fEaR 3, page 23
“Whoo-oop, whoo-oop!”
That time the single creature called out. Whatever was going on had been orchestrated for an audience of one...me.
"Be ready for anything, people." I placed my hand on the Tri-Taser. My trigger finger was itchy.
“Whoo-oop, whoo-oop!” the man running toward us called out again, only this time he hopped with each syllable.
He'd reached the twenty-yard line.
Another whoop, another hop.
Thirty-yard line.
Whoop. Hop.
Forty-yard line.
Forty-five.
He stopped.
“Whoo-oop!” The man's head was covered in the dirtiest thicket of dreadlocks I'd ever witnessed. He was clad in little more than a loin cloth and had 'CC' carved onto his chest, the healing scar an angry, swollen red. Rail thin and battered, he looked very much like Rob Zombie dressed as Jesus in an ironic twist of a Halloween costume.
"And on the eighth day, Jesus did partake of the flesh. And, verily, it was good. He supped on the wildebeest and cuckoo, the lion and the bear, the snake and the woman." Cannibal Christ hopped in place. "As he filled his gut with the taste of life, he spilled his seed upon the ground, that the worms and earthbound insects may become one with the savior of man." As he hopped, he extended his hand. "I am he, that Cannibal Christ."
I hesitantly reached out and accepted the gesture, feeling trepidation at shaking the hand of a madman.
"You have something I want, Mr. Surgeon. And I have something you need." Cannibal Christ stopped hopping. "Let's make a deal."
"How do I know we can trust you?"
Christ returned to the hop. "You can't know that, for I am unknowable."
"Cut the bullshit," Trinity snapped.
Christ stopped and shifted over until he stood before the head of my security. "You're fun." The cannibal tilted his head to the left and then the right, as though cracking his neck in an action film setup. "You smell sweet. I would nibble upon your pretty ankles, calves, American thighs, and eat my way up to your stomach, where the prime feast dwells."
"Enough, Christ."
The eater gave me the side eye, which had me wanting to retract every syllable that had spilled from my mouth.
Christ pulled in close and personal to take a long sniff of my armpits. "You don't smell so sweet. I'd call you...gamey."
"Are we going to actually exchange information, or do you plan on toying with us for the rest of the day?"
“Whoo-oop, whoo-oop!” Cannibal Christ growled his aria, imitating Cookie Monster fronting a death metal band. "C is for Cannibal, that's good enough for me."
"I fucking hate cannibals," Trinity whispered.
Christ turned from me. "A communion wafer says what?"
"Please," I interrupted the theater of the macabre. "Can we just get on with this?"
"Oh, you mean the deal I'm about to make with you?"
"That'd be the one," I pointed a solitary finger toward the sky, which—truth be told—probably came off a bit patronizing. Honestly? I didn't give a fuck. In fact, I'd run out of fucks to share years ago. The apocalypse was perfectly fuckless.
"Fine. But all work and no play makes Christ a hangry boy. You want brass tacks, I'll give you brass tacks." Christ reached a hand into his loin cloth, and immediately removed it. When he opened his digits, he revealed a palm of actual thumbtacks, which he succinctly popped into his mouth and swallowed. He hopped up and down and shouted, “Whoo-oop, whoo-oop!” When he came to a stop, he looked back at me. "That's gonna hurt upon exit. It's also why we're meeting here."
"So I can watch you risk your life by shredding your esophagus?"
Christ laughed as rivulets of blood trickled from the corners of his mouth. "No, you ugly bag of mostly water. So I can prove a point."
"Which is?"
Christ stepped into my personal space. I really hated it when people did that. "You need me and I need you."
Speaking of needing someone...in the back of my mind, all I could think about was the notably absent Emanuel.
"I wouldn't be so sure of that." I responded, my voice a bit more monotone than I'd expected; almost nonchalant.
"Really?" Christ hopped once and then shouted menacingly, “Whoo-oop!"
From the stands, a chorus of “whoo-oops” was followed by thousands of cannibals hopping up from behind the seats.
"Fuuuck," Arjun whispered.
