Whiskey Galore

By: Walter G. Esselman

Classified interoffice email from the Department of Homeland Security:

Zeke,

Director Chambers has code-named this incident, ‘Whiskey Galore’.  I know he likes a good whiskey neat, but now I’m worried.  

Regardless, you will find initial accounts of the incident, which is still spreading.  We gotta get on top of this thing right away.  The city of Quarton just went dark as well.  That’s two cities now.  

But I have two people who might be able to help us.

Call me as soon as your plane lands.  

Dr. Brett Hanson

P.S.  He should’ve called it ‘Pukin’ Guts Up’.

***

“Watch it!!” cried Billy.

The high school kid leapt back as the front wheel of a Chevy bounced up onto the sidewalk.  As the vehicle stopped, Billy’s father leaned out of the driver’s side window, laughing his ass off.

“Ha!” cried his father, Dean.  “You should’ve seen your face!”

Billy eyed the silver can of beer in Dean’s right hand.

“A little early to start drinking, isn’t it?” asked Billy with acid in his voice.

“Cut it out!” snapped Dean as his face lost all humor.  “I been up all night working at the Higgly Piggly so you could have food on the table.”

“Hot Pockets are now food?” 

“Don’t you sass Hot Pockets,” growled Dean.  “You!  You need to go straight home after school.  Your Mom’s gonna be cooking tonight, and she needs your help.”

“Is Ethel afraid she'll burn her weave again?” asked Billy.

Dean pitched the beer can, which bounced off Billy’s forehead.  

“Ow!” cried Billy as he put his hand to his head.

“Don’t you talk about your Mom that way!” snapped Dean.  One hand reached to the passenger seat and opened another beer without looking.

“Stepmom!” yelled Billy.  “And I have to go back to the grocery store after school.  You know, after you got me fired from the clinic.”

“The clinic was a crappy job anyway,” dismissed Dean.  “Now Ethel really wants us to have a nice family meal.”

“Which would be good,” replied Billy with venom.  “If we were a real family.”

“Don’t fuck this up for me!” said Dean.  “I’m living the dream right now.”

“Married to a stripper named Ethel was your dream?” asked Billy in a flat voice.

“Damn straight,” said Dean.  “So you better be home after school, or all hell’s going to break loose.

***

“I aced my Anatomy exam!” called out Billy as he walked into Old Man Tate’s grocery store.  Looking at the register, the boy did not see anyone sitting behind the counter.  

The skinny kid moved down aisle two to the back of the store, but found the stockroom empty.  He walked up aisle one, which led towards the register.  His backpack hit the ground when he saw the soles of Old Man Tate’s loafers.  In a sprint, Billy was suddenly standing over the old man.  

“Oh God!  Please don’t be another stroke,” whispered Billy fervently.

Old Man Tate was sprawled out behind the counter on his back looking up at the kid.  

“Can you smile?” asked Billy.

“You’re late Dr. Billy,” said Old Man Tate with a weary smile.

“You can smile, and your speech is good,” said Billy trying to remember the checklist for a stroke victim in his head.  “Now can you raise both arms?”

Old Man Tate rolled his eyes theatrically, but humored the boy by raising both arms, and that was when Billy saw the bite mark.

“Your arm,” said Billy.  The boy knelt in the confined space behind the counter to look at the wound on Old Man Tate’s forearm.  The flesh was dark and mottled around the bite mark. 

“Who did that?” asked Billy as called 911 on his ancient flip phone.  But 911 just rang and rang.  “Okay, we need to get you to the clinic.”

“Will they let you in after...well, your father,” asked Old Man Tate gently.

“We’ll worry about that once we get you there,” said Billy, and he tried to ignore his anger over getting fired from the clinic.

“I can walk,” said Old Man Tate, but as he started to get up, he nearly passed out.  Billy caught his boss's head just in time before it banged on the floor.  

“Right, you need to wait there,” said Billy as he got up.

“Okay Dr. Billy,” said Old Man Tate indulgently.  

***

Old Man Tate let out a little groan as they bounced through the front door of the grocery store.  The old man lay on a flat bottom grocery cart that Billy had wheeled out of the back room.  The cart was only five feet long so Tate had had to bend up his old knees to keep his feet on the cart.  Then it was a matter of not hitting anything on the way out of the small store.

“Wait!” cried Old Man Tate once they were outside.

“What?” asked Billy in concern.  “Is something wrong?”

“We need to lock the front door,” said Old Man Tate.

“We need to get you to the clinic.”

“We need to have a business to come back to, Stock Boy Billy,” insisted Old Man Tate, and he fished the keys from his pocket.

With one foot on the cart so it did not wander, Billy locked the front door.  Then it was almost a mile down main street to the strip mall clinic.

Billy pushed the cart down the sidewalk trying to steer clear of the cracks, but it was hard.  He was worried that Old Man Tate was not complaining anymore after he hit one particularly big bump.

“What happened to your arm?” asked Billy wanting to keep his boss, and patient, awake.

“What?” asked the old man vaguely.

“Your arm?” repeated Billy.  “Did you get bit?” 

