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Zombie vs Zombie


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Chimera gave Beanpole a brief awkward wave as he was escorted into the hospital. As the doors closed she exhaled and sagged slightly. She dreaded the next thing on her ‘to do’ list. She pulled her phone out again as she sought out a private area.

 

She hit speed dial and waited as it rang. It didn’t take long before Jamie’s deceptively cheerful voice came over the line.

“Hey Jen, it’s late, where are you?”

“Hi Jamie. Long story, short: I’m standing outside the hospital. Don’t freak out, I’m fine.”

She said quickly.

“What happened?”

“It a long story. I promise I’ll tell you later. I’m going to stay here for a little while. I just wanted to let you know where I was.”

There was a pause on the other end.

“You sure you’re okay?”

Jamie asked.

“Ya, you know me.”

Jennifer tried to sound upbeat. Jamie made a noncommittal sound but exhaled a small sigh.

“Just remember to call me if you need to.”

“Of course.”

“Text me when you coming back.”

“I will.”

“Just so you know, I’m not waiting. I’m just gonna get something delivered.”

“Gotcha.”

Jennifer chuckled.

“Just save me something.”

“No promises.”

Jamie teased.

“Be careful.”

“No promises.”

She teased back.

 

Chimera turned back to the ER entrance. She supposed it was only right for her to stay until she heard something about Beanpole’s condition. She had promised to see to him should ‘something’ happen.

“Ya, ‘something’. Something like I turn out to be completely wrong and he really does turn into one of the walking dead.”

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GM

 

A while later....

 

It was almost sunrise - and one of the tired doctors came looking for Chimera, drinking a hot coffee in an attempt to stay awake. 

 

"You... you came in with that guy, what's his name? Beanpole. Mr B Pole. That's the only name he gave..."

 

He scratched his neck. 

 

"Look, he got bit. Human bite marks. That's assault, but its not a gunshot wound so I dont need to inform the police. He will be ok. Gave him the shots, no infection. I mean, I hope no infection. What was it? Drunken brawl? Rabies? He kept saying a zombie bit him, but... well, I suppose this is Freedom City so we have had stranger things than Zombies. Why, once I had this guy hit by a pinkinator beam, and... umm, yeah that's another story,..."

 

He shook his brain to wake up. 

 

"Anyway, I skipped the necromancy classes at med school. But as far as I can  tell he will be fine. Course of five days prophylactic antibiotics to be on the safe side, and a couple of scars to show the grand kids, but he will be fine. At least physically. I think the shock has stunned him a bit. Has he got somewhere safe to go home to, someone to keep an eye on him?"

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Chimera was standing by one of the tall windows lining the wall, her own cup of coffee cooling in her hand. Her own wounds had long since healed, but she had to reassure several passing medical personnel given the state of her attire. Her mask had pulled away from her mouth enough to sip from the styrofoam cup. When the tired looking doctor approached her she turned to face him.

 

She could only give a small shrug at Beanpole’s name. But she was glad to hear he would be alright. She gave the doctor a wry smile at the mention of stranger things happening in Freedom.

“I’m starting to learn that first hand. I hear the necromancy finals are brutal.”

Chimera chuckled.

 

She suddenly realized she didn’t really have any contact information.

“I think he has a mother in the city, but I don’t know how to reach her.”

She admitted.

“His, ah, employer mentioned they recently opened a restaurant. The ‘Pasta Palace’. Might be able to reach them for emergency contact information.”

She reasoned. It probably wouldn’t take long for Blowfish to learn of Beanpole’s condition, but she should at least make an effort to contact him.

 

“Is he awake?”

Maybe they could ask him directly, though she was fairly sure he was probably sedated for his own good right now.

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GM

 

"Come see for yourself..."

 

A few minutes later, in a hospital side room...

 

Beanpole was lying in bed, a drip up his arm (for no clear reason other than having a cannula in a vein seemed like a good idea on the basis that "better to have it and not need it rather than need it and not have it") and a dressing over his bite mark. 

 

Other than his normal skinny, lank build and a slightly frazzled mental state, he seemed entirely healthy. 

 

"Bloods all normal. Blood pressure normal. A bit underweight. You could do with a few more bowls of pasta, sir" explained the doctor to the so-called Mr. B. Pole (as it said at the bottom of the bed). 

