Deadlocked 6

by A. R. Wise

  "My mother was one of the scientists that designed the virus." It was as if she'd been waiting for years to admit that, and it pained her. "I was in medical school when it started."

  "Did you know it was going to happen?"

  She shook her head and then sighed as she glanced into the hallway behind her. Her breath was stilted, hampered by an attempt to stymie tears. "I had no idea."

  "But you're okay with it now?"

  I'd annoyed her, and she glared at me. "I told you, we didn't have a choice."

  I picked up on how she referred to herself as one of the people that made the choice, even though she hadn't known about it. In the decades after the apocalypse, she'd managed to become complacent with the event that her mother had helped cause. I understood that better than most people could've. If it hadn't been for my brother, I'd have sunk into the same depression and drugs that my mother had. Sometimes, when you're spiraling down, all you need is a person to grab your hand.

  "I don't think you would've done it," I said and stared at her with a steeled expression of certainty.

  "Done what?"

  "I don't think you would've made the same choice your mother made. You're a better person than that."

  "You don't even know me," she said and wiped her thumb across her cheek to catch a tear.

  "It's not hard to tell when someone's a good person. What's your name?"

  "Faith."

  "It's good to meet you, Faith. I'm Levon, but all the pretty girls call me Hero."

  She thought that was funny. Relief bolstered her laugh, as if she wanted every reason she could find not to cry. "You should've been a psychiatrist, or a motivational speaker, Hero."

  "Maybe I will be," I said and my tone grew heavy. "I'm not even forty yet. I've got a lot of life left in me, depending on the choices certain people make in the next few minutes. What if I told you I could get you the cure you're looking for? Would that help?"

  "Of course."

  "Then get me out of here, and I'll help you save the world."

  Faith was flustered and glanced down at her clipboard. "I don't know what you think I can do for you, but you're wrong."

  "Don't worry, beautiful. I've got Faith." I winked and settled back into my pillow. Then I sat back up quickly and added, "Was that too cheesy? Did I lose you with that last part?"

  She laughed and picked up her cup of coffee from the stainless steel table beside the door. "No, you nailed it, Hero." I heard her say again, "You nailed it," as she walked down the hall.

  I felt pretty good about myself for a minute as I lay back on the bed. My head hurt, my stomach rumbled, and I was aware that countless drugs were pumping through my veins, but despite it all I was hopeful for the first time in a long time. I'd spent the past two decades living in fear, propelled by hate, and convinced that the only path to survival was through the destruction of those that stood in my way. The military, and the people responsible for the apocalypse, had become my nemesis. I'd felt unfulfilled knowing they were alive, and my life revolved around revenge.

  For the first time since the beginning of the apocalypse, I was willing to let go of that. Meeting Faith, and recognizing that not everyone in this organization was evil, helped me understand what Laura had been pushing for since being elected captain of the High Rollers. Perhaps it was time to try and make peace.

  I still wanted to murder everyone that had anything to do with releasing the virus that started the apocalypse, and no amount of soul searching or desire for peace would quell that. However, speaking with Faith had forced me to consider the future of our children.

  Jill and I had been trying to have kids for years, but either she wasn't able to conceive or I was shooting blanks because nothing ever happened. I'd always known that if she got pregnant, I'd train our child to be a warrior that would help the High Rollers fight against the military. Now I was ashamed of myself for that. Just like Faith had been forced to be complicit with her mother's sins, I was expecting my hypothetical child to do the same. With that sort of mentality, when would the killing stop?

  Faith represented a chance to overcome this endless killing. Perhaps it was the feel-good drugs they were using to keep me from passing out due to the gash on my head, or maybe I was suffering a concussion, but I'd never felt more hopeful. Faith had said that there were others in her group that wanted to end this war, and if I could convince them to help me then we might be able to create a world that would be safe for our children.

  It was Pollyannaish, but I reveled in the glory of it. If Jill and I ever did conceive, I didn't want our child to grow up burdened with my war. Perhaps Laura had been right all along.

  We needed to strive for peace. We owed that to our children.

  In this auspicious moment, I heard two gunshots echo through the halls outside my room. The first one startled me, and the second stilled my heart. I don't believe in psychics, or telepathy, or any of that stuff, but there was no doubt in my mind that Faith was dead.

  When Kim walked through my door, I already knew what happened.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN - BREAKDOWN

  Kim Laporte

  I searched the two women for anything useful. I knew there wasn't much time since the gunshots had echoed through the facility, louder than any alarm could hope to be. There was no mistaking a gunshot in a closed space, and I'd fired twice.

  The black woman wasn't carrying anything important, so I moved on to my other victim. She was middle aged, with grey hair that was tied back in a ponytail. The bullet had pierced her throat, and a pool of blood was still growing beneath her. I knelt down, the bottom hem of my plain hospital gown mopping the blood, and was about to search the woman's pockets when I felt something press into my stomach.

  She was alive, and had a gun.

  I'd been careless, and was furious with myself for making such a common mistake. I'd become accustomed to killing zombies over the years, and when they fall down they get right back up again if you didn't kill them. Zombies function with inhuman ferocity, and won't stop moving until their brains have been destroyed. The living, on the other hand, are much more cunning.

  This bitch was dying, but she would get revenge first. The gun I'd stolen from the other woman was in the pocket of my gown, and I couldn't reach it quick enough to stop this doctor from killing me. She'd won and I scowled down at her.

  "Go ahead," I said while clenching my teeth. "Kill me."

  Her eyes blinked and she opened her mouth, but couldn't speak. The wound in her neck pulsed with dark red blood and a trickle escaped from the corner of her lips. I felt the pressure of her gun in me again, but it was larger this time. I looked down, confused, and saw that she wasn't pointing it at me. She was holding it by the barrel, with the handle pressed into me.

  "What are you doing?" I asked.

  She couldn't say, but pressed the gun harder against me as the color faded from her cheeks. Her mouth was open, and she gurgled as she choked on her own blood. Then her bright blue eyes unfocused and her hand fell to her stomach as she stopped breathing.

  I sighed in relief, but didn’t have time to ponder the woman's intentions. I took her gun and then searched her pockets. Next, I dragged her body into the room. I didn't have time to clean the pool of blood from the hallway, and anyone passing would certainly see the macabre evidence of my murder, but at least hiding her corpse could keep someone passing through a nearby hall from seeing her. I had no idea how large this facility was, or how long it would take soldiers to come looking for the source of the gunshots.

  The facility was eerily quiet. The concrete walls had pipes running along their side and strips of red and blue wire, bunched together with plastic ties, that hung near the ceiling. It looked like the inner workings of a home's walls if one side had been stripped. I had to choose to turn right or left, and chose left. I stayed close to the wall and moved swiftly, searching each room that I passed.

  I was disturbed by how quiet it was. Where was the soldier that the doctor had been s
peaking with? Where was the security? The doctor had mentioned they were flying in someone important to undergo the surgery that would kill Celeste - or at least kill her free will. I was still muddy on the specifics of the procedure that the black woman had revealed. Were the soldiers out meeting with this mysterious traveler? Or was I blindly walking into a trap?

  "Levon!" I caught sight of him in one of the non-descript rooms and rushed in. "Come on princess, let's get out of here."

  I expected him to appreciate the humor in me being the one to rescue him, but he looked ashen. I closed the door behind me before going to his bedside.

  "You okay?" I asked as I unbuckled his right wrist.

  "Yeah," he said, clearly not.

  "Do they have you doped up?"

  He nodded and used his free hand to rub his eyes.

  Someone screamed far off, and we both froze as we listened. It was a man's voice, and was too distant to be from him finding my victims. It was eerie, and made me feel oddly claustrophobic to hear him yell, as if I'd heard a mourner at my own funeral while I lay in the casket, buried alive. Then there were footsteps coming closer and I aimed my gun at the door.

