“That there is. Kinda like that time in Usnijanar, remember? You, me, that piece of shit Grier on the way to the extraction point with... What was it, thirty? Forty insurgents between us?”
“That was a shit show for sure,” Jack said, smiling in spite of the dark nature of the memory. “We made it though.”
“Without a scratch I might add. Then the helo was late so we had to steal a vehicle and drive towards the border hoping for a clear extraction point to open up in the middle of the damn jungle,” Tyrone added. Jack laughed briefly then glanced sharply at Tyrone.
“What’s with the trip down memory lane?”
“Just a reminder that we’ve been in worse situations than this.”
“Not by much, though,” Jack told him with a smile.
He knew what they needed to do, but that wasn’t going to make it any easier. Opening the door would act as a funnel; the undead would come for them and if they laid down overlapping fire, they’d be able to slaughter them before they gained much ground. Each one they killed would fall and create more of an obstruction, slowing down those behind. From there, they’d potentially be able to move to melee weapons in order to kill them without burning through all of their ammunition. Further, they still had the acid flasks, so launching those at the horde would also allow them to clear groups, especially if there were bigger ones. It was a strategy that was old and tested by time, all the way back to the Spartans at Thermopylae: using the numbers of your enemies against themselves. Hell, it probably went back further than that. The only problem Jack felt was that they’d already used a lot of ammunition, and if there were too many, then closing the door would be impossible and the danger of being swarmed would be high. Then again, if they did nothing, then the doors would eventually be torn down and they would be forced to fight regardless.
“We’re sure there’s no other way out of here? No convenient air duct or secret passageway?” Jack asked his team.
“Not that we’ve found. I mean, they’d probably want this room to be somewhat hardened so it couldn’t be infiltrated easily, given that it’s the boom room,” Ridgewell returned.
Jack nodded.
“Okay, this is what we’re going to do: Ridgewell, keep working on the device but give your spare mags to Smith. Ty, you and I will be firing first; we’re going to crack that door just wide enough for a couple of them to come through at a time and blow those sons of bitches away. Smith, you’ll step up whenever one of us reloads, and then we just rotate around. I want short, controlled bursts of fire: we need to conserve ammo and make every damn shot count.”
“So, it’s exactly like in Usnijanar?” Tyrone questioned with a smirk.
“Damn right: we’re going to kill them all. Take five, get ready. When we open that door, the shit’s going to hit the fan,” Jack responded determinedly.
EMMA WAS LOOKING INTO the elevator shaft, peering upwards for any indication that the invaders were descending on ropes, but so far all she could see was the gloomy shaft and no sign that the doors to the floor above had been opened.
“I wish we could reach Jack,” she announced.
“Don’t worry, you’ve got me to keep you company,” Bridges returned in an annoyingly charming tone.
“I mean so we could find out if it was safe to go down there,” she snapped, taking a deep breath. “Sorry.”
“Bossman will be fine. We really need to be thinking about ourselves. As soon as they—” Bridges was saying when they heard clunking from the doors above as well as what sounded like gunfire. It must’ve been close to the elevator lobby, if not within the lobby itself, for them to hear it echoing down the shaft.
“I thought all the zombies on the upper floor were killed or locked in the dorms?” Emma asked, peering upwards.
“We killed a lot. I guess some might’ve still been in the corridors we didn’t see.”
The gunfire came closer and closer, followed by heavy pounding on the doors themselves. After a moment, the sound of metal twisting and snapping was followed by the sudden explosion inwards of one of the doors; Emma recoiled back into the lobby as the door bounced down the shaft, clanging off the walls as it fell down to the bottom floor of the facility. It was followed almost immediately by a fearful, pained scream and then a human figure passed the open doors as someone fell to their death.