“Um, yes,” said Old Man Tate, and his speech became much more focused.  “After we put out the vegetables this morning, and you had gone to school, I was straightening them up when Vic bit me.”

“Vic!  As in...Vic?” Muttered Billy in disbelief.

“I had to beat him off with a zucchini,” said Old Man Tate.  “Don’t let me forget that he owes us a zucchini.”

“But...Vic?” asked Billy. 

“He’s a good guy,” insisted Old Man Tate.

“Well…”

“You’ve seen him on Saturday mornings with his dog, Ms. Crawford.  He treats that dog like a queen.  And you can tell a lot about a person by how they treat their animals.  Or, at least I thought so.”

“Here we are,” said Billy, and he turned the cart towards the automatic doors, which hissed open.  Pushing the cart inside the clinic, he stopped in the waiting room, which was decorated in jarring pastel colors.  Along the left side was a row of particularly ugly chairs. 

“Billy?” called out the woman, Mona, who was behind the front desk.  “What brings…”  And then she saw Old Man Tate, and she twisted towards the clinic.  “Dr. Kilbeare!  Up front!”

But the first person out the door was a brick wall, who was aptly named Samson.  He was dressed in a rent-a-cop uniform and scowled at Billy.

“Can we help you?” asked Samson in an authoritative voice.

“I’m bringing in Mr. Tate,” said Billy urgently, but politely.  “He’s really sick.”

“Okay, you dropped him off,” said Samson.  “You can go now.”

“I need to talk to Dr. Kilbeare,” insisted Billy gently.

“Dr. Parker said that you were not allowed back on the premises for the rest of your life,” said Samson.

“Samson!  You’re in the way,” said Dr. Kilbeare behind the guard, but not in an unkind voice.

Reluctantly, Samson moved out of the doorway.  Through the door came a dark skinned Native American woman with long straight hair and a kind smile.  She stopped when she saw Billy.

“Billy?” exclaimed Kilbeare.  She looked pleasantly surprised, but then she looked down at Tate.  The doctor turned towards Samson.  “Help me push Mr. Tate in.”

“I’m supposed to guard,” said Samson.

“And with my nurse Chauncey out, I need help,” said Kilbeare primly.

But Billy was already pushing Old Man Tate towards the door and into the emergency room.  Kilbeare stepped back to let the boy through.  The cart just barely squeezed through the door.

“I’m not sure it’s another stroke,” said Billy to Kilbeare, and Samson followed hot on the boy’s heels.

“Bed four,” said Kilbeare, and Billy stopped the cart next to that bed.

“Can you stand?” asked Kilbeare of Old Man Tate.

“I should be able to,” said Tate.

“He needs help,” insisted Billy.

“And you need to go,” said the security guard to the boy.  Samson’s voice did not hold any anger, but was instead, coolly professional.

Billy turned to Samson.

“Could you hold the cart while we get Mr. Tate up onto the bed?  Please!” 

“I’m supposed to be kicking you out,” replied Samson, and his eyes moved towards the three bullet holes in the wall.

Billy let out an exasperated sigh.  “I’m sorry my Dad came in here, and pulled a gun that night.  I can’t get him to stop drinking.  I don’t think he meant to hurt anyone.  He was just mad that I missed dinner.”

“Billy was just here through a program at his high school,” explained Dr. Kilbeare.

“He’s going to be a doctor,” piped up Old Man Tate with pride in his tired voice.

“If I can get a scholarship, or five,” muttered Billy.

“Don’t worry, you’re smart,” said Old Man Tate to Billy.

“There are a lot of smart people out there,” replied Billy in what seemed to be an old argument.

“Okay!” said Dr. Kilbeare with authority.  “I already have a full room of patients with some weird illness, and no help.  So here’s what’s going to happen, Billy's going to run in back, and grab some scrubs…”

“What?” asked Billy in hopeful caution.  

“But…,” started Samson, and Kilbeare stopped him with a hard look.

“He was not at fault that night, because I had asked him to stay late, and he’ll help me today until Dr. Parker arrives,” said Dr. Kilbeare.  “And I will take the heat on it.  Okay?”

Samson heard the brushed steel in her voice, and nodded reluctantly.

“Now, can you hold the cart while we get Mr. Tate up?” asked Dr. Kilbeare.

Samson grabbed the cart handles and held it steady.

Between Kilbeare, Tate and Billy, they managed to get the old man into bed four.  Once they did, Billy moved to the other side of the bed to assist.  He started to grab for a pair of latex gloves, but Kilbeare held up a hand.

“Scrubs,” said Kilbeare.

Billy hesitated looking from Tate to her.

“He’ll be okay for a minute.  Scrubs!   Now!” said Kilbeare with a voice that brooked no argument.

“Okay,” nodded Billy a little reluctantly, but he ran towards the back while giving the guard a wide berth.

Tate suddenly grabbed Kilbeare’s hand, and she jumped from the intensity of his grip.

“My safe,” said Old Man Tate weakly.

“What?” asked Kilbeare as she leaned closer to the man.

“Tell Dr. Billy to go to my safe,” said Tate as he struggled to speak.  “Combination is my wife’s birthday.  He knows it.  The will there should get him through to senior year, if he uses the money carefully.  Wish it was more.”

