I walk to the elevator control panel, switch off the emergency override, and hit the down arrow. The carriage comes back to life and begins its journey downward.
“Wha . . . what are you doing?” Walter asks with a shaky tone. “We can’t go down there. There are too many infected all over the damn place. We need to go up and get the hell out of here. You might have a death wish, but I barely made it out of there in one piece and I’m not going back!”
Way to show a backbone. You’ll need to keep it attached to make it the rest of the way.
Walter turns and goes for the emergency stop button, but I’m already two steps ahead of him. Christ, I wasn’t born yesterday. I snatch Walter’s scruffy white lab coat collar and flip him around, grabbing him by the throat and slamming him hard against the elevator door. I lift him off his feet, my face stone cold and my black eyes peering deep into his soul. The terror that instantly fills his eyes does little to ease my taut grip, my fingers clenched over his windpipe.
“I’m going down, not up. You’re coming with me. Whether you’re alive or dead is up to you. Got me?”
Walter nods his head in an obedient manner. My hand opens and drops him to his feet. He’s bent over, coughing, hacking with his hands on his knees. I scoop up my gear and pull a clip from the side pocket. I remove the Glock from behind me and eject the empty mag.
Walter’s face hurtles toward the floor. “The damn thing wasn’t even loaded?”
“Nope.”
I reload and slip the pack on as the elevator dings to ground zero, filling the quiet cabin. Walter stands erect and reaches for his throat, my fingers etched into his sweaty skin.
The door opens partially, showing a black void with brief sparks of light igniting off in the distance. I don’t hear anything stirring, but that really doesn’t mean much.
“I wouldn’t stand that close.”
Walter looks at me with a peculiar stare, eyes creased and mouth ajar like he’s regressed into one of those things. I gingerly point to the opening as Walter follows my invisible line reference to the black space beside him. He peers back at me and takes a step forward, a look of pure shock and horror instantly filling his face as something grabs his leg and trips him.
“Help me!” Walter screams as he is yanked back through the opening, his feeble arms catching both sides of the elevator doors.
I grab his wrist, pulling and tugging as he continues to yell at me. Whatever has him is strong as hell and pulls Walter free of my grasp, his body vanishing into the black hall. A final scream of pain seals his fate.
I told you Walter, you wouldn’t make it out.
17
Silence fills my ears again. No footsteps, shrills, or moans from the dead, or whatever abomination is running loose down here. I knock out the lights inside the elevator and slowly drop to my knees, the darkness from outside taking hold of the carriage and giving me some sort of cover. I make sure to keep my distance from the opening as I place my head low to the ground and peer out, my eyes instantly adjusting.
I don’t see anything. There’s debris everywhere and more exposed wires hanging like vines from the ceiling, but no dead or soldiers visible. So what the hell nabbed Walter?
The last thing I wanted to do is play hide- and-go-seek with any of the infected, but I guess I don’t have a choice in the matter. Across the way, past the apparent trap, is my way down to S-2. For once, I would like a scenario that didn’t involve me possibly getting eaten. I’m just saying.
I get back to my feet and move to the side of the opening, my Glock clutched tightly in my hand as I kneel down and try to look below the carriage. A massive puddle of what I can only guess to be Walters’s blood is spread all over. I can’t spot his more than likely mutilated body, but I do see the dark tinted blood being dragged off towards a hole in the wall.
With no dead in visible sight and my sensitive ears picking up nothing, I cautiously slip down through the opening and hit the ground. Oddly enough, I can now hear something scurrying about, moving within the rubble that is everywhere. Or maybe I’m just imagining it. Who knows? What I do know is that I need to make it across here quick, fast, and in a hurry to get to S-2.
I’ve got both of my hands clutched on my Glock, every muscle fiber taut and poised for whatever may come at me. I start to walk forward, cautiously peering in all directions, wishing I had grown eyes in the back of my head. Would have come in handy right about now. One foot in front of the other, I train the Glock at every little nook and cranny as busted concrete and other odds and ends crunch under my boots.
