It had been one of the group that had been recently attacked, drawn to the area by the commotion, and it made a beeline for him once it had recognized him for what he was. It was over six feet tall and close to three hundred pounds, but it was no longer hampered by poor conditioning or health. It operated on pure rage. It collided into him with such force that it knocked him two feet off the ground and into the side of a parked van. He hit it so hard it broke three ribs and cut a huge gash across his forehead. He hit the ground and rolled over on his back, arching it in pain, but before he could even attempt to get up the creature pounced on him, crushing him under its weight, snapping his spine and clamping his neck with its teeth like a wild animal, thrashing back and forth as it crushed his larynx and ripped out a chunk of his Adam’s apple. It lifted its head and shrieked in triumph.
Paul Turchett, the last car to turn the corner, smiled bitterly as he pictured Brad Wilson running hopelessly after them down the street. He hadn’t mentioned it to anyone else. Fuck him. He would get what he deserved.
CHAPTER THREE
The infected started moving in unison as dawn prepared to slice through the cover of night. Travis Rogers looked cautiously around him. He crouched down and began to move silently after the horde, scanning regularly to make sure there were no stragglers that could warn of his presence or attack.
He was staying a good fifty yards behind them. His nerves tingled with adrenaline and his lungs began expanding with exertion from the hunt. He was carrying a backpack loaded with explosives and extra ammunition and he felt its weight in his legs and back.
Tornado cellars and deep underground basements had made this part of the Country harder to decimate by the initial terrorist attacks, but subsequent discoveries of life by the infected meant an almost constant supply of new soldiers to the army of undead. It kept their numbers fresh and fast moving.
As he entered the beginning of an industrial park, he slowed his pace, glancing furtively around. There were more places to hide in this area, and he needed to be aware of his surroundings. The area itself looked like a bombed out war zone, and he was careful not to step on anything that might give his position away.
He spent more time watching his footing than the whereabouts of the infected, however, and after a couple of minutes realized that he was all alone in the middle of the street. He stopped abruptly, dumbfounded as to how they could have disappeared so quickly. He felt the first stab of panic as he heard a moan come from close behind him.
“There shouldn’t be anyone behind me,” he thought out loud, barely above a whisper, turning to see the source of the noise. Coming up no more than twenty feet behind him were a half-dozen infected.
Travis felt his heart jump as he turned to run, then noticed at least ten more coming out of various places in front. “They set me up,” he yelled, shocked. As his mind processed that thought, a more dire realization sent needles down his spine. “Oh my God, they’re evolving,” he said as he scanned quickly for an escape route.
They were working together like a pack, herding him through blind instinct, a collective voice that had no real intelligence or thought. He quickly searched for an open space to run. He saw a building a half-a-block away with a high chain link fence and bolted towards it, glancing up at the sky, wishing daylight would come faster to send the mob into hiding.
There were two ahead that he would have to get around, and he could feel his knees go weak as they erupted in rage at his approach. He pointed his rifle at the first one and fired two pops at its chest, huge holes blowing its body apart. It flew backward, landing on the ground hard, then struggled to right itself as he passed. The second one was fast approaching and on a direct collision course. Its eyes bulged with fury, its shrieks a storm of murderous intent, and Travis screamed as they were about to collide.
He fired a round off almost directly into its face and its head burst in an explosion of tissue and blood. He tried to turn his face as he rammed its headless torso with his body, knocking it over, and he fell to one knee as wet splatters of blood splashed upon his cheek and neck. His heart pounded with fear of infection as he struggled to get back up, and he raced to the foot of the fence. He leapt as high upon it as he could, ready to climb, when he noticed for the first time the razor wire running across the top.
“No!” he yelled in panic as he dropped back to the ground, turning to see them rapidly closing, their teeth chattering in anticipation.
He took off along the fence line, frantically looking for a way in, any way in, when he noticed the gate at the end of the fence line. He could see the large lock hanging on the end of a thick metal chain, and he began blasting at it as he approached.
The second shot hit it and it shattered into metal fragments. The shrieks behind him grew in volume as he stopped to rip at the chain that held the gate shut. He whipped it out of the way, throwing open the gate as they rushed upon him, barely closing it before they crashed into it with savage force.
For a split-second he locked eyes with the monsters on the other side, almost wetting himself as their crazed and hellish faces contorted with rage and they fought to get at him. He let go of the gate and bolted towards the building inside, screaming an obscenity as they thrust open the gate and started after him. He came to a door and tugged on it, but it was locked as well.
“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me!” he yelled as he raised the rifle again and blasted a hole through the locking mechanism. He flung the door open and ran inside, slamming it shut hard behind him and stopping for a brief moment to examine the interior before the door flew open and they were after him once again.
It was some type of manufacturing plant, with huge metal bins scattered throughout and large mixing kettles with pallets of raw materials stacked everywhere. Complex overhead piping snaked throughout the length of the building, with overhead cranes, stairways, and catwalks all over. Travis dodged around the metal bins and canisters with the infected trailing close behind, concentrating on his path, scared that he would run into a dead end or get turned around.
