The Virus

well.
“So, if it’s not food poisoning, what else could it be?”
Amy glanced back into the mirror and studied her reflection. Her features had become flushed from the water’s harsh touch. Her cheeks glowed red and her blue eyes sparkled. She smiled, relieved to have her fresh-faced appearance back.
“I don’t know,” Joyce said. “Once we’ve examined the patients, we might establish a cause. But, until then, your guess is as good as mine.”
The two women made their way down the corridor, approaching the bloody scene once more. The onlookers had all dispersed, with only the crimson pools serving as a grisly reminder of their ordeal. ‘Wet floor’ signs had appeared at opposite ends, with a lone cleaner mopping up the blood and vomit. They watched the man’s exhausted efforts. His face had adopted a grey hue and dark rings circled his bloodshot eyes. The handle trembled in his hands as he leaned heavily on it for support. Amy watched as more of the white floor was painted red by the cleaner’s efforts.
“Gary, are you okay?”
A tall, middle-aged doctor approached. The cleaner didn’t respond, but went about his task in the same sluggish manner. The doctor looked at the two nurses who shrugged their shoulders.
“I don’t mean to pry, but shouldn’t the rest of the cleaning team be dealing with this?”
They looked at the red pool, which had significantly increased since they had arrived. Despite the efforts of the lethargic cleaner, the pool was expanding.
“I guess they’re all tied up,” Joyce answered the man. “There have been situations like this all morning: vomiting blood, seizures, the lot.”
“I know. I’ve just examined a patient who came in earlier with those symptoms.”
“Have you established what’s causing it?” Amy asked, tearing her gaze away from the cleaner.
“No. But there will be an autopsy. That should establish a cause.”
“Wait, autopsy?”
“Yes, the gentleman died. He suffered a seizure before going into cardiac arrest. We tried to revive him, but his heart had given up.”
“The same thing happened here,” Joyce said. “Two patients with the same symptoms and both went into cardiac arrest.”
Amy nodded in agreement, her eyes fixed on the gory pool that was gradually creeping closer. The cleaner mopped in a figure of eight, sending waves of liquid rolling towards the walls. The trio stepped back as the crimson ripples threatened to flow around the soles of their shoes.
“Where the hell did all this blood come from?” Joyce said, looking around at the scene with a newfound awareness. Amy stared at the cleaner’s feet, just as a fresh stream of gore poured from his mouth.
“It’s coming from him.” She gasped, pointing at the man’s bowed head. The three of them watched as a thin strand of scarlet fluid oozed down, dripping onto his shoes.
“Gary, you need help!”
The doctor rushed forward, his feet splashing amongst the blood. He put his hand on the inflicted man who suddenly sprang to life. The doctor’s scream echoed around the corridor as Gary clamped his teeth onto his hand. He tried to get away, but within seconds the demented man was on his back, dragging him to the ground.
Amy leapt forward as the doctor fought to push the lunatic away. Both men were coated in blood as they wrestled for the upper hand; the doctor whimpering, the cleaner growling. Amy grabbed the cleaner’s arm whilst Joyce knelt on his back, forcing his head to the side. Gary snarled, fighting to be free. The doctor staggered to his feet, grabbing the other flailing arm and pinning it behind the man’s back.
“Amy, get security!” Joyce stammered. “We’ll hold him.”
The doctor seized the other arm, allowing Amy to move. She sprinted down the corridor, her heart hammering, her breath caught in her lungs. She turned a corner, greeted by a row of closed doors in another empty corridor. She tried each door as she ran down the hall, crying out in frustration when none of them would open. Finally, the last door granted her entry.
The well-lit room was an office. Twin desks stood up against the window with computers and paperwork atop both. Amy caught sight of the phone and grabbed the handset. She racked her brain, desperately trying to remember the number for security. Her memory failed her, and she had to contact the operator.
“Hello, Sunnymoor Hospital,” a female voice crooned.
“Security, please.”
“One moment.”
The line went silent. Amy tapped her fingers against the desk anxiously, willing someone to pick up the phone. Her heavy breathing whooshed down the line. She toyed with the phone cord as a high-pitched scream echoed down the hall. Amy spun round. It sounded like Joyce. Finally, a voice sounded on the other end of the phone.
“Security.”
“We need help. There’s someone attacking staff in the main corridor outside of the nurse’s station!”
“Everyone is responding to a call at the minute,” the man replied. “I’ll send a message for the nearest person to attend once they have dealt with their call-out.”
“But he’s biting people!”
“Biting?”
“Yes!”
“Look, there’s nothing I can do at the minute. I’ll ring the police and I’ll send a member of the team as soon as they’re free.”
Amy slammed the receiver down and darted out of the office. If security wasn’t coming, then she had to help Joyce and the doctor herself. She sprinted back down the corridor. Her heart hammered in her chest, the blood-curdling scream still fresh in her mind. She dared not imagine what sights would greet her as she turned the corner.
She stopped in her tracks, trying to muster a scream. Her legs softened, her body trembled, and her lungs ached from the breath trapped inside.
The doctor’s body lay a few feet from his killer, who was kneeling with his back to Amy. She realised with horror that he was hunched over the still form of Joyce Khaliq.