Wheels and Zombies (Book 3): Aground
Page 17
I fought my way through the thick plastic sheets of the decontamination room behind the door. Something snapped and broke, but I ignored it and bolted to the bed in the center of the room. As I stepped closer, I could see Angie watching me. Her chest rose and fell in a fast-paced rhythm. She pulled at the restraints with such force that blood started to trickle down her wrists. Even through the thick plastic, I could see her skin glisten with sweat. I sucked in a breath and swallowed hard before I grabbed a sheet of the plastic and shifted it to a side.
I wasn’t ready for what I saw. It was one thing to face the infected on the streets or at an airport. Even seeing Emily, the friend I left behind at that airport after she had been bitten by a customs officers, hadn’t hit me this hard. Maybe because I hadn’t known what the fog swimming in front of her irises meant. But seeing Angie’s eyes all fogged up scared the shit out of me. I gasped and took a step back.
Angie sensed my presence, and her milky white eyes focused on me. She blinked, and I noticed her eyes weren’t as bad as those of other zombies I’ve seen. I took in a sharp breath and stepped closer.
“Please,” she said in a raspy voice. “Kill me.” I glanced down at the gun in my hand. My hand was shaking like someone with Parkinson’s disease. “Please,” Angie repeated. My gaze shifted to her face. Her sweat-coated skin and terrified expression was hard to look at. Still, her voice held determination within.
I lifted the gun and leveled it with her head. The shaking worsened, which forced me to add the other hand. Could I do this? Her eyes were focused on mine, which didn’t make sense. Normally the change was quick. Emily had turned within minutes, although I hadn’t noticed at first. Others changed even quicker. I held her gaze, recapturing that moment on I-678 when a stowaway zombie had sunk its teeth into my shoulder. The British flight attendant named Elizabeth with whom I had fled the airport hadn’t been so lucky. She turned within seconds of the bite and ended up with a bullet in her head. I remembered how Mars had guided me to that alley to keep me from falling in the hands of the military, but then had left me to my own devices.
Then the gun that Mars had left me had shaken in my hands, just like the gun I was holding now. Although then, I’d tried to come to terms with shooting myself. I can’t even recall how long I had sat there on the ground hidden behind a dumpster. Sounds and smells rattled my brain—zombies roaming at the mouth of the alley. Vague, blurry images swam across my vision. Had this thing that was happening to Angie, happened to me? Had I reacted this strongly when the virus started to invade my body? At this point the memory eluded me.
“Please,” Angie repeated and I snapped out of my daydreaming memory. Her eyes hadn’t changed any further. How long was I supposed to wait? Did I need to make sure she fully turned or couldn’t I do that to her? Especially with the mutated virus, parts of her brain would remain functional—she’d know what she had become. I couldn’t do that to her.
I pressed the muzzle of the gun under her chin. Warm tears ran down my cheeks. All this time, running around the United States with actual zombies moaning and groaning as if they had stepped out of a movie, I hadn’t once stopped to think that I might have to kill someone I knew.
Although we’d known each other for only a short time, Angie had become a friend. More than that, she was someone I trusted with not just my own, but Ash’s life. I knew that if something were to happen to me, she would take care of Ash. If I pulled this trigger, that person would be gone.
“Kill me.” Her voice had become a plea—a plea for death.
“Don’t.” Another voice registered in my brain. Breaking through my mental haze, I glanced at my side where Ash had parked her chair. “Please don’t,” she said. Ash’s big blue eyes had filled with tears. The sight of her tightened my throat so I couldn’t utter a word.
“She needs time to fight it,” Ash said. Angie shook her head at Ash.
“I can’t let her turn,” I managed to say at a whisper.
“She won’t,” Ash said determined. Angie shook her head and looked up at me.
“How do you know?” I asked Ash.
“How did you know?”
I held her gaze as the memory of jogging home with Ash in my arms replayed in my head. A zombie had torn her leg to shreds. She had passed out, and I hadn’t been able to tell whether she had turned or not, but it hadn’t stopped me from carrying her home.
