“On three. One! Two! Three!” Dan said.
Their shields slid down just enough to allow them to swing their batons. Both batons flashed down and connected with their two infected heads. The force of each blow was more than enough to cave in both skulls, and the infected dropped.
They repeated the process until all the infected were down. The short battle seemed to have taken forever, but in reality had lasted less than two minutes.
They paused, waiting for a full two minutes, to make sure the infected stayed down.
Then they cautiously advanced down the hallway. Halfway down, they found a door that had been forced open. They carefully looked around the apartment but found nothing other than blood spatter and stains.
“Looks like maybe one or two of those assholes got in here and turned the occupants,” Ed said flatly.
Dan nodded and motioned to the hallway. They advanced down the rest of the hallway. Dan paid careful attention to the door numbers and when they hit 207, he rapped on it with his baton.
“Hello, inside!”
A muffled hello came back through the door.
“Stay inside and we’ll be back. It looks like we’ve got most of them.”
Xander said something through the door as Dan and Ed moved away.
Dan and Ed met up with Baxter and Wilson on the third floor, where they had dispatched another dozen or so infected. Then Dan and Ed headed back down to the second floor.
“Open up! It’s the police.”
Dan and Ed heard a drill whirring and after a minute or so, the door opened.
They stepped inside and saw a young man and woman inside. The man had a pistol in his hand.
“You can put the pistol down, we’ve neutralized all the infected in the building,” Dan said.
“Thanks for your help, officers. I’m Evelyn, he’s Xander. Can I get you anything? A coffee? A drink?” Evelyn said.
Ed and Dan both shook their heads.
Xander placed the pistol down gently on the table. “How bad was it?”
“Well, outside, there was only one, near the dumpster like you told me, but inside there were almost thirty of them. They managed to break into a couple of apartments and swell their numbers. You might want to evacuate if you can. There are several churches and shelters nearby that are accepting refugees,” Dan replied.
“Well, I did my best to stock up on food and fortify this place. I’m not sure I want to leave and become a refugee,” Xander said, gesturing to the 2x4s he had left by the doorway.
“It looks like you did a pretty good job, but upstairs we saw one place where the infected went through the drywall into the apartment,” Ed said. “We both suggest you get out of here while you can.”
“We’ll take it under advisement. Thanks again,” Xander said.
Dan and Ed picked up their shields and left. “Don’t be afraid to call again if there’s more of ’em,” Ed said over his shoulder.
Xander closed the door and locked it, then began remounting the 2x4s.
“Through the drywall!” Evelyn exclaimed, looking at Xander. “What are we going to do now?”
“Don’t worry, I’ve got a back-up plan. But first, let me do this.”
He went into the spare bedroom and got the last of his lumber and mounted the remaining 2x4s on the wall between his front door and the kitchen where the fridge and stove were. Then he muscled all of his furniture against the wall.
---------
Brad Charchuk sat in the meeting, listening to his Cabinet squabble. Some wanted to deploy Army units in the cities, others wanted to stage evacuations, while another group wanted to cut off and quarantine entire cities, which of course was easier said than done. As the Premier of Alberta, he was supposed to lead Alberta through the storm that was sweeping the globe. The problem was that he was way out of his element.
Prior to joining politics, he had been a farmer, growing wheat and barley. He could tell people all about crop yields, which type of combine was the most cost efficient, but he had no medical training, knew very little of disaster response, and unlike his American counterparts, had no military force like the National Guard he could call on for use in such disaster situations. He was forced to go cap in hand to the federal government, a fact which pissed him off to no end. If that Liberal bastard of a Prime Minister thought he was going to beg for assistance then he was sorely mistaken.
He had done all he could though. He had his top department heads in Alberta Health outline options, he ordered the one paramilitary force he controlled, the Alberta Sheriffs, to assist local police forces maintain quarantines. Finally, he poured extra funds into any department that appeared to be making a difference. Having spent nearly three billion dollars this week alone, it was obvious that there wouldn’t be any budget surplus this year.