“Don’t be so sure it’s going to come to that,” said Kilbeare.

“I’ve missed my wife,” said Tate, and he closed his eyes with a slight smile.  His hand slowly let go of Kilbeare’s hand.

“What did I miss?” asked Billy as he ran up, now clad in scrubs.  He pulled on a pair of latex gloves.

“Why do you think it’s not a stroke?” asked Dr. Kilbeare instead of answering.

“He made me raise my arms,” smiled Old Man Tate without opening his eyes.  

“He can smile, speak -- obviously -- and lift both arms without weakness,” said Billy.  “And his heart is 45 bpm at his carotid artery.  Then there’s the bite mark, but mostly I’m worried about the lumps.”

“Lumps?” asked Kilbeare, and then she really looked at Old Man Tate’s button up shirt.  It was indeed lumpy.  “Ah, those lumps.  Mrs. Condor came in saying she was sick with bumps like this, but not this big.”  She looked down to Tate.  “I’m going to open your shirt.”

Old Man Tate did not even respond.

“See, that really worries me,” said Billy urgently.

“What?” asked Kilbeare as she began to unbutton Tate’s shirt.

“Old Man Tate would normally have made a crack about ‘What? No dinner first’,” said Billy with concern in his voice.

Kilbeare just nodded as she looked over the old man’s fuzzy chest.  There were fewer lumps between the ribcage and epidermis, but the stomach was bloated with bumps.  Dr. Kilbeare took a probe and moved to touch one of the lumps with it.

Samson’s eyes grew wide with concern.  “Um, shouldn’t you be wearing masks, or a Hazmat suit.”

“Sissy,” chided Kilbeare, and Samson rolled his eyes good-naturally.  She touched one of the lumps, and it gave a little.

“What if it pops?” asked Samson.

“Duck,” said Kilbeare absently.

The lump shifted a little on its own, and her breath caught.

“What is this?” asked Kilbeare to herself.

“That’s what I’m talking about,” said Samson.

“I didn’t see anything like that this morning when I helped him push out the vegetable cart before school,” said Billy.

“You saw him with his shirt off?” smirked Samson.

“No!” said Billy, who was trying to keep his temper.  “But I think I would have noticed those!”  Billy looked back at the doctor.  “Cysts can’t form this fast, can they?”

“Nothing like this forms in a day,” whispered Kilbeare.  “This is much farther advanced than Mrs. Condor.”  She looked up at Samson.  “We’re good here.”

But Samson seemed reluctant to move.

“Samson, you’re hovering,” said Kilbeare, but in a gentle voice.

“Oh, sorry,” said Samson, and he backed across the room, but he kept an eye on Billy.

Kilbeare turned to Billy.

“You remember how to use the x-ray machine right?” asked Kilbeare.

“Don’t we need a technician for that?” asked Billy cautiously, but his voice held excitement.

“How does a kid know how to do an x-ray?” asked Samson from the opposite wall.

“He asked how everything worked while he was here.   He was like a sponge,” said Kilbeare with pride in her voice.  “And it was dead one night so we had time to kill.”

“So, I can do the x-ray?” asked Billy.

“Right now, it’s all hands on deck Dr. Billy,” smiled Kilbeare.  “I want you to take Old Ma...I mean, Mr. Tate to have his chest x-rayed.  Then bring him back with the x-rays.”

“Will do,” said Billy, and the boy unlocked the wheels of bed four.  

“Doctor!” called out Mona from the front.

“I gotta go,” said Kilbeare.

“We’re good!” said Billy confidently.  He turned to speak to Old Man Tate as he wheeled him out of the emergency room through the two automatic glass doors.  “Okay sir, we’re going to get an x-ray of your chest.  See if we can figure out what’s going on.”

A cream colored room held the x-ray machine, which was installed into the ceiling.   Off to one side was a small room, almost a closet, with all the controls.  He parked Old Man Tate right under the machine.

“Okay, I’m going to go into that small room off to the side and take that x-ray,” said Billy, but the old man did not respond.  “Just hold on.”

Billy practically ran into the small room.  But thankfully he remembered that day when Kilbeare had shown him how to operate the machine.  He was glad, not for the first time, that he had an eidetic memory.

Distantly, he could hear more noise, like raised voices, but he was too busy concentrating on the machine in front of him.

“Almost done,” called out Billy.  He took the x-rays, collected them and then ran back out.  “Okay, I’m going to take you back.”

But Tate’s eyes were closed.  He looked like he was in a deep, deep sleep.

Billy stomach tightened as he pulled Old Man Tate to the double glass doors. As they opened automatically, he was hit by a wave of noise.  He looked out and saw that the Emergency Room was quickly filling.

“What the…,” whispered Billy.

“Billy!” called out Kilbeare as she waved at the boy.

Wheeling Mr. Tate just inside the Emergency Room, Billy ran over to Kilbeare.  He handed the doctor the x-rays and she held them up to the bright ceiling light.  But what she saw made her squint at them.

“This...this doesn’t make sense,” said Kilbeare.