I know you’re in here and that you’re watching me. Show your ugly fucking face already so I can blow it off!
The fine hairs on the back of my neck sprint to attention and a chill of something behind me sends a warning down my spine. My legs throw me around to nothing trailing in my wake. Standing there, my eyes and Glock in sync looking over everything, I pick up the faintest noise directly behind me. If that didn’t give it away, then the fowl stench of its rotting body would have been a clear indicator.
I tumble forward end over end as I feel the breeze of its claws barely skim the back of my neck. My feet hit the ground and I spin around, squeezing off two perfectly placed rounds that find their mark in the creature’s forehead as it lunges for me. It falls to the ground hard and motionless, the walnut sized holes in its head oozing that thick, pasty looking blood.
I stand fully erect and lower my Glock to the floor, cautiously walking towards the mutated thing. I know its dead, but I don’t want to be that fool that just rushes in. I slightly nudge its flesh-deprived arm, finding no response. I take a deep breath and peer ahead, finding the door that leads onto S-2.
I step around the dead creature and head for the door, making it halfway through the dilapidated corridor before something grabs my pack from behind and rips me backwards. It throws me against part of the wall that is busted up, the air escaping my lungs as a piece of rebar impales my upper right thigh. No pain; just more of that dead sensation that registers to my brain that something has ripped into my body. nerves must be completely gone now.
I place my hands on the wall and try to push forward, lifting my right leg up to try and free it from the jagged piece of metal protruding out of the discolored meat. Out of the corner of my right eye I spot something massive running towards me. Its mouth is immense and open for business, rows upon rows of knife-like teeth gleaming in the flickers of light. It’s the biggest thing I’ve come across while being here. It’s fast, strong, and I’m willing to bet it’s got a hollow leg to fill up with humanish meat.
It slams its giant cleaver-like palm around my throat and lifts me off the ground, my leg freed from the rebar that has chunks of my flesh dangling from its rusted edges. It snarls and huffs, blowing sticky strings of spit and whatever bacteria that is probably festering inside its meat grinder of a mouth at me. It has no visible eyes and the flesh from its nose is gone, leaving nothing more than the bone showing through the rough and tattered skin draping down over its head. A blank canvas of bruised and torn flesh. The other no-pulse walkers I’ve killed have looked like hell, but this abomination takes the cake ten times over.
It shrills loudly and grips my throat even tighter, reeling me in with its muscular tree-trunk arm that has pieces of bone shooting out in every direction. I grab a handful of its bone from its shoulder, breaking it off and jabbing it in the side of its neckish area. It lets out a roar as it reaches for the reddish caked bone with its free hand, blood oozing out and down its deformed body.
I try to break free from its hold, slamming my elbow down on its arm repeatedly and kicking it in the stomach.
It flicks its wrist and hurls me across the room like an unwanted toy, my battered and beaten body slamming hard against some metal pipes that dislodge from the wall and start hissing. The fumes hit my nose immediately.
Gas.
I cough and gag from the pungent odor, my eyes locking ont
o the abomination that is trying to get a beat on me once again. It removed the bone jetting out from its neck, the thick blood bubbling and dropping to the floor in clumps.
I peer over my shoulder and find the exit, a stupid and crazy thought manifesting inside my throbbing head. I’ll probably die, but it can’t be any worse than the situation I’m currently in.
I reach back to my pack and remove one of the flares, holding it tightly as I get to my feet and make a beeline for the exit. It shrills loudly, and runs after me. The fumes haven’t made it this far yet, the smell dissipating as I leave the scene. I pop the top to the flare and toss it back towards the puncture. The sparks spewing from the top grab hold of the gas and ignite, creating a thunderous explosion that shakes the very ground. A heat wave engulfs the room, incinerating everything, including my dead admirer.
