When the gunshot rang out, Neil though he had died, it was so loud, magnified by the stainless steel surroundings. Dr. Jennings’s head exploded with a meaty pop, like a water-balloon. A mist of blood, brain and skull filled the air and added to the already heady aroma of gore. An eyeball landed on the floor besides Neil and stared at him, the hatred still beaming through its unseeing pupil.
Neil looked around for his rifle, which he had dropped when he fell. Grabbing it, he turned as Dr. Walter George limped toward him. The doctor was in pain, his right ear was missing, and it looked as if someone had taken a bite out of his neck. When he brought his hand away from the wound, blood spurted in thick jets. Neil saw he had also lost the first three fingers of his right hand.
“Dr. George…what the fuck is going on?” Neil asked, sweeping his eyes around the lab. There was nobody else left alive.
“Move! You need to leave, now, and lock the door behind you,” the scientist whispered his voice hoarse.
“No, don’t be stupid. You need help…your hur…” Neil began, but stopped when he saw a change come over the doctor’s face. It was a fleeting glimpse, but it looked as though a flash of anger so intense took hold of him, that it made his soul scream.
“This was a test. We knew what we were doing. You need to leave now. Everything is chronicled for the following team. They know what they must do.” The scientist inched his way closer to Neil, and when he reached out for him, the strength in his grip did not match his weakened condition.
“I don’t understand… you did this to yourself?” Neil’s head spun, and he felt giddy from the death fumes that surrounded him.
“You don’t want to. Now go! I cannot be allowed to leave this place.” With a shove, the lead scientist of the base forced Neil out of the door. He entered a code on the keypad and locked the door from the inside. The last thing Neil heard as he was taken through the two cleansing chambers that removed all traces of whatever it was they were working on from his body, was a gunshot. The next time he saw the lab it had been cleaned up and the incident was never spoken of. Two weeks later, the announcement was made that Dr. George had retired, and his team had transferred to another facility to start working on a new project.
Neil never spoke a word about what he saw. That just wasn’t how things worked in the military.
* * *
Three Years Later…
Neil stood in the open field that bordered the farm, smoking his third morning cigarette. He knew he should stop, or at least try to cut down. Ever since his encounter with Dr. George and his team, smoking was the only thing left in Neil’s life that made him feel. He had slowly become numb to the world, to himself. It was not that he was depressed – far from it. He could laugh, cry, perform all of his normal duties, and mean the emotions he displayed. He just didn’t feel them anymore.
Dragging the cigarette until the flame lit the filter, Neil released the smoke with a sigh. He flicked the butt to the floor where it fizzed in the thick layer of frost that had settled during the midnight hours.
Turning, he headed back into the abandoned barn, whereupon he lifted up a false crate and exposed the staircase that would lead him back to the labyrinth. That was what he had christened his place of employment. He found it apt, given the meandering corridors and the numerous laboratories that branched off each passageway. The living quarters were just as complicated to access, with keycard operated doors every few hundred meters, and an iris scanner at the final entrance to each lab and living zone. After eleven years in the same location, Neil had forgotten everything else. This was his world, and he loved it.
The facility was a buzz as Neil reached the center. The scientists had been preparing for something. He didn’t ask…not anymore. He knew that they worked with diseases and various other aggressive biological agents, but the details were of no interest to him.
“Hey! Hey, Neil, can you give me a hand with this?” a young scientist called out. He had been at the compound since the day he left university, which was coincidentally the same day Neil had joined. The two had become close; not quite friends. The unspoken knowledge of what went on within the labs stopped them from become anything more than acquaintances.
“Sure. What is it?” Neil turned before he got the answer.
“Just a couple of crates. They need to go to the surface. I can do it, but it would be easier with two of us to lift.” Charlie Clogger gave a smile and his thick glasses slipped down his nose. They were poorly adjusted, so Neil assumed, because they never appeared to remain in place for more than a few moments.
