Title: The Last Consultation
Author: Kassfinol
All rights reserved
Registered: Registration code: 2308285162535
Genre: Fiction. Suspense. Horror
I hope you don’t find yourself in that part of the population that lives in ignorance, while reality breaks apart and the darkest horrors lurk. Dive into this story and discover the truth for yourself.
Single chapter
What I’m about to tell you is something I know many won’t believe. So far, I haven’t seen any news about this in the Paraguayan media, and if this has become a constant, I imagine it must be happening in other parts of the world.
I went to my medical appointment, but I arrived late by their standards, since it was six in the morning. I was supposed to meet with the endocrinologist, and it was my first appointment with her. I didn’t know I had to arrive so early, since they only had ten slots. I figured next time I’d have to be there at four in the morning to make sure I got an appointment without wasting time.
However, I’m an optimistic person by nature, and I decided to stay to see if the doctor would let me be seen after her workday. I recognized I had to take responsibility for arriving late. Besides, I realized I’d never asked at reception how many patients the doctor saw per day or what her office hours were. On the other hand, I’d organized my morning so my delay wouldn’t affect my work, so there was no problem waiting to see if I’d get lucky.
The prenatal and endocrinology offices were close by, a few meters apart, since the place had numerous medical rooms.
From my chair, I could see my OB-GYN doctor coming in and out, the one who handled my prenatal checkups, whom I’d met recently. This doctor, around seventy years old, had a strong temper, which was evident in the way he spoke. He also showed a lack of empathy in communication, since he spoke without giving his patients a chance to express their opinions. However, I chose him because his concerned attitude and attention to his patients had shown he was a dedicated health professional. I wanted the best in terms of experience for my baby’s care.
I prefer experience over cronyism.
I stayed there for at least two hours, reading “The Grace Year” by Kim Liggett to pass the time. Finally, I stopped reading when a group of people I assumed were the endocrinologist’s patients started heading toward the chairs in front of her office. The place was spacious, with long wooden chairs and a clean, cared-for atmosphere that reflected the attention provided at the facility.
I looked at the clock and it was 9:30 in the morning. I approached one of the nurses in charge of organization, weighing, and taking blood pressure to remind her I was still waiting to see the endocrinologist. After a few minutes, she came to me with a kind smile and informed me I could pay for the appointment because the doctor would see me.
Good news!
I was glad I’d waited since 6:40 a.m. to see the doctor. I knew she must have arrived at 8 a.m. to see her appointments, but who was I to question her respect for her patients’ time? In fact, I was grateful she was willing to see me and the other four girls who had also been left without a slot. I went to reception and paid the cost of my appointment, and they gave me number fourteen. I smiled; at least I’d get out of there before noon.
I went back to the office area and handed the copy of the ticket to the nurse. She weighed me and took my blood pressure reading, then confirmed I should wait until they called me by name. I nodded and sat in a secluded corner, wishing to read in peace. The book I had in my hands, “The Grace Year” by Kim Liggett, was entertaining, though a bit slow, but I insist… entertaining.
I lost track of time immersed in reading until something pulled me out of my intense concentration. A chill ran down my spine and my body went on alert. I looked around, but the only thing that seemed out of the ordinary was the arrival of a pregnant woman, who I figured must have been around thirty weeks along by the size of her belly. She walked with difficulty, supported by a man I assumed was her husband. Both wore face masks, which was common at that time of year due to the flu and influenza outbreaks that used to hit the country in June, with drastic temperature changes; on the same day you could have heat in the morning, rain in the afternoon, and at night be feeling intense cold.
At first, I tried not to pay too much attention to the newcomers. The woman was wrapped in coats, a scarf, a hat, and gloves; and her companion wore a similar outfit. At first glance, everything seemed normal, but I could no longer concentrate on reading; I felt uncomfortable.
After a few minutes, I decided to put the book away, since it was clear I wouldn’t be able to concentrate. Instead, I focused on the man’s behavior. He looked restless, constantly looking around and then turning his attention back to his companion. The woman, for her part, had her head down, shoulders hunched, which denoted weakness. Both were sitting in the center of the waiting room.
I took my phone out of my bag to check some messages in the WhatsApp group I shared with my daughter and husband. They were old messages confirming they’d arrived safely at school and work. I decided to answer them:
“I’m glad to know you’re okay. I love you. I’m here waiting for the endocrinologist to see me. Let me know about anything; stay alert.”
