The Mal got up off his haunches and gently walked to the terrified woman. He leaned over and licked her cheek, then dropped to the floor and let out a deep, sad sigh. He nestled his body against her side and put his head on her stomach.
The results were instantaneous. She seemed to come out of her nightmare. Her eyes began to focus as her arm found Shrek’s fur.
Carver knelt back down and removed his helmet. He brushed the hair from her face and smiled. “You’re safe now.”
She focused on his face, then looked down at Shrek before beginning to quietly sob. Tears dripped down her cheeks and phlegm choked her gasps for air.
Her body was shedding fluids, a sure sign that the IV had worked. He removed the needle and tossed the setup to the side.
“Who are you?” she finally asked.
“Well,” Carver said with a smirk, “we’re your rescuers.”
The howling and slamming from outside disputed his words.
The woman raised herself up onto her elbows and gave the two men a tired, but sarcastic look. “Sounds like you have everything under control.”
Shader burst out laughing and Carver gave her a grin. Even Shrek perked up, sitting back on his haunches.
“I think she’s back with us,” Shader replied.
“I’m Chief John Carver and this is Master Chief Shader.”
Shader tossed her a weak wave. “You can call me Porky.”
“Kristin Metcalf,” she said, her voice still a bit dry and raspy.
Both men recognized her name.
“You’re Doctor Ladley’s nurse, aren’t you?” Carver said.
Metcalf perked up at the mention of her boss’s name. “He sent you?”
“Yep. He’s waiting for us on his boat.”
A loud boom snapped their heads toward the outer chamber. Carver and Shader rushed to the door and peeked into the room. Other than the dead Variant bodies, the outside space was empty, but the commotion from the hallway kept the men in place. Something big was throwing itself against the reinforced door, its frame flexing with each collision.
They kept watch for several minutes as the door and walls shook with each attack. Eventually the hallway assault ended, but the Variants clinging to the wall outside the window kept up their attempts to get in.
The two men turned back and found Metcalf on her knees, pointing a handgun at the door. Shrek was still at her side. The Glock shook in her hand, her eyes wide in fear.
“Take it easy,” Carver whispered. “Lower the weapon. The door’s holding.”
She dropped the firearm to her side and sat back on her heels. She stared off into the distance, her lips quivering from the adrenaline that was slowly bleeding from her system. “They never stop, do they?”
“Eventually, they will,” Carver said. “We got all the way in here unseen. If it hadn’t been for the six in the outer room, we’d be gone by now.”
Metcalf dropped her head and sighed. She swiveled off her heels and onto her rear. Her hopelessness was palpable.
“Those were the others,” she said quietly.
“The ones who were with you and Doc Ladley?”
“Yeah. People I lived with for almost half a year. All of them dead. How many did you kill?”
“Six.”
“Then he made it. The son of a bitch killed us all, so he could get away.”
“What happened?” Carver asked.
“We let them in. At least, they got in when we tried to get out.” She collected herself then continued. “When Dr. Ladley snuck out of the building and made it to his boat, we were elated.
“We signaled to each other, trying to communicate. Using light to try and converse wasn’t working out so well. We knew he and his family were trying to come up with a way to help us, but a few weeks after he’d made it out, we were no closer to escaping. There were seven of us left, and our water was running out.”
“So, you made a break for it?” Carver asked.
“Yeah. The hallway sounded clear, so we tried to follow Dr. Ladley’s route. Make a left and take the stairs. Go into the mezzanine level and cross to the south stairwell. One flight down where a window could be accessed. Just outside of it is a large downspout. That’s what Dr. Ladley used to shimmy down and get into the ocean.”
She paused to catch her breath. She was still weak.
“What happened?”
“We were moving fine and made it to the first stairwell and started down. Just as we were coming to the first landing, a group of infected walked into the stairwell from the floor below us.
“We had agreed to return to the room if it turned out we all couldn’t make it out. All or none. That’s what we decided as a group.”
Her voice was cracking, and she seemed to lose some energy.
“Do you want some more water?” Carver asked.
“No, I’ll be fine for a bit. Let me finish.”
She adjusted her seating position on the floor and rubbed Shrek’s fur.
“Jason. That’s the guy who took off. He smashed the window and jumped out onto the downspout. He was the first in line and left us all. The creatures coming up from below heard him and began to run up the stairs.”
She paused again, a tear coming to her eyes.
“We tried to get back to the room. I was the last in line, and I was the first to make it back here. But the others…”
She wiped her eyes with her shirt sleeve.
“Some of them never made it out of the stairwell, and the other three were caught in the hallway outside. I kept the door open and tried to reach Cindy. She was right behind me. I had her hand and tried to pull her in, but…”
She stopped talking. Both men remained silent, allowing her to collect herself.
“I tried to shut the door to the hallway, but one of them got their claw between the door and jamb. I let go and ran into this room. And that’s it. I’ve been in here for almost two weeks.”
She slumped forward and put her head into her hands.
“You’re tired,” Carver stated.
“Actually, I’m starving.”
