsebét, and the group fell into silence once more.

“What do we do now?” Elise piped up for the first time.

“Well there’s a door in the kitchen,” Eduard replied, “it leads outside, in fact!”

“What are we waiting for then?” cried Alfonso, “let’s go!”

“I’ll go first,” Kim-ly told them firmly, standing up and walking over to the kitchen area, “to check there’s not more of those things.”

“What do we do when we get outside?” asked Roderich.

“Call the police?” replied Yao, “what else would we do?”

“How about getting the patients out?” Roderich had opened his mouth to reply, but found Érzsebét had already answered with what he was going to say.

“I think the logical thing to do would be to get us outside and let the police deal with the rest,” Mohammad scratched his chin. “I mean, what can we do?”

“Well according to that news report, the police can’t do a lot either,” Carlos commented as Kim-ly returned.

“It’s locked,” she stated, hands on hips, “and I don't have the key. We’ll need some people to break it down.

“I’ll help,” Érzsebét stood up.

“Great, we have some tenderisers we can use,” Kim-ly told her, as Carlos and Alfonso made their way into the kitchen to help. Érzsebét shrugged.

“I’d prefer to just kick the thing down.”

“I’m not leaving,” Roderich told anyone who was still listening. “You can’t make me.”

Stelios, meanwhile, was still sprawled on the floor, staring up at the door as his adrenaline levels still continued to make him feel sick. What the fuck had just happened to Hunapo and Arthur? They’d been turned into monsters? Killed? Why hadn’t he been able to stop that happening? And what divine energy had intervened and allowed him to be spared?

Next to him, Mohammad reached over and stroked his hair, unsure of what to say.

“This wasn’t covered in Med School,” Stelios whined, “none of the textbooks mentioned zombies.”

“That might be because they’re not meant to exist,” Mohammad looked up at the door, still being pummelled by zombies.

“Hey guys, you might want to come here for a second,” Kim-ly called, and everyone besides Yao, Elise and Andrei rushed into the kitchen, Mohammad picking Stelios up and leading him past the counter.

“What’s up?” asked Alin, though it was pretty clear from the scene laid out before them.

Two meat cleavers and a tenderizer were embedded in the fire exit, and Carlos was struggling to pull one of the handles out. Next to him, Érzsebét had only just succeeded in removing the sole of her boot from the ice encrusting it.

“What the hell?” Stelios walked forward, brushing his fingers against the bar and wincing at the chill. “Okay I’m starting to think I’m too sleep deprived, or is everyone else seeing this?”

“Well I got a good night’s sleep and the door still appears to be frozen,” Cheng added.

“But why?” said Alin, “and why can’t you open it?”

“It’s locked, like I said,” snapped Kim-ly, “and now for some reason we can’t break it down.”

“I don’t want to alarm anyone,” began Mohammad, “but it seems someone might want us trapped here.”

“What?” Stelios laughed nervously, “what are you saying? We don’t even know what's going on yet.”

“Except that there are monsters who want to kill us,” Mohammad spoke calmly, slowly, firmly, “and we have no means of escaping. I could take a pretty wild guess.”

“But who’d pick on a load of ill people?”

“Someone who wanted easy targets?” Roderich slid to the floor, unable to stand on his trembling legs. “You know, people who can’t run away or fight back?”

“People attached to machines and in wheelchairs,” added Eduard.

Carlos rubbed his chin. “How are we supposed to get everyone out?”

“How are we even supposed to get out?” Alin studied the door closely, “cause it’s certainly not gonna be from here.”

“Front door it is then,” said Alfonso, and was met with a wave of protests.

“Oh, right, we can’t get out this shitty door but the front one will be fine!” Kim-ly rolled her eyes.

Alfonso shrugged, “it’s better than the idea of us not being able to get out.”

“Well I’m not going anywhere until I find my son,” Érzsebét told them, “so you all can do what you want, but I’m going to tear this place apart until I get to him.”

“Your son is the one on life support, isn’t he?” muttered Alfonso thoughtfully, but he was ignored.

“I’m coming with you,” Roderich spoke up, “he’s my son too and I can’t let him die!”

“What can you do?” Érzsebét almost scoffed, “just get yourself out and let me worry about Franz.”

“No!” Roderich pulled himself up, puffing out his rather feeble chest, “I love my son and I’m not leaving without him!” The two glared at each other for a moment, before Érzsebét’s eyes narrowed.

“If you love him so much why do you hardly visit him?” she spat.

Roderich recoiled in offense. “I’m sorry I have a job that requires me to actually work hard!”

“How is your job more important than your child?” Érzsebét almost screamed.

“It’s not but I don’t have a choice in it! How can I help Franz if I’ve been fired?”

“How can you help him if you’re not there when he wakes up?”

Roderich didn’t reply immediately. “I can’t,” he finally muttered, “I just can’t. That’s why I have to come with you.”

“Should we say something?” Stelios whispered to Mohammad, who shook his head.

“But you’re fragile,” Érzsebét muttered, “you’ll get killed.”

Roderich sighed. “If that’s the price I have to pay to save my son, then so be it.”

“I wish I had some popcorn,” Mohammad murmured.

“Look, I don’t want to leave the paediatric ward patients to fend for themselves either,” Carlos spoke up, and Alfonso nodded.

“Those are our patients and we can’t leave them.”

“But that could be said about everyone in the hospital,” Stelios interjected, “I don’t want to leave anyone behind.”

“I don’t want to either,” said Carlos, “so this is what I propose. Dr Angel, you take everyone to the front door, evacuate as many people as you can, and call the police. Dr Martinez Cabrera and I will take the Edelsteins to the paediatric ward and evacuate the children, and as many people as we can, and join you later. If we arm ourselves, we could get past the zombies outside.”

Stelios nodded. “That could work.”

“Okay everyone,” Carlos clapped his hands together, “Everyone not coming with me to the paediatric ward, you go with Dr Angel there. He’s the most senior member of staff in your group, so do as he says. Anything you’d like to add, Dr Angel?”

Most senior member of staff? Stelios gulped. That was never a good thing to hear under normal circumstances, let alone a disaster like this.

“Yeah,” he replied with a shaky voice, “I’m dangerously under-qualified for this level of responsibility.”

...

“We’re almost there,” were Niran’s hopeful words, awash with relief that they’d yet to run into a monster. His patients seemed to perk up at that, still shuffling along quietly, timidly. He was still terrified, and that wasn’t going away anytime soon, but now they had hope. If they could just get outside, then the patients could be moved to another hospital and the police called.

A small boy took his hand as he led them through the reception, grinning up at him, and Niran gave him a warm smile. He could mourn his friends and see a counsellor later- and he certainly would do both- but right now he had patients in his care and nothing was more important than that.

He glanced over at his desk; funny to think only hours ago he’d been sitting behind there, answering phone calls, telling off Stelios and occasionally being verbally abused by ill and injured people. It was odd seeing people look up to him for support and answers, and under normal circumstances, he’d have revelled in such a situation. But now? Well, the only reason people were listening to him was because he worked here, even though he knew no more than they did.

The doors were right before them now, but to Niran’s surprise, there was someone there, closing the doors as someone on the other side placed a device on the glass. And before their eyes, the glass clouded and a click resounded through the room.

“I’m sorry sir, but this hospital is in the process of being evacuated,” Niran began, stepping forward and trying to muster as much authority as he could. The child holding his hand didn’t let go, but moved behind him to hide from this stranger.

The stranger, who had their back turned to the group, laughed, a low, lazy, drawling laugh. “Is it now? Shame, really. You see, I’m afraid it won’t do any good.”

“What do you mean?” Niran frowned, glancing around for something- anything- that could be used as a weapon.

“Well,” the stranger turned around, but Niran still couldn’t see his face, only a glittering mask, “what are you even running for? To survive another few years? You could just as easily die tomorrow, and all your running will have been in vain.” His voice was slow and calming, and under any other circumstance, Niran would describe it as kind, but the words he was saying sickened the young receptionist.

“In fact,” continued the masked man, “I believe some people here might even be terminally ill. Why are you running?”

“Now listen here!” Niran was furious now, “that’s not for you to decide, is it?”

“But I’m allowed to ponder, am I not?” the stranger leaned against the door, “we all die eventually, some sooner than others, and what for?” He stood up straight, walking towards the crowd. “Everyone has a different idea, of course, but we’ll never know until we actually die.” Now in front of Niran, he rested a hand on the man’s shoulder. “We do know one thing though: it will be better than what we have now. I mean, even if beyond death is nothingness, it has to be better than the constant pain of life, right?”

“Well, maybe, but life isn’t so bad. And you could always be reborn as someone with a nicer life. Life goes on, and there's nothing anyone can do about it. I say let it; life is good.”

“You can still say that after seeing death every day?” Under his mask, the man raised an eyebrow, walking past Niran and his band of patients. “Luckily for you, the Liberator’s here to help.”

“Unless you called the police and have a zombie-killing weapon in that hoodie of yours, I fail to see how you can help,” Niran wheeled around and jogged to the door. He didn’t have time for weirdos and their ramblings, not when they needed to get out. The sooner he could get some real help, the better chance that Kim-ly and the hospital’s other residents would have.

He tried pushing the door, but it held fast, and he only succeeded in burning his hand on the ice crystals forming across the glass.

“What on earth?” he frowned, turning back to the Liberator. The man was now surrounded by more zombies: horrid, hobbling beasts, what-was-Arjun among them. But they didn’t lunge or charge or rip the Liberator to pieces. They didn’t turn him or tear his head from his shoulders or pull out his heart or whatever else he’d seen the monsters do. Instead, they shuffled past, hungry eyes fixing on the A&E patients, and Niran’s legs turned to lead.

“You call yourself the Liberator,” he spoke up, voice cracking as he realised what was happening, “yet you want to trap and murder people?”

“Indeed. Because in the end, it will set you free,” the Liberator glanced over at what-was-Arjun.

“Kill them.”

Chapter Text

“Well that’s certainly inspired confidence,” Mohammad groaned.

“Dr Angel,” Carlos sighed, “please try to remain professional.”

The last thing Stelios wanted was to remain professional. Right now, all that was on his mind was curling up in a ball and sobbing. But Carlos was right; he was the doctor here. “Right, of course,” Stelios laughed nervously, “look, you’re in good hands everyone. I promise I’ll get you out.” He meant it too. He had a duty to these people and he’d be damned if he just left them to die whilst he cowered in the corner.

“Yes,” he gulped, “so let’s go, I mean-.”

Mohammad sighed. “Okay, everyone should arm themselves, find something you can use as a weapon.”

“If the films and forums are anything to go by, we should aim for the head, destroy the brain,” Alin told no one in particular, “if only we had guns.”

Alfonso frowned, “in what universe would a hospital keep guns?”

“We have the next best thing though,” Carlos finally succeeded in prizing the meat tenderizers from the door, handing one each to Alfonso and Érzsebét before taking the meat cleaver for himself. “These will destroy a brain, right?”

“What should I use?” asked Roderich.

“Here,” Érzsebét held out the smallest, daintiest knife in the kitchen, and he took it with a scowl.

“I can handle something larger,” he grumbled, but his wife shook her head.

“Colour me cynical, but your combat skills are somewhat lacking.”

The scowl deepened. “I’m not helpless though.”

Érzsebét exhaled sharply. “Look, you just stay behind the rest of us and try not to put yourself in danger.”

Roderich sighed. “You know, sometimes I can never tell if you’re being protective or just plain patronizing.”

“I don’t want to kill anything,” Elise piped up, glancing down at the cleaver she’d been handed like it was about to jump up and bite her.

“Me neither,” Stelios admitted, “but I don’t think we have a choice.”

“I doubt there’s any human left in those things anyway,” Cheng spoke up, “so we wouldn’t be killing people, we’d be killing the things that destroyed those people, right?”

There was silence as a handful of heads nodded in agreement.

“That is probably the best way to look at things,” Yao told him.

“Okay people, follow me,” Stelios took a deep breath before continuing, “Mr Radacanu, keep a hold of your brother, Mr Wang, look after your father. I want Kim-ly, Hassan and Eduard up the front with me. Just… stab anything undead and we’ll try to clear a path for the others. Carlos, Alfonso, you give it a minute or so before leaving. Best of luck to you.”

“And you.”

“You know what to do now?” as he lead everyone back into the canteen, Stelios wondered where this confidence had come from, though he suspected it had something to do with how completely emotionally numb he was. That was working. He couldn't feel, and didn't think about what he'd just witnessed or what might happen. “Every door you pass, alert the people inside to the danger, get as many people to come with you. If you’re being chased, just focus on getting away.”

He glanced over to find Mohammad giving the tiniest of smiles and that alone was enough to reassure him further. He was a professional, and through level-headedness he could get them all out. Everything would be fine. He was still struggling to process what was happening though, and he still hoped this was a joke- maybe even a hidden camera show- but chances were it wasn’t, and being too slow to accept that would just result in an agonizing demise, or even a fate worse than death.

Mohammad peered through the window, carefully leaning over the barricade and Stelios joined him, pressed against the wall and clutching a pair of kitchen scissors. There were only two zombies outside this door, as far as they knew.

“Who’s there,” he whispered, “friend or enema?” Nobody laughed but himself, and a few people even glared at him.

“Just so you know,” Mohammad whispered back, “if we’re ever cornered, I’m sacrificing you to save myself after that joke. The worrying thing is I probably wouldn’t feel a thing too.”

“Just trying to lighten the mood,” Stelios mumbled, “you know, boost morale and all.”

“Well try not to do that.”

“Is there anyone there though?” Alin hissed, arm wrapped protectively around his brother. Andrei had no weapon of his own, and only one of his arms was fully functioning, so he was completely dependent on his brother’s ability to wield a knife. Alin knew this, of course, knew it all too well.

“I can’t see anyone, “ Mohammad finally pulled away from the window. “Should we chance it?”

Stelios looked from his friend to the tiny group of patients and visitors, then to Carlos and Alfonso in the doorway, and gave a determined nod.

“Right, let’s go.”

As everyone began pulling furniture away, Alin hesitated, rubbing his face with a hand.

“Listen, Andrei,” he whispered, kneeling down next to the boy, “if anything happens to me, you have to stick to the others; they’ll keep you safe.”

“We will,” Stelios assured them.

“But what if something happens to them too?”

Alin took a deep breath, and he looked like he was forcing himself not to throw up. “Then run. Run as fast and far as you can and don’t stop for anything. Run for the exit, okay? Try to find a way out. Only hide if you have no other choice; they might be able to sense you if you do.”

