Afflicted: Patient Zero (An Outbreak Zombie Infected Horror Suspense Series, Book 1)

by Derek Shupert

  Being left without a bucket to piss in, I play the light back over the rubble, trying to find an hole I can squeeze my big frame through. I want to avoid anything along the bottom of the pile.

  I scan over the top and find a small glimmer of hope in the right corner. It looks tight and the rebar coiling all around isn’t much help, but it’s better than the alternative.

  I sling the shotgun over my shoulder and start my way up the pile, mindful of the jagged metal protruding out of the concrete. Chunks of debris slip and give way as I make my way up, creating a loud, clamoring noise. I lose my footing and fall flat on the unforgiving concrete, my chest and stomach jabbed hard by the busted up rock. Some of the sharpened ends puncture my ribs, digging deep into my internal organs.

  Just another wound to add to the others I’ve already collected on my journey.

  I dismiss the gash in my side like it’s a bug bite, and get back to my feet. I’m already halfway up the mountain of rubble and my hopefully spacious outlet will become my current savior.

  I start the climb again. The moans and shrills break the corner of the corridor and slam my ear drums, spinning my head around. I was hoping it would just be the slower and less agile ones, but I’m out of luck.

  The murder is not very large, but a mixture of dawdling and voracious soul snatchers bombard my eyes. A few break from the pack and sprint towards the rubble, mouths foaming and their clawed hands reaching for me.

  Sometimes, I think they have some sort of homing device on me that tells them where I am.

  I make haste and scramble up the rest of the way, sending more concrete hurling towards the floor below as I reach the summit. The opening looks much smaller now then what it did from the ground, but I don’t have much of a choice.

  I remove most the gear from my person and cram it through the opening, my bag tumbling end over end as it slams into the ground. I don’t bother inspecting the other side for any dangers that might be waiting, figuring that the video room is right there and I can make for it once I reach the bottom.

  I suck in my gut and go head first, the shotgun leading the way. It’s tight, very tight, but I’m able to wiggle through. Half my body is already finding haven and I’m bringing in the rest, not caring that pieces of steel and rock are getting intimate with every inch of my body. It’s almost like I’m being sent through a cheese grater on steroids.

  I hear the first wave of undead hit the rubble, shrilling and sprawling up the mound, reckless and wild. I keep my cool, not wanting to freak out and run the risk of tearing a major artery that will possibly bleed me dry.

  Can I even bleed that much?

  The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and my senses heighten, my inner motivator urging me to pull my legs in now. I reel the rest of my body through the tiny opening and tumble down the other side half way, getting worked over by the debris that has been waiting for me.

  I glance over my shoulder and see a flesh deprived body emerge, its clawed and spiked arms gripping whatever it can to pull itself through. It looks my way and lets out a different kind of shrill, more precise and focused—almost like it’s trying to signal someone or something through Morse code.

  I stop and listen closely. For some odd reason I’m picking up some of its chatter. It’s muffled and completely French to me, making me wish I had an undead translator.

  I dismiss the creature’s gibberish and focus my attention on it. Its body appears to be stuck within the contorted steel, thrashing around uncontrollably as it struggles to free itself. It stretches out its torn and mangled limbs, open sores oozing yellowish bile all over the busted rock beneath it.

  I get to my feet and remove the shotgun from my shoulder, training the barrel right between its enlarged eyes. I can hear the others scratching and beating on the rubble from the opposite side, fighting to get through and get a piece of me. This is one time where a cave in comes in handy.

  I grip the pump and load a cartridge, my finger anxious to pull the trigger. Even in the face of death for the second time, the infected show no fear. No cowardliness. I guess having that part of your brain shut off and thrown into a mindless state makes life much easier. Less cumbersome.

  I waste no more time and deal the demon its final blow, the shotgun exploding with anger and striking it in the head. Chunks of brain matter and thick, pasty red blood paint the rocks, silencing the beast and sending it back to hell where it belongs.

  The barrel smokes with satisfaction as I pump the gun once more, ejecting the spent shell. A fresh slug slides into place and holds tight, waiting for its next victim.

  With the dead and immobile body plugging the only hole I can see that the infected could possibly slip through, I make my way down the rubble and hit the ground. I grab my jostled gear and sling it onto my back.

  The surveillance room is a few more doors down on the right. It’ll be nice to get a better idea of what I’m looking at. Hopefully they’re all contained on the inside of this facility.

  12

  The noise from the infected fades away as I move on, passing door number one and approaching door number two. I guess they decided to give up momentarily and go look for some easier prey, or maybe they’re just searching for another way to get to me. Either way, I’ll be ready.

  Looks like I might have some company to contend with on the inside of the video room.

  Streaks of blood and claw marks riddle the outside of the heavy door. When you’re running for your life and need some cover, a thick metal door separating you from those crazy ass things can make a person feel all warm and cozy on the inside.

  The access panel has been ripped off and exposed wires reach out from the wall in a tangled and useless mess, but the door appears to be latched shut. No need for the card then. I grab the handle and gently pull down, trying not to make too much noise. I’m still not sure if or what is lurking around on the inside.