“But you have all these MRE boxes. There’s plenty of food,” Carver noted.
“Had it gone bad?” Shader asked.
“Some of it, but a lot of the food held up. The problem is that most of the stuff that was edible were the crackers. The tins of meat and cheeses were usually corroded through.”
Carver saw the empty boxes. He moved to the pile and saw stacks of rusted tins, many with holes eaten through them. Small packs of cigarettes were scattered among the piles along with desiccated sticks of gum and dehydrated, chicklet-sized candies.
Carver found a plastic-wrapped bundle of crackers. He opened them and sniffed. They smelled slightly of rancid cooking oil, but a bite confirmed they were more than edible. In fact, they tasted like a graham cracker but with a slightly oily taste.
He finished the cracker and smiled. “They’re fine. In fact, they taste pretty good.” He took a swig of water from the hose attached to his rig’s strap.
“Sure, they do. But what did you do after you ate that one?”
Carver stopped sipping on the water. The crackers made him thirsty.
“Copy,” he said. “No water, no crackers.”
“You can live three weeks without food,” she said. “But only three days without water. I needed to stay hydrated, and the crackers were only making me drink more than I should. I stopped eating almost a week ago.”
Porky grabbed his assault pack and dug out a modern MRE. The Menu 2 pouch had shredded BBQ beef as its entrée. He opened the top and handed it to her along with a plastic spoon.
“I could heat this up, but I’d have to use some water to activate the heating chemicals. It should be fine cold.”
“Smells better than it looks,” she said, peeking into the pouch.
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Shader replied. “Not my favorite, but it’s moist.”
Metcalf took a small nibble of the meat,
then scooped a large mouthful up and chewed. “God, that tastes great. I haven’t eaten anything but crackers and sixty-year-old tins of cheese in months.”
She finished the pouch of food and nodded at the MRE bag.
“Anything else in there?”
Shader cut open another smaller pouch of black beans that were soaked in a seasoned sauce and handed it to her.
Carver found an envelope marked “Orange” and tore it open. He grabbed an empty plastic bottle from the floor and filled it halfway with water from his CamelBak. He poured the powder into the bottle and shook.
“Here. These electrolytes should help you as well.” He handed the half-full bottle to the woman.
She eagerly drank the dark orange liquid. The sugar and other additives seemed to infuse her with a renewed vigor.
“Is there anything else?” she asked after taking a mouthful of the black beans.
“Yes, there is, but you need to go easy,” Shader said. “You’ll cramp up if you eat too much.”
She ignored him and grabbed the MRE pack, turning it upside down. A sealed pack of tortillas, a small bag of nuts, and pretzels fell to the floor along with a small pouch of cheese.
“They say that tastes like Cheez Whiz, but don’t believe it,” Shader said.
“I’ll save all this for later. Everything is delicious.”
“You must be starving if you like that shit,” Carver said. “It’s just calories, as far as I’m concerned.”
She replaced the remaining items into the MRE bag and held it close. “Now, how do we get out of here?” Her energy and attitude were much higher now that she’d had some food and drink.
“We just have to give it some time,” Carver said.
She looked at him with a frown. “When we first got stuck in here, they didn’t stop trying to get in for almost a week.”
“Time isn’t the problem,” Shader said. “It’s water.”
Porky was right. Each of their CamelBak bladders started the mission with a little over a gallon each. That was barely two days’ worth of water to keep three people hydrated. Less time, if they wanted to be at maximum effectiveness when they exfiltrated the building.
“We need to contact the others and make a plan,” Shader said. “We need to get out of this place in the next twenty-four hours.”
Carver nodded and keyed his microphone. “Rescue One, this is Red One actual. Do you copy? Over.”
“We copy you, Red One. What’s your sitrep? Over.”
“Confirming that we’ve recovered just one survivor. Let Dr. Ladley know that we found his nurse. She’s fine, but we’re in a real bind. We’ve got less than two days of water and a lot of pissed-off Variants. Over.”
“Are you in a secure place, Red One? Over.”
“We’re good for now, Rescue One. But we’d really like to come home. Over.”
“Let us put our brains together, Red One. We’ll contact you at eighteen hundred hours with what we’ve got. Over.”
“Thanks, Rescue One. We’ll hold until then. Red One, out.”
Carver looked around the storage room and found a crate he could use as a chair. Within moments, he had positioned his ruck and a few of its contents to create a rather comfortable place to sit. His rifle was across his lap and Shrek lay on the floor next to him.
“That’s it?” Metcalf asked. “We just sit and wait?”
“No. We get some rest,” Carver replied. “When we leave this place, we’ll need to move quickly. You’d best get some rest yourself.”
“I’ve done nothing but rest.”
“Then here,” Carver said, tossing her one of his MRE pouches. “It’s pasta so you shouldn’t need a lot of water afterwards.”
“The last one was salty.”
“Yeah. This one probably is as well.”
She looked questioningly at Carver.
“I don’t want to be a jerk, but you need to just deal with it. You’re not dehydