Harrison stared at Joel. His restraints wouldn’t stop him from hurling insults at the traitor. “Hey, Joe. Watch it. She’s like a fucking honey badger if you’re not careful!” he yelled, carefully working on the ropes around his ankles.
It was obvious Joel wasn’t armed. He must have been stalling, waiting for backup or something. Otherwise, he was just a dumbass for standing around and waiting for them to get loose.
“My name is not Joe, you hairy fucking beast!” he screamed back, wheeling his body around to face Harrison.
Harrison stuck his bottom lip out mockingly. “Wow, look who has their panties in a twist. Little Joe does!”
Joel stepped closer to Harrison. Harrison shrugged his shoulders as best as he could, nodding towards the sharp knife in his hands.
“I have a knife, Joe. What do you have?” he asked softly, breathing as deeply as possible.
Joel threw his head back, laughing. Harrison wondered if the man might have just been insane instead of stupid. That made more sense.
Lena took her chance as soon as Barry freed her legs. She ran forward and spun around, roundhouse kicking Joel hard in the face. The attack caught Joel off guard since his attention had been on Harrison. Joel looked from one side to the other, horrified. He was trapped, and it was obvious he’d just truly figured that out.
“You won’t get me without a fight!” he screamed, swinging his fist at Lena.
She ducked the punch easily before swinging back at him. Lena was grateful for her Air Force training as she hurled a powerful kick at Joel’s groin. His face went whiter than a ghost.
Barry shuffled over to the sergeant who’d stayed surprisingly quiet throughout the whole ordeal. The weary eyed leader looked heartbroken and exhausted. Barry started work on the rope immediately, hoping he could free the soldier quickly.
“Thanks, mate, but it isn’t much use,” he said in defeat.
Barry studied the sergeant’s face hard. “I know it feels like the end, but it isn’t.” He only knew part of the situation, but he tried his best to comfort the sergeant.
The sergeant sniffed, flexing his fingers as Barry continued to saw. “Have you ever had someone betray you?” he asked quietly.
Barry nodded. “Actually, yes,” he admitted. “I had a friend who betrayed me and took everything from me.”
It was a difficult thing for Barry to think about. He and his friend designed an amazing war game based in the jungles of Vietnam. It had everything he could have hoped for: great graphics, a good story, and it had great marketability potential.
He and his friend had decided to split the profit down the middle, but Barry had trusted his friend too much. He didn’t read the agreement between them closely enough. The copyright was filed under his friend’s name, all the money went to him, and he received all the credit and praise, too. Barry got nothing, and it had haunted him since.
It wasn’t that he cared so much about the money or fame—though he did care about it—his biggest issue came from just how deep the betrayal had gone. He knew his friend had planned that for quite some time.
Sergeant Turner watched Barry as he frantically sawed at the ropes His hands were cracked and bruised. The sergeant felt for Barry, knowing the designer wasn’t trained to be involved in the fast-paced life of the Special Forces.
A loud crack echoed through the room as Lena’s fist solidly connected with Joel’s jaw. She wasted no time taking a step forward and readying herself for another. “This is for all those years we worked together!” she said as her fist connected with his face again.
Joel righted himself, grunting loudly as he did. His nose had sprayed blood all down the front of his clothes, and he spat out a chunk of tooth from one that had broken in the front. “All those years?” he sputtered, staggering from her blows. “What do you think it was like for me?” he demanded, waving his hand in the air.
Lena bought her hands up in front of her face, ready to punch him again. “At least I’m no traitor. I’m here as an honorable soldier, not some fucked up, pimple clustered, soggy old scrotum!” She lashed out again, another punch connecting directly with his nose.
Joel tripped backward from the force. He only barely managed not to fall. Once again, he righted himself, though his gait was unsteady. When he stumbled again, obviously feeling woozy, he sat on the floor. “I only joined H.I.V.E. recently!” he cried out. “I heard Asher speak, and he is surely a gift from God. He is going to save this planet!”