  The footsteps got closer, frenzied and loud. It was the gait of a wounded man, shuffling and slapping against the wall as he went. I heard a groan and then saw the shadow of feet from the space beneath the door.

  The man sniffed, then scratched at the door, and his feet disappeared. He headed back the way he came. After the sound of his footsteps faded, I cursed in relief. "Fuck me. What was that about?"

  Hero stared at the ceiling.

  I snapped my fingers in his face and then walked to the end of the bed to free his legs. "Snap out of it. I need my Hero here, right now. Got it?"

  "Are the doctors dead?" he asked, still forlorn and distant.

  "Yeah, but we're still going to have to take care of the guards," I said as if reviewing a checklist of things we needed to do.

  He seemed hazy, perhaps lulled by pain killers, and I shook his legs as I finished unbinding them. He closed his eyes, took a long breath, and then looked at me. "I'm good."

  "Here," I offered him the black woman's gun. I'd already taken two shots with it, and wanted to keep the fully loaded weapon I'd taken from the doctor for myself. Hero seemed lethargic, and I was worried that he wouldn't be able to perform the way I needed him to.

  "We're in this together," he said as he took the gun. "Till the end."

  "There's my boy," I said and gently slapped his cheek as I smiled. We'd been partners for years, and there was no one I'd rather have at my side in this situation than him. If we were going to make it out of this alive, I'd need his help.

  He seemed renewed and hopped off the bed as soon as I got his left strap undone. He was wearing a gown similar to mine, and his backside was revealed as he walked to the door.

  "Hey, big guy," I said and nodded at his rear end. "Tie your belt. I don't want to stare at a big, black, hairy moon the whole way out."

  He smirked as he wrapped the thin cloth belt around his waist and tied up his gown to end the peep show. I stood on the other side of the door, my back to the wall, in a position we'd performed a hundred times before. Hero was adamant about clearing corners properly, and frequently retold a story about when Captain Reagan saved Billy's life while clearing a corner during the apocalypse.

  "Hold up," I said as I looked at my partner. "You're good, right?"

  He nodded. "Yeah, I told you. I'm fine. Never felt better."

  "That's a pretty big bandage on your head. And when I got in here, you were looking pretty out of it. Are you sure you've got this?"

  "Kim, I want to get the fuck out of here. Can we get on with this, or are we going to play twenty questions first?"

  "Okay, sure. No need to get snippy. Let's move left, I'll take lead. On three."

  I counted down with my fingers and we moved out in our choreographed manner. I crouched and moved forward, while Hero walked backwards, aiming at our rear. I had to remember that we were dealing with the living, and not the dead, which affected our movements. When fighting zombies we always gave corners a wide berth, and as I approached an upcoming hallway I debated how to move. The hall split off to the right, while our passage continued forward. If fighting zombies, I would've stayed on the left side, allowing plenty of space between our possible enemy and us. However, when dealing with the living it was better to hug the inside wall and peer around the corner. Hero and I had fought with raiders in the past, and had employed this technique then. The living carry guns, and exposing yourself with a wide berth leaves you vulnerable to getting shot.

  I placed my left hand on Hero's thigh and pushed gently to lead him to the right wall. We'd perfected moving silently over the years, and spoke as little as possible when in a situation like this. With anyone else, I would've been hampered trying to keep them doing as I wanted, but Hero and I worked like one mind; even our footsteps were in sync.

  The hall I peered down was smeared with blood. It was fresh, and there were no bodies in sight that could've left it here. Crimson fingers had swiped along the wall, rising and sinking on either side as if a bloody drunkard had stumbled past.

  "What the fuck?" asked Hero, breaking protocol by speaking, although I nearly said the same.

  I shook my head and shrugged. "No clue. I don't like the look of this though. How about we not go that way?"

  He nodded and raised his eyebrows. "Agreed, kid."

  From the other way, further down the hall, I heard voices. Someone was arguing and a door unlocked, then opened. We dashed into the bloodied hall to avoid being seen. The arguing voices grew louder as the door opened, and then quieted again once it was closed. I didn't hear footsteps, and wondered if someone had stepped out to guard the room, or if they'd just peeked to see if they were alone.