Billy looked over her shoulder, but the chest x-ray was too cluttered with dark masses.

“Um, I did exactly what we did that one day,” said Billy apologetically.

Kilbeare shook her head.  “No, not you.  We need an ultrasound to get a better look.”

“Doctor?” called out Mona in concern.  “More patients.”

Kilbeare handed the x-rays back to Billy.

“Families are coming in in droves,” said Kilbeare in a hushed whisper.  “Right now, I need you to go in back, and get any wheelchairs we have.”

“Wheelchairs?” asked Billy.

“We’re already out of beds,” said Kilbeare.  “I put Mr. Mangrove on the couch out in the waiting room, and Ms. Sawyer is on the flat cart you brought in.”

“I’m going,” nodded Billy, and he zipped off.  Before he left the ER, he glanced at Old Man Tate who was still sleeping.  The boy set the x-rays on the man’s feet.  As soon as the double glass doors to the Emergency Room closed, the noise died down a little bit.  He ran past several rooms, and around the corner to the stockroom by the back door.  There, in the cluttered room with only a tiny window, he found more wheelchairs.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the blue suitcase that held the ultrasound machine from LG-Proseries.  Putting the ultrasound in the seat of the wheelchair, he went back with both.  

And he was just in time because a new patient, Mr. Zembrovski, was wobbling into the emergency room.  One pant leg was pulled up to reveal a bandage on the man’s leg.  

Yanking the ultrasound off the chair, Billy steered Zembrovski down, and into the seat.

“Thank you,” said Mr. Zembrovski as he sank gratefully into the wheelchair.

Toting the ultrasound machine, Billy had just reached Kilbeare when everything went sour.  

Old Man Tate jerked into a sitting position.  His eyes were wide with fear and surprise.

“Sir...?” started Billy tentatively.

Sideways, the old man dropped off of a bed four, and spilt the x-rays, which skittered swiftly across the white floor.  Tate hit the ground hard on his hands and knees.

“Your knees!” exclaimed Billy.

As Old Man Tate started to crawl towards the doctor, Billy set down the ultrasound machine to run across the room to his boss.  At the old man’s side,  Billy took Tate’s shoulders.   The old man suddenly began to convulse on his hands and knees. 

“You need to get back on your…,” started Billy, when he stopped.  “Sir?”

Tate began to throw up, mostly liquid at this point.  Then he heaved harder, and blood came out to splatter onto the white floor.

Kilbeare rushed over and tugged Billy away.  But it knocked the boy off balance, and he fell on his butt just a few feet away.  

Tears dripped from the old man’s eyes.  Shivering, Tate threw up a lump of flesh.  And then another came out.  More came as they hit the floor in wet plops.  That was when Billy recognized a liver.  Old Man Tate’s liver.  

The boy was frozen, unable to move backwards as all of Old Man Tate’s internal organs hit the floor.  Then the eyes dropped.  Both stopped short held by the optic nerve.  There was the sound of two little snips inside the eye sockets, and the eyeballs fell onto the pile.

Old Man Tate, with a bloody smile, looked up at Billy.  The empty eye sockets filled with a black goop that had a tiny silver pinpricks in their center.

Jumping towards the boy, Tate grabbed the boy’s pant leg.  

That broke the spell.

The Emergency Room went berserk.  Ms. Sawyer’s husband just bolted out of the clinic leaving behind his incapacitated wife.  Others tried to grab whom they could.

Billy was too busy trying to get Old Man Tate off of him.

“Leggo!” cried the boy, but the old man grabbed another handful of the boy’s pant leg.  Billy kicked Tate square between the eyes, and that loosened the old man’s grip.  

Pulling away from Old Man Tate, Billy stood up with Dr. Kilbeare’s help.  As Old Man Tate sprung up, Billy grabbed an IV stand that was being prepped, and he upended it like a lance.  

Letting out a shout, he hit the old man in the chest with the bottom end and pushed his boss back into a wall.  While the old man tried to shift out from under the IV pole, Kilbeare shouted out.

“Get everyone in back!” she cried, and Samson, who had been paralysed with fear, shook himself awake.   The big man stood tall, turned towards the back of the clinic, and ran away.  

Kilbeare wanted to call out to him, but the security guard did not give her a chance.

“Um, he’s getting stronger,” said Billy with a hint of panic.

Kilbeare grabbed a rolling bed near her and wheeled it into the back of the clinic.  

At the front desk, Mona jumped up, but stiffened when she heard a terrible noise.  Mr. Mangrove began to heave over the edge of the couch.

“Shitshtitshitshit,” moaned Mona.   

Mona grabbed the stock cart that Ms. Sawyer was on, and followed Kilbeare.  When Mona was near her, she called out to the doctor.

“I think Mr. Mangrove’s going to…,” started Mona, when they heard the unmistakable sound of vomiting from the waiting room.  Mona gave a whine.   “We just had that carpet steam-cleaned too.  I had to stay late and everything.”

“We need to get everyone in back,” said Kilbeare as she jogged back into the ER  

Leaving the cart in back, Mona followed the doctor.  Once the other beds and wheelchair were in back as well, Kilbeare ran to the glass doors.

