Oscar stared at Rhys but didn’t reply.
After he’d placed his baseball bat and bag on the floor, Rhys retrieved Oscar’s trousers. A quick check of the controls and he saw they’d passed the fourth floor.
Rhys then turned the trousers inside out and folded them over so one leg lay on top of the other. He pulled them taut and kneeled down. “Push the wound close together.”
When Oscar forced both sides of the deep gash together, dark blood oozed from the wound. The large man shook and breathed heavily as he held it in place.
A look up at Oscar’s sweating face and Rhys nodded. “You ready?”
Oscar nodded back.
Rhys found the cleanest patch on Oscar’s bloody trousers and pressed that against the wound. He then pulled both sides of the trousers around the back of Oscar’s thigh and tied a tight knot.
A glance behind and Rhys saw they’d passed floor number seven.
When he looked back up at Oscar, the big man breathed heavily and his face glistened. “It’ll have to do,” Rhys said. “I think it’ll hold for the time being.”
With a stoic nod, Oscar fell against the lift’s wall.
As the lift continued to rise, Rhys retrieved his bag and bat. He slipped the rucksack on and squirmed beneath the discomfort of it. It sat lopsided on his back, so he tugged on the right strap to adjust the weight of it correctly.
Still out of breath from the exertion of the day, Rhys panted and looked at the lift’s control panel. They’d reached the tenth floor. He removed the map from his top pocket and the wrinkled paper rustled when he unfolded it. The drawing said what it needed to. It left out one important detail, however. It didn’t reveal which room had the controls in it. Oscar would have to believe whatever Rhys told him.
Oscar could clearly see the map over his shoulder, so Rhys lifted it to give him a better look. “When these doors open, we’ll be at the end of a long corridor.” The map shook in his hands and his palms sweated more than before. “The two rooms are at the opposite end,” he cleared his throat and his face burned at the thought of the lie. He couldn’t repeat it again.
Oscar said nothing.
When they passed the twelfth floor, the entire wall in front of them turned white. Rhys squinted against the bright light. It had black letters in the top left-hand corner that read ‘FL15’. “That’s where we’re heading,” Rhys said as he stared at the wall and waited for the screens to show him something more.
An image appeared in front of them and Rhys’ blood ran cold. His tired limbs ached worse than before.
“It looks like we have a welcoming party,” Oscar said. He continued to lean against the wall and his eyes rolled in his head.
They originally looked small on the screen because they’d camped out by some closed doors a distance away, but the rising elevator seemed to pique their curiosity and both of the diseased got to their feet. As one, they charged forward. They bashed into one another and the walls in their attempt to be the first to the lift when the doors opened.
“Those things will be on top of us the second we reach the fifteenth floor.”
Oscar sighed and lifted his axe. He looked like he could barely keep it aloft.
“I’ve got these two,” Rhys said. “You just wait here, yeah?”
Oscar lowered his weapon and didn’t reply.
Rhys turned to the door and readied his bat. His heart hammered an irregular beat as he looked around his confined space. His dry throat pinched when he swallowed. How the fuck was he going to get a good swing at them?
Chapter 20
With his bat raised, Rhys’ arms trembled as he watched the elevator door. Another look to either side and he shook his head. He could barely move in the tight space.
When they stopped at the fifteenth floor, Rhys’ heartbeat ran away from him and his breaths quickened. The rancid tang of the diseased filled the air before the doors opened. Rhys gulped when he heard the ping that announced the chaos about to enter their world.
The crack down the centre of the doors widened, and the diseased groaned louder as their excitement mounted.
With the gap at no more than a couple of inches wide, their two bloated faces pressed into it. Their eyes bulged and they snapped their teeth. One of them poked his tongue out as if the extra inch would get him to his prey sooner.
Rhys sneered; the vile protrusion reminded him of black pudding.
When the door opened wide enough, Rhys jabbed his bat twice through the gap. Each jab connected with the face of one of the diseased and they both stumbled back.
