Outbreak: A Cerebral Novel #1 (The Cerebral Series)

by Stuart Keane

  "Mine’s in the car," Trent finished, knowing where the question was headed.

  Dee nodded and placed the phone between her shoulder and chin. "We have a dial tone."

  "Good start," Trent uttered.

  She dialled a number. After a long moment, she clicked the receiver and dialled another. No answer. On the third call, she paused, and then dialled 999. Trent saw her do it. "Bit clichéd, isn't it?"

  "We have to get hold of someone. The other stores aren’t answering."

  On the fourth ring, the phone picked up. "Good morning, police. How can I direct your call?"

  It took all of Dee's will power to push her squeal of absolute joy deep down. "Hello, hi. Erm … we need assistance. Please. A madman is loose in our store."

  "Okay, miss. What's your name?"

  "Dee."

  "And what is your location?

  "Shoo Boutique, in the Barrington Mall, bottom floor. Opposite River Island…"

  "Okay. Do you have somewhere safe to wait?"

  "Yes. We're in the security office."

  "And security cameras? Is the store fitted with them? So you can see us coming?"

  "Yes," she said, smiling.

  "Okay, do so. Hold up where you are. We'll be there as soon as possible."

  "Thank you."

  Dee put the phone down. Trent and Morgan were watching her, excited.

  "The police are coming," she said. "We just have to wait."

  *****

  Following the loud scream, Melanie Bartram's office door swung open. The receptionist ran into the room, her actions hurried and panicked, and slammed it behind her. In the lobby, Melanie caught sight of some movement; quick, fast. A chair toppling over, an unknown person running forwards. She felt a shiver run up her spine as she eased to her feet. "Karen, what's going on?"

  The receptionist locked the heavy door with a click. The wood shuddered as a large weight collided with it on the other side. Karen stumbled to the ground and landed on her knees. Mascara-tinged tears were streaming down her face. The door shook again. David stood up and walked to it, putting himself between the two women. He placed his ear to the wooden surface. He heard nothing from the room beyond.

  Melanie crouched down. "Karen?"

  "They're dead," she uttered. The tears continued. "All of them. Dead."

  "Who's dead?"

  "Everyone."

  "You need to be a little more speci…"

  "Everyone! Everyone!" Karen screamed. Melanie backed off. The erratic woman sneered, baring teeth. "Don’t you fucking get it! Everyone. From the ground lobby to the third floor, they're all fucking dead!"

  "Calm down."

  "Don’t you tell me to calm down," Karen spat.

  "You're acting irrational," David chimed in.

  "You can fuck off too. You have no right to talk to me like that."

  Melanie sighed. "You need to calm down. You're not making sense, and you need to help us understand." She glanced at the door, remembered the brief violence from moments ago. "Who's out there?"

  "I … I don’t know."

  "Who was chasing you?"

  Karen gulped, her eyes wide and frantic. "Everyone."

  "That’s a stretch … how can everyone be—"

  "Don’t you get it?" Karen interrupted. "They're dead. And they're chasing me, all of them. What's hard to process about that?"

  "Dead people don't run," Melanie said, her answer confident, backed by her immense medical knowledge. "It's impossible."

  "Well … miracles happen, I suppose."

  Melanie nibbled her lip. David noticed and groaned, easing himself into her chair. He had to hide the erection that was forming beneath his jeans. The horror, the two women, the chaos. His mind was working overtime to create an elaborate sexual fantasy.

  Melanie held Karen by the shoulder. "Take me through it. What happened?"

  Karen sniffed, wiping a spool of cloudy snot onto her forearm. "I went … upstairs to get some milk. We're out, and I know you like your coffee at … well, about now."

  Melanie nodded.

  "I went to Claudio's office, he always has some because he likes his coffee whiter than a ginger man's backside, but no one answered. His receptionist was missing too. I went upstairs to Jason's, and the same result. That's when I spotted the blood splashed and smeared along the corridor wall. I found Claudio … eating Jason, in his office."

  "Are you sure?" Melanie asked, a frown creasing her forehead.