Christ unleashed a most wicked laugh. "Isn't that special? Those are my disciples, and they'd do absolutely anything for me." He drew up so close I could smell the sour stench of blood and rotted human tissue on his breath. He growled, "Anything."
“Whoo-oop, whoo-oop,” the crowd sang out.
"What do you want, Christ?" I shouted.
"Why, nothing more than your love. And worship. And fealty. In other words, I want you to break free from the deal you made with that heretic Emanuel and work with and for me. Supply my followers with a never-ending gravy train of bodies, and we'll make sure no cannibal on this planet touches you. It's a win-win. But of course you already know that, seeing as how you've made that same deal with my enemy." Bloody spittle launched from Christ's mouth as he shouted.
Where was Emanuel? It was all too clear that Cannibal Christ wasn't altogether right in the head—and not in the Prion's disease kind of way. This man suffered from some serious psychotic issues, and I had no desire to test the limits of his patience or temper.
"Tell me," my mouth opened before my brain had a chance to have its say, "how would such a bargain work? By that I mean, would you station guards around the hospital 24/7 and escort us on supply runs? And would you be willing to sign a contract stating that you would not, in any way, do anything to deliberately send patients our way?"
Christ leaned into me, his eyes bulging and his lips pursing. "I don't follow."
"Simple enough—"
Christ's face turned blood red and shook with what I had to assume was rage. "Don't ever call me simple!"
"Whoa there, Christ. I wasn't. It was nothing more than a figure of speech." I paused, waiting for the muncher to calm down. "As I was saying, our contract with Emanuel—"
Again, Christ interrupted. "Never say that pig's name."
I raised my hands in surrender. "Fine. Fine. Our previous contract contained a clause that prevented the followers of he-who-shall-not-be-named from going after…" I paused for a quick swallow, "lunchboxes, hoping to send them on a one-way trip to the hospital, their wounds too severe to survive, thus ensuring their,” I cleared my throat, “gravy train.”
Christ picked at something between his teeth. I seriously had zero desire to know what it was—or who it was. "Why would I make such a deal? If we were to only depend on random chance, we'd starve. On top of which, you surgeons follow the hippocampus oath—"
"Hippocratic," I interrupted.
Christ growled. "Don't correct me. Ever." He then bounced on the balls of his feet. "What was I saying? Oh yes, you must follow the hippopotamus oath and do everything you can to save your patients. I don't like those odds. We need flesh on a regular basis, and you're going to be our suppliers. Understand?"
“Whoo-oop, whoo-oop!” the crowd shouted loud enough to vibrate my chest.
Still no Emanuel. My only hope was to stall long enough for he and his army to arrive. Or, I could electronically crucify the man, lending great irony to his alias, and hope like hell we could reach the tunnel before his acolytes reached us. I didn't like our chances with that.
Rock, meet hard place.
"So," I fell silent, unsure of where I was about to go with my stall. "What you want is for our hospital to be your cafeteria?"
"Whoop." Christ hopped. "Sounds about right. Tick tock, Pitter patter, we’re on the clock; what’s your answer? I've got loaves to bake."
"What's your favorite bible verse?" Arjun asked.
I glanced at the man, who then nodded, ever so slightly, to indicate he knew what he was doing.
"What do you mean?" Christ asked.
"If you had to pick one bible verse that best illustrated your take on life, what would it be?" Arjun upped the ante of his question.
"I don't...I...why are you asking me that question?"
Arjun lowered his crowbar. "You claim to be Christ. It's not such a leap of logic that the messiah would have a fairly solid grasp of his father's writings, correct?"
"How could you know my father? He's dead."
The content of Christ's question didn't take me by surprise as much as did his accidental confession.
"Ah hah!" I shouted. "So you're not the real Christ."
“Whoo-oop! Whoo-oop!” Cannibal Christ shouted as he peeled ratty, fingerless gloves from his hands to reveal each palm had been pierced, through and through. His hands remained before me, in such a manner that I could see his eyes blinking from behind the meaty tunnels. "I am He. Doubters are dinners." Christ looked at me, then at Trinity, then Arjun. He then unleashed a throat-tearing “Whoo-oop!” to whip his followers into a frenzy.
