Zombieclypse (Book 3): Dead End

by Rosaria, A.

  As the helicopter lifted up, the rotors swept the wind against her back. She struggled to walk in a line ahead. Every so often, Terry pushed her.

  “Come on, let me through,” Terry said to someone.

  A voice sputtered out of the speaker. “Welcome back, Captain Morgan.”

  A door lock unlatched. She was pushed inside. The door shut behind her and the hood over her head was yanked off.

  “Welcome to our little abode,” Terry said. “Make yourself at home.”

  It was a gray building, with undecorated gray walls. Lauryn stood in a large hall where a lot of soldiers walked around, eyeing her suspiciously as they went on with whatever they were doing. Terry pushed her forward. “Go to that door.”

  The room was a gathering area of sorts. Soldiers were gearing up to go out. To each side, a door led to another room, but she was pushed ahead to a large twin door.

  “Don’t think about doing anything. One wrong move and you’ll be filled with so many holes you won’t know through which one to piss.”

  Terry opened the door for her. It led to stairs going down. “Careful that you don’t slip. We still need you in one piece.”

  She hardly believed him. After all, he practically threw her out of the helicopter. She could have easily broken her neck. These people were only keeping her alive for convenience sake. Whatever they planned to do with her, they probably also could do it when she was dead. She wondered if maybe death wasn’t the better choice for her. People this brutal keeping you alive couldn’t be a good sign.

  They went down three stories to the bottom floor. Terry pressed an intercom and demanded to be let in. The door lock opened. Inside, two heavily armored soldiers saluted the captain and he pushed her into their arms.

  “Take her to the others and no need to be gentle. I’ll return shortly to tag her correctly.”

  The soldiers laughed. The captain dismissed them and went back out the door. Lauryn could hear his boots on the metal stairs going up. The soldiers grabbed her and led her to a cellblock. The air stunk of blood and vomit. They opened a large cage and led her inside.

  The soldier to her left said, “Don’t cause trouble and we won’t bother you.” His voice was gentle, not what she expected. The soldier had black hair and a surprisingly young face, her age almost. If things were different, they could have been in a class together and no one would notice the difference. She pushed the thought away. He was her jailer and nothing more.

  Lauryn yanked herself out the soldier’s grip and slammed her shoulder against the one to her right. A portlier man, her weight did little to him, but the surprise was great enough to make the soldiers freeze for the second she needed. Lauryn hauled to the exit. A hand grabbed her hair and yanked her back. She slammed against the cage. A fist slugged her in the belly. She doubled over. By her hair, she was yanked back up. She gasped in air and scratched the hand holding her, but the soldier held tight. It hurt a lot. The young soldier looked at her, his face a mask of anger.

  “You shouldn’t have done that, bitch,” he said, all his gentleness lost to his voice.

  He grabbed her and threw her inside the cage. As she hit the ground, the other prisoners scurried away from her.

  The soldier kicked her ribs. The other one joined him, kicking her. Each hit sent a jolt through her body. One hard kick in the belly sent her sliding over the floor. Lauryn retched and puked. The young soldier spat on her. Lauryn muffled a cry when the jail door clanked shut. The pain screamed all over her body when she crawled up, sitting. She felt her side, tender, yet no broken bones. Lauryn grunted as she got up on wobbly legs.

  The other prisoners kept huddled into corners away from her. Their wary eyes looked her up and down, each face more bruised and dirty than the other. She recognized a face. His eyes closed, his face swollen, lips puffed, but she was sure it was Phil. Lauryn stumbled toward him. A prisoner, an older woman sitting near Phil looked up at her and backed down. Sarah knelt down and touched his hand. Cold. His chest rose and Phil gurgled as his eyes opened on her. A weak smile appeared on his face, and as quickly as it appeared, it vanished again.

  “I’m sorry,” he groaned.

  Phil struggled to sit up, but Sarah put a hand on his chest, stopping him. “Don’t, you need to rest.”

  That wan smile appeared again. “Soon I’ll be resting all I want.”