Before they could charge forward again, Rhys jumped out into the corridor.
With more room around him now, he swung for the first diseased. He caught it clean and the thing flopped.
Before Rhys had time to react, the second diseased hit him hard. They both fell to the floor, Rhys on his back and the thing on top of him. Rhys held each end of his bat like a bar and wedged it beneath the creature’s chin. It pulled its skin tight, and forced its face away.
When Rhys glanced behind, he saw Oscar remained in the lift watching. The man looked better than he had moments before, yet he remained rooted to the spot and stared with a cold detachment.
When the diseased shifted on top of Rhys, Rhys adjusted the position of his bat so it remained locked beneath the thing’s chin.
The diseased leaned over and snarled with a phlegmy rattle as it bit at the air between them.
The weight of the thing made Rhys’ arms shake worse than before. No matter how hard he wedged the bat into its neck, it did nothing to subdue the desire with which it tried to attack him. The fucker didn’t seem to care whether it could breathe or not.
Rhys stared into the thing’s dark eyes. A film of blood still coated them, but they didn’t actively bleed like the others. The red trails down its face had dried. It must have been one of the early ones to turn.
Rhys’ arms shook worse than ever as he lost the strength to hold the thing at bay. When he took a deep breath, he inhaled its reek and said, “Oscar, help me please.”
The thing on top of Rhys pushed down more, and Rhys thought about Oscar as he stood back and watched from the lift. He shouldn’t have trusted him. He knew the guy was a psychopath.
The sharp snap of the diseased’s jaws became more frenzied. It clearly sensed it had the advantage. It twisted and shook with renewed vigour. It screamed so loud it hurt Rhys’ ears.
Rhys’ arms gave way a little more. Just centimetres separated him and the rotten bite of the diseased. Rhys turned his face to the side and breathed through his mouth to combat the smell. The heavy, phlegmy rattle of his opponent wheezed in his ear. Its hot and rancid breath turned clammy on the side of Rhys’ face.
A loud thunk that sounded like a dull bell had been struck, and the pressure lifted from Rhys’ arms. The thing fell to the side and Rhys looked up to see Oscar above him. The diseased that had been on top of him cowered; it had taken a heavy blow to the head from the blunt side of Oscar’s axe.
“Yahhhh!” Oscar yelled and drove the axe so hard into the creature’s face, half of the blade disappeared into its nose. Oscar pushed against its head with his boot and ripped his weapon free with a wet squelch.
As Oscar examined his bloody axe, Rhys looked at the dead body next to him. It had a lab coat on. Despite the shake that ran through his exhausted arms, Rhys pushed himself up and rifled through the dead scientist’s pockets.
Within seconds he’d found the guy’s security card. The photo on it matched the man. Rhys looked at the corpse and said, “Thanks, Wilfred, just what we needed.”
When Rhys pushed off against the floor, his arms nearly gave way. His legs buckled as he walked.
Rhys turned to Oscar—the large man covered in a fevered sweat—and said, “Thanks. Thanks for saving me.”
Coldness sat in Oscar’s gaze as he dipped a stoic nod. “It’s okay.”
The long corridor had been separated into sections with sets of doors. It se
emed like each segment served as another area for quarantining the fallout from whatever wicked experiments went on in the labs at the end.
Large windows ran down either wall. Although the doors were at the end, they showed a lab on each side. “So this is it,” Rhys said as he looked from one room to the other. “This is the place where it all started. Rather underwhelming when you’ve seen the severe consequences, wouldn’t you say?”
Oscar didn’t answer. Instead, he held his hand out. “You found a security card. Can I have one?”
Rhys gave him Vicky’s card.
For a second, Oscar stared at it. “This is lower security than the scientist’s one.”
“Is it?”
“You know full well it is. Take the better card, fine, but don’t mug me off.”
Oscar may well have just saved Rhys’ life, but the fucker took his fucking time about it. “Come on,” Rhys said, “let’s do this, yeah?” He walked up to the first security door and swiped his new card through it. The light turned from red to green and the door slid open.