Angie fought against her restrains when she sensed my hesitation. The hissing sound of pressured air displacement shifted my gaze to the decontamination area. From her chubby form, I recognized Dr. Matley rushing through the decontamination procedures. Unlike Ash and me, I guess the doctor wasn’t willing to risk stepping inside the lab without the protection of her suit.
If I were going to shoot Angie, I should probably do it before Matley stormed in with her troops and disarmed me. I couldn’t think of what they would do to Angie. Even the information her turned body held might be gold to researchers. I took in a breath and tightened the grip on the gun.
My eyes went wide when Angie’s body started to convulse. Shock forced me to take a step back. Her body twitched and shook so hard I was afraid she might break her bonds. Within seconds, her body went rigid, and she let out a long breath.
I gazed down at Ash who hadn’t seemed to have changed her mind. She shook her head. “Just wait.”
I looked up to see Dr. Matley approach us with careful steps. Luckily she had come alone. She lifted her arms from her sides as if to look disarming, although there was nothing disarming about the bulky figure in the biohazard suit.
Ash grabbed my arm and forced me to focus on Angie. Within an instance, I lowered the gun. My lips curved into a half smile, but it was as if my brain were afraid to be relieved. Angie looked up at me with dark hazel eyes. The fog swimming in front of her irises mere seconds ago had vanished. They were clear, and I could see the relief in them. The rest of her body slumped into the bedding, and her breathing steadied.
“It worked,” Dr. Matley’s excited voice called out. “I would have to do some added testing to confirm the results, but I was right.”
I glared at her sourly. Was that all she cared about, the fact that she was right? She needed some serious reevaluation of her social skills.
Ash rolled her chair closer to the bed and grabbed Angie’s arm.
“I knew you’d be okay,” she said. Angie smiled a bit absentmindedly. I reached to tug the gun into the waistband of my pants when I noticed that wouldn’t work with a flight suit and stashed it in a pocket. Loud banging broke the silence.
My head snapped up to the window where Ash and I had been sitting earlier, and I discovered my own reflection. I had to remind myself that the image staring back at me was me. I had become so used to the bald head over the years fighting cancer that every time I saw the dark-blond hair on my head, it still surprised me weeks after it had started to grow back. I was also glad to see that some added weight had made my lanky form look human again.
There was another bang on the window before a screech over the intercom announced that someone inside the room behind the mirror had pressed the button.
“He’s here,” Mars’s frantic voice came over the speakers. I exchanged glances for a moment with Matley, but she had the same blank expression as Ash and Angie. Raising my shoulders, I gestured to the glass that we had no idea what he was talking about.
“Warren,” Mars said, “he’s here. He’s talking to Whitfield.”
My mouth opened into an “Oh shit,” but I doubted anyone heard it. I just stood there, essentially watching myself in a mirror. The room fell silent as we all digested the information Mars had dumped on us. It was Dr. Matley who started to act. She moved between the thick plastic sheets, walked to the intercom box on this side of the room, and pressed the button.
“Does he know what we’re doing here?” she asked in a businesslike voice. The speaker cracked, and Mars’s voice filled the room again.
“I think he knows Mags and A
sh are here,” he said. “I spoke with Colonel Cornwell on his way to meet the general and Warren, and he told me they figured out the chopper we used belonged to the base.”
Matley turned to us, a grim expression on her face.
“Then we have to assume he knows,” she said. Without explaining, she moved to one of the stations with a computer. Her arm lifted to wave at someone standing near the door at the other side of the decontamination area. The figure in a biohazard suit shifted into action and stepped inside the decontamination room.
Warren is here was the one thing that kept running through my mind. Warren was here for us. He would finish what he’d started if he captured us.
Angie was the one to snap me out of my haze.
“Get me some clothes,” she almost shouted. I looked at her and then at Ash, who had lost all the color in her face. She watched me with those big eyes as if she had shifted into some sort of trance. She must have been thinking the same as me. I tapped her shoulder and squeezed it. Her eyes shifted into focused.