Since they found out about my pregnancy, my daughter and husband had become extremely protective. They didn’t like me going out alone for fear I’d suffer unexpected dizziness, fainting, or vomiting, but I understood that sometimes circumstances didn’t allow them to come with me.
Then, I focused on my surroundings again. It seemed that, since the couple’s arrival, an unusual silence had taken over the waiting room. At that moment, three nurses were attending to the couple, who were still in the center of the room. The silence was so dense that I could hear the nurse who seemed the oldest among her colleagues when she said:
“Sir, I think we should take her to the emergency room. Something isn’t right with your wife. How long has she been like this?”
To my surprise, the husband answered reluctantly:
“I don’t know, I don’t know, the only strange thing was a few hours ago, I bought her another brand of vitamins because we couldn’t get the one she always took… I don’t know what else to tell you; I just want her doctor to see her. Today she has her routine appointment.”
The nurse insisted:
“Are you sure that was the only thing that happened?”
And she moved even closer to help the woman get up from her seat.
The husband didn’t get the chance to answer her because he froze at the guttural sound his wife made. The harrowing echo it produced made every last hair on my head stand on end.
Run —it crossed my mind, but I didn’t move. I just watched, like her husband, as the woman collapsed onto the floor and began to convulse, never stopping those spine-chilling sounds through her throat. They weren’t screams of pain, but rather sounds taken from a horror movie.
The other patients got up from their seats with astonished faces. Some fled the scene, while others came even closer to the couple.
I remained motionless, watching what was happening and trying to understand what situation could lead a person to convulse and make such terrifying sounds… so inhuman.
The answers my mind offered didn’t seem logical or realistic to me.
Between the legs of the patients who had decided to come closer to see more of what was happening, I could watch as the nurses struggled to keep the woman’s body on the floor, even with her husband’s help. The guttural screams, the murmur of the amazed and frightened patients, and the woman’s husband telling her amid laments and tears… over and over to please hold on, that everything would pass; they drew the attention of the doctors who were in their offices with the doors closed.
Several of them came out of their cubicles and made their way through the pregnant women who insisted on staying there watching what was happening. I could see how the woman seemed possessed by a demon; it was impressive to see how she writhed despite all the force the nurses and her husband exerted on her; all that strength was abnormal. The doctors’ faces at the scene were of disbelief.
“Everyone be quiet!” —my OB-GYN shouted. I expected no less from him— “Step away from here, take seats or leave the place; I don’t want anyone nearby.”
When they made space and I could see one hundred percent what was happening, I stopped breathing at the sight.
The woman looked as if she would levitate off the floor due to her abrupt movements, even though two doctors were now holding her, one grabbing each leg, while her husband held her head and three nurses tried to control her arms. But the most shocking thing was the unnatural movement of her belly, which looked about to tear apart, as if her baby were about to push through her stomach on its own.
The situation worsened within minutes. The women who had been nearby began to scream and cross themselves at the horrifying sight. Some sat stunned, while others, like me, remained motionless, as if time had stopped.
“What’s wrong with her? Does she have rabies? Is she possessed? Is she a demon? God protect us and keep us safe!” —they whispered among themselves, throwing out questions that mixed with the screams and finally pulled me out of my state of paralysis.
“Keep her from biting her tongue!” —a doctor demanded, while another of his colleagues took the woman’s pulse. They had redistributed themselves, since the spasms seemed more intense and the movement of her belly had become more unsettling.
The one taking her pulse said nothing, but shook his head.
The husband put his fingers in his wife’s mouth, presumably to stupidly keep her from biting her tongue.
One of the doctors said something in Guaraní, but I couldn’t understand it, because I didn’t understand the language. However, his tone seemed to indicate he was scolding the husband for what he’d just done. Then he insisted:
“Put something in her mouth to keep the young woman from biting her tongue.”
The next thing I heard was quite surreal:
“She has no pulse!” —said the other doctor, who had been in front of everyone trying to take her vital signs for several minutes.
“But she’s moving! What’s happening, doctor?” —the terrified nurse’s face was impossible to hide.
At that moment, I saw that several doctors who remained in their offices, despite the scandal in the waiting room, hadn’t bothered to come out to investigate what was happening.
