Night 57: Medical Wing Hall
[from here]He glanced idly at the doorways as they passed them, and yet still none read infirmary. "It's only a waste of time," he replied. "If you can't find them. Which would be a bit pathetic in a small building like this
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Carter peered cautiously out into the hallway, frowning. It was about that time in the evening, the time when something nasty would happen after he'd been lured into a false sense of security. "I wonder if there's anything we can use in the rest of the wing," he murmured. "Like a scalpel or a bone saw. Maybe we can get a weapon that way." The crowbar was solid and reliable, but it never hurt to have a backup.
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It was impossible to say where they had come from, but the bathrooms up in the corner of the wing was the most likely guess. They had waited, almost patiently, for the night to drag out to the point that there were only a few patients to contend with in the hall. Then, after identifying them as easy pickings, they swarmed forth.
There were only five of them -- a small amount considering the numbers they usually traveled in -- but they moved surprisingly quickly, their armored bodies surging toward the pair of patients. Their pincers out, they spread across the hall; two on the floor, two on the wall, and one up toward the ceiling, they were able to cling to any surface offered to them.
But all they truly wanted to do was eat.
[ Court ]
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So when Carter's flashlight made another pan of the wide, twisting hallway he managed to catch a glimpse of a dark, carapaced form surging across the ceiling. "Look out!" he yelled, pointing upward with his crowbar. "Look up there!"
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While McCoy spotted them eventually, it was clearly too late. The two roaches that had decided to remain on the floor quickly got into position, one jumping at each patient. One latched onto the back of McCoy's calf, while the other stuck to Carter's thigh.
With pincers out, each one quickly set out to bite, to take chunks out of the fresh flesh and poison them in the process.
The other three waited for their turn, the one on the ceiling apparently waiting for the perfect moment at which to drop down.
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They were just Nazis in animal form.
The flashlight and crowbar dropped from his hands and he twisted around to rip the cockroach off his body, even as he felt its legs leaving long bloody scratches on his skin. Its insectoid, alien body felt strange against his hands but Carter kept his tight grip on the body.
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The thing bite into his leg, going through his boots as cleanly as a scalpel through epidermal tissue. McCoy barely managed to choke down the cry of pain from getting out, strangled it out into a wheeze through his nose. It hurt, a lot more than any animal bite he'd ever had, and worse, there was a tingling sensation that could only be some sort of venom.
McCoy dropped the first aid kit, and did the only thing he could think of. The doctor twisted away from the wall and swung his flashlight at it as hard as he could.
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As for the one that was latched onto McCoy, the smack from the flashlight quickly sent it flying off and skidding across the floor, but its reinforced armor meant that it didn't do much in the way of injuring it.
Instead, one of the ones that had been waiting on the wall leapt off of it, as this swarm clearly focused its efforts and strategies on being relentless. It landed on McCoy's back and started to crawl up it.
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Pain was blinding him. Not fear, they were just monsters, the hero always defeated the monsters and they'd just get fixed up again the next morning, but pain was much harder to be optimistic about. Carter stumbled backwards and wound up ramming the cockroach against the wall, making its body dig against his wounded shoulder but hopefully doing it some damage as well.
Was he really this tasty? He shouldn't be. There were plenty of tastier people around the institute.
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"Carter, we need to get out of here-!" McCoy shouted the moment he was free. He hoped he could hear him, but there was so much going on. More of the roaches were converging on him, that other one skid across the floor and brushed against a wall, and Carter was struggling nearby, hitting the wall and fighting like a damn hellion.
The doctor bent to retrieve the first aid kit, and the moment his hands gripped the handle, he knew it was a mistake. A heavy weight hit his shoulder, knocking him forwards onto his hands and knees. Another cockroach and handed on him and was starting to crawl up, probably looking for his head.
McCoy pitched forward, reaching up to try and pull it off with the momentum.
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As Carter backed into the wall, the roach found itself being crushed in the worst possible place -- its underbelly. While its legs tried to scrabble at the human's skin and somehow get away from the crushing weight, it didn't have the strength to do so while in such a precarious position. Instead, green blood started to be squeezed out of it as too much pressure was applied to its one tender area.
However, the only roach that hadn't attacked thus far took this as its moment to strike, homing in on Carter and jumping for his thigh. While the creatures weren't that difficult to bat away when they attacked one at a time, it was another story when they kept coming.
The roach that had been so close to reaching McCoy's neck was stopped right before it could sink its pincers in, falling off and hitting the floor. But the one that had slid across the ground before had regained its footing and was circling back around. They weren't interested in letting their prey escape.
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Carter pulled his arm forward and rammed the point of his elbow into the roach's underbelly. He would have done it again if yet another roach hadn't made a grab for this thigh. Carter kicked out furiously, having to engage in a bizarre dance to keep both of them away at the same time.
"Hit 'em in the stomach!" he yelled back. "And then we'll run!"
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McCoy didn't need to be told twice. He aimed the flashlight down at the roach he'd just knocked off his back, hard, and then shot to his feet without sticking around to see if it killed it. The doctor hurriedly limped over to Carter. Safety in numbers, that was always tactically sound right? He wasn't the tactician here or really, much for combat, that was Jim's job or apparently more of Carter's job. He was too damned old for this!
He risked a glance at the ceiling and walls, then at the flurry of movement coming at them. The blasted thing was coming back for him. Probably liked the taste of an old country Doctor, and McCoy got the unpleasant idea just then that if they didn't take care of them now, it could follow him back to his room. Or worse, come for him at any time.
Just wait for it to get a little closer now... McCoy stepped out at it when it came with in ranged, and tried to knock it onto its back with a boot.
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The one that was running for McCoy wasn't able to dart out of the way fast enough to avoid the kick, but all it did was force it to skid backward. And then, the remaining two rushed forward after it, more than ready to give chase even though one of them had already met its end. These creatures were too stupid to be warned off by the death of one of their own.
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So there he was, kicking and bashing at his own leg even as he hopped over to his abandoned weapon. Two feet before it, barely in arm's reach, he went tumbling to the floor.
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