by Locke, Linus
Through the vents, he could see that each one of his injured coworkers was moving around, attacking other researchers. Lawrence was unable to override the security for the elevator, yet he was able to open the security door that led to the stairwell. Blood covered the walls in the hallway. He came to the realization that this was indeed a bad thing. Lawrence could ultimately lead them out of the building.
Taking a few minutes to gather his thoughts, he came to the conclusion that they must have created a virus. Each person that was attacked in most cases should have died, yet they managed to survive only to become an attacker themselves.
“The formula survives independently and replicates itself as it is spread to a new host,” he said to himself quietly. “That does not explain why they are so violent though. There must be a way to stop this.”
Brian managed to wiggle the vent cover loose and pulled it through the opening. There was no movement on the floor. He lowered himself down and dropped the remaining two feet to the ground. Quickly glancing around to make sure there was no one left that needed his help or that there was no one who would try to tear him apart.
He made his way back to the lab they were working in. The floor was slick with blood. The only body that remained was that of Greg. Brian knelt down beside his friend. The bullet holes in his chest pooled with fresh blood.
Brian grabbed some of the research folders and stuffed them in his briefcase. Most of the notes were kept on his personal netbook even though this was against company policy. He picked this up along with the scalpel he had dropped and made his way to the security office.
Plugging his netbook into the surveillance system using the USB port he began to transfer the security footage from the past hour to his computer. From what he could make out, Lawrence and another man were the only ones left, and they had made their way to the first floor. Lawrence was working on the panel.
In a panic Brian pressed the button for the intercom system. “Lawrence you have to stop right now while we have this contained to the building.” His voice boomed over the intercom. Lawrence did not slow his progress.
“Damn it!” Brian slammed the microphone down on the table. He only broadcast to the fifth floor. “Surely there is a way to contact the other floors from here.” He looked at the intercom box hoping for some sort of switch. There wasn’t one. He picked up the phone and dialed the number for the front desk. Although he couldn’t hear it over the surveillance it caused Lawrence to turn.
Brian did not want to see any more death today, but if distracting this man long enough for him to be killed could keep this contamination from spreading than he could deal with that. He watched as Lawrence returned to his work. The other man with him shouted continuously with fear on his face.
A security officer from one of the lower floors reached the man. Brian was glad there was no sound through the video. The officer ripped at the man’s face and punched at his chest. A morbid relief washed over Brian as he saw the two others come onto the screen and reach out for Lawrence. This threat would be contained. Although his heart sunk at the loss of his friends, a smile appeared subtly on his lips. As the first of the attackers dug into Lawrence’s back, however, the door to the main lobby swung open and sunlight cast a glare on the rest of the gruesome scene.
The smile disappeared as his face contorted in terror. He let out a defeated scream and slammed his already bloody fist into the wall beside him. The last of the surveillance video was uploaded to his netbook. He disconnected it and reached for the phone. His last chance would be to call the police and hope they could contain this before it spread too far.
Placing the phone to his ear he pressed the buttons on the keypad. On the second ring a woman picked up and spoke in a calm and soothing voice. ”Nine-One-One, what is the nature of your emergency?”
Sam came into view from out of nowhere causing Brian to drop the phone and hurdle the desk before he could be grabbed. “Can you understand me, Samuel?” Brian stretched his arm out in a defensive position.
“I believe I can help you, Sam. Would you like me to help you?”
The boy looked as though he had not understood any of what Brian was saying. Sam picked himself up onto the desk. Brian took two steps backwards. Fresh blood dripped off of Sam’s naked body and smeared over the papers on the desk.
“We were only trying to hel—” Brian was cut off as he was grabbed by the ankle. He kicked out and jumped back. Tim was crawling across the floor. The damage to his abdomen must have disabled his legs. The next attack came from Sam, who moved toward Brian with outstretched hands.
Brian ran down the hallway and turned into another one of the labs. He looked back as he entered to see that his pursuers were not so quick. Sam was about ten yards back while Tim was pulling himself along much further behind. He knew he couldn’t underestimate them, however. There may be more close by, and as soon as he was outnumbered he would not stand a chance.
His thoughts came to the ventilation system. It most certainly leads to the roof, and from there he could make his way down. Sam entered the room. Brian chose to lead him around the outside of the room until he had a clear shot of the door. There was a cart up against the wall he could use to reach the vent opening in the hallway he had come down from.
Once Sam was far enough out of the way Brian ran to the cart and pushed it through the door. About a foot into the hall, the cart hit something and came to a stop, sending Brian soaring over to land hard on his back. He sat up in pain, the wind knocked out of him. With a slow glance, he saw that the object that stopped him was the crawling security guard, Tim. It looked as if the impact had shattered the poor man’s skull and broke his neck.
Tim’s body finally lay lifeless as it should have a while ago. Brian pulled himself to his feet and grabbed the cart, continuing his move to the ventilation system. As he stopped the cart under the vent he ran to the security station and grabbed his netbook, stuffing it into his briefcase. Sam was making his way down the hall as Brian lifted his body up. He kicked the cart over and hoisted himself into the vent.