“Ahhhh!” —the woman’s husband shouted— “She bit me!”
As soon as he finished speaking, he fell to the floor and began to convulse before everyone’s incredulous eyes.
“Get out of here!” —I muttered to the women near me.
“What’s wrong?” —one of them answered.
“Get out of here, it’s not safe” —despite my insistence, they stayed there, watching everything that was happening.
Gossip and recklessness move the world —I thought, while shaking my head in disapproval at their behavior.
The waiting room was still full of women, and to my amazement, more people had just arrived. I quickly passed by the chilling circumstance and headed toward the endocrinologist’s door. She was one of those who hadn’t come out to investigate what was happening. Something told me I should alert everyone to get out of there.
Now there were two guttural sounds echoing off the walls; it was all so unreal and impressive. I knocked on the door several times, but no one answered.
“Doctor, open the door” —I knocked insistently two more times—, “you must get out of here.”
“What’s happening out there? Is there someone with a gun?” —the fear was evident in her stammering.
“No, no!” —I tried to turn the doorknob and noticed my hand was shaking out of control— “there are two people having what I think is a psychotic break; they’re both convulsing, but I judge the doctors attending them need help.”
“Okay, I’ll open” —she let me in and closed the door immediately and locked it. I noticed there was a nurse under her desk, very nervous and crying. I also saw the black mascara running down the doctor’s cheek.
“Tell me, what did you see? What’s happening outside?”
“It’s hard to explain; it’s better you see it for yourself. Please, call your colleagues; there are still three office doors closed; not everyone has come out to see what’s going on.”
“I don’t blame them; it’s understandable; many of us thought it could be an attack or someone with a gun, I don’t know, so we decided to lock ourselves in the offices.”
“Someone with a gun couldn’t be stopped by a lock” —I answered while watching her type on her phone.
“I’ve already informed my other three colleagues in our WhatsApp group to come out and help, that there’s no gun danger.”
“I’ll leave; I think it’s the best I can do; another day I’ll come back to your appointment, doctor.”
“It’d be better if you stayed here until it all passes. Don’t run; you could fall or hurt yourself because of your overweight” —I perceived her tone as offensive.
Being skinny and educated is no use to you; clearly that doesn’t develop your emotional intelligence —I thought, and just shook my head before answering her:
“My weight isn’t relevant right now. The important thing is to help care for those two sick people. Later you’ll have time to make hurtful comments without knowing my background, doc-tor” —and I gave her a look of contempt— “Good luck!” —I murmured before leaving her office, closing the door harder than necessary.
Bitch, didn’t she notice I’m pregnant and not just overweight? Besides, it’s not appropriate to talk to a patient like that. Stupid, she’s just like most people who judge appearance without knowing the situation… well, of course, the same fat belly is frowned upon, but if it holds a baby inside, then yes, then the belly is cute and precious… fucking hypocrites! —my thoughts overflowed as usual, but when I focused on reality again, I realized not only the doctor would need luck; I would too.
Now there were many people convulsing on the floor, and the woman who had started the chaos was literally eating the entrails of another young woman.
The waiting room was deserted; everyone present was moving horribly on the floor, making guttural sounds and spine-chilling laments.
“Damn it, zombies” —I whispered. I looked around and noticed my only possibility of defense was a fire extinguisher on the wall. —”No, it’s too heavy” —I thought, and checked my bag for something I could protect myself with so I could run out of there.
The good thing was there was only one fully turned zombie, the first one, the pregnant woman who arrived with her husband; the others seemed not to have completed the change.
I thank God I’ve read many books about zombies —I thought while I kept looking inside my bag and found a pen. —”Damn it, it seems I’m a writer” —I scolded myself silently.
I gripped the pen firmly and began to move carefully, avoiding making noise and trying not to draw the attention of the deranged woman. I also had to avoid slipping in the pool of blood that had formed over much of the floor.
The endocrinologist’s scream startled me. I turned around and realized that, unlike me, she had been too shocked by the situation, to the point of doing everything you shouldn’t do in front of a zombie… scream!
I’m supposedly fat, but at least I know you shouldn’t scream or make noise among zombies, dumbass.
The zombie woman turned toward the sharp sound the doctor was still making, ignoring me completely, and within seconds, she ran toward her.