Harrison wrestled his hand free from the ropes and laughed. “Save the planet?” he asked. “Does he drive an electric g-whiz? Does he dress in a grass skirt?” Harrison laughed to himself again. “No, he drives in a stupid BMW, and he owns a drug company! There’s your fucking clue—a drug company!”
Lena stepped back from Joel. Blood covered her hands, and red scratches lined her wrists from the ropes. She was tired and hungry. Joel didn’t seem much worth her time, but something in her made her want to try. Sergeant Turner had failed to bring him back to the good side, and she hoped that she could succeed at it. There was still a good part in there, but it seemed to be buried under the crazy parts.
She held her hand out to him. “Get up,” she barked at him, helping pull him to his feet. “Come with us, or we’ll tie you up here.” She was done with sly games.
Joel stared at her. He seemed confused about what she was doing. “You know, your father is still tied up,” he said plainly.
“Yeah. Almost done with that,” Barry said triumphantly.
“You really have no interest in righting your wrongs, do you?” Lena asked, looking Joel directly in the eyes.
He smiled and shook his head. “I know you’d like to find something redeeming, but I won’t turn on Asher. He’s the future—even if you refuse to see it. If you tried to take me with you, I’d betray you the first chance I got.”
She saw a twitch in his eye, and she knew he was right. The problem was the future was now. His shoulder flinched, and she saw him reach for something behind his back. She rammed her knee in his groin. As he cried out and doubled over, she kneed him in the face.
Joel fell to the floor, and she kicked him over on his stomach before removing a knife he had tucked away in the back of his pants. She tucked it away in her own before grabbing a pair of handcuffs she saw hanging from his belt.
“Should I use these, Joel,” she said before dragging him just a few feet over to the staircase. He wasn’t unconscious, but he was barely coherent enough to make sounds. “Barry wouldn’t have been able to cut through these.”
She grunted as she rolled him again and forced him to sit, so his back was against the railing of the stairwell. He tried to speak full words, but they were mumbled and slurred, so she couldn’t make them out. All she knew was she had to hurry.
Just as the handcuffs clicked into place, Joel jerked and pulled. The cuffs were securely around the thickest post at the bottom of the stairs. Being cuffed to the post pulled his shoulders back at an awkward angle which made it even harder for him to move let alone try anything.
“You bitch,” he said.
“There you are!” Lena said with a smile. She came to stand in front of him, her arms crossed. “You know us, Joel. You should have known this would go badly for you. I’m assuming you thought backup of some kind would show. I can’t imagine that even you would be stupid enough to stick around without it. Anyway, enjoy failure.”
Harrison kicked his legs free from the chair, standing and stretching himself out. Barry had just finished untying the sergeant. Lena shook her head at Joel who remained surprisingly quiet. She turned and made her way over to her father, pulling him into a hug as he stood. She was grateful to see him free after all they’d been through.
“How do we get out of here?” Lena asked, picking up one of the automatic guns off the floor. She made her way over to the window and peeked out.
Mrs. Owens beckoned her over. “There’s a network of tunnels under the entire city of London. We can
use them!” she excitedly told Lena.
Harrison joined Lena and the prime minister eagerly. “That’s great, Mrs. O, but how do we get out of here? The place is crawling with zombies outside.”
Barry, Emily, and the sergeant joined the others. Mrs. Owens smiled before pushing against a wooden panel in the corner of the room. It swung open, revealing a door that led to the same staircase Barry and Emily had climbed up. Barry followed the others through the door.
“Why we didn’t know about that door? It would have totally saved us from falling through an air vent in the ceiling!” he protested, following the prime minister down the stairs.
She turned to face him. “Only I know of that door. It’s not on the blueprints for the house, and it’s completely invisible from both sides. No one else knows either, not even my closest advisors.”
Lena pushed the others through the hidden door before ducking inside herself. She turned back to take one last look at Joel. He looked helpless chained to the banister railing. He smiled at her, watching her disappear behind the panel of wood, and she left him there without a word.