Although he didn’t move at first, when Rhys stepped into the next section of the corridor, Oscar followed him.
Chapter 21
The long corridor had been broken up by four sets of sliding doors. It created five sections that they needed to pass through. “This much precaution to prevent the disease getting out, and it still spread?” Rhys said. He shook his head as he swiped Wilfred’s card through the reader at the second set of doors. They opened with a whoosh.
“You could have given me that card, you know,” Oscar said.
Rhys moved onto the third doors and didn’t reply. When he got to the card reader, he swiped the card and turned to look at Oscar. The tall man grimaced as he walked with a limp.
Rhys waited and looked through the doors. The corridor beyond, a brilliant white, had been splattered with blood. The dark red stood in stark contrast to the sterile walls and floor. Despite the warmth from the hot day, Rhys shivered. The place reminded him of a hospital. No matter how warm the actual buildings were, he always felt cold in hospitals.
“I’ve saved your arse on more than one occasion,” Oscar said when he caught up with Rhys. “So who made you the boss of me?”
“I’m not saying I’m the boss of you. I’m just not giving you this card.” Although Oscar still stood as an imposing form, Rhys had seen the wound on his leg. If it kicked off between them, a quick blow to his thigh and Oscar would go down in a flash.
As they walked to the fourth set of doors, Rhys listened to Oscar’s heavy breaths and staggered steps behind him. Rather than look at him, Rhys looked at the labs on either side of them. The one on the right looked like it hadn’t been used in some time; empty beakers, test tubes, scales, and other scientific equipment sat on the sides. The one on his left, however… “Have you seen this, Oscar? It looks like the place has been turned over.”
“Everywhere looks like it’s been turned over.”
“Yeah, but we’re at ground zero now, aren’t we? Somewhere on this top floor, the virus was created and unleashed.” Rhys looked at the table toppled over in the middle of the room. Two chairs lay on their side as if thrown away from it. One of the worktops had been swiped clean like someone had run an arm across it. Then Rhys looked down and froze.
Oscar walked up next to him. “What’s up?”
Rhys pointed to thick lump of flesh on the floor. “It looks like it’s been cut out of someone on purpose.”
“It has been cut out of someone on purpose.”
Rhys gasped and turned to the pale man. “How do you know?”
“It’s a steak, Rhys, and that someone’s a cow. Jesus, what’s wrong with you? Are you fucking new or something?”
Rhys looked at it again. “They must have used that to start this hot mess. I bet the steak was infected and someone was tricked into eating it.”
“So what if they were? What does it matter now?” Oscar said. “It’s happened; some scientists played god and it backfired on them. Fuck, it backfired on all of us.”
A look at his watch and Rhys said, “We’re down to nearly two hours left. You’re right; we don’t have time to worry about where it’s come from.”
At the final door, Rhys swiped his card—the card that belonged to him now, and would always belong to him regardless of what Oscar said—through the reader. He stepped through and Oscar limped after him. The tall man needed Rhys more than he needed him now.
“You may not be saying you’re the boss of me, Rhys, but you’re showing it by not giving me that card.”
Rhys ignored Oscar and looked at the two rooms in front of them. For a crude and quick rendering, Vicky’s representation of the corridor was functionally accurate. A set of double doors led to each room—in one of those rooms sat the computer that could free the city.
Each set of doors had large handles that needed to be pulled to be opened. The small windows on the front of each didn’t reveal much of the room beyond. It was a good job, really. If Oscar found out about Rhys’ lie too early…
Rhys throat dried again, but before he could say anything, Oscar barged into him on his way past.
Rhys rubbed his shoulder where Oscar had collided with him and watched him head for the room on the right. The large man pulled the doors wide and marched straight in.
Rhys slowed down as he waited for the doors to close. The second they did, he slid his baseball bat through the two handles. He watched through the small windows as Oscar, oblivious to what he’d just done, spun on the spot to look at the room.