Andrei gave a shaky nod. “Okay. I think I understand.”

“Don’t think, know.”

“Run don’t hide, run don’t hide,” Andrei whispered to himself, “find the door, find the door.”

“Good, now you just remember that.”

“Hey you seem to have some knowledge on the subject,” Eduard spoke up.

Alin shrugged. “Indeed I do. Not sure how much of it’s actually true though. Never really been given a chance to sort the fact from myth, given that I've been lead to believe zombies don't exist.”

“Well, have any idea which part of the brain you’re supposed to destroy?”

“Different sources say different things, but I guess the brainstem is a good place to start.”

Stelios nodded. “Sounds pretty logical.”

“Anyone who doesn’t know where that is, like me,” joked Eduard, “just stab anything that smells.”

“Like Alin’s socks?” asked Andrei, face deadly serious.

“Quiet now,” Stelios hushed, carefully lifting away the last chair. There was silence outside now; had the monsters found another target? The awful thing was, he didn’t feel too bad for them or particularly care that they might be being ripped apart, only relieved Dr Davies and Dr Kirkland weren’t after him any more. It brought comfort that he was being spared, if only for now.

Stelios tried to swallow sick as his stomach churned and spun. This was it. Do or die. All those years working towards a PHD, and he was to be killed within less than a year of starting his actual job. On the other hand, chances were if he ended up being turned into a zombie the government would still declare him ‘fit to work’. It might be fun though, being a zombie doctor looking after zombie patients.

No, no more people would die here, or be turned. He’d get them all out or he’d never leave the hospital again.

“Everyone ready?” he asked, and the sorry group of survivors gave the least enthusiastic collection of nods he’d seen.

“Let’s fucking do this,” Alin clapped his hands together before gripping Andrei’s arm.

…

The place was overrun with the things!

It took all of Stelios’ willpower not to crash to his knees screaming as he buried his scissors into the surprisingly soft skull of Dr Kirkland, but the ex-man kept coming, trying with all his might to overpower Stelios as he snapped and scratched. He was only kept at bay by Stelios’ hand on his throat, though his hand slipped against the black blood oozing from the veins in his torn neck.

Another stab, and the monster’s jaw finally stopped snapping, those crazed neon eyes dimming like old Christmas lights. Stelios shoved it away and Arthur’s shell fell to the floor, only for Hunapo to replace him before he'd had a chance to process what he'd done.

The husk of Dr Davies hobbled over their colleague’s corpse to lunge for Stelios, and he fell back towards the rest of the group. Eduard, Kim-ly and Mohammad were shielding the others from more monsters that had joined them, most now dead thanks to Kim-ly and her kitchen mallet.

He held the zombie away by its upper arms as it snapped like a crocodile, thankfully unable to reach any part of his skin with it’s claws. Stelios didn’t like the sharp, gnarled fingers and how the creature seemed determined to sink them into him.

Dr Davies was going to overpower him. He tried not to panic, but he could feel his hands slipping. They were getting closer, teeth only inches from his nose as he was sprayed with spit and blood. There was no way to fight the thing off, no way of stabbing it without letting go. He honestly didn’t want to risk finding out who could pounce quicker.

The zombie slowly opened its mouth, blasting him with the stench of death before it stopped, unmoving and almost surprised.

“Look out!” Even as Dr Davies drew back, Stelios was shoved to the floor as Mohammad took his place, bringing his knife into the top of Dr Davies’ neck and pushing them back. As the monster stumbled, he leapt forward and buried the knife in its skull. Only then did the shell become motionless.

As Mohammad finally killed the zombie, Kim-ly brought down the last of the others, and the small group took a moment to recover.

They’d barely reached the end of the corridor when the things had pounced, raining down on them and it was a miracle they were still alive after that. This thing seemed to be spreading fast; the place was overrun by zombies and Stelios couldn’t help but wonder if there was anyone left alive. Angie? Mei? Arjun? Niran? Had they already succumbed to this hell?

Stelios took a deep breath in a desperate attempt to clear his head; he couldn’t think about the others now. Charging blindly into the maze of corridors, clinging to the desperate hope that they were alive would only result in he and everyone else dying. The only hope his friends had- if they were still alive- is to escape themselves; maybe he’d meet them in reception and everything would be fine!

But looking for them? No. He knew he couldn’t put his patients in danger like that. He needed to keep them calm, get them out and get some outside help. Stelios was powerless to stop this, to destroy the zombies completely, but there were things he could do, actions he could take, and he had to focus on those instead of playing the hero like an idiot.

That didn’t meant it didn’t kill him that he couldn’t help his friends though, and he could only hope he saw them again. Preferably in this world and lifetime.

“Come on,” he panted, bringing himself to his full height, “we have to get out of here.”

“It’s not a game, is it?” Andrei spoke up, squeezing Alin’s hand. “I thought it might be. To cheer me up about my arm. But those things were trying to eat us!”

“I’m afraid it’s all real,” Alin sighed.

“We’ll get out though,” Stelios assured them all, "every last one of us."

“Don’t say that,” Mohammad pushed past him, knife at the ready. "You can't really promise us that."

Stelios had worried about the man’s troubled demeanor ever since he was admitted, but now those hollow, sunken eyes evoked a whole new layer of fear. Everything about him said he was ready to kill again, and ready to die.

Again.

His frayed pyjamas and hospital wristband contrasted startlingly with his thin, tanned arms, shining with sweat and trembling as adrenaline pulsed through them. As he moved his head from side to side, Stelios caught sight of those eyes once more. Gentle and dull, but at the same time harsh, unforgiving. His face had barely changed, but Stelios knew enough to see the signs, the furrowed brows that sent shadows over the eye sockets. The soft lighting above did little to blunt the lines on his face, around his twisted mouth. And the blood. He was covered in the stuff now: black and rotten and pungent. Hassan didn’t seem to care though.

Maybe the overdose had worked. Maybe the young man had truly died alone that day, deep down in his soul.

“Yeah, well,” Stelios sighed. “Let’s just go.”

The group started up again, a silent, fearful convoy of makeshift weapons and eyes darting over every possible place a zombie could jump from.

At the back, Mr Wang winced and bit his tongue to stop a hiss. He stumbled, but his son kept him from falling.

“Baba…” Cheng’s grip was gentle, but solid, arm held out for his father to cling to, the other keeping his hands in place.

“I’m fine,” Mr Wang snapped before softening his voice. “Don’t worry.”

“Forgive me, but I will.”

“Hush!” Stelios silenced the old man’s laughter as he listened hard.

Mohammad turned around, taking a step back towards the group. “What is i-”

“Shh!”

It didn’t matter, because Mohammad had heard it too.

The screaming. It came from behind them, distant but growing ever nearer. Even as he stood there, new sounds joined it: the tearing of flesh; long, drawn out cries of agony; footsteps growing quieter, then silent altogether for starting up again, solitary and irregular.

“We need to hurry,” Stelios whispered, and they started walking again, faster this time and on a knife edge.

Mr Wang was limping considerably now, falling behind the others and dragging Cheng with him.

“Baba, you need to hurry.” The young man glanced over his shoulder, but thankfully there was nothing behind them.

“I can’t. My legs-”

“Yes, I know they hurt, but fight the pain; you have to fight the pain for me.”

“I… I don’t think I can. My knees-”

“Baba-”

Mr Wang yanked his arm away, coming to a halt. “Get out of here. You have to leave me. I can’t go on.”

Cheng wheeled round, gaping at his father in horror. Yao Wang glared back, fierce but exhausted. His shoulders sagged, and it seemed to be taking all his strength not to collapse.

“I’m too old. I can’t walk fast and, let’s be honest, I’m slowing you all down.”

“What’s going on back there?” Eduard had stopped too, the others reluctantly following suit.

“Nothing,” Cheng muttered. “Look, I’ll carry you. How about that?”

Mr Wang shook his head. “You need your strength. Can’t defend yourself with hands full.”

“Please Baba, we’re so close to the exit.”

A sad smile graced Mr Wang’s lips before he replied. “No point in me getting you all killed then.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Cheng said determinedly, “if you’re not getting out of this, then I’m not either.”

“Don’t be ridiculous!” Mr Wang poked his son in the chest, “you have your whole life ahead of you!”

“Don’t care. You’re my Baba.”

“And as your Baba, I’m ordering you to leave me!”

A growl interrupted their argument, and everyone turned to see another monster at the end of the corridor, past Mr Wang. Small and staggering, hunched and slobbering, the thing stood up to its full height and the group found themselves staring at Monique.

“Dr Bonnefoy, not you too,” Stelios covered his mouth with a hand as Cheng tried to drag his father away.

“Baba, come on!”

“No, I won’t let you die because of me.” He yanked his hand back, leaning against the wall. “Why don’t you ever listen to me?”

Eduard groaned and grabbed Cheng by the collar, pulling him away and drowning out his shouts.

“Wait, no Baba!” The wall of dignity and composure Cheng prided himself on maintaining had disappeared completely now as he struggled and tried to scramble away from Eduard, now joined by Elise, who grabbed the young man's shirt.

“Sir, we have to go!” the girl cried, and the two dragged him away as numbness took over. All the while, the husk of Monique hobbled ever closer, licking its lips.

“Stop, please,” he tried, but Eduard span him around before he could see his father being torn apart and he had no choice but to follow, to drown out the sickening sounds behind him as best he could.

“Quick!” Stelios skirted around a bend as if the fires of hell were burning at his coat and just hoping there weren’t more of the bastards waiting for him. In some rare stroke of luck, the place was empty, and the monster behind them seemed more preoccupied with feasting on Mr Wang’s corpse than chasing after new victims.

Another turn, another stretch of corridor. Elise stumbled and fell, almost taking Cheng and Eduard with her, and the pair stopped for a split second to pick her up, running at full pelt again within moments. They couldn’t afford to stop. They’d be killed if they didn’t get out. This was hell. This was war, murder, slaughter! They wouldn’t last long against the undead.

“We’re nearly there!” Stelios burst through the doors into reception and almost cried out in joy.

They were safe!

Chapter Text

“Yes! Come on everyone we’re here!” Stelios lead the others through the door and across the room. He wanted to yell and leap and bolt for the door, but he still had to remain professional; they weren’t out of this quite yet. And the bodies strewn across the floor certainly prevented him from relaxing entirely.

“Let’s go,” Eduard let go of Cheng and marched ahead, slowing as he drew closer to the door.

“Hang on,” he began, “has that always been opaque?”

“I don’t think so.” It shocked Stelios that he still knew so little about the hospital’s layout, but then again, he’d been too busy making sure he was doing his job properly to admire the architecture. But the front door had definitely consisted of transparent panes of glass. Probably. Most likely. Well, it wasn't frozen over before!

“It’s the same as the fire exit,” Kim-ly noted as she moved closer. “Ice and.. yup, locked.” She rattled the handle before snatching her hand away, hissing from the cold.

“Well now what do we do?” Eduard looked around.

This was a disaster. Stelios wondered just where they could possibly go now. Were all the exits like this? Who was keeping them here? Because this certainly wasn’t sporadic, this was someone deliberately trying to wipe them out.

And though he knew he should be focusing on other things, but Stelios couldn’t help but wonder where the monsters had come from, how this disaster had started, and who had set this all up. How had this contagion spread so rapidly?

The zombies had been here, and they might be back at any moment, so he had to think fast. Even just thinking those very words had the opposite effect desired- wiping his mind of anything useful.

“We’ll have to think about this thoroughly,” he tried, hoping that would lead to ideas being volunteered without him admitting he was stumped.

Mohammad didn’t seem to be listening, and he wandered over to where Cheng was leaning against the door- thankfully nothing was trying to break it down on the other side. He paused.

What exactly could he say here that might be a shred of use to Cheng? Asking him how he felt would do little to bring comfort- it was bloody obvious he was broken- telling him he’d be fine? Not a chance. He didn’t want to bring up his own mother, in case the guy thought he was trying to make this about himself. Besides, what sort of image of grief and recovery did Mohammad put across? ‘You’ll be fine, see I’m fine. I’m not in hospital because of an overdose. And certainly not one caused by losing the one person I was close to. I'm fine, you're fine we'll all be fine in the end.’

If he was completely honest with himself, when it came to dealing with loss, Mohammad was as useful as a pedal-powered wheelchair.

“Can I help you?” Cheng asked, face shining with tears.

Mohammad didn’t know why he did this, but in a moment of mad compassion, he leaned forward and pulled Cheng into a hug. It certainly took them both by surprise, but Cheng didn’t protest or shove the other away, instead, he wrapped his arms around Mohammad and sobbed into his shoulder. Words weren’t needed right now, and Cheng certainly couldn’t be made to forget what happened, but even the knowledge that someone took the time to care made him feel just that tiny bit better.

“I don’t know what to do,” Cheng whispered.

“Well, I suppose trying to stay alive might help,” Mohammad suggested, “your father… he wouldn’t want you to die, right?”

Cheng nodded.

“He died saving you and I know it hurts and right now you can’t think of anything but how much you miss them, you can’t let that sacrifice be for nothing.”

“But…” Cheng sighed, “I’ll try.”

“Good, that’s what I want to hear.”

Alin, meanwhile, was glaring sullenly at the door, almost defeated, had it not been for the tiny hand tugging at his sleeve.

“You were discharged,” he muttered to Andrei, “we could be home by now.” But no, he’d insisted they stop for lunch before leaving. Andrei could order whatever he wanted. It was a treat, for being such a brave kid!

If they’d not stopped, they could have been out of here and safe.

Andrei glanced down at the bodies, two slumped by the door, gutted with cracked, empty skulls.

“What if the monsters were here for ages though?” he asked as Alin covered his eyes, “we might have run into them earlier and been eaten! Like when we left the canteen and there was that one chasing the doctor.”

“You might have a point there,” Alin nodded before turning them both around, “but let’s just go back to the others, okay? Maybe they have a plan now.”

Stelios most certainly did not have a plan, and neither did anyone else in the room.

He tried not to let his panic get the better of him, like he’d done many times before when dealing with life or death situations, but it was honestly getting terrifying. What if he couldn’t think of anything and the things came back? What if he lead everyone charging off with no goal and they were ambushed? What if he made a plan and it backfired horribly?

Though maybe he should actually come up with a plan in the first place.

