“Okay, keep close to me and follow my lead.” Howell opened the airlock style door, and they all went out into the unknown.
25.08.19
Manchester, UK
Brian sat on the bottom step of the stairs and waited for the inevitable. It was only a matter of time for the undead to break through, the number of shots sounding ever more frantic as what was left of Clay’s men tried to prevent the attacking force from penetrating into the mansion. A burning in his skin had joined the annoying itch which was spreading mercilessly throughout much of his body. Pulling down the belt of his trousers, he saw that the signs of the infection had already reached his waist.
“Boss,” Bulldog said frantically as he appeared from the kitchen. “We can’t hold them. They are ripping the security shutter right off the wall.”
“Then that’s it then,” Brian said.
“What?” Bulldog couldn’t believe what he was hearing. He’d never known Brian to just give up like this.
“We’re done for.” Standing, Brian turned and began to walk up the stairs with heavy legs. The sound of almost repeated gunfire came from the kitchen now, as well as the sounds of men panicking. The assault was obviously reaching its climax. How long would their ammunition last?
“But Boss…” Bulldog seemed to beg.
“There’s nothing I can do, Bulldog. Best you make your peace with whatever God you still believe in.” Brian had resigned himself to whatever happened next, so it was only right that the men who looked up to him do the same. Briefly, Bulldog went back into the kitchen, but he soon returned to the ground floor reception area. By then, Brian was on the second level, and he gazed down as the men in the kitchen retreated, the undead swarming after them. Armed only with his revolver, all Brian could do was stand helplessly as the last of Clay’s minions were ripped to pieces.
This wasn’t about infection and spreading the virus, this was annihilation, three, four, five zombies entering for every remaining human that was left to put up some kind of fight. Even if the kitchen security shutter hadn’t broken apart, the undead would have got in eventually. They would have pounded and pulled on the metal until something had finally failed, destroying their own bodies in the process if that was required.
Bulldog was the last to go down, his gun running dry, the knife he pulled useless against the five zombies that tore at him. His screams were brief, the savagery of the attack ripping the head clean from his body. It was flung towards the stairs, landing halfway up, only to roll methodically back down, bouncing slightly with each step. Strangely, the zombies didn’t feed off it, and together they moved towards the stairs, more piling in from the breach in the mansion’s defences.
Brian backed up. He didn’t run, somehow fearing that if he let panic take charge, it would somehow trigger the undead to rush him. By the time he reached Clay’s bedroom and closed the door behind him, none of them had yet to reach the second floor.
Susan was sat waiting for him, the rats out of sight. She smiled at him in a way that told Brian she was satisfied with how things were progressing.
“And Florence?” Susan asked.
“Florence is gone,” Brian said. Susan sighed at that. Not with any satisfaction of the woman’s death, but an acceptance that the doctor had finally relented to the inevitable. If only more of the men here had just taken their own lives to help the virus along, it would have prevented a lot of the unpleasantness witnessed in the last thirty minutes.
Brian didn’t bother trying to bolster the bedroom door. There was nothing he could do that would stop the undead breaking through into this room if they had the determination to. He didn’t need the gun either, not anymore. Resigned to whatever fate was awaiting him, he removed the pistol from its holster and placed it on the bed.
“That’s okay, we don’t need her,” Susan said. The case with the vials held an injection unit, and Susan had already set up one of the doses ready. It sat on the bathroom unit, next to the razor blades that she had never even had to use. “Follow me,” Susan said, “I think it’s time for your medicine.”
Susan stood, her nakedness unimportant. With seemingly no other option, Brian followed her into the bathroom, where Clay stood whimpering. He was covered in blood that had stained through his clothes, especially in the groin area. The two rats sat in the bathroom sink, their job obviously complete, red footprints all around them. Giving one of them a gentle stroke, Susan picked up the injection gun.
“You should kill her, Brian,” Clay demanded weakly. “She’s gone insane.”
“And whose fault is that do you think?” Brian answered.
