by M. K. Dawn
“I would say wait here,” Archer eyed the monsters, “but I have a feeling it won’t take long for them to find a way in.”
Sloan’s eyes widened as much as they could in her current state. “How?”
“By accident. If one of them happens to still have their tracker and the right clearance.”
“Wonderful,” she murmured.
Archer wrapped his arms under hers and heaved her to her feet. “Do you think you can walk?”
Her body quivered and she swayed. “Yep.”
“I can see that.” He caught her just before she collapsed. Her skin was cool, clammy—much more than before. He scooped her into his arms. To his surprise, she didn’t argue.
“We need to find the first aid station. There should be a…what is it called? Shot. For allergies.”
“An EpiPen?”
“That…yes.” Her thoughts were becoming jumbled.
He carried Sloan down the hall with a gun in his hand, ready to fire. This hall—the main headquarters for operations—might have been secure from both ends, but that didn’t mean there weren’t any infected roaming about. The men and women who ran The Bunker were known for their relentless work ethic; they would have to be on their deathbed before they called in sick. Even then, he had seen Wu on several occasions at his desk with a vomit bucket by his side, working late into the evening to ensure everything was running at one hundred percent. Body aches—no matter how severe—wouldn’t have kept him from doing his job.
“Wouldn’t happen to know the exact location of the first aid station, would ya, Slash?”
She rubbed her forehead. “What?”
“Never mind.” He slipped open the door to an office and peered in. The room was empty. Thank God. And against the back wall was a large cabinet with that beautiful red X. “Found it!”
“What?” she asked as he laid her on the sofa.
“You said you needed an EpiPen?”
Her eyes were all but closed, her head heavy. He rushed to her side, first aid kit in hand. “Slash!”
She startled. “I’m awake.”
Archer rummaged through the cabinet, pulling out gaze and alcohol pads until he came across the EpiPen. “I found it.”
Her eyes had closed again.
“Sloan?” He shook her, needing to confirm she wanted the shot; he didn’t want to make things worse. “Sloan?” He shook her again, this time a bit rougher.
Her eyes fluttered but there was no response. What she needed was rest and medical treatment—neither of which they had time for. The infected were growing more agitated by the minute, if the sounds coming from the hall were any indication.
He thought back to his medical training. As a Ranger it was part of the Big Five Philosophy, along with marksmanship, physical training, small-unit training, and mobility. An EpiPen was epinephrine. Epinephrine was adrenalin, which was something Sloan could definitely use. It wouldn’t last too long, but it should give them enough time to get the code, which was just across the hall, and get the hell out. If it worked and didn’t make her worse.
Archer spent a couple of seconds weighing his options then said screw it.
“Sloan, I’m going to unbutton and pull down your jeans so I can give you the shot,” he explained out loud even though she was unconscious. Although he’d seen her naked and this was considered a medical emergency, he still felt like a bit of a creeper, pulling down the pants of an unconscious woman.
He ripped open an alcohol pad and cleaned the area where the needle would go in. “Okay. You’re going to feel a little pinch.” He popped the blue cap off, jabbed it into her thigh, and held it there for several seconds. Once the treatment was given, he massaged the area and waited. It shouldn’t take long for her to wake. He hoped she wouldn’t have any bad side effects.
Thirty seconds later, Sloan jolted awake. “What happened?”
“Stay still. I injected you with an EpiPen.”
“Why would you do that?” she yelled.
That was not the reaction he was expecting. “You pretty much told me to?”
“When I was in shock?” She sat up and snatched an alcohol pad and began to clean the wound on her wrist. “Why are my pants down?”
“So I could give you the injection in your thigh.”
“The EpiPen is designed to push through a layer of clothing,” she snapped. “Hand me that gauze. And I need tape.”
Archer handed her what she needed and glanced at the door. “Can I help you? We really need to get moving.” The infected had quieted down and he wasn’t sure why. He didn’t want to sit in this room for much longer and find out.
Sloan’s hand shook as she wiped away what remained of the blood from her wrist. “I can do it.”
“I know you can. Doesn’t mean you couldn’t use a hand.”
“Please, Archer.” Sweat trickled down the sides of her face. “Just give me a moment. The medication…the side-effects can be unpleasant. I need space. Breathing room. Please.”
“Okay.” Archer backed off and stood helplessly by the door watching Sloan struggle to wrap the bandage. “I’ll be right over here if you need anything.”
***
Ten minutes later, they were out the door and making their way across the hall. The infected had disappeared. Turned out that was more terrifying than them trying to break through the invisible barrier. At least then he knew their location.
Sloan was still pissed at him about the injection (apparently, irritability was a side effect), but he stood by his decision. Unlike before, she was now able to walk without him having to carry her, which would allow them to get the hell out of there in half the time.
Still, Archer could tell she wasn’t feeling well no matter how much she insisted the side effects of the EpiPen weren’t severe. Her skin was still pale and her hands continued to shake. A few times she had dry-heaved and by the way she squinted, he knew either her eyes or head were bothering her. None she would admitted to.