  The silver handle gives enough to fulfill my notion that it’s unlocked, which is actually kind of unnerving and relieving all at the same time. Whoever is in there must be really lucky or really dead. Guess I’m about to find out.

  I train the shotgun straight ahead and pull the handle down all the way, feeling the latch retract fully and the door break free. I stop and listen for a second, my ears scanning for any sort of movement.

  Nothing.

  Doesn’t mean there’s nobody home, considering my last run in with the two suckers that tried to snare me. I’ve accepted the fact that most, if not all these rooms will probably have something that either wants to eat me or shoot me without pause. Can’t say I blame the latter though. I’m pretty much operating the same way.

  I place my left palm on the door, the thick red blood smearing over my hand, and slowly push it inward. The glow from what I assume is the monitors lights up the room just enough to make out shadows. My eyes bring the rest into focus and wipe out any dark spots, making things a lot easier to judge if I’m walking into a world of hurt or not.

  Everything looks to be clear and I push the door open more, carefully taking small, calculated steps forward. The monitors and control center cover the wall to my right, leaving a lone empty chair pushed up nice and neat under the desk. I turn my head to the left and peer past the door’s edge. A woman lies on a couch, a dingy black coat draped over her upper body. Those same three letters are etched into the sleeve—TGP. She’s motionless and doesn’t appear to be breathing. not sure if she’s dead dead or just undead. I wish her face was turned towards me.

  I train my shotgun above her neck, just below the top of her skull, the sweet spot. One shot, one kill. Easy enough.

  I keep quiet and move in a little closer, my nostrils capturing the putrid and dead smell of those things. She must be freshly dead, not yet turned all the way where the flesh is her main driving force. The humane thing to do is to send her on her way, whether she goes to heaven or hell is up to her to find out in the afterlife.

  I approach the couch and place the barr
el of my peacemaker close to her skull. Something explodes out of the darkness from behind the door and grabs my shoulders. It tosses me with ease across the room, slamming my body against the cinderblock wall.

  Air escapes my lungs and I’m caught trying to fetch it back—my eyes wide and my mouth gaping open. I double over, trying to cough, but coming up with wishful thinking.

  My eyes roll up and see whatever it is standing over the woman, looking down at her, almost like an obedient dog looks over his master. Before I can say anything or think of taking a much needed breath, it twists around and darts right at me. I get a good clean shot of its face, mutated and that crazed hungry look for flesh swimming in its black, soulless eyes.

  It grabs me again, this time by the throat, and rams me against the wall. My feet dangle off the ground, swinging back and forth like a little kid in a big chair. I throw a few punches in its face and try to break its hold, bringing down the point of my elbow hard into its flesh deprived arm. I think all I’m really doing is pissing this thing off more and more. Then again, the infected always seem to be pissed.

  Its cracked and bloody lips divide, its two rows of jagged teeth dripping with spit and whatever else is rolling around in its mouth. It lets out one deep growl like sound and stretches its mouth out wide, darting for the meaty part of my throat.

  “Stop!”

  The seemingly wild flesh-eater stops just at the nape of my neck and cuts its head back towards the woman who is now standing. I can’t believe my eyes even as a little sense of relief rushes through me.

  “Please put him down, Trenton,” Alice says in an endearing voice.

  Trenton, huffing and puffing from his disfigured nose that is loosely hanging by a thin piece of discolored flesh, looks my way. He shows his teeth again, like an animal does when it feels threatened, and releases my throat. I fall to the floor hard and clasp my neck, my head dangling like a noodle as I strain to get some air.

  “It’s ok, Trenton; he’s not going to hurt me,” Alice says as I hear her walk towards us.

  Trenton doesn’t seem too keen on leaving her alone with me for some reason, hesitating in place and not moving a single inch. I wish I knew what his deal was or what side of the life spectrum he is on. First he’s killing infecteds and the next he’s trying to rip my throat out. Hard to figure out some people, or things for that matter.

  “Trenton, it’s really ok.”

  I tilt my head up from the ground and peer at Trenton. He still looks distrusting of me, but walks away nonetheless, taking his place by the entrance and shutting the door.

  “Christ, what the hell is his problem?”

  “I’m really sorry. I’m not sure why he . . .”

  Gasp!

  Alice takes a few steps back and holds her hand over her mouth as I get to my feet. Her face instantly goes from an expression of relief to a saddened, sunken look of despair. Trenton must have picked up on her emotional swing because he moves toward me, growling under his breath. “Your face, it’s like . . . theirs.”

  I see the distrusting and near look of terror creep into Alice’s eyes, sending a shockwave of confusion throughout my body. For some reason or another, she thinks I’m one of them. It could be lack of sleep or eating that is distorting her view of what’s alive and what’s undead. I know I probably look like hell warmed over, but dang, give a guy a break.

  I glance at the monitors and find one that is turned off, seeing the bottom portion of my body reflecting back at me. I’m not sure what she thinks she’s seeing, but curiosity has gotten the better of me.

  I walk over to the small mono-colored screens and stop in front of one of the disabled units. Leaning over, I see my reflection for the first time in the grayish colored glass.