  "I'm sorry, did I stutter? Do I sound like I'm joking?"

  "You sound like a loony," David added.

  "David, please," Melanie interjected.

  "I know what I saw," Karen continued. "Anyway, that's when they saw me."

  "Who?"

  "All of them. Jason, Claudio. His receptionist, who appeared from behind his couch. She had … she was chewing on an arm … like a piece of chicken from the bucket. The forearm was rife with bites."

  "I thought you said Jason was dead. Claudio was … eating him."

  "I know. That's what terrified me. He chased me, with his throat hanging out. I could hear the blood pattering the tiles as I ran. Could hear it swinging and squelching as he chased me. I smelt his rancid breath at one point. I dread to think how close he got … got to…"

  "It's impossible," Melanie repeated.

  "Well, why don’t you go out there and tell them that?"

  Silence enveloped the room.

  "Dr. Bartram?" David interjected.

  "Yes?"

  "I just wanted to check … you're not charging me for this, are you?"

  Melanie stood up and turned, an incredulous look on her worried face. Her movements were almost violent in speed. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

  "I'm quite serious. We weren't done here, and this paranoid bitch interrupted my therapy with her fabricated stories of the undead. I reckon she's been watching too much television. That's my diagnosis." David smiled. "See, I can do this too. It's easy."

  Melanie felt her jaw knotting. "I want you to remain quiet. We need to figure out what's going on."

  "By all means," David uttered. He shot Karen a spiteful glance.

  Melanie moved to the window. She reached for the latch and opened it, sliding the pane left. A gust of warm wind swooped into the room. She tucked her hair behind her ear and glanced down into the street. Several police cars sat at the base of their building, parked in formation, their lights flashing in heavy silence. She saw no one, not a flicker of movement. Her worried gaze cast wide, taking in the small town before her. Movement was scarce, limited. The pavements were empty. Checking her watch, she frowned. "That's … strange."

  Karen sobbed into a tissue. "What?"

  "I can't … it's simply not possible. It's eleven o'clock, and I see nothing. No shopping crowds, and no vendors on the streets. No people heading to work. Everyone has vanished."

  "I told you."

  Melanie closed the window. "I don’t get it."

  The door thudded once again. This time, all three of them heard a quiet, animalistic growl. A faint scratching noise pervaded the room.

  "It … they know we're in here," Karen blubbered.

  "Yeah, because you brought them here, you stupid bitch."

  Melanie strode across the office. "David!"

  "It's true, though. Before she come bumbling in here, we were doing just fine. Now? We have god-knows-what searching for us. A bloodthirsty animal if her insane ramblings are to be believed. She brought the devil to our door."

  "You're out of line."

  "I know, but I'm also right."

  "No one is right; this is a … unique situation."

  "You can’t be diplomatic all the time," David said, his irritation growing.

  "Shut up. I need … we need to think."

  "Well, because of wise ol' pissflaps here, we're not going anywhere in a hurry. I just hope the door can hold," David finished.

  Both women stared at their male companion. They said nothing. Their eyes
flicked to the door, and a developing bout of worry claimed both of them.

  "Karen. What is that thing?"

  "Melanie, I told you…"

  "No, I mean really. Tell us the truth."

  "I just did. One minute they're dead, the next, they're sitting up and chasing me down the stairwell."

  "What did they look like?"

  "Claudio and Jason … only, more aggressive, more … growly. Light eyes, almost white. Covered in blood, more jerky and erratic, as if someone was electrocuting them. Despite that, they were fast, energetic. Their complexion was mottled with blood, darker too."

  "But Claudio is Italian. He has dark skin anyway."

  "Exactly, but he's not black. Well, he wasn't…"

  Melanie let the information sink in. David scoffed, laughing. Karen looked up. "You still here?"

  "I have a right to be. You're the one who interrupted—"

  "Will you two shut the fuck up!" Melanie blurted. Both of them regarded her, stunned by her sudden outburst. "David, we're no longer in session, okay? Deal with it. Karen, we're stuck with him despite his misogynistic tendencies, so please, ignore his blathering. Until we find a way out, we're not going anywhere."