As he walked back to the door, he shook his head at Rhys. “There’s nothing in here.” The doors muffled his voice. “It must be the room next—” When he pushed the doors, they moved only slightly before the aluminium bat snapped tight and rattled against the handles. Oscar looked down and his face fell loose when he saw the bat. His cheeks glowed red and his eyes widened. “What’s going on, Rhys? What are you doing?”
Despite the physical barrier between them, a surge of adrenaline hit Rhys. He shook and stepped back a pace. His voice wavered. “There’s something about you that I don’t trust.”
The larger man turned a deeper shade of red, bit down on his lip, and shoved the doors. The bat snapped tight again. Spittle sprayed the window when he pressed his face into it. “Let me the fuck out of here. I mean it, Rhys.”
Rhys shook his head. “There’s nothing in that room of any use. The only reason I told you there was is because I didn’t trust giving you all of the information. It looks like that was a good idea from the way you just barged through. It’s the room on the left where all the controls are.”
The baseball bat rattled again as Oscar kicked the doors. He stopped to take a deep breath. The action had clearly hurt him. “This isn’t funny, let me the fuck out!”
Rhys shook his head again.
The anger turned into desperation when Oscar threw his arms up in the air. “But I’ve saved your arse so many times. Were it not for me, you’d have been infected a long fucking time ago.”
“You saved me because it gave you what you needed, not because you wanted to save me. Although, I’ve yet to work out what your angle is. Do you want to tell me now, Oscar? If that’s what your name is.”
“What the fuck’s that supposed to mean?”
Rhys didn’t reply.
“Look, I don’t have an angle.”
“Bullshit! You talked about a brother whose name and building number you couldn’t remember.” He pointed at Oscar. “Don’t think I didn’t notice when you gave me a different building number for him the second time around.”
Oscar glared at Rhys.
“You didn’t want to go and see him to give him a heads up on what’s going to happen—that ain’t right. You used Vicky’s name, yet I’ve never mentioned it before. You watched the diseased attack me in the corridor—”
“I intervened.”
“At the last minute. And you fight like a fucking Marine. Somethi
ng’s going on with you and I have too many things riding on this to let you fuck it all up. Too many people I hold dear are relying on me to get this right.”
Oscar’s eyes narrowed and he lowered his voice. “Maybe you should think twice about who you hold dear.”
“Like who?”
“Like Vicky. What are you doing leaving that lunatic with your child?”
“What the fuck do you know?”
Calmness settled over Oscar’s features. It sent an icy chill through Rhys. “Let me out and I’ll tell you a little story about our friend Vicky. And trust me, Rhys, if she had my child with her, I’d want this information too.”
Chapter 22
Rhys turned away from Oscar and went into the room on the left. He’d had enough of the man’s bullshit.
The two rooms had a thick window between them, and although Rhys could still hear Oscar as he walked up to the main control computer, he chose not to look at him.
“You’re making a mistake, Rhys.”
When Rhys touched the screen, it came to life and prompted him to insert a security card.
“Vicky’s bad news; trust me.”
Rhys spun around and stared at the man. About the same width as the brick wall it nestled in, the window between them looked like it could withstand a lot more than even someone as big as Oscar could give it. “That’s the thing, mate. I don’t trust you. That’s our problem, isn’t it?”
Rhys looked at the graphic on the screen that explained the card was being read before he looked across at Oscar again. The man paced like a tormented dog. Rage twisted his features as if his fury intended to writhe free of his body.
A button appeared on the screen that asked Rhys to press it if he wanted to deactivate the defence system. He pressed it. It then gave him three choices—the shutters, the order to incinerate, or both.
The window that separated Rhys and Oscar made a bass boom as Oscar banged against it. “You need to turn the order to incinerate off.” With wide eyes, Oscar jabbed his finger in the direction of the computer. “I’m being serious, Rhys, turn it off.”
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