Emergence (Book 3): Incursion

by JT Sawyer

  He pulled himself away from the room and trotted up ahead, listening for the clacking of Healey’s flats on the tiled floor, then he rounded a corner, where he saw her waving her finger in a young woman’s face. They both acted surprised when Reisner appeared, their expressions changing to a façade of strained pleasantness. The nervous twenty-something woman scurried away as Healey moved up towards Reisner.

  “Any word from your man about fixing the radio tower?”

  Reisner nodded. “Should be up and running in a few minutes.”

  “Good, I’ll gather my things from below then.”

  Reisner ignored her statement, thinking back to the dreadful images of the prisoners. “Seems like you run a very tight ship here—do you leave any room to breathe?”

  Healey raised her eyebrows. “Come again?”

  “Your staff seem to cower when they’re around you, and I just happened across the security cams in the jail—you’ve got way more than a few prisoners left inside, and they look a few meals short this week.”

  Her mouth hung open, then it slowly tightened so that her lips formed a straight line as Healey’s eyes narrowed. “Now, that’s a funny way to treat someone who just opened the front gates to you and your people.”

  Reisner took a step closer, his fist tightening. “And if we end up on your bad side, do you have Wyatt escort us out back and leave us to fend for ourselves without any weapons? Is that how it works in your little fiefdom here, Congresswoman Healey? How many have you already sent to their deaths out there?”

  She thrust her hands on her hips and stared at him. “Save your self-righteous attitude. Hell, I put most of those bottom-feeders in here over the years when I was a judge—before our conservative base was lost and all the bleeding hearts stepped in.”

  “You painted quite a picture down below of your noble leadership and benevolence—that was just one part about this whole thing that seemed off from the start.”

  Before she could respond, the overhead speakers began blaring out an automated voice: “Security alert—perimeter defenses have been deactivated.”

  Reisner backed up a foot, checking the front entrance, where he saw Wyatt and another guard trotting towards the building. In the streets behind them were thousands of creatures marching towards the prison. When he turned around, he was staring at the barrel of a Bersa .380 pistol in Healey’s hands.

  “You’re going to get me on that helicopter, then we’ll talk about how all this is going to play out. My guess is that a congresswoman still has some clout back wherever you’re from, so this could still go your way.”

  Healey never saw the marble statue sailing towards her head as Blake flung it from the stairwell at her rear. It cracked her on the back of her skull, sending her to the floor. Reisner rushed up, grabbed the Bersa and then flung it to Blake, who was trotting down the steps.

  Reisner spun around towards the lobby, his AR leveled at the two guards who had just entered the lobby. Wyatt’s face was red as he glanced down at Healey’s slumped body, then he swung his shotgun up, sending a blast of buckshot into the wall next to Reisner. Reisner dropped to one knee and then fired two rounds, striking Wyatt in the eye and nose, causing the backside of his head to splinter apart. Blake followed this up by shooting four rounds at the other guard, one of which caught him in the right cheekbone, dropping him on the steps.

  Reisner rushed back to the security room and scrutinized the live feed from each direction. He saw Morgan’s body slumped against the wall near the utility area below while the control panel for the electric fence was hemorrhaging sparks. “He’s disabled the whole system—why would he do that?” Reisner moved the cursor and adjusted the scale of the screen, zooming in on Morgan’s head, where he saw a bloody fissure behind the man’s right ear and the limp body of a large parasite. “He was already infected? How’s that possible? He was with us for hours—he would’ve shown signs.”

  The dozen monitors on the wall began darkening, and he thought at first it was the power glitching, but then he saw the shapes of thousands of creatures flowing into the streets around the entire perimeter of the prison. He couldn’t remember ever seeing this many concentrated in one area, and he felt his mouth go dry. Reisner clutched his rifle and backpedaled out of the room towards Blake, who was standing watch in the lobby.

  “Get downstairs to Porter and see if he needs any help.”

  “What about you?”