Elise, frustrated by the lack of direction- and hope- had also wandered off, over to the desk with its scattered papers, and the phone ripped from its cord. The desk seemed to be crying, snivelling, and for a moment Elise wondered how it could do such a thing before it dawned on her: there was someone behind it! Another survivor? What fantastic news!

Elise paid the others little attention as she grinned and leaned over the desk.

Stelios, on the other hand, was growing more and more frustrated.

Where could they escape from? Their weapons couldn’t penetrate the doors, and the windows big enough to squeeze through seemed to be in the same state. Was it like this on the other floors? Not that Stelios could ask these poorly people to jump out a first storey window, let alone from higher floors or even the roof.

Stelios paused. The roof?

Elise wondered who it could be. Staff? A patient? They sounded like a child anyhow, so the latter seemed more likely.

The first thing she noticed as she leaned behind the desk was the putrefied, zombified body of a doctor, skull crushed to pieces and only recognisable from its mop of black hair. Dr Kapur! The first person to show her kindness since her brother died.

As Elise cried out, her eyes fell on the others behind the desk, and the source of the whimpering.

A tiny child lay bleeding on the floor, mewling out plaintive cries of suffering whilst his intestines were being pulled out by the zombie stuffing them into his mouth. Elise recognised the monster too: the young receptionist with the spiked hair. The thing looked up from its meal, glowing yellow eyes locked with hers before it lunged.

“I got it!” cried Stelios, the split second before a piercing scream resounded throughout the room. Everyone wheeled round just in time to see Elise pulled over the desk, and the snarls and rips that quickly silenced her shouts.

“Run!” cried Alin, and the now 7 survivors dashed in the opposite direction to which they came: past rows of seats in the waiting area and through another door, just as Monique finally caught up with them. Kim-ly only stopped to glance behind her as she ushered everyone out, and caught a glimpse of her friend, climbing over the desk as he dribbled blood.

“No!” Kim-ly fell to her knees at the sight of Niran, at what remained of him. Her mind had no intention of convincing her to get up, and as she howled, she would not have lived another minute if Mohammad hadn’t pulled her to her feet. "No, Niran!"

Off down the corridor the group went, Stelios shouting reassurances and directions at them, Niran and Monique’s growls being the only other sound. If he’d had time to think, Stelios might have pondered where the other survivors were, and received an easy answer.

He lead them up a flight of stairs and burst into a room, slamming the door shut once everyone was inside and throwing his weight against it.

Everyone crouched down in silence during those long, drawn out minutes before listening as footsteps hurried past in the opposite direction to them, shrieking and screaming as they were chased by yet more of those things. Someone even crashed into the door as they stumbled, causing the room to jump and Stelios to stuff his knuckles in his mouth to stop from shouting. The cries became more panicked as they saw Niran and Monique coming towards them, though they were quickly silenced.

Stelios tried not to think if he’d recognised those voices, tried to drown it all out. He couldn’t help them.

“Everyone okay?”

They didn't look okay, if he was honest. Kim-ly was trembling and weeping silently, whilst Alin clung to his brother like the child might vanish at any moment. Eduard, once more, looked like he was struggling to keep down the contents of his stomach.

He peered around to find he’d brought everyone to a private room, bloodied bedsheets telling the fate of the room’s occupant. Despite the gruesome look, it was a good place to rest for a few minutes.

They couldn’t stay here forever though; they had to-

Oh, right, his plan!

“Okay, this is what’s going to happen-”

“We’re going to die; that’s what’ll happen.” Alin threw him a poisonous glare.

“No, I have a plan!”

“And is that going to go as well as your little plan to use the front door?” Alin rolled his eyes, Andrei cowering deeper in his arms.

“That wasn’t my idea though,” Stelios sighed, “I can assure you this is our best shot.”

“Let’s hear it then,” muttered Eduard.

“There’s a fire exit on the roof,” he told everyone, “that leads to a staircase running down the side of the building; there’s a chance that hasn’t been blocked off. It’s a slim chance, but it’s better than running around the ground floor trying each door.”

“You think that we’ll escape through there?” Kim-ly raised an eyebrow.

Stelios shrugged. “It’s a hunch, but it’s better than nothing.”

“That’s what I’m pinning my brother’s life on? A hunch?” Alin shook his head, hand gripping Andrei’s so hard the child let out a squeal.

“Well, if you have a better idea, I’m all ears.” Stelios stood up; “honestly, I’d welcome some intelligent debate here.”

Alin remained silent.

“Well would you rather go your own way, if you don’t like my methods?” He waved a hand; “door’s right here. I hope you know your way around.”

Still Alin didn’t- couldn’t- reply.

“Fire exit it is then,” Stelios sighed, “though if anyone can think of something better, I’d welcome it. But remember: there’s safety in numbers so don’t go running off on your own.”

“Can we rest for a bit though?” asked Andrei, and Stelios nodded.

“We can’t stay for long though.”

The child perched himself on the bed, careful to avoid any blood, and the others settled down on the floor, breathing heavily and shaking.

Stelios sat with his back against the door, and as he took out his pager, Mohammad joined him.

“Dr Angel,” he began with the tiniest of smiles, “more like Dr Bossy.”

Stelios suppressed a laugh.

“Quiet now, I have to let the others know where we’re going.” He punched in the number for Alfonso’s pager, leaving him a quick message detailing the plan, before settling down for a few minutes. They needed to move fast though; there were five floors to this place, not including the roof and every one was probably swarming with zombies by now.

Stelios wondered if he’d ever been in a situation more hopeless. Even all his exams put together couldn't quite match.

"Will Franz be okay?" asked Andrei, "his parents will rescue him, right?"

"Course," Alin threw him a smile that didn't even try to match his eyes.

The beeping of Stelios' pager made him- and half the group- jump, and he rushed to listen to the voicemail, everyone else leaning closer.

“Help!” It was Feliks, voice fast and whispered. “Help… please you have to- we’re- I’m in a storage closet!”

“I thought he came out of that years ago,” Eduard commented, and Kim-ly elbowed him in the stomach.

“There’s these things…” the voicemail continued, “they… they killed everyone! Me and Toris and Yong Soo are the only ones left!”

A thump- like someone trying to break down a door- and an unfamiliar voice shouted that they were breaking in.

“Stelios, you have to help us! We can’t hold on much-”

The line went dead.

Stelios looked up at the group; six ashen-faced survivors stared back.

“Are we going to help them?” asked Eduard.

He wanted to. Feliks was a good man! He worked hard and, once he got over his initial shyness, was friendly with the patients. They felt safe with him.

But trying to help them would result in everyone else dying, most likely. And for nothing at all. If Feliks had even the smallest chance, he’d have considered it, but he had to be realistic here.

“I’m afraid,” he swallowed, “by now they’ll be dead. There’s nothing we can do for them.”

Eduard nodded, face devoid of emotion, though he could tell the man was gutted.

“Do you think Dr Kapur’s alive?” asked Kim-ly.

“I’m not sure anyone’s alive, besides us,” Stelios felt sick to admit it. How long had it taken to wipe nearly an entire hospital out?

“Guess it’s up to us to get out,” Kim-ly’s voice was numb as she spoke, “you know, survive to tell everyone.”

Stelios nodded, pulling himself to his feet and crushing his pager under his shoe. Those other places, where it had been too late and everyone was long dead, no one had known what happened, and Stelios couldn’t blame anyone for not realising the truth. If someone this morning had come up to him and started talking about zombies, he’d have told them to take a nap.

Maybe if they actully survived this, they’d be branded insane.

If they survived, that is.

Stelios decided to just focus on getting everyone out.

“Let’s go then,” he announced.

...

The corpses didn’t scare him, not any more.

He could easily ignore their stench now, how they bled and messed up his trainers, how their unseeing eyes seemed to follow him, despite their milk-white film. Two nurses and a doctor, slumped on the floor in pieces. Vessels, that’s all they were But for what? A soul? A spirit? A meaningless series of electrical signals? Either way, they were better off without those shells of pain. He’d be better off without his shell, for starters.

The Liberator moved slowly, almost lazily, over to the sofa in the doctor’s mess room. Yes, this would do for now. No need to rush. He could have a coffee and put his feet up as events simply unfurled around him. The Liberator glanced over at the kettle, and the pile of packets next to it, before shuddering. Okay, maybe it wouldn’t be the best coffee in the world- more like hot river water- but it gave him something to do. A small distraction in what was frankly a rather tense day.

He’d done this so many times with ease, all over the world, but here was different. For the first time, he didn’t want everyone to die, not just yet, not every vessel. There was one man he needed to see, at least one more time.

So many things could go wrong with these missions, and he wasn’t sure his preparations would be enough. The Liberator had done all he could to protect him though, everything in his almost infinite power.

But today just seemed so odd, like anything could happen. For instance, he hadn't expected those two... Converted to start fighting amongst themselves; that had certainly been a shock.

At least he had time to ponder it before he made his next move.

Mmm, risky, very risky indeed. This person couldn’t die, and he somehow had to make sure that happened- along with the deaths of every other person in this sickness-den. No one could escape, well, except maybe one man. If he was feeling generous. If he played along, but wanted to run, the Liberator wouldn’t mind giving him a head start.

Oh what a wonderful way to surprise Dr Angelopolous!

Chapter Text

But what Stelios didn’t know was that there was very much life remaining in the hospital. However long that would last was another story entirely.

She’d almost not seen it coming.

Mei jumped back as her colleague tried to swipe at her, ducking under the bed in time to feel the thing shudder as her assailant tore into a patient instead. No, wait, she’d not meant that! She wasn’t supposed to let her patients die! This bastard was eating them!

Well that was the last straw! Mei rolled up her sleeves and bit her cheek to stop herself from being sick, crawling out and grabbing the nearest chair to defend herself.

What illness was this?

Salvatorio prided himself on his appearance, never to the point of vanity, but enough to make him stand out from the tired, almost zombie-like faces of the other overworked staff. Mei had honestly wished to know his secrets- probably expensive products, but it wasn’t like her paycheck was going on much right now, since she never had time to spend it on anything.

However, now he looked more terrifying than even the tiredest, most overworked doctor. In fact, Mei was certain no amount of stress could ever make her skin peel and flesh necrotise. The zombie Sal hissed and drooled, lips peeled back to reveal rancid yellow teeth, like a row of blunt, rotten daggers, and though she didn’t want to notice, she couldn’t help but pick up on how his split gums spilt blood and pus.

“Get back!” she cried, “leave us alone! Vargas, what’s gotten into you?”

“I don’t think he can understand you anymore,” nurse Drahoslav commented, using a fire extinguisher to fend off yet more of them. Beside him, another nurse, Bohumila, leapt forward and brought down a bedpan on the head of a zombified patient, causing Mei to let out a shriek.

“What are you doing?” she cried as she ducked back from Sal’s swipe, swinging her chair to fend him off, “those are people!”

“Not anymore,” Bohumila growled, and with another whack, her attacker was motionless, “look at them! They’re undead! Except that one; he’s actually dead.”

Undead. Was such a thing even possible? Mei stared at Sal as he hobbled closer, and she knew her colleague was right about one thing: there was nothing she could do to save him. The monsters were trying to kill her, and it was them or her now. And she quite liked being alive.

“Okay,” she swung the chair at Sal, catching his head with a leg and the whole thing came off. Mei suppressed a squeal and leapt back. Okay, she certainly hadn’t hit him that hard! How disgusting! She could see right down his neck the second before the zombie’s body collapsed next to its head. Woah, these things fell apart pretty easily.

As Mei came to that conclusion, she heard a scream from beside her, and wheeled round to find Drahoslav pulled to the floor by a horde of the creatures with a cry of distress. She saw his wide, terrified eyes a moment before they were gone, before he disappeared under a pile of rotting bodies.

“No you give him back!” Bohumila jumped in after the other, swiping and beating, but it did little else other than to get her killed too, with a piercing howl that was abruptly silenced. As the zombies pulled themselves away, Mei was left staring at two headless corpses.

She had to get out of here.

By now, most of the patients were dead, the last few either turning or being finished off, and there were no more staff left alive.

She was the last one.

And all attention was on her.

Mei ducked under a sweeping arm, letting out a squeak before dashing for the door to the ward and bursting through. She wasted no time stopping, and was halfway down the corridor by the time the zombies were spilling out of the ward. Mei’s pumps slipped and slid, and she considered taking them off, though laying eyes on a pile of organs in a pile next to the bodies of a family soon changed her mind, as did the puddles and puddles of blood.

What the hell was happening?!

Mei chanced a glance behind her to find she was being followed, and the things were managing to keep up.

She wondered just how long she could keep running. And would it be enough to outrun them?

But there was one thing Mei was certain of: she wasn’t dying today!

...

She was truly, truly sorry, but sitting on the bed was against regulations.

Angie hated that look of betrayal Kuzey threw at her as he pulled himself away from his dad and sat back in the chair. He could sleep in Sadik’s bed in the hospice if he wanted, but here it was out of the question.

“Oh come on,” Sadik tried as she made to walk away, “the lad’s not doing any harm.”

“I’m sorry, Mr Adnan, but Kuzey could spread germs-”

“What are those gonna do?” Sadik raised an eyebrow, “kill me?”

“No, but if he pulled at your IV or catheter, that could hurt.”

“You stay where you are,” he joked, giving Kuzey and mock-glare.

As the pair lapsed back into conversation, Angie glanced over at the neighbouring bed. Tino was still here too, fussing over his husband, though she suspected Berwald was exhausted. He blinked slowly, forcing the tiniest of smiles at each question, and in all honesty, just looked like he’d rather be asleep, but he didn’t say anything. He never did. Their love must’ve been something special for such an introverted guy to put up with that, especially someone with his condition. Or he was a poor communicator. That thought made Angie wonder if she should step in.

“Mr Oxenstjärna,” she began, “would you like to rest?”

“N’need,” Berwald replied, “M’fine. H’ can’t visit tomorrow.”

Oh, of course. Berwald’s operation. The operation he might never come back from, the operation that could leave Tino a widower, or give the Oxenstjärna-Väinämöinen family their father back. Everything about their situation was so uncertain, and the two needed to cling to every little moment and shred of hope they had.

“Well, if you’re sure, I’ll leave you be then.”

Angie decided she should probably check up on another ward, and was surprised no one had paged her asking for something in a while. By how she should have heard dozens of little beeps! That could only mean Stelios and Mei were being absolutely swamped, and she hoped the workload wouldn’t be too much on them. Still, rather those two than her!