Where was our cavalry?
Goddamn, I hate cannibals.
Without warning, Trinity grabbed her Tri-Taser and unleashed it on Christ. The man “whooped” and vibrated as though God himself was tickling his prostate. And yet, the cannibal refused to go down.
Arjun lit the man up with his weapon. As Christ did the wacky pop dance, the sea of cannibals rushed from the stands.
"Guys," I called out. "We have to run. Now!"
The cannibal lord remained upright.
"Christ," I huffed and pulled out my Tri-Taser. Not three seconds after I pulled the trigger, Cannibal Christ dropped, lifeless, to the ground.
"Run!" I shouted.
We took off for the tunnel, beating cheeks as quickly as our legs could carry us.
Unfortunately, our desperate attempt to flee fell flat. A swarm of cannibals dropped from the stands to block our exit. They stood, salivating at the fresh meat standing before them. A rising tide of clacking teeth was an ear-rattling, heart-wrenching symphony of death to come.
All we had to fight off the curtain of cannibals before us was our trusty crowbars.
The odds were drastically against us.
"Trinity, any ideas?"
My question was met with silence. Before I could ask again, she raised her crowbar over her head, screamed like a banshee, and rushed the nearest cannibals, shouting, "Die, motherfuckers!"
This was it...our end. I felt like a fool, putting the lives of my two colleagues in danger and risking the future of the hospital. And for what? The hope that a cannibal would make good on his word? I should have known better. And now? We die.
Trinity reached the cannibals and swung down hard with her weapon. The man before her grabbed the iron bar with his hand to stop it in mid-swing.
To my shock, he pulled the crowbar from Trinity's grasp, tossed it to the ground, and stood before her, unmoving.
And then I heard it.
The slow clap.
The sound came from behind.
"Whoop. Whoop."
The voice. I knew it all too well. I spun on my heels to see Emanuel, dapper as ever, standing on the fifty-yard line, his foot resting on Christ's head.
"Bravo, Vega. I must say, I'm impressed. I thought for sure I'd have to be the one to take this mad bastard down. Honestly, I was kind of hoping I would. Not that I'm complaining. After all, I did wear my best suit, and with you doing my dirty work…" Emo brushed his hands down the front of his jacket. "No dry cleaner required."
"How did you—"
Emanuel interrupted. "Get rid of Christ's followers?" He laughed. "We had the numbers. Besides, they've always been shitty fighters. We, on the other hand, fight dirty."
Emo slowly made his way to me, his arm outstretched. Without hesitation, I accepted the offered hand and shook.
"That crazy bastard had no idea my men were in the stands all along. Genius, if I must say." Emanuel gave me a pat on the shoulder. "You've done us a great service, Vega. Trust me when I tell you the favor will be returned, tenfold. In accordance with our agreement, you and your hospital will be protected. Much appreciated." Emanuel started to walk off, but stopped himself. "You're going to think this crazy, but hear me out. You need staff—doctors, nurses, and so on. It should come as no surprise that we have such professionals among us, as you eggheads are consumed by the study of human flesh. I would like to offer their services to you, with the understanding they will abide by my wishes to do no harm."
I opened my mouth to answer.
Emo silenced me with a hand.
"No need to make a hasty decision on this. Think about it. Talk to your people. If you find yourself in need, reach out to me. We have highly qualified personnel at the ready." Emanuel grinned. "Don't worry, I'll feed them prior to their arrival."
I nodded. Emanuel mimicked the gentleman's gesture and turned away.
"My people," Emo called out, "we depart now!"
Every cannibal in the stadium complied. Together, we watched them file through the tunnel, leaving me, Trinity, and Arjun alone on the field.
"Well," Arjun shouldered his crowbar, "that was too easy."
"Fie on you, sir,” I spat. "Now there'll be a league of cannibals waiting for us beyond the gates of this castle."
"I don't—"
I stopped Arjun in his vocal tracks. "Joking. Just joking."
Together, our spirits considerably lighter, we made our way out of the stadium and back to the truck. Outside, there were no cannibals to greet us, no ticker tape parade nor marching bands, floats or cheering crowds. It was just us and a much-needed peace.
