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 A Medical Interlude

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Phlegm

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Number of posts : 753
Registration date : 2007-04-26

PostSubject: A Medical Interlude   Tue 24 Mar - 12:24:06

A Medical Interlude

Now we decided to split up; Eddie, with his Ivan-magnet buttocks, like the true petrol head he is wanted to scout the garage on the far bank and took his chances with a solo run across the pedestrian river crossing. Ivan took over driving, writhing briefly in pleasure as he settled in Eddie’s still warm seat.

We continued up river towards the still open bridge, but as this was close to the hospital, I persuaded everyone that here was an excellent chance to do some of that looting we had failed so miserably at during our visit to the police station.

We divided our forces further; Harley drew up his artic near the main entrance with Holly and Kettle on guns, whilst Ivan pulled up close to a fire escape that we had decided we would use to enter the building.

We scuttled up the ladder. I led, followed by the mysterious newcomer who I had christened ‘Flask’ and Pavlova brought up the rear. Ivan remained by the van with the spare rifle, guarding the wounded Davi and his daughter in the back. The Dyker Bikers spread out, in particular entering the four storey buildings on the other side of the street where we feared more snipers might lurk.

The first of many shocks of the day fell to Petrova alone: Our mute friend may yet acquire another nickname, as from her vantage point below him she was treated to an eyeful of one eyed monster: yes in future he will be known to her as ‘Commando’. Second shock of the day was just for me, a rung on the fire escape broke and I narrowly avoided a nasty case of plummeting, which can ruin your whole day.

Checking each landing we could see that zombies were liberally scattered through the building, and we continued right to the top without entering. From the roof, we could see the distant communist township, noteworthy for the large number of vehicles and troop activity that did not bode well for our NAZI friends at Pallet. Still, never mind eh?

We entered the hospital from a bloody stairwell that took us onto the wards on the top floor and we began our systematic search for goodies, taking care to avoid the odd shuffling corpse. We descended to the next floor and began finding what we were looking for: morphine and other drugs, fire extinguishers, bandages and med kits.

Well with all these dead medical staff around the place and our mission successfully accomplished, I felt a little r & r was in order and proposed a game of doctors and nurses to Petrova. Surprisingly, she was minded to accept on this occasion, so I can add the curing of lesbianism to the list of my powers. We adjourned to a private room and enjoyed a few moments of humanity amongst the destruction. Flask was on guard outside, although he interpreted this duty as requiring him to stand with a stethoscope to the door.

Meanwhile outside, whilst we did the dangerous stuff* our colleagues were lazing the day away, interrupted only by a brief CB contact from the absent Eddie, when they spotted a vehicle approaching the bridge, a lorry with machine guns much like our own. From the direction they came from there could be little doubt that this was part of the local red army. Harley sounded the horn in alarm and the communists immediately opened fire, sending Harley tumbling for cover as his windscreen disintegrated.

*No protection was available

Our half inch machine guns replied and Harley picked off the driver with his first shot, meanwhile a score of red troops tumbled out of the back and began advancing, firing as they came. Ivan took position by a container near some roadworks and laid down fire with his rifle and the dyker bykers over the road also engaged.

Back on the sixth floor, I was just finishing a cigarette* when we heard the horn and heavy firing. Zipping up, I changed weapons to Tinkerbell and took the situation in at a glance from the window. I got off a couple of quick shots, killing one and wounding another who stumbled into the arms of a dyker byker who brained the luckless commie.

* Hey I may be quick, but it’s all about the quality.

Petrova, still stunned by the ravishing of her life somehow managed to compose herself enough draw her magnum and watch my back, no doubt bathed in an adoring glow. A number of zombies, attracted apparently by the racket from my noisy silenced rifle began to threaten my position.* Trying not to make any further noise, Petrova diced two with her machete, whilst the heads of the remainder inexplicably exploded when Flask gave them a withering stare.

*Not my favourite position of the day

A second vehicle was now rumbling over the bridge, making our position look even more perilous; this vehicle was also disgorging armed men and was equipped with a grenade launcher. I put some shots into the cab area, killing the launcher operator who in dieing triggered off a fusillade of missiles which scattered in an arc around the vehicle felling a dozen or more communists, but also catching a couple of our own, including Ivan.