Angie opened the door to the ward, and had barely set foot outside when Mei barrelled into her, pushing her back inside.

“Oh God Angie help! Quick, we have to barricade the door!”

Mei dragged the cupboard next to Sadik’s bed over to the door, before ducking over to the wall next to it, gesturing for Angie to move to the other side. As she did so, the pair heard a series of low growls, and Mei pressed her finger to her lips. Angie almost couldn't believe her ears, and she wasn't sure she wanted to know what was making those noises. The two listened for those long, drawn out minutes, desperate to not make even the tiniest of noises. Angie could see Mei’s chest rising and falling rapidly out of the corner of her eye, and she couldn’t stop her own arms from trembling and her legs from shaking so bad she feared she’d fall. They’d hear that for sure!

Eventually, whatever it was passed, and Angie sighed in relief.

“What the hell?” she hissed, and Mei turned to her.

“They attacked everyone,” she squeaked, “in the ward, and I was the only one to get out.”

“Who did?”

“Patients, staff, even young Sal! They turned into monsters and tried to eat me. They ate Drahoslav and Bohumila. Right in front of me!”

“They’re dead? Everyone?” Angie covered a mouth with a hand, “it can’t be?” What the hell was Mei saying? “Everyone can’t be dead!” If this was true, then it was a complete disaster, but what sick bastard would commit mass murder in a hospital?

“I’m afraid it might just be us left,” Mei sighed, a sickly shade of green. “I didn’t find anyone else when I ran, only bodies. I was so relieved when I saw you were alive though!”

“I’m glad you’re okay too,” Angie smiled briefly, “but what should we do?”

“I honestly don’t know, but we can’t stay here forever. They’ll get in eventually.”

“I can’t expect the patients to run, from whatever's attacking everyone,” Angie glanced over the handful of people in the ward, most oblivious to the commotion, though Tino and Kuzey were looking over curiously and Sadik had certainly noticed the noise and panic. “I’m not leaving them either.”

“I’m not sure we have a choice.”

“We do!” Angie gave a determined nod, “I don’t care what happens; I’m staying.”

“Excuse me,” began Tino quietly, “I couldn’t help overhearing something about a possible evacuation, am I right? You were talking about whether or not to leave. I want to know what’s going on.”

Angie sighed. Honesty was most likely the best policy here, and Tino didn’t look like he’d react too… loudly. Besides, he could run and save himself. “This hospital is no longer safe.”

Tino’s brows furrowed together. “What do you mean? Unsafe for patients?”

“Patients, staff,” Mei mumbled, “visitors. Any living, sentient being.”

“In what way?” asked Tino, “is there a fire?”

“I wish,” Angie sighed, “then I’d know what to do. We're just... I'm in way over my head here.”

Tino didn’t reply for a long moment. “Okay, what’s wrong?”

“Zombies,” Mei finally admitted, to them, to herself.

It appeared Angie was more prepared to buy it than Tino, who subsequently assumed they were insulting his intelligence. “I don’t believe this, is this just some big joke to you? What’s really going on?”

“No, seriously,” Mei gestured to her blood-stained uniform, “I’m not kidding around. There are people dead and these things killed them.”

Tino still didn’t look convinced, and Mei sighed before dragging him to the door.

“Look,” she growled, “see for yourself.”

Tino peered through the window, barely catching a glimpse of something moving in the room opposite, a hulking shadow, a piercing wail, blood spattered everywhere, before he jumped back, covering his mouth with a hand.

“What the fuck,” he whispered.

“Now do you believe me?”

He shrugged. “I believe something’s attacking everyone, yes.”

Mei scowled, but didn’t reply.

“Something’s attacking us?”

The trio wheeled round to find Kuzey, sitting in his chair, looking up attentively and as sharp-eared as ever. And at his comment, Berwald and Sadik looked over in confusion, panicked and unknowing.

“How much did you hear?” asked Angie. The idea was for the patients to know as little as possible, so they could remain calm whilst the doctors thought of a plan. But in all honesty, neither of them really had a plan besides staying put and trying to find weapons.

“Everything,” Kuzey replied. “Zombies, huh? That seems rather far fetched. But like Mr Väinämöinen said, that fact that someone is attacking people is a concern.” He glanced over at his father. “Will we need to evacuate?”

“I don’t think we can,” Mei sighed, “the place is overrun and I don’t think we could escape unless we ran for the exit.”

“Or wheeled beds?” Kuzey suggested hopefully.

“The four of us couldn’t get everyone out.” Angie confessed, “even if we had enough people to push them, we’d never be able to outrun our attackers. Everyone would die.”

“So what are you going to do?” asked Sadik, quieter than normal. He reached out a hand for his son, who took it in his own, tiny, freezing hands, taking in the warmth of his father, fearing the worst.

“I’m staying,” Angie told him, “I’ll try to protect you for as long as I can, but I’m not sure I could keep it up forever.”

“Help would have to come pretty quickly,” Tino commented, settling back down next to his husband. He stroked Berwald’s forehead, the man barely awake through the conversation, though he understood his beloved Tino was in danger, and that thought alone prevented him from slipping under completely.

“What about Kuzey?” asked Sadik slowly.

“I’ll stay here with you!” the boy cried, “I can protect you!”

“I’ll hear of no such thing!” The was probably the loudest the old man had been in months, and even Berwald glanced over in surprise.

“You need to be safe,” he added, quieter. “Get out of here.” He looked over in the direction of Mei and Angie; “you two can’t stay either.”

Angie frowned. “But we need to prot-”

“Protect me from death? You’re wasting your time,” he tilted his head backwards, “Dr Angel, I’m going to guess you’re a young lady, mid twenties?”

“Indeed,” Angie raised an eyebrow.

“You too, Dr Chen?”

“Yes,” Mei sighed.

“That’s a whole lotta life you’ll miss out on if you die,” Sadik commented, “same with you, son. You’re a child! And you’re my child too and I won’t let you die.”

“But I don’t want to leave you,” Kuzey’s face crumpled, and the tears he was saving for the days after his father’s death began sneaking through. Sadik tried to tune him out.

“Doctors, take Kuzey and run, please. Get out of here and get him out of here!”

“Mei can take him; I’ll stay here and take care of you.”

Sadik reached out his other hand to Angie, “you’ve taken care of me enough whilst I've been here; you’re a kind, loving lady and you have your whole life ahead of you. Think of all the things you haven’t done! I only had weeks to live anyway.”

“But what about the others?” Angie tried, glancing around at the other patients, most too sick to stay awake, all unaware of the impending danger, “who would be left to save them?”

“I’ll stay.”

Everyone turned to an ashen-faced Tino, glaring at the floor as he tried to ignore his husband’s look of horror. He seemed scared, and wasn’t trying to hide it, but there was a steely determination there too. There was no way he was going to stand back and let Berwald- or anyone else in the room- get torn apart.

“No,” Berwald rasped, “y’have to go.”

“I can’t leave you,” Tino replied firmly, “I won’t leave you.”

“Please.”

“Doctors, I think I can fend anything sinister off for a while,” Tino refused to look as his husband as he spoke, “it won’t be forever though. Help would have to come pretty quick, but you don’t have to worry about that.”

“But what if help doesn’t come?” Kuzey piped up.

“It will,” Sadik insisted, “someone will have contacted the police by now. Or even the army.”

“Is the army necessary?” asked Berwald, barely heard by the others.

“I’d say it was,” Mei replied, “so many people are dead because of those things! Not sure even the police could stand up to them.”

“Go, Tino go get out of here,” Berwald tried to lift his head up, but the strength to do such a thing had long left him.

“No,” the man replied simply, a childish edge to his voice.

“Mei, Kuzey, we have to go,” Angie hissed, “we have to see if anyone else is left and get out of this place.”

“There are people left here,” Kuzey sobbed, for once not caring that he was crying in front of others. They couldn’t take him away from his Baba!

“And I’ll look after them,” Tino promised, “your Baba won’t die whilst I’m here.”

“And what if you die?” questioned Kuzey, “what will happen then?”

“Then things will have become so dire you’ll have no choice but to focus on yourself and your own survival.”

Kuzey didn’t look all too pleased at that answer, and when Angie took his hand and pulled him up, the protests started up again.

“No, I won’t go! You can’t force me!” He tried to yank away, but the doctor was stronger than she looked, and, honestly, she looked like she was about to collapse, though from fear or exhaustion he couldn’t tell. Kuzey himself was pretty terrified, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t want to stay in this room partly because he feared what was waiting for them outside.

“Kuzey Selim Adnan,” growled Sadik, “do what I tell you for once and get out of here.”

“No! I don’t want to.”

"Come on, I'm not afraid of zombies! Besides, you have to ask Dr Angelopoulos if he's wet himself yet."

Kuzey's face crumpled, "Baba how can you joke at a time like this?"

"What else can I do?"

“Kuzey we have to go,” Angie lead him over to the door, and the boy could do nothing but look back at his ailing father and let the tears stream down his face. Sadik had settled back down, looking forlornly in his direction, and never before had he looked so small and fragile. He was going to die and Kuzey just couldn’t let that happen.

“Baba,” he whispered, not really expecting the man to hear.

“Be good for Dr Angel and Dr Chen,” Sadik called back softly, “try to stay out of trouble.”

“You too.”

Mei had moved the cupboard out of the way by now, and was peeking through the window, checking the coast was clear before nodding to Angie.

“It’s time,” she whispered, before opening the door and glancing around. Still clear.

“On my signal,” she told them in the quietest voice possible, “we run and don’t stop, okay?”

“Okay,” the others replied.

“Then let’s go.”

…

Tino didn’t watch them leave.

He sat there with his head in his hands, quivering and trying to keep his lunch down. He couldn’t do it. He would not be able to protect Berwald and the other patients. Not for long, at least.

Why the hell had he promised to stay? Oh, but of course, loyalty to his husband! And not to mention he couldn’t stand by and let the others die from stubbornness, like himself.

Tino didn’t really regret staying. If he was going to die, to die trying to save Berwald didn’t sound like a bad way to go. Dying with a guarantee that his husband wouldn’t be torn apart five seconds later would’ve been even better though.

But how could he just run off on Berwald like that? Tino wouldn’t hear of it!

At least their children would be safe. That was something.

It was a tragedy that things would have to come to this at all.

“T’no,” Berwald tried, “speak t’me.”

“Your operation was tomorrow,” the man whispered, “you were going to start getting better and you’d be able to come home.”

Berwald gave a sigh. “I know.”

“We were so close,” Tino’s eyes were shining now, “we were going to be a family again.”

“We ‘lways were,” Berwald reminded him, “me being in h’spital wasn’t going to change that.”

“I know, I know,” Tino buried his head in his hands. All the dreams, the longings to have his partner by his side again, with no visiting times and regulations and no fucking leukaemia! “I just… for months now, I’ve just wanted to take you home where you belong and for this... fucking cancer to be gone! Is that too much to ask? Really?”

He looked up, barely able to see Berwald through the watery veil of tears.

“What did we do wrong? Tell me, what did you or I do to deserve this?”

Berwald didn’t reply.

“Tell me!”

The man didn’t speak for a moment, taking a long, rattling breath. “Nothing,” he finally muttered. “We did nothing. That’s just how things are sometimes.”

“It’s not fair.”

“Y’think?”

“Hey, I don’t mean to interrupt…”

The pair glanced over at Sadik, lying back and staring at the ceiling, but as Tino opened his mouth to reply, they heard what he’d heard.

A thump resounded through the room, and Tino’s blood ran cold. Oh shit, he should’ve put the cupboard back. Another thump, and he got up slowly, grabbing the legs of his chair

“I guess it’s time,” he muttered, "bring it on you zombie cunts."

Chapter Text

How lucky was he to no longer hear a thing. How lucky young Raivis Garais was as he lay there, face distorted by the plastic tube and mask over his mouth, oblivious to the slaughter around him as the life support breathed existence into him. Conditional, temporary existence.

He was dying, and the monsters hadn’t even gotten to him yet.

And now there was no one left to mourn the child.

Raivis didn’t know where he was. The boy never would. He didn’t know what had happened since the fire, how he’d collapsed, trapped in his room screaming, curled up on the floor with his arms over his head, or how his cousin had tried to save him, cursing the day he’d made them move here. He would never know. His brain had been poisoned, starved of air for too long and the only thing keeping him alive was a robot; even the hospital staff had abandoned him now as they fled the monsters.

He didn’t know.

Raivis was completely unaware of his beloved cousin, now leaning over him, dripping milky red saliva onto his unfeeling cheeks, hungry eyes gleaming. And Toris, in turn, was no longer aware that he had a cousin, or any family at all.

All he saw was dinner.

Still, Toris had wanted to visit his precious baby cousin even since he’d been admitted. Craved a reunion. Any news about Raivis as he’d boredly healed in his own ward. Now here he was.

And luckily for the man he once was, Raivis would not feel a shred of pain as every organ was crushed and ripped from his body.

...

“We ought to go.”

Antonio didn’t even look up at Francis’ comment. He knew. He damn well knew, okay? For once, he could understand the absolute gravity of the situation and how, if he wanted to live, he should run immediately and never look back. But he wasn’t going to and there was nothing Francis could say or do to change that. In all honesty, Toni could do without the distraction.

“Go then,” he said absentmindedly, like the world wasn’t ending. Like his stubbornness wasn’t about to kill him and possibly his patient too. Then again, they’d die either way, so this was their only chance, no matter how slim. But why did Francis need to die here too? He could escape.

Just a few more stitches, he noted as he pulled at the needle, but then what? He was going to wheel an unconscious patient through whatever chaos was coming? Well, if this operation was a success, he certainly wasn’t leaving without them. There would be no point in that.

Toni’s hand shook, and he cursed his wandering mind. This always happened during operations, and if he was honest, it was a wonder he even chose this as a career path.

But he was good once he focused. And focused he had to be here. They’d all pull through! He refused to see it any other way. He just needed time to work his magic.

“I’m not leaving you,” at the edge of his vision, Toni saw Francis step forward, stood awkwardly on the other side of the operating table.

“Well, aren’t you brave.” Toni smiled, still focusing on the body before him. “Or stupid. Like me. It must be catching.”

“Or passionate, about saving lives, like you are,” Francis fiddled with his surgical mask and nodded. “If you want to stay, then I will too.”

“I’d like to say there wasn’t a chance of you dying horribly,” commented Toni, “but even I can’t be that optimistic.”