“Find clothes for Angie, okay,” I said. She lingered for a moment, but then her hands went to the wheels at her side. I helped her pass the plastic sheets and then turned to Angie. Darkness had shifted over her gaze along with a focus that I found somewhat intimidating. Her hand lifted, wriggling her restrained wrist. I got the message and started to undo the straps.
With her arms and legs free, Angie sat up and almost keeled over. I grabbed her underneath a shoulder to steady her. She nodded before she slid off the bed on to unsteady feet. We exited the makeshift room, and I helped her onto a chair close to the station that Dr. Matley occupied. Matley seemed unfazed by the fact I had release Angie from her restrains. She clicked on her keyboard as if her life depended on it. And maybe it wasn’t her life but ours she clicked away at. Ash returned a few moments later with a stack of clothes.
“Where’d you get these so fast?” I asked when she handed them to me.
“There are lockers in a room next to the observation room,” she said. “I had noticed it a couple of days ago.” I smiled at her perception. I handed the stack to Angie, and she sifted through the mostly camouflage covered pants and a couple of black T-shirts.
“Boots,” she said. Ash rolled back and turned. A pair of boots hung by their laces on the handlebars of her chair, and another pair poked out of my backpack.
“You are something,” Angie said, delighted at Ash’s choice of footwear. The first pair were too small, but while the second pair seemed a little big, they would do fine.
I stepped in line with Dr. Matley and watched her work for a moment.
“What are you doing?” I asked. Unsure of what to do, nerves started to creep up on me. If Warren was talking with Whitfield, it would mean we had minutes at the most. We needed a plan.
“I’m copying my work to several portable drives so you can take them,” she said. “We need to make sure this information gets out of this mountain before it falls into the hands of Warren.”
“And take them where?” Angie asked before I could.
“Alaska,” Matley merely replied. I glanced over my shoulder at Angie, but she had the same dumfounded glare I must have had.
“Alaska?” I said questioningly. Matley stopped what she was doing and turned to us.
“You need to get these to Dr. Theodore Chen at the Cancer Center in Anchorage, Alaska. He will know what to do with them.” Matley’s eyes examined us one by one. “There is a plan, based on my assumptions, which Angie proved to be correct,” she said. “I had hoped we would have been able to implement it here, but with Warren inside the base, I doubt we’ll get a chance. Chen will know what to do.”
“Why us?” I asked.
“You are still part of this research,” Matley answered while she locked eyes with Angie, “especially you.”
“And how do you suppose we get ourselves out of this mountain,” Angie said in a cynical manner, “let alone three thousand miles across the country?”
Matley’s gaze turned to the mirror.
“Agent,” she shouted as she pressed a button on her keyboard, “you back there?” The speaker crackled again, and Mars replied, “Yep.”
“Find Sergeant Tyler and tell him we have a code ZS4T. He’ll know what to do.” The speaker crackled again as if his finger hesitated on the button.
“Agent, now!” Matley yelled.
“I’m on it,” he said.
Matley went back to her work at the keyboard. When her large frame shifted without any regard for me, I stepped out of her way. I pulled up a chair and sat down next to Ash. We all looked at each other for a moment, unsure what to do. We couldn’t just sit here waiting for Warren to appear. I glanced outside the room where several soldiers had gathered around the door. The man who had stepped inside the contamination room still occupied the space. He seemed to be waiting for a signal from Matley. For safety reasons, the door to the contamination room could only unlock if the decontamination procedure had cycled from beginning to end. As long as the man inside didn’t initiate the cycle, the door wouldn't open. The soldiers on the other side attempted to start a conversation with the guy, in what looked like an effort to persuade the man to leave the room, but he didn’t budge. I understood then what he was doing. His being in the box kept the soldiers from entering the room and eventually from entering the lab. Matley and this stranger had bought us some time, but where would we go when Warren showed up? Would General Whitfield be able to keep him from us? It seemed somewhat ridiculous to think Warren would wield that kind of power that he’d be able to order a commander in his own base, but I wouldn’t put it past him.
