by M. K. Dawn
He opened the first door to his right. It was cracked just enough so the lock hadn’t caught. Again, his fingers twitched, longing for his sidearm.
“Hello?” he called into the spacious room. It was almost identical to that of the common folks—rocky walls and wood furniture—except it was about three times the size and had a full-size kitchen. He doubted any of them cooked. Then again, they were never seen in the dining hall either. He always assumed their food was brought down, but after seeing the kitchen, he considered that maybe they had a personal chef. A detail not important in this moment, but playing the scenarios in his head helped keep his mind off other, more frightening things.
Archer checked the rooms, starting with the study and then bathroom. Both were empty. As were the living areas. On to the bedroom. He gave a quick rap on the door. “Hello? It’s Colonel Archer.”
No one responded. He gave the door one more courtesy tap then turned the handle. The room smelled like a hospital during lunch. Food and disinfectant mingled together. He did his best to control his gag reflex. It reminded him of the time when his mother was ill. The countless days and nights he spent cooped up in that tiny room by her side, her hand in his as she slowly faded away.
He pushed the memory aside and ventured in. The room had an eerie, twilight look to it; there was just enough light to make out the bed and the slight rise and fall of a rumpled comforter.
“Hello,” he said again, not wanting to startle the man. He crept closer. “It’s Lee Archer. I’ve heard there’s an epidemic on this floor and I’ve come to check on you. Find out what happened.”
The body stirred but didn’t reply. Every nerve within Archer screamed for him to back away. It was what he expected when entering an unknown situation without a weapon.
He ignored the warning and pushed forward. It was imperative he find out what had happened here. “Sir, if you can hear me, please respond.”
The body moved again, followed by a deep groan. The hairs on the back of Archer’s neck prickled. His eyes darted around the room in search of anything he could use as a weapon. There wasn’t much: a lamp on the table next to the bed and A pair of shoes and discarded clothes scattered about. Nothing that would protect him if the person lying in this bed was no longer human.
Another moan filled the room followed by the distinctive snap of a jaw. It was all he needed to hear. Slowly, Archer began to retreat towards the door hoping to not attract the attention of the…monster…alien—the infected—that lay before him.
As he reached the handle, a faint voice called his name.
He was about to blame it on his imagination when the he heard it again.
Maybe the man had not turned after all. Not yet, anyway. Archer hurried to the side of the bed—the side where the lamp sat. If all else failed, he could smack the thing on the head a few times. Disorient it enough to get away.
When he peered down at the man under the covers, his knees almost gave out. Skin pale close to the point of being see-through. Black-filled eyes open but unseeing. He was nearly unrecognizable. Archer almost convinced himself he was not who he thought he was.
That was until the man spoke. “Son?”
***
Archer sank onto the bed and watched his father drift in and out of consciousness. He’d held on to his hatred for the man for so long, he almost forgot how much he loved him. To see him like this—even after all the horrid things he had done—it hurt more than Archer wanted to admit.
Davis swallowed and stretched his jaw. He was regaining consciousness. Archer wasn’t sure if that was a good or bad thing. Or what his father might be when he awoke.
“Did they…?” Davis rasped.
“Did they what?”
“Lock…down,” he managed to get out.
There was no reason to lie. “No.”
“Es…ca…pe,” Davis stuttered.
Archer’s heart pounded in his ears. “Who escaped?”
“Dead.” Davis’ black eyes rolled and his breathing slowed until the rising of his chest ceased.
The pain was almost too much for Archer to bear, but there wasn’t time to grieve, so he buried it. Save it for another day in which the entire world was not crumbling around them. If that ever came.
Archer rose from the bed and stared down at his father. Soon he would become the thing he’d worked so hard to hide from the rest of the world. The merciful thing would be to put him down before he came back, but Archer had nothing—not even a few extra minutes to spare to search for a knife in the kitchen. If what he understood his father to say was true, then they were on the verge off a full-blown outbreak.
But how? What dead escaped?
Archer flew out of the room, ensuring the doors were locked behind him. That way his father—or the monster he was about to become—wouldn’t be able to escape. Or so he hoped.
“Operations!” he screamed into his wristband as he rounded the other end of the hall. There were more people he needed to check on. See if there were any survivors. Anyone on the verge of changing.
“Operations,” the familiar voice echoed back.
“Wu!” Archer couldn’t contain the alarm in his voice. “I’m on the execs’ floor.”
“Hope you brought your Lysol. Heard there’s a nasty epidemic going around.” A couple of people snickered in the background.
“Take me off the damn speaker,” Archer snapped.
The line clicked and it was just the two of them. “What the hell, Archer? I was just messing—”
“Have you seen the video of the surface mission?”
Wu hesitated. “We weren’t allowed access to that video. It was cut just as Jones was attacked by that rabid animal.”
“So you don’t know the truth?”
“Truth about what? What’s going on?”
“I just came from my father’s room. He’s been bitten by something...” Archer hesitated, unsure how to explain. “Something very dangerous. Wasn’t able to say much. Asked about the lockdown and said they escaped.”
Wu took so long to reply, Archer thought he might have to repeat himself. “Is this some kind of joke?”
