Assuming Room Temperature by S.P. Durnin

Author:S.P. Durnin
Language: eng
Format: mobi
Publisher: Permuted Press
Published: 2016-07-19T04:00:00+00:00

* * *

Upon breaking a third floor window next to the canopy and entering the hospital proper,—as Jake had guessed—they found a total absence of undead presence inside.

Their rifle’s tactical lights illuminated a pronounced lack of clutter within too, which neither of them could understand. Until they checked one of the darkened stairwells that is. Anything and everything that wasn’t bolted down: end tables, treatment carts, waiting room chairs and loveseats, hospital beds, large anesthesia machines, huge containers filled with steel surgical instruments, even heavy cases of “adult pull-ups” had been used to completely fill the landing up to the second floor. With all of that stuffed together like a gigantic Jenga puzzle—combined with the steel security doors at ground level, there was no possible way anything living or dead could gain entry to the upper floors.

Bee whistled, carefully keeping the muzzle of her rifle pointed safely away from O’Connor as he tried to peer down into the mess. “Whoa. That would’ve taken a while.”

“It’s been nearly four months since the zombies rose,” Jake reminded her with a shrug. “I’m sure there wasn’t much else for the guy to do. And his life would’ve depended on keeping them from getting through the doors, so...”

“Good point,” she admitted.

They began climbing towards the fifth level, still leery of the door at each landing and moving quietly, but there didn’t seem to be anything above. No moans, no shuffling footsteps, no stench of decay that marked the presence of the dead, it was a nice change. Upon reaching the proper floor, Jake slung his rifle after dousing its light, and pulled his large Hammer pistol. Ensuring the magazine in the heavy repeater held .45 slugs and not 12-gauge cartridges, he flipped off the safety, took a firm grip on the door handle with his left hand, and waited for Bee to squeeze his shoulder to signify she was ready. When her fingers tightened on his deltoid, O’Connor pulled the door open and ghosted into the hallway beyond, moving swiftly to his left. Bee went right, eyes roving downrange and looking for a sight picture as she moved to press her back against the wall.

This was considered textbook “CQB (close quarters battle) dynamic room entry.” Jake had learned the process overseas from a crusty, old SEAL who’d beaten it into his SAS brick over and over and over again, until they could, Fucking preform the fucking process fucking properly! as the older man had so eloquently put it. The entry team lined up all on the same side of the door. The second man put his hand on the first man’s shoulder; the third man put his on the second man’s and so on and so on. The last man in the stack readied himself, and then squeezed the shoulder of the one in front of him. Moving up the line, each man gave the one to their front the signal, until the lead man felt the squeeze on his shoulder. Then, knowing the team was ready, they entered the room.

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