Although he knew he had to hurry, he lay there on his back and rested. Although his lungs ached, he took just a moment to catch his breath before proceeding through the vent. It was just a few minutes of crawling through the tin tunnel before he could hear the humming sound of what he assumed would be the exhaust fan. He came upon another intersection in the vents. Directly above him the fan spun powerfully. Sunlight spilled in as Brian could see that he was only inches away from the roof.
Removing his lab coat, Brian jammed it up into the fan blades. The motor clunked, popped, and grinded as it came to an abrupt stop. Brian grabbed the scalpel and removed the plastic guard over the blade. He used this to remove the screws holding the fan in place as well. As the fan came loose he pushed it out onto the roof and climbed out into the sunlight.
The sun’s powerful rays warmed the skin on his face. He felt victorious, as if he had just conquered Mount Everest; however, he knew he had suffered a defeat in the lab that could change the world forever. That wouldn’t stop him from enjoying just a minutes worth of the amazing view of the world. The clear sky allowed him to see for miles.
Snapped back to reality by the sight of his coworkers making their way into the hills surrounding the building, Brian began to search for a way down. The maintenance ladder was locked under a cage for security purposes, but he would have to make it work.
His decent was torturous. His fingers barely fit into the small holes in the cage. Most of the way down he was supported by only his pinky fingers. When he finally made it down his fingertips were bruised and bleeding. He pulled his car keys from his briefcase, climbed into his BMW, and reached for the first aid kit he kept under the passenger seat.
After cleaning himself up and applying several bandages to his wounds he grabbed for his iPhone. Phones were not allowed inside the building, so he left his in the center console. This time he called the number for the local police department whic
h was saved in his contacts.
“Clay Hills police department,” the man said in a half statement half question as he answered the phone.
“Hello my name is Brian Sawyer. I work for the BCRC laboratory about eight miles outside of town. I would like to report an emergency.”
“Sure, what is your badge number, sir?”
“I do not have one. I am not a security officer. I am a researcher. There has been a major catastrophe. We were—”
“I’m sorry but I need a security officer to contact us for emergencies, sir,” the man interrupted him, yet he maintained a polite demeanor.
“The security officers are dead!” Brian exclaimed in frustration. “Most of, if not all of the other employees here are dead as well.”
“Can you hold for just a moment, sir?” The man didn’t wait for an answer to that question. The tone of his voice was that of urgency. He returned to the line a moment later. “Sir, we are unable to get a response from the security personnel there.”
“No shit you did not get a response. What did I just tell you?”
“Sir, I understand your frustration, and because we didn’t receive an answer we are sending a squad car to that location.”
“You are going to need more than one. Can you send more?” Brian asked. The frustration was still evident in his voice.
“I’m sorry, we will send a car out and wait for the report. If other units are needed they will be immediately dispatched to the location.”
“The location is going to be much bigger than that building. A contamination leak has infected numerous researchers. Now these researchers are killing each other. The area needs to be contained immediately.”
“Again I’m sorry, but this is the best I can do until I hear from a badge. If there is a contamination problem than a HAZMAT team will be dispatched.”
“Just make it fast, or this problem will be far too large to contain,” Brian said as he hung up the phone and threw it down on the passenger seat.
The containment took too long, and the contamination spread exponentially in every direction. Early reports were dismissed as a hoax. Over the next few weeks prophecies were uncovered that showed Nostradamus predicted this event in the mid fifteen-hundreds. Churches responded by saying it was God’s doing, and He was purging the world of sin. Plans, purging, and prophecies held nothing to the arrogance of man.
Chapter 4
Rays of sunlight shined through the cracks in between the two-by-fours used to board up the windows of the Channel Thirteen News building. The stairwell leading down was blocked off using filing cabinets, desks, couches, and chairs. Floors two, three, and four have all been cleared by the small group of survivors. The waves of undead came through the windows and doors like hungry wolves on the scent of an injured deer, pushing the lucky ones up the stairs while the rest were torn apart.
Reports had flooded in from all over town, but none of the news team knew what to think. It seemed to be some sort of hoax at first. People killing each other only to have their dead victims rise up and kill seemed a bit farfetched. By the time trusted sources confirmed these events, it was too late.
Bradley Andrews was one of the lucky ones, or at the very least, he was a survivor. Six people survived the attack on the news building that day. The small group managed to hold the attackers at the stairs while they built a blockade with whatever furniture could be found. Many of the people that lost their lives that day were good friends, and Bradley made it a goal to remember each and every one of them. They would never receive a proper burial. Remembering them was the best he had to give.
