The suburbs lay broken in the gray morning. Houses gutted. Windows smashed. Roof beams showed in the light. The streets split open. Asphalt curled at the edges. Weeds pushed through the cracks. A hungry dog walked past and did not look back.
A fat man ran. His chest heaved and sweat poured down his face. Five gave chase. No longer neighbors, but something else. They bared their teeth. They carried pipes, bats and knives.
He stumbled, fell. They were on him before he could rise. One blow cracked his back. Another broke his arm. Then only the wet rhythm of metal and wood.
They stripped him bare before he went still.
Ron Lloyd stood in his kitchen, looking out through the tattered blinds. Filthy. Bearded. Eyes sunk from weeks of no sleep.
He squeezed a tube of green paste into a pan, the sludge hissing as it hit the metal. A camping stove hissed faintly, little blue flame steady in the ruin.
The phone rang. Sharp. Alien in the silence.
Ron froze. He stared at the old receiver like it had crawled out of a grave.
He picked up. “Hello?” His voice trembled.
“Ronald Lloyd?”
“Who’s speaking?”
“The government.”
“What government?”
“The New Government. Are you Ronald Lloyd?”
“Yes. This is Ron Lloyd.”
“You have been ordered back to work.”
“What? How is that possible?”
“Just is. You start right away.”
“Are you out of your mind? I go out there, I’ll get killed.”
“We’ll be sending a car over to pick you up.”
Ron rubbed his face. “Hang on. I thought civilization was over.”
“Nope. It’s back up again.”
The line clicked dead.
Ron lowered the receiver. “What the hell am I supposed to…” He shook the phone. “Hello?” Nothing.
He looked down at himself. Milk cartons tied to his feet with string. Jeans dark with filth. A sweat-stained T-shirt: Don’t Worry, Beer Happy.
Upstairs, he opened the closet. A dusty old, ripped suit hung limp. He pulled it free. He looked at the badge still clipped to the lapel.
RON LLOYD: HOSPITAL ADMINISTRATOR.
He sighed.
A few days later, he rode in the back of a Crown Victoria. The suit hung from his shoulders like rags. Two men sat in front. Outside, the city burned. Fires in the streets. Rioters in the smoke.
Ron leaned forward. “Excuse me. Are you sure it’s safe to be driving through here? The guys took a different route yesterday.”
The driver said, “Mr. Lloyd, I can assure you we have taken every—”
A burning head smashed through the window. It landed in Ron’s lap.
He screamed. “Aghhh!” He flung it back into the street.
The driver sighed. “Stay calm please.”
Ron slapped at his pants. His crotch smoked. Fire had caught. He beat it out with frantic hands.
The car rolled on.
They stopped at Hope Regional Hospital. The building loomed brown and skeletal, windows cracked or boarded with tin. Sandbags and rusted cars stacked into a barricade at the entrance. Barbed wire sagged from poles, looped in jagged spirals.
Guards stood along the wall, rifles ready. Helmets caught the sun, visors blackened their eyes. The air stank of diesel and burned plastic.
Inside the car, one of the men turned in his seat. His mustache slumped sideways, unnatural, as if it had melted. “We will be back this evening to transport you, Mr. Lloyd.”
Ron stared at the mustache. Hypnotized. “Have a nice mustache,” he said. “Bye.”
Inside, the hospital sweated. The walls were damp, the air heavy with mold and bleach. Paint peeled in long curls, exposing gray plaster underneath. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, some flickering, others dead, leaving half the hall in shadow.
On the second floor, Marlene sat at her computer. Late twenties. Pale. Her body puffed from bad food, bad air, long hours. Hair limp on her forehead. She looked near death, though her fingers still tapped the keys, slow and stubborn, as if the work itself kept her alive.
“Good morning, Marlene. You look different today. New hairstyle?” Ron said.
She didn’t look up. “I got lice again.”
“Sorry to hear that. Hey, did someone crank the heat? It’s really hot in here.”
“I don’t feel anymore.”
They stared at each other. Long silence.
Ron shifted. “Any calls?”
