Randy cocked his fist back and struck Krumer in the side of the face. The man leaned away with the blow, laughing it off as he kept squeezing. Randy struck him again and then again, though the inmate didn’t budge. Throwing his shoulder and hands forward, Randy shoved Krumer off the sheriff in a tackle move. As if expecting it, Krumer released Stans and snatched Randy’s left arm with his big paw.
“Got you,” Krumer sneered, pulling Randy forward while he brought his elbow around to connect with Randy’s temple.
Randy’s head snapped back, stars streaking through his brain, and his body fell limp. He tumbled to the bloody floor like a rag doll. He was aware of Krumer coming around the table after him, so he tried to crawl backwards even as his limbs rebelled from the shock of the near knockout blow.
The meaty paws reached for him, but Randy kicked out with one leg as he retreated across the bloody floor. A stillness settled over him. An angry, enraged stillness that threw all caution to the wind.
“Come on,” he growled, kicking his boot into Krumer’s knee.
Krumer winced and backed up, giving Randy time to get to his feet. Randy’s legs shook, and the left side of his head ached with pain, yet he was still standing. Still fighting.
With a glance past Krumer, Randy saw Jenny sneaking up behind the man. Her hands were balled into fists, and her eyes had a reckless look. Randy feigned a kick, and Krumer responded by trying to snatch Randy’s ankle.
Jenny took two more steps and leaped onto Krumer’s back. Her legs wrapped around his waist, and her hand grasped the knife handle already in his back and worked it up and down, growling as she dug it deeper. Krumer screamed and howled, spinning in a circle, reaching back to grab Jenny like a bear trying to dislodge a monkey.
She avoided being caught for a few precious moments, but then Krumer jerked his head back and connected with Jenny’s chin. She fell backwards, bringing the knife with her as she crashed to the tiles.
Randy saw the knife clatter away, so he ran to it, and snatched it off the floor.
Krumer stood over Jenny with his foot on her chest. The big man adjusted his stance so that his jail-issued sneaker slid to her throat and pressed down. Fueled with rage, Randy screamed and rushed forward.
The inmate saw Randy coming and threw out his fist to stop him. Randy took the blow at the same time he plunged the knife into the man’s throat with a sickening, wet smack.
Gasping and stumbling, blood gushing down his chest, Krumer jerked the blade out of his throat and glared at Randy with insane hatred. Blowing bloody bubbles around his neck wound, Krumer flipped the knife around and lunged at Randy.
A shotgun blast hit Krumer in the side of the head. Bloody bits of him exploded in all directions, and Randy turned his visor away as some of it flew his way.
The enormous body hit the floor with a thud, and Randy turned to see who had fired. The old man, Jones, stood there with the guard’s shotgun in his hand, barrel still smoking from the shot. Bickens stood over by the cell block door, looking at the bloody scene with a terrified expression.
Seeing Randy’s shock, old Jones looked rueful. “We came as soon as we heard the ruckus.”
“Took you all that time to get down the hall?” Randy said.
“These old legs aren’t what they used to be,” Jones did a brief shuffle. “I won’t be breaking any land speed records anytime soon.”
Randy nodded. “Thanks. We owe you one.”
Randy turned to his sister and held out his hand. “You okay, sis?”
“I think so.” Jenny took Randy’s hand and let him pull her to her feet. Then she rubbed her jaw. “Feels like someone took a hammer to my face.” She nodded to his mask. “You think you breathed in any BD?”
Randy shrugged and adjusted his air filtration mask. “I’m not sure. I guess we’ll find out soon enough.” His gaze lingered on Krumer’s corpse, then he walked over on shaky legs, rolled the man over with a grunt, and snatched the sheriff’s ID from his belt.
“Randy... Sheriff Stans...” Jenny’s voice was urgent and sad.
Stans was no longer moving. Head hanging low, Randy strode over to the table and looked down. The sheriff’s glassy gray eyes stared up at the ceiling, his face pale with blood loss. He wasn’t breathing.
“I really liked the sheriff,” Jones said, approaching with the shotgun.