To add to the confusion the infected’s shrieks bounced and echoed in the confined quarters, and to Travis it sounded as if they were everywhere, all at once, and he began to panic. He dodged around a large mixing kettle and came to two large, swinging double doors. He hit them hard and they opened, revealing another large room with two huge open tanks, six feet high and running the length of the room, about fifty feet long. In between them was thick piping running from one tank to the next. There was no room to run between them.
On either side of the room was a narrow metal staircase that led up to a grated catwalk, running ten feet above the tanks, bolted to the wall, and running the full distance of the tanks with a single railing for support.
“Shit!” Travis screamed as the infected barreled through the double doors and he bolted towards the left staircase. Bounding up the stairs three at a time he quickly reached the top and grabbed the single metal rail, pulling hard and propelling himself forward.
The infected were directly behind him. His heart raced as their shrieks echoed about the room and pounded in his ears. His legs felt weak from the effort and the intense rage that trailed a few feet behind. In the middle of the tanks the catwalk split, running straight to the end or cutting at a 90 degree angle across the middle of the tanks to the other side.
Exhaustion was slowing him down with the weight of the backpack and his lack of exercise. Sweat poured off him as he reached the middle split and felt a frantic hand grabbing a hold of his backpack.
“No!” He reached for the catwalk railing that cut across the tanks with his free hand and swung onto it full force, crashing against the railing on the other side. He ignored the pain in his side from the impact and took off again. He briefly caught sight of the liquid inside the tanks, a clear fluid that looked like thick water.
The infected crashed into each other trying to stop, knocking three over the railing. They plummeted into the liquid with a splash
and disappeared from view. As the others started giving chase Travis turned and fired his last round into the head of the nearest one. It crumpled onto the catwalk and the first four trailing infected tripped over the body, hurling headlong into the vat.
With a brief separation between himself and the remaining infected, Travis ran harder as the pain grew more intense, running down his entire back and down his legs. He didn’t stop. He had a second wind as the thought of freedom became a deeper reality. He flew off the catwalk at the other end, sailing down the stairs and crashing hard on the floor below. He looked back from the ground and then rose and took off again, running through several different large rooms with different types of heavy machinery, before he found a door leading back outside. After a hundred yards of running full speed across the industrial complex, he looked back and realized he’d lost them. He fell down from exhaustion and said his first prayer in several years.
Inside the manufacturing plant, something strange began to occur. The toxin that had been released had been perfected with the use of amino acids foreign to earth, extracted from a meteor knows as “The Murchison Stone,” that landed in Australia in 1969. The amino acids had originated from the DNA of alien insect larvae, a parasitic anthropoid that had become trapped inside the meteor by freezing gases.
The manufacturing facility specialized in animal feed products, and the liquid vat was processing a special feed that contained high doses of the synthetic growth hormone melengesterol acetate, along with specialized proteins and antibiotics to rapidly increase weight gain for cattle. The factory was operating way over industry standard limits and was privately selling thousands of pounds of the product to Russian farmers for lucrative and substantial profits.
The liquid inside the vat began reacting with the foreign alien proteins, and neurons of electricity began immediately rapid firing through the dead brains of the infected. The undead were being reborn on a different level. Tiny antennal sensilla that had developed on their taste buds with the initial exposure to the toxin exploded, stimulating their brain to react in frenzied response to the substance. They gulped the liquid voraciously underwater, triggering a degenerative pathological change in their structure.
Their flesh began bubbling rapidly as it quickly stored oxygen to adapt to the liquid environment, and with renewed life came renewed pain. The bubbles swelled and pulsed all over their bodies and faces until they formed huge breathing pustules, and the infected thrashed about in torment. Their cells and tissues began differentiating as the foreign neurotransmitters continued to fire electrical messages through their host bodies. Pieces of skin began flaking off their pulsing flesh and floating to the top of the vat. They convulsed once again, as violently and radically as they had when they had first received the toxin, and a new transformation began its course, like the changing of a maggot to a fly.
Growing deathly still, they gave up their resistance, sinking to the bottom of the vat, and in the quiet of the manufacturing plant an ominous and monstrous metamorphosis was birthed. Seven infected hosts twitched and squirmed as internal changes began to map their course towards a new stage of being.
CHAPTER FOUR
Five hours later the small band of survivors entered the outskirts of Sacramento. They'd traveled less than a hundred miles. At this rate it would take close to a month to reach their destination. Stressed and tired, they took the first exit and drove slowly through the streets, wary of being back off the freeway. They spotted a Motel 6 on the side of the road and scanned the area. "It looks desolate'" said Mace. "I saw a Safeway a few blocks back. If we stop here I could make a run with Shawn and Jim while everyone gets settled in. If it’s still got anything on its shelves, we could end up in decent shape.”
Mace pulled into the motel parking lot and the caravan followed, slotting into the surrounding parking spaces. Everyone exited their vehicles, stretching and yawning as they carefully checked out their surroundings.