  I dared to look, and saw the hall was empty.

  I would've liked to stay and listen for other voices, to try and get a better idea of how many people we were dealing with, but we didn't have time to waste. It was a miracle that the soldiers hadn't come to investigate the gunshots already, and I didn't want to take any more chances by sticking around. Then there was the bloody graffiti behind us, which did little to still my nerves.

  The floor was cold on my bare feet, and the air had an odd odor to it that I couldn't place. It felt like we were sneaking through a tomb, but the act invigorated me. Adrenaline coursed through me, and I relished the moment's intensity. I lived for this. Nothing made me feel more alive than holding a gun and being ready to use it.

  I was in control of the situation now. They'd tried to tie me down, but I would never let that happen to me if I had the opportunity to fight back. I was confident, ferocious, and ready to kill. No one could stop me. My heart raced, but it wasn't from panic; I was excited.

  We made it to the door where the voices were coming from and I lined up on the side, ready to break in. I looked at Hero, confused why he hadn't taken up position on the other side.

  He glared at me and shook his head before motioning forward, down the hall. He wanted to avoid confronting the people in the room.

  We shared a tense, silent argument. I was furious with him. What the hell was he thinking? We weren't going to leave these people here alive. Not only did we have to escape, but we also needed to find Celeste. Leaving any of these motherfuckers alive wasn't an option. I stood my ground and sternly pointed at his spot on the other side of the door. He begrudgingly did as he was told.

  I counted down with my left hand as he knelt forward and took the handle of the door.

  Three. Two. One.

  He pushed the door open and moved in swiftly, as he was supposed to, but he didn't start firing. Instead, he yelled for everyone to get on the floor. I followed behind, prepared to kill the workers like I'd planned, and saw three men in casual clothes crowded around a central console. This was an operations room of some sort, with a series of whirring computers on the far wall and an island of computers in the
center. There was another flat screen television on the wall to my right, displaying the same forest scene that had been on in my room.

  The three men, each of them spindly and old, raised their arms and got on their knees like Hero told them to. They were pathetic, sniveling, and terrified. Hero walked behind the oldest one and knelt beside him. "Face down, arms out." He spoke with a calm, kind tone.

  I was confused at first, but then realized what Hero was doing. He wanted to play what he referred to as good cop, bad cop with these men. If it had been up to me, we would've killed them already, but I assumed he wanted information out of them. It was smart, and I played along.

  I always played the bad cop.

  "Which one of you is in charge here?" I walked over them as they splayed their arms out on the ground.

  No one answered, so I knelt down on one of them. The old man huffed as my knee pressed into his spine. "Answer me or this one dies first." I pressed the pistol to the back of his head.

  "Kim," said Hero. "Don't."

  I winked at him and smiled, enthused by our game. Then I continued to play my part. "Shut up, Levon. I'm sick of these fucks. If they don't do as I say, I'm going to cover the floor with their faces. Now which one of you is in charge?"

  "I am," said the man to my right. He raised his hand while still lying on the floor, and looked at me with fear in his eyes. "Please don't do this. We can help you."

  "God damn right you can." I got off the other man and focused on the one in charge. "Get up."

  "Kim," said Hero. "Calm down."

  He was trying too hard to be the good guy. We didn't have time for this, but I didn't want to admit to the deception while our captives listened.

  "No, these pukes are going to pay for what they did." I tried to grab the one in charge by the hair, but it was too short to get a grip. I pulled him up by his collar as he whimpered. "Against the wall, grandpa." I slammed him into the concrete wall hard enough to rattle a framed map that hung nearby.

  He was a thin, weak man, with stick arms and skeletal hands. His eyes were brown, and as wide as they could get as I pushed my gun against his temple. His blue lips quivered as tears coursed down his frown lines. I put my left hand against the side of the gun to shield the splatter of bone and blood that would occur when I shot him.