The explosions triggered a great wail from zombies everywhere, so cacophonous that the whole battle ground seemed to freeze for a moment as the sound from uncounted undead throats flooded the hospital and the surrounding area. A tidal wave of the undead burst forth from the hospital main entrance, and suddenly the zombie horde was the greater enemy for both sides. Kettle began hosing heavy machine gun fire at the new threat and body parts flew everywhere as despite his ineptitude with the weapon, even he could barely miss the packed mass of rotting flesh.

Back on level six we had decided after a brief vote to leave, unfortunately, the stairwell was filling with zombies approaching from the floors above and below. I grabbed Flask who was in a bit of a daze, choosing this moment to drop the flask for which I had named him and curling up on the floor, but he resisted and I only succeeded (for the second time that day) in disrobing a comrade, though this was not the pleasant experience the first had been.

Outside, the communist survivors, many of them wounded were falling back, some of them fighting off zombies hand to hand. A manhole cover near the lorry began to tremble ominously, and Harley, sounding his horn again rolled the vehicle forward to seal the sewer exit with one of its great wheels.

Upstairs, we were racing for the fire escape, but the zombie horde was closing too fast. Petrova gestured that she would use a fire extinguisher as an improvised grenade and I slung Tinkerbell and cocked Alice, figuring a shotgun blast would guarantee a solid hit.
But then a tremendous wave of force struck all of us including the zombies who did their exploding heads trick. We were literally bowled over and Alice flew out of the window,* but the way was now clear and we raced for the fire escape and began to descend rapidly, eschewing the rungs in favour of the rapid though hand shredding slide technique, hanging on loosely to the sides of the escape and applying pressure to brake only.

*Possibly in pursuit of a delayed rabbit

As we slid in wracking pain, we noticed an ominous sound: The sound of heavy calibre machine guns not firing. Down below the gun barrels were red hot and Harley had no choice (or so he later claimed) but to pull out.* He chundered through a few zombies and crossed the bridge, following the retreating commie vehicle.

*Unlike myself earlier

We reached the ground, Flask first and he leapt into the driving seat and started the van and stalled it, demonstrating his total lack of competence in that department. He did however manage to stop little Lola who was screaming in panic at our plight, putting her into some sort of trance. We piled in and with a grinding of gears that completely and comprehensively confirmed his non candidacy to replace Jeremy Clarkson on top gear, we lurched off.

I ordered him to stop as we drew up by Ivan’s body and I jumped down, drawing Thaddeus. A quick check of his neck revealed a faint pulse but before I could pull him into the van I had some business to take care of in the shape of four zombies. Thaddeus dealt with that issue with four well placed .44 slugs and I dragged Ivan into the van crashing through the back doors for the second time that day,* but again, not as pleasantly as the first time.

*It’s what Ivan would have wanted

Flask took off again, managing somehow to collide with an obstacle that I’m sure he would have told us swerved into our path had he been able to speak and we drove on to the farm, heading after the distant trail of dust that marked our so called friends’ passage. Flask’s driving was if anything now worse as the steering column had been dislodged and had wedged him in his seat. This meant that the van did not always steer in the direction expected, and as Flask was already probably trying to point the van in another direction altogether, the cumulative effect was an extremely bumpy ride.

This probably explained my failure to stabilise Ivan, who sadly died as I extracted the brick fragment from his skull. Not the first but certainly the last time an item ending in ‘ick’ had been pulled from his face I guess, but I couldn’t help feeling a pang of guilt: after all the grenade that had killed him had been fired as a result of my shot killing the enemy gunner. Still, I guess he would have been firing grenades at him any way.

Back safely at base and Harley is all for salvaging the machine gun off the wrecked communist lorry, Eddie will no doubt need help in repairing the van, I need some more henchmen and to get my production line running again.

The lovely and newly heterosexual Petrova may also need further gang members, having carelessly lost a few, including one that she shot in the face herself for borrowing her hip flask without permission. Poor George, still, never come between a woman and her whisky, a useful lesson to us all. We may also be able to explore business opportunities together, after all I will soon have product that needs transportation, and I know that she’s always happy to offer me a ride.

21.3.15
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