“He was a good man,” Randy said in a shaky voice. “He just bit off way more than he could chew. We all did.”
They stood in silence for a moment before Jones looked around. “Now, can you kids tell us what in the world is going on out there and if we’re going to survive it?”
Chapter 44
Kim Shields, Washington, D.C.
Kim jogged from the control room to the quarantine area on the east side of the CDC facility, trying not to appear too rushed in case she ran into Burke or one of his men. It was likely they’d be somewhere on the west side of the facility, either in their own rooms or in the commons area.
If Bryant’s men weren’t infected with Asphyxia, Kim could release them and even the odds against Burke and his goons.
Entering the examination prep room, Kim stepped around a table covered with latex gloves, dust masks, and medical supplies. Cabinets and drawers lined the walls, and there was a supply closet on the east and west sides of the room.
Kim moved across the room where a control panel waited next to some sliding doors. The examination room was behind them. She punched a button on the control panel and spoke to Bryant’s soldiers in their quarantine rooms.
“Good afternoon, gentlemen,” she said.
Kim stepped over to the supply table and snatched a pair of latex gloves while she waited for the soldiers to reply.
The first soldier spoke up through the intercom. “I’m here, ma’am. Private Sims.”
“Private Gonzalez here,” said the second soldier.
“Okay, good,” Kim said as she slapped the gloves on her hands. “Boys, we have a situation here. General Miller wants Burke Birkenhoff and his men locked down. Lieutenant Colonel Bryant is aware, and he’s gone to his room to retrieve his weapons. I’m letting you fellows out to help Bryant, after I give you a cursory inspection.”
“Sounds good,” Sims acknowledged. “I’ve been checking myself out. No signs of the fungus on me.”
“Same here,” Gonzalez piped up.
“I’ll let you out of your cells now.” Kim spoke in a professional tone even though her nerves were on fire. “I want you to walk to the end of the quarantine hall and wait for me to open the examination room doors.”
Kim started to unlock the soldier’s cells when Pauline’s voice stopped her.
“Hands off the console, Kim.”
Kim turned as Pauline entered the room with a pistol in her hand and an icy stare. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Take your hand off the console,” the assistant repeated.
Kim kept her voice calm and her hand on the console even though the sight of the gun terrified her. “I just need to examine the soldiers.”
“You’re not going to examine anyone.” Pauline waved the weapon. “And you’re not going to lock us up.”
“How...?” Kim’s voice trailed off.
“Burke’s got a little hacking tool that works with just about any communication software,” Pauline shrugged. “The CDC is behind a strong firewall, but there’s not a lot of internal security. It wasn’t hard. You’d be surprised how resourceful Burke is.”
“I’ll admit,” Kim slid her fingers toward the cell control buttons. “We’re interested in Burke paying for what he’s done, but you’re not to blame. We know you’re just Burke’s assistant, and you didn’t create or distribute Harvest Guard.”
The distant rattling of gunfire reached Kim’s ears, and her eyes widened as she realized Burke must have declared a full-out war on them. She glared at Pauline. “He’s bringing it all down, isn’t he? Everything we’ve worked for. Everything we’ve accomplished here.
”
Pauline raised the gun and pointed it at Kim’s head. The woman was fifteen yards away, standing just on the other side of the supply tables. “You don’t understand, do you?” she said imploringly. “There’s no coming back from this. Burke doesn’t have anyone to help you make more of whatever you’re trying to make. His scientists are missing, his facilities shut down. It’s every person for themselves.”
Kim kept her fingers on the pad, swallowing down the fear. While Pauline didn’t seem like a killer, her eyes bulged with firm resolution. She looked like a woman who’d convinced herself she was doing the right thing, and Kim knew she’d pull the trigger. But if Kim didn’t do something, Burke would kill them anyway, and the world would waste away with no chance of a cure.
With a gasp, Kim pressed the buttons to release the soldiers’ cell doors and dove to her right just as a bullet slammed into the wall a foot above the console. Kim crouch-walked around the edge of the room, staying low and close to the cabinets as Pauline took pot shots at her.