  Feebly, his fingers sought her hand. “Lauryn, I’m sorry I told them about you.”

  Seeing his broken body, it had taken a lot for them to get him to talk. Lauryn couldn’t fault the man for that. They beat him within an inch of his life, and the way he looked at her with eyes lacking luster, his pale face, and his weak grip on her hand, there was not much life left in him. Lauryn squeezed his hand, he winced, and she quickly let go.

  “We were setting camp when they came from the sky with their damn helicopter.” Phil looked away, staring at the ceiling, his eyes moistened. They killed ten before they touched ground, five by the time they got to me. I saw Melissa escape with Emma.”

  Phil burst out coughing. He wiped blood from his lips and looked up at her, his eyes questioning.

  “We found them alive,” she lied.

  His face lost some of the tension. “Good. That’s good.” Phil sighed as he relaxed on the dirty floor. “I’m sorry I told them about you.”

  “What did they want to know?” she wondered. There was no one she had crossed, not alive anyway. Nothing particularly special about her for others to want her.

  Phil smiled again. Lauryn saw his bloodstained teeth and the blood bubbling on his tongue. He swallowed. “They were asking if I knew about someone who had the flu but didn’t turn. Ralph told us about you being ill with the flu.”

  Phil’s eyes grew worried and the stress returned to his face. He jerked up, sitting, spitting a swat of blood for his effort. He grabbed onto her with strength he didn’t have a moment ago. “Oh God, they got to you guys. Is Melissa and Emma all right?”

  All blood drained from his face, his hands felt cold against her skin, his eyes rolled back and he fell on the floor. Blood slipped out his mouth and nose. “Are they all right?” Phil groaned.

  “Yes, they only got me.”

  Phil exhaled, his face grew slack, only a hint of a smile left, and his eyes closed shut, not to open again. The prisoners around her pressed themselves against the bars, knowing what had happened. She stayed at his side, not wanting to believe he was dead.

  A hand on her shoulder pulled her away. It was the old woman. “Come with me, girl.”

  Lauryn let the old woman lead her away, too dazed to do anything anyway. The prison door opened with a squeak. Terry entered the prison hold. He looked around the room, pausing at each face, lingering longer on hers. He smirked and spat the ground.

  “My, my, my, what a mess you made out of this place.”

  Standing over Phil, he raised his boot. “Leaving it to me to clean up again, ungrateful bastards.”

  He stomped hard down, crushing Phil’s head with his boot. Did it again, cracking the skull open, brain pouring out. Again and again. Terry flattened the skull, sending bone fragments, blood, and brain tissue flying. He signaled the guard standing at the prison door. Pale faced, the guard grabbed Phil by the ankles and dragged the body out of the cell.

  “Try to keep things clean in here,” Terry said as he left.

  Lauryn shook all over. She couldn’t hold it in anymore and dropped to the floor. How could it all turn out like this? One moment she thought they had escaped the zombies and the next she was here.

  The old woman knelt beside her. “Are you her?”

  Lauryn raised her brow.

  “The girl they were looking for?” The old woman touched her hair. “You must be. You have red hair.”

  Lauryn backed away to the wall, pressing her back against it, but it gave no comfort, only more coldness.

  “Poor girl,” the woman said. “Poor, poor, little girl.”

  Lauryn turned away as she fe
lt the tears. She didn’t want to cry, but she had no say in it. The tears came and they kept coming until she fell into a slumber. Her life, already a nightmare, grew worse by the second.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Sarah stood in front of the building, a gray slab construction with no architecture frill hiding what it was, a concrete square with sharp points. An ugly thing, holding many ugly things. How depressing was it to work in that building every day? No wonder Terry sometimes seemed grumpy.

  Sarah flinched as a score of soldiers came marching through the doors. She looked away from the sneers, scowls, and hateful stares they gave her as they passed her. People forget, but these ones never forgot who she was and what she had done. They knew she had escaped a town they nuked and that more than one of their own died because of her. They didn’t understand it had been self-defense. No way, Ralph and she would have stood there and allowed them to do whatever to them.