“What the hell is going on up there?” Bridges questioned. He leaned back out and looked up, Emma doing the same. The gunfire had ceased, as had all the other sounds, with just light from the upper floor glowing into the shaft. It was eerily still, leading her to wonder if some kind of strange mutation had infiltrated the upper floor, wiping out the soldiers who had come to clean up the mess. If so, was it now about to descend on them? She’d given the assault rifle back to Bridges, but was holding her pistol tightly in one hand and her axe in the other. He half raised the weapon - as though wrought with the same anticipation she was. Suddenly, something stepped in front of the light source, casting the silhouette of a humanoid figure on the wall opposite. She expected it to be moving erratically, as the infected did, or perhaps to be poised in some kind of combat position, like a soldier. Instead, the figure appeared to be standing completely still and out of line of sight, no matter how far out into the shaft they stretched.
“Doctor Emma Reed!” a voice called down. It was a powerful, commanding tone that sounded as though it was coming from an older man. It carried a Bostonian accent too, and as none of the people at Fort Elridge she’d encountered had that accent, the man was unknown to her.
“Who wants to know?” Bridges shot back.
“Hades sent me. You must be Bridges.”
“Maybe, maybe not. Who are you?”
“Call me Cerberus.”
“Dude, what's with all the names?” Bridges muttered to himself.
“I’m coming down. It’s in your best interest not to fire on me.”
“We’ll be the judge of that!” Emma declared. Bridges tapped her on the shoulder and gestured with his head for them to retreat a little from the elevator shaft. She followed him, coming to a stop near the door to the security office. Seeing Bridges raise his assault rifle in readiness, Emma followed suit with her pistol and after a few moments, the waiting pair saw a rappelling rope drop down in front of the doors. About thirty seconds later, they saw a very tall, powerfully built man climbing down the rope. He stepped off and into the elevator lobby. He was physically imposing, being taller than anyone on the team, including Jack and Tyrone. He had dark features, a black goatee beard and strands of black, unkempt hair. He looked serious and professional, and although his hands had dropped to the sides of his black uniform, Emma took note of the assault rifle hanging off his side as well as the pistol in its holster. Still troubled by his unexpected appearance, she wondered just how fast he could draw either one.
“Major Ramsay hasn’t returned from the lowest level?”
“The elevators were locked down and we lost communication when Bolvinox cut our connection to their system,” Bridges told him, still keeping his weapon raised. “You said Hades sent you?”
“Yes.”
“I thought he was doing everything remotely?” Emma quizzed suspiciously. “That he destroyed Bluefields by hacking in?”
“He did, but like I told him when we started, sometimes you’ll need to get your hands dirty. Hades might not be able to do that, but I certainly can.”
“So you... You’re one of the people who were experimented on too?” Emma probed.
“Yes,” Cerberus replied.
“What’s your real name?” Bridges wanted to know. Cerberus shrugged.
“We can have a getting to know you chit chat or we can get down to the lower level and help your team before they’re slaughtered. Which would you rather do?”
“How can we help them? The last we heard those tunnels were crawling with the undead,” Bridges wanted to know.
“That’s the first good question you’ve asked,” Cerberus replied ominous
ly. “I’ll show you.”
WITH THE LIMITED AMOUNT of items scattered throughout the room now arranged as a barricade near the door to slow down the advancement of the undead, Jack and Tyrone stood in the open, as there was no point being in cover. Instead, they had each aligned themselves so they had the best possible line of fire on the doorway. The pounding had now reached a fever pitch, because the noises they’d made reorganizing the room had been loud enough to be heard by the infected outside, while their moans and groans and angry, violent thumping on the door was drawing more of them to the corridor. How many were out there? Jack couldn’t say. They had a decent amount of ammunition and the plan was sound; the truth was, they didn’t have a whole hell of a lot of other options. Smith was standing by the door, ready to unlock it and open it just wide enough for some of the infected to force their way inside. At that point, she’d run hell for leather to get to Jack’s right, where she’d wait to fire when either he or Tyrone ran out of ammunition. Jack wasn’t afraid. Oddly, there wasn’t any doubt in his mind that they could do it - that they could drive back the infected, secure an exit then find a way to get back to Emma and Bridges. He was as certain they could succeed as he was of his own name. What was giving him pause was what would happen if they needed to leave someone behind to press the switch and destroy the facility. Who would it be? To Jack, that wasn’t even a question. He could never ask someone to make a sacrifice he was able to make himself, but the part that concerned him was whether his team would follow his instructions to leave him behind. He had few regrets as he prepared to enter potentially his last battle, which would send him out in a blaze of glory. Truthfully, the thing that stung him just a little was he wouldn’t get to know Emma better than he had during the past couple of days.