Frank and his wife Lisa survived the initial attack as well. Because of their actions, the barricade was completed. They were a middle aged couple who were run out of their home, but not before they could each grab a shotgun and enough shells to keep the rushing horde of undead at the stairs. It’s unclear why they chose the news building, but Bradley believed none of them would have survived without them. In the matter of only a few hours, a bite Lisa received turned into an uncontrollable infection. She turned and killed two other survivors before Frank shot her.
Sara was a ten year old girl who came to work with her mother that day because she wasn’t feeling well. She was bitten by Lisa after she turned on the group. Four hours was all the longer she could hold on before she too turned into one of the undead and attacked the group. No one was hurt this time. Frank took it upon himself once again to deal with the infected. Grief caused him to take his own life the following day.
Emalynn Austin was 16 at the time of the attack, below average height with shoulder length brown hair. Her dark brown eyes always glistened in the light as if they were wet marbles. She was visiting her father, Jared, for lunch. Jared hid Emalynn in a closet on the third floor and rushed into the attackers when they came into the building. His actions helped save the lives of the other survivors also, and for that, Bradley swore to remember his sacrifice.
Jared’s death was the most brutal thing Bradley had seen in his career as a news reporter. Jared held his ground as several of the enraged attackers pounded their fists into him. Fingernails dug deep into his flesh, tearing it away in strips. The man may not have been strong, but he would fight with everything he had to protect his daughter.
The sound of bones breaking could be heard over every other sound made in those few moments. Jared’s arms and legs were bent until the bones snapped. His head was twisted back and forth. Punches landed to his body and face. Blood was spit from his mouth in sickening gurgles. When his skull finally collapsed, his attackers dropped his lifeless body and moved toward their next victim.
Safely locked away in his office, Roger hid through the whole thing. From the moment they first started to cover the riots he was cowering under his desk. He knew nothing of the news, sports, or weather, yet his business degree said he was capable of running a TV station. For the most part he did a fine enough job, and he was a nice enough guy who was always in good spirits.
Roger was obviously well fed before the attack, standing about five-foot ten-inches tall and almost three-hundred and twenty-five pounds. How he managed not to starve to death over the past year perplexed Bradley. His black hair was kept short enough for the bald spot in the back to really stand out. The bushy eyebrows that resembled fuzzy black caterpillars rested above his dark brown eyes.
Roger had a wife who was almost as heavy as him. Together they had three children. The oldest was their only son. He was nine. Their two daughters were seven and three. Roger never once mentioned them after the attack. Almost as if he cut them off as a loss and moved on.
There was a makeshift ladder that allowed Bradley to sneak out and scavenge for whatever food and water he could find. After the first couple of months living like this, he found himself relieved that only the three of them survived. Of course he was sad for the lives lost, but when the big hauls became scarce he feared it would have provoked violence amongst the members of the group. Roger caused enough problems as it was. Most of his day was spent complaining of being hungry. Many times Bradley thought of throwing him out a window and feeding him to the undead.
After the attack, he tried numerous times to broadcast a message, yet the power was unreliable. Backup generators in the building only supplied enough power to run the lights, the security system, and a few other parts of the building. There were many attempts to procure the funding to upgrade the backup power systems to allow the station to broadcast during major power outages. However, the board of directors felt that was an unnecessary use of finances, as there was very rarely a large scale power outage in the area.
Bradley, Emalynn, and Roger managed to survive through the year living in the top three floors of the building. Food was becoming increasingly hard to come by, and Bradley felt that they would have to move along soon or starve to death. The gunshot they heard had given him hope, though. He wanted nothing more than for that to be a signal of some kind, but it was never followed up. There was no announcem
ent of a safe house or rescue, yet he kept watch in the direction the shot came from.
He found that he grew fond of Emalynn, but he couldn’t find it in him to confront her romantically even though he sensed the same feelings from her. Instead he kept close to her like a big brother safe-guarding his kid sister from the neighborhood boys. He knew they both deserved to find love, yet he wouldn’t feel right knowing that their love came from a lack of options or even as a survival mechanism. There was still life out there, he knew it. Finding Emalynn a safe home was his only priority now.
In the days following the gunshot, Bradley took watch out the windows of the fourth floor facing east toward the hills. He moved Emalynn up there with him to keep her close. Roger’s office was just down the hall. Roger spent all of his time in there, and could often be heard shouting and beating on the walls. He was only seen when Bradley came back with more food, but as that had happened less and less, Roger became very irritable.
As the sun started making its decent to the west, Bradley caught the sight of a small object flashing in the distance. It was much too small to tell for sure what it was, but he definitely saw it. The flash appeared to come from either the roof of a house or the hills behind it. Bradley wasn’t familiar with Morse code, yet this seemed too haphazard to be any kind of distinctive pattern. It wasn’t there before, and as soon as it had stopped he knew it was definitely a human.
Chapter 5
Jonathan sat on his roof once more watching the dead roam the streets. His gunshot must have stirred them up, as he noticed that over the past couple of days they had been settling back down. They no longer roamed the town with such vigor, yet they surely did not disappear he knew.