“Oh my God” —I muttered without thinking and started running to get away from there, dodging the pregnant women, doctors, and nurses convulsing over a lake of blood on the floor. Definitely, more reckless people had entered the waiting room during my short absence.
For a moment, I couldn’t run anymore, since without any warning and very abruptly, I felt someone grab me hard and pull me back, making me fall on my back on the floor. I felt a sharp pain in my lower back that traveled to my belly.
I began to hear that recognizable and horrible guttural sound very close to me.
God bless winter clothes and face masks —I thought—. The bastard couldn’t bite me because his face mask was still stuck to his face; and because I was wearing two pairs of pants and two thick sweaters to protect myself from the cold, since I’m very sensitive to low temperatures.
The one holding me was the pregnant woman’s husband, the one who was bitten first before everyone’s astonished eyes.
I kicked him several times hard in the head, and thanks to my seventeen years of karate practice, my kicks had an effect. Out of the corner of my eye, in my desperation to free myself, I saw how his zombie “wife” was tearing the endocrinologist’s neck, who screamed and struggled to get her off. I wasn’t going to let this bastard do the same to me.
The Caucasian man, his eyes now without pigment and purple veins spread all over his face, pulled me toward him again while I struggled to reach the pen that had rolled a little far away when the idiot knocked me down. I dragged myself and struggled with him until I managed to recover my small weapon. I took a breath and concentrated; I had a single move to make him let go of me. Once I aimed correctly, I pierced his eye with the pen. That was effective; he let go of me, not because it had hurt him —I was sure the tip of the pen had reached his brain; only because of that did he release his grip on me.
I crawled and stayed like that until I left the waiting room. I got up as fast as I could and moved away from that area of the hospital. Several people ran in different directions and, when they looked at me, moved away from me. I suppose being covered in blood didn’t inspire confidence in them.
Everything near that area was complete chaos, but I knew I wasn’t the real threat; the dangerous part was behind me.
I walked through several hallways and doors until I felt relatively safe inside the big hospital. I looked for my phone, and to my misfortune, the screen was broken.
“Damn it!” —I could barely control my hands; my choppy breathing threatened to make me throw up my lungs. I looked at the phone again and with my fingerprint I managed to turn on the screen; thank all the gods I’d left the family conversation open and could send a voice note.
I activated the recorder and tried to be as clear and concise as possible:
“Go home, please, there are zombies in the hospital; I’m not joking” —I put no emotion into my voice; I needed them to concentrate on staying calm and doing what I asked them.
I hoped my husband and daughter would believe me, although we used to joke about that topic.
I received a funny little face emoji. I couldn’t see clearly whose it was. That upset me, so I recorded them another voice note:
“Damn it, I’m not joking! I swear by this baby I’m carrying that what I’m telling you is true. Get out of wherever you are and go home. Zombies take a while to turn; we’ll have a chance to get home safe and sound.” —tears escaped me, and I wiped them quickly, as if that could calm me down.
I received two “Ok”s in response almost immediately.
That’s when I could relax, although that feeling lasted me only a short while, since I felt intense pain in my belly; it was hard, as if I had a heavy stone inside. It was my baby… poor thing, I’d hit him with my fall, not to mention all those unpleasant sensations he felt while I defended myself and died of fear.
“Mommy will always keep you somewhere safe, you can swear to that, baby” —I smiled, at the same time caressing my belly.
I looked around, and several sections of the place were lonely, or in absolute calm, as if no one knew what was happening. They walked so calmly, unaware of the danger they were in, and when I passed by them, they looked at me in amazement as if I were a serial killer or some rare insect. I suppose being all bloodied didn’t give them a good reference of who I was or could become.
“I have to warn them” —I stated. I took a breath and started shouting with all the power my voice allowed me.
“Zombies! There are zombies in the prenatal area, please! Run from here, go home. Get away from this place, run out of here!”
The response was imminent: Several people started laughing and looked at me like a lunatic.
“You’re in great danger! Run far away from here. The place is very big; if you do, you’ll be able to get out in time and save yourselves.”
They kept laughing.
Incredulous, they think I’m joking with them. Ah, but if I say two people are beating each other up or playing soccer in the hospital yard, then they’d run to see how it’s going. That excites them more than a horde of zombies —I rambled, frustrated.