  A couple approached the building, a broad-shouldered male and a slender, tall female. The female soldier gave the male a pinch on the rear as he went inside. Both laughed. Sarah rushed the door. The soldiers were too preoccupied to notice her slip inside behind them.

  Mr. Ward had given her the plans of the health department building and the barracks. It had taken some convincing, but Mr. Ward had seemed less resistant when she told him she wanted to steal the medicine from the guards. He looked downright relieved. With her knack for memorizing what she saw, she had the plans stuck in her head. From where she stood, she had to go straight, through the twin doors, and down three stories. She quickened her pace as the soldiers started flashing her odd looks. She ducked through the door and fled downstairs. Behind her, she heard the door open and voices came washing in. Someone called out and she heard heavy boots plod behind her. Not in haste. They must know she had nowhere to go. Most likely, a soldier kept guard at the door in case she managed to slip by whoever was coming after her. She was trapped.

  Sarah hoped Mr. Ward was right that Terry would be at the holding cells to inspect the prisoners and prep the specimen. She hated how she thought about another living human as a thing, but there was no way around it. It was the only way to accept the alternative if she failed, that someone had to die to save Priss. She was willing to do that. Priss was one of her only friends in the world. The other one was somewhere down here, at least she hoped he was.

  As she went past the second floor, the soldier above her descended from the first floor, not hurrying. Going downstairs, she heard voices. Her heart leapt as she heard the deep tone of Terry.

  “Damn the red-haired bitch is a fierce one. Got her dragging and screaming. She hit Ancer a few good ones,” Terry said.

  Sarah slowed down, her steps faltering.

  “He must have been pissed being hit by such a little thing,” a gruff voice said.

  “Can you believe the little cunt threw an axe at him? He almost pissed his pants.”

  “You sure you can handle her?”

  Terry laughed. “I’ll have her begging when I’m done with her.”

  “Heard you notched another one not too long ago. The bitch who—”

  The soldier, a barrel-chested man a head shorter than Terry, with crew-cut hair, and heavy-lidded pig eyes which traveled all over her, said, “What the fuck are you doing here?”

  The soldier behind her caught up and grabbed her. Sarah jumped as his fingers closed around her arms. The man stank of sweat.

  “Hey, captain,” she heard the soldier behind her, “look what I got.”

  Terry was facing the barrel-chested soldier, his back to Sarah. He turned around. His eyes widened for a second, the smirk on his face fading. He stared at her in disbelief.

  “Let her go, Corporal Jenks.”

  Jenks softened the grip on her. “You sure, cap?”

  Terry nodded, and the soldier let her go.

  “Good job, Jenks. She shouldn’t be here. Now return to your post.”

  Jenks saluted and sauntered back up, but not before casting a foul look upon her and mumbling a curse as he made his way up.

  “Well, speak of the devil and here she is,” the barrel-chested guy said.

  Terry elbowed the soldier. “Hank, go inspect the prisoners. I’ll join you shortly.”

  Hank smiled at Terry. Sarah noticed the officer’s epitaph on Hank’s shoulder. A lieutenant, she thought, if she weren’t mistaken. From the man’s scruffy look, and less than pristine uniform you would not have thought so. Next to Terry, he looked like a beggar, but the both of them were friendly enough. Something in the man seemed familiar. The way he walked. The voice, the pinched nose. It dawned on her. Hank looked like a much older version of Anton’s friend, Richard. Hank went over to the intercom and was buzzed in.

  “Are you coming down?” Terry said, his voice soft now, more honey in it than the foulness of before.

  Sarah hesitated, unsure why she wasn’t running into his arms right now. The way he had talked about the prisoner, it was so much like Anton had done when he had her trapped in the RV. Terry showed a sadistic side she thought he didn’t have. His eyes met hers, questioning.

  “Come down.” There was annoyance in his voice. “Please.”

  She went down the steps. Terry smiled. “Sorry about before. Jenks was only doing his job. You should have let me know before coming. I would have left a memo to let you inside.”

