Family Practice
[WP] Even in a zombie apocalypse, the duty of a doctor will not stop.
With reading glasses slid to the tip of his nose, the old man reads through the paper’s article. He sits in his old recliner, in his robe and underwear with half a glass of whiskey on the table next to him. He scoffs and downs the rest of the drink. He shakes his head as he rolls the glass around in his palm.
He throws the glass and it bursts against the far wall. “Bunch of brain dead pricks. Wouldn’t know malpractice if it bit ’em in the ass.” He scoffs and rereads sections of the article. “Unethical? Inhumane? Don’t they see what’s going on out there? How in the hells are we supposed to figure any of this out if we don’t try anything new? I’ve been running my own family practice for 37 years! What makes a 20 something year old brat think he knows better than I do?”
A knock sounds on the front door. The old doctor looks towards the front door and then over to the clock. 11:47. “Who in the world would be here at this hour?” He closes his robe and makes his way to the front window. He peers out, seeing only blackness. The knock comes again. “Who’s there?” He leans against the door but hears no response. Again, a knock.
Growing impatient, the doctor reaches over and flips on the porch light before yanking open the door. “What in the hell do you–” He cuts short as he recognizes the corpse standing in his doorway. “Francis? Geez! You’re all climbing out of your graves now too?
Francis takes a lumbering step through the doorway and the doctor back pedals, trying to find furniture to put between them. “Now just stay back.” He finally backs into a rack next to the fire place and pulls out a fire poker.
Francis casually walks past the doctor. He walks over to the kitchen table, pulls out a chair, then sits down before looking over at the doctor, expectantly. The doctor just stares, confused. Francis finally raises a hand and points to his right jaw where bone is exposed. The doctor shakes his head. “I realize you were a faithful patient Francis but this is a little ridiculous. I must be dreaming.”
The doctor zones out and looks away from the kitchen. Francis groans and points at his jaw more insistently. “Yeah, I can see that Francis. Your jaw is rotted through. What did you expect? You’ve been dead for over a year.”
Another knock raps on the door. The doctor and Francis both look to the door then back to one another. “Did you bring anyone with you?” Francis just stares blankly and his teeth click together in response. The doctor shakes his head. “I’m talking to a corpse, expecting a coherent response. I really am loosing my mind.”
The knock comes again and the doctor goes back to the front door. He pulls it open to see a line of former patients leading away from the front door. “Barbra? And Ron? Is that little Susie back there too?” The doctor rubs the back of his head before pushing the glasses higher up on his nose. “This is going to be a long, awkward night.”