At least the creatures were distracted, and Natalie breathed a small sigh of thankfulness that they'd had some luck. That luck continued in their favor as they entered the back room, finding a perfectly sturdy door complete with a hefty deadbolt. Once Rico joined them inside, they set to barricading themselves in.
Satisfied that they'd done everything they could for now, the group huddled down together. Whatever this room had once held had long since been picked clean, the only remaining items being a shelf they now had pressed against the door and an old desk bolted down in the back. Even the scent of death that had pervaded the rest of the building was lessened.
It didn't take long for the noise from the lot outside to die down, and soon the faint note of movement could be heard just beyond their door. Occasionally the steady thud of footsteps would be interrupted by a wet squelch, a sound Natalie did her best to avoid focusing on.
A hand closed gently over her own, and Natalie glanced down to find it belonged to BJ. He had a rough smile on his face, a look that didn't seem quite natural to him but one he was clearly trying to wear as best he could. He leaned in nearer to Natalie, and she could smell a deep sweat on him. It wasn't unpleasant, the usual tinge of salt muddled with a musk that made her think of rugged places and confidence.
“You did well. The can was a good call.” BJ patted her hand clumsily as he spoke, but Natalie was heartened by his actions regardless. It was obvious he wasn't used to this kind of reassurance, but it had never been more apparent to her that it was the thought that counts.
Feeling just slightly better, Natalie rested down on her back. They had no way of knowing how long they would have to be in here, though Rico had his eyes glued to the crack at the bottom of the door. It wasn't perfect, granting them almost no real view beyond the base of the counter outside, but it did at least let them know how much of a space buffer they had between them and the enemy.
Marco tapped at her knee, and Natalie raised her head to see him offering an opened can of beans. She took it in silence, nodding her thanks. His half-cocked shrug still managed to find a way to annoy her, but the gesture had been a kind one. Her stomach wasn't willing to comply with her urges to fill it, and she quickly gave up on trying to eat. Handing the can back to Marco, she caught the men establishing a silent agreement to take turns watching the door.
Miming sleep, BJ ushered Natalie to try and get as much rest as she could. She didn't really believe it would be possible, but settling down brought on a sudden onset of fatigue that she hadn't realized she was carrying. Beside her, Marco finished his food before padding down for a quick nap. BJ was in a similar position across from them, Rico having agreed to take first watch.
The noise from outside was deeply disturbing, and part of Natalie's brain was telling her that falling asleep to that kind of soundtrack was probably going to mess her up. The last thing she saw before closing her eyes in earnest was Rico, tilting his head toward Natalie and giving her a weak thumbs-up.
That made three kind gestures from three kind men, and the thought was relaxing. For everything else that had gone wrong, there were still good people doing good things. Natalie wasn't exactly in the mood for smiling, but the thought at least let her drift into an uneasy sleep.
“Sir? The boys picked up another dead drop from our mole. Brought it here as soon as I could.” Peering up from behind steepled hands at his desk, he took in the sight of his agent. Young, too young to know any better, and eager to please. A tight smile crossed his lips. Youths were always the easiest to work with.
“Thank you. Set it here on my table.” The words were confident, spoken quietly but with an aura of command that left no room for refusal. Whatever resistance a person might be able to muster would quickly be doused by the steely glimmer flashing within his cold eyes. He was a man of authority, and he made no attempt to hide it.
Even knowing they were on the same side, the messenger's eagerness soon faded under her commander's icy watch, and it was obvious she now wanted to be done with her errand post-haste.
She had been excited to deliver the drop, entering the office with a flourish like a dog ready for praise. Now that she was here and actually face-to-face with him, it was clear she understood why the others did what they could to be finished with their business and away from his scrutiny as quickly as possible.
Being careful to avoid direct eye contact, the youthful courier did as she was instructed. There was a gleam coming off of the polished medals that decorated his pristine uniform, and the young woman had opted to fixate on that. With hands far steadier than her nervous tension would have suggested, she placed the thumb drive down and waited for his dismissal.
Through all of this, the man behind the desk never moved. He simply observed, noting his subordinate's fear but pleased with her lack of hesitation. There was no time to be wasted on pleasantries, and he was curious to see what news he had been brought. Not bothering to speak again, a wave of his hand was more than enough to convey that the messenger was done here.
Noticeably relieved, the courier snapped a salute before spinning on her heel and making her exit. Minutes passed without action, the commander's gaze settled on the flash drive in front of him. Murmuring aloud as he finally reached out to grasp it, he allowed himself a heavy sigh.
“Good news or bad news, I wonder.” He suspected he already knew the answer, but somehow it felt better to voice the possibility that things might be going smoothly. The computer hummed to life as he plugged in the drive, and a moment later he was watching a video recording. A weary woman with a deeply set frown commanded the screen.
“Medical log for Dr. Baspine as follows. Today marks the... fuck's sake, what is it, two hundred fifty fifth day? Two hundred fifty sixth?” Her scowl deepens as she flips through a sheaf of papers.