“What the crap do you have in here? It weighs a ton,” Neil huffed as he struggled to adjust his grip on the crates. They didn’t look strong enough to hold anything that heavy.
“Come on, Neil, you know that I can’t tell you something like that. Not yet at least.”
The answer was not the one Neil had been expecting. He knew the protocol directed people toward non-disclosure, but something so simple as a couple of crates being taken to the surface…normally it meant throwing away old equipment.
“Fine, man, fine. I’m not going to push.” Neil further adjusted his grip and they resumed their ascent. Charlie was right. They had a trolley that allowed them to climb the stairs with a heavy load, but it was awkward and cumbersome. The old fashioned approach was always the best. “Why is this junk not going through the services elevator?” Neil asked, unable to stop himself.
“Because it isn’t junk. It’s a test.” The word echoed in Neil’s head. He froze and almost dropped his end. In that instant he saw his (almost) friend’s face change from a healthy natural color to bleached in an instant.
“Watch out! Jesus Christ! If you drop that stuff in here…we are all fucked.” Charlie tried his best to control his anger. “Sorry, I mean… just… be careful,” he stuttered.
Once on the surface again, they carried the crates out of the barn and placed them on the ground. None of it felt right to Neil. The crates were being left out in the open, but not in the regular pick up location.
He had a bad feeling about everything. It tickled the back of his neck and made his body shudder.
“Thanks, man. I’ve got it from here. I think you are needed by the main lab,” Charlie called, his voice nervous. He was clearly lying.
Neil turned to leave, but walked only a few steps before he ducked into the barn. He turned to his right and hid in the shadows. Neil peered through a crack in the warped wooden side, and waited.
A chill ran through him as he saw Charlie open both crates and crouch down onto his haunches. He reached into the box and pulled out a large canister. Setting it on the ground, he worked hurriedly to unscrew the cap. Neil wanted to call out, but he knew that whatever it was, it could not be stopped anymore. He had a flashback to Dr. George and his team: The blood, the body parts strewn about the place, and then the cover-up… retirement. The memories returned in a flood.
With trembling hands, Charlie reached inside the canister. It looked as though he were unscrewing a secondary cap. Vapor rose from the container while Charlie’s hand was still inside. He jerked backward, screaming as he did.
Neil reacted without thinking and ran over to his friend. The steam continued to escape the canister.
“Charlie, get back,” Neil called, unsure as to how the canister would react.
“Neil...what are you…get away from me. Stop, it’s too dangerous!” Charlie screamed; the force of his words enough to stop Neil dead in his tracks.
“What do you mean?” Neil asked, holding his breath as soon as he had finished talking. Images of three years ago played in his mind like a flashback sequence in a bad movie.
Charlie didn’t answer. He had turned his back and was once again kneeling over the canister. His hand disappeared inside the vapor cloud. It appeared to be translucent, but Neil couldn’t see Charlie’s arm through it. It was as though the light was refracted around any object that it came into contact with. After a few moments, the vapor disap
peared and Charlie withdrew his hand. He collapsed to the floor.
Neil made to move toward him, but his friend shouted, in a much weakened voice, that he needed to stay away. Charlie rose into a seated position. This simple movement seemed to take all of his concentration and effort. His face was pasty; his eyes red and weeping. He looked sick. “Stay back man, get inside,” Charlie insisted, his voice growing weaker by the second.
“Call Dr. Templeman. Tell him there is a problem… a leak. Too much escaped. Go, get inside, now!” Charlie’s strength was failing him.
Neil was caught; trapped between a feeling of moral obligation to help Charlie, and to listen to him; to get inside and raise the alarm. While he dithered, Charlie pulled out his revolver and raised it to his head with a trembling hand. He fired one shot, but his strength failed at the last second. His hand fell and the bullet ripped through his throat. It entered just above his shoulder and blew a gaping hole on the other side. Blood sprayed from the wound and with a rush of air, Charlie died.
