Brandy was a morgue tech at Saint Esmeralda's Hospital. Brandy was used to dead bodies. There was a peace to them, most of the time. She had taken her certified nursing aide classes with Angie. They'd differed on their eventual goals, but had kept in touch. They lived in the same apartment complex by the hospital.
Another girl they knew, Marie, was working hospice care. Brandy and Angie both thought that was the more shredding option, emotionally speaking. Angie saw people who were fighting to live; Brandy saw them after they'd lost the fight; Marie was there while they were going down for the count.
Brandy was now locked in a room with dead coming back, dead rising, dead trying to live again. This was not real. This was some weird side effect of coffee, sleep deprivation, vending machine food.
This could not be real. Brandy did not live in that world. Brandy's world was neat, tidy, orderly.
Brandy's world was the room she was locking behind her as she went to get her lunch. She was not staying in there with her hallucinations.
Brandy grabbed her cell phone and started calling Angie.
"Angie, I'm having a psychotic break."
"You're too old for that."
"No. I saw...I saw bodies coming back."
"Yeah, us too."
"What?"
"And the power's out here. It's not at the hospital?"
"...you saw a dead body?"
"It came towards the balcony. Clock out. Come back to the apartment. Hell, come over to our place. We've got candles and flashlights and...strength in numbers?"
"You're crazy too."
"I think we all are right now, Bran."
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