“Looks like he’s going to the prison – there’s no place else round here,” said Lopez.
“Are those wires?” said Maurice, peering forwards.
The van pulled away hastily as the lights turned green. In its wake was a second vehicle – a pickup truck, which followed, at a clear distance behind the other. Lucy’s heart skipped a beat as her eyes glimpsed the second driver. It was a face she’d hoped never to see again. His gleaming white robe was gone. Instead, he wore a yellow hazmat suit, onto which a symbol was painted. A black ring with a horizontal line through. Over the suit dangled his crimson necklace. In the blink of an eye, he was gone, hotly pursuing the van.
Fear coursed through Lucy’s veins. The Preacher was here, and he was targeting the prison. There could only be one reason. Lucy kicked the engine into life.
“What are you doing? We have to wait for the others,” said Lopez.
Lucy swung their truck around the corner and barreled down the main avenue, after the disappearing vehicles. Theirs were much faster than hers. An articulated bus pulled out across the intersection up ahead, forcing Lucy to brake sharply. The driver punched his horn furiously as Lucy swerved around the obstacle. The delay cost them precious seconds. The vans had disappeared from view.
She raced forwards but the vehicles were nowhere to be seen. With a deep, echoing boom, an explosion sounded out across the neighborhood. A thick plume of smoke shot up into the sky ahead of them. It was coming from the prison.
They sped around the complex perimeter and rounded the backstreet, hastening towards the secluded entrance. The gate was wide open, with no sign of forced entry. She rushed the truck through, narrowly missing the height limiter as they lurched past the vacant guard tower and into the parking lot.
The reception was a smoldering wreck of blasted brick, glass, and twisted metal. The burning remains of the first van lay split across the floor, spewing a torrent of fire and smoke upward. The upper stories were crumbling, and chunks of brick and plaster crashed downwards in clusters.
The second van had mounted the sidewalk at the edge of the main building. Its doors were open, and the insides deserted. Opposite the van was a side door to the main prison building. It looked like it had been blasted open with a shotgun. Screams emanated from the darkness. Lucy grabbed the key and shoved her door open. Lopez seized her arm.
“You wanna run in there and get killed too? They outnumber us. Our best chance is to save the others,” said Lopez.
“We can’t just sacrifice an entire level!” cried Lucy. “Adrian’s somewhere in there. Please, Ed – I have to find him!”
Lucy pulled her arm free and jumped out. Lopez cursed as he leaped out after her, tearing off his glasses. Maurice followed close behind, not daring to be left alone.
A buzzing sounded overhead. A surveillance drone was swooping down on the scene.
“Dammit, they know we’re here – we need to move fast,” said Lopez, shooting it down immediately.
He led them around the side of the building to a separate wing. Lucy prayed the Faithful didn’t hear the gunshot as they broke through the fire exit. Lucy burst in, sending a fresh shaft of daylight into the gloomy hallway. She stared in dismay at the sight that greeted them. Hundreds of infecteds lined the ward. They were packed into cells at six times their capacity. The emaciated, lesioned prisoners retreated into the shadows as the newcomers rushed in.
“There’s no way we can load this many,” stammered Maurice, “even if the other trucks come.”
“Just shut up and help get them moving, said Lopez, launching into the ward.
“Adrian! Senator Jeffries!” cried Lucy, desperately scouring the cells for signs of Dan’s father.
“Stand back!” yelled Lopez, shooting the lock of the first cell.
He pulled the door open and bellowed at the prisoners to get to the truck, hastily barking at Maurice and Lucy to shepherd them.
“Major, much as I respect your plan, I don’t think you’ve got enough ammo to break into every cell in this place,” yelled Maurice.
“Then make yourself useful, and go find us a key!” yelled Lopez.
Maurice looked nervously at Lucy, then raced off further into the building, cursing his loose tongue.
“Move!” cried Lucy, chivvying out the terrified occupants from their cells. But they weren’t responding.
“You didn’t say they were tied!” yelled Lopez.
Lucy stared at the prisoners in dismay. Not only were they delirious, but they were bound with zip ties at their wrists and ankles.