  Terry stretched his arms out and went for an embrace, but she flinched. Not understanding, he lowered his arms. “Is there something wrong?”

  He didn’t even mention what she overheard him and Hank talking about, like that wasn’t something that would bother her.

  “Sarah?”

  She saw the worry in his eyes, but she also caught the slight annoyance in how the corner of his lip twitched up. She caught him in a total different environment than they usually met in, in his workspace. She shouldn’t blame him for being annoyed, but still it was offsetting the way he acted.

  “Why did you come here? Is something wrong?” He now looked over her shoulder up the stairs, alarmed. “Did something happen to Priscilla? Am I too late?”

  Sarah shook her head. Terry sighed in relief. This was more like the man she knew. Sarah relaxed and touched his hand. Terry smiled. “You had me scared there for a moment.”

  “I need your help,” Sarah said.

  “With what?”

  “I want to get in the health department and steal the cure they have stored in the basement.”

  Terry shook his head. “The building is occupied and barricaded. We can’t clear it yet. They have hostages.”

  “I don’t need you to clear it. I just want you by my side when I go in.”

  “No.” The annoyance slipped back into his voice and in the way his mouth twitched. “I can’t allow you to.”

  “But Priss has only two days max. We can’t afford to wait.”

  Terry held her by her shoulder, and despite the anger brewing inside her, his touch sent a pleasant thrill into her. He drew his face closer to hers. “Don’t worry about that. Priscilla will have her cure by tomorrow, and enough to last her a year. It will be okay, believe me.”

  Sarah backed out of his hold, her face white. She opened her mouth to say something but shut it again. He planned to drain the prisoner? Not even bothering to try another option? Is that how much he thought of life?

  “Hey, don’t be like that. I just don’t want you to go out and risk your life for nothing.”

  She stepped back. Terry closed in faster than she could back away and hugged her against his hard chest. His hand pressed against her back, caressing up and down. It sent warmth through her. However, the feeling felt wrong now. Sarah shrugged out of his embrace. If he cared this much about her, why didn’t he offer to help her?

  “Come on, Sarah, don’t be mad at me. I’m just following orders.”

  She couldn’t remember Mr. Ward saying anything about draining the specimen. “Whose orders?”

  Terry recoiled at the venom in h
er words. He quickly recovered, his eyes growing hard. “The brass.”

  “Can’t you for once not follow orders and help me out?”

  “Like I’ve not done that enough already for you?” he said, not hiding his anger. “You really think I can afford not to do as I’m told this time?”

  Sarah backed down at his intensity. Terry’s face softened as he lowered his hand and unclenched his fists. “Look, Sarah, there is really nothing I can do. Please don’t do anything stupid. You’ll get me in trouble.”

  Sarah didn’t answer. She had not thought about the consequences for him.

  “Please, return to your room and stay inside. At least until this is over.”

  Sarah backed up on the stairs. He didn’t follow. His placid face appeared tired. “I’ll come visit.” He flashed her a wry smile. “A date maybe?”

  She forced herself to answer. “That would be nice.”

  He nodded, waved her away, and turned his back to her to speak into the intercom. The door buzzed open. Terry straightened his back, pushed his chest forward, and went inside. He didn’t look back at her as the door closed and locked. How foolish she was to come here. If not by chance, no way she would have been let in. She would just cause him more trouble.

  Sarah left the building, ignoring the foul looks the soldiers gave her. She was back to her original plan, to wing it alone, and get Priss what she needed before the day was over. Whoever the specimen was, she couldn’t allow her to die without first trying to get a cure another way. Terry be damned. He’d survive whatever came his way. At least to her an innocent life was still worth something.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Ralph lay prone high up on a rock ledge, which oversaw the area below. He had covered good ground, had only one run in with a small group of zombies, but they were slow ones, so he easily avoided them. It took him a total of two hours and fifty minutes to cover the ten miles. From his position, he had a good view of the extraction point. Between tall trees, there was a large enough area that a pilot could land a helicopter. Without the navigation system and the coordinates from private Preston’s map, he would never have found the secluded place.