  “I’m heading up to the jail roof to reboot the power. By the time I get there, Porter should be finished on his end.”

  “Shouldn’t we stick together?”

  “There’s no time—Morgan killed the perimeter fence. This place is about to be overrun with every creature in the city.”

  Blake ducked his head back into the security room. “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph,” he said, making the sign of the crucifix across his torso. He looked at the other monitors to the right, which showed all the prisoners still racked out in their cells. He slid up next to the control panel on the security desk and slammed his fist on the release button for the locks on the cells, then did the same for the building doors on the jail.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Those guys still have some fight in ’em. They deserve half a chance. Besides, they might buy you more time.”

  “Yeah, except now you’ve cut off my route to the elevators in the jail.” He trotted to the front doors and scanned the grounds ahead. “Get below to Porter. I’ll make a run for the stairwell and get to the antenna.”

  Chapter 29

  Porter had just finished cross-circuiting the line running from the antenna on the jail roof to the central junction box on the concrete wall before him. He removed the penlight that he had been clenching between his teeth and closed the elephant-gray cover on the box. He heard the shuffling of feet approaching and turned to see six frantic people racing down the stairs.

  Doctor Beaumont was at the rear, and shouted out as the group ran past him. “Get inside the bunker—they’re coming. Tons of them are entering the prison grounds.”

  He glanced back up the stairs then back at the group. “Don’t seal that door. Let me get the rest of my people.”

  “You’ve got two minutes,” yelled a man with crooked bifocals at the front of the group.

  Porter bolted up the stairs, tapping on his ear-mic. “Boss, where you at?”

  “He’s inbound for the jail roof. That building is about to be surrounded,” came Nash’s voice. “The perimeter fence around the entire prison has been deactivated. Make your way outside the lobby and hug the shrubs against the building, heading to the eastern part of the compound. I’ll guide you out and clear a path, brother.”

  Chapter 30

  Reisner had been bounding for a hundred yards towards the jail, his lungs burning while a rivulet of sweat ran off his forehead into his eyes. Reisner could see the massive antennas on the roof ahead and knew he was only minutes away from his objective.

  Rounding the corner of the building, he was caught by surprise by a dozen drones huddled near a dumpster, where they were feasting on a disemboweled guard. Upon seeing him, their heads pivoted in unison and they rushed forward with wide eyes. He could see the fire exit of the building he needed to access on his right, but knew he’d never make it in time. Reisner yanked a grenade off his vest and flung it four feet in front of the predatory mob, then ducked low beside some steel trash cans. The explosion tore through the crowd, giving him enough time to sprint for the door. Firing two rounds into the lock as he approached, he flung open the door then double-stepped up to the first landing. He swung around, readying his rifle for the approaching horde, figuring this would be a good choke point to finish them off rather than risk running up fourteen flights of stairs with them on his back.

  Reisner centered his rifle sights on the nearest drone, a portly figure with blood-stained lips that had several worms caught in its goatee. He let go a single round, tearing off the top of the skullcap and painting the wa
ll behind it with a splash of crimson. The three remaining creatures were unfazed, and rushed forward.

  Fifteen feet away.

  Reisner backpedaled, firing at the two on the right, their jaws exploding in a hail of shattered teeth and mandibles.

  The last one sprinted like an enraged tiger, its piercing shrieks filling the stairwell. He knew this time they weren’t testing him but were determined to tear him apart.

  It was closing in on Reisner at twelve feet. Then eight. He could smell its putrid breath.

  Reisner fired twice, hearing one round and then a click as his weapon ran dry. The bullet struck the drone in the throat, splinters of vertebrae and parasites thwacking against the concrete wall. The thing collapsed by his boots, thrashing its left hand at his legs before remaining still.

  He gulped down a breath, his stomach reeling from the stench of death. Reisner backed up as he patted his vest, hoping he had overlooked a magazine for his AR. He glanced down at the depleted rifle, realizing he was down to his Glock and four mags. Biting his lower lip, he slung his AR and removed his pistol, then looked up into the stairwell at the sight of the floors ahead. The distance suddenly seemed like it had been stretched out from fourteen floors to twenty-eight. Get going. Get going.