“They weren’t yesterday – this is new,” she stammered.
“Over here!” cried a woman, from the adjoining cell. She had wide eyes, and filthy matted hair. Her lesions were less advanced than those of her cellmates. She grasped the cell bars with her hands, desperately. “Help me! Help us! I’m awake!” she cried.
“Get back,” cried Lopez blasting her door open. The prisoners cowered and moaned in fear as the fourth gunshot echoed around the hall. Lopez charged into the cell and seized the woman’s wrists. Wrenching a knife up from his ankle, he cut through her ties, and handed her the blade.
“Get everyone out of here – get to the truck outside, you understand?” ordered Lopez, grabbing the woman by the shoulders.
The woman nodded, terrified, and set about cutting her cellmates free. Lucy finished blasting the remaining cells open and stepped back, dismayed.
“Why isn’t he here? I thought this level was for the newly infecteds, it doesn’t make any sense,” cried Lucy.
“Stick to the plan – we’ll find him, I swear. But right now we have to get to the rehab wards – you said they’d have the best chance of survival,” said Lopez.
“What if he’s not there?” cried Lucy.
“What if he is?” said Lopez.
She glanced around the corridor, begging for an answer to present itself. Only the echoing cries of those under attack greeted her ears. She bit her lip then pressed on for the stairwell. Lopez struggled after her, cursing his limp as they climbed to the fifth level.
Rows of alert, wide-eyed infecteds greeted them, all anxiously listening to the echoes of pain resonating across the complex.
“Listen up, we’re on your side! The prison is under attack. You need to get yourselves out of here, and run to wherever you can take shelter. Hide as best you can until nightfall, then get out of the city. We have backup coming, but it may be too late. Do not hide in groups bigger than three. Now move!” said Lopez, shooting the first lock open.
Lucy hurried into the cell and grabbed the wrists of an elderly infected man. She cut his ties, passed him a blade, and instructed him to free his cell mates.
Together, Lucy and Lopez blasted the remaining cells open, then hurried down to the level below. To Lucy’s astonishment, Maurice was there – with a key.
“Get to the next ward. You have to stop them,” he cried. He was white as a sheet, and his hands were trembling as he hurried to unlock the remaining cells.
Lucy pressed onwards, with Lopez in tow. She peered into the other wards as they passed by. The occupants were getting weaker, the further down they went.
“Where the hell’s our backup?” grunted Lopez, as they raced downwards.
Lucy kicked the Level Two door open, and the pair burst in, ready to liberate the prisoners. They stopped abruptly. The ward was decimated. Blood flowed into the central corridor freely, forming a network of red puddles. Lucy covered her mouth in horror, as her eyes moved across the slumped, bleeding bodies in each cell. Some prisoners were still dying. She stared in dismay as the life faded from their eyes.
A woman reached out a feeble arm towards Lucy, from her open cell. Her leg and midriff had been slashed open, and blood seeped from the wounds. Lucy swallowed. The Faithful were more adaptable than she’d given them credit for, trading in their robes and stones for hazmat suits and blades where the circumstances demanded it. Lucy hurried towards her, but the woman’s gaze did no
t move. She stared beyond Lucy’s head, murmuring imploringly at some unseen vision.
“We need to keep moving,” said Lopez, pressing forwards.
Lucy wrenched herself from the dying woman and followed after him, shuddering as her boots slapped against the wet floor.
As they entered the stairwell, a shot rang out, glancing off the brick wall beside Lopez’s head. They fell back instantly, sheltering behind the edge of a wall, beside the body of a dead technician. Lopez sidled towards the corner and peeped out. Another bullet rang out, forcing him back.
“God dammit, on three,” he whispered.
The pair jumped out and fired in unison. Lucy struck a Faithful soldier in the chest. The missionary fell to the ground, while another fled down a bloodied corridor.
Lucy and Lopez gave chase, leaping over the brutalized bodies of infecteds who’d been cut down as they’d tried to escape. Lucy raced towards the entrance of the next ward, but as she approached, a metallic clang rang out. A grenade had rolled into the corridor. Without thinking, she booted it back into the ward and threw herself behind the wall, covering her ears.