Chapter Fourteen
Mrs. Owens reached the bottom of the stairs quietly. She had only been to the cellar once on a drill to evacuate Downing Street. The rest of the group reached the bottom soon after her. Barry rushed to grab the duffel bag he’d hidden behind the shelf. Mrs. Owens grabbed a flashlight off the same shelf Barry had hidden the bag behind, and she guided them across the darkened room before opening a trapdoor in the opposite corner.
She lit the flashlight; the beam showing the ladder that led to the tunnels. She tucked flashlight in her pocket. “Follow me!” she told the others, removing her shoes before reaching for the ladder.
Lena shook her head and stepped forward. “No, I’ll go first. It’s my job to look after you,” she said, swinging herself onto the ladder.
“I’ll try not to fart on you!” Barry said to Lena, laughing lightly as he followed her down the ladder.
A soft groaning emerged from the corner. The darkness seemed to press in around them as the snarling came closer. Mrs. Owens retrieved her flashlight, shining it towards the corner. She illuminated a grey figure, his security uniform stretched across his large body.
Mrs. Owens gasped at the sight of the guard. “Oh, no! It’s Eric Cathey!” she whispered. She had known the guard very well. He’d served many prime ministers before her. “I’m sorry, Eric,” she told him, even knowing he couldn’t hear her.
Eric snarled as he sauntered closer to the prime minister and the rest of the group. Harrison growled at the zombie guard, his werewolf voice making it sound deeper and even more frightening. The zombie guard continued to move closer to the group, ignoring Harrison’s low grunts.
“Emily, get down to the tunnels,” Harrison told the flight attendant, he pushed her closer to the trapdoor.
Harrison had stashed the knife he’d taken from Emily earlier in his pants. He pulled it free and walked toward the zombie.
“Wait!” the prime minister said with obvious sadness in her voice. “Please don’t kill him. Maybe…”
“Nothing can be done for him now,” Sergeant Turner said. “He’s gone. He’s under someone’s control. You can’t want that for him. I know you don’t.”
Emily hauled herself down the ladder, following Barry and Lena down the opening.
Harrison gestured his head towards the trapdoor. “Your turn now, ma’am. The sergeant will follow you down. You’ll be surrounded. Now go. This has to be done.”.
Mrs. Owens shook her head. “No, I want to be here for Eric,” she said sternly. She knew Harrison was right, but her heart broke for the loss of a friend, and she couldn’t accept it.
Harrison growled, snapping his teeth at the zombie. “There’s nothing you can do!” he told her.
Mrs. Owens sighed in defeat, and she smiled softly at Eric before climbing down the ladder to the tunnel below.
Sergeant Turner looked towards Harrison. “Don’t take too long with that. Get it done and get your ass down there.” He was used to giving the orders, but Harrison seemed to have the situation under control.
Harrison nodded, and Turner climbed down through the trapdoor. Harrison stared at the zombie, studying its movements. It didn’t seem particularly overzealous, and given the size, he knew the beast wouldn’t be able to move well—controlled or not.
He charged at the monster, ducking under a lazy and unskilled swing. His shoulder plowed into the zombie’s stomach, knocking him back to the floor.
“Sorry, Eric,” Harrison said quickly before stabbing the zombie through the eye socket. He turned his nose as a foul stench leaked into the air. Eric twitched and grumbled before going completely still.
Harrison pulled the knife free and cleaned it off on Eric’s uniform shirt before tucking it away again. He stood and quickly made his way over to the trapdoor. He closed it on his way down to the rest of the group.
Mrs. Owens sighed when she saw Harrison. “I really will miss that guard, you know,” she said.
Emily gently patted her shoulder.
Barry looked around and admired the tunnel. It was tall and wide, and the clean walls and solid floor were remarkable. “How long have these been here?” he asked the prime minister, surprised at the cleanliness of the underground complex.
Mrs. Owens thought for a moment before answering. “I think it was one of Churchill’s ideas. It was very much his idea to have the bomb shelters.” She paused to think.
Lena shone a flashlight on the ceiling. There were no lights above them or on the walls, and they would be in complete darkness if the batteries ran out. “We only have two flashlights. The one Barry handed me and yours, so we should hurry. Which way?”