Bullets tore into the wood cabinets and sprayed Kim’s neck and shoulders with chips. Kim stopped behind a short, rolling cabinet and remained squatting as two bullets slammed into it.
She reached to her hip with her Smith & Wesson and flipped off the safety. Kim gripped the gun in both hands and rose, pointed it at Pauline, and fired.
It had been years since Kim had shot a gun, though she had a good idea of what to expect. Still, the kick jolted her shoulder, and the sharp report caused her to wince.
Pauline’s chest jerked, and she stumbled backwards with a look of surprise and pain on her face. The assistant fired another shot as she fell, and something stung Kim in her left side just below her breast. She gasped in shock and pain, yet her legs remained steady.
With the barrel of her weapon trained on Pauline, Kim circled the supply table toward her. The woman writhed on the ground with her gun lying next to her. Her chest was red with blood, and her painful moan caused a shiver to run up Kim’s spine.
Kim squatted, and picked up Pauline’s gun, tucking it into the waistband of her jeans. Then she backed away, staring in disbelief at what she’d done. The wound looked terrible, probably lethal, and the only person who could help her was Dr. Flannery.
Feet came running down the hallway, and Kim heard Burke’s voice and Richtman’s reply. Her eyes darted to the left and right, looking for a place to hide. If Burke found her, he’d have no qualms about putting a bullet in her head. Kim turned and rushed over to the storage closet. She opened the door, stepped inside, and closed the door behind her just as the two entered the prep room.
Breathing steadily, blood seeping down her left side, Kim listened as the feet stopped running. She imagined Burke and Richtman staring at Pauline and her massive chest wound.
Kim heard one soldier through the intercom.
“Ma’am, this is Gonzales and Sims. Are you okay? We heard gunshots.”
She heard Burke’s angry whispers and Richtman’s reply before they shuffled further into the room. Kim gently eased open the storage room door and peered through the crack. She watched as the two men stood near the supply table, whispering between themselves. They held lethal looking assault-style rifles cradled in their arms.
“If Shields is hiding in the quarantine area somewhere,” Burke snarled, “you leave her for me. I want to see that bitch squirm before she dies.”
“You got it boss,” Richtman replied. “Don’t worry about the soldiers. They won’t be armed.”
Kim’s insides sank as the two men moved to the control panel. Burke pressed the button to open the examination room doors. Both men stepped back with their rifle barrels lowered as the doors slid open. Seeing no one in the room, the men moved across the threshold.
Half-sobbing, chest stinging with pain and dread, Kim opened the supply closet door and stepped out. Raising her pistol, Kim edged toward the open examination room doors and the intercom.
Burke and Richtman were on the other side of the room, closing in on the second set of doors that marked the quarantine area. Sims and Gonzalez would be just on the other side.
Kim raised her weapon and shouted, “Sims and Gonzalez, watch out! They’re armed!” Then she fired multiple times at Richtman’s back, watching as the man first ducked and then howled in pain when one of her bullets struck home.
Burke dropped into a crouch, spun, and fired a three-round blind burst in Kim’s direction. Kim danced to her right to avoid the zipping bullets and slammed her hand on the button to shut and lock the doors.
Then she turned and ran. Part of her ached for the soldiers she’d trapped inside with those madmen, though at least she’d given them warning. She might have even given them more of a chance by wounding Richtman, too.
Her first priority had to be helping Tom in the control center. They had to preserve the B-18 formula and Samantha Roger’s treatment plan. And Kim had to make sure Tom was still alive.
Kim approached the intersection between the staff quarters and the CDC control center. She looked to her right down the straight hallway that led to the control center. Then she glanced ahead down the curving hallway that led to the staff quarters. If Bryant had survived Burke’s goons, he might need her help. Together, they could hole up in the control center and mount a defense.
She took two steps forward and jerked to a halt as gunfire erupted ahead of her. Men screamed, and more bursts of gunfire ripped off, loud in the confined space. She couldn’t see who it was because of the curvature of the hall, and she didn’t stick around to find out.