"Hell of a start," said Shawn, walking up slowly behind Mace as he looked around. "Did you see that Safeway back there?"
"You read my mind. You want to make a run while they get settled in?"
"Sounds like a plan. Just let me get Jim and the big gun," Shawn said as he headed back towards the truck. "Take your ride?"
"Yeah."
The 4 x 4 was loaded with gas cans.
"I'm going to check the office for the keys." Jade said quietly as Shawn left.
"I'll help," said Lisa. "After what we went through today I want to get inside as soon as possible." Chelsea clung to her leg, nervously looking around.
Looking at the motel, Mace said, "Let's set up on the second floor. It will give us a good vantage point of the immediate area."
Everyone heard a gasp as the Turchett's exited their vehicle. Stuck inside the top of their front bumper was the decomposed hand and arm of an infected. It had been ripped off its body when Paul had run it over. It had grabbed for the bumper but had been so far decayed that the force of the hit tore it apart. Paul stared at it blankly.
"They're just going to die off," he said matter-of-fact.
Jacqueline walked up to look at it. "How does something die off that is already dead?" she said, not diverting her eyes from the grotesque stump.
"I don't know," said Paul, unusually calm as he pointed at it. "But look at that damned thing!" He walked up to it and used his foot to push it off the bumper. It slid off and he did a little Willie dance as it plopped on the ground.
"Gross," said Melissa, staring with repulsion at it. She was filled with hatred for all things infected. She walked over and gave it a hard kick, sending it flying into the street. A few fingers fell off as it skidded across the asphalt. "Bastards," she said softly and bitterly to herself.
Noreen pulled up beside her and put her arm around her, trying to comfort her. "It's okay'" she said.
Melissa snapped at her, pulling away. "No it's not! Nothing is okay! Don't you get it. My life is ruined! There is nothing to look forward to!"
"Don't talk to your mother that way!" barked Paul and everyone began pulling away as the bickering grew and continued.
"Here we go again," said Jacqueline, rolling her eyes as she headed towards the motel.
Jade found the main set of hotel keys and unlocked enough doors for everyone. As she entered her own room she fought the depression that threatened to sideline her by the room’s lonely condition. The former occupants had obviously left in a hurry, leaving the room in complete disarray. The bed was unmade with dirty clothes all over the floor. Dust and cobwebs covered everything and a few scampering cockroaches let her know that she wasn't entirely alone. She sat down on the bed for a second before reclining all the way. She was thoroughly exhausted.
As the three men sat in the motel parking lot, they began discussing what they’d need. They had raided all the camping stores around the hospital before they'd left and had plenty of emergency rations and dried food, as well as propane camping stoves and propane lanterns.
“What did we lose from the other vehicles?” Mace asked.
Shawn had a somber look as he said, “Bottled water and some canned goods, plus the toilet paper and feminine hygiene products.”
“No weapons or ammo?”
“Nope, we’re good there. But I think I’d rather be out weapons than tampons.”
They all laughed. “Can’t wipe your ass with a bullet, either,” said Jim reflectively.
“I know. I got shot in the ass and it doesn’t stop shit,” Mace said, chuckling at the word play. Mace had taken a bullet to the rear in a gunfight with the teenage gang. His smile faded for a second as he thought of his mentor, Father McCann, laughing at him propped up on a hospital bed with his butt exposed. The gang had killed Father McCann soon afterwards. Mace missed him.
Shawn was still laughing. “If only you’d had a tampon when you got shot in the ass. Could have helped stop the bleeding if inserted properly.”
They all cracked up at that one.
&nbs
p; The other man in their party, Paul, who had worked as an installer for Comcast, came running down the stairs. The stress of this new way of life was tearing his family apart and he wanted a break from the bickering of his wife and daughter. He had forced the move to start fresh somewhere else. He hadn’t decided how far they were going, only that if they didn’t do something soon they would end up killing each other, and there were already far too few people left alive. His biggest problem was that he couldn’t see his own involvement. It was always everyone else’s fault.
He grabbed the rear door handle and slipped inside the back seat with a cigarette dangling out of his mouth. He bumped Jim over with a smile as he entered, and the cigarette began bobbing in his mouth as he talked. “If I don’t get out of there for awhile somebody’s gonna get killed.”
The laughter stopped and the car grew quiet for a second. None of them were particularly fond of Paul or the incessant arguing that took place around him. As Paul pulled the Marlboro out of his mouth Mace turned around and shook his head. “Sorry, Paul, no smoking in the car. Second hand smoke and all.” He winked at Shawn.
Paul looked agitated as he fumbled with the electric car window, finally lowering it enough to flick the cigarette out the window. “End of the fuckin’ world and I still can’t smoke in a goddamn car.”
They drove in silence with their inner radar on high as they approached the grocery store. None of them noticed the sniper hunched down, watching them from the roof. As they entered the store parking lot the sniper swung a rifle over the edge, lining it up with their vehicle.
From behind them, somewhere on the street, several shots rang out as another clap of gunfire could be heard from above.
THE VALUE OF JADE (Mace of the Apocalypse #2) Page 4
