Apocalyptic Beginnings Box Set

by M. D. Massey

  “Yeah, me too,” Natasha says flatly. She tries to compose herself, fighting back the urge to cry, scream, or do something really stupid. Not sure which. She down at my arm, pointing at the bite. “You sure you’re not going to go all flesh-eating happy on me?”

  “To be honest, no, I’m not sure. So far, I haven’t had the urge to eat anyone. As a matter of fact, I really haven’t had the urge for much of anything in the realm of food.”

  “Well that looks bad, as well as everything else going on with you.”

  If she keeps talking like this, I’m going to get a complex.

  “Yeah well, right now this is the hand that I was dealt, so I have to play it the best I can.”

  “You better play right or I’ll put you down like those pieces of crap out there.”

  After everything I’ve gone through and had done to me, I’m still not sure if I can die. I feel the words creeping near my lips to test the theory, but quickly swallow’em back. I’ve come so far and am too close to be done in by a lack of good judgment.

  “Now that we’re trapped in this small ass room with the Grateful Dead playing on the door, what’s the plan?” I ask.

  Natasha, still fuming and looking like she would pull the wings from a fly just to make it suffer, kicks some boxes out of her way and topples over some silver containers on the far side of the wall. I guess at this point it really doesn’t matter if we’re loud or not. The cat is so out of the bag.

  She presses part of the wall with her right hand about head high, the solid surface separating and ejecting a light blue scanner. Natasha places her right eye in front of what looks to be some sort of optical scanner and pauses.

  “Wow, pretty involved security for just some boxes and containers,” I add, watching Natasha closely.

  A row of red lines starts at the top of her eye and quickly sweeps down, pausing for a brief moment. After a few seconds, the blue diminishes and the scanner lights up a dark green.

  Natasha takes a step back as the scanner slips back into the wall and a seamless door pops free and slides open. I guess it’s a good thing I happened across Natasha’s path. She knows her way around, and where to find the hidden places to keep us out of the lime light. With the dead roaming through the facility, hopefully that will keep the action away from us, and most importantly me.

  “So, where does this magical little door lead us?”

  “It’s a holding pen for failed experiments and other things,” Natasha replies, ejecting the clip from her pistol. “There’s a lab within where they are tested. I’m not really sure, as I’ve only been down here once and didn’t stay long. Place creeps me out.”

  “So like a morgue where the dead are actually dead and not all walking around?”

  “Huh,” Natasha snickers, bending down and pulling a fresh clip from inside her boot. “You just wish it was that easy. Then again, you’ll probably fit right in.”

  “Are we just passing through the freak show?”

  “Yes, unless you want to hang out and get acquainted with your kin.”

  “No, I’m good,” I reply, looking at the ground for anything that I can use as a weapon. Since Hound bit the dust and took my piece with him, I’m feeling very naked right now.

  My eye catches the overly large crowbar that Natasha used to kabob that woman’s head, brain matter and chunks of skull still clinging to it. I scoop it off the floor and grip it tight, peering at Natasha who looks poised and ready to move out.

  “Keep close and quiet. The infected in there are in cells, but we don’t want to rattle their cages and get them all worked up. Might draw attention to us. Stay on my six and watch my back and this should be a walk in the park.”

  Yeah, right. A walk in the park.

  Natasha nears the door and pulls it open all the way, a musty and pungent odor instantly filtering into the room. She coughs and gags, placing her hand over her mouth and plugging her nose. It does nothing to me. She turns to me and nods.

  The holding section for the experiments is large, and cells line the walls on the floor below. We creep along the catwalk, Natasha looking down, and her pistol following her every motion. It’s quiet and loud at the same time; odd and strange noises emit from all over, but do little to rattle my nerves. I look over the rusted railing and peer below, finding a round station with two guards tucked nicely inside. From here, they look pudgy and not the typical soldiers I’ve seen everywhere else. Guess there’s not much to watching over a bunch of caged animals.

  Our boots play over the grated steel like trumpets announcing our arrival. Natasha seems less worried about that than she does someone coming out of the blue and laying out the welcome mat for us.

