Rip. Rip. Crackle.
He glanced at the tunnel. No fucking way was he going in there. There would be no place to run. Besides, Pendleton was already dead. Along with everyone in the room.
“Shut up,” he said to the voice in his head. “You don’t know that.” The whisper out of his mouth was barely audible even to himself.
He stepped closer to the tunnel connection and once again tried to peer into the room. The light coming through was dim and growing darker. Pendleton, still in his shooting stance blinked. Something was coming into the tunnel.
Run!
The thought lit up his brain like a bright neon sign. Fletcher trembled and took one step back. It wasn’t far enough.
The tunnel erupted. Four large, black appendages ripped through the plastic. A taloned tentacle slashed into his left leg just behind the knee. Blood and bits of bone jetted onto the floor amidst his scream. Another, its end shaped like a scythe, removed his right leg at the calf. The third, shaped like a spear, went through his ribcage. The fourth took off his head.
Before the echo of his scream had even cleared the room, the four tentacles drew back their prize. The plastic tunnel shredded with the impact and the connectors came loose. His body dragged across the floor for an instant, leaving bloody smears in its wake. And then it was in the room, sizzling and disintegrating into a pool of black.
Chapter 12
Mathis and Jennifer froze. Even in the operating suite beyond the heavy glass, the doctors and nurses looked over and into the hallway.
Mathis’ heart raced. “What the hell was that?”
Jennifer tapped the radio on her belt. “V? Webb? Hurtado? Sound off!”
No response. Mathis’ own radio echoed her words in his headset. Mathis tapped his send button. “Guys? You there?”
No response.
Mathis took a slow deep breath. Whoever had made that sound was definitely in the quarantine room and he was almost certain one scream had been V’s, the other Webb’s. He took a step forward to walk back to the main ER corridor and then the gunfire started.
Both he and Jennifer jumped at the sound. He didn’t have the presence of mind to count the shots. It sounded like an entire barrage was fired in a few seconds.
Must have been one of the two cops, he thought. The fat one, probably. Mathis had a crazy vision of the man walking into the tunnel, the stogie still in his mouth, and then—
Another scream rang out, although it was muffled and very short-lived. “What the hell is going on?” he said.
Jennifer was half a meter behind him, but she might as well have been inside his helmet. “I. Don’t. Know.”
Something moved in the hallway. Mathis looked around for a weapon. Maybe a gang member came into the place, or a distraught family member. Maybe there was a fight or something going on. Wearing the suit, he didn’t even have his dick in his hand; there was nothing to use as a weapon.
“Back up, Jennifer,” Mathis breathed. He felt more than heard her take a few steps back. “Maybe we should—”
His voice broke off as a figure came into view. It was Sharma. The ER doctor walked backward, one hand on the wall to steady himself.
“Sharma!”
The man jumped and then turned to them. The crotch of his scrubs was wet. “It—” He blinked and didn’t say another word.
“What’s going on?” Jennifer asked.
Sharma ran more than walked to them. Mathis stiffened. The terrified doctor ran behind Jennifer and hugged the wall.
“Dr. Sharma,” Jennifer said. “What’s going on? What’s happening?”
He raised a hand and pointed down the hall. “It. It. Black.”
Mathis gulped. He didn’t know what any of that meant. “Going to take a look,” he said.
“Not a good idea,” Jennifer said. “Let me get Ellis. He should have video and audio feeds.” She tapped her radio again. “Ellis? You there?”
Nothing. The disquiet in the hallway descended on the group like a death shroud. She tried again. Still no response. Mathis’ gut churned with fear.
“Going to take a look,” he repeated. He turned around and glanced at Jennifer. “Keep him here.”
She nodded. “I’ll try and get HQ on the horn.”
Mathis turned again. The hallway was brightly lit with fluorescents, but the corner made a blindspot. He wouldn’t be able to see anything coming toward him until it was on top of him. Get some balls, he told himself.
Jennifer’s voice cut into his radio. She was trying to raise HQ just like she’d said. So far, no one was answering back. Mathis continued putting one foot in front of the other. The hallway slowly shortened as he approached the blind corner, and that’s when he saw it.
A shadow. Something wavering in the air. It was moving down the adjacent hallway and something he hadn’t noticed before was getting louder. A sound like static crossed with frying eggs. Through the heavy helmet, he could barely hear it, but it was definitely growing in volume.
Two arms. Had to be someone walking down the hallway. He was on the verge of saying “hello” and then a third arm joined it. And a fourth. A fifth. “What the fuck?”
Against every instinct he had, he peered around the corner and froze.
It wasn’t a person coming down the hall. His mind attempted to make sense of the shape, but it couldn’t; his taxed and terrified brain was too busy trying to figure out if that was an eye staring at him from a black stick, or if the things waving in the air were actually arms or tentacles.
The appendages without the eye crackled. A hook morphed out of the end of one. Another transformed into three talons. He didn’t stick around to see what the others would do.
Mathis turned and ran as fast as he could, his voice screaming into his radio. Jennifer and Sharma jumped and then Sharma was prying at the door to the trauma suite. The heavy glass door swung open. Both Jennifer and Sharma jumped inside. Mathis nearly lost his footing on the tile floor, but managed to get through the door. He hit the opposite far wall inside the center’s hallway with a crunch.
Jennifer closed the glass door behind him. Mathis, still standing, peered through the glass. Whatever the thing in the hallway was, it was getting closer. A new pair of stalks rose from its squat body, each with a black orb that swiveled as if looking for a target. The tentacles undulated in a predatory dance.
“Get down!” Mathis hissed and dropped to the floor. Jennifer continued staring out the door, her mouth open in horror, eyes glazed. He reached out and pulled her legs out from under her. Jennifer collapsed, slid down the wall, and landed on her ass. She cried out, but stayed down. Sharma followed suit.
Mathis turned his head and stared at the partially glass covered door. The metal plate in the door’s bottom half obscured their view of the hallway. For a moment, no one moved.
He reached up and pulled off his helmet. Air hissed out as the seals broke. The oxygen in the tanks immediately stopped flowing. He put the helmet at his side.
“Idiot,” Jennifer whispered.
He shook his head and mouthed the words “it doesn’t matter.” Without the helmet, the sounds inside the two surgery rooms were audible, but quiet. Mathis hoped the thing outside couldn’t hear.
And where was it now? He leaned forward and put his ear against the plate. His eyes grew wide. Clicking. Dragging. Sizzling. He took a deep breath and pulled his head back.
Something hit the metal plate. The glass held, but made a booming sound that echoed inside the trauma center hallway. Sharma loosed a short-lived girlish scream. Mathis looked at him. Sharma’s left hand raised and pointed up at the glass beyond the plate.
Mathis shuffled backwards, his eyes fixed on the area Sharma pointed to. Then he saw it.
The creature was right outside the door. It slowly moved forward, eyes rotating and flicking, taking in the glass walls and doors as if studying them. A hook-ended tentacle brushed up against the glass. At first, Mathis was certain it was looking at him. Then he realized the ey
es were instead looking toward the surgery theaters.
The hooked tentacle reared back and then shot forward. The glass boomed with the impact, but held. It squealed as the talon dragged across its surface. The thing paused for a moment as if thinking, and then it continued down the hallway.
“Don’t move,” Mathis whispered.
The top of the creature moved out of his field of view, but the clicking of its talons on the tile floor was enough to let him know it was still there. He expected it to growl or roar. But save for the clicking, it was as soundless as death.
Mathis crawled back to the glass door and put his ear up against it. The clicking receded. He didn’t dare stand up or make a sound. He waited, his heart a thrash drum beat in his ears.
“Where is it?” Sharma asked.
Mathis ignored him. He closed his eyes and did his best to calm his breathing and his heart rate. Not going to be of any use if you have a fucking panic attack, he told himself. He took a four-second breath, held it for a seven count, and then exhaled all the breath in his lungs. His heart skipped a beat and then slowed.