“She’s sick in the head. You brought mental illness into my home, Brian.”
“Yeah,” Susan laughed, “’cos you’re so emotionally balanced. How many women have you killed in here, Clay?”
“It’s not like that,” Clay insisted. “They all deserved what they got.”
“So you admit you’re a rapist and a murderer,” Brian stated accusingly. The itch had spread to his hands now, and looking at them, he could almost watch the tendrils as they crept along his flesh. His time was running out, and at any moment he kept expecting the undead to come bursting into the bedroom. Nausea and fever were building within him, the infection building to a climax.
“They were just sluts, Brian. They weren’t worthy of anything.” Clay’s voice was hoarse, tortured by the pleas and the cries he had expelled as the rats had attacked him. Brian turned to Susan.
“Are you really sure you want to waste the cure on him?” He suddenly felt sickened by Clay, realising he had wasted his life helping a mad man obtain and keep power and wealth. Whatever Susan was planning was less than the sick fiend deserved.
“Oh yes,” Susan said gleefully. “What I have planned will be absolutely the worst thing that can happen to him.”
“I don’t understand any of this. And what happens to me?” Brian asked.
“Have I ever asked you to trust me, Brian?”
“No Susan, you haven’t.”
“Well, I’m asking for that trust now. Help me get my revenge.” Brian looked at her and accepted what she said. As frail as she had been, she suddenly seemed supremely powerful, filled with purpose and determination. There was a strength in her that he had rarely witnessed in another human being.
“Don’t listen to this fucking alky, Brian. Get me out of this and we can still make this right.” Brian shook his head.
“No, Clay. You don’t get to order people around anymore. And don’t think any of the men will be coming to help you.”
“They are still my men,” Clay suddenly roared. “They work for me.”
“They are all dead, Clay. There’s nobody left to help you.” Clay actually started crying at that, desperate tears pouring down his face. The rats had taken both ears, but they had left his eyes intact.
“You’ll pay for this, Brian. You will both pay for this.” Even now, with everything that had happened to him, he couldn’t stop with the pathetic threats.
“No. No, we won’t.” Susan held up the injection gun and stepped up to Clay who, although chained, still tried to cower away. Feebly, Clay tried to kick her, but she easily dodged his attempted blows. “Hold his head, Brian.” Brian did as she asked, pulling Clay’s head to one side, Clay trying to resist as best he could. The muscles of his neck were strong, but Brian was stronger, and he exposed the pulsing vessels that lay vulnerable on the skin’s surface. Susan pressed the injection gun to his flesh.
“I’ve never done this before,” Susan warned, “so it might smart a tad.”
“Fucking bitch,” Clay spat. Susan depressed the trigger, injecting the XV1 into Clay’s neck. Stepping back, she indicated that Brian could release him.
“What now?” Brian asked.
“Now it’s your turn. Unless you would rather die and come back as one of the undead?” Brian inhaled deeply. Stepping away from Clay, he reached for the final vial of XV1 and clutched it in his hands. Did he want this?
If it worked, he would live, but what kind of a life would it be? To reject it, all he had to do was drop the vial and crush it under the tread of his boot. Then he could walk out into the bedroom, pick up the gun and end it all. No more pain, no more suffering. Just endless, infinite nothingness, or whatever else kind of afterlife there was.
He handed the final dose of XV1 to Susan, who loaded it up into the injection gun. She was definitely pleased with his choice.
“Good decision, Brian,” she said. “I still blame you for my being here, but everything I went through had a purpose. So in a way, I should be thanking you.” Brian just looked at her blankly. “What I’m trying to say is I forgive you. Give me your arm, and let’s take this final trip together.”
Brian did just that, and he barely felt it as Susan stuck the device against his flesh, injecting into him the lifesaving fluid. She failed to tell Brian what the antiserum would do to him or the person he would soon be. He would have to discover that on his own.