Mrs. Owens stood, looking left to right. “Hm, I think we go this way,” she said, leading the group to the right. She wasn’t entirely sure where they were going. All she knew was they needed to get away from Downing Street and the members of the H.I.V.E. She walked carefully, picking her route with haste but avoiding the bumps along the way.
Barry huffed and panted as he hauled the duffel beside him. The weight was intense, and he slowed down. “Hey, do you think we can distribute these weapons or something?” he huffed, stopping to catch his breath.
Lena walked back to him and unzipped the bag, hoping there would be more lights inside. “We should try stick together down here,” she outlined, pulling weapons from the duffel. “Each of us will take a handgun. If we encounter any zombies, go for the head, understand?” She grabbed an extra magazine and shoved it in her pocket.
Suddenly, the theme from Blackadder rang through the tunnel. The loud music caught the group off guard. Sergeant Turner turned a shade of red as he shoved his hand into his pocket. He pulled his phone out, shocked it could pick up a signal down in the tunnels. The tune grew louder as he hurried to answer it.
“Hello?” he said quietly. “This is Sergeant Turner.”
There was a pause before Sean’s familiar voice spoke. “Sergeant Turner!” he exclaimed happily. “Sir, we got the queen!”
Sergeant Turner stroked his beard as he always did while he talked on the phone. “Oh, that’s great!” he said.
“Where are going to meet up?” Sean asked hastily. The sergeant could hear a dog barking in the background, and he assumed it belonged to the queen.
“Hang on,” he said, looking around at the rest of the group.
Lena stared at her father. “What is it, dad?” she asked nervously.
Harrison stared at the ceiling of the tunnel. He could hear noises coming from above them. His enhanced werewolf hearing could hear the grunting of zombies clattering about above them.
Sergeant Turner held the phone awkwardly in his hand. “Mrs. Owens, where would you like to meet up with those who rescued the queen?” he asked.
“The Merchant Pub!” Mrs. Owens responded quickly. “The one-off Regent Street.” The pub wasn’t far from where they were, and she knew it was eas
y to get to from Buckingham Palace.
Sergeant Turner nodded, bringing the phone back to his ear. “All right, men, listen up.” He spoke quickly and quietly, fearing anyone who might be above them could hear.
“Yes, sir,” Sean said when the sergeant finished.
Sergeant Turner nodded. “Great,” he said awkwardly into the phone. “See you then!” He quickly ended the call and put his phone back in his pocket.
Harrison gripped the handle of his pistol. Zombies were coming closer with every passing moment. “Folks, it may be a good idea to—” He didn’t even get to finish his sentence when a mass of zombies appeared behind them in the tunnel.
“Shit!” Barry exclaimed. “Where did they come from? I thought no one else knew about the trapdoor?”
“The zombies are being controlled,” the prime minister said. “Eric was there while we were escaping. It’s possible they somehow figured it out. We couldn’t have just disappeared, so they probably found the way in.”
“That’s great and all, but it doesn’t matter how or why they’re here. It only matters they are here,” Harrison barked out. “Lena, you and the prime minister lead the way. Barry and I will take up the rear and make sure no one catches up. Sergeant, you follow behind the civilians. If Barry and I have to fall back, the prime minister needs two trained personnel to protect her.”
The group set off running down the tunnel. Flashlight in hand, Lena kept up the lead with the prime minister just behind telling her where to turn. The others chased after her, trying to keep a broad distance between them and the oncoming zombies.
“Ow!” Emily cried as she tripped, tumbling to the ground. She tried to stand, but her ankle immediately gave out on her. “Someone please help!” she cried frantically to the rest of the group.
Sergeant Turner was fast to rush to her aid. “Keep going!” he shouted to Lena and the others ahead.
Harrison and Barry stopped, taking their place between the injured and the zombies as their position detailed. They both turned and aimed their guns in case the zombies caught up before Emily was back on her feet.
Pandemic Z | Book 3 | Pandemic Z 3 Page 12
