The streets are bare, free of pedestrians and automobiles. I plow through the clouds of smoke, never sure if something will be waiting for me on the other side. I head for the airstrip. If I can get near there and see where the plane crashed, I can get an idea of the direction they would’ve headed, and that should lead me to West.
The thick smoke turns into a dense fog, and I squint, trying to see through it, but my efforts are useless. Bodies emerge in the distance.
“Shit!” I slam on the brakes and shift the truck into reverse.
The Zombies bloat the roads, flooding onto the side streets and charging for me.
I back into an alleyway to turn the truck around and head back up the street I came down. I make a right and slam on the gas, unable to see behind me with the smoke so thick. But I know the Creations are coming after me too. The Guidance’s Creations will do anything to keep me from making it back to my group, even if that means using the legion of Zombies to their advantage.
I happen upon West and slam on the break, stopping in the intersection. To my left, I scope out the street. I can’t see through the smog. But that’s likely the direction I need to go.
The steering wheel is clutched tightly in my hands as I pull it left and ease off the break. I firmly press my foot to the gas and allow the Humvee to pick up speed. The buildings fly by until the front of the truck plows into the mob of Zombies.
I stay on the gas, gritting my teeth and gripping the wheel until the truck is forced to stop. The Zombies slap and claw at the metal and windows, snarling as they snap to get to me.
I search the truck for the Creations’ extra ammunition, usually packed and stashed away in the backseat. I find it tucked under the seat and pull it to me. The duffel bag is light in weight. “Ugh,” I grumble. “Those Creations were clean, there’s no way they ran out of ammunition that quickly.”
I unzip the bag and find two regular grenades and a full magazine with regular rounds. I take in a sharp breath and release it, slamming my head against the headrest once.
“Alright. It’s okay, Ky. You can work with this.”
I pry my eyes open and look around at the ocean of Zombies surrounding the vehicle. “You always said if you had to go out, you wanted to go out in battle. I don’t think it gets worse than this.”
I stuff the extra mag in a pocket of the vest and hold the two grenades in my left hand. On the driver’s seat, I climb onto my knees and pop open the roof. Standing, I keep my breaths even to avoid inhaling a lungful of smoke. The air’s rotten with decomp and stale blood. The snarls of the Zombies sound like a lasting thunder, and their arms and bodies thrashing about are like angry waves.
I scan the surrounding five buildings. One is a place for eating; it’s one level and sits on the corner in front of a larger white building with mirror-like windows. Across the street is a building that goes up five floors; its windows are clear and the lack of sun brightening the city makes it easy to see the office-like setting inside. Across from it, on the third corner from me, another five-level building takes up the entire corner. The top has black windows, and the first level of the building is made up of glass. Clutter blocks the doors, but a few of the windows are shattered and Zombies have flooded in.
That’s it. Institute of Metagenetic. The name is engraved in the glass windows of the second level. “The lab…”
Over the growls of the Zombies, there’s a rumbling of revving engines.
I climb to the roof of the Humvee and steady myself so that I don’t fall off. With another glance over the Zombies, I pull the pins from the grenades and toss them into the crowd in the direction of the lab. Snatching the knives from their holsters, I take them tightly in my hands.
“Don’t drop. Don’t doubt. Don’t stop until you’re out. You got this, Ky.”
I squat to brace myself against the explosion of the grenades. They go off simultaneously.
I leap into the crowd of Zombies, stabbing the ones nearest me in the head. I kick the ones in my path and spin out of the way of the other’s attacks.
There are too many of them. I’ve only gained inches toward the lab.
I wanted to reserve the bullets, but I need to make it through this more quickly. My shoulders are getting tight, and every time I yank my knife from a Zombie’s head, their blood sprays in my face. They’re everywhere, at my back and sides.
I snatch the gun from my waist and plow them down, making a path as I climb over their bodies and hurry forward. Ten rounds, gone. I make it to the broken glass and climb in, ducking behind a shelf to avoid the Zombies milling about on the inside.