My feet crest the exit when the shockwave from the blast overtakes me and slingshots me forward, my ass cooking at one billion degrees until nicely done. I hit the ground hard and tumble into a wall, ash and parts of the building raining down upon my scorched skull. My ears ring and I can smell my flesh burning.
I lay there for a few minutes, trying to regain my composure. I try to open my eyes all the way but can’t. Slightly slit apart, the flames fill my vision along with various white coats and soldiers closing in on me, weapons drawn and the faint sound of chatter filling my ringing ears as I pass out.
So much for sneaking in. Shit.
18
You’re almost there, baby. Hold tight and keep strong. You’re getting so close. Whatever you do, don’t give up. Soon, we’ll be together.
The sound of my Becky is driving me to push through the madness and keep going. Even if it looks like I’m screwed, I put on a smile and hit it head on. There’s too much riding on this to give up now. Unless I’m dead . . . well, let me rephrase. Unless rigor mortis has set in, then I keep moving on.
I start to come to, disoriented and flat on my back. Some bright ass light glares in my face like it’s giving me the third degree. I lift my arms up to block the intense beam, but fail. Both my wrists are shackled and my movement is limited. I try to move my legs, but they’re restrained as well. I tilt my head to the left and find a metallic tray filled with medical tools that are used for only one thing—dissecting.
I spot a couple of faceless lab coats walking around me, the light blurring my vision as they write on clipboards. Tubes and other wires run from my body to various machines, the repetitive beeping getting on my last damn nerve.
“Hey, where am I and who the hell are you people?”
They don’t even acknowledge that I’m speaking, that I’m moving and jerking on the chains holding me down and keeping me from ripping their fucking throats out. They just keep on making notes or whatever it is they’re doing. Maybe I’m not even talking. Maybe I’m imagining the entire thing.
“Answer me, damn it! Where am I, and what the fuck are you doing to me?”
“Hey now, let’s calm it down, Mike,” a calm but stern voice says from behind me. “I would hate to have to knock you out again.”
I try to look behind me to see who is speaking, but I can’t get a beat on where he is. I move my head every which way, but find nothing but darkness beyond the light in my face.
“Who are you and what’ve you done to me?”
“It really doesn’t matter who we are, but what does matter, Mike, is that you are one of the first to progress where all others have fallen short. Most of the other subjects either became what you’ve seen roaming up top or made no real changes at all. It’s really quite remarkable. You should be very happy and proud of your accomplishment.” The man snickers.
“Go to hell!” I yell, and jerk hard on the chains once more. Pulling with all my might, I hear the metal links stretch and actually give some. “I’ll be satisfied once I have my cold, dead hands wrapped around your throat!”
Zap!
My muscles instantly seize up on me, my hands flailing about and knocking the tray next to me over as I shake like a fish out of water. I grit my teeth so damn hard I feel as if I could bust them with relative ease. I try to push past the electricity coursing through my body that has me paralyzed, but I’m SOL.
It stops, my body smoking some and the smell of charred flesh filling my nostrils. I catch my breath and regain my composure.
“That was a warning, Mike. Do that again, and I’ll turn up the juice to BBQ.”
I keep quiet and play the submissive role, acting as though I have learned my lesson and would not think of testing their patience again. For now, I’ll play the bitch.
“Good boy,” the man says. I can hear him smiling. Annoying really. “I wish I had more time to stand here and continue our little banter session, but I have to get moving and you have to get dissected and studied so we can replicate your genes.”
I lay there, defeated, and stare straight into the overhead lamps as I hear the mystery man whispering something to the two labs coats hanging around my feet. No doubt telling them what body parts he wants and where to stick my leftovers once their done. I guess it’ll be a surprise.
“Take care, Mike. Your sacrifice will not go unnoticed.”
And like that, the piece of crap slips away into the darkness and leaves my body to the two coats waiting to crack me open. One of them splits off and goes across the room, the sound of metal on metal bouncing around the noiseless space while the other stands off to my left. He slides the stand that held the tray of cutting utensils off to the side and grabs my arm.