  "I'm sorry," Karen uttered.

  "You don’t need to apologise. This isn't your fault," Melanie replied.

  A weak smile appeared on her tearstained face. "I suppose we better get comfortable. We're not going anywhere in a hurry."

  David leaned forward in the therapist's chair, straining his ears. Saying nothing, he stood up and walked to the door. Listening, he heard nothing. A smile crossed his lips. "I think they're going away. Here, listen."

  Karen and Melanie both approached him, getting in close. David stepped aside, past the handle, to allow them access. "I think they're retreating."

  Melanie nodded. "If we stay quiet, they will. Simple logic."

  "Yeah, they're driven by noise. That's clear," Karen added.

  "Unless they can smell the blood," David said.

  "What blood?"

  David chuckled and elbowed Melanie in the face. Her nose snapped as the limb made contact. The shot was fast, sudden. The therapist dropped to the carpet in a crumpled heap. Her hands shot to her damaged face as she landed on her side, legs splayed. Karen looked up, shocked by the sudden violence. She looked at David. "What did you do?"

  "I'm sorry, I really am."

  Sliding a knife from his boot, he stabbed Karen in the ribs seven times, each strike spraying dark blood against the slick door. Karen shunted and wobbled from the impacts, her small body rocking on the spot, the breath punched from her lungs in ragged, short grunts. David grabbed the woman by the hair, pulled her forward, and opened the door. He kissed her on the forehead and licked her eyebrow. "You brought this on yourself. No hard feelings, huh?"

  With the door open, he shoved Karen out into the lobby. The view initially still, he noticed two figures standing behind her desk. One wore a police uniform, and the other resembled the man Karen had described. They turned to the commotion with a growl as Karen sagged to the carpet, her hands clutching her perforated stomach. Blood gushed between her fingers as she attempted to stem the heavy flow. She coughed, spewing crimson down her front.

  David smiled and closed the door.

  Seconds later, he heard the creatures tear the woman apart. Karen's terrified screams filled the air. David grinned until the noise subsided to nothing but muffled chewing, walked over to Melanie's chair, and sat down.

  Crossing his fingers, he watched the fallen woman at his feet, her legs curled to her stomach, the black tights accentuating her delicious curves. Her skirt rode high on her thighs, showing pale flesh through the material. He licked his lips at the sight of her fallen figure. She grunted and rolled over, giving him a look at her impressive cleavage. He patted his bulging erection and stabbed the knife into the arm of the chair.

  In due time, little one.

  In due time.

  We're all alone now, just how it was meant to be.

  I think we just found a successor to Thea.

  *****

  Keeping to the tall trees, Goodright cautiously edged her way back to the brink of civilisation.

  The Nichol mansion was centred on a large patch of prime real estate, four acres in total, most of which was rooted with the towering beauty of nature itself. Oak trees, dense foliage, tall grass. Aside from the narrow concrete driveway that looped to the front door, no other pathways existed on the property. Navigating by fractured memory, Goodright located the winding route they'd used the day before, a slight grassy incline that began at the front wall and led to the back door and, as it turned out, Nichol's laboratory.

  As she traversed the route in reverse, and snaked her way through a host of impressive oak trees, the path began to clear. Goodright finally discovered the impressive brick wall, a structure that surrounded the entirety of the property, and forced a triumphant smile. She had expected more in the way of opposition.

  She'd met none.

  Her mounting trepidation and fear, a nervous feeling enhanced by the unknown surroundings and deep foliage that masked her very presence, not to mention a number of potential hidden threats, was for nothing.

  Stepping into the open, she slowly scanned the area, baton at the ready.

  She saw no one.

  No creatures.

  Only vast space and eerie silence.

  And an abandoned police car.

  She smiled once more. The vehicle was untouched.

  Parked inside the open front gates, the vehicle stood idle. Goodright crouched and trotted over to it, keeping low, her shoes scuffing on the concrete. She opened the door and slid into the vehicle itself. The smell of fresh upholstery caressed her nostrils, easing away the clinging scent of blood and death. She sighed, thankful her ride was still here. Locking the car via the central locking mechanism, she opened the glovebox and rifled through the meagre contents. She found nothing.