It’s hard to catch my breath, and I don’t have enough time to sit, but I want to.
There’s an explosion that makes me snap up. A blinding light encamps the building, and blazing heat wraps around my body. I should’ve kept moving.
Chapter Nineteen
*Marc*
An explosion shakes the underground passageway.
I throw my arms over my head as rocks beat down on top of us. Rumbles roar down the tunnel and back, vibrating the rock-strewn ground and shaking the cave walls. Bent at the hip from the low ceiling, I awkwardly maneuver through the tunnel, led by a couple of Creations who came to our rescue when the Zombies crashed into the labs, delivering us to a safety shaft that dropped us into this cave-like passage clouded by dust and grime. The Creations say it leads to a bunker a few miles down. My muscles spasm from the amount of time we’ve been cramped down here.
“Wait a minute.” Isaiah, one of the Creations leading, stops us. “I need to find the entry from over here.” He runs ahead.
I blink the rock dust from my eyes and check on Sean at the front of our line on the other side of Seits.
Jord, in front of me, looks away from Seits beside him and says, “That may be the third dynamite we set going off.”
At the end of the line, I check behind me at the blocked path, crowded by fallen rock and debris.
“Okay,” Isaiah comes jogging back down the tunnel. His twin, Ingram behind him. “I found us an entry to the sewer passage from over here.” A flashlight is strapped to his arm. The light jumps over the group of us huddled against a wall.
Crouched to avoid knocking his head against the sharp rock, Jord moves in front of Sean to shake Isaiah’s hand. “Thank you for your help. We were outmanned up there. If it had not been for you lifting that hatch, that would’ve been the end of our road.”
“And I would’ve hated going out as a Zombie’s meal!” Sean throws his arms out as he straightens his back and smashes his head against the rock. “Argh!”
I lift my gaze to the dark rock and shake my head. “Why do you think he’s hunched over, Sean?” I punch him in the back. “Be smarter.”
Sean groans, rubbing his head.
Isaiah snickers. “You’re all welcome. When a Creation needs help, we’re usually right there.” He chucks his thumb over his shoulder. “The opening is a mile down. Watch your heads on the way. It doesn’t seem like the boring of this tunnel was properly completed.”
We must be at least eight feet underground, trotting through this safety passage I assume was built under Highrum years ago.
Ingram passes each of us a small flashlight. “We may need to stay down here until those Rumblers move out. They’re covering blocks up there.”
“Rumblers, huh?” Sean laughs once. “That’s a cool name for them.”
“It is,” I follow. I look behind me once more, checking the shadows are empty and we’re still clear. We lost the flight attendants to the first line of Zombies, and the two Normals quickly turned and attacked us too.
“Since we won’t be able to make it above ground, we’ll take you all to our spot.”
“I hate to break it to you, but underground and in shadows is where they like to hide. You’re nestled in their comfort zone,” Jord says. He looks behind him to check on Seits, and she gives him a nod. “Your best bet is a high-rise. They can’t climb.”
“T
hey’ll climb up each other, though,” Sean says.
We remain crouched, shuffling single file to the opening Isaiah mentioned. We make it to a circular door with a steel wheel with five spokes. Isaiah raps his flashlight against the door rhythmically six times. It’s shoved open, and a gust of wind shoots through the tunnel as though it’s been years since someone has cracked it open. The gravel and rock dust rustle around us and blow off our shoulders. Isaiah enters first, and Ingram waves us forward.
I’m the last one through the door and help a man with silver hair and a protruding Adam’s apple tug the steel door closed. He spins the wheel to seal it shut. Metal planks push across the door and find their slots in metal holders drilled into the concrete wall.
“Thanks for your help.” He extends his hand. “I’m Napoleon.”
I accommodate his handshake and nod once. “Marc. Sean,” I gesture to my brother standing near Jord. They speak to a woman over a basket of fruit on a table. “General Jord and General Seits, they’re my commanders.”