 

"Can't stand da stuff" muttered Beanpole. "I'm more of a tofu and sushi guy. But..." he shot a frightened glance at Chimera. "...don't let da boss know. Truth is, I flush da pasta down the toilet..."

 

He turned his face to mock disgust at the thought. But the doctor was right; Beanpole could do with a few more bowls of pasta, or anything, come to that. 

 

"Can I go?" he asked. 

 

The doctor shot Chimera a glance. 

 

"Yes, as far as I can see you are fine. Just take the antibiotics and... ah... it would be good to have a trusted friend keep an eye over you the next couple of days, just in case you get an infection. Or... ah... something else happens..."

 

Necromancy, as the doctor had said, was not on the medical school syllabus. 

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Chimera followed the doctor to Beanpole’s room. She gave the man a relieved smile, the techno-organic mask still covered her cheeks and nose. 

It was one thing for the doctors to say he was fine, but another to see it with her own eyes. Walking in she moved to stand next to the bed.

 

“I promise not to say anything.”

She reassured him, trying to hide a smile.

“But, if the doctor tells you to eat a little more, it’s probably a good idea to do that.”

 

She looked up at the doctor when the man asked if he could leave. She nodded in understanding and looked back at Beanpole.

“Is there someone you can call to pick you up? Somewhere you can go to rest up?”

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GM

 

Beanpole shrugged. "I guess I can go back to da Pasta Palace. As long as Blowfish don't cut me in two with a chainsaw. Huh."

 

He didn't look overjoyed at the prospect. 

 

"Maybe da doctor can give me an official medical statement, say I'm not a zombie?" he asked, looking at the Doctor. 

 

The Doctor tried to keep his eyebrows level and his lips straight, with limited success. "I can indeed, Mr Pole. You are, medically speaking, not a zombie. But psychiatry is not my specialism..."

 

"Well I ain't nuts, if dat's what yer saying" said Beanpole, animated. "I ain't crazy! and I ain't no zombie either! Make sure you put that down!" he said, tearing his cannula out and standing up from the bed. 

 

"Right you are sir. Officially not a zombie, officially not a crazy. Official medical opinion" said the doctor, hastily scrawling something on some paper in illegible handwriting and stuffing it into Beanpole's hand. 

 

"And what ya gonna do?" said Beanpole, turning to Chimera. "I mean, I guess I owe you a solid, even if ya is a cape!"

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Chimera stared to react as Beanpole pulled the line out. That had to have stung. She’d give him this, he either had a good pain tolerance… or was still under the effects of whatever painkiller they had given him.

 

She shot the doctor an apologetic look as she moved up beside Beanpole. The poor medical profession was obviously trying to humor him. She was a little surprised when he asked about her plans.

 

“Don’t worry about it.”

Chimera wave off his insinuated debt.

“I, ah, suppose a change of clothes and another large coffee before starting a very long day on very little sleep.”

She tried not to sound as tired as she felt.

“That’s what heroes do, with or without capes.”

She gave the doctor a smile and nodded respectfully.

 

“Now, let’s get you to the pharmacy and let the good doctor get on to other patients.”

She took Beanpole by the elbow.

“What about your mother? Is she in town? I’m sure she would help you.”

She asked as she helped him along and tried not to think about how much Jamie was going to go off on her for being out this long.

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GM

 

"My mama? Yeah, I guess. If she don't chew my ears off. You know what mama's are like..."

 

Nevertheless, getting his ears chewed off seemed to be a relatively small price to pay; Beanpole's demeanour brightened, and something vaguely like a smile hit his lips. 

 

"Seriously. I may be a crook, hell, I probably always will be, at least till dey lock me in da slamma. But you saved my life. So if I can help you out one day, let me know. As long as it don't get me killed. Turns out, not being a zombie gives you a whole new appreciation for being alive. And I sure ain't gonna eat no brains, hell - I'd rather eat pasta. And dat's saying something!"

 

Beanpole had enough cash to hail a cab and make his way to his mothers, antibiotics in his hand. Where would his life go from this point? It was hard to say, and it was another story for another time. 

 

Right now, Chimera still had a rogue Necromancer to contend with, and Blowfish was circling the town looking for vigilante justice. 

 

But at least she could get a strong coffee from the hospital cafe...

 

~ To be continued.... ~

Edited by Supercape
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