Ash placed her hand on my knee. My foot was bouncing up and down again. I could feel the nerves creep up my limbs, and my throat felt as dry as sandpaper. My hand slipped over Ash’s and squeezed it. She shouldn’t be the one to give support.
Dressed in her borrowed clothes, Angie stood on shaky legs, but it didn’t take her long to get her bearings. She glanced at the entrance and, with her FBI mind, calculated the blue-suited man’s intentions. She turned back with a tight grin on her face. It looked painfully concerned, but still it was a grin.
“What are you thinking?” I asked. Angie didn’t answer. Instead she joined Matley at her table.
“How loyal are Whitfield’s men?” she asked.
Matley didn’t look up from her screen when she answered, “They are military. What do you think? They’d follow their commander to their deaths.”
“But do you think they’d still support him if, let’s say, another body of authority would come into play?” This time Matley did look up to face Angie.
“It would depend on the authority, but I think our chances are good.” With that, she returned to her screen. Angie took in a deep breath and let the air slip past her lips as she glanced around the room. Her eyes didn’t show any evidence of the foggy substance that clouded zombie eyes, and I was glad to see Angie back in her FBI mode. Angie seemed deep in thought before her focus fell on Ash.
“We’ll have to do a little evading,” she said in a tentative voice. “Just like we did in the hospital, remember.” Ash nodded, but kept quiet, which felt out of character for her. But what was there to say? We all knew what was coming next. It wouldn’t be long before soldiers, guns, and Warren would become a recipe for mayhem.
Angie snapped a finger at me. My eyes followed her gaze, and I saw Sergeant Tyler on the other side of the door. He seemed to be calling out orders, and the soldiers standing outside the lab listened intently, while Mars stood by Tyler's side.
Mars distanced himself from the group and moved to the window that separated him from the lab. He waved and gestured for us to get closer.
Angie was the first to move. She went to the window. Mars, whose voice couldn’t breach the glass, gestured at the decontamination room.
“He wants us to come out,” Angie said over her shoulder. I raised my butt of the chair and joined her at the glass. It felt hard to look at Ma
rs so soon after our altercation, but I had to put that aside. He seemed to have similar difficulties because his gaze kept shifting to the floor.
“What do you think?” I asked Angie.
She cocked her head sideways and shrugged. “Not much of a choice.”
Ash still sat at Matley’s side, watching the images on different monitors, I called her to come over, and she pushed her wheels into motion. As she rolled into earshot, I explained what Mars wanted. She glanced at the room and then at the soldiers on the other side.
“But we’re not wearing protective gear,” she said, pointing a thumb in the direction of Dr. Matley. “They wouldn’t let us step outside.” She had a point, but we couldn’t stay here. As if on cue, Dr. Matley came over as well.
“Here,” she said, extending three black plastic sticks as she explained. “Backup drives—you each take one, just in case.” I took hold of one of the stick and inspected it. It was a basic flash drive that could contain about one hundred and twenty-eight gigabytes of data. I wondered if she had to use all its space with the information that might save the world or if it was just one stupid text file. I stuck it in a pocket of my flight suit and zipped it closed. Dr. Matley turned and her biohazard suit squished as she walked to the door of the decontamination room.
“You have to go now,” she said and opened the door. “I’ll follow as soon as possible. I still need to erase the hard drives.”
I sucked in a breath and stepped in line behind Ash. With a little push, I helped her over the threshold. Angie followed, but Dr. Matley stayed behind.
“Good luck,” she said before she closed the door. I watched her for a moment as she returned to her desk. She didn’t even look back.
A white mist fell over us as the decontamination room did its thing. I was a little late sucking in a full breath of air, and my lungs started to burn when the showerheads finally ceased spraying white mist. A red light posted at the door blinked green. The door clicked, and Angie grabbed the handle. As if she couldn’t see the men on the other side of the glass door, she opened it with care.