I took an audible breath, preparing to shout again and warn them. Someone with an ounce of sense would have to believe me, but, to my relief, an alarm began to sound over the hospital speakers. While the powerful sound remained active, a female voice began to say:
“Attention, the hospital will close its doors. Attention, the hospital will close its doors.”
Ah, wonderful. Let’s see if now these dumbasses believe what I just shouted at them.
The alarm kept sounding, and the woman kept talking:
“Attention, please, do not try to leave the hospital. There is an unusual outbreak of a contagious disease. The authorities have been notified and are working to control the situation. Stay calm and follow the instructions of the staff qualified for this emergency. Do not try to leave the building. Your safety and that of the entire community is our priority, which is why the hospital will go into quarantine” —the message repeated once more before turning off.
My breathing became even more labored. I had reached the hospital’s main door, but it was already locked. I pounded on the door desperately, hoping someone would let me out, but there was no answer.
I looked back and saw that several people had begun to gather in the main waiting room, evidently confused and scared by the alarm and the messages they’d heard. Some cried, others argued among themselves.
“Please, open the door for me!” —I shouted with all my strength, pounding the door’s glass with my elbows and hands.
No one paid attention to me. They were too worried about their own safety and that of their loved ones.
The pain in my belly continued, and I knew I couldn’t stay trapped there. I had to find a way out. I looked around for a solution. The windows were sealed and there was no other door in sight.
Then, I remembered a side door leading to the parking lot. It wasn’t far from where I was. I ran toward it, desperate to find a way out before the situation got worse.
When I got to the door, I tried to open it, but it was also locked. I looked around for a solution and noticed a fire extinguisher on the wall. I tore it off and hit the door handle with all my strength until it finally gave way.
I went out to the parking lot, but the scene wasn’t much better. The place was packed with cars, and most people seemed to have no idea what was happening. They looked so calm; some tried to open their vehicles with their keys, others talked on their phones, trying to get information —I didn’t know if it was about what they’d heard over the speaker or simply a regular call.
“I have to get out of here” —I started running toward the main gate. It wasn’t that far away.
The recording seemed to start again, but it stopped, and another woman began to speak:
“Don’t run, don’t worry, stay where you are. Our administration is committed to caring for and protecting you with the best protocol our hospital has.”
“Yeah, right. They’re just going to contain the outbreak” —I murmured while I kept walking fast toward the main gate.
My mind was full of fear and confusion, but I knew I had to find a way to get home and reunite with my family.
When I was about to leave, a man grabbed me by my bag quite roughly, and made me stop.
“Ma’am, you can’t leave the place; we must remain locked in here.”
I didn’t think twice before acting. I stepped on him hard, and when he leaned his body toward me, I hit him in the nose.
“No, it’s not a biological attack or a contagious disease; that doesn’t spread through the air or by breathing; they’re zombies, idiot. They only affect you if they bite or scratch you; they’re lying to you… Let me go!”
The man seemed to analyze my words very quickly, frowning.
“Whatever it is, I still can’t let you go” —he insisted, coming closer to me again. I looked toward the gate, and they were starting to close it.
“I’m sorry, but here I won’t be able to protect my baby.”
I kicked him in the private parts and then punched him in the stomach.
“If I were you, I’d get out of here” —I shouted at him, all euphoric, before starting to run again toward the gate that was about to close.
Luckily, I managed to get out of the place, and seconds later the gate closed behind me.
I walked a bit to the fence area so I could see inside the hospital, and I noticed that three zombies were running toward the man I’d just hit.
Those zombies will get out of control very fast —I looked carefully at the fence’s structure— that won’t hold either.
I didn’t stay there to watch him die. I started running as much as my pregnancy allowed me, and as soon as I felt my breath cut short, I stopped the pace and kept walking at a very fast step, but looking everywhere to see if any zombie was approaching me.
The city went on with its day as if nothing had happened. I took off my bloodied clothes and stayed only with what I had underneath: a very fine wool sweater with long cotton pants.
Several taxis passed, but none stopped. On the third or fourth try, one decided to stop. I got in, gave him my address trying to be coherent and not let my voice tremble so much, since all that adrenaline I’d experienced was beginning to come down.
“Please, could you find a radio station with the news on?” —I asked him with the fakest smile I’d given in years.
The man nodded and started looking for a station.