  I need a firearm.

  You don’t work for Armed Response.

  No, but I know who does.

  Removing the keys from her pocket, she started the vehicle, reversed, and pulled out into the deserted street. The tyres smoked a little as she spun the car around.

  I just hope they're still alive.

  SEVEN

  "You aren't seriously considering it?"

  "Of course I am."

  "We should be getting out of here, not going on a wild goose chase for a bunch of people who might already be dead. We're in the middle of an outbreak, remember?"

  "We might be. And your knowledge is based on the movies. Besides, they sounded very much alive on the phone," Harrison replied. "I'm going to get them, outbreak or no. I can’t just dispense with my civic duty on a whim."

  "An outbreak is not a whim," Bruce uttered.

  "Yes, but it's not an eventuality, either. It’s a fictional concept until proven otherwise. A few strange me—"

  "Zombies," Bruce interrupted.

  "Okay, zombies. A few zombies doesn’t constitute an outbreak."

  "You clearly haven't seen the movies."

  "Are you coming, or are you going to stay here and wait to see if this building can withstand the attack of ten thousand and fourteen walking corpses?"

  Bruce's eyes widened. "Huh? How many?"

  "Ten thousand and sixteen, the current population of Barrington. Minus us, which would make the number ten thousand and fourteen."

  Bruce stood in silence, as if contemplating his unbalanced options. "Fine. I'm coming."

  "Good."

  "But we should check the armoury first. Weapons might be useful."

  "No can do, Bruce. I don’t have access to the armoury."

  "But you're the police?"

  "Yes … yes, I am. I was due for a promotion today. Even then, only certain people have access to that room, for the obvious reasons."

  "So, you're telling me we have hundreds of guns back there, a perfect way to defend ourselves from t
he outbreak should it reveal itself to be true, and we have no way of getting them?"

  Harrison nodded.

  "We're going to die," Bruce uttered.

  "We'll be fine. We can get out ahead of this."

  "Well, we better get moving then. Every moment we waste here…"

  The squeal of tyres pricked Harrison's ears. Bruce lapsed into silence and stood up. A door slammed, followed by clonking footsteps. The boy crouched behind the desk. "They can drive too?"

  Harrison held a finger to his lips. Moving towards the door, he paused beside it, waiting for the new arrival. A shadow flickered in the doorway as someone moved down the entrance hall. Seconds later, a figure moved into the station. Harrison stepped out behind it. "Freeze."

  The person froze. Harrison recognised the clothing, the dark uniform. He frowned when he noticed the bloodstains, the tears and damage. "Turn around."

  Naomi Goodright turned, a sly smile on her face. Her brown eyes looked him up and down, derision in her gaze. "Hi, Harrison. Still an arsehole, I see?"

  "Goodright. Thank the Lord. I thought everyone was dead."

  Goodright backed off a step. "Everyone?" Her eyes scanned the empty room, noticed the lack of noise and activity. They widened as her gaze returned to Harrison. "They're all dead? It must be serious if you're considering religion."

  "Huh?"

  "You thanked the Lord," she chuckled.

  Harrison exhaled. "You're hilarious."

  Goodright nodded. "I know. So, where is everyone?"

  "I … I don’t know, not for sure. I arrived a while ago and this place was deserted."

  "That's strange."

  "Aren’t you on the radio?" Harrison asked, relaxing a fraction. "Did they get called somewhere?"

  "Yes, but I've been out of contact for a bit. And I doubt any emergency would warrant the entire force," she said, dubious. Her chest felt heavy. Her breathing became laboured.

  "I suppose you're right."

  She nodded. Bruce stood up from behind the desk, smiled, and waved. "Hello."

  Goodright eyed the boy. "Hello?"

  A silence fell between them. Harrison stepped in. "This is Bruce. Bruce, this is Sergeant Goodright … Naomi."

  "What's a kid doing here?"

  Harrison sighed. "That's just it…"