The Minister for Infrastructure was about to begin his presentation when one of the Premier’s bodyguards, Darryl, interrupted him.
“Sir, we have to evacuate the building. At least one infected has breached the perimeter.”
Brad walked to the window and looked out into the parking lot in front of the building. Dozens of infected shambled along outside, pounding on windows and doors.
“But, but, but, the Bowker Building should be secure. It was built in the 1950s and is entirely concrete and steel,” he protested.
“Apparently some of the windows on the main floor weren’t shatter proof and at least one got in. Really, sir, we have to evacuate. If we hurry, we can all safely get back to the Legislature Parking Lot and get out of here,” Darryl replied.
The group of old men and women who comprised the Cabinet stumbled to their feet and shuffled out the door. Waiting outside the door were four sheriffs, all wearing tac vests and carrying pistols. Two of them took the lead and led the group to the elevators just outside the reception area. The elevator doors opened and one sheriff and half a dozen members got in.
“See you downstairs, Larry”, one of the other sheriffs said.
“Watch your back, Greg,” the man in the elevator replied.
The doors closed and the other elevator appeared shortly afterwards. Another sheriff got half a dozen Cabinet members inside the elevator and departed, too. Darryl walked over to the reception desk and picked up the phone and dialed the front desk. There was no answer. He dialed again. Still no answer. Darryl glanced over at John, the Premier’s other bodyguard and shook his head, to which John nodded knowingly.
Brad, his two bodyguards, Greg, and the last sheriff, Terry, as well as the last nine members of the Cabinet waited nervously for the elevators to return. The first did and Terry and the remaining Cabinet members got in and disappeared down into the bowels of the building.
Once the doors were closed, Darryl said, “Okay, sir, let’s take the stairs.”
“Why not wait for an elevator to return?” Brad asked.
“We could, but I don’t know how much time we have. The main desk downstairs isn’t answering. There were two sheriffs down there…” Darryl paused. “If we take the stairs, we can get right into the pedway and take the tunnel right to the parkade.”
Greg opened the door to the stairwell and peeked. “Looks clear.”
Just then the elevator door opened, and an infected person stumbled out, reaching hungrily for John. John swung his baton and hit the infected on top of the head, knocking it to the ground. John dodged the infected’s reach and moved away. They all raced for the stairs, with Darryl leading the way.
They hustled down the stairs, but not nearly as quickly as Darryl or John would have liked. The premier, older and in terrible physical shape, simply couldn’t keep up to the other three much younger, fitter men. Occasionally they would pause and listen for signs of pursuit, or if the infected were coming from below. Each time, all Charchuk could hear was his heart, pounding in his chest like a jackhammer.
When I get back home to Barrhead, I promise I’ll spend more time on the treadmill, he thought to himself.
They
reached the basement in a few minutes and only the premier was out of breath. John cautiously opened the door and peered out into the hallway. He nodded and moved out first. Darryl and the premier followed with Greg taking up the rear. Out in the hallway, they could hear feet shuffling on the floor above them and realized the infected were inside in large numbers. They advanced slowly and cautiously, trying desperately to make no sound that might give them away. Every time they walked past a heating duct or vent, the stench of rotting flesh and muffled moans drifted down from upstairs.
They were mere steps from the entrance to the tunnels that would take them back to the parkade and then safety, when the lights went off and the building plunged into darkness. A pair of emergency lights snapped on, dimly illuminating the hallway in a yellow glow. The corners of the room though were still sheathed in pitch black. Neither John nor Darryl had a flashlight, but Greg mumbled, “Wait a minute,” and unclipped a flashlight from his belt. He clicked it on but nothing happened.
“Damn batteries!” he cursed.
John pushed open the door to the tunnel and was momentarily blinded by sunlight pouring in from the bay windows from near the gift shop.
“Okay, let’s go,” he said and moved out into the brightness.