“Phone lines are down again. There are rats in the ceiling.”
Ron nodded. His shoulders dropped. “I’ll get someone on it. Thank you, Marlene.”
The boardroom was dim. Ron flicked the switch. Fluorescents hummed, half stuttering, the rest dead.
Light revealed Gordon at the table, plucking nose hairs with shaking fingers.
The room was wrecked. Broken hairs. A long table scarred with burns, one corner propped up on bricks. Cracked blinds hung in strips, letting in pale slats of light. Old papers littered the floor. A potted plant lay tipped in the corner, soil spilled.
“Gordon? What are you doing in the dark?” Ron asked.
“Jesus, what’s with the interrogation?”
Ron muttered, “And the day begins.”
Mary entered. She looked healthy despite the circumstances. She moved like she had survived worse. Gordon stared at her.
“Morning, Mary,” Ron said.
Gordon grinned. “Nurse Sheldon. Lady in red.”
“I’m not wearing red.”
“You know what I mean.”
“No. I don’t actually.”
Ron cleared his throat. “So. How is everyone feeling about our first week back? Positive?”
Mary snorted. “Let’s see. I only have one staff nurse. Rats in the ER. Attacked by a stray dog in the woman’s bathroom. But hey, I don’t have to scrounge for food anymore.”
Gordon leaned in. “Let me ask you guys something. What did you really eat out there?”
“Pigeons, bugs and dirt, like everyone else,” Mary said. “Why? What did you eat?”
Ron looked at him. “Yeah, what did you eat?”
Gordon blinked fast. “Uh. I just… you were… that’s all.”
Ron frowned. “What?”
Ron loosened his tie. “Why is it so hot in here?”
Mary wiped her brow. “Definitely too warm. And there’s a weird odor on the main floor.”
“Has anyone checked the thermostat? Of course not,” Ron said.
Ron left the room, Mary and Gordon followed.
“Maybe you should wear more perfume,” Gordon said.
Mary snapped, “Maybe you should wear a different face.”
“You point out the guy, I’ll get the face,” Gordon said.
The reception pressed down like a furnace. Ron fiddled with the thermostat; it crumbled in his hands. Marlene sat staring at a smashed computer screen.
“Jesus, it’s over ninety degrees,” Ron said. “Marlene, please call Larry in maintenance.”
“Perfect temperature for a real man,” Gordon said.
Marlene handed Ron a fax.
Ron took it. “Thank you, Marlene.”
She turned and walked straight through the glass wall. The pane exploded around her, shards bursting across the floor. She didn’t flinch. Didn’t break stride.
Ron whispered, “I’m worried about her.”
Mary said, “She doesn’t seem any different to me.”
Ron rubbed his temples. “Yeah, I guess you’re right.”
Dr. Wonderland, late forties and unshaven, wandered over. Light hit him at a strange angle and Ron and Mary shielded their eyes. Gordon’s jaw dropped.
“Oh, come on!” Ron groaned.
“Good lord, it’s huge!” Gordon blurted.
“What is,” Wonderland asked blankly.
“Your penis is… out, Dr. Wonderland.”
The doctor looked down, startled, and fumbled himself back into his pants. “Son of a! Sorry. I’m running on very little sleep these days. Well. That was embarrassing.”
Ron buried his face in his hands. “I can’t run a hospital this way!”
“Ron, I’m sorry. I had just used it, and I forgot to put it back. It won’t happen again. Maybe don’t tell HR.”
“There is no HR,” Mary said.
“Okay let’s just focus here, people,” Ron said.
Ron leafed through his briefings, papers sticking in the heat. “Oh, great news,” he said. “The MRI machine is arriving today. We’re finally becoming a real hospital. And Dr. Wonderland, I got you some more help. I’m expecting Dr. Ting any second now.”
“Ting,” Wonderland said, rolling the name around like it tasted off. “Weird name. Never heard of him.”
“You wouldn’t have,” Ron said. “He’s a bird veterinarian. He’s all I could find for the time being.”
Wonderland squinted. “A bird veterinarian? Ron, come on, I’m a professional.”