At that, the pair heard a series of low growls, and the dragging of claws against the wall outside. However, Francis just smiled. “It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

Toni smiled. “For our patient?”

“Well of course.”

…

It wouldn’t stop.

Mathias Densen tightened the makeshift tourniquet around his arm, and the bleeding subsided slightly. He didn’t want to look at it, the fresh blood spurting out to the beat of his heart, fast and slamming against his chest so hard he thought he’d throw up. Again.

But he had to be quick. Those things could find him again. Tear him apart like they did with the rest of the liver department, the shaking, spacey patients unable to pull themselves together long enough to escape. Their yellow, clammy faces sometimes too full of confusion to know what was happening until they were already dead.

He was lucky, ill but aware, clinging to reality and the hopes of his son being proud of him once more. Jaundice and weight loss had certainly ruined his body, but his mind had escaped, for the most part. And before his liver gave out, he’d been relatively fit, still able to run away in time. No one else on that ward could possibly have ripped out their IV and ducked out of the door like he’d done. Even the poor nurses hadn’t stood a chance.

He wanted to feel sorry for them, he really did, but right now he had to think of himself. His confusion was worse in this state, and when he threw up nowadays, yet more blood would be lost, and that was the last thing he needed in a building full of ravenous zombies as he bled to death. Besides, he hadn’t liked any of the people he’d shared a ward with. They reminded him too much of himself and his failures. Mathias hadn’t wanted to see them torn apart though.

He stared blankly at his red, swollen hand before it ran through his hair, pulling out sweaty clumps that he brushed onto his hospital gown.

Was he a coward for saving himself?

Mathias hadn’t dared stop running, not until the carnage was far behind him and he’d been able to hide in a storage cupboard. He’d been here since, catching his breath and patching up the wound in his arm.

As he wrapped bandages around the hole in his vein, he contemplated his next move. Well, he had to get out. Find a weapon. Maybe join up with other survivors if there were any.

There wasn’t anything in here he could defend himself with though, just medical supplies and alcohol wipes.

Mathias raised an eyebrow; well, well, well. That was something at least.

He pulled one wipe from its packet and brought it to his lips, sucking the thing and finally tasting the horrible, choking, but oh so beautiful relish of alcohol, his first few drops in months. Sure, it wasn’t a refreshing pint of beer, or a bottle of whiskey on the kitchen floor, but it certainly helped to stop that persistent shaking he’d not been rid of for months. He almost fell to his knees at the taste. Mathias had nearly forgotten what it felt like.

It was thoughts like those, he realised in shame, that had put him here in the first place. That had torn his family apart.

He was a disgrace.

“Next week,” he whispered to himself, “next fucking week I’d have a new liver and be out of here.” Then he could start getting help and be a proper father.

Well, it seemed he would have to get out and get his operation from another hospital. Preferably one not infested with the undead.

Yes, he, a severely ill alcoholic, bleeding critically, was going to outrun zombies and escape here. That was one fine fucking plan right there. He’d probably pass out from the blood loss before they could even get to him. Well, at least that would dull the pain of having his brains scooped out of his skull.

He wouldn’t get anywhere hiding here trembling like a lost puppy though, that was for sure. No point bleeding to death and waiting for those things to sniff out his body. If they even could smell, though they seemed pretty good at tracking down their victims anyway. Mathias wondered if there were any waiting for him outside right now.

“Fucking bring it on if you are,” he muttered, less intimidating than he’d hoped, before tying up the end of his bandage and bursting through the door.

The pair of shrieks and a child’s scream certainly weren’t the response he was expecting.

“Mr Densen you idiot!” wheezed Angie.

“Oh, afternoon Dr Lalande, Dr Chen, small boy,” he glanced down at a rather terrified Kuzey, who busied himself with wiping the dried tears on his cheeks.

“You have no idea how glad we are to see you,” Mei panted, doubling over and clutching a stitch.

“There’s no one left,” Angie explained.

“Those things got everyone?” Mathias shook his head, “what bastards. Where did they even come from?”

Angie shrugged. “Who knows? I don’t care; I just want to get out.”

Mathias gave a short nod. “Where’s the nearest exit?”

“Front door, downstairs,” Mei pulled herself up, “we’ll have to run.”

“Oh we do know?” Mathias raised an eyebrow, “cause I was planning to just mince out of here.”

“You’ll end up as mince if you use all your energy to be sarcastic!” Mei scolded, waggling a finger in his face.

A cry and a crash on the floor above stopped any potential argument in its tracks, and the four glanced around before Angie took the lead.

“Just a few flights of stairs,” she whispered, “and we’ll be out of here. Come on!”

Chapter Text

“The graph’s not meant to be that slow,” Luca commented, tilting his head towards the ECG next to his bed. The squiggles and beeps didn’t seem to match a regular heartbeat, though he swore the thing used to be slower.

Adriaan was pacing up and down the ward, unable to hear them through his cloud of thought as he pondered his failures as a brother. No one else on the ward paid them attention.

“I think it’s broken,” he added, and on the other side of him, Anri sighed.

“Or maybe you’re just really ill,” she slumped further in her chair.

Luca scowled. “I’m not. Honestly.”

It was just a diet. A few measures taken to ensure he’d lose a few pounds. Or stone. It was a hobby, setting new targets for himself. X kilograms in Y weeks. He loved maths as it was, and this was maths he could get behind. He’d never run out of targets. It was beautiful! It was his little hobby to get some control in his life. Luca could claw back perfection and he’d be fine. His life would be good again.

It was his life now.

He was hungry, yes, but that was simply a sign of his continued strength. He’d been telling himself that for years now. The cave in his stomach was a sign that it was working, that he was going in the right direction. Sometimes it was too much and he’d have to lie in bed- too weak to get up- running his fingers over his bones, to remind himself of his progress. Pointed fingertips traced over each rib, relishing in those neat, smooth arches. He’d wrap his forefinger and thumb around his wrist until they could finally touch. His collar and hipbones, oh they were the best! So prominent with their grooves and angles; they stuck out of his skin quite splendidly, but not splendid enough. Never enough.

Still, he certainly couldn’t have done those things three years ago, when he was broken and everything had fallen apart. He’d been helpless then, but now he was the master of his own body.

Why couldn’t they see that?

“Luca, you nearly died,” Anri whispered, “we thought you were gone.”

“That’s… you’re exaggerating.” Luca wrinkled his nose.

Maybe he wasn’t entirely happy, he’ll admit that much. Okay, he wasn’t at all happy. Why would he be though? He was starving and still looked wrong in the mirror- too fat and flabby-, and after what happened… well, he’d never be truly happy again. Maybe the less of him there was, the less his skin would crawl like bugs and maggots were covering it. If his stomach was empty, it couldn’t lurch and threaten to spill over every little reminder. If he could control his life, he might just be able to forget what little he could have done to prevent what happened.

Even as he felt a cold sweat break, Anri was speaking up.

“Adriaan thinks your attack had something to do with it.”

“I know next to nothing about heart failure,” he struggled to force his trembling voice to form words, and his fingers slipped and slid in his palms as he tried to clench his fists, “but I am certain it has nothing to do with what happened.”

Anri leaned in closer. “Do you honestly think you’d be kept in the psychiatric ward over heart failure?”

“There’s nothing wrong with me! I’m not,” Luca shook his head, “I’m not mad!”

“No one’s saying you are. Just ill.” Anri sighed, staring at the floor miserably. Why must her little brother suffer this way? And why was his mind telling him there was nothing wrong as it slowly killed him?

And why was she so powerless to help him?

“That’s just a nice way of putting it,” Luca snapped. “You think I’m insane and dangerous so you won’t let me come home.”

Anri flinched. “You know what? You are dangerous. You’re a danger to yourself and the doctors will be keeping you here until they can find out why you almost starved yourself into suicide.”

Luca winced, distracting himself by staring at his fingernails. He could still feel the dirt under them, from where he’d tried to crawl away, clawing at the ground until he was raw, though it had done absolutely nothing to save him.

“Suicide was never my intention.” Not his main one, at any rate. “And how could I try to kill myself with something I don’t understand and didn’t know I could get?”

“So you’ll admit you don’t understand your eating disorder?”

“I don’t… I haven’t got that.”

Anri was wrong. There was no need to use such a term on him when it wasn’t even relevant.

But on another level, a tiny, almost subconscious pocket in his mind knew his sister was wrong for a whole different reason. He understood his mind very well, no matter how he refused to believe he was ill. Only Luca knew the his life had been for the last three years. Anri, and Adriaan, hadn’t been in his mind as he made excuse after excuse not to eat and tortured himself with his starvation until he really was mad. They hadn’t been there when he was attacked, only there to pick up the pieces. Well some job they’d done. He’d had to pick himself up, just like he’d always done.

And he had!

So why was he here?

Oh Luca could figure that out. He was mad. Wrong. Broken beyond repair. Tainted. Ugly. What had happened to his control?

He glanced down at his hands again, ugly and ruined with dry, scarred knuckles and that colour. That colour that wouldn’t go away no matter how much he washed and showered. The most expensive soaps in the world couldn’t get rid of that horrible discoloured red. He cleaned and cleaned but it did no good.

And now he had heart failure for the rest of his life. He’d not planned it but he’d have to live with it. Yet more of his life spiralling horribly out of control. He had absolutely no authority over his body anymore. That was what his life was to be, taking medication to make sure he didn’t keel over and die, though he no longer saw the point in trying to help himself.

“I felt powerless after… what happened.” He finally admitted it. He wasn’t in control of his own life.

“I can imagine,” Anri replied sympathetically, taking his hand in hers, careful to be gentle.”

Imagine. That was all she could do on the matter, thankfully. He’d never wish such a fate on his family, or anyone, for that matter.

“I’m getting a coffee, anyone else want one?” Adriaan announced suddenly as he wandered over, and Anri wondered how much he knew, and if he was trying to give them space to talk. Surely by now even Adriaan must know his imposing air wasn’t helping Luca recover, no matter the man’s good intentions.

“Black, no sugar please,” Luca smiled weakly, and the sight tore at his brother’s heart.

“Two sugars,” Anri added flatly.

A clang from outside caught their attentions, and Adriaan’s frown deepened. What now?

“Hang on, I’ll check it out.” He wandered over to the doorway, and had barely poked his head round the corner when he was pulled forward, disappearing from sight.

“Adriaan!” squeaked Anri, jumping up and running after him, faltering at his shouts and the snarls of whatever had dragged him away. “No don’t worry! I’m coming!”

“Ann no.” Luca could only watch as she was pulled from sight too. “Come back,” his raspy voice was long beyond forming a shout.

“Anri, Adriaan, where did you go?” he pulled himself up to a sitting position, cramming his freezing feet into slippers before going to investigate himself. What the hell was going on here? Where were his brother and sister being taken?

“Hello?” he peered around the edge of the doorway, only to find Adriaan and Anri were now dead, Adriaan now in pieces as a pair of monsters ripped into him. Anri barely had time to mouth the words ‘run’ before her eyes glassed over and she slumped in the arms of the thing gripping her, biting into her skull like she was an apple.

That was it. Luca screamed like he’d never done before, not even the darkest moments of his life could’ve elected such a noise.

“No!” he cried, “oh God no! What have you done to them?”

All he managed to do was catch the attention of all three monsters, and they glared at him hungrily, dropping their victims as they began to move towards him.

“No, oh no no no,” he sobbed, hoping with all his might this was just another nightmare. “You’re not real. You're not real!”

But even he couldn’t be that naive.

There was nothing else for it. Luca lunged towards the doorway, leaning heavily against it as he bellowed out a warning to the other patients.

“Run!” he screamed, “everybody get out of here quick before you die!”

And with that, he began backing away, unsure if he had the strength to break into a run. The monsters weren’t moving at anything faster than a hobble anyway.

“Easy,” he tried, “come on, you don’t want to eat me. You’ve filled up on my fucking family already you fucking bastard cunts.” He wish he had the strength to tear them apart. So that’s what it felt like to want power over someone…

He wasn’t sure why he was still trying to save himself, he noted as he continued moving away. His whole body seemed to be working on automatic now, seeing as he was so damn useless at keeping himself alive.

As he came to that conclusion, Luca slipped in a puddle of blood and fell to the floor with a yelp. The monster nearest to him loomed over him, snarling and drooling as he scrambled away. By some miracle, Luca pulled himself to his feet and burst into a shamble of a run, barely keeping ahead of his adversaries.

“Please,” he whispered, “someone help me.”

Chapter Text

Well this week sucked big time.

Mike grumbled to himself in his bed in his now empty room corner, about how his back throbbed and squeezed at his ribs and lungs and twitched and stung. About how that pain probably wouldn’t go down for a long while even after his surgery- or should that be especially. About the back brace he’d been forced to wear for years before this, the one that the other kids pointed and laughed at. They’d spread so many rumours about that thing and what it was ‘really’ used for, pushed him in the corridors and pulled at his shoulders because they knew it would hurt, mocked him and it cruelly in the changing rooms, that it was no wonder there was now probably more citalopram in his bloodstream than actual blood now. In all honesty, Mike had hated his brace before he’d even set foot in school- holding his crooked form together before him in the mirror-, and the comments his classmates made had firmly cemented his self-esteem right at the bottom of a pit of hatred.

But at least he wouldn’t have to wear one anymore. Unfortunately, Mike was well aware that recovering from having a metal rod inserted into his back would be painful as shit, moreso than the current pain in his back. But he’d get through it, with maximum complaining.

As if his day wasn’t bad enough, Alfred was running late. All he’d asked his brother to do was get him a drink, and maybe a little snack from the cafe. Really, how hard could it be? He knew Alfred could get distracted by every little thing, but this was ridiculous.

And Alfred didn’t let much get in the way of caring for his brother; he’d been fussing over Mike ever since he was first diagnosed, years ago when they were both little screechy kids constantly getting into scrapes. At times, Mike detested his brother’s overbearing nature, but deep down he liked being looked after. It made life that bit less terrifying.

He’d like his brother’s company now. His entire ward was devoid of any staff, and he’d like some reassurances from Alfred that everything in the rest of the hospital was running smoothly, not to mention he was a big baby and scared of having his back sliced open.  The handful of other people in the ward were getting restless, some groaning in pain and Mike wondered why they were being neglected like this. His back was starting to twinge now.

And just when things were getting hopeless, there was Alfred. Out to save him, like always.

Except it seemed more like he was playing a little joke.