Veronica. Webb. Hurtado. Hurtado. Mathis wiped a tear from his eye. That thing in the hall killed his friends. He knew it had. And he’d find a way to pay it back.
Chapter 13
He’d forgotten about the slide. He’d forgotten he still wanted coffee. He’d forgotten how boring it was to be in the command center all by himself. Paul Ellis had forgotten everything about his failing marriage, obnoxious kids, and the job that always seemed on the verge of killing his spirit. He’d forgotten all those things because right now, he was terrified.
When Krieger’s vitals flatlined and didn’t come back, the team in the room went into action. Webb, V, and Hurtado went to work on trying to get Krieger stabilized. And that’s when the shit hit the fan.
Through the monitors, he watched Krieger’s body collapse into a black pool after it consumed Hurtado. He watched both Veronica and Webb suffer the same fate. And then he saw the two terrified EMTs trying to leave the room. “Trying” was the operative word.
Neither lasted long. The pool of black liquid grew appendages and destroyed the two men before they had much more than a chance to scream. Ellis screamed for them.
When the creature, or whatever the hell it was, finished with them, it began scouring the room. Curtains, plastic, cardboard, anything that wasn’t metal or glass disappeared into the deep blackness with a cloud of vapor. The pool of liquid then flowed near the tunnel entrance. It was then that Ellis’ brain kicked back into gear.
He clicked the radio. “Ellis to Harrel! You there?”
No response. Just static.
“Command to Harrel! Come in.”
Nothing. More static.
Ellis chose the emergency frequency. “CDC Command, this is Houston mobile, over.”
Ellis waited. No response. A painful burning started in his stomach. He tasted bile and acid on his tongue and smelled it in his nose. V. Webb. Hurtado. Dead. Harrel? Mathis? What about the others in the hospital?
“CDC Command! This is Houston Mobile. Come the fuck in!”
His hands started to shake. This was not right. The video feeds from the cameras in the ER were still on. The audio was still coming through. He checked the network and saw it was still alive.
He grabbed his CDC encrypted cell from the table and told it to call CDC Houston. His phone, paid for and distributed by Homeland Security, responded with “No Cell Service At This Time.” He blinked at it, cleared the screen. He had 5 bars of signal. “What in the fuck is going on!” His ears rang from his own shriek.
Tossing the phone aside, he walked past the S.E.M. station to the back cabinets and pulled one open. A rolling stainless steel tray of instruments slid out. Contents? Food items in sterile packaging, bandages, and, of course, the sat phone.
He ripped open the heavy plastic and pulled the Iridium phone free. Every mobile command center was issued at least one of the high-priced phones in case radio, cell, or landlines went down. He powered it up and typed in the encryption code. If ever there was a time to use it, it was now.
Ellis looked up at the monitors. He didn’t want to, but he had to. The pool of black was nowhere to be seen. His eyes widened. Goddammit. Where the hell did it go?
He tore his eyes away from the screens and looked down at the sat phone. He entered the number of the CDC Houston office. His thick-gloved hands shook so much that he botched the first attempt. He closed his eyes, focused, and then tried again. As he punched in the last digit, the radio squawked. He dropped the phone to the floor, cursed, picked it up, and headed back to the radio.
“Houston Mobile Command. Are you there?”
About fucking time, Ellis said to himself. He plopped down in the chair and picked up the mic. “Atlanta, this is Ellis in Houston. We need help and now!”
Pause. “Dr. Ellis, this is not the CDC. This is Homeland Security Specialist Moore,” a female voice said.
He blinked at the mic and then a flush of anger hit him. “I don’t give a damn who you are, we need help! Now!”
“Calm down, Dr. Ellis,” the voice said. He loosed a frustrated sigh. The woman’s voice was perfectly level, calm, and so patronizing he wanted to reach into the phone and rip her head off. “We have your video and audio feeds and are aware of the situation.”
“Aware?” A keening sound started between his ears. All he wanted was to shriek at the woman, explain to her that three of his friends were dead. That a goddamned monster from outer fucking space was in the hospital and killing people. That the infection was the goddamned blob! “Then send us some help!”