“Billy!  We’re clear!” 

Letting go of the IV stand, Billy sprinted into the back.  As he passed through, Kilbeare let the glass doors close, and she flipped the switch on top that turned them off.

Old Man Tate lurched towards the doors and hit them.  The windows held, for now.  Mr. Mangrove came out of the waiting room with a bloody grin.

“We need to keep going back,” said Billy.  “I don’t trust those doors.”

“Agreed,” said Kilbeare as Tate and Mangrove began to beat on the windows harder and harder.  “To the stockroom.”

Kilbeare, Billy and Mona pushed the patients around a corner to the stockroom by the back door, which was partly open.  After pushing the beds, cart and wheelchair into the stockroom, Billy ran back out into the hall and closed the back door.  He stepped back into the stockroom door, but Kilbeare saw him halt suddenly.  

“What?” asked Kilbeare.

“Do you hear that?” asked Billy.

“What?” asked Kilbeare in a stern tone.

“They stopped pounding,” said Billy.  He and Kilbeare walked back out into corridor and listened, but it was quiet.  However, the minute they walked around the corner, Tate and Mangrove started pounding on the windows again.

Billy gently took Kilbeare’s sleeve and pulled her out of view of Tate and Mangrove.  After a moment, the sound of pounding went away.

“They sense movement,” said Billy.  “Man, my friend Hasbro would be all ‘It’s Zombies! I said the Zombie apocalypse would happen, didn't I’.”

“Let’s just get through this night,” said Kilbeare.

“I hope Hasbro’s all right,” said Billy softly as Mona walked sheepishly out of the stockroom.  

Mona cleared her throat.   “Dr.Kilbeare, I’ve got to go.”

“What?” asked Kilbeare.  

“I left my son home with Mrs. Jones,” said Mona.  She backed to the door while taking out her keys.

Kilbeare looked torn for a moment, but she finally nodded.  “Be safe.”

“I’m sorry,” said Mona, and she was gone.  

“But…,” started Billy as the back door closed again.  

“Her son is out there,” shrugged Kilbeare.

They went back into the stock room.

“And the ultrasound?” asked Kilbeare.

“Remember, I brought it out in the ER so we could use it,” said Billy with an embarrassed voice.  “I was too efficient.”

“It’s okay,” said Kilbeare.  “We need to…”

But something caught Billy’s eye.

“Dad?” called out Billy, and he ran over to the small window in the stockroom.  Walking by the side of the road was Billy’s father, Dean, and he was half-carrying a blonde bombshell named Ethel.  

“They’re headed for the front door,” cried Billy.

The boy ran out of the room, and cautiously opened the back door.  He looked around carefully, and then ran out to the side of the road.  He did not dare call out until he was upon them.

“Dad!” whispered Billy.  “Did you just walk here?”

“Hell no, you dumbass,” snapped Dean.  “That idiot Samson ran right in front of me.  It was go in a ditch, or hit his ass!  Should’ve hit him.”

“Thank god you’re okay,” said Billy sincerely as he tried to ignore the cruel remark. 

“What are you doing here?  And why didn’t you come straight home,” demanded Dean.  “I told you that you were…”

But Ethel gave out a soft moan.

Billy went into doctor mode and turned to Ethel.

“What’s wrong?” asked Dr. Billy of his stepmom.

“She got bit,” explained Dean.  “By Mr. Horner no less.  I never thought him a creep, but then you never know.” 

Billy looked down and saw that Ethel had a welldone bandage on her right thigh, which was exposed by her booty shorts.

“Can’t have any scars,” moaned Ethel softly.

“Come this way,” insisted Billy, and he took Ethel’s other arm to help carry her.  Billy steered them towards the back entrance.

“The front’s that way dipshit,” said Dean, but he let the boy direct them.  

“Long story,” replied Billy.

As they approached the back door, Kilbeare opened it.  The doctor’s gaze grew hostile when she saw Dean, but then she noticed that Ethel was hurt.  Without hesitation, Kilbeare ushered them all in.

“Stockroom,” she said to Billy.  “We still have a spare wheelchair.”

“You’re going to put my wife in a stockroom?” asked Dean in a dangerous voice.  He stopped, and Billy had to stop as well, or try and carry Ethel himself.  Dean glared at Kilbeare.  “This your revenge?  She can’t be in the emergency room with the fine, upstanding, church folk?”

“DAD,” snapped Billy.  “We don’t have time.”

Billy leaned his stepmom in Dean’s direction, and let go.  That distracted his father who had to gather Ethel so that his wife did not fall.  

Running forward, Billy ducked into the stock room for the last wheelchair.  He was back out in a moment and parked it right behind Ethel.  Guiding her gently into the chair, the boy started to wheel his stepmom into the stockroom.

“Dad, something bad is happening,” said Billy as he took Ethel into the stockroom.  He parked her next to Mr. Zembrovski who was drooling onto his shirt.

Dean walked to the stock room door, but froze when he realized that it was full of patients.

“What?” he asked in confusion.

“Dr. Kilbeare and I had to come in here,” said Billy.  “We are trying to figure out what’s going on.”