I passed my right hand over my left and felt it cold. It trembled as if they’d thrown me into a pool full of ice. I knew the weather didn’t help, and that I’d always been very chilly, but I was sure this was a sign the situation had overwhelmed me.
The stations only had music.
“As always, the authorities won’t tell anyone until it’s too late” —I whispered.
“Do you need anything, ma’am?” —the taxi driver looked at me in the rearview mirror.
I shook my head, but I let myself be carried away by that impulse of justice and sincerity that characterized me.
“When you drop me off at my home, I want you to look for your family and protect yourself at home or somewhere with a good fence; get to the safest place you can think of; don’t forget to look for supplies like food, water, and candles; something terrible I just witnessed at the maternity hospital; I’m not lying to you; I swear it by the most sacred thing there is.”
The man didn’t say a word, but he sped up his car.
Something inside me told me he did believe me.
When I got home, I felt the relief of seeing my daughter had already arrived; that didn’t surprise me, since her school was only two blocks from my house.
“Where’s Jesús?” —I asked, all hysterical, looking for him all over the house, as if with the force of my anxiety he could materialize in the place.
“He hasn’t arrived yet, mom; he just called me because he couldn’t reach you; he told me he’s close by… he’s coming in a taxi” —she frowned, bringing her hand toward my face; and continued— “What’s that blood, mommy? Are you okay? You and the baby?” —I moved away so she wouldn’t touch me. I didn’t want her to have contact with any strange fluid—. “You have blood on your face, you’re all disheveled, and you even have something stuck in your hair; I think it’s blood mixed with something else” —her face of disgust and shock scandalized me.
“It’s not mine, don’t worry; I fell onto a pool of blood when a zombie attacked me.”
I thank that good man who stopped his taxi to bring me; no wonder several drove on by. I’m a total wreck.
My daughter sat silently on the sofa; I was sure that at that moment she believed everything I’d told her in the voice notes.
I walked to the bathroom, turned on the heater, and got in with all my clothes on under the showerhead. Once there, I began to undress. The white tiles began to turn crimson.
About two minutes later, I heard someone start knocking on the door.
“Open the door, my girl, only for your father; let him in and immediately close it well again; don’t open it for anyone else” —I had to lean forward a bit to throw up the water I’d drunk during the morning, along with my bile, because I had no solids in my stomach.
The benefits of fasting and having no food in my stomach until eleven in the morning.
“I’m here, my love” —Jesús’s voice made my heart leap.
Thank you, universe, because my two loves are with me at home, safe and sound.
“Come, my love, I’m taking a shower” —I kept fighting my retching.
“Oops, when will that vomiting stop? Poor thing, my love” —not caring that his clothes were going to get wet, he hugged me so I could keep fighting the strong retching that only made me throw up a bit of greenish liquid.
As best I could, I answered him in a low tone so our conversation wouldn’t keep upsetting my daughter, because knowing her, I already knew she was scheming how to help in the situation:
“Did you see any? Did you manage to see any zombie?”
He shook his head.
“No, everything is as always…” —he cleared his throat and continued— “Don’t get upset about what I’m going to ask, but are you sure about what you told us in those voice notes?”
What I’d like most right now is for it all to be a game… a lie —I thought.
“Yes, I even fought one. And I had to hit one of the doormen there to get out. In fact, they sent everyone in the hospital into a kind of quarantine or something; I barely managed to get out of there. I think right now everyone must be dead.”
“What are we going to do?” —he caressed my belly, and for the first time in years, I noticed fear in his eyes.
“We have to find a safer place and supplies; the best thing is to get away from the city and go inland, to a lonelier place; staying here is counterproductive.”
He hugged me, and staying like that, he just told me:
“You’re right. Together we’ll take care of each other, and we’ll protect our baby.”
That was the last day we had a conversation without hearing in the distance or nearby the guttural sounds of those horrible and insatiable flesh eaters.
Are you still living without knowing what happened here in Paraguay? I hope you’re safe, and if not, don’t believe the authorities; look for shelter; you’re still in time to save yourselves.
****
“Carefully chosen words have an even deeper impact than what your eyes can perceive. Pay attention to what you say and how you communicate it.”
Kassfinol
And with this story as a gift, this is how I inform the world that after seventeen years I’m a mom again.
With love: Kasandra Finol.