“Ready?” Jack asked, pushing the thoughts away.
“As I’ll ever be,” Tyrone returned.
“Yes, sir,” Smith answered.
“Do it,” he declared, tensing in anticipation of firing.
Smith tapped on the jury-rigged door pad, unlocking it. She grabbed the handle and pulled on it, though it took no effort to get the door moving. The infected began forcing their way inside immediately, a wall of gnashing jaws, clawing hands and pressed up bodies desperately attempting to gain entry being instantly revealed.
“Light’em up!” Jack instructed as he fired the first shot; the dull thump of his suppressed weapon reporting its shot into the head of the first zombie through the door, the bullet passing through into one of those behind, dropping two in quick succession amidst an expulsion of coagulated blood and brain matter. Tyrone joined the barrage, both men carefully picking their targets, each shot tearing into the head of an enemy. Two were dead, then four, five, seven, corpses dropping just inside of the doorway. They were shoving the opening wider, forcing it inch by inch not out of a sense to help each other, more out of a selfish desire to be the first to reach the fresh meat. The infected were howling and screeching, and now the door was wide enough to allow two at a time to attempt to force their way inside. Jack and Tyrone didn’t let up, firing continuously without more than a seconds pause to line up the next shot.
The infected continued pushing their way inside, stamping over the corpses of the fallen ahead of them, the only noise other than the sounds of the infected being the constant thumping of the duo’s assault rifles. As the infected behind pressed those in front, some shots went wide, hitting shoulders or not quite passing through the brain and instead blowing out a chunk of skull that didn’t bring the creature down. They were starting to spill into the room more freely, the door widening almost to its full extent. The infected were flowing into the room like a tide, held back only by the constant drilling of gunfire. Jack continued firing, watching as the first of the infected reached the ramshackle barricade they’d erected. He killed the nearest and it flopped heavily down on top of it. Jack immediately moved to line up the next shot, firing on the one behind and gunning it down. As he prepared to kill the next, his weapon clicked empty.
“I’m out!” Jack called out, ejecting his spent magazine as Smith stepped up and began to open fire. He watched the scene as he reloaded, watching as the gunshots from Smith’s weapon tore apart a trio that spilled from the doorway and surged towards the barricade. Tyrone was firing quickly also, taking out those that were shuffling around to the right, their footing unsteady on the backs of the corpses. Blood spattered around the doorframe, chunks of matter trailing down it and the infected behind as they continued their aggressive surge forward.
“Empty!” Tyrone announced, causing a delay as the infected on the left continued to move towards the barricade. Jack was on them immediately, firing and cutting them down just as they reached the barricade, more bodies dropping heavily on the barrels and other items they’d pushed together. Loud, screeching howls echoed above all the other sounds of the cacophony, indicating runners were amidst the pack, while a rumbling growl suggested the presence of a boney. Animalistic growling became audible in the instant before a large, powerful hound forced its way through the legs of the infected near the door. Its fur was torn and matted, caked in the blood of its victims.