“What is going on?” asked Dean.

Billy paused for a moment to pull on the mantle of professionalism.  “We do not know at this time Dad.  We are working to figure it out.  But for the moment, you can tend to Ethel…”

“Your Mom,” interjected Dean.

And Billy did not fight that.  “...while Dr. Kilbeare and I work.”

Dean was so thrown by the change in his son’s demeanor that he just nodded mutely.

Billy turned to Kilbeare.

“We need to do an ultrasound,” said Billy.

“I agree, but it’s too dangerous,” said Dr. Kilbeare.  “We don’t even know the vector for…”  But then she stopped.  “The bites.”

“Yeah!   Old Man Tate said he had been bitten by Vic.  Could that be it?”

“My wife was bitten,” said Dean slowly.

“I know,” said Billy.  “We need to study this further.”

Dean looked from Ethel, and then back to Billy.

“How sick is your Mom?” asked Dean.

“We are still trying to determine that,” said Billy.  “But we need something else.  Something we can't get to.”

“Well, what do we need?” asked Dean.

“We need to do an ultrasound, but the machine is in the front of the clinic,” said Billy.

“Well, why don’t go into the front of the clinic.”

***

Mangrove immediately started pounding on the glass doors when he saw Billy and Dean.

“That’s Rudy,” said Dean slowly, unbelieving.

“That was Mr. Mangrove,” corrected Billy.

“He looks pretty mobile for a dead man,” sneered Dean.

“Mr. Mangrove is dead, but something in him is still very much alive,” said Billy.

“What?” asked Dean.

Billy did not answer and focused on the door.

“We need a way through them.”

Turning, Billy went back into the stockroom.

“Any thoughts on getting our ultrasound?” asked Kilbeare.

“I’m working on…,” started Billy when they heard the glass door to the emergency room open.  It was quickly followed by a gunshot.

Billy ran back out to see Dean shooting his conceal carry.  

“What are you doing?” cried Billy.

Dean gave a nasty little smirk as he fired two more rounds into Mangrove’s chest.  

Mangrove tilted backwards.

“I always wanted to do that to that smug son of a bitch,” grinned Dean.

“What’d you do that for?” demanded Billy.

“What?” asked Dean.  “You said that Mangrove was dead, so I can’t get in trouble for shooting a corpse.  Probably.  Hell, who’s gonna convict me.”

“We don’t know what they are,” growled Billy through gritted teeth.  “Or what they can do.”

“The ultrasound,” called out Kilbeare from the back of the clinic.

Mangrove was on the floor, but he was starting to move again.

“Damn,” said Billy.  

The boy sprinted forward into the ER  Hopping around Mangrove, Billy snagged the ultrasound, and he was halfway back when he saw Old Man Tate.  

Slowing to a stop, Billy saw that his boss had sat down in the middle of the waiting room.  Tate now looked completely worn.  His skin was like onion paper.  

“What happened to you?” asked Billy.

Old Man Tate opened his mouth, and there was a chirping noise that came out.  But Billy did not know what it was trying to say.  Then Old Man Tate grinned, and it was a terrible grin, full of malice.

“Sir?” asked Billy.  Unconsciously, he had gone right up to the door to the waiting room.  “You're not in there anymore, are you?”

There was a noise, like brittle paper crackling.  Billy found himself leaning forward.  At first, he did not notice the split that zippered down Old Man Tate’s throat.  

“What the...?” asked Billy.

Old Man Tate’s body broke open and collapsed.  It fell into two desiccated halves, and out came the bugs.

Billy grabbed the waiting room door as the bugs moved, like a tidal wave, towards him.  Slamming that door shut, he ran towards the back.  Mangrove was shaking as if he were having a seizure.  The boy did not slow down.  He ran through the open glass doors.  

As he turned, he saw Mangrove’s chest balloon up, and then split around the bullet holes.  More bugs erupted from his body, but they were smaller, and less mature, than the ones that had escaped Tate.

Hitting the switch above the door, Billy just managed to seal the automatic glass doors before the bugs hit it.  They spread up and over the door trying to get purchase; trying to get through.  At the bend in the corridor, Billy found his father looking in confusion at the bugs.

“What the…,” started Dean.

“Don’t know,” said Billy as he tore past.  “Just don’t break the glass.”

“What do you think I am?  Stupid?” asked Dean.  

Wisely, Billy, did not answer.  He ran into the stock room with the ultrasound machine.  

“Got it,” said Billy.

***

On the screen, bugs moved inside Mrs. Condor, and they were definitely insects.  They crawled over one another and pressed at her internal organs.  In response, Mrs. Condor’s breathing was now shallow, since several bugs were pressing on her lungs.  

“They didn’t cover this in parasitology,” said Kilbeare with quiet concern.

“Is that what’s in my wife?” demanded Dean behind Kilbeare, and made the doctor jump.

“Please don’t hover,” said Kilbeare with barely kept patience.

“If that’s in my wife, you need to get it out!  Now!” insisted Dean.

Billy shoved his body between his father and the doctor.

“Dad!” hissed Billy.  “We are doing everything we can.  But you have to let us work.”