  Chapter 31

  Porter felt his heart punching against his ribs as he sucked in a deep breath, running up the stairs when he nearly plowed into Blake, who was carrying a small pistol in one hand and Wyatt’s shotgun in the other.

  “The hell happened—where are the guards and Healey?”

  “Guards are dead. Not sure about Healey, though she’s gonna feel like she’s got a helluva hangover soon.”

  Blake looked over Porter’s shoulders and could see the vault-like door of the bunker closing. “Guess that’s no longer an option.” He tapped Porter on the shoulder. “Follow me—we can get out along the east wall before those things get inside the building.”

  “Exactly what Nash said to do.”

  They sprinted up the last two flights of stairs to the lobby then ran for the side-exit door in the distance. Porter wondered for a second if there was an earthquake underfoot, but then he saw the raging torrent of creatures pouring in through the front gate, stampeding along the grounds outside the building.

  He and Blake burst through the side exit, then clung to the building, keeping low behind the long row of bushes that led to an employee parking lot.

  “Hold up by that last cluster of shrubs,” said Nash in his earpiece. “There’s gonna be a break between waves of creatures in another minute. Wait for my signal then run like hell to the armored car near the east emergency exit.”

  “Copy that.” Porter could feel his fingers biting into the grip on his rifle. The blur of creatures racing past them numbered in the hundreds, and he wondered what they were so focused on. Then he heard the screams coming from the jail and realized the prisoners must be battling against a foe they never even knew existed until this moment. God, what a way to end up.

  “On my mark,” came Nash’s voice. “Three…two…one…run!”

  Porter and Blake sprung up and bolted through a row of cars, then past a line of steel barrels until they were at the armored car. Porter looked behind them and saw five drones with their heads torn apart by 7.62 rounds, and was grateful for Nash’s accuracy in shooting.

  “You’re in my blind spot but you should be clear—now get to the gate in front of you and make a right onto the street,” said Nash. “I’m in the van a hundred yards down on the northwest corner.”

  Porter took another deep breath and patted Blake on the arm. “Almost there, amigo.” Porter sprinted past the front bumper of the armored van, only to feel his sides fold from the impact of a drone slamming into his body. He flew to the ground, rolling on his side as his rifle fell out of reach. He saw Blake rush up and butt-strike the drone in the head with his shotgun. Then a blur of flesh filled Porter’s vision as he saw two drones jump on Blake from behind, tearing into his shoulders and neck with their teeth. The burly biker swung one creature off him into the brick wall to the right, then grabbed the other drone by its tiny arm, snapping it over his knee and slugging the beast in the face.

  “You son of a sewer whore.” Blake kept kicking the downed creature until the head broke apart like a porcelain vase.

  Porter clawed along the ground, grabbing his AR and finishing off the last two creatures.

  Blake fell to his knees as Porter rushed to his side. The man’s exposed deltoids were oozing blood; a tangle of parasites greedily plunged their bodies into the tissue until they disappeared.

  Blake grabbed Porter’s hand, giving it a firm shake, then he shoved the man back. “Go—get the hell out of here. I’m done for.”

  Porter reluctantly moved away as he watched Blake stand up and swing his shotgun around towards the oncoming cluster of creatures rushing through the parking lot. “I got you guys this far—now get your people out of this city.”

  Porter retreated through the narrow opening in the gate, then darted between cars on the street as he made his way towards Nash. A barrage of gunfire interspersed with cussing followed from behind him, and he trotted along outside the prison walls as the gruff biker bought him the time needed to make his escape.

  ***

  The throbbing sensation in the back of her head increased as Healey sat up. She looked at the lobby entrance, where the bodies of her two guards lay splayed out on the ground. She searched for her pistol then slowly stood up and made her way through the lobby, leaning one hand on the wall to steady herself as she walked. Passing by the empty security room, she examined the interior monitors and saw that the vault doors below were already sealed. Those bastards—they won’t last two days without me. Those fucking sheep.