25.08.19
Frederick, USA
Gabriel found the lift before he found Schmidt’s office. As luck would have it, the elevator was already descending, reinforcements for the alarm that had been sounding for less than five minutes. Shooting out another surveillance camera, he positioned himself in the door of a storeroom and waited for the lift doors to open, the gun he had stripped from Jackson’s body flipped on to full automatic. He aimed at where he expected soldiers to pour out, the lift door giving the impending attackers very limited options.
Silently the lift stopped, the white doors sliding to one side. Four soldiers were inside the lift cabin, and they didn’t even have time to react before Gabriel’s bullets ripped into them. Their Kevlar was worthless because he fired everything he had at their heads, a full magazine of ammunition emptied into them. Nobody survives that, the bodies slumping in and out of the lift, bones, teeth and eyes all decimated. Four fewer soldiers to deal with, Gabriel said to himself, one of the fallen men still twitching as the body went through its final lethargic death throes. Cautiously, Gabriel stepped over to the bodies, using the acquired revolver to put a round in each head just to be sure.
The bodies he left to stop the lift door from closing. Nobody else would be coming down any time soon so with luck he now held dominion over this level. His way to Schmidt was clear as far as he could see, although he was sure that any other obstacles he encountered could easily be dealt with.
Gabriel was lucky. The designers of this facility had never envisaged someone like him being let loose in it. This was a place for research, not armed conflict. Thus, whilst strong security doors were common throughout to help fend off the risk of an infected person escaping, the doors to individual offices were just plain old wood. Schmidt’s office did require security access, but the door quickly relented to the lock being shot out.
With bare feet, Gabriel nudged the door inwards, letting it swing freely. The office was small, a single desk, a bookcase and a small sofa. And there was Schmidt, sat defiantly behind her desk, the absence of any ornamentation to the room screaming how lacking the Professor was in personality. She was her work, nothing more.
Carson might have been the one who ordered Gabriel’s incarceration, but the Major was merely a soldier following orders. This right here was the mind behind everything that was happening in this facility. The coldness in her heart was what allowed innocent people to be infected with Lazarus, to allow a child to be held against her will for experimentation. All in the name of science, you understand.
Schmidt gazed back at him, not an ounce of fear detectable on her face, which was surprising.
“I did tell you to let me go,” he said, stepping into the room. “You do remember me telling you that, don’t you?”
“You’re done for,” Schmidt warned. “Men are on the way.”
“I’m sure they are,” Gabriel said, closing the door behind him. “Do you really want them to shoot me though? Don’t you have more experiments to perform?” Schmidt actually seemed to smile. She still seemed to think she had the upper hand, as if she was in control of the situation. Did her madness really make her that delusional? Gabriel had only been given a brief meeting to assess her, but he had absolutely no doubt she was most likely insane.
“Everything I have done has been for the furtherance of science,” Schmidt blustered. “Killing me won’t change anything.”
“It will stop your research,” Gabriel countered. “It will stop you using me as a lab rat.”
“No, that will continue. Even with you dead, someone will still be able to extract what they need from the carcass you leave behind.”
“Who’s to say there will be anything left of me?”
“There’s no way you can succeed here,” Schmidt insisted. Reaching into one of the smaller pockets of his Kevlar vest, Gabriel pulled out the eye he had carefully cut from Carson’s face and threw it at the professor. It landed on the desk in front of her, Schmidt hardly showing any reaction at all.
“Major Carson would disagree with you. I reckon if I take your eyes, that will get me what I need.” With his gun pointed at Schmidt, Gabriel took a step forward. “The only question is whether I leave you alive or not after I take them. I think I like the idea of that, leaving you blinded down here. You can avoid that of course, so you and I are going to have a little chat about this facility.” Slowly, he slipped the knife he had taken from Carson and stabbed it into the wood of Schmidt’s desk. “Don’t make me use that on you,” he said pointing at the knife, “because I really am on borrowed time here.” Gabriel took a step back and sat down on the sofa, suddenly weary of the life he was being forced to live.