“You wouldn’t shed a tear if she died,” growled Dean.

And Billy punched his father in the jaw.  

It did not hurt Dean so much as surprise him.

“How dare you?” spat Billy in a vicious whisper.  “I stood...I stood, without objection, as the best man at your wedding.  Right in the same spot where Mom’s casket had been two months prior.  And yet, I still like Ethel.  She has always treated me nicely.”

A hand reached out and grasped Billy’s in a weak grip.  He looked down in surprise to see that it was Ethel.

“I love you too sweetie,” murmured Ethel, and then her hand fell away.

Billy looked back up at his father.

“You!” he said in a strong tone, and Dean jumped.  

Billy went over to a tote in the corner of the stock room.  He lifted it up with some difficulty.  Dean started to reach out to help, but then he stopped.  Billy carried the tote out into the hall and dropped it heavily.  Returning to the room, Billy pointed outside.

“Go in the hall while we work to save these people,” ordered Billy.

“You’re going to make me sit in the corner?” asked Dean with a mixture of confusion and malevolence.

“Sit.  Stand.  I don’t care,” said Billy.  “But let us work.”

Dean unconsciously touched his jaw.  Slowly, Billy’s father walked out into the hall.

“And no shooting,” said Billy as he went back into the stockroom.  He strode over to Dr. Kilbeare.  Standing over Mrs. Condor, he checked the woman’s pulse.

“How’s the hand?” asked Kilbeare quietly.

“Wishing I had an ice pack,” replied Billy, but his focus was on Mrs. Condor.  “Now what if we poison these bastards?”

“Like Chemo?” asked Kilbeare thoughtfully.  “That might work.”

Kilbeare touched Mrs Condor’s bloated stomach gently.  

“They’re big,” said Kilbeare.  “She has to be ready to go.”

“We can introduce a poison right into the stomach, and see if that slows them down,” said Billy.

“What's the first rule?” asked Kilbeare.

Billy looked up at her, and then he responded like a student in class.  “First, we do no harm!” 

“But Mrs. Condor is not going to hold out long enough to get her to a hospital,” said Kilbeare as she mulled over the problem.

“Then we don’t have much to lose,” suggested Billy.

“K…,” started Mrs. Condor, and Kilbeare and Billy turned to her.  She lifted her head a little off the bed.  Finally the words tumbled out.  “Kill the bastards.”  Then Mrs. Condor slumped back.

Kilbeare turned to Billy.

“Let’s start with a sedative,” said Kilbeare.  “Maybe that will slow the process.”

***

Kilbeare nodded her chin at the ultrasound machine.

“That didn’t slow them,” said Killbeare.  “And they’re really starting to crowd her organs.”

“Nuclear option?” asked Billy.  “I mean, what could we even use?  I never studied poisons?”

“Flagyl,” said Kilbeare.  

Billy tried to suppress an amused sound, but he could not.  Kilbeare arched an eyebrow at him.

“Flagyl, DR. Billy, is metronidazole, an antibiotic, that helps with infections and parasites,” said Kilbeare as she took out her keychain.  “You know where the medicine is.  Here’s the key.  Can you get it for me?  500mg.”

Billy ran out the door, and his father tried to speak to him, but the boy was gone.  A moment later, Billy returned with the box of Flagyl.

“No time for your father?” asked Dean.

“We’re going to try something,” said Billy.

“Try?  You don’t know how to kill it?” groused Dean.

“This is medicine,” was all that Billy said, and he ran into the stockroom.  He gave the box to Dr. Kilbeare. 

“We’re going to need something to wash it down,” said the doctor.

Dr. Billy ran back out again and came back with a soda.

“Couldn’t find any bottled water, but bought a can of Coke,” said Billy, a little out of breath.

Billy gently held up Mrs. Condor’s head as Kilbeare helped her take several pills.  As Billy set down the lady’s head, he stepped back with the doctor.

“How long do we have to wait?” asked Billy.

“Longer than I’d like,” said Kilbeare.  “But I gave her a double dose under the circumstances.”  She looked at the boy.  “Did you get a chance to look in front?”

“I only saw a few bugs,” said Billy.

“I have a Jeep, but that’s not going to fit everybody if we have to leave,” said Kilbeare.  They tried their cellphones, but there was no signal.

“Maybe I could go out and get a bigger vehicle?” suggested Billy.

 “Do you know where we’d even find one?” asked Kilbeare.

“The school is ten miles away,” said Billy thoughtfully.  “Maybe I could find keys for one of the buses.”

“Too dangerous.  Especially for a ‘maybe’,” said Kilbeare flatly.  “We’re stuck for now.”

*** 

Shortly, a voice called out from the hallway.

“Anything?  I’m getting bored out here,” said Dean.

“Medicine doesn’t always go quickly,” called out Billy, but he did not go out into the hallway.  He moved to monitor the patients.  

Billy was kneeling in front of his stepmom, Ethel, when he heard a noise; a scratching noise.

Up like a shot, Billy ran over to a corner, which had a small heating vent in the wall.  He grabbed a metal cabinet and pushed it in front of the vent just as one of the bugs was starting to tear at the metal.  Kilbeare looked over questioning.

