This is Page 3 of Walking Dead: Requiem.
Page Three: Solitude
The sounds of undead moans fill the hallways of the Butner Sanitarium, followed by the occassional scream for help or worse.
Moreene Hindle remained in her bed for what seemed like hours, silently listening to the painful deaths of those around her and guttural moans of the hungry intruders. The smell in the air was foul, but she had smelled worse in her time. The smell was overwhelming but it wasn't going to bother Moreene Hindle, not the smell of the blood in the air nor the tangy scent of decay. No, the only thing bothering Moreene was concern for her beloved son Aaron. A very sweet young boy growing up, he was forced to become strong early on and he was more than capable of staying away from dangerous situations. God knows that in their family, he had too or else face the wrath of his father though sometimes it was in brave defiance and sometimes, like with his mother, rage-fueled vengence for the harm he would cause. After Aaron graduated from highschool, he tried his hand in the military while going to school part time. However, the marines were built of a life he could not accept as Aaron was a strong-willed pacifist. If only Moreene would have left Nicolaus when Aaron suggested it, she could know that he was OK right now...
From outside of the room, Moreene heard random noises in the hallway here and there until nothing was heard at all. She would lie quietly, as if she had a choice, and trace her thoughts backward to a time when she was free and happy. A time before AND after the damned marriage to Nicolaus Hindle. A new noise distracted her thoughts and she looked back to the door, watching as a hulking orderly stopped before her. His silhouette made her believe he was alive and checking on her, so she called out, "The FUCK are you looking at?!"
A long, solid moment of tension past until the large figure stepped into the room and was revealed by the infrequent flashing light of the fire alarm to be an orderly she knew as Afran. A usually sweet, tender, teddy-bear of a man inside an imposing African-warrior build, Afran was now a torn and bloodied human being whose face had been peeled in half. Moreene could only watch as he slowly shuffled towards her, his arms reached impossibly far towards her body. She jerked to move, her restraints only getting tighter with each struggling move. As he he grabbed onto her thigh, he prepared to lunge his teeth into her when suddenly he stopped in place following a wet, thrusting sound from behind him. He lingered for a moment before sitting up and staring back into space, falling to the floor with a solid thud. Behind him was another orderly and his best friend, Malik, whom Moreene had some distrust for when she first came to Butner. A well-built Kenya native in his mid-twenties, he had punished Moreene for the beating of a doctor by placing her in isolation only to stand up for her later on as he knew of why she did it.
"Miss Hindle," Malik said to her in his crisp, native tongue, "Are you OK?!"
"What the FUCK does it look like spooky?!?!" She replied angrily, "Your kujo-sized boyfriend there almost KILLED me!! What's going on?!?!"
"The building was invaded by sick people, VERY, very sick people who bite!" he replied.
"No shit, they're hungry!" Moreene interjected as Malik began to undo her straps, "What the hell are you doing?!?"
"Getting you the hell out... I gotta say, of all the people in this ward, I'm happy your alive the most! Now get out of here!"
Moreene sat up, feeling the circulation of her hands coming back to life through her wrists as Malik finished with her ankles. She looked down to see what appeared to be the sharp-end of a broken broom-stick portruding from the back of Afran's skull, quite obviously what saved her life. Malik helped Moreene up and together, the two of them carefully proceeded into the hallway of the C-Level ward. Malik had to cover his nose as they exited her room, whispering to her, "They're drawn to noise! We be quiet, we get to the lounge and barricade ourselves in until help comes!" "What about the rest of the hospital?!" Moreene asked. "They're dead, Miss Hindle, ALL dead!"
Malik helped to carry the still sore body of Moreene through the hallway, each sight more ghastly than the last. It seemed that the entire world was dead, from what Moreene could see by just glancing at the blood-splattered hallways and unrecognizable remains of her former fellow patients and overseers. "Why me?" Moreene began, "I've been nothing but a racist cunt to you and the other homies of this hospital..." Malik hushed her as they reached the end of the cooridoor, sittiing her on the floor before going to take a glance down the next hall. Moreene looked down the way they had come and saw figures beginning to lurch their way in their direction, having given up on what must have been stale prey. As she gave them the finger, she was hoisted up by Malik and rushed the opposite way from the lounge towards the elevators. As they ran, she could see the logic in Malik's change of heart as more lumbering shit-head's began to pace their way for them.
As they reached the elevator, Malik rapidly pressed on the row of buttons as if it would make the doors open any faster. Moreene watched on as a horde of the shithead's slowly marched their way in the direction of the only prey seemingly left in the hospital. If the building had been full of life of any kind before, you definitely couldn't tell anymore. What these things were, they were not human as their distance began to close in by less than twelve yards at this point.
Soon enough however, the elevator doors finally opened and Malik pulled Moreene inside before proceeding to press the door close buttons. As the tall, silvery doors slowly came together, Moreene waved goodbye at the slow walking menaces who despite killing everyone in the hallway, gave her a way out of that damned hospital.
- End Of Page Three. To Be Continued.
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