The explosion tore through the cells, blasting brick dust and shrapnel into Lucy’s corridor. Her ears rang as she realized what she’d done.
Screams began to resonate from the ward. She turned to check Lopez was OK, but he was already on his feet, charging into the carnage. Lucy fumbled in her pocket and dragged out her face mask. She tugged it on and delved into the swirling, cloudy chaos after him.
All around her came the sound of coughing, spluttering prisoners calling for help and crying in pain. Her foot collided with something firm. A mass of crumpled yellow plastic. Scorch marks had erased the symbol on the missionary’s torso. She stepped over the woman’s semi-charred corpse and proceeded through the mist. Shredded human flesh squished underfoot, making Lucy retch. Her heart pounded as she tried to decipher Lopez’s movements through the near-impenetrable dust.
Ahead, she glimpsed a flash of yellow – and another – darting through a gap in the wall. A doorway! She hurried towards it, into the adjoining corridor, where the dust cleared.
Gunshots echoed from the stairwell. A door slammed on the level above. Lucy raced upwards. Lopez was there, panting, with his back pressed to the wall. The door to the ward was sealed shut. The glass window at eye level was cracked, where Lopez had shot it.
“You OK?” she said.
He grunted, catching his breath.
“Bulletproof glass. Must be a high security level. I count two of them inside,” said Lopez, panting. “They’ve sealed the door.”
Muffled screams rang out as the two missionaries butchered their way through the stock of captives.
“We need to keep moving,” said Lopez.
“But–”
“There’s nothing we can do here. We have to focus on the other wards – they still have a chance,” insisted Lopez.
Sick to her core, Lucy tore herself from the bulletproof door, and hurried after Lopez. As they raced through the ground level, a sign caught Lucy’s eye.
N.I.2.
“N.I. – Newly Infecteds… Ed, wait! This way!” cried Lucy, backtracking and sprinting for the ward entrance.
“Lucy, what are you doing?” called Lopez, staggering after her.
She burst through the door, pistol in hand. The floor was in disarray. There was no blood, but there were dozens of disoriented infecteds occupying the central avenue. Maurice must have liberated it within the past few minutes.
A bottleneck had formed at the rear exit. Many of the infecteds were still bound at the wrists. The majority were in the early stages of their infection, mostly lucid and agile. They screamed in terror as they saw Lucy’s gun.
“It’s OK – we’re on your side! I’m looking for someone! Adrian?” she cried.
Gunshots rang out from the corridor beyond. A fresh wave of screams rippled across the crowd. The prisoners at the front reversed their direction. Lucy watched in horror as people fell and trampled upon each other in their panic to retreat. The infected mob stampeded towards Lucy’s doorway.
“Senator Jeffries!” she cried.
It was impossible to be heard above the terrified cries. Prisoners jostled her as they fled. Lopez battled against the tide, striving for the front exit. More shots rang out. Two retreating prisoners fell before Lucy’s eyes. Lopez took up position by the far doorway and returned fire into the corridor.
Lucy desperately scanned the fleeing crowd. There was no sign of Dan’s father. She called out his name, desperately searching the emptying space.
“Adrian?” she cried, pacing the emptying space.
A groan greeted her from the shadows. Lucy stopped. It was coming from one of the evacuated cells. She stepped inside the squalid cube.
“Adrian!” she cried, falling at his feet.
His skin was raw with lesions, and his eyes wild with fever.
“Where is my boy, my precious boy? Dan? Son?” called Adrian, shouting at something unseen.
A knot twisted in Lucy’s stomach. She threw his arm around her shoulder and tried to drag him from the cell but he resisted.
“Leave me alone – I’m meeting him here! Dan?” cried Adrian.
Lucy looked at him in despair. His fever was dangerously high. He looked distraught, as his eyes darted across the chamber.
“Adrian, you have to come with me – it’s not safe here,” begged Lucy.
“I’m not leaving without my son. Dan!” he cried, clinging to the side of the cell.
Each use of her partner’s name cut through her like a knife. She could think of no alternative but to lie.