“I wish it was.” The next hall Archer sprinted down was empty. Either it was rarely used or everyone who normally occupied it had left.
“Like I told the execs, we can’t put The Bunker under full lockdown.” Wu’s voice was barely a whisper.
“You’ve done it before. After we learned the truth.”
“Oh, that.” Wu chuckled. “We didn’t actually do a lockdown. Can you imagine if there was an emergency? A fire or something and only military personnel could open the doors? It would be mass hysteria.”
“It’ll be mass hysteria if they start getting attacked by monsters,” Archer snapped as he glanced through each door he ran past.
“What do you mean monsters?”
Archer came to an abrupt stop at the final door. “Holy shit.” It was like something out of an old horror movie. One in which the monster escaped. On the back wall was a set of wrought-iron cages. Each was unlocked, doors wide open. Destroyed medical equipment was scattered about the room. Gurneys were toppled over. But the worst was the blood. It was splattered on the cavern walls and floor like an abstract painting. There was no way this much blood had come from only one person. Not even two. Maybe the whole medical staff. The problem was, there were no bodies. Where the hell did they all go?
“Archer! What’s happening?”
“What was done with the Jones and Martinez’s bodies?” It was a question he was certain he knew the answer to but he needed to hear it out loud.
“I can’t…can’t say.”
“I’m standing in the execs’ Goddamn secret laboratory,” Archer screamed.
“Then why the hell are you asking?” Wu fired back.
Archer tried to catch his breath. “Steven. Listen to me. There’s no one here. The cages are open. Blood everywhere. Do you hear me? No one is here.”
“What?” Wu mumbled. �
�That’s impossible.”
“They’ve escaped.”
“Who? The dead men?” His tone was a mixture of fear and disbelief.
“Authorize the lockdown, Wu.”
“No,” Wu said. “You’re talking nonsense.”
“You have no idea what’s out there and what they’re capable of! They’re wandering the halls and will kill whoever they come in contact with.”
“If what you’re saying is true and there’s some kind of rabid animal on the loose,” Wu’s voice was thick, “full lockdown would only make things worse. People would be trapped with no way out.”
Archer hadn’t thought of that. “What do you suggest?”
“High alert. Send everyone to their rooms. Then we can hunt down whatever it is you say is loose.”
Archer wanted to scream at him that this wasn’t a damn safari. What roamed the halls was deadlier than any animal he’d ever seen. But at least Wu was coming around. He might not understand the severity of the situation, but high alert would buy them time to find those who’d been infected.
But what would they do with all those who had yet to change?
***
Archer had ordered Wu to sound the high alert alarm. It would go off for a full fifteen minutes before any announcement could be made—not that an announcement was needed. The high alert drill was practiced as often as the fire drill was. Everyone should have known to go directly to their rooms and wait for their instructions to be dismissed.
Did it always happen so smoothly? No. There were always those few who ignored the drill; stayed put to continue to do whatever it was they deemed more important at the time. Sloan was one of those people. Fortunately, she was already on their floor, which was closer to their room than she had even been during a drill. He’d give her a few minutes; after the announcement was made he’d check on her. Then he would badger her until she did what she was told. He didn’t think it would take much. No doubt the truth would scare her into compliance.
It didn’t take long for Archer to rejoin Private Aguilar. It would have taken half the time if he didn’t stop at each door he passed to ensure they were locked. He didn’t know how intelligent the monsters…aliens…infected—no word seemed to fit—were, but he hoped they didn’t understand how to use a doorknob.
“Colonel.” Aguilar saluted. “I’ve gathered everyone from this floor and separated them as requested.”
“Thanks. Which room are the sick in?”
“There were no sick, man. All must have helluva good immune systems.”
Archer covered his mouth with a trembling hand. “Are you sure?”
“Ya. There was a dozen who’d been bitten.”
The relief Archer had felt a split second ago dwindled. “Were some sick?”
“Nah. They all felt fine.”
“Are you sure? No flu-like symptoms?”
“Just pissed off they got bit.” Aguilar chuckled.
Guess you had to be there. “Where are they now?”
“Sent them to medical to get checked out.”
“Everyone else?”
Aguilar pointed to the flashing red light. “Emergency drill. They all headed for their rooms.”
“Head that way yourself.”
“Why?” Aguilar’s brow furrowed. “Man, soldiers don’t participate. We run checks.”
Three more minutes left before the announcement. “This one’s different. Yearly—” Archer hesitated as he thought up a lie. “It’s the yearly emergency drill in which everyone participates.”
“I’ve never heard of that. Is it new?”
Aguilar was a smart kid. Top of his class. A go-getter who didn’t need much in the way of direction. He also loved to question everything. Always wanted to make sure he had the full picture before proceeding.
“I’ve got to get to medical. Check on the bite victims.”
His eyes narrowed. “What’s the deal with all this, man? This ain’t normal.”
“Walk the halls, Private,” Archer ordered as he headed for the elevators. “Make sure everyone is heading for their rooms. Contact me at once if you see anything out of the norm.”
“Out of the norm, how?” Aguilar asked.
As the elevators closed, Archer yelled back, “You’ll know.”