“Professional?!” Ron’s voice cracked. “You just came to a staff meeting exposed!”
Wonderland thought about this for a moment, weighing it like a point of debate. Then he shrugged. “You’ve won the battle, not the war.”
“I am not at war with your penis!” Ron snapped. He stopped, steadied his voice. “Look… okay. Where was I? Right. We still need access to the pharmacy in the blocked wing. Those drugs could be salvageable.”
“I’ll do it,” Wonderland said.
“No,” Ron told him. “That wing hasn’t been cleared yet. It’s too dangerous and I can’t afford to lose any staff. I’m going to see if they can clear it today—”
But Wonderland was already walking away, his lab coat flapping. “Later, Chachos.”
“Wait! We just got started,” Ron said.
“Patients to see, staff to run.”
“You have no staff!” Ron shouted after him, but Wonderland was already gone.
Gordon went to the small fridge and pulled out a sandwich from one of the red Organ Donor coolers. Mary watched him, arms crossed.
“Hey,” she said. “Aren’t we supposed to have the emergency ward running by now?”
“Yeah,” Ron muttered. “Somehow. I don’t know. These guys think they can just send faxes full of directives, and I’m supposed to magically make them happen.”
Mary pointed at the sheet of paper in his hand. “What does that one say?”
Ron squinted at the faded type. “Hire more staff, blah, blah, blah. Importance of babies, get society back up and running. Uh… due to the ongoing food crisis, cannibalism is becoming a major problem and will not be tolerated. Anyone caught will be lethally injected.”
Gordon choked on his sandwich, coughing violently.
“Are you alright?” Mary asked.
Gordon tossed the sandwich in the garbage and forced a smile. “Yep. Never been better. Just excited to be back at work.”
Ron checked his watch. “Where is this Dr. Ting anyway? He should have been here by now. I’m going to go look for him.”
“Good idea,” Gordon said. “Now me and Mary can get down to business.”
Mary bolted from the area.
Out in the hallway, the hospital heaved with heat. Nurses and doctors crossed back and forth, their scrubs soaked through, faces shining with sweat. Ron searched among them for Dr. Ting. He stopped at the thermostat. One hundred degrees.
“Son of a—” he muttered.
Marlene drifted past, sweat rolling down her face.
“Marlene, have you seen Dr. Ting?” Ron asked.
“Maybe,” she said. “Since I don’t know what he looks like.”
“Did you call Larry about the heat?”
“Doesn’t sound like something I’d do. Maybe the old Marlene… nope, she wouldn’t care either.”
She vanished down the corridor before Ron could answer.
Ron scanned the hall and froze. Under a gurney crouched a man in his forties. Skinny, clothes in tatters, thick glasses smeared with fingerprints. He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks. His whole body radiated paranoia.
“Oh, hello,” Ron said carefully. “Are you… Dr. Ting?”
“Yes!” The man’s voice cracked.
“I’ve been looking all over for you.”
Sweat ran down Ting’s face, blurring the smudges on his lenses.
“It’s so hot…” Ting muttered.
“I’m working on that,” Ron said. “It’s okay. You’re safe here. You can come out.”
Ting eyed him with suspicion, then rose slowly. He edged along the wall, back pressed to it as if waiting for attack.
“I’m Ron Lloyd, Hospital Administrator. Glad to have you on board.”
“We’re all doomed!” Ting blurted.
“Well, we like to think a bit more positive around here,” Ron said, forcing a smile.
Just then Gordon appeared.
“Gordon, please fill in Dr. Ting about his duties and take him to see Dr. Wonderland while I find Larry and figure out why this place is so damn hot.”
“Sure,” Gordon said. He reached out a hand. “Here, hold my hand, Dr. Ting.”
“No.”
“He’s not blind, Gordon!” Ron shouted after them.
From the hallway came Gordon’s cheerful voice. “This way Dr. Ting, hold on tight.”
Another weary “No” drifted back.
Ron moved down the corridor, peering into rooms as he passed. In one, a woman lay in labor, her face pale, her hands gripping the sheets. Smoke drifted up from between her legs, curling into the air behind the drape.