Neil turned and ran into the barn, bounding down the steps at a speed that hovered on the edge of his control. Twice he felt his balance leave him. His legs were moving too fast. He caught himself at the last moment on the hand rail, yet refused to let his pace slow. He needed to report what had happened. He needed to speak with Dr. Templeman. He needed answers.
The alarm was raised and Neil was pulled into the laboratory where his blood was taken for tests; not in small quantities either. He was left feeling dizzy and drained. He fell asleep and woke in one of the sleeping quarters. The room was not even his own. All possessions had been removed, leaving him with bare walls and a bare bed. A woolen blanket lay folded in the center of the mattress and a chamber pot had been thrown into the far corner of the room. He was fed at irregular intervals, and all of his demands for answer were met with the same response. “Dr. Templeman will be with you the moment your test results are confirmed.”
After four days, nobody had been to see him. While there was no window, or way to tell the time, for his watch had been taken along with his recently issued revolver, Neil was certain that he’d had no food for at least twenty-four hours.
Neil lay back down, and felt his consciousness begin to fade in and out. He didn’t know how long he was unconscious for, but when he woke up again his body was stiff from the strange position in which he landed on the bed. There was no sign of any meal having been delivered, and the hallways had fallen oddly silent. The lights had gone out in the hallway. Only a small naked bulb in his room still glowed, and even that seemed to have lost some of its power.
“Hello?” Neil called. The only answer he received was his own echo, and what he believed to be the faint sound of gunfire.
Panic began to set in. Neil understood where they were; how deeply under the ground they were buried. Something had happened, and he had been part of it…a witness. Neil felt his heart begin to race. He had been working in the Labyrinth for eleven years. His own sleeping quarters were not much larger than this room, but suddenly the walls felt much closer, as though they were creeping ever closer to him.
His self-control began to wane. He jumped as a burst of gunfire echoed through the corridor to his room. The burst was quick, and no further sounds followed it, but Neil didn’t care. He pounded on the door and called out until his throat was hoarse.
From the other side of the door, a strange, deep growling sound called out. Neil stood with a sudden a renewed strength, and called out again and again. The growling grew closer, and before long, the hammering on the other side overpowered Neil’s own clubbed blows. Confused, he stepped away from the door as it began to rattle and then splinter in its frame from the force of the blows. The growls had increased until they were as ferocious as a wild animal. Alarm bells buzzed inside his head as the sound of the cries echoed in the bare room. Neil had heard growling of a similar ferocity once before, when he had been attacked by Dr. Jennings. Shrinking backward, Neil instinctively began to search for something he could use to protect himself. The only thing in the room was the bed. Within a few moments, Neil had wrenched one of the metal legs from the low cost frame, and wielded it like a baseball bat. There was nothing to do but wait.
It didn’t take long.
The first creature that burst through the door, created a hole with its fist, but was driven wild by the aroma of fresh meat, so abandoned its approach and instead forced its head through the gap. Jagged splinters dug into the creatures flesh and ripped deep gouges in the man’s face. It didn’t seem to realize. Even when the blood that ran from the wounds blinded it, it continued to snarl and snap its jaws like some primitive beast. Neil thought he recognized the man… he was sure of it. There were not that many people working beneath the surface. During his eleven years of service, he had certainly met and built up a basic relationship with people. Yet there was something different about the face, – other than the bleeding lacerations – that made it unrecognizable. Inhuman was the word the came to Neil’s mind as he watched the man struggle against the door which held him prisoner.
Neil had no idea what had happened, but he was certain that it had something to do with the canister Charlie had opened. Charlie. It was the first time he had thought about him since it had all happened. While Neil lost himself in dangerous reminiscence, the zombie in the door continued to force his way through, splitting the wood further and further. There were clearly others that stood behind the door, but the over-exuberance of the first creature had blocked the passage for the rest.