  I wish I had something more than this damn crowbar. Up close and in someone’s face it’ll be fine, but far away I’ll be pissing in the wind and have to rely on Natasha to take them out.

  We hit the stairs and Natasha keeps her eyes focused on the two guards as she methodically inches towards the bottom floor. They look distracted and completely unaware that we’re even here. She pauses.

  “We have to get inside the control station over there to get through here,” Natasha whispers. “I know these two jerk offs. They are probably watching Sports Center or something like that. Just keep quiet and I’ll take care of them.”

  I stay put and watch Natasha move towards the control station, her pistol double gripped and trained ahead. All of the ambiance floating around teas my ear, pulling my attention to the cell to my left. I take a quick glance at Natasha, who is halfway there and looks to be in the clear. I move towards the cell cautiously and carefully, the groaning and strange noises getting more intense the closer I get.

  There’s a Plexiglas front with multiple tiny holes all over and a steel plate behind it. I pause once more and look over at Natasha, who gets into position and bends down. She hugs the metal structure and slithers around the control station and out of my sight.

  In front of me is a small window within the steel door. Since I’m here, might as well sneak a peek at what’s behind door number one.

  I lean in close, placing my hands on the plastic barrier, and peer through the opening. The room is all white and I see nothing stirring about. Actually, I don’t hear anything anymore.

  Come on, come on. Give us a look-see.

  I hear a noise from up top and twist my head around instantly, scanning over the catwalk for its perpetrator. Nothing. The TV or radio, whichever the plump guards are listening to, echoes off the walls in here.

  I bring my attention back to the window and look back in, nearly shitting my pants at the sight of a horribly disfigured face spewing fluids from open sores littering its head. It shrills loudly and begins to beat on the steel door separating us.

  Two consecutive gun shots sound off followed by a repetitive siren that goes off every ten seconds. I make a beeline for the control station and find the overweight guards face down on the floor, blood splattered over the controls and dripping to the floor below.

  “Damn it!” Natasha growls, relieving the two men of their weapons. “Here, that crowbar won’t do shit to save your ass when they get here.”

  She hands me a Glock and a few extra clips. I pop the clip out and check the goods, joyful that I’m sitting pretty with a full clip and his friends lying in wait.

  “What happened? I thought you had this?”

  “Don’t start with me, Mike. I’ll add a third body to the count here and won’t think twice about it,” Natasha sternly replies. “I got this fat fart first but this piece of crap tripped the alarm before I could drop him.”

  I stow away the extra clips and chamber a round as the sound of boots and tactical gear tickle my ear. It’s coming from behind and up top. I’m not sure how many soldiers are behind us, but it sounds like a lot.

  We both stay low and well within the confines of the station, bending down with our pistols clutched tightly in our palms. I glance at the two guards, hoping a frag grenade, chemical grenade, or just so
mething that looks like a damn explosive will appear before me, but find nothing of the sort. The soldiers’ weapons cock and train at our backs.

  “So, do you want to go out and talk to them or should I?” I say jokingly. Right now, I’m kind of feeling virile. Good thing too, looks like I’m gonna need them.

  “I think I’ll let you take this one. After all, they probably want you more than me,” Natasha says with a smirk.

  She keeps low and inches forward some, looking up at one of the security monitors that the two dead guards failed to keep an eye on as we strolled in. She seems unshaken, her head still and motionless as she stares at the screen. I try to get a peek from where I am, only seeing a blur of black bodies within the gray CC TV. Natasha takes a few steps back and sighs. I’m not sure if she wanted me to hear it or not.

  “Toss any weapons you have on your person to the side and step up and out slowly with your hands behind your heads!” an almost computerized voice sternly orders. “You have one minute to comply!”

  “I don’t know about you, but I’m thinking about taking my chances,” I say. “After all, how much worse could things get for me?”

  Natasha looks over the control board, focused as if she’s looking for something. I can almost see the wheels steam rolling inside her head, possibly concocting some crazy ass diversion or something that will add to the shit stew we’re already simmering in. I hate surprises.