For a moment, Ron thought he saw Wonderland crouched there, a cigarette dangling from his mouth. Ron blinked, did a double take, and the doctor was gone. He kept walking.
A moment later, Dr. Wonderland strolled out, brushing ash from his coat, cigarette dangling from his lips. He headed straight for a guard at the end of the hall.
“I need access to the wing with all the drugs in it,” Wonderland said.
“We’re still working on it. And I’m sorry, doctor, but smoking has been banned by the New Government.”
“They’re ultra lights.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
Wonderland narrowed his eyes. “I lied. It’s not a cigarette.”
The guard didn’t blink. “Sir, I’m looking right at it.”
Wonderland tossed the cigarette in a trash can.
Footsteps. Gordon came around the corner, holding Dr. Ting’s hand like a guide. “Dr. Wonderland? This is Dr. Ting, the bird veterinarian. He’ll be assisting you.”
Wonderland nodded once. “Excellent. We have much work to do. So, you’re a veterinarian?”
“Only birds,” Ting said.
“Well, I don’t have much respect for that sort of work. But I like the way you walk. Confident. Your breath stinks though.”
“Nothing matters anymore,” Ting said.
Meanwhile nearby, smoke rose from the trash can.
The boiler room stank of rot and ash. The heat pressed down, heavy and sour. Rusted pipes crawled across the walls, sweating dark streaks. Chains hung from hooks, rattling when the furnace roared. Ash drifted across the floor in gray piles.
Larry, the janitor, heaved the stiff body of an old woman into the furnace. Her skin was waxy, her hands curled tight. Her face was frozen in a strange smile, teeth black in the glow.
The flames swallowed her. The smell thickened.
Ron shouted, “Larry! What the hell are you doing?”
Larry lifted another corpse. “What?”
“You can’t heat the hospital with dead bodies!”
Larry groaned. “Mr. Lloyd, what do you want me to do? These bodies are everywhere. I can’t take it no more.” He wiped his face. “Plus, the hospital needs heat, so I thought I’d throw two and two together.”
Ron’s voice rose. “Larry, it’s a goddamn sauna up there!”
“Gordon told me it was cold.”
“I am the hospital administrator, not Gordon. Put the dead guy down.”
Larry let the corpse thud on the concrete. He walked away. “You’re the boss.”
Dr. Wonderland and Dr. Ting stood at the door of the hospital wing marked with a sign: DANGER! FOR GOD’S SAKE DO NOT ENTER! The door was bolted shut.
Wonderland hefted a fireman’s ax and hacked at the lock until it snapped loose. Ting trembled at his side, nerves shot. Wonderland grabbed him by the arm and pulled him inside.
The hallway beyond was dark and eerie, every step dangerous. Wonderland flicked his lighter and held it out in front. Ting covered his mouth, gagging.
“What’s that smell?” Ting asked.
“Relax,” Wonderland said. “It’s just the stench of the rotting flesh. Come on, it’s down here. Probably.”
“I don’t like this!” Ting’s voice cracked.
They passed blood-stained walls and skeletons slumped against the floor. Wonderland spotted a door ahead and grinned. “Come to Papa.”
He tried the handle, but it didn’t budge.
“We’re all going to die a horrible death!” Ting cried.
“Maybe,” Wonderland said, “but right now drugs are our priority. Expired pills are better than no pills. I learned that in public school. We need to take a full inventory and eat them all—I mean see them all. No, I meant eat them all.”
A low creak echoed nearby. Ting froze, panic setting in.
“What was that?! Ahhhhh!” he screamed, then hurled himself against the door repeatedly until it burst open. He stood there panting, sweat pouring down his face.
“You are proving to be very useful, Dr. Ting,” Wonderland said.
“Thank you.”
They stepped inside. At first the room seemed empty. Dust, broken cabinets, and shelves of bottles. Then Ting’s eyes adjusted, and he saw the gurney against the far wall. A patient lay strapped down, but barely human anymore. Skin bubbled with tumors, arms lengthened into grotesque angles, mouth sewn partly shut. The chest heaved once, then again.