***
The medical floor was bursting at the seams. Lines stretched down the hall as people waited their turn to be seen by a doctor. There was lots of talk about an outbreak. The flu was the top ailment on the list. Others—who just happened to be exiting the same room—spoke of food poisoning. Maybe some kind of hallucinogenic mushroom accidentally grown and cooked in last night’s spaghetti—a conspiracy theory so crazy only one person he knew could have thought it up.
“Travis.” Archer entered the exam room just as a patient—one who appeared well—walked out. “Heard some of your handiwork out there.”
“Hey.” Dr. Morrison raised his hands in defense. “It’s more plausible than hallucinating while sick with the flu.”
The man wasn’t wrong. “Seen any patients with bite marks?”
“The better question would be have I seen anyone without bite marks.” Morrison removed his gloves and threw them in the trash. “Why do you ask?”
“A Private of mine sent about a dozen people up here from the execs’ floor. All bitten by the execs while they…hallucinated.”
Travis’ flinched his head back ever so slightly. “Why did you hesitate?”
Archer was taken aback by the doctor’s observation skills. “It was unintentional.”
“That’s unlikely. You know something we don’t?”
“Did you see any of them?”
Travis thought for a minute. “A few of them. Why?”
“Where they sick?”
“They came to me because of a bite. Why would they be sick?”
This is one of the reasons he and Travis weren’t close friends. “Answer the damn question.”
“None presented any other symptoms aside from the bite mark.”
Archer pressed his palms to his eyes. That was good news. “How about the sick? What did they have to say? Were they bitten?”
Travis leaned against the wall, arms crossed. “Again, since there’s no correlation, it wasn’t asked.”
“The sick. They didn’t mention getting bitten?”
“Colonel, I feel like we’re spinning in circles. What’s going on?”
Was it possible they had two different outbreaks happening simultaneously? An actual illness and those bitten by the infected? If you were here to seek treatment and were bitten by a monster, you would mention it. More than likely you’d be running down the hall screaming. Or you’d be lying somewhere dead until the change took place. The biting? Could it all just be one huge coincidence? Maybe Travis was right. It could be food poisoning from some unknown, toxic plant. “Nothing too serious, apparently.”
Travis snapped on a new pair of gloves. “Doesn’t appear that way. You know, with the emergency lights and all.”
Archer ignored him. “I need to check on Sloan.”
“Surprised she’s not here. We got an all hands-on deck summons.”
“She went to check on Fletcher,” Archer said matter-of-factly though inside he was on the verge of a panic attack. After a year with nothing but a couple of random surgeries, one would think Sloan would be anxious to get back into the swing of things. Not that he believed for a second Sloan considered the examination of bite marks anything other than busy work, but it had to be better than nothing. “I’m sure she’ll be here any minute.”
“Doesn’t matter much. Most people have been told to return to their rooms if their symptoms aren’t serious. You know, due to the non-emergency.”
Archer’s gaze flickered upward. He was about ten seconds away from losing his shit with the snide doctor. It had already been one hell of a day and it wasn’t even noon. “I’ll be in the hall if anything changes.”
Travis waved him off and yelled for the next
patient. He passed the sickly man who was held up by his shoulders with the help of two others who didn’t look well themselves. For a split second Archer considered stopping the men to ask a few questions, but thought better of it. The more questions he asked the more suspicious people would become. Before he knew it, The Bunker would be engulfed in panic. People would demand answers. Then in dawned on him. Who would be the ones to provide those answers? All the execs had fallen ill—including the President. Which meant there was a possibility they were all infected. He would need to confirm, of course; once everyone was secure in their rooms. But if were true? Who the hell was going to run the place?
First thing’s first. “Egan, Sloan? Where are you?”
A loud thump resonated through his wristband. Metal whined. Then a brief pause followed by what sounded like banging. “Hurry up! Hurry up! Hurry up!” Sloan screamed.
He’d never heard such fear in her voice. Thousands of images of all the horrible things she could be facing flashed through his mind. “Sloan! What’s happening?”
“I…I…”
Shit! Shit! Shit! Archer’s heart raced. What the hell was going on? Why couldn’t she answer him? Where was the man he’d sent in his place to protect her? “Where’s Russo?”
No answer. Just uncontrollable whimpering. Archer hurried to the closest panel and swiped his wrist. “Find Egan, Sloan.”
“Elevator one,” the mechanical voice said. “Floor nine.”
“Override elevator one. Level twelve,” Archer said then rushed towards the elevator on the first hall. It took ages for it to arrive. Each second that ticked by felt like an hour. The tightness in his chest grew like an overinflated balloon ready to pop.
Finally, the elevator doors opened, but the sight of Sloan didn’t provide him much relief. She was cowered in the corner, arms wrapped around her knees, which were pulled close to her chest. Her entire body trembled, eyes bulging. He couldn’t be sure, but he swore she hadn’t blinked once since he spotted her.
He took a few small steps towards her. “Slash? What happened?”
She didn’t seem to notice he was there. Shock. He turned around and thought about all those people in the hall. Sloan would hate for any of them—her colleagues especially—to see her in such a dire state.