  “Ok, it’s not the best plan, but the only one that I’ve got right now,” Natasha says flatly. “I hope you’re as good of a shot as I’m hoping you are.”

  I don’t have time to ask what she’s planning as she jumps up and smashes a clear plastic cover with the butt end of her pistol. She places her palm face down and holds it.

  “What does that do?”

  The sirens start up again and a bright hue of red catches my eye as it reflects off the controls inside the station. Natasha swivels while kneeling and turns towards the soldiers, cautiously lifting her pistol. I follow suit and get to my feet as the bright glow of lights in front of each cell flashes a dark red intermittently.

  Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!

  The soldiers don’t seem to be concerned with us anymore. They’re more worried about what’s going on with all the cells. Some bolt for the door only to find it sealed shut and not budging at their panicked strikes.

  In perfect sync, the Plexiglas barriers fall into the ground and the steel doors retract into the wall. Casey lets out a steady, controlled breath as she pauses and trains her gun dead ahead. Silence grips the room and holds everyone’s nerves hostage as movement within the cells strikes a chord and brings everyone back to life.

  “Still thinking this was a good idea?” I ask.

  “They’re not worrying about us anymore, are they?”

  One of the soldiers opens fire at one of the dead barreling out of its cell, bullets ripping through its sagging flesh and impacting the wall in its cell. Its mutated arms stretched out in front, it lunges and tackles the soldier. With a single strike from its arm, it tosses the soldier’s weapon to the side and tears into his neck, pulling and tugging at the savory meat.

  Like a domino effect, the soldiers start firing at all the different abominations bursting out of their cells. Voracious would be putting it mildly as these things make the dead I’ve encountered so far look like a walk in a really messed up park.

  Chaotic and a total blood bath, the soldiers fight as best they can, taking some out with precision head shots while others fire uncontrollably. I can hear the chat of some radioing for backup, a hail Mary, as their brothers-in-arms are devoured. For now, Casey is on the side of the living. She’s lethal as she moves from infected to infected, splattering their brains out the back of their heads.

  “Nice shooting. I wasn’t sure which way you were going to lean on this. Watch out!” I yell over the carnage as I grab Natasha’s arm and yank her to the ground. A barrage of bullets strikes the station we’re huddled up in as I catch the sound of something lurking around us—a clawing noise like fingernails trailing down a chalk board.

  It’s burnt and blackened arm darts inside and grabs Natasha by the leg, yanking her out of our safe haven and into the madness beyond. I reach for her arm, but she disappears around the corner, letting out a single yell.

  Without pause, I spring to my feet and enter the horrid buffet of the dead feasting on the living and recently deceased soldiers. Blood is splattered all over, and a combination of the infected and soldiers canvas the once clean slate. A massive infected creature is dragging Natasha off in the opposite direction of the main mess.

  She fires towards its head, missing and hitting it repeatedly in its shoulders. It doesn’t even flinch as the bullets tear apart its flesh. Her pistol clicks empty. I take aim and ready my shot. Something drills me in the side and slams me against the wall. My pistol bolts and I feel the heated and heavy breathing of something trying to get to the side of my head. Natasha disappears once more around another corner, and I fear that’s the end of her line.

  I’ve got my arm placed between me and the dead, bile oozing out of its contorted mouth to my shirt. It’s strong and unrelenting, pushing harder and harder, trying to overpower me. I throw my weight towards it and gain some distance, enough to slip to the side. I grab it by where I think its shoulders are, and throw it forward head first, slamming its skin challenged skull into the wall. Its neck snaps and its head cracks open like an egg. It falls to the ground lifeless.

  I peer off in the direction where Natasha was dragged and head that way. Something falls from above and lands hard behind me. I twist around and find Trenton on top of some kind of mutated animal, plunging his fist into the creature’s body and ripping out its insides.