The patient’s eyes snapped open. A guttural moan rattled from behind the stitches. The thing bucked violently against its restraints, metal screaming as bolts tore loose.
“I don’t like this,” Ting shouted. “Get the drugs and let’s get out of here!”
“You need to get high and relax,” Wonderland said, already brushing dust off a shelf.
“I need a gun!”
“No problem. It’ll cost you though.” Wonderland stuffed a handful of pills in his mouth. “Ah-ha! There’s that familiar taste of heaven. Need these, these too.”
The gurney snapped free of its wheels and toppled forward. The patient writhed, dragging itself across the floor, arms flailing with inhuman strength. Its hand caught Ting’s ankle.
“Ah! Help me! Ahhhhh!” Ting screamed.
Wonderland barely looked up. “Hang in there. My work here isn’t quite finished yet.”
Ting kicked free, stumbling back, but the patient lurched again, nearly toppling onto him.
“Ahhhh!”
The door burst open, and a guard rushed in, rifle raised. The shot cracked through the pharmacy. The bullet struck the patient’s skull. It collapsed hard, dead weight slamming against the tiles. Blood seeped out in a slow, dark pool.
Ting fell to the ground, shaking, his clothes soaked in sweat. He scrambled backward until his back hit the wall.
“You’re proving to be very useful, Dr. Ting,” Wonderland repeated calmly, chewing another mouthful of pills.
Ron swung a broom at a rat in a corner of the Emergency Room while Mary and a nurse scrubbed blood from a gurney.
“I actually thought there would be more rats,” Ron said.
“Look up.”
He glanced up. For a terrible, surreal second the ceiling seemed to move. Thousands of rats stampeding across the exposed beams. Mary kept scrubbing as if nothing had happened.
“Jesus God!” Ron breathed.
“Don’t worry, things are improving. You’ve already made them better.”
Ron blinked, surprised to hear it. “Seriously?”
“Well, no. Not really. I thought I’d try to be optimistic for once.”
“Oh.”
“Why is it so cold in here now?” Mary asked.
“We’re having… issues again,” Ron said. “You know, I think I’m having trouble readjusting. After it happened, I felt like I would rather die than live. But then I started to like it.”
“Uh, what?” Mary said.
“I know it’s crazy Mary, but I was getting used to the apocalypse. No work, no traffic, no headaches, just basic survival. On the other hand, now I’m in charge and I can finally make a difference here. How are you handling things?”
“Well, I guess it’s better now. I was boarded up in a crappy little apartment for two years.” She scrubbed harder. “I read the same three US WEEKLYs five hundred times.” She scrubbed even harder. “I didn’t shower in years. Ron, I was shaving my legs with a butter knife!”
Ron watched her, and something like attraction flickered across his face. “Yeah… hey, so did you hear we now have a bar on the top floor? Apparently, it’s got a great view. I was thinking maybe you and me—”
On cue Gordon stepped in. “Mr. Lloyd, just a reminder you have an important meeting in ten minutes.” He exited as quickly as he had appeared.
“I do? I’m sorry Mary. I’ll get someone down here to help get rid of the rats.” Mary grabbed a broom and charged toward the scurrying mass like a woman possessed. “I got it!” she cried.
Later, Ron found Gordon sitting in his office chair. Larry stood beside Ron’s desk, the mop tucked under his arm, pulling one of the steel balls on the Newton’s cradle and letting it snap back into the line. Clack-clack. The sound filled the quiet office.
“Ron. Shut the door and take a seat,” Gordon said.
“Gordon?” Ron asked.
“Alone at last. Mano a mano if you don’t count Larry, and you shouldn’t.”
“You got that right,” Larry agreed.
“Where’s my important meeting? Why are you sitting in my chair? And why the hell is Larry here?” Ron demanded.
“It’s more of an interview. I’m not going to beat around the bush here; I’m applying for your position.”
“I’m gonna be his right-hand man!” Larry announced.