“I need to make sure the room is clear.” Because of its top-secret nature, there wasn’t a window in the door so he could look inside.
Sloan scanned the length of the hall. “We should go in together.”
“I can’t protect you if the room has been overrun.”
She deactivated the safety of her pistol—the pistol she insisted on having back even though he wasn’t quite sure she was in the right state of mind. “I don’t need to be protected.”
“No offense, but you froze the last time we encountered a group of the infected. Almost got yourself bitten.”
She rotated her injured wrist. “It won’t happen again.”
“Slash—”
“Open the door, Archer. Let’s get this over with before I lose what little strength I have left.”
“Fine. Stay behind me and stay close.” He turned the handle as softly as he could and listened. “I don’t hear anything.”
Sloan bit her lip, her eyes darting back and forth down the halls. He wasn’t even sure she’d heard what he said.
“Slash?”
She whipped her head in his direction. “What?”
“Ready?”
She nodded almost frantically.
“Keep your gun down unless there’s something to shoot at. Got it?” Her hands were trembling to the point he was afraid she might accidentally pull the trigger.
“Yes.”
Archer pushed open the door ready to shoot at anything that attacked, but the room was empty. The only thing he saw were the three rows of control consoles—modeled after NASA—where they manned the entire Bunker. He couldn’t believe their luck. “Let’s grab the code and get the hell out of here.”
Sloan kept a firm hand on her gun, eyes bouncing all over the place.
“You okay, Slash?”
Tears trickled down her cheeks. “The rational part of my brain keeps telling me it’s the side effects of the injection—my nerves—but the other side is pleading with me to flee. That something bad is about
to happen.”
He knew something was up. “We’re going to get out of here just as soon as we get the code. Can you calm down enough to help me access it?”
Sloan nodded. “What do I do?”
Archer rushed to the main control panel. A large switch that looked more like a key protruded from the table. “This is one of the keys.” He then hurried to the cabinet on the far end of the wall. “In here there’s a briefcase which contains the code.” He rummaged through and found what he was looking for. It was the only thing tethered to the cabinet itself. This was done for a few reasons. One: so the case wouldn’t disappear. Two: so a single person couldn’t retrieve the code. The decision to unlock the doors was one the designers did not take lightly. “We stick the second key in this lock. Turn them at the same time and the case opens.”
“That sounds easy enough,” she said, then cocked her head. “Where’s the second key?”
Where was the second key? Wu had told him once, when he first started.
“You don’t know?” Sloan asked.
“I do. Just give me a second.” Then it hit him. “The office!”
Sloan frowned. “The one we just came from?”
“No. There’s another.” Archer pointed to the wall behind him. “Through that door, right there. I’ll pop in and grab it real fast.” As soon as he turned the handle, a horde of infected rushed the door. “Shit!” he screamed, slamming it shut.
“More of them?” Sloan whimpered.
“The good news is they’re contained.”
“But the key’s in there!” she shouted.
“Another bit of good news: I found it.”
“What do you mean, you found it?”
Archer was trying to stay positive. Keep Sloan from panicking even further. “It’s around the neck of one of the infected.” Wu, if Archer had to guess. Maybe operations had made the decision to open the doors and they were ambushed. Not that it mattered much now. They were still locked inside The Bunker, the only way out was hanging around the neck of a monster hell-bent on killing them.
“Is there another way? Maybe take the same exit you used to go on the mission?”
“I don’t know how to open the hatch. The only sure way to escape is through the main entrance. And to do that, we have to use the two-code system.”
Sloan stuffed a trembling hand into her pocket. “How?”
“I have a plan. It’s not going to be easy, but I think it will work.”
“What?”
“You’re going to stand behind the office door. When I give you the signal, you’ll open it. Let a few in and close the door again. I can take a couple down at a time. You’ll be protected behind the door.”
Sloan’s mouth went slack. “Are you out of your mind? There’s no way that will work!”
“It’s either this, or go back to the dining hall and come up with a plan as to how to stay in The Bunker.”
“I can’t do this!”
He hurried to her side to provide comfort and help guide her into place. “All you’re doing is opening and closing the door. You can handle that.”
“What if they overpower me and I can’t close it?”
Archer didn’t want to think of that outcome. “They’re not crammed in there too tight. Let’s give it a try, see what happens.”
“Okay.” Sloan gripped the handle. “On the count of three?”
Archer lifted his gun, ready to fire. “One…two…three.”
Sloan opened the door about halfway and braced herself. One wriggled its way in. Archer gave it a good ten steps before he fired. Last thing he needed was for the dead to block the door. Then a second came through, then the third.
It was working out perfectly, just as he envisioned until two managed to squeeze by. Followed by four more. “Close the door!”
“I’m trying! They’re pushing back.”
Archer succeeded in taking two down, but the others came at him with such speed he couldn’t get a good aim. He fired off a couple rounds, hitting one in the shoulder and another in the thigh. The stray bullets did little to slow them down.