Pause. “We are, Dr. Ellis. HPD SWAT has been dispatched to your location. They should be there in a few minutes.”
The burning lump of stress in his stomach finally cooled to a dull inferno. “Well, Ms. Moore—”
“Doctor Moore,” the woman said in that ridiculously even monotone.
“Well, Dr. Moore, what the hell am I supposed to do? That thing, whatever the hell it is, just ate my team!”
“Dr. Ellis. You are to stay in the mobile command center and continue analyzing your sample.”
“My sample? How do you know I have a sample?”
“The same way I know you have unpacked your sat phone.”
He glanced at the Iridium and then smacked his forehead. Cameras. Cameras in the goddamned command center. “Why are communications out?”
“They’re not out,” Moore said, a hint of amusement belying her otherwise even tone. “They’re being controlled.”
A cold prickle of fear rose up his spine. “Controlled?”
“I don’t have time to explain all this to you, Dr. Ellis. I’m a busy woman this morning. Continue with your analysis and upload the results. Help is on the way and you’ll be relieved when other qualified personnel are available. Until then, you may consider yourself under quarantine.”
Ellis’ heart pounded in his chest. “Quarantine? I’m in a goddamned air-tight suit! How can I be—”
“Think,” the voice said, the pleasant, disinterested tone just a memory. “We cannot afford to take any chances. Think. And you’ll understand what I’m saying.”
Ellis opened his mouth to scream at her and then stopped. She was right. He’d carried a sample of that shit into the command center. He’d put some of it in an emulsion. And there was an entire test tube of it sitting just a meter behind him.
“Understood,” he finally said. “Do you have eyes on anyone in the hospital?”
Pause. “That is not your concern, Dr. Ellis. Please do your job. Let us do ours. We will let you know when your relief has arrived. Moore, out.”
The radio crackled into static. Ellis dropped the mic and stared up at the monitors. They’d gone dark. Another shiver wracked him in the hot suit. The feeds were gone. Homeland was in charge now. “Shit,” he said aloud and swiveled in his chair.
The command center had four tiny, red LED lights, one in each corner
. They were the cameras Homeland was using to spy on him. They were watching him. They were watching the hospital.
He picked up the sat phone and stared at the screen. “NO SERVICE” it read. Ellis put the Iridium back on the table, swiveled in his chair, and stared at the S.E.M. There was nothing else to do except study what he had and try and keep it from killing him.
Chapter 14
Bad night. Bad date. And to top it all off? The goddamned ex called and screamed at her. Twice. She finally did the sane thing and blocked his ass once and for all. But even that hurt. When you shared your home with another person for the better part of two years, kicking them out the door was tough. Living alone was tough. But staying in a relationship with a drunk was insanity. She knew that now.
Sarah Celianne stripped off her dress. The black heels already lay by the bed. She only wore them when the sun was down because of the myriad of scuff marks covering the black, patent leather. She flung the dress in a heap next to the heels and sat on the edge of the bed.
A drink. That’s what she’d needed to make it through the night, but she was on call. On call meant no drinking, no late-night carousing, and staying within a reasonable distance of HQ.
Although her date had offered to pick her up, she’d declined stating she was on call and needed her own vehicle. That was only half true.
Her date, a software engineer named Ryan Stone, hadn’t known her address. She made sure of that. If he had, he might have realized she’d chosen a place just down the street. Hell, it was close enough for her to walk back to her apartment in ten minutes. Even in heels.
The truth was, it was her first date with Ryan. There wouldn’t be a second one. She’d guessed that was the way it was going to go and maybe that’s why she’d had such a shitty time to begin with.
He’d seemed like a nice enough guy and their liaison via the online dating service was certainly pleasant enough. So when she met him at the restaurant, there weren’t any surprises, save for how boring he was. If she’d been able to drink, she might have enjoyed herself and ignored his stiff conversation just fine. Instead? From the moment they ordered to the second he picked up the check, she prayed for divine intervention via a page.
The Black: Outbreak Page 5