"Seriously thought we were entrees in there," Trinity confessed, "which would have been the absolute worst way to die."
Arjun raised his hand. "I'll second that. Your friend pulled one hell of an eleventh-hour stunt."
As much as I agreed with both my colleagues, it didn't matter. What did matter was Emanuel had come through in an impressive show of might. Yes, there was the slightest bit of concern, rumbling in the back of my head that, in the process of taking down his enemy, Emo was reminding me who was really in charge.
Fortunately, Emanuel was delusional. No matter how many cannibals he had at his beck and call, I was the one in control. He’d saved our hides, but that was the deal. In the end, the Neon Cross did not serve him, nor did he serve us.
The devil, as they say, is in the details. This was a partnership, a give and take. If that's what was required to survive this apocalypse, I'd happily continue doing business with the man.
17
OPEN FOR BUSINESS
The Neon Cross was open for business. Although we were still short handed, it felt damn good to get back to some semblance of normalcy. The first couple of days saw not a single patient walk through the doors. After the third day, a slow trickle began. Word spread faster than I'd expected. That meant one thing...unless some fresh staff sauntered into the hospital, we might have to take Emanuel up on his offer.
But that was another conversation for another day. At the moment, Janet and I could handle the load, and Miranda had picked up quite a bit of skill, enough that she would handle intake and triage with Vinny.
Darcy was still with me in the OR.
Speaking of which…
"Clamp." I held out my hand, waiting for the familiar slap of metal on glove.
"Careful not to nick—"
"The inferior vena cava," I interrupted Janet. "Mansplaining, are we now?"
Janet chuckled. "How does that medicine taste?"
"Hold up a second." I glanced at Janet over my loupes. "I don't—"
"Uh uh," Chenica stopped me short.
"No. Seriously?"
Chenica's eyes twinkled under the bank of LEDs. "I'm just messin' with you."
The door to the OR popped open and Jax peeked his head through.
"Mask," Janet barked.
Jax slipped a mask over his mouth. "Chief, I think you're needed at the front desk."
"I seem to have my hands full of artery at the moment, Slugger. Can it wait?"
"Don't think so."
"Go," Janet insisted. "I can take care of this."
"You sure?"
Janet gave me the eyebrow in response. That was my cue to hand the surgery over to her and follow Jax out of the room.
In the hall, Jax had us at a jog. "Care to tell me what gives?"
"Cannibals," Jax responded. "But not what you think."
We reached the main floor. Seated around the waiting room were maybe a dozen people in various stages of injury. Emily, newly minted as our receptionist, stood behind her desk, a mask of abject terror on her face.
Two and two came crashing together.
"You've got to be kidding me.”
"I wish I were," Jax answered. "Unfortunately, I'm not. They're all eaters."
I steeled my will and approached the center of the room. "Anyone care to tell me what's going on?"
Every cannibal jaw in the room clacked, the sound like a hailstorm on a roof of bone.
"Stop!" I shouted. "If you're here, it's because Emanuel sent you, which means you know the damn rules. We are not your snacks. You are to respect that or I will report you to Emo."
Silence.
A short, stocky woman stood and approached me. She wore a flannel shirt, faded bluejeans, and work boots. When she spoke, a hint of Canada came through. "Me and my chums were workin' a site when a foundation collapsed, sending I-beams and concrete raining down on us. We didn't all make it. Those of us who did were told to come here. Emanuel did the tellin'. He said you'd fix us right up so we could go back to work. Can you do that? Please?"
Canada aside, the politeness took me by surprise. Not that I was complaining. It was the apocalypse, after all. Any chance for a bit of humility and kindness was cause for respect.
I looked deep into the woman's eyes. "And you fully recognize the deal we have with Emanuel, correct?"
"Oh, certainly. We're not to harm you in any way. We come in, get fixed up, and go out. You betcha."
"Miranda."
Almost as soon as I called out, the woman was by my side.
"Yes?"
"You and Vinny do your thing." I leaned in close and whispered, "Don't turn your back on any of them, for even a second."