“This is ridiculous. Larry, you’re our maintenance guy. Please go do your job.”
“But Gordon said—”
“I’m in charge, not Gordon!” Ron snapped, losing his temper. Larry shrugged and left the room.
“I don’t have time for this. You’re not getting my job. Frankly, I’m not even comfortable with you being a… what is your position here again?” Ron asked. Gordon handed him a roughly cut, hand-written business card.
“Senior Vice Administrator. Ron, look, it’s just business. May not happen today but someday I will have your job. I have big ideas. Too big for my current position. Also, going to need you to stay away from Mary. She clearly has deep feelings for me.”
Gordon’s eyebrow slipped off and fell to the floor. A beat.
“Do you mind if I ask why you’re wearing a fake eyebrow?” Ron said.
“Yes, I do mind but if you must know I have Trichotillomania, a horrible disorder brought on by stress. When civilization ended, I started having the repeated urge to pull out my hair. I’m talking about eyelashes, facial hair, nose hair,” Gordon said, gesturing down, “the hair on my—”
“I get it! I get it.”
Marlene poked her head through the doorway. “New MRI machine’s been delivered.”
“Finally! Some good news,” Ron said.
“Oh, and you got a phone call.”
Ron waited. She said nothing more. “And? What did they say?”
“I don’t know, I wasn’t listening.”
Ron looked exasperated.
“Wait. Now I remember,” Marlene said. “Mr. Bloodworth from—”
“Who the hell is that?!” Ron snapped.
“I think he’s from the New Government. Yeah. He’s coming today to evaluate your progress.”
“Today?! What time did they call?!”
“Yesterday. I think.”
A scream echoed from down the hall. Ron turned and rushed out of the room.
The room was chaos. Two women screamed in the middle of childbirth. Dr. Wonderland lay passed out on the floor, while Dr. Ting pressed himself against the wall, a gun aimed at one of the women. Ron burst into the room.
“Christ! What’s going on in here?” he shouted.
“He took a bunch of drugs,” Ting said, nodding toward Wonderland.
“Where is the nurse and why do you have a gun? Do not shoot the patient!” Ron barked.
“This hospital is dangerous!” Ting cried. “I need to protect myself. And now that woman won’t stop making funny noises!”
Ron yanked out his phone. “I need a nurse in room 130, right away!” Then, turning back to Ting: “Don’t you know anything about birth? She’s having a baby! You must have delivered animals before.”
“Only birds,” Ting muttered.
BANG! The gun went off in his hands.
“Put the gun down!” Ron roared. He lunged forward, wrestled the weapon free, and turned back just as one of the women screamed again. He bent to her side. “Ma’am, my name is—”
“Oh my God!” she cried.
“Okay, okay, take a deep breath. Keep pushing. That’s it… push!”
The baby arrived. Ron, grimacing, handed the slippery newborn to its mother.
“…my baby,” she whispered. “Thank you.”
“Help!” the second woman shrieked.
Ron rushed to her while Ting hovered near the first, trying to force her to sit on her baby like an egg. She pushed him away.
“Here, keep the egg baby warm,” Ting insisted.
“That’s it, almost there!” Ron urged the second woman.
Another baby came screaming into the world. Ron passed it to its mother, who clutched it tight. Ting made another attempt to press her down onto the infant, but she slapped him hard across the face.
Dr. Wonderland appeared suddenly behind Ron, pupils blown wide, smoking two cigarettes at once. “A boy and a girl. Nice job. Ron, if it’s all right with you, Dr. Ting and I will take over from here.”
Ron glared at him. “Outside!”
He stormed into the hall. Wonderland followed, putting a hand on Ron’s shoulder.
“My apologies for the slipup, Ron. I miscalculated my dosage. The good news is we have access to the drugs and they are really fucking good.”
Larry came trundling along with a wheelbarrow full of dead bodies.
“Larry! Where are you taking those things?” Ron demanded.
“Gordon told me to put them in your office.”
“Do not put the dead bodies in my office! Do not burn the dead bodies! Get rid of them some other way and heat the hospital properly!”