“Two hundred fifty sixth day, since the first strain of virus was released. We are now looking at the eighth strain. The constant changes in the make-up have been preventing the workers from isolating any decent cure, not to mention the drain on resources, both physical and mental.” The screen flips to video feed from a security camera as the narration continues.
The room it reveals is filled with zombies that have been strapped down to gurneys. There are countless of them, being wheeled in and out of the room like clockwork. A closer look reveals they are of varying ethnicities, from different age groups, and in various stages of emaciation.
“We've been attempting to get a better read on how the body is being affected. So far, we've made a fair amount of progress at isolating the impact on the brain and muscular system, more precisely. Much as it pains me to say it, practice makes perfect, and we've certainly been getting plenty of practice.” There is a hint of something else hidden in her tone, though whether it is amusement or disgust is uncertain.
The video cuts to another camera, this one showing a room nearly identical to the first. The exception seems to be that the gurneys here are filled with live humans.
“Volunteers. We need them to track the symptoms and note whenever there seems to be a change in the virus' usual pattern. You never know what might prove useful, and as much as I recognize the necessity of it all, I can't help but feel it is... dirty work.” The narration is cut by a momentary silence, and judging by the sound of her voice, she is not pleased with the situation she finds herself in. The doctor continues in a low mutter.
“Considering the amount of time elapsed between the release of each of the previous strains, we'll be seeing the ninth version by tomorrow morning. All of these people will be replaced by new ones, and their deaths will have amounted to nothing.” Finally, the video clips back to the doctor. Her weariness has turned bitter, and she stares into the camera with intensity.
“I'm giving you all that I have. Even with everything that's been happening, we remain ahead of the curve over here. If you want that to stop, you're going to have to do something more severe.” She glances over her shoulder as a silhouette passes beyond the window behind
her.
“Security is tight, and everyone involved is motivated to get this done with. You're going to have to move soon or everything is going to be lost. I'm uploading a rough schematic of the outpost that I've drawn up. Keep in mind, I don't have the clearance to go everywhere, so this map isn't complete, but that shouldn't matter.” A radio on her chest crackles to life, requesting her assistance with a medical emergency. She sighs, before looking into the camera one last time.
“Remember. All you need to do is remove the medical and science teams. Without them, it all falls apart. I'll update you again when I can, but hopefully that won't be necessary.” She cocks a brow as if for emphasis, before growling into her radio that she is on her way.
“Move fast, sir.” She spits the last word, before the video ends abruptly.
The commander's fingers are steepled again as he considers his options. Dr. Baspine was a tough pill to swallow, but if she said he needed to raise the stakes, he was inclined to take her word for it.
“Something more severe...” He let the words linger on his tongue, mulling them over. Nodding slowly to himself, he stood up from his desk. A visit to the lab should give him just the thing he needed. His lips curved into that same tight smile as he stepped outside of his office, a plan beginning to form in his mind.
One of the less obvious problems in the apocalypse is the ability to tell time. Unless you're an expert survivalist, there's virtually no way to know what day it is, or how many hours have passed. It was the first thought that came to Natalie's mind as she came out of her fitful nap.
Marco was on watch, his face pressed low to the door. He winked casually at her as he noticed she was awake. Natalie was too tired to bother with glowering at him, opting to ignore the look instead. She pointed at the door and cocked her head, trying to see if there was any news.
The smarmy exterior Marco surrounded himself with cracked at her inquiry. For a second he almost seemed scared, before he reflexively countered her unspoken question with an annoyed shrug. It didn't take a genius to decipher his response: How the fuck should I know?
Wrinkling her nose, Natalie realized she should have expected that. They might be safe enough for now, but they'd have to leave sooner rather than later. Their current hideout wasn't exactly suitable for scouting out the enemy, and when they did make their move to leave, there was a very good chance they'd be flying blind.
Time passed slowly, Natalie taking pains to try and find anything to focus on beyond the knot in her gut. She couldn't hear any sound coming from outside, which was about as good a sign as they could ask for.
Rico and BJ were resting, but Marco had apparently had enough of that. He tapped at each of their boots, and a second later the men were alert and ready to move. Natalie wasn't surprised at how quickly they woke up, but she was impressed. They were adjusted to this kind of stop-and-go life, while Natalie's own mind was foggy from the poor rest.
A thud at the door did wonders for her grogginess. Marco hadn't woken the rest of the team for nothing, it seemed. Another thud, this one more insistent. The entire group froze, doing their best to breathe as silently as they could.
Natalie tried to recall any noises they'd made, anything that could have given them away. The door rattled under the force of another swing from the creature outside. To her memory, there was nothing. Beyond that, the banging at the door didn't sound as frantic as she was accustomed to from the undead.
It was almost certainly a zombie outside, although it didn't appear to be hunting. But if that were the case, why was it trying to get inside? Rico was equally perplexed, offering a shrug when Natalie looked to him for input.
Through all of this, BJ was calm. He was resting with his rifle centered on the door while Marco continued to peer under the bottom, trying to divine more about the situation they found themselves in. Frustration was mounting on his face, and he flashed an angry signal.
