Zombie World (Zombie Apocalypse #3)
Page 45
The lights are all off, leaving the windowless halls darkened corridors of horror. We run through them, our boots echoing uncomfortably loud against the harsh stillness in the facility. We pause for a second at a junction in the halls, and Aaron looks at me. “Sam! Where are we going?”
I flip through the instructions Dr. Richards gave us, scanning the pages as fast as I can by the light of Aaron’s pocket flashlight. “Left,” I say. “Then we take a right at the next junction, and we find room number twenty-seven. The machine we need should be inside there. We just have to power it up and read his instructions carefully. We only have one shot at this. If we screw up, that’s it.”
“Alright, stay together and keep your eyes open. We don’t wanna lose anyone in this place.”
Chad takes his position at the front of our group, while Roberts falls behind, bringing up the rear in case we get cut off. As the navigator, I keep close to Aaron as we make our way through the halls. When we round the first turn, a gunshot goes off and we stop short. Our pathway is blocked off by more than a dozen zombies, and they all turn their attention on us. The halls are too narrow to let everyone spread out and take their shots, meaning we’re going to have to rely on those closest to the front of the group to take them out.
Unfortunately, I’m one of the ones closest to the front.
The zombies advance on us, and Chad pulls the trigger again and again. One more zombie drops, but the second just staggers as his shoulder jerks back from the impact. Aaron fires, and the wounded zombie drops to the ground, unmoving. The rest of them are on us, and I bring my weapon up. My heart is racing in my chest and my blood pounds like a drum in between my ears, creating a roar that blocks out everything except the harsh sound of my breathing.
I pull the trigger and my hand jerks from the force of the shot, but a zombie drops. Three more drop to the ground courtesy of Chad and Aaron, and I take out an eighth. Only four left; Chad takes out two of them with relative ease, leaving the last two for me and Aaron while he reloads. Mine is too close to take the time to aim, so I just scream in anger and hatred, swinging my weapon up before bringing it back down like a hammer, slamming into the zombie’s skull. It drops to the ground at my feet but reaches out for my jeans with chipped and bloody fingernails.
I plant my foot on her chest and shove her to the ground. Before she can get up, I bring my foot up and stomp on her skull. My boots crunch the bone, and a second and third hit reduce her head to nothing but a pile of mush. I give her one more good stomp and she goes still beneath me. Once all of the zombies are dead, everything comes back into focus.
I gasp for air, struggling to calm my breathing. I’m dangerously close to hyperventilating. A hand on my shoulder makes me jump and I nearly scream, but it’s just Madison. Her eyes are wide and full of concern. “Sam, are you okay?” Her voice is soft and quiet, like she’s worried to even ask.
The others are staring at me as if I’ve just given birth right here in the middle of the hall. My throat is paper dry and I can’t find the words to reassure her, so I just nod my head and hope it convinces her. I look to Aaron and gesture down the hall. He shakes his head. “Uh, yeah. Let’s get going. There could be more of them.”
And he’s right. Down the next hallway, there are five more zombies waiting for us. We rush them, taking them by surprise. Three are dead before they even register our presence, and I take out another one with the handle of my gun, shoving him against the wall and bashing his head in until there’s nothing left of his face. Blood splatters the wall and myself with each swing of my arm, and I can feel it sticking to my neck and face.
Once they’re all dead, we quickly search the hall for room number twenty-seven. It’s the second to last door on the left hand side, but the door is locked. We don’t have time to try and pick it even though I know Todd knows how, so Aaron uses his shoulder and forces his way in, breaking the frame apart and shattering the glass in the window. The pieces tinkle as they hit the floor, and we step over them, coming to a stop in a tiny room that’s surprisingly empty except for a sink and one machine against the back wall, along with a small table and an odd looking machine atop it.
“Block the door in case anything tries to get in,” Aaron orders. “I’ll help Sam figure out the machine.”