“I’m not afraid of you,” Schmidt insisted.
“That was your mistake from the start. You should be very afraid of me.”
“There’s no way you are getting out of here. There’s a whole army on the surface.”
“Again, you aren’t understanding the situation. I have no illusion I am going to survive this, and neither should you. The only hope you have is to avoid a painful death.” Schmidt looked at the knife. It was within her reach. Could she grab it and use it to defend herself?
“Go on, take it. Maybe you can get lucky.” Schmidt didn’t listen to his urging. Was there any way she could survive this? There was always hope, she was certain of that. Schmidt wasn’t ready to give up just yet.
“You are dooming humanity,” Schmidt suddenly insisted. “With your blood, I… we can find a cure to this thing. It’s still not too late. Please, don’t do this.” Was this the first time Schmidt had ever pleaded like this? Of course it was, the Professor had been given the luxury of having everything pretty much handed to her all her life.
“You think I care? You think I give a damn about humanity?” Gabriel stood up and pulled the knife from Schmidt’s desk. “Enough of this. It’s time for you to decide how you want to die.”
***
Everyone but Lizzy was armed. Walking carefully now, they made their way down the corridors that would lead them in the same direction as Gabriel. They had to go this way, because there were only two ways up to the surface.
“The lift may be on lockdown due to the alarm, but there is an escape ladder that we can hopefully access.” Jee had never been told of the ladder, only those guarding the place and the senior staff on each level were aware of it.
Howell led the way. He had no idea what they would do when and if they reached the surface. It would all depend on what happened over the prevailing minutes.
“How far are we below the surface?” Reece asked.
“Fifteen floors,” Howell said. Reece looked down at Lizzy and wondered if she would be able to make the climb. She would make it, Reece would see to that.
Passing through another door, they walked past the lab that was the scene of Gabriel’s slaughter. Lizzy was too short to see through the windows, which Reece was thankful for. She kept the girl close to her though, protective of a girl she barely knew. The corr
idor turned a corner and they encountered a body lying sprawled against one wall, half the body’s brains smeared out from where they had been propelled out of the skull by the bullet’s impact. Lizzy couldn’t fail to see that, and she was strangely quiet, looking at the carcass with eyes too young to see such sights.
“What about Schmidt?” Reece asked.
“What about her?” Howell had never liked the woman. He had no intention of saving her from whatever fate awaited her at the hands of Gabriel.
“Don’t we need her to get to the surface?”
“No,” Howell said. He didn’t elaborate. The ladder was an emergency measure, the door to it triggering an alarm that would sound on the surface. In fact, had the virus escaped quarantine, it wouldn’t have been a yellow light flashing. Instead the rooms and corridors would have been bathed in a red glow, the system shutting down the elevator and destroying the ladder to the surface by activating explosive bolts that would have detached it from the wall. Even if an infected individual were to somehow go undetected, the ladder would still not have been a means to escape for they wouldn’t be able to get past that final door above. It led up to a secured airlock at ground level that no contaminated individual would ever get through. The designers of this place hadn’t been stupid.
For those intent on escaping impending murder, the ladder might just be the ideal option.
Fortunately for Lizzy, it turned out that they wouldn’t need to use the ladder after all. Turning a final corner, they came across the open elevator, the bodies there evidence of Gabriel’s ongoing slaughter. Howell looked at everyone, sorry that Lizzy had to see this.
“Elevator is the best option,” he said. “There will be soldiers waiting on the upper level, but that we can deal with. You just have to follow my lead.” He looked at Reece specifically. “I’ll need help moving the bodies.” As if to highlight why, the elevator door tried to close, only to be stopped by the mass of dead flesh lying half across the cabin’s threshold. Reece didn’t object, and with her help, the four bodies were quickly moved. Neither Howell or Jee had the access privileges to get into the lift, but with the door open, all they had to do was press the G button.
The Lazarus Strain Chronicles (Book 4): The Dead Page 20