Napoleon nods and heads for them. He gestures to the woman I noticed standing near Jord. “My twin is Gwendoline.” He says to the room, “We’re good for now, everyone. They weren’t followed.”
I look around the room, sweeping my gaze over the pairs of Creations spread out around their underground bunker. The walls and ceiling are plated with steel, and the ground has been smoothed down. Nothing like the passage we hustled along moments ago. Twin beds line a wall accompanied by small tables topped with a lamp. In front of each bed is a chest topped with an extra blanket. On the other end of the room, there’s a long counter with two faucets. Beside it are three plastic columns that reach the ceiling, I assume for their water reserve.
“You all live down here?” I ask Napoleon.
Napoleon presses his lips in a hard line and nods. “We made it as comfortable as we can.” He leads me to the table, and he introduces himself to Jord and Seits.
Sean comes to my side with an orange and a bottle of water. “Thanks.” I bump my fist against his shoulder.
He nudges me with an elbow to my side. “I’ve always told you I was the better brother.”
Napoleon sees to it that the four of us have food and water. He motions for us to sit on the ground with him, but we remain standing. They have beds but no seating or refrigeration. I screw the top back on the warm water and twist the bottle in my hands.
“Where you all headed back to Desert Hills?” Napoleon asks.
“We were.” Jord swallows hard after downing his bottle of water. He crushes the bottle and Gwendoline snatches it from him before he can toss it aside. Jord drags an insulted gaze away from her and looks back at Napoleon. “Our plane crashed. There must’ve been something faulty with the engine.”
Gwendoline creases her forehead. Sitting next to Napoleon, she runs her fingers through her hair slung over her left shoulder and arches a sly brow. “You think it was an accident?”
Seits crooks her index finger under her chin. “Of course,” she says firmly as though the inquisition is preposterous.
“I doubt it,” a man says behind us.
We look in his direction, seeing a dark-haired man sitting on the ground, glowering at us. “How do you mean?” Seits asks.
Napoleon stands with Gwendoline rising beside him. They stare at us with frowns and pursed lips. Napoleon rubs the back of his neck. His free hand flies up at this side and falls. “I don’t know. Maybe we’re wrong.”
“No way,” Sean carries, waving his hand for them to continue. “Out with the details. You all are too ominous, and we don’t like that kind of shit.”
“He’s right,” I say, seconding Sean, facing the two other Creations directly. “We don’t.” Napoleon and I stand the same height; Gwendoline is a hair shorter. If I wrap my hand around their forearms my thumb and fingers would touch. Taking them on with their pale skin and slim frames wouldn’t be fair.
Jord says, “We appreciate your help, but if we can’t trust you, we should be on our way.”
Napoleon gestures to his right with a nod and a flick of his wrist. He starts for another passage at the other end of the bunker near the counter.
“Fuck no,” Sean says in my ear. “I’m not following their creepy asses down that dark ass tunnel.”
“It leads to another area of our underground corridor.” A small girl, standing the height of my shoulder, comes up behind us. She wears a dress that’s decorated in flowers, and her red hair sweeps her shoulders. “I’m Angie. They aren’t trying to be weird. You all are just quite intimidating.” She squeezes between Sean and I to pass us.
I look at the open space on both sides of us that she could have more easily accessed to pass. “I’d say all of you are quite weird.”
She heads to the tunnel, strutting across the floor in a way that makes her green dress brush the thighs of her amber legs. She slams her hand on a black button mounted on corrugated steel. Floodlights hooked to high rails flick on section by section. The tunnel is arched, and the walls and ceiling are made of metal. It leads to another sealed door where Napoleon and Gwendoline wait for us. They pull it open more easily than the first.
I slap the back of my hand against Sean’s chest. “Let’s check it out. They may be weird, but they aren’t a threat.” Plus, if they do try anything, I doubt they’ll get the best of us.
We head through the quarter-mile tunnel to another bunker, larger than the first. The ceiling is higher, and sunlight is allowed in through a thin window near the top of the wall. The beam doesn’t make it down here but only shines against the opposite wall. Floodlights line the metal walls, hooked on three levels of rails that reach the ceiling. Stretchers, cots, and table carts cover the floor. Groaning humans and Creations lie on the cots, pleading for aid from injuries caused by gunshot wounds and other types of attacks. Physicians tend to their needs, but there aren’t enough of them to care for everyone.
Angie walks ahead of us, taking a path along the wall of the ward. We follow her. She says, “About a year ago we discovered the Guidance were killing off first- and second-generation Creations. They started with the City Maintenance Creations first and then the Groundkeepers. They ordered the Fighters, like yourselves, to do the dirty work. It started here in Highrum and slowly began making its way around the country.” She approaches a trench dug deeper in the ground. Bodies of deceased Creations are piled in the hole, bodies riddled with gunshot wounds. She quickly leaves it, going to what seems to be the recovery wing of the bunker. “It was the outbreak of Zombies that put a stop to it, but only because they were a distraction. We’ve heard about Zombies quickly overrunning cities and even states. Had the Guidance not taken out so many Creations, I believe they would have had a handle on it.” She shrugs. “But we’re done here. They’re replacing us.”
Seits crosses her arms, and her shoulders and biceps buckle threateningly. “How do you know this? We’ve heard nothing of the sort.”
Angie faces us. Sadness clouds her features, but she doesn’t let it sound in her sober tone. She squints her eyes and points. “Desert Hills, right?” We nod. “So Separation. You’re needed. You take care of the wars and are the best defense they have against our enemies.” Crossing her arms, she narrows her eyes when she looks at Sean and me. She points to us. “Marc and Sean Thanatos, am I right? Creations who single-handedly took down the Havoc Terrorists.” She chortles. “They say it was hundreds of them that attacked Illinois. They dropped from their planes and roped off towns and cities, wiping out innocent humans and taking over the state. Creations died trying to take them down because they knew the secret to the healing. But you two, while still boys in training, came through like thieves in the night. They never knew what hit them. You saved Illinois and any other place in the America they intended to attack.”
Sean waves his hand dismissively. “Don’t exaggerate. It wasn’t hundreds,” he adds emphasis on the S, carrying it on for nearly ten seconds, “it was only about a hundred.”
“We’re not here for that. And thank you,” I say.
Angie flips her red hair over her shoulder as she turns to leave, saying, “Don’t thank us. Your turn to be on the chopping block is coming soon enough. Unless they think they were successful in shooting down your plane.”
Sean takes the spot Angie left, standing with his hands on his hips. “She was kind of rude and nice at the same time. Anyone else pick that up?”
Napoleon jumps in before any of us can respond. “We used to work directly under the Guidance. We heard them discussing the annexation of Creations. It started off as them capturing us and then killing us off. They don’t realize how intelligent they made us though.” He walks to a round steel table in the middle of the floor. We sit on the chairs placed around it, and he continues, “Once we found out, we started looking for safety. We stumbled upon this,” he gestures around him, “when one of us fell into a sewer. It’s long been forgotten. We checked every map just to make sure. So we cleared it out, added lighting, electricity, and water. It allows us to give the people who need a safe place a home or temporary dwelling.”
“Napoleon! Gwendoline!” A stocky boy comes charging into the relief bunker. “Haley has been hurt!” He pants, waving for them to follow. “Come quick!”
Napoleon races for the tunnel, Gwendoline straggling behind him. The panic floods through the tunnel into the aid bunker, chatter and fear rustling amongst the injured.
The group of us exchange glances before we head back into the first bunker where a few people are huddled over a small woman’s body. Creations drenched in sweat and dust shout for help while those who were resting moments ago are on their feet, asking what happened.
The Separation Trilogy Box Set: Books 1 -3 Page 75