Darryl followed, dragging the premier, with Greg still watching their backs. John was fifteen metres ahead of them and they hurried to where he was, moving quickly and quietly. Suddenly, John’s hand raised up in a fist. Darryl jolted to a sudden stop. He left the premier with the young sheriff and moved the last few metres to John.
“Take a look around the corner, real carefully,” John said.
Darryl followed his instructions and peeked around the corner. The bodies of several Cabinet members were lying on the ground with a dozen or so infected kneeling around them, feeding.
“Well, that way is out,” Darryl whispered. “We’ll have to take that back tunnel to the Federal Building. It pops out by the sheriff’s office on the other side of the gift shop. Then it’s down the ramp, follow the south tunnel and into the parkade. Then we’re home free.”
“But the lights are out and there’s no natural light that way. You won’t be able to see your hand in front of your face, never mind an infected,” John replied.
“We don’t have a choice, we have to get to the car or we’re all finished.”
They slithered back to where Greg and the premier waited, now kneeling behind a large potted tree.
“We have to go that way," Darryl said, pointing to the pitch-black hallway.
“Well, that sucks”, the sheriff muttered, holding up his flashlight. “What a day for the batteries in this thing to die out.”
As they got up, the door to the Bowker Building opened and the other sheriff, Larry, and two more Cabinet ministers ran out the door.
“Get moving; they’re right behind us!” Larry yelled.
John and Darryl ran back to the corner and opened fire on the infected feasting on the dead Cabinet ministers. Several had already begun moving towards them, when they opened fire. Darryl and John fired until their guns ran dry. When they were done, all the infected were down and not moving.
“Gentlemen, it’s going to be a race to get to the cars, so I suggest you hurry. Larry and Greg, run to the sheriff’s office and see if there is more ammo and maybe some working flashlights. We’ll meet you at the ramp by the fountain in one minute,” Darryl said. “If you’re not there in time, we’ll leave you behind. Got it?”
“Got it!” they echoed.
Just then the doors to the Bowker Building opened again and dozens of infected streamed out. The two groups raced off. John and Darryl reloaded as they ran and got to the stairs, hiding behind a planter filled with sub-tropical plants, with the older men a dozen steps behind them. Sunlight poured in from a skylight and illuminated the area. Greg glanced out the windows and saw that the Legislative Grounds were filled with dozens more infected. When the old men had finally caught up to them, they raced down the stairs. John tossed a table onto its side and shoved all three of them behind it.
“Stay,” he ordered tersely.
Larry and Greg followed Darryl’s orders and raced into the office. Greg ran into the back room and fired his pistol twice into a locked cabinet. The lock shattered and he ripped it open, pulling out a pair of pump action shotguns. He loaded shells into each and stuffed more in his vest pockets. He stuffed several pistol magazines in as well and scrambled back out to the front office where Larry was tearing a desk apart looking for batteries.
“I can’t find any!” Larry hollered.
“Fuck the batteries, let’s get going!” Greg yelled, grabbing a jacket off a nearby chair and throwing it on.
Greg tossed a shotgun to Larry and jammed the half empty box of shells into his hands. Then he tore out the door without another word. Larry pulled one last drawer open and yelled, “Jackpot!” He stuffed a couple packs of batteries into his oversized pockets and followed Greg out the door, tossing on a heavy jacket as well. A second later, Larry heard a shotgun blast. As he ran out into the hallway, he saw Greg standing there, firing his shotgun into a huge group of infected, blood and flesh exploding from the lifeless victims.
“This way,” Larry shouted and raced for the ramp that spiraled down to the lower level. Greg followed, and they took turns, running and firing, covering each other’s back whenever possible. They made it to the bottom of the ramp and saw John and Darryl firing into a group of infected, coming down the stairs that were located at the south edge of the ramp. The Premier and Cabinet ministers huddled in abject fear only a few feet away.