“I’ll take you to him. He’s this way – come on, I’ll show you,” she implored.
“Dan’s with you?” said Adrian, looking directly at her for the first time. His eyes were wide and watery with all the hopes of a lost child.
“Yes, Dan’s with me,” choked Lucy, leading Adrian out by the hand.
Lopez joined them as they hurried after the fleeing infecteds, The mob was rushing towards the slithers of daylight ahead. They picked up more stragglers as they ran. One lesion-covered patient had made it to the corridor, but had slipped into a hallucination. They banged their head against the wall, calling a single name over and over.
Lucy gripped Adrian’s hand tightly as she fought her way through the crowd. By the time they reached the front, they were at the atrium. Pockets of fire burned amidst the rubble. Some infecteds tried to pick their way through the debris, but shards of brick cut their bare feet.
Lucy spotted a fire exit on the adjacent corridor. As she ran towards it, she prayed their backup had arrived.
“This way,” she cried, keeping Adrian and the crowd with her.
She forced the fire door open. The forecourt outside was crawling with bewildered infecteds.
Two Humvees skidded into the parking lot before them.
“Finally!” said Lucy, waving to the cavalry.
“Wait – they’re not ours!” cried Lopez, grabbing her arm.
“Get down on the ground!” came a cry from the first truck.
Lopez heaved Lucy and Adrian backwards, but several of the delirious inmates kept running. Bullets felled two of them immediately.
The soldiers wore gloves, face masks, and ordinary flak jackets. They leaped from their truck and opened fire on any infecteds that hadn’t immediately laid down. The semi-lucid escapees scattered in a panic. Some fled across the grass, only to be shot against the high stone walls. Others wandered, dazedly, blinking at the cloudy sky. Those who surrendered were tased and swiftly cuffed with zip ties, then abandoned face-down on the concrete.
“Fall back!” called Lopez, pushing back against the tide he and Lucy had created.
A scream rang out from the back of the pack. Lucy spun around to see a yellow-suited missionary raise his machete. She dropped Adrian and tried to take aim but the crowd was panicking, stampeding towards the exit. Lopez fired a warning shot
into the ceiling, causing the infecteds to duck down, instinctively. Without hesitation, Lucy seized her chance and fired at the missionary. He stumbled backwards and disappeared from view. She pushed her way through the crowd until she reached his body. The attacker was dead, but his victim was alive, screaming beside him from the colossal wound to her back.
Lucy cast her eyes around the corridor – the parking lot was their only escape. She fought her way back to Lopez. He was calling on the soldiers to surrender, while making outlandish claims about the number of armed soldiers he had at his disposal. The enforcement squad responded with another shower of bullets, which pinned him back against the wall.
Fresh cries of alarm interrupted the barrage. A branch splintered off from the rust tree in the forecourt. It landed on the concrete below with a wet thud. The branch cracked open lengthways, and the two halves rocked onto their backs, revealing a clear gelatinous core. A rusty pigment diffused through the substance, which began to bubble.
Droplets splashed onto the surrounding concrete, where they formed swirling domes. Inside each, a tubular body took shape, quickly sprouting legs, antennae, and wings. In unison, the domes popped open, and fully-formed butterflies wriggled onto the concrete. They shook off the gelatinous remnants and took to the air in a flurry.
The soldiers turned to fall back to their vehicles, but a second tree had split open by the trucks, ushering forth another plume of fluttering insects.
“Freeze!” ordered the sergeant.
All of the troops froze. But as they stared at the unfolding kaleidoscope, one soldier lost his nerve. He sprinted for the nearest truck. The two swarms changed direction immediately and surrounded him, cloaking him in a vortex of red and orange. Within a few seconds he had dropped to the ground.
“This way, hurry!” cried Lucy beckoning the other soldiers their way.
“Are you crazy? They’re trying to kill us!” hissed Lopez.
The sergeant glanced at the swirling mass, and at Lucy’s doorway. She gritted her teeth then bellowed the order.
As the soldiers sprinted for the doorway, the butterflies broke formation again, peeling away from their first victim and sweeping towards the fleeing group.
Convulsive Box Set Page 79