“Administering the sedative now. He should be good to go in a couple of minutes,” the man next to me states flatly like he’s speaking in a documentary.
He brings the needle tip to my upper forearm, the cold, unforgiving metal pressing against my skin. I explode out of my submissive state, jerking my left arm out of the way, and grab the needle from his hands. Before he can react or bark an order, I slam the tip into his neck and inject whatever’s floating inside.
Gurgling his own spit and choking on the blood draining into his throat, the man reaches for the syringe. I spot some keys bouncing around on his hip and snatch them up. I push him backwards with my hand as his blood trickles out the sides of the needle’s tip and down his neck. He stumbles back into some cabinets and falls like a rock to the ground.
I cut my eyes over to the other coat and see him darting for some type of control button on the wall. I grab the scalpel that freed me from my shackle and flick it with deadly accuracy. The razor sharp blade spins end over end and drills into the man’s temple, dropping him like a bad habit before his fingertips can press the button.
I take a deep breath and knock the overhead lamp out of the way, peering around the spacious lab and checking for anyone else that might be lurking about. I thumb through the keys and try out each one on the shackles, going through a good number of them before finding the right one. I unlock the remaining shackles and rub my wrist as I slip off the hard metal table and get to my feet.
I hear movement across the room at one of the doors and run over to the side and out of the way. Just in time too as the door bursts open and two soldiers rush in with weapons drawn and relaying intel out loud. “I’ve got two coats down and subject is nowhere to be—”
I grab the soldier nearest from behind and snap his neck fast and clean, grabbing his machine gun and firing on the other soldier taking point. The padded vest quickly becomes Swiss cheese as the bullets tear through his body and impact the far wall, strings of deep, thick blood trailing in the bullets wake.
The soldier crumbles and falls face first as I toss the lifeless corpse I’m holding off to the side. There will likely be more reinforcements coming after the abrupt end to the transmission.
Okay, I need to gather up what I can real quick and get moving. I hastily strip both men of what gear I can use and double check all weapons to make sure they’re good to go. Two pistols and two machine guns. Kneeling there on
the floor, I check each magazine. All look full and ready. I grab the newly acquired pack that I relieved from one of the soldiers and toss it over my shoulder.
I hit the motherlode with these two saps as one had a few hand grenades and the other some explosives. I hear one of the fallen soldiers’ radios go off. “Red team, come in. We’ve got two more units heading your way. ETA is five minutes!”
I get to my feet and peer around the room, trying to find some way out of the lab. I only spot the one main door that will soon have more soldiers arriving with a shoot to kill mentality, and I surely don’t remember the trip to wherever it is I am now.
Think, damn it!
I’m getting frustrated and mad, thinking of everything that has happened thus far and the jerk off finding great joy in my misery. I can’t wait to get my hands wrapped around his throat.
My eyes continue to dance over the room as I rack my brain. I spot a faint light emitting out from under part of the wall. I make my way over and run my hands over the surface, finding a razor thin slit in the wall. A door?
I search and search, my fingers gliding every which way. A portion of the wall suddenly pops open. I peek inside and find a lit pathway that goes down and curves off to the right. Looks good to me.
Before I venture on, I reach back into the pack and remove one of the timed explosives. I punch in one minute and set the timer, the seconds counting down as I sling the magnetic explosive across the room. It hits in a good, out of the way place as I slip inside the hidden room and close the secret door behind me.
I keep counting down in my head as I quickly and cautiously worm through the hidden passage leading me to God knows where. I should be beyond the blast radius, and those suckers should be walking into hell itself right now—hopefully. I would hate for it to explode and not kill any of those bastards. What a waste that would be.
Up ahead, my path ends with another solid surface. Is there another secret switch or verbal command to open this thing? Where are the freaking door handles in this place?
Afflicted_Patient Zero_Book 1 Page 12