  The creature, standing on its hind legs like a bear, roars out loud as Trenton leans in close and bites the hell out of its neck. He pulls away, taking a massive chunk of flesh from the creature and sending it falling to the floor before me. With a single blow, Trenton craters the creature’s deformed skull with his fist, brain matter caking his hand as he gets back to his feet. He looks up at me, chest heaving and fluid leaking from his torn, dried lips.

  I give a simple nod, not sure if Trenton understands the basic gesture, and hurry over to where Natasha was taken. My rule still hasn’t changed, I don’t trust anyone here, but Natasha has inside knowledge and that is useful. For now, anyways.

  Before I can make the corner, Natasha appears bloody from head to toe and wielding a knife that drips blood. Chunks of meat dangle from the blade’s serrated edge. I quickly look her over, checking for scratches or bites of any kind or size. I would ask if she’s ok, but she’s standing and doesn’t look like she’s been bitten or anything.

  “I’m fine, thanks for asking,” Natasha sarcastically says, peering back over her shoulder.

  I look into the darkened corner and find the mutated infected slashed to bits; nothing but a pile of ragged meat and bone that is completely unrecognizable. Not that I could tell what it was before anyways.

  “And here I thought you were the one that was going to end up dead.”

  Natasha half-heartedly snickers as the slight smirk is wiped away, and her eyes train straight ahead. Lips taut, she flips the knife, the serrated blade facing outwards. I cock my head to the side and find Trenton keeling down and feasting on the abomination’s body.

  “He’s ok.”

  “Ok, my ass,” Natasha replies. “Look at that shit. He’s eating that thing.”

  “It’s hard to explain and I obliviously don’t have the first clue as to what is happening, but it seems that he kills the dead and not the living, strange as that may be.”

  “Why hasn’t he killed you then? You look more like them than a non-flesh eater.”

  “Guess because I’m neither dead nor alive. Maybe something in between—a hybrid?”

  The gunfire has ceased now and the sound of the remaining dead growling and feasting on the soldiers’ bodies fills the room. On
e of the two obstacles in our way has been taken care of. Now we just have whatever dead is left to contend with. But I have a thought that I didn’t think much of earlier. Not with facing another murder of twisted flesh and souls trying to kill me.

  If Trenton is here, where is Alice?

  The notion is quickly kicked aside as out of the corner of my eye, I see a small group of mutated dead glancing our way. Chests heaving and blood dripping from their elongated fingers, I can almost feel their ravenous appetite as they look us up and down.

  The devil on my shoulder rears his ugly head once more and whispers faintly in my ear, plainly and without a hint of doubt or remorse.

  Toss the chick to the hungry wolves over there and get the hell out. She’s pretty much told you where to go. You don’t need her anymore. She’ll just slow you down or worse, betray you and keep you from getting your answers and ultimately, getting back to Becky. You know I’m right.

  I peer at Natasha, whose full attention is dead ahead and not paying me any mind. I could slip away right now and she probably wouldn’t even notice it. I don’t owe her anything and she volunteered for this.

  I’m teetering on the fence when the sagging flesh before us shrills loud and advances forward, mouths open and hands reaching for us. Something inside me compels me forward and on a collision path with the dead. Trenton explodes out of my peripheral and lands in the meat grinder.

  He wastes no time at relieving one of the dead of his head, ripping it clean from its body and knocking the headless corpse to the side. The others grab Trenton and focus on him, the mayhem of dead blending into a blur of rotted meat as blood flies.

  “This is our chance to get the hell out of here,” Natasha says. She wastes little time running past me and back to the control center.

  Trenton manages to tear into another one of the mutated dead as he grabs it by the throat with his teeth, ripping in the opposite direction and tearing its esophagus from its body.

  “Mike, what the hell are you doing?” Natasha yells at me. “Let’s go!”

  One of remaining dead grabs Trenton by his forehead from behind and yanks his head back, digging its teeth into his neck and not letting go. Coagulated blood runs out from under the infected’s mouth and down his chest. Trenton’s cold, black eye’s gaze upon mine as the weight of the dead flesh on his back throws him to the ground. It pays me no mind, for the moment, as it feasts upon Trenton’s rotted flesh. Guess they’re not picky either.