“How do you want me to do all that?” Larry asked.
“I don’t know, you’re the janitor guy. Figure it out!” Ron snapped.
They stared each other down until Larry wilted.
“Wonderland,” Ron said, turning back, “I just found out we are being evaluated by the New Government today and they don’t screw around. Do you know what that means? It means I can’t have my staff taking drugs in the middle of childbirth! And get a hold of Ting, he’s out of control!”
“Hmmm, yes, the New Government,” Wonderland murmured. “I’m a little concerned about them.”
“Yeah, no shit! You should be!”
“I was indicted before the apocalypse, Ron. If they find out—”
Ron froze. Yelling echoed down the hall. “Did you hear something?”
Mary and Gordon came running. “The Emergency Room is on fire!” Mary shouted.
Flames consumed the ER. Ron and Wonderland rushed in as Mary grabbed an extinguisher and sprayed.
“Boy, feel that heat,” Gordon said.
“How did this happen?” Ron demanded.
“He put his cigarette in the trash can,” Ting said.
“Is that true?!” Ron snapped at Wonderland.
The doctor popped a cigarette into his mouth. “Some philosophers believe nothing is true. Anyone got a light?”
Marlene strolled past, hair burning. Wonderland lit his smoke off her head.
“Marlene, your hair’s on fire!” Ron cried.
“Showing them lice who’s boss,” she said.
Ron raced after her but stopped short when he saw the MRI machine blazing. He fought the flames with foam. “Not the new MRI machine!”
A man in his fifties entered the building. He wore a white suit, white hair slicked back, followed by ten men in black suits carrying machine guns. Ron, covered in soot, clothes ruined, looked up.
“Ronald Lloyd?” the man asked.
“What?! Who the hell are you?!”
“My name is Dr. Bloodworth. I am the man who wonders why he can’t get an answer as to when my hospital will be up and running properly.”
Ron, flustered, stuffed the gun into his pocket. “I apologize, sir. I was just informed you were coming, and things have been slightly hectic today.”
Bloodworth’s eyes narrowed at the charred MRI. “Is that my MRI machine?”
“Yes. Yes, it is. And we can fix it.”
HISS! BANG! The MRI exploded.
“Please, follow me to the boardroom, sir, and I’ll fill you in on all the great progress we’ve made,” Ron stammered.
The boardroom stank of rot. Dead bodies were heaped across the table. Guards dragged them out while everyone else gagged.
“For God’s sake, Larry!” Ron snapped. He forced a smile at Bloodworth. “Apologies, sir. We usually run a tight ship.”
“Sit,” Bloodworth said. His men jabbed needles into their necks before they could move.
“Ahhh!” they cried.
“The new vaccine,” Bloodworth said. “You’re now immune.”
“Immune to what?” Ron asked.
“That’s classified.”
Mary leaned forward. “What caused this?”
Ron stammered. “Who’s responsible?”
Bloodworth ignored them. Wonderland, Ting, and Marlene were marched in and injected. Ting yelped, Marlene didn’t flinch, Wonderland grinned.
“Mr. Lloyd,” Bloodworth continued, voice flat, “you will vaccinate the population, keep them healthy, and deliver all babies. Your progress has been unsatisfactory. The last man to fail me…” He twitched. “…we had to set him free.”
Ron swallowed.
“The fate of humanity rests in your hands. There will be no more mistakes. You have twenty-four hours.”
Ron paled.
“One hundred and ten percent mistake free, you got it, sir.”
Bloodworth and his guards disappeared. Ron spun back to her, panicked. “This place is a disaster! I am so screwed!”
Later, in the hall, Ron walked with Gordon, Mary, and Marlene. He was distraught. Ting slunk away in another direction. Mary watched him.
“Soon this nightmare will be over,” Ting said.
“Yeah,” Mary said. “Pretty sure Dr. Ting has post-traumatic stress disorder.”
“Need staff. Need the MRI. Need… a miracle,” Ron muttered. His chest tightened. For a second he pictured an old staff huddle from the Before: lukewarm coffee, fluorescent buzz, someone complaining about parking. It had been dull and solvable. He’d hated it. He wanted it back.