Just where Alfred had found the makeup to do his face up like that was a mystery, probably the Chemist downstairs. But he’d not been gone nearly long enough to have had time to paint himself like that. And his arms too. The boy had even ripped up his t shirt for this joke.

Such a shame Mike wasn’t at all impressed. He didn’t like being scared, even for a split second, and Alfred knew this. Oh boy was he going to get a telling off.

“You’re not funny,” Mike growled, huffing and folding his arms as his brother hobbled over. He wasn’t scared. Not at all. Man he fucking hated zombies and other nasties.

“Oh fuck off,” he spat as Alfred drew closer, trying his utmost not to crawl out of bed, run away, and give the guy the rection he wanted.

And that was why the unfortunate young man lay back and did nothing as what had been his brother pounced and began to tear him apart.

…

Luca wasn’t too sure why he was still running.

He was going to die anyway, right? A desperately ill boy, hopelessly lost and quickly running out of energy, that wasn’t the recipe for survival. Where were the exits? Where were the other survivors? Were there any?

He should’ve stayed with the others in his ward. Safety in numbers, and all, though they were probably still trapped in the psychiatric ward. Getting eaten alive. They were all probably dead.  Luca could well believe everyone in this hospital was now dead, and he was the only one left. Hundreds of zombies versus one boy? Those were shoddy odds, even to someone who didn’t have a maths degree.

The corridors were deserted, save for pools of blood and organs, and Luca would’ve thrown up at the sight, had there been anything left inside him. The plain white walls all looked the same to him, and he had no idea what floor he was even on anymore, or where on earth the exits were.  He was close to collapsing now. Luca had never been built for long distance- or any exercise- but now, when he’d more or less ruined his heart, all he wanted to do was drop to the floor. He was dizzy. He was going to be sick. His heart was struggling to hold on, beating like a war drum and pulling at his lungs, but it wouldn’t go on for much longer.

Just as he came to the conclusion that he was dying, and there was little point in running, really, he heard footsteps just around the corner, coupled with heavy, laboured breathing. This was it. They’d found him.

Time to die.

He fell to his knees in surrender, hands in his lap, eyes closed and trying his utmost not to flinch or squirm. It would be quick, but most importantly, it would be inevitable.  The footsteps stopped just before him, and his face crumpled and screwed up in anticipation. Unsightly. He was about to be murdered, after all, so he ought to look his best.

“Who’s the kid?” asked a gruff voice.

“Mister Morgens?”

Luca opened his eyes to find two of his doctors- Dr Angel and Dr Chen- along with a dishevelled pair of patients, staring down at him in amazement.

Oh perfect. Real people to see for themselves how cowardly he was. On the other hand, he quite liked not being dead.  “So there are other survivors then?” he muttered out in response.

“We’re making a run for it,” Dr Chen didn’t bother asking him where his family- or the other psychiatric patients- were; no need for it. He appreciated her for doing it, nonetheless. “Care to join us?”

“I would probably slow you down,” Luca admitted. The palpitations in his heart were almost unbearable now, screaming at him through his chest.

“I’ll make sure you keep up;” one of the patients- the big blond adult- pulled him to his feet, patting him down roughly before gripping his hand. “Mathias Densen; I’ll be your guide through this hell.”

Angie rolled her eyes at that. “Yes, now come on before those monsters find us again.”

...

Nobody was left in the paediatric ward, save for the children themselves.

They didn’t leave, or try to run, because they didn’t know what was going on and knew not to go wandering off on their own. The nurses and doctors were all missing, door shut, kids left inside to huddle in a far corner as the door thumped menacingly, not knowing what the growls meant but collectively deciding it couldn’t be good.

All except two, that is.

Franz Edelstein was dangerously ill, but no one was left to notice, save for the little boy in the next bed, who had been his companion throughout his stay in hospital.

Honda Nobuyuki crawled out of his bed, dragging his drip behind him to try and wake his friend. A seven year old couldn’t understand what a coma was, so as he tried to shake his friend awake, he assumed Franz was just playing. This wasn’t time for games. There was something scary outside, and they needed to hide before it came in.

But Franz didn’t wake. He never would.

Chapter Text

It took a while and a lot of non-spilled guts to compel Stelios to come out of hiding, leading his little band of traumatised misfits back into the now deserted corridor to make a run for the stairs. There was still so much climbing to do, the odds completely against him, and Stelios hated how he was upset that they weren’t in a larger group; that way he’d be less likely to get singled out.

He hadn’t even known he was such a shameless survivalist. What would give him an opportunity to know that though? Then again, he didn’t think he’d done enough with his life to warrant not fearing death.

With a silent signal, he burst into a run, six pairs of feet right behind him. He didn’t stop running until he was halfway up the stairs. Darted his head back. All clear. Signalled the others to stop. Stelios crept forward, breathing hard and trying his best to listen out for any disturbances in the corridor at the top of the stairs. Finding none, he moved to peek his head around to check once again.

Nothing.

Stelios beckoned for his patients to follow, trying his best to remember where the nearest stairs were. The stairwell off to the left somewhere, right? That would take them mostly to the top floor so it was their best bet.

“Okay,” he hissed, “on my order, we run. As fast and as quiet as possible. And don’t stop til we’re in the stairwell.”

“What if the stairwell’s infested?” asked Eduard.

“Turn, run back down the corridor, and the person in front find a nice, empty room for us to hide in until the zombies eventually break in and kill us.”

“Death is inevitable, isn’t it?” Alin sighed.

“It is with that attitude.” Stelios threw him a glare before breaking into a run. He didn’t look back as he bolted down the corridor, only tearing his gaze from the end to glance in open doorways for monsters, or other survivors. They seemed to be leaving this area alone, for now, having killed everyone else here.

They made it to the doors at the end with no problem, Stelios yanking the thing open to usher everyone inside. Kim-ly made up the rear, keen eyes scanning the lower rungs of the stairs, and corridor behind them, for any signs of advancing zombies. She kept an eye out even as the group darted up through the floors, making more noise than they’d liked as they thundered across the old, click-clacking vinyl. Up and up. Would they get to the end?

Stelios wheeled right smack into a solid body, and screamed as his arms flailed about to try and keep it away.

“Dr Angel! Steli! Calm down it’s me!”

“Angie?” he whimpered, taking a peek through his fingers to see Angelique, followed closely by Mei, Kuzey, Mr Morgens and Mr Densen. “You’re okay?” This was fantastic news! Not only were there more survivors, but Angie and Mei were among them! “Oh I’m so happy to see you!” He pulled Angie into a tight hug as she spluttered with delight, patting him back.

“Yes, yes, we’re fine! I didn’t know there were more of you though.” Behind her, Mei nodded in agreement.

“We thought everyone was dead,” she added, “and that we were next.”

“Same,” admitted Stelios.

“Aren’t you going the wrong way though?” asked Mathias, “I mean, the front door’s downstairs, not up.”

“Front door’s blocked,” Eduard told them with a groan, “we can’t open it or break it down or anything.”

“Really? That’s fucked.”

“So someone’s trapped us in here?” asked Mei, “why?”

“How would I know?” Stelios waved his arms at that. “But we’re going to the roof to climb down the fire escape.”

“Sounds like a plan,” Angie muttered.

“We should go then,” Kim-ly spoke harshly, glancing down the stairs with nervous eyes, “those things could attack any minute now. Doctors, were you being pursued by any monsters?”

“Not right now,” Mei replied, “we gave them the slip!”

“Then let’s go.” Now Kim-ly and Mei took the lead, patients filing behind them and the Angels taking up the rear, Stelios wrapping an arm around his shorter friend protectively. Little Kuzey was just in front of them, falling behind the others.

“We’re going to get out of here,” he told Angie. “All of us.”

“And if not, I’ll kick you in the shins so you can’t outrun me and be the perfect bait,” she said with a laugh, and upon seeing his horrified expression, added: “I’m joking of course! We’ll double-team Mei.”

“Right,” Stelios paused, the awful tension leaving him racking his brains for something- anything- to talk about, “you know, if I do die, or you become separated from the group-”

“Steli-”

“No listen,” he raised a hand, “you know what you need to do, right? Go up, as far as you can. You remember the little staircase in the corner of the top floor, right? The one that leads to the fire exit?”

“I know where the fire exit is, yes. It’s almost as if we work in the same building.”

“I know, I know,” Stelios shrugged, “but I want to make sure you get out okay. I thought you were dead.”

“Likewise,” she sighed.

Stelios glanced back at Kuzey. His hands were stuffed in his hoodie pockets, shoulders slumped, and if he could see his face, he could easily guess how glum it would look.

“The ward you were on, when I assume you found out about our infestation...” he began, trailing off and biting his lip.

“We’re the only ones left, yes,” Angie finished for him.

“So Mr Adnan...”

“He didn’t have a chance. None of them did. I didn’t think I’d have to spell it out for you.” Angie fell silent at that, bristling under his touch, and Stelios pulled away to ponder how peculiarly sad he was that Sadik was dead. Of all people. Mr Adnan had been his hell for years, and was on the verge of death as it was, so why him of all people?

“I’m sorry about your father,” he told Kuzey in a slow, sober tone.

Kuzey glanced back, shooting him a glare Stelios wasn’t sure what he’d done to earn. “If you say so. Oh, Baba wanted to know if you’ve wet yourself yet.”

So he told Kuzey about that incident? What an evil bastard! “You know what? Never mind. I’m glad the old cunt sheet is dead.”

Kuzey’s face crumpled at that, and Stelios’ stomach sank; well that was too far. It wasn’t even over the line, it was miles past on a speeding motorbike not looking back. The line was a dot on the horizon. And now the kid was crying.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured, but Kuzey ignored him.

...

When they got to the paediatric ward, there was nothing left but a stream of blood and a severed arm on the floor.

Érzsebét screamed. Roderich cried. Carlos could do nothing as Alfonso inched forward to examine the room, whispering for any survivors to come out. That they were safe. That they were about to be rescued.

But the room was empty.

Roderich fell to the floor, curled up on himself in a sobbing mess. He punched the floor, but all that did was nearly break his fingers. Érzsebét, meanwhile, made her slow, shaky way to her son’s bed, saturated in syrupy red and torn right down to the mattress. She reached out, but didn’t dare touch it.

“My baby,” she whispered, “oh my poor baby.” Her face stung as her vision blurred. She didn’t bother wiping her damp eyelashes or cheeks, just focusing on trying not to wail or collapse.

Where was Franz? Where was her child?

Érzsebét was cold like she’d been forced into an ice bath, forced underwater so she couldn’t breathe, only choke as her lungs filled and everything went dark. The dread in her stomach rose to choke and squeeze at her chest. Franz was gone. He’d been… no, he had to be hiding somewhere.

“The children must’ve ran,” she reasoned to Alfonso, the only person within earshot.

“Where to?” he asked, “and for how long?”

“These are sick children we’re talking about,” sighed Carlos, coming to join them, “some couldn’t even walk.”

“But what if one or two could?” Érzsebét pressed.

“Your son would not be among them. I’m sorry.”

“I know,” she snapped, “but maybe they were evacuated.”

“Then I doubt they made it to the front door,” Carlos muttered, “I doubt we’ll make it to the front door.”

“Lucky we’re not going there,” Alfonso told them, “I got a page from Dr Angel. Door’s locked. Can’t break through. They’re trying the roof.”

“Well that’s nearer, I suppose.”

“Are we jumping off the roof?” asked Érzsebét, “I can get on board with that.”

“We’re getting out of here.” Carlos tried to take her hand in his, but she yanked it away.

“I don’t want to go,” she muttered; “my son is dead. What’s the point?”

“Please,” rasped Roderich from the doorway, “you have to get out of here.”

Érzsebét shook her head.

“...De… dear.” He hobbled forward, taking her hand, and this time she didn’t pull away. She missed his hands, soft like satin, long and thin and easy to wrap around her stubby fingers. His other hand came up to stroke her hair, carefully, carefully letting coarse wires filter through his fingertips. “We might find him on the way. I- I mean, if everyone alive is going to the roof, the children could be there already.”

The doctors exchanged glances. Érzsebét didn’t move, still staring at that canvas of blood where her son had lay unconscious only a few hours ago.

“If Franz is alive-”

“Roderich, stop.”

“We cannot give up on him,” he insisted, “not until we know for sure. At the very least, I do not want to be in this place a moment longer.”

Érzsebét’s eyes were dull as she allowed him to pull her away, barely hearing the low, rumbling growls off in the distance.

Chapter Text

They did not find any zombies in the stairwell- fortunately-, but- unfortunately- there was a snarling brood waiting for them in one of the wards along the corridor they found themselves in on the top floor. The unfortunate- but thankfully larger than before- group only had time to dart past before they were noticed, following Stelios’ lead as he searched for the fire exit, or anywhere to hide, really.

“Quick, in here!” he bellowed, ducking into an open, but empty, ward and slamming the door shut behind him the moment the last person had fallen in.

Stelios threw himself against the wood under the door handle, holding the thing in place so the monsters couldn’t get in and keeping his entire weight on the thing, whilst the others upturned a bed to ram against the door. Other smaller pieces of furniture were added until Stelios pulled away, sprawled gasping on the floor not for the first time, looking up at Eduard leaning against the bed, just in case. He was panting heavily, reflection in the door’s window telling the room the back of his head was soaked in sweat. Neither man could speak for a full minute, and the rest of the group seemed just as exhausted. And terrified.

“There is a door leading to another ward,” Kim-ly commented from the back of the room, cautiously approaching an open doorway, “should we block that too?”

“That would be a good id-” Eduard’s voice was cut off abruptly as a scabby hand shot through the glass and wrapped around his neck from behind, puncturing his skin and dragging him back through the now smashed window. He gave the briefest of screams, strangled like he was struggling to speak through thick liquid before being swiftly silenced.

“Oh fuck!” cried Stelios, scrambling away and more or less tripping into a standing position as yet more of the things began climbing in.

“No, we use this door to get out,” Kim-ly bellowed, dragging Kuzey with her as she disappeared into the next room, the others following in panic.

...

“Érzsebét!”

It had been clear to anyone that the ex-couple had given up all will to live, but the young pair of paediatricians hadn’t expected Mrs Edelstein to throw herself into a horde of snarling, ravenous zombies, not least to save the man she was currently divorcing. They’d also not been expecting her ex-husband to refuse to defend himself against her.