Allen, Chad, and Roberts close the door as best as they can, using their combined body weight to keep it shut. I see Todd and Madison pitch in, and I hope the five of them can manage to keep the door closed while we get this done. Turning my attention back to the machine, I quickly find the start button as labeled on Dr. Richards’ diagram in his notes. I almost jump for joy when the machine whirs to life, but the noise is definitely going to attract attention.
I go through the notes, making sure to read every step more than once. Thankfully Dr. Richards thought ahead and used layman’s terms to explain it all so any of us could understand him—even if he did include a condescending note about our intelligence in the side margins. While I familiarize myself with the instructions, Aaron takes the box containing the cure and waits as patiently as he can beside me.
A zombie throws itself at the door and I jump. More hands pound against the door, and I hear a gun go off. Of course, Aaron had to break the door open to get us into the room and the glass broke with it. A quick glance over my shoulder shows two bloody pairs of arms trying to reach for Madison’s hair. Todd rams the end of his shotgun through the empty door window, grunting with the effort. I can’t worry about Madison now though; I have to trust that Todd will take care of her while I get this done.
“Okay, there should be a small red button on the left side, right beside the monitor.” I move around Aaron and locate it, hidden behind the outside metal edge of the large screen. Pressing the button pops open a small glass compartment in the middle of the machine, just beneath the blank screen. Inside the small compartment is a tray with a slot that is going to perfectly fit the vial. “Take the vial, leave the top on, and place it upright in the tray.”
Aaron hurries to do as I say, and when we’re sure the vial is set, I move on to the next stop. “Press the red button again to close the compartment.” He reaches around and taps it, and the vial is sealed away into the machine, which awaits our next move. The directions say to pull open the keyboard and hit the enter button once, and as I tap the button, the screen lights up and a green line blinks at the top of the screen, waiting for me to input something.
“Dr. Richards wrote down a really complicated kind of algorithm that’s supposed to tell the machine exactly what to do with the cure. I’ll reach it out loud and you type it out, but don’t hit enter when you’re done. We’ll go through it a second time to make sure we didn’t mess up. Okay?”
“Got it,” he says, trading me places.
I start reading off the long list of numbers and symbols. Before we get far, another shot goes off, and I hear the door slam shut. I don’t know how many are out there waiting in that hall, but they’re trying to force the door open! I quickly glance at the brightly lit screen to find out where I left off, and then find my place in Dr. Richards’ notes. I continue to read off the numbers and symbols to Aaron, and he diligently taps away at the keys, not falling behind for a second. When I get to the end, I let Aaron know again not to press the enter button.
As we start the second read through, a third shot goes off, this time a loud blast from Todd’s shotgun. I hear the blood splatter and it gets my heart racing even faster, but I clamp down on my emotions and focus on the numbers and symbols that nearly blur together on the page. When I get to the end of the algorithm a second time without either of us catching any mistakes, I nod. “Hit enter.”
Aaron presses the key harshly, and we both wait with abated breath for anything to happen. Without warning, the screen dims and the machine begins to make a loud whirring noise that makes me want to cover my ears with my hands, but I can’t get my arms to move. So I just cringe and grit my teeth against the noise while the machine does its thing. It quiet
s down for a second and I hear something click.
A needle punctures the thick plastic cap on the vial with a pop that makes me jump again. The liquid is sucked up from the vial through a clear tube, and it disappears into the machine. I can’t see what’s happening, but it sounds like an espresso machine, or maybe a sauna—like something is being turned from a liquid into a steam. And then the machine lights up again, and it begins to whir as if it’s about to explode into a thousand fiery pieces.
The algorithm on the screen disappears, and something else takes its place. A bunch of sequences flash across it, all too rapidly for me to follow. What I do catch looks like some kind of blueprints, perhaps for the serum that we introduced? I’m sure that one tiny vial isn’t enough to create enough of the cure to heal everyone in the country, so maybe it’s going to make more of it?