“Real nice guy, that Dr. Bloodworth,” Gordon said. “You could tell he liked me best.”
“He’s a total creep show so yeah, you’re perfect for each other,” Mary snapped.
“Dinner at eight?” Gordon tried.
Mary groaned. “Okay, I am so sick of this. For your information, I’m married!”
“What?!” Ron and Gordon shouted together.
“His name is Carl. We married just before it happened. And he’s coming for me, so step aside.”
She stormed off, leaving Ron staring after her. Ron felt a hollowness spread in his chest. If even Mary belonged to another life, then maybe he never had a place here at all.
In reception, Ron entered with Wonderland, Gordon, and Marlene. Marlene swigged cough syrup, then handed the bottle to Ron, who took a long pull.
“Screw it,” he muttered.
“Ron, I think you’re depressed,” Wonderland said.
“Of course I’m depressed! I have twenty-four hours to get this place running smoothly with almost no staff and fix a broken MRI or else the New Government, which is apparently run by Nazis, will fucking kill me!”
“Hey, good news,” Marlene said. “I checked the MRI machine.”
“Yes?” Ron asked, hopeful.
“It’s totally broken. You’re as good as dead.”
“How is that fucking good news?!” Ron yelled.
“Quick, take all of these,” Wonderland said, handing him a few pills.
“Fuck it. Why not,” Ron muttered, swallowing them. A second later, worry flickered across his face. “What did I just take?”
“We’ll find out soon enough,” Wonderland said.
“Oh God.”
Larry appeared. “Hey boss, MRI’s fixed.”
“What?! You fixed it? How the hell did you do that?”
“I know a guy. Works great now. We took a couple scans though and it looks like I got cancer of the prick. But that’s life, right?”
“This is amazing! I mean sorry about your cancer, Larry! Come here guys, bring it in.”
Ron pulled Larry into a hug and refused to let go.
“Let go,” Larry said.
“I actually can’t,” Ron said softly. The drugs were blooming behind his eyes like hot lights. Wonderland shook his head and wandered off.
Ron blinked tears away. Maybe we can do it, he thought. Maybe this can be real again. The thought hurt and felt good.
Later, alone in his office, Ron sat at the desk. His head throbbed in strange rhythms, the walls bending in and out as if they breathed. Colors bled at the corners of his vision, a side effect of whatever Wonderland had handed him hours ago. His hands wouldn’t stop trembling, so he pinned them to the desk to keep them still.
The fax machine woke and spat a sheet into the tray. The sound startled him so hard he nearly toppled from his chair.
Congratulations. The Hope Regional Hospital has been deemed OPERATIONAL by the New Government. Please prepare quarterly reports.
He read it twice. The word OPERATIONAL stood there, square and calm. More solid than the building.
He looked up.
Through the window: smoke climbing the stairwell. Rats unzipping the ceiling. Marlene at her station, hair still burning faintly, sipping nail-polish remover. Gordon carefully straightening a stack of scorched memos, then signing each one with his shaky handwriting as if he were already in charge. Mary sat nearby, sharpening a broom handle with a piece of broken glass, her jaw tight. Ting crouched in the corner, scribbling frantic notes in a bird-care manual, muttering that the diagrams held secret warnings. Wonderland lay half-sprawled in the hall, eyes wide, chewing a fistful of stolen pills and lighting cigarettes from the sparks of a broken outlet.
Ron smoothed the paper and slid it into a folder labeled Reports. His hands shook, then steadied. The page felt official, like a dock piling in a flood.
He leaned back. Closed his eyes. Let the word hold him.
The fax purred again.
Reminder: Food shortages are critical. Please encourage staff to explore alternative protein sources.
Outside, under a burning lamp, they had another fat man. The pipes rose and fell. Wet thuds. Then nothing.
Ron opened his eyes. He listened to the silence that followed the noise, the way it had in the old boardroom after someone finished a speech, and no one knew what to say.
“Operational,” he whispered.
The fax dinged.