One biter, standing. The sound it is making doesn't seem to be drawing any others, either. Maybe they left? Natalie's adrenaline began to kick in, and she felt herself getting antsy. As stupid as she knew it was, she was looking forward to the fight ahead.
The feeling was becoming almost addictive, and it was wholly alien to her. Natalie wasn't violent, or at least she had never believed herself to be. Yet, she couldn't deny that she wanted a conflict. Her internal struggle was cut short as the men stood up and prepared to act.
If they wanted to get out, they would need to remove the shelf they'd placed in front of the door. Any sound they made ran the risk of alerting the creep on the other side, which was an added threat they couldn't allow.
The banging at the door held a steady pace, slow but persistent, and Natalie hoped dearly they'd be able to keep it that way. BJ motioned for the cousins to move the shelf out of the way, his weapon hovering at the ready in case the door gave in.
The whole scene was reminiscent of a bomb defusal, every movement painstakingly slow and precise. The comparison seemed reasonable to Natalie, considering that any mistake they made was likely to land them in a very bad situation.
As Rico and Marco gently lifted the shelving unit away, Natalie watched the door with greater intensity. It was sturdy, but the dead had already proven their strength to her in the past. Sturdy didn't mean quite as much as it used to, these days.
Quickly as they could afford, Marco moved into position behind the door. From there, he should be able to open it and allow the zombie into the room while keeping it as a barrier between them. His face betrayed the stress he was enduring, but his commitment to discipline held.
In fact, it was only BJ who looked perfectly at ease. He had gently placed his rifle down, leaving Rico to the emergency weapons duty. In its place, he now held a particularly savage tactical axe. It was well sharpened, but had seen a great deal of use. Natalie shuddered, uncertain of if she was more afraid of the undead or whatever BJ was capable of.
Crouched beside Rico, Natalie waited for BJ's signal to open the door with bated breath. She held her crowbar firm, having ignored every rational part of her brain that told her the shotgun was a better choice. She wanted to hit something, and it took a great deal of willpower to stop herself from focusing on why she felt that way.
Almost casually, BJ raised his hand, getting a feel for the timing of the knocks at the door. Having found a rhythm, he gave Marco the order to release the beast. Gripping the knob, he did as he was instructed.
All at once, the zed behind the door pitched forward into the room. It had been mid-swing, and its complete lack of balance sent it stumbling into the wall. Marco had barely shut the door behind it before BJ had stepped forward and buried his axe at the base of the monster's skull. Satisfied that he had severed the brain stem, he pulled his weapon free before bringing it down in another swing, cleaving a gash into the zombie's head.
It was a brutal and precise kill that made Natalie wince, but there was something more primal that was bothering her. She had been so prepared for a battle that she couldn't help but feel as if the conflict had been anti-climactic, a small part of her secretly hoping they would be forced to deal with more.
Natalie realized she might get her wish as the men agreed it was time to move out. There were bound to be more undead loitering around, and as much as the thought ignited a spark of fear in her heart, it was undeniably tempered by her darker desires.
After a few more minutes of waiting to see if their altercation had brought any visitors to the door, the group felt confident they were safe for the moment. Moving back into formation, BJ retook point and opened the door into the building proper.
Natalie was immediately taken aback by the thick metallic scent of fresh blood. The piles that had served as a buffet for the dead had been refreshed with new meat, and a lot of it. The floors were slick and sticky, making their boots creak as they moved.
There wasn't anything to be done for it. The tile was uniformly hidden by the mess, so they would just have to make due as best they were able a
nd hope they stayed lucky. Given the unstable setting around them, relying on hope and good luck was far from ideal.
At least for now, they appeared to be in the clear. The room was filthy and nauseating, but empty. Approaching the door to peek outside, they were greeted by yet more stillness. No sign of the biters, and no indicators of where they may have gone after they left the gas station.
Readying themselves to resume their journey while their good fortune lasted, Natalie hesitated. She tapped at BJ's shoulder, causing him to turn a quizzical eye her way. She gestured between the bodies back inside and the gasoline pumps around them, miming out an action like lighting a match.
This place was screwed and Natalie knew it. Zombies would continue to come back here to feed, ensuring it would remain dangerous forever, but if they torched it then at least they'd be doing something to disrupt the monsters.
BJ shook his head firmly, much to Natalie's disbelief.
Her plan would have some risk, but if it put a dent in their enemy it would be worth doing. The look on her face must have given away her thoughts, as the sudden shift of BJ's body language made it abundantly clear what he felt about the idea. Natalie wouldn't find any room for discussion here.
Disappointed, she fell back in line. She felt like she was a teenager in school all over again, silently annoyed at the adults telling her how to behave. Natalie was aware that this was a very different world, but she couldn't help but compare her plan to BJ's actions before.
He was the one who had opted to continue exploring the gas station once they knew what it was being used for. He was the one who had insisted they take a break there, and for what? To grab a cat nap? No, that had been just as foolish and risky as what Natalie had suggested, without any of the added benefit of striking at the enemy.
The Phoenix Trilogy (Book 1): World On Fire Page 8