As I think it, Madison shouts, “There’s a light on in the room across the hall! The one next to it, too. Are they all turning on?”
The hallway fills with the sound of other machines whirring to life, so loud it drowns out the moaning from the zombies just outside the door. Our machine comes to life again, and a cloud of mist travels up a see-through pipe and into the ductwork above us. Soon, the room is enveloped in a thick mist that clings to our skin and clothes, soaking them to our bodies. It burns mildly and our skin begins to turn red at the point of contact, but other than that, nothing happens to us. We don’t start to cough or get light-headed or drop to the ground. It just passes through the room and out the window, spilling into the hallway. There isn’t much of it yet, but more is being made by the machine by the moment, and I can hear it hissing as it travels through the ducts.
The zombies in the hallway miraculously go silent. While we wait for something else to happen, I look through the rest of Dr. Richards’ notes and find something interesting towards the end. “According to this, this facility is the head of the department, so to speak. Everything can be controlled by this facility, and it’s linked up to several others across the country at varying checkpoints. When we activated this one machine and started things, it connected to the other ones and passed on the data we inputted. The other facilities, even though they’re unmanned right now, are rapidly creating the serum and are beginning to spread it.”
Madison smiles. “Then we did it?”
“Guys, there’s a lot more mist pouring into the hallways from the other rooms,” Todd says, peering out the broken window.
“It’s outside, too,” Aaron says, glancing out a small hidden window in the corner. “It looks like there are vents on the roof, and it’s coming out in thick clouds. I can’t believe how much of it there is. It’s already enveloping the entire block!”
We all rush to the window, taking turns to get a look at the outside. Zombies are dropping to the ground like flies, no longer moving. I move away from the window, letting Madison and Allen get a better look at the outside world. While the others are busy celebrating, I slide down the wall, crumpling to the ground. I can’t get rid of the smile on my face or the lightness in my heart, and I can feel it bubbling up in my chest. Before I can stop myself, I start to laugh, and soon the others are joining in.
You’re coming back to me, Ryder. I just know it. We made it all the way here, thanks to you…
The sound of static fills the room, and I glance over at the forgotten table. A second glance at the odd machine perched on it tells me it’s some kind of radio, just much more high tech than anything I’ve ever seen in my life. This is probably advanced military issue, not something the average every day soldier gets their hands on. While the others are celebrating, I get to my feet and head over to the table. Roberts notices and follows along closely behind me, his focus solely on the radio.
There’s a microphone in front of it, and a light on the box is blinking red. “Someone wants to talk to you,” Roberts says quietly.
“What do I do?”
“Here.” He flips a switch and the light turns a steady green color. Immediately, a crystal clear voice comes through.
“Dr. Richards?” a heavily accented voice asks. “Dr. Richards, come in.”
“Hold down this button to talk, and when you’re done, let go so he can answer back,” Roberts guides me.
I hit the button and my finger nearly slips with excitement. “Dr. Richards is gone. He died not too long ago.” I let go of the button.
“Who am I speaking to?”
“My name is Sam. We were assisting Dr. Richards while he tried to find a cure. He succeeded and passed it on to us before he died. We returned to his facility here in Detroit, and it’s already spreading throughout the entire city. Soon the entire country will be cured.”
I let go of the button in time to hear what sounds like a prayer in a language I don’t understand. I finally place the accent as French and wonder how I didn’t get it right away. It’s one of the most distinctive accents in the world, in my opinion, and I even have French in my family. “It works?”
“Yes,” I say immediately. “We tested it before he passed it off to us, and we have a reanimated girl in our group. She stayed behind while we made this trip, but she’s very much alive and human again.”
“Side effects?” he asks, his voice going serious again as he slides into scientist mode.