  The next sound she heard filled her rattled brain with a primal fear, and she saw the faces of a thousand confused drones filling the lobby from every entrance, their greedy eyes fixated on her soft white flesh. She scurried into the security room, bolting the door shut, then recoiled against the wall, holding her stomach. The heavy breathing and clawing outside the door didn’t last more than a minute before the hinges gave way from the force on the opposite side. Then every inch of the tiny room was filled with guttural howls as Congresswoman Erica Healey’s innards were slathered along the floor and walls amidst the ravenous mob.

  Chapter 32

  As he began his ascent, Reisner paced himself, thinking about how the others were doing in their escape. He thought back to a childhood story from Greek mythology his father told him about the terror that Theseus endured in the maze with the Minotaur, and wondered now just how much of the story was actually fiction.

  When he reached the fourth floor, he paused, resting his weary arm against the railing and sucking in deep breaths. His body felt like he had been in a boxing match and his knees, shoulders, and ribs ached from the constant battles during the past day. Besides the faint hum of fluorescent lighting, his heavy breathing was the only other sound. He glanced up at the red exit sign at the terminus of the stairwell, fixing a lusty gaze on it.

  He pushed on, his deflated stomach rumbling with hunger and his limbs finding little to move them forward except the intermittent flashes of adrenaline. He was sweating profusely and his throat burned for a drink. Each step caused him to force his boots forward. Reisner looked up, blinking his eyes hard, wondering if he had made any progress moving upward. Did I just start walking? He just wanted to sit down and rest—not for five minutes or a night but for an eternity. He was tired on a level that he had never known, and he felt like his soul had been pummeled by all the loss and suffering he had witnessed since the pandemic began. He thought of all the creatures in all the cities he had killed and their overwhelming numbers.

  Maybe we weren’t meant to survive as a species? Maybe our time is truly up on this earth. If that’s so then none of this matters.

  He trudged up to another landing, his heart cleaving through his chest.

  We are
just the tail of a comet racing across the night sky, soon to disappear from sight.

  He gripped the railing and kept moving, his pace slowing.

  What does it matter if Selene finds a cure? There won’t be enough of us left to make a difference. Our light is nearly extinguished.

  His head was pounding. The walls seemed to narrow, as if they were trying to prevent him from moving up another level. He thought of the men on his watch that had died since the pandemic began: Byrne, Dominguez, Santos. He couldn’t lose any more of the few friends he had left in this world.

  Jody and Runa survived and are safe—but for how long? No place is secure anymore. They could die tomorrow. The geographic distance between him and his sister now seemed like it was astronomical, her smiling face fading from his thoughts as if she was a dream. He thought of Selene and Connelly, the two other women in his life, both of them polar opposites. Tried to keep Connelly at a distance—not her fault. She’s a good agent—a good woman. Remember your rule about not getting involved with someone on your team.

  He trudged past the seventh floor. The pistol in his hand felt like it was a thirty-pound kettlebell.

  And Selene... He saw her face clearly and reached his hand out as if she was there reaching for him. I will get back to you, I promise. There will be time for us later…later…later on…too late. He stopped, slamming his fist against the wall. There’s never been time for what I want. Now, what does it matter?

  He paused, catching his breath and dragging his sleeve across his sweaty brow. God, I need to get out of here and out of this city. He felt like his sanity was slipping away with each floor that he passed. Reisner quickened his pace, then stopped abruptly on the tenth floor as he heard the clanking of metal below. Peering over the edge, he saw the silhouettes of dozens of creatures filling the stairwell near the ground entrance. A river of limbs and squirming torsos began hemorrhaging into the corridor, their numbers increasing until they surged like floodwaters beyond the second level. He thought of Nash, Porter, and Blake, who were depending on him. He had to make it to the radio tower and signal Ivins.