It bought Neil some time. He knew what he had to do, and his grip on the metal bed leg tightened until a cramp burned in his forearm. Before Neil could take a swing however, the zombie stopped its struggles. Its eyes widened and then a split-second later its head exploded, bursting like a water balloon. The stench which emanated from the hollowed out skull was enough to make Neil gag.
Three more shots rang out, and Neil once again found himself bordering on Panic. Was this gunman his rescuer or his executioner?
Time froze and Neil held his breath. He waited, his body trembling with anticipation. The growls had gone. They were all dead. Of that he was certain. The body had disappeared; pulled free from the door. The door rattled in the frame once more, but this time the handle also jiggled up and down.
“Hello, is anybody in there?” a scratched and broken voice whispered. It was barely audible.
Neil held his tongue, caught in a quandary. He needed to get out of the room, and to do that he needed help…friend or foe.
“Hello,” the voice called again. It was only when he heard the footsteps begin to shuffle down the corridor that Neil responded.
“I’m trapped. Please, tell me what is going on?” Neil was shocked at how meek his words sounded.
“Neil… Neil, is that you?” the voice called back, a change in the tone revealing the owner.
“Jack! Jesus Christ, man! What is going on? Help get me out of here,” Neil called out to Jack Porterfield. He was the lead scientist at the compound. He and Neil had often spent time together talking about various daily activities around the complex. Betting on anything from who will sneeze first during the flu season to what the weather was going to be like on a given date. The wager was usually cigarettes, but on rare occasions, they would up the stakes and use shifts. One year, a particularly late end of winter had cost Neil two double shifts; anything to pass the boring off-duty hours.
The door rattled and then, following a solid kick from the other side, flew open, breaking from the hinges, it fell into the room. “Neil… they told me you were dead.” Jack ran up to him and embraced him in a strong hug; a gesture that had never been part of their previous greetings.
“Jack, what happened? Who told you that? What was wrong with that man…? I mean...I saw Charlie and…it was just like a few years ago…” Neil started to speak and everything came out in a nonsensical rush. Oddly enough, Jack seemed to understand every word.
“Man, the whole world has gone t
o shit. Did you see what happened to Charlie? We can’t stay here. We need to move. More of them will be coming. The gunshots only attract them.” Jack started walking out of the room before he had finished speaking, his initial question also seemingly forgotten.
In the hallway, everything was pitch black. Only the emergency lighting shone in the main branches, and even those were low wattage bulbs spaced at intervals that left long stretches of darkness to be navigated.
“Be careful. Those fuckers can be everywhere. Don’t let them bite you.” Jack spoke as he walked. He never looked back, but had swung the rifle over his shoulder. Instead, he held a large hunting knife. It was the standard issue given to guards. Neil knew it wasn’t the right time to ask how he acquired it, but understood that it signified something bad.
“What are you talking about?” Neil asked, afraid to hear the answer, but at the same time he knew that he needed to know.
“Zombies! We started the zombie apocalypse, man. Now come on, we need to head back to the main lab.” Jack quickened his pace and Neil did likewise.
“Is that where everybody is, at the lab?” Neil asked, his breathing labored. His condition had deteriorated with a few days of no food or water.
“We are everybody, man,” Jack’s response was cold, and delivered just as they entered another patch of darkness.
“What do you mean? Where is everybody?” Neil pushed on, ignoring the pain that had started to dig into his side.
“Dead…or at least, they were dead…now they are walking around here, looking for us. They’re hungry and nothing will stop them besides a shot to the head.” Jack stopped walking for a moment and turned to look at the man who, while not yet given the official title, was as close to a friend as Neil had. “God help us… what have we done?” With nothing further to add, he turned around again and took off at an even brisker pace. Neil had to run to keep up with him.
By the time they reached the main laboratory, Neil was starkly aware of the fact that they were indeed alone. The presence of a pile of half-rotted corpses piled up in the hallway that brought them to the lab was evidence enough to know the state of their facility.
Diaries of the Damned Page 25