“PTSD,” I say, trying not to think about Hannah’s violent reaction that cost us Reese. “Severe anger issues in some people, and suicidal thoughts. We learned from the first subject that they retain some of the memories of what they did while….dead. It was too much for him, and after a violent outburst, he took his own life. The second patient had a PTSD episode that ended badly, but she’s recovered. Time might be all she needs to make a full recovery. And we don’t know yet if these side effects will happen with everyone brought back, or if they’ll be rare.”
“I see,” he says. “I have more questions to ask of you, starting with the serum Dr. Richards created. Repeat it to me so we can begin working on it as well. Don’t worry about anything else—I’ll pass this new information on to the other surviving regions.”
“There are others?” I ask, my eyes going wide and a smile breaking out across my face. “Where? Who?”
“There are a couple of us here in France that have held on, as well as many more in Japan. The largest group is surviving in England. But there are also surviving scientists in Israel, Australia, Finland, and Canada. I’m sure there are others, but this is a good start for now.”
“So many,” I say breathlessly.
“Yes, and we’ve all been waiting for this. Read me off the data and I will see to it the others get it as well. Once we’ve restored order we can begin devising a plan to get it to the rest of the world that doesn’t have our resources.”
Roberts runs and grabs the notes and hands them to me. I read through the pages over and over again, making sure this man gets every bit of data he needs to be successful in making their own cure. As I read, I can’t keep the giddiness out of my voice, and I smile as I finish reading off the last page. The man thanks me for my information and the radio goes dead in my hand. Even as I set the notes down, I can’t stop smiling.
Roberts nudges me. “Come on. The others are going outside to see what’s going on. We should fill them in on what just happened.”
I nod and grab the notes again, just in case we ever have need of them again. I tuck them into my coat pocket and zip it up so it doesn’t fall out or get wet, and Roberts and I follow the others outside. They’re all walking slowly, as if in some kind of trance, or if they were zombies themselves! We step over the unresponsive zombies on the front steps and head out to the street. I have to fight the urge to go looking for Ryder, screaming his name until he answers. But if these guys aren’t up yet, he won’t be either.
While everyone looks around in wonder, I share the news with them. When I’m finished telling them just how many other places still have hope, Aaron jumps for joy, shouting at the top of his lungs. Todd picks Madison up off her feet and sw
ings her around, kissing her as she laughs. Allen, Chad, and Roberts all watch with smiles on their faces as they clap one another on the back.
While they continue to celebrate, Aaron comes over to me, a wide smile on his face, making him look younger than he has been recently. “We did it,” he says, sounding in total awe. He laughs once. “I can’t believe it. We actually did it!”
“Yeah, we did,” I say, looking down the street. Even though the zombies are all unresponsive and no longer a threat to us, the city and most of the world is still in ruins, and the cure won’t change that. “Everything won’t go back to the way it was—I’m not sure if it ever will—but we have a fighting chance now. A fresh start.”
He puts a hand on my shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. “Ryder is going to be okay,” he says. “He’s a strong guy, probably one of the strongest I’ve ever met. He’ll pull through whatever obstacles are in store for him. He’s got you to help him.”
I nod. Ryder, I hope you know I’ll wait for you. No matter how long it takes, I’ll wait for you to find me again. Then I’ll help you get better. I promise…
Epilogue
Two months later.
Marvin screams, spit flying from his lips as he swings wildly at Allen. He knocks another man to the ground before he can get out of the way, and he steps on his back, vaulting off him and leaping at Allen. He slams into Allen’s chest and drags him down to the ground with a startled shout. Before any of us can even react, he sinks his teeth into Allen’s shoulder, tearing through the flesh. Allen grunts as blood wells up and spills down the front of his chest, staining his white shirt red.
Chad and Roberts are there in a heartbeat, dragging a kicking and screaming Marvin away from Allen. I kneel down beside him, pressing a wad of clean napkins to the bleeding wound while trying to ignore the terrified whispers around the room. Thankfully the wound doesn’t look too bad, but I’m sure it can’t feel very pleasant. Allen hisses in pain as I press the napkins harder against his chest, trying to stem the flow of blood.