“No more messing around, Kim,” she hissed to herself as she backed up and then sprinted down the hallway to the control center. She had to lock things down there, with or without Bryant and his soldiers.
Kim’s heart skipped a beat when she realized the big steel door to the control center had already slid away, leaving the place wide open. Kim slowed down, moving more cautiously, leading with her weapon as her ears strained to hear.
She smelled the smoke of burning electronic components and gunpowder when she was twenty yards from the door. Unable to control the sheer dread of what she might find, Kim rushed into the room, pointing her gun around in case one of Burke’s buddies was waiting for her.
No one was there, not even Dr. Flannery.
The room was still as Kim’s eyes scanned from left to right. The place was shot to pieces. High-speed computers sparked, snapped, and sizzled. Monitors blinked through spiderweb cracks. The delicate analytical equipment in the center of the room looked chewed to pieces. Ceiling tiles and wires hung down.
Kim reached out and leaned on the back of a nearby chair for support. It was all gone: all their work and breakthroughs.
Jaw clenched tight, Kim looked over her shoulder at the door. If Burke thought he would get away with destroying a government facility to cover up his misdeeds, he’d better think again. Kim would make sure he paid for it, and she wouldn’t wait for General Miller. She’d do it herself.
The door to the supply closet swung open, and Kim dropped into a crouch as she brought her weapon up.
Tom Flannery stumbled into the room, his chest riddled with holes, shirt saturated with blood. His eyes flared with pain as he coughed bloody spittle onto his chin. The doctor dropped the gun he was holding, stumbled against a desk, and fell to his knees.
Kim started to go to him, but the doctor waved her off. “Shut and lock the door,” he said in a pained voice. “The override key is 3-1-2-7-8. When Burke realizes you’re alive, he’ll come back and try to finish what he started.
“He can try,” Kim growled through clenched teeth as she marched to the door, plugged in the override key, and slammed her palm on the close door button.
The big, steel door hissed shut, locking them inside.
Chapter 45
Kim Shields, Washington, D.C.
Kim’s heart sunk and tears streamed down her cheeks as she tried to stop Tom’s bleeding. It was bad. The doctor was in big troubl
e. He’d taken one or two rounds to the stomach, his right fibula was fractured, and the flesh wound in his arm wouldn’t stop bleeding despite the tightly tied tourniquet she’d applied.
After laying him on the floor with a soft chair cushion under his head, Kim had run to the storage closet and retrieved two first aid kits. Then she’d used all the gauze and bandages to stop the bleeding. She’d even removed her T-shirt and tried to stuff it into his belly wounds, but the white garment became saturated within seconds.
“They made these damn first aid kits for minor burns and cuts, not extensive bleeding.” Kim tossed an empty roll of medical tape to the side in frustration.
“It’s okay, Kim.” Tom said, patting her hand. His eyes started to glaze over.
“Don’t you dare,” Kim growled, clutching his hand.
“I’m not ready to go just yet,” he said, swallowing dry. “I was just thinking back to when I met Marta for the first time. It was back in college. She was an Education major, and I was just starting my first year of Med School. I was in the library trying to study when I heard two young women laughing quietly in the back. I got up and went to shush them and found Marta and her friend, Bethany, laughing at something in a magazine.
“Both of them were fine looking young women, but Marta...That woman...” Tom let out a quiet sigh. “She was a beauty to behold. I never believed in love at first sight until that moment. I asked her out right away, without even knowing her name.”
Kim squeezed her eyes tight, grinding her jaw as tears burned her cheeks. “Did she say yes?”
“She did.” Tom patted Kim’s hand “Don’t be sad. I feel like I’m on the verge of...” Tom swallowed and then winced as a shudder ran through his body. After a moment, his expression relaxed and he was able to continue. “On the verge of something big. No more worries, and I get to see my Marta again.”
“Yes, you do,” Kim nodded as her body sunk.
The doctor seemed on the verge of taking his last breath when he stiffened and raised his head. “Kim...”
Spore Series (Book 1): Spore Page 25