All Roderich could do as Érzsebét writhed and howled on the floor was try to comfort her, despite her agony and his mess of a sorrowful mind. He held her though, no matter how much she jerked away, stroking clumps of hair out and not letting go until she started snapping her teeth at his neck. Shocking green eyes now only had room for hate.

But his were full of love. And heartbreak.

His tiny, pathetic knife lay abandoned on the floor next to him, his bony knees trembling, head against the wall he's backed up against as he stared up at the remains of his ex-wife, her olive, peeling skin and slobbering tongue. Tears streamed down Mr Edelstein’s face and his bottom lip trembled, the blood draining from his face even before he was dead.

“Érzsebét,” he whispered now, staring up with pleading eyes. But he didn’t run. He didn’t attack. Didn’t defend. He would never harm someone he loved as much as he’d loved his family, even if they were prepared to kill him in cold blood.

“Mr Edelstein,” bellowed Carlos, “you have to run!”

Roderich ignored him.

Carlos and Alfonso had no way of getting to him. Not only was the zombified Érzsebét between them, but the doctors were rather preoccupied with fighting off the zombie that bit her, little Nobuyuki.

Érzsebét loomed over Roderich, a string of saliva landing right on his eyelid.

“Érzsebét, please...”

By the time Carlos and Alfonso had finally subdued their foe by smashing its skull to bits, all they could see was Érzsebét kneeling over a cushion of blood. When she turned around, they saw she was biting into Roderich’s still heart, clutched in her hands like a peach. Below her lay Roderich, empty like an old ragdoll.

“No!” screamed Alfonso, “oh God no!”

As she stood up, Carlos grabbed Alfonso’s hand to drag him away.

“We killed them,” sobbed Alfonso, “we let them die!”

Carlos didn’t reply. What could he say? That Alfonso was right and they’d killed the only two people left in their care?

…

The room the little group found themselves in was also deserted, a few wards down and significantly more barricaded than the last, at all exits. The survivors were also careful to not make the mistake of standing too close to any doors, most opting to sprawl across beds- like Alin, curled up with his little brother- or search for anything useful- like Mathias, rooting through the supply cupboard. They hadn’t heard any signs of the monsters in a while, but weren’t sure if the area was clear enough to risk running for it just yet. And besides, they were exhausted.

Luca sat huddled in the corner. His hands trembled as the memories of his siblings deaths played before him like a grotesque reel of film he couldn’t shut off, Adriaan ripped apart, Anri devoured. And he’d done nothing. Once again he’d been powerless. He always was.

Luca wanted to disappear.

He’d lost a slipper in his escape, tiny foot freezing against the cold floor. He shivered in his pyjamas as he became lost in memory after memory. It always happened when he got too cold, and with everything that he just saw- and failed to prevent- well, he was more or less trapped.

“I think that boy is in trouble,” Cheng spoke up, moving towards Luca but not daring to touch him.

“Mr Morgens?” Stelios pulled himself away from Hassan, crossing the room to kneel before the kid. “Luca, please talk to me.”

“It’s my fault,” the boy whimpered, “my family are dead because I am sick and I am here.” He pulled at his hair. “I want to die. I want to die. I just want to die.” He just kept on muttering to himself, ignoring those around him as he began picking at the skin on his cheek, dry and colourless.

“I’m mad,” he wheezed, “I’m mad and wrong and broken and because of that my family is dead. I want to die too! Let me die!”

“No!” Stelios growled, grabbing him by the shoulders, “stop this right now! Stop it! Get a grip on yourself because this is no time to break down!” He shook Luca, a little more viciously than intended.

“Pull yourself together!”

But Luca didn’t. In fact, his face crumpled and he burst into tears, bawling into his hands.

“You dick,” Mathias called, whilst Angie pushed Stelios away.

“Go sit in the corner,” Mei chided as she and Angie pulled Luca into a hug, allowing him to sob in their arms as Stelios retreated to a small corner, back next to Mohammad, who regarded him in near-amusement.

“I thought tough love would do it,” whined Stelios. “It’s what Dr Kirkland used to give me.”

“You know,” he muttered, “if the boy wants to die, he could always make himself useful and lure the monsters far away from the rest of us.”

“No one is acting as bait,” Stelios hissed, “there’ll be none of that heroic sacrifice nonsense around here.”

“Even if someone really wants a way out?” the look in his eyes told Stelios he was no longer talking about young Morgens. “If they wanted to die anyway?”

Okay, time to handle things with a bit more tact and grace. “To be honest, Hassan, deep down, no one truly wants to die, and that’s a fact. No matter how hopeless things seem, or how much you feel like ending it all is the answer, there will be something holding you back, keeping you alive. Fear of what lies beyond? Well that’s natural. Curiosity about tomorrow? Well that’s human.”

“I managed, though; it’s only through some cruel twist of fluke that I’m here. People succeed in killing themselves all the time. Explain that, mister doctor man.”

Stelios shrugged. Way to make trying to keep everyone alive that bit harder, Hassan. “Emotions running high, substance abuse, warped sense of duty… grief. And you can’t tell me there wasn’t some regret there.”

“I regretted waking up,” spat Mohammad, “I woke up disappointed that I’d woken up at all.”

“Now we both know that’s not true.” Stelios watched him closely, and, sure enough, Mohammad bristled with just the slightest irritation.

“I get it, you’re an expert in death.”

“Yet I’m still not used to it,” Stelios sighed, “you think I would be used to it, given my earliest memory was death.”

“Oh?”

“My mother’s funeral,” he admitted, hating how Hassan flinched at that, “three years old. Staring at that hole in the ground wondering why mama was being lowered into it. I can still see Hera taking my hand, telling me he’d never leave too, just seventeen and all that responsibility.”

“Poor guy, getting landed with you.”

“Yeah...” A cloud of melancholy threatened to overwhelm him, had he not been distracted by Kim-ly’s harsh voice.

“Densen, is it?” she began, striding over to Mathias, “find anything useful?”

Mathias turned to face her, guilty eyes resting above lips sucking on an alcoholic disinfectant wipe.

“What?” he mumbled through his drink. “I saw a guy on my ward do this. Everyone should go and grab one; it might be the last drink you have.”

“I’ll pass.” Kim-ly wrinkled her nose.

“I’ll take one,” Stelios sighed, squirming under Angie’s glare. “What? I’m joking!” Oh, if only...

A high-pitched beeping made the whole group jump, Angie fumbling with her pager in confusion.

“It’s Alfonso,” she told the room before Stelios leapt up and snatched the thing from her hands.

“Stop beeping!” he shouted as he threw the thing to the floor and ground his heel into it repeatedly. That stupid noise! He knew it would be the death of him!

“Wait! What are you doing? Stop!” But it was too late. Growls erupted from one of their barricaded doors, and it didn’t stop. When a hand smashed through the glass, everyone decided it was best to leave via the other door.

Stelios lead the group back into the bloody hallways of the hospital, in the general direction he remembered the fire exit being located. Unfortunately, his memory wasn’t the best, having never needed the fire exit before combined with all the millions of other tidbits of information packed in his brain since. Not to mention, it was hard to think clearly whilst being chased by zombies.

He rounded a corner, only to spot a pair of familiar figures running towards them: Carlos and Alfonso, the only other survivors left in the building.

“Hey!” he called, though he’d already been seen, “turn around!”

And they did. No need to be told twice, the pair forced themselves to turn mid-run as the others rushed past them, just metres ahead of a drooling horde. And so, thirteen unfortunates had until they ran out of energy to find the fire exit, or get eaten.

Chapter Text

Well, there was good news and bad news for the running, now exhausted, crowd. Firstly, the zombies chasing them seemed to disintegrate before their very eyes, tumbling to the floor with breathy wails as their skin finally peeled apart and their muscles dribbled away. The skeletons fell out of the gloopy mess only for a moment before falling still in the puddles of their bodies.

Stelios hadn't thought anything else would phase him at this point, but the sight made him want to be sick. Luca, in fact, paused to vomit on the floor before Mathias pulled him back into a run.

Now, the bad news was, despite how they thought they were clear, the little gaggle had the misfortune to have their one exit blocked by yet another of the disgusting creatures, who didn't look anywhere near ready to fall apart.

Stelios stalled, poking his head out the corner as several of those behind crashed into his back. But thankfully they were still unnoticed.

He gulped as he turned to face the others.

"We have a problem," he hissed.

"You're lost?" offered Alin, who was ignored.

"No, there are more of the things, right by the fire exit," Stelios growled, and at that point little Andrei started crying, Kuzey threatening to join him, if the boy was actually willing to do such a thing in front of all these strangers. Carlos said nothing, clutching Alfonso's hand. Ever since they'd admitted the Edelsteins were dead, the pair had hardly said a word, faces stony and grim.

"So we can't get out?" asked Angie, "we're going to die?"

"Woah, let's not give up so easy," Stelios raised his hands, giving the crowd a reassuring smile. "I have a plan, okay?"

Mei raised a rather cynical eyebrow. "Your plan being?"

"I'll distract them, and you make a run for it when the coast is clear."

"So you're sacrificing yourself?" The glare Hassan gave him almost made Stelios buckle.

"No," he lied, "I'm just gonna lead it away whilst you run."

"And get eaten," insisted Hassan, "on purpose."

"I honestly hope that doesn't happen."

"You said no one would be sacrificing themselves." Mohammad looked angry. He wasn't on the verge of exploding into violence, but Stelios could see the outrage bubbling away beneath the surface. Hurt, too.

"And they won't," he tried, "look, just stick together and stay close behind me. I'm going to subdue the thing, then you all run past. Up the stairs, down the fire exit. Don't look back."

"But-"

"I'll be fine." Stelios would not be fine. He knew this was a stupid move and he'd probably die to make sure the others got out, but at least people would say he died wrestling a zombie. That was a way to go.

"I'll go first," he hissed, rounding the corner to find the thing still there, pacing the corridor as if lost. Lucky, because if that was the case, then whoever released those things probably didn't know about the fire exit.

Stelios steeled himself, resisting all urges to run away blindly, screaming like a baby, and walked forward with bold determination, fists clenched, jaw squared, sweat almost blinding him as he kept walking. He wasn't going to back down. He was going to save everyone.

He was spotted soon enough, the creature hobbling over with a snarl, and he raised his fists, scissors clenched in his hand. It would be easy, right? All he had to do was bury them in its brain, and he could live too.

As he prepared to stab, he waited for the thing to strike. The zombie- an old man in a hospital gown- moved forward, ever so slowly, hissing in his face and Stelios gagged at the blast of rancid air hitting his nostrils.

But it didn't strike.

Stelios knew he should make the first move before it ripped into his face, but he couldn't. It was fascinating, watching the thing up close, its teeth barely holding together in its gums, weeping sores and black muscle under the skin. The thing's nose was falling apart as it glared right in his face.

But still it didn't attack.

"What the hell?" he muttered, as behind him Angie spoke up.

"What are you doing?" she hissed, "kill it?"

"I will, I just thought it would attack first," he told her, "why is it leaving me alone?"

The zombie drooled right onto his shirt, but still it didn't attack.

"Am I immune?" he asked no one in particular. This had happened before, right after he left the canteen. Dr Davies had hesitated from ripping into him too, and at the time he'd assumed it was some shred of humanity left in them, but this wrinkly old nutsack had told him to go back to Spain every time he tried to put a catheter in and pissed himself whenever he could just to spite the staff.

Yeah, why the hell hadn't he stabbed him yet?

"How the hell can you be immune?" Mei squeaked.

"I don't know," replied Stelios, "but he's not eating me."

"Maybe he doesn't want to eat people?" asked Alfonso, inching closer to investigate until he was right next to them. "Fascinating?"

The zombie lunged for Alfonso, biting into his face and dragging him to the ground. The man was dead before he could scream.

Stelios cried out in horror as the other survivors bolted past, Angie grabbing him by the coat to pull him out of his shock. Stelios did even think until the breeze of the outside hit him, everyone around him torn between relief and horror.

"We have to go back," Carlos was saying, "come on, there's no way he's dead!"

"You saw him die!" Mei cried back.

"Yeah, Dr Angel just fucking stood there like an idiot and let him!" Carlos waved an arm, "what the hell is wrong with you? You could've killed that thing before it attacked anyone!"

"I… I don't…" Stelios shrank away, "I wasn't thinking."

"Damn right you weren't thinking!"

"Look, mourn Alf in your own time," Mei poked Carlos in the chest. Hard. "For now let's focus on the fact that we've made it out alive and the escape route is just over there!" She pointed at the black railings of the stairs snaking down the side of the hospital. "We're free!"

"We can talk about this in therapy," Mohammad added.

"A little help though," called Kim-ly, holding back the door they'd just burst through.

"Oh, right," Alin pulled a face, finally deciding it was safe to let go of his brother to drag an old crate over, the others adding various piles of debris to keep out the zombie currently snacking on Alfonso.

"Let's go," Stelios spoke up the moment the exit was blocked. "No point standing around waiting for them to break through." He took the lead once more, peering over the edge to check the coast was clear.

"Look!" he called, "police! They're here!"

With a collective cheer, the survivors began to descend, Mei leading Kuzey, Alin and Andrei down the steps first, waving wildly to signal to the police that they were there, and alive. Mathias helped Luca down next, the boy shivering and babbling to himself, then Kim-ly and Carlos ushering Cheng and making up the rear. Only Stelios hesitated, Angie and Mohammad lingering on the top balcony of the steps to wait for him.

"I think…" Stelios stared down at the others, meandering to the ground, at last free and safe. "I think I need to stay behind."

"Not this again," groaned Mohammad, "just come with us already."

"Look," he insisted, "I'm immune, right?"

"If you say so," Angie looked at him cynically, "I mean, it's not conclusive proof, in my opinion."

"Well I think it is." Stelios glanced back at the barricaded fire escape. "If those things break through, they could escape and infect the whole world." He jiggled up and down on the balls of his feet, cold with sweat.

"You have a point there," sighed Angie.

"If I'm immune," he continued, "then I can block off the exit, go back to look for anyone left alive, lead them up here so they can escape, and destroy the stairs so none of those monsters can use it. I might even find a way to destroy them too."

"But what if you're wrong?" asked Mohammad, grabbing his hand, "what if they tear you apart?"

"Then I am an idiot and deserve it," Stelios replied, half-joking. "Look, you two take care of yourselves, okay? Mo, you'll get help after this, right?"

After a moment's thought, Mohammad relented with a nod. "If it'll make you happy, I'll give being alive another go." Stelios couldn't tell if he was being genuine or not, but he'd take it for now.