The infected from the Bowker Building were coming down the ramp and Larry turned to fire at them. In the narrow confines of the ramp, every shot finished off several infected, but their numbers suddenly seemed limitless. Dozens, if not hundreds, poured down the ramp from the ground floor.
Darryl’s pistol’s slide jacked back as the magazine emptied. “Did you find us any ammo?” he screamed at Greg.
Greg tossed over all four of the magazines he had found. Darryl shoved one in and resumed firing. Suddenly the way was clear.
“Let’s go!” Darryl hollered.
He grabbed the premier and then both he and John raced down the tunnel towards the parking lot. The two Cabinet ministers followed in their steps, with the two young sheriffs firing into the ever expanding pack of infected. A door to the Legislative Annex on their left opened, and more infected flooded into the hallway as they ran past it.
“Sir, run for the end of the hallway!” John yelled. Charchuk and two Cabinet ministers continued down the darkened tunnel.
John and Darryl stopped and fired point blank into the infected.
“Last magazine, make ’em count!” Darryl said over the gunfire to John, as he passed him a magazine. John nodded.
“Greg, Larry, come on!” Darryl shouted, as the sheriffs were on the verge of being cut off by the host of infected flowing from the Annex. They ran backwards and stood shoulder to shoulder with Darryl and John. Natural light from three periscopes flooded the hallway with an eerie light, adding to the emergency lights mounted high on the walls.
John and Darryl fired again and again until both were out of ammunition. Darryl’s gun clicked on an empty chamber. He glanced around, looking for something, anything to hold off the infected. He ran to several nearby display cases, marked ‘Alberta Legislature’, which had a display about the provincial government. One cabinet was stuffed with replicas of both the Legislature’s mace and several medieval-era battle maces, and he smashed the glass with butt of his pistol. He jammed the pistol back into its holster and reached into the case, pulling out a pair of wicked looking maces and leaving the gaudy, gold-painted Legislative replica behind.
He ran back to John and gave him one, then attacked the infected reaching for him with an over-handed swing. The mace came down and crushed the infected teenager’s skull, sending blood and brain matter in every direction. John emulated him and they cut a
bloody swath through the infected. The young sheriffs, also out of ammunition, were now using the butt end of their shotguns like clubs to fend off the infected.
They fell back slowly, responding to any attempt by the infected to get around them. Bit by bit, they were moving closer and closer to the parkade.
“Sir, open the door and get behind it!” Darryl yelled over his shoulder.
“I lost my pass somewhere!” Premier Charchuk shouted back.
The minister behind him pulled his pass out of his suit jacket’s inner pocket. “Here, use mine.”
Charchuk stood up and buzzed open the security door. He held it open and yelled, “Let’s go, Darryl!”
Darryl looked back and shouted, “Let’s go.” All four men turned and ran for the door. They all easily made it through the door, which Greg pulled shut.
The Premier turned to his right to go back to his office in the Legislature Building, and Darryl said, “Sir, we’ve got to go now.”
“But I…”
“Based on how many were in the park outside, the Legislature is probably overrun.” Darryl paused, and then said, “If you want to live, we don’t have a choice.”
They turned and ran to the doors to the south parkade, where all of their vehicles were. With only emergency lighting on, it made for some harrowing moments, but the infected hadn’t made it this far yet and they made it safe and sound to their vehicles.
“Get into your car and follow us out,” Darryl told Larry and Greg.
Darryl got the Premier and his two surviving Cabinet members into the back seat of the Suburban and then got into the driver’s seat. John was already in the passenger seat, reloading his pistol with ammunition from a safe under the seat. Darryl stuffed his pistol in his shoulder holster and stuck out his hand – John gave him his pistol and Darryl started loading it as John started the big SUV. It roared to life and he took them out of the parkade. The wooden gate was slow to lift, so he rammed it with the giant bumper on the SUV, splintering it into dozens of pieces.
Zombie Night in Canada (Book 1): First Period Page 9