The first one to reach Archer knocked him off his feet. As it dove for his neck, Archer managed to get a couple of rounds into its chest.
The second he never saw coming. It landed on him with such force, it knocked the air right out of this lunges. He was lucky it didn’t knock him unconscious.
The two remaining—the two that he’d hit—found his legs. Archer kicked wildly while holding the other at bay with his forearms in the hopes that their lack of sight and his erratic movements would prevent them from biting.
They scratched as they fought to grab hold of their prey. Hot blood dampened his skin. His strength was beginning to falter and chances were more had made their way inside.
Then came the sound of gunfire. One shot after another. The two at his legs fell dead and the one on top of him paused long enough for Archer to push it aside. Another three bullets were fired before he could make it to his feet.
“I got the door closed,” Sloan said as she offered him her free hand. “But I think I’m out of bullets.”
Archer slumped forward in an attempt to catch his breath. “We have more clips.”
“Good, because I don’t think the door’s going to hold them much longer.”
“Then we should go.”
“What about the code?” she asked.
“No way in hell we’re trying that again.”
Sloan smiled and knelt beside the bodies. “We don’t have to.”
Archer couldn’t believe his eyes. “Is that—”
“The key?” She removed it from around Wu’s—or what used to be Wu—neck. “I think so.”
“Grab the case.”
She rushed over and inserted the key. “Ready!”
“Three, two, one.” They both turned their keys and the case popped open.
“This is it?” Sloan cried. “A laminated paper with a number?”
“Yep,” Archer snatched it out of her hand. “I’m going to call Smith and tell them we’re on our way.”
“Wait. There’s a box in this cabinet with our phones.”
“Slash, we don’t have time for this!”
“Here’s mine!” She stuffed it into her back pocket.
Archer rolled his eyes. “Missing Candy Crush?”
Sloan slammed the cabinet door. “All my family photos are on this phone.”
He felt like an ass. “Sloan, I’m so—”
“Archer!” Smith’s voice rang through his wristband.
“Smith!” he yelled back. “What’s wrong?”
“They’ve broken through the fish tank.” Gunshots filled the air. “We’re heading for the elevator. Meet you at the entrance.”
Just then, the doors of the office broke free. Archer grabbed Sloan’s hand. “Time to go!”
They raced out of the room and to their right, away from the elevators. No way was he going back that way without knowing what became of the others.
Behind them, what remained of the horde followed. They were fast but not quite fast enough to catch up.
When they reached the end of the hall, Archer made a sharp left, scanned his wrist, and pulled Sloan through the archway. He hoped the invisible barrier held the infected back as the other one had.
“I don’t want to risk the elevators,” he yelled back at her. “We’ll take the stairs located in hall five.”
“Archer,” Sloan gasped. “I don’t…too fast.”
The adrenaline must have been wearing off. “We’re almost there.”
Out of nowhere, a group of infected came up behind them. They must have been somewhere down hall four. Archer pulled out his gun and began to fire.
Sloan stumbled, yanked her hand out of his, and grabbed her second gun firing at one nipping at her heels.
Dozens of shots rang out from his gun and hers. Infected after infected fell but it didn’t seem to make a dent in the numbers; more and more joined the pursui
t.
Inches from the stairwell, Archer holstered his gun. He flung open the door, shoved Sloan inside along with his self, and threw the lock. It wouldn’t hold them for long but it would give them a head start.
“Come on, Slash.” He helped her to her feet. “We have to keep moving.”
Sloan glanced upward. “How many…how many flights?”
“Fourteen. But don’t think about how many we have to go, just focus on the next step. One is easy.”
“But over time they add up.”
The door behind them rattled and shuddered. One more hit like that… “Sloan. Run!”
They took the stairs two at a time. Round and round they went. Six flights up and the door finally gave way. The infected howled and charged.
The bandage on Sloan’s wrist was soaked and blood dripped down her fingertips. Each step she took ended with a sway. She wasn’t going to make it.
Archer wrapped an arm around her waist. “Come on, honey. We’ve got to keep moving.”
Four more flights and the infected had almost closed the gap.
Sloan had nothing left to give. She was all but passed out, head bouncing off his shoulder with every step he took.
He paused for a second, threw her over his shoulder, and continued to sprint up the stairs. It was mind over matter, he told himself. One foot in front of the other.
Behind him, the monsters drew closer. He could smell them now—death mixed with blood.
His legs were spent. His back burned but he refused to give up.
They were on his heels now. Clawing at his feet. He braced himself for the impact that was sure to come.
“Archer!” A voice called from above. “Get down.”
He dropped to his knees just as a rapid succession of gunshot ricocheted off the walls of the stairwell.
Before he had a chance to gather his bearings, Smith was alongside him. “Give her to me, Colonel,” she screamed over the commotion.
“Go, go, go,” Brizzi ordered as he continued to fire his semiautomatic.
They reached the top of the stairs, closed and sealed the door. Thank God Archer had the foresight to install locks on either side.
“You have the code?” Smith asked as she laid Sloan on the ground.