"You too Angie?" he asked his best friend, who gave a nod too.

"Please come back," she begged, "don't do anything stupid."

"Like run through a horde of zombies?" he grinned, "I'll be fine."

He took them both by the hands, giving them a squeeze before letting go. "Now hurry."

Stelios watched them go. Two pairs of dark hair bobbing as they clanked down the steps, snaking ever so slowly to join the others nearer the ground. He'd worried about them being attacked by monsters breaking through the window, like poor Eduard, before remembering that all windows and doors were impenetrable, for once a piece of good luck. Well, not for the police below desperately tying to break through to rescue those inside.

Deciding it was best to get on with things, Stelios dragged what he could over to the stairs to create a temporary blockade, one he could pull apart again if he needed to escape with other survivors. Hopefully it'd hold against the undead.

Wheeling round, he was just in time to find someone barrel through the fire escape, tossing the barricade aside as if it were blocks of Styrofoam. This figure wore a glittering green mask, a large, intimidating form underneath an oversized hoodie, and was most certainly alive, despite the mad neon eyes.

"Oh, sir," Stelios greeted, running over to him. Okay, odd attire, and he'd certainly never seen this man before in his life- he'd remember such a strange fella- but at least it was someone else he could save. "If you just come with me, I can get you ou-"

The stranger drew back a fist and punched him straight in the nose. Stelios fell to the floor like a corpse, world fading to darkness above him.

Chapter Text

He did not know how long he’d been out, but when he woke up the sky was orange and he could take a wild guess. Stelios’ nose ached, thick and swollen and probably bruised, and the floor under him was far too cold and uncomfortable against his stomach. He was still on the roof, air cold through his thin uniform, now ripped and stiff with blood. Everything ached and he was half-tempted just to fall back asleep.

The evening sky was only the third thing Stelios noticed though. The second being that he was tied up by the wrists and ankles, and the first that that strange human was looming over him, glaring down in interest.

Stelios shrank back, trying to hide his fear and not give the bastard the satisfaction of hearing him beg for his life.

He was going to die here, right?

This masked being didn’t start talking though, no gloating, no threats, just stared down at him, giving the occasional silent chuckle. Those eyes were hard to pull away from, no humanity left, but more intelligence than the average zombie. He didn’t smell undead either- oh boy Stelios would never forget that smell- but he could have always been a more advanced zombie. Stelios didn’t know the biology behind zombies, because he’d not thought them real, having been raised a normal, rational human being, but he supposed it was possible. Anything was possible now, Stelios decided. Screw everything he’d grown up knowing.

Was this freak going to start talking? Because man he had a lot of explaining to do.

Hoping that maybe this was a good guy who was a little socially awkward, Stelios decided to strike up a conversation.

“Hi there,” he began, deciding it was best to ignore the break in his voice- and spirit-, “um, you must be new here. In fact, I have no clue who you are.”

No reply.

“Oh boy,” sighed Stelios. “That was your cue to tell me your name.”

The stranger glared at him, as if wondering how Stelios was even daring to speak. Then he shrugged.

“Can you tell me if you’re responsible for this?” He wasn’t expecting an answer, but it didn’t hurt to try.

To his surprise, the stranger nodded.

“So you killed all these innocent people?” So this is what searing red rage felt like. Mixed with fear, it felt dangerous, unstable.

Another nod.

“Are you going to tell me why?” His voice was thin, lethal.

The stranger shook his head.

“You’re lucky these cable ties are holding me back!” he screamed, “why don’t you untie me so I can beat you to hell and back fair and square?”

The stranger jiggled his shoulders, laughing silently once more. Stelios tried to headbutt his feet, but he just stepped out of the way.

“What? You scared?”

No reply. This prick was going to give him a hernia.

“Can you even talk?” he demanded.

The stranger nodded.

“Well why don’t you?” cried Stelios, “since you’re being honest and giving me fucking answers, why don’t you open your Goddamn mouth? Tell me why you killed my friends! Speak, you bastard!”

And he did. The stranger let out a deep, raspy laugh right from the back of his throat. It was a cruel laugh, mocking Stelios in his frustration and helplessness, mask grinning down at the pathetic ant at his feet.

The worst thing was Stelios recognised that voice, but he couldn’t quite place it. It was on the tip of his tongue, on the verge of driving him insane.

“Where did this temper come from, my dear little brother?”

And with that, the stranger ripped off his mask to reveal a calm, smiling Heracles.

Chapter Text

“You son of a-” Stelios thought he was going to be sick. “No, no this has to be a lie!” Please, anyone but Hera! His beloved older brother, the boy who’d raised him since he was a baby, had tried to kill him? He’d killed his friends, not to mention countless vulnerable people, and for what?

Heracles smiled at him, crouching down with that dirty grey hood over his now-greasy hair. Stelios used to love playing with Hera’s hair, especially when he was little, and always marvelled at how soft it was- fine, layered- not like his own thin, coarse wires. There was dirt smeared across Hera’s nose, jeans ripped and muddy, and if Stelios didn’t know any better, he’d say his brother had spent these past months in the gutter.

“What happened to you?” he wailed in a whisper.

“Do you want the full story?” asked Heracles.

“About how you tried to kill me and killed everyone here? Yes.”

“You were never in any danger,” Hera insisted. “How could I do that to my baby brother?”

“And innocent strangers?”

Heracles sighed. “I have a lot to fill in.”

“Oh no, not at all,” Stelios rolled his eyes, “I mean, you walk out months ago, everyone thinks you’ve been horribly murdered and dumped in a trench somewhere, then you show up after murdering hundreds of people. I can figure out what’s going on pretty easily.”

Heracles didn’t reply.

“You better have an explanation for this,” Stelios hissed, “can you give me that, at least?”

“Of course.” Why didn’t Heracles look even a little guilty over this? What the hell was wrong with him? At a stretch, he looked like a child caught with his hand in a sweet jar, too pleased with himself to really care that he’d even been caught.

“Go on then.” Never before had he detested it when his brother picked him up, held him. But when Heracles pulled him into a sitting position, it felt like worms grabbing at him, maggots crawling on his flesh and he shuddered and wiggled back to the ground. God, he was going to be sick.

Heracles sat cross-legged, just far enough to be untouchable. “Have it your way then.”

“How much of mama do you remember?” he asked suddenly, and the question caught Stelios off-guard.

“Not a lot,” he admitted, “and you know that.”

“So you have no memories of her smile? Her laugh?”

“No, none at all.”

“She would’ve been the best mother to you,” sighed Heracles, “she was to me. Poor Steli. Life has not been kind to you, has it?”

Dead mother and a mass murdering brother? No, it hadn’t.

“You were just a child,” Hera continued, “a sweet, innocent baby. You barely noticed, besides the funeral, and I tried to keep everything as normal as I could for you, but inside I was broken. Losing mama destroyed me, drove me mad.”

“So you came to my workplace and killed everyone?”

“I started looking for a way to bring her back,” Heracles explained, “it had to be possible right, to bring someone back from the other side?”

“Of course it isn’t,” scoffed Stelios. “Erm, right?”

Heracles laughed bitterly. “Well I tried. I researched all I could, about the human body, theories about where the soul could be. Remember those science books of mine you’d sit and read? That’s why I bought them.”

“So my interest in medicine came from you chasing the impossible? Lovely.”

“I made it though,” Hera grinned, “an antibiotic to death.”

“That’s not really what antibiotics are used fo-”

“Brother, I figured out how to bring back the dead,” Heracles told him flatly, “is this really the time to be pedantic?”

Stelios shrugged.

“Digging up mama was harrowing though.”

“Oh God you didn’t, did you?”

“Well, testing on stray cats could only get me so far.” Heracles couldn’t look at him. “It also couldn’t tell me my medicine’s effect on humans, unfortunately.”

“What the hell did you do to mama?” Stelios hissed.

“I had no idea-” now Heracles looked guilty, “please understand I ran every test I could. I thought it would be fine!”

“What did you do to mama? Tell me you bastard!”

“I brought her back.”

“And?”

He didn’t reply immediately. “You can bring back the electrical signals in a brain- or what was left of it- but the person? No. I turned mama into a shambling corpse, a brainless zombie.”

Stelios shuddered at the thought. “Well done.”

“Beating mama to death was the worst thing I had to do,” Hera told him, lip quivering. “But she attacked me and… she wasn’t there anymore. If you get reanimated, you don’t come back, you’re gone and your body just gets taken over.”

“Like what happened to my friends?” Stelios was going to punch him. The first opportunity he got, he was going to beat the living daylights out that monster that had been his brother.

“And I thought I was mad before...” Heracles laughed at that. “I felt mocked, cheated. I became fixated on death, now that I’d destroyed my mother too far to try and bring her back again.”

“That must’ve been terrible for you,” Stelios replied harshly.

“Look, wherever mama is, it’s apparently so great she doesn’t want to come back!” Hera was on his knees now, practically screaming to the sky. Stelios had never seen him raise his voice before- only once when he was run over as a child and broke his leg. He’d thought Stelios had died then, laying in the road bleeding after the drunk had hit him and driven off. That had been scarier than the thought of dying, the fear on Hera's face.

“I didn’t want to live in this much pain,” Hera continued, “at one point I thought about taking you and throwing us both in front of a train.”

“Well I’m glad you didn’t!” Stelios cried in alarm.

“Well of course, I’d just been given a means to wipe out the entire planet and had to do something with it.”

“Never mind, I’d have been a small sacrifice.” Stelios wanted to throw himself in front of a train now; maybe at least then it would all be a dream and he’d wake up to a normal life, no zombies, no death, and no genocidal Heracles.

“Maybe there would be a new life for us all,” explained Heracles, “if we were all dead, then we wouldn’t have to have to pain of life. What’s the point in this existence anyway? Why do you bother to save lives every day?”

“Because it’s my job. Also you don’t get to decide who lives and who dies.”

“But you do.” Heracles smiled curiously.

“Yes, and unless there’s no other option, I choose life.”

“Why?”

“Because most of the time my patients and their families want them to live.”

“Why?”

“You sound like a toddler;” Stelios rolled his eyes. “Because life is too important to just throw away.”

“Life is agony,” Hera insisted.

“Trying to reason with you is agony.”

“Look, we’re all dying anyway, why prolong it?”

“Because of friends and family?” Stelios tried, “good food, beautiful places, jokes, laughter, tears. Life is a wild ride; why would you try and deny other people that?”

Hera shook his head. “Because life is meaningless, everything that makes us who we are is fleeting.”

“Life and soul of the party, brother.”

“So there must be something after, right?”

“Presumably, but I can wait to find out.” Stelios doubted he’d have the good luck to do so though; Heracles was probably about to sacrifice him for his perverse mission.

“I know you can,” Hera replied with a smile, “that was why I could not allow you to die. I have my mission, after all.”

“You released a swarm of the undead in my workplace!” cried Stelios, “What did you expect to happen?”

“I created the resurrection draught,” Hera told him, “so it was easy to create a- say- vaccine to keep my dearest Steli immune. Like I said, you were never in any danger.”

“Aren’t you nice.” Stelios made to roll his eyes when a thought struck him. “This vaccine wasn’t by any chance oral. And red, for example?”

Heracles looked delighted at that. “So you remember? Yes, I fed it to you as you slept, with a little sleeping tonic to make sure you were too stoned to put it down to anything but a dream. I’m glad it worked though, because it could’ve backfired horribly.”

Stelios couldn’t believe this. He shook his head in absolute horror; “so I was just some little science project to you?”

“It had a good chance of working though,” Hera shrugged, “I mean, I found a way to get the draught into a living being.”

“Oh yeah? That how you infected us all?”

Hera seemed really proud of himself as he explained how he committed mass murder, naturally. “Indeed. All I had to do was mix in some poison. Simple, right? You die, then you’re reanimated. Want to know the best thing about the living dead?”

“No.”

“They’re poisonous.”

“Don’t you mean venomous?”

“No. They don’t contain venom, but the draught seeps out of the pores in their skin, and all they need to do is to break yours. One scratch, one bite, and you’re gone just like them. It acts fast too, as I'm sure you noticed.”

“Clever,” Stelios begrudgingly admitted. “So why keep me alive if life is suffering? Because boy am I suffering right now. I thought you loved me.”

“I do love you!” Hera crawled over, reaching out to Stelios. Stelios tried to kick him away, unsuccessful though the man got the hint. “I want you to join me! Together, we can free the world.”

“What the actual fuck? No way will I help you!”

“Come on, Dr Angel,” Hera grinned at the nickname, “you’re a smart man. After all, I’ve done this many times now, and no one has survived the horde. You got eleven people out; that’s impressive.” Oh, right. Those others schools and hospitals Carlos mentioned. My my, Heracles had been busy.

“So what makes you think I’d willingly harm anyone?”

“Because you love me too.” Heracles grabbed his hand, squeezing gently. Stelios thought his hand was rotting away. “Because you would do anything for your brother.”

A plan was forming away in Stelios’ head. A stupid plan, but it might just work. “Of course,” he smiled, “how silly of me.”

Hera’s eyebrows shot up. “That easy, huh?”

“Maybe destroying the world wouldn’t be so bad,” reasoned Stelios, “no responsibility? No long hours at work? Not having to treat my dying maths teacher? I could get down with that.”

“You know we would kill ourselves eventually, right?” Heracles asked, “when the world is slain and everyone will be waiting for us? We will see mama again.”

“I’d like that,” admitted Stelios, “I’d like to meet her.”

That seemed to convince Heracles, and he finally cut the ties around his brother’s wrists and ankles, pulling him into a crushing hug. Stelios had always loved Hera’s hugs, burying his face in the man’s big barrel chest, feeling like nothing could get to him.

Stelios jumped up in joy, laughing as he bounded to the edge of the roof. Down below, he could see the police, ambulances like toys with his friends probably inside.

“They still can’t break through,” Hera muttered, “and they cannot make it up here because I finished what you started.” He waved a hand towards the fire escape, the first few levels destroyed completely. “Pathetic.”

“Yes, absolutely pathetic.” Stelios jumped up onto the edge, arms outstretched as he grinned down at his brother. “Look at them, powerless down there! I feel so glorious! Join me. View your kingdom!”

“If you say so...” Heracles shook his head in amusement as he climbed up too. His smile was wiped from him in an instant as Stelios grabbed him by the throat, throwing them both off the roof and to their deaths below.

If life was so meaningless to Heracles, he wouldn’t mind too much, right?