  WTF!

  I instantly stumble backwards and shake my head like a dog, thinking there’s cobwebs invading my brain and playing tricks on me.

  It’s not real, it’s not real! No fucking way is this real!

  I must be seeing stuff again. Messed up crap that is trying to do a number on what’s left of my sanity. Yeah, that’s it. Just another one of their illusions to make me lose what grasp I have left on this world. I tell myself over and over again that it’s nothing and that I’m perfectly fine, minus needing a shower and getting cleaned up.

  I vigorously ravage my eyes in hopes of clearing out the horrid sight, digging deep into the sockets. I’m doing it so hard I feel as if I could rip them from their home and toss them aside.

  Ok, get it together now. Everything’s fine. Don’t want to add to Alice’s apparent delusional state and up her anxiety.

  I take a deep breath and lower my hands, noticing that my palms and fingers are not that of a healthy grown man, but that of one of those things. Well, not yet all the way transformed. Almost like a between stage where they still resemble normal living tissue, but show rapid signs of the body dying. I flip my hands over and find the skin to be much paler, becoming a dingy, milky white. I can’t believe I hadn’t seen this until just now.

  I walk forward once more and look into the disabled monitor, finding a hideous and disgusting thing starring back at me. My eyes are as black as Trenton’s, and my face shows the same signs of decay—skin sagging and losing it’s wonderful living glow, leaving behind the lighter look of something without a soul.

  A simple and complex thought burrows inside my brain. I don’t crave or feel the uncontrollable hunger for human meat, nor do I desire that of my flesh-eating brethren. To be perfectly honest, I don’t feel hungry at all. I know I haven’t had a meal in God knows how long, but there’s nothing there. A hollow void that doesn’t need to be filled.

  “Are you . . . ok?”

  My head falls lifeless towards the switch board below as I place my hands on the screens to prop me up. I close my eyes and think of the amazing life I once had—now burned to ash. Even if I get out of here alive, where would I go? What would I do looking like this? Any hopes of being with Becky now are a sick joke.

  The thought of my world crumbling before my black eyes boils over and sends me up, my body tense with rage and all of my muscles teaming with pure violence. I snap hard and clinch my teeth together like a steel trap. I throw my right fist at one of the monitors, cracking the glass with ease and sending shards exploding all around me. Sparks fly like the fourth of July and puffs of smoke bellow out.

  I pull my pin cushion of a fist back, feeling my inner turmoil lowering back down to a less volatile state. Pieces of the screen jet up and out of my hand, blood oozing out in a thick paste. I don’t even bleed normally.

  Sometimes it’s hard to accept certain realties, whether we’re given the chance or it’s just rammed down our throat. But right now, my pity party is of no use to me and will only slow me down.

  I smack my hand against my pant leg hard, dislodging the jagged glass, then turn to face Alice and Trenton.

  I guess Trenton doesn’t find me a threat anymore. He stands next to Alice who is looking at me with a mixed expression. I’m not sure what she’s thinking, but I can see the wheels turning for sure.

  Penny for your thoughts?

  “Sorry about that,” I say as I try to keep a solid stare with her, my eyes wanting to dart in any direction other than right at her. “Kind of a sobering moment when you find out that you’re actually dead, well deadish.”

  Alice doesn’t say a single word. She just stands there with her arms folded and her eyes looking me over. Can’t say I blame her, surrounded by dead flesh-eating monsters and her being the only living person among them could make anyone paranoid.

  Trenton is still eyeballing me hard too, watching my every move with such an eager pose it makes me feel like I could be jumped at any moment. It seems as if he has lost any tethered touch with being human, yet he’s protecting what’s his.

  Maybe I can look over what I need on the monitors and be on my way. I seem to do better on my own, without having the extra weight of people bringing me down.

  “Give me
just enough time to look over what I need to and I’ll be out of your hair,” I say, finally holding my own and looking Alice directly in the eyes. “If I look like I’m going south or anything like that, then Trenton can have a snack.”

  After a short pause with her mouth ajar, Alice finally breaks her silence. “It’s ok, you don’t have to leave if you don’t want to. It’s just kind of hard knowing who to trust given what’s happening.”

  Alice lets her guard down some and relaxes a bit, which in turn makes Trenton less edgy. He’s still watching my every move, but for the meantime, he seems to be less inclined to rip my heart out—literally. “How did you get away from them? You could barely stand and move.”

  “I have no clue. I guess it was divine intervention or just good old fashioned luck.” I pull out the small, black chair from under the control counter. “In either case, I’m still kicking so that’s all I care about.”

  I sit down in the chair and relax for a moment, something I haven’t been able to do in a long while. I’m not really relaxed, just getting a breather while I collect my thoughts and figure out what my next move is.

  Alice plops back down on the beat up couch and leans back, her head resting against the split cushion and her dirty blonde hair flowing over the edge. Her face looks long, and the bags under her eyes look to be growing by the second.

  I can’t say that I feel tired as I sit still and let my brain take a break so I can make a somewhat informed decision. Hopefully, these monitors will give me some good news, or at least make me think I’ve got a chance in hell of getting out of here.

  13