“Ty!” Jack called out just as his compatriot began to fire on the animal, which bounded towards the barricade faster than the human infected surging towards them. His gunshots tore holes in the animal, but he didn’t quite hit the mark. It leapt into the air, bounding over the barrier and surging towards Jack... who gunned down a trio that were shuffling forwards, just as the undead animal reached him. It leapt up, going for the throat. Tyrone stepped dangerously close to Jack’s line of fire, swatting the beast down with the stock of his rifle, stomping down with his boot to pin it to the floor before executing it with an extremely precise shot to the skull. He moved back, clearing Jack’s line of sight so he could quickly bring down more of the human infected that were reaching the barricade.
The door was now fully open. Jack remained calm, not allowing the horrific sight of the undead tide flowing into the room to diminish his aim or weaken his resolve. He continued firing, continued killing; Jack wouldn’t stop fighting until either they were all dead or he was. Howls, snapping jaws and swiping arms reached the barricade only to be gunned down before they could attempt to clamber over it. Others were sweeping around the side, the piling bodies acting as a deterrent to some of them and guiding them away from the last line of defense. Smith’s weapon ran empty, forcing Tyrone to rejoin the battle, firing so quickly his weapon might almost have been on automatic. He and Jack cut down the targets moving around the sides of the barricade before focusing on those attempting to shove the corpses piled up on the barricade away so they could move over it. They were roaring ferociously, a sound that would send a chill down the spine of anyone confronting the undead, but more terrible were the sound of the runners and the memory of the comrade they had lost to them in their last mission. Breaking free from the throng and surging into the room, a pair of running infected were sprinting towards the barricade before Jack could target them. Smith rejoined the battle, cutting out the legs of one - but she was unable to wing the second. It clambered over the barricade with the speed and ease of a professional parkour runner then it surged towards Jack. He lined up the shot and blew its brains out with the creature only feet away from him, while Smith executed the one attempting to crawl towards them. There was no time to think about the close call however, as something was turning the infected in the doorway into bloody shreds. Massive claws had bisected and cleaved groups of them, the horrific, muffled screaming of a boney highlighting its arrival.
“Ty, acid!” Jack instructed. Tyrone stopped firing, letting his weapon hang as he carefully, but swiftly, retrieved one of the glass canisters. He launched it just as the massive creature attempted to force its bulk through the door; the bottle shattering on its upper torso, soaking it from the chest down to its legs. The corrosive liquid immediately began to disintegrate the undead flesh, the splash effect of the broken canister soaking the
nearby undead also. The boney was undeterred initially, swiping with its massive claw to cleave chunks of metal out of the doorway before it bent down - as best it could with its bone density - and forced its way into the room; its weight and bulk crushing the corpses beneath it feet into bloody pulp, then it rose once again to its full height. Jack was considering telling Tyrone to hit it again when the boney slowed down, the grotesque sight of its musculature being devastated by the chemical compound turning Jack’s stomach. The infected spilled around it, shuffling beside the boney as it attempted to move forward, while its upper thighs deteriorated. Jack kept half an eye on the boney while gunning down the other infected skittering around the sides. He shot them as they moved, unable to dodge his bullets, and dropped one after the other to the floor. The boney made a terrible noise then slumped forward, landing with enough force Jack could feel the impact even at a distance. It wasn’t dead, they would need to find the weak point just at the back of the skull, but it was disabled for the moment, so Jack kept his focus on the other infected.
Jack couldn’t help but think that, so far, they had done well. They had slaughtered the zombies so efficiently that the corpses had begun to pile up as he hoped, slowing the ingress of more infected - slowing, but not stopping. There had to be hundreds more in the corridor and, judging by the myriad other noises still coming their way, the horde contained more boney's and runners, perhaps even more hounds. Jack’s weapon ran empty again, forcing Tyrone to take his place, Smith running out just a second later. As Jack reloaded first, he was back on the firing line just as half a dozen infected flanked around the right of the barricade, shuffling closer to them. He began to shift his aim towards them when three runners burst into the room, clambering over the boney’s remains, uncaring of the acid coating it's disintegrating flesh and bones, and moving in a straight line towards the group as their own flesh began to melt from the contact with the acid.
The Z Directive (Book 2): Mutation Page 19