“Bug in the vent,” explained Billy.  “I’m going to check the other vents.”

“Careful,” said Kilbeare.  “We have to assume that they can spread this disease too.”

“True,” agreed Billy.  He started to walk around the room, and block vents with anything available. 

“What did I hear about bugs?” asked Dean as he walked into the doorway.  “What’s wrong?”

Kilbeare flashed a quick look to Billy who sighed.  The boy walked over to his father.

“Just a precaution,” said Billy, but he crowded his father so Dean was forced to step back into the hallway.  Despite the fact that the boy was shorter than his father, Dean allowed Billy to push him out into the hall.  

“Well, why aren’t you giving your Mom any medicine,” accused Dean.

“We don’t know if it’s working yet,” said Billy.  “If there isn’t an adverse reaction, like death, we’re going to give it to everyone, including her.  If it works.”

“Well, why not start her on it now,” suggested Dean.

But Billy’s attention turned back to Kilbeare.  He saw her pick a piece of white debris off of Mrs. Condor’s bare stomach.  He was still wondering what was going on when the doctor grabbed the end of Condor’s rolling bed.

Kilbeare yanked the bed towards the door and knocked over the ultrasound machine.  Billy jumped out of the doctor’s way as she barreled out into the hall.  That was when he saw the ceiling tiles collapsed.  Big bugs rained down on the remaining patients.  The patients, for their part, did not react as they were pelted by the insects.

“What the hell was that?” demanded Dean as he surged forward.  

While Kilbeare pulled the bed towards the back door, Billy cut in front of his father.  

Dean collided into Billy and knocked the boy aside.  

“What the…,” started Dean.

Billy was barely able to stay upright.  He focused on his father.  Several large bugs, the size of a man’s palm, skittered towards Dean.  The big man slammed his foot down and crushed the first one.

“That’s all you got?” he demanded of the bugs.  

Billy ran up and pulled on his father’s arm.

“It’s too late!” cried Billy as he tried to quell his own panic.

Dean twisted, and there was a snarl on his face.

“Go then!  I can’t lose your mother and her,” snarled Dean, and he pushed Billy back so hard that the boy fell on his butt.  As the boy sat there stunned, Dean gave a shout of ‘Ethel’ and plunged into the bug infested room.

Billy scrambled up to his feet.  He was about to follow when Kilbeare touched his arm.  The boy looked over his shoulder at her.  Tears ran down his face.

“I need help getting Mrs. Condor into my jeep,” said Kilbeare.

“But…,” started Billy.

“We need to go,” said Kilbeare gently, but firmly.  She gave a little tug on his scrubs, and he let himself get pulled along.  As they closed the back door, the big bugs had started to explore outside the stockroom.  But there was no sign, or even a sound, of his father.

Billy let the door close.

***

“So, you’re telling me,” said the police officer, Pendleton.  “That there are big bugs all around your town.”

The police officer was standing in the emergency room in Quarton, the next town over.  He looked carefully between Billy and Kilbeare.

“Is he looking for signs of opioid use?” asked Billy of the doctor.

“Yes, and I don’t blame him,” said Kilbeare to the boy, but then she looked at the officer.  “Though we are not using.”  

The officer just nodded noncommittally, and he looked beyond the two at Mrs Condor, who was being examined by a doctor and two nurses.

“So this is a parasite?” asked Pendleton.

“It seems so,” agreed Kilbeare.

“You know a successful parasite doesn’t kill its host?” mentioned the officer.

“Usually yes,” said Billy.  “But in this case they're taking over the bodies.”

The officer just stared at the boy coolly.  But Billy had just seen a lot of people die, including Old Man Tate and his father.  The boy did not flinch.

“Just send someone there,” said Kilbeare in exasperation. 

“But be careful,” insisted Billy.

“As it happens, we called,” said the officer.

“The phone’s were working?” wondered Kilbeare in surprise.

But Pendleton ignored the question.  “The sheriff did not answer his phone.  But Sheriff Sands has ignored calls in the past.  Especially from my Chief, who doesn’t really like him.”

“Well, can we talk to the chief?” asked Kilbeare.

“He’ll be here in a minute,” said the officer.  “He said your town was as quiet as a church mouse when he checked; though the sheriff wasn’t in his office.”

“That’s not like the sheriff,” said Kilbeare.  She looked at Billy.  “Now I’m worried for…”

And she stopped as the automatic doors to the Emergency Room opened.  Swaying in was Chief Cobb, who moved with an unsteady gait.  He had a glazed expression on his face.

“Here are those two,” said the officer to the chief.  And then Pendleton stopped.  “Sir?” 

Billy began to tug on Kilbeare’s sleeve.

“Chief?” called out Pendleton.

The chief suddenly dropped to his knees and began to puke his guts up.

Billy and Kilbeare broke for Mrs Condor.

“Seeing is believing,” called out Billy as they ran.

“Dr. Billy!” said Kilbeare reproachfully.  

“Sorry,” said the boy, who was only a little sorry.

Special thanks to Dr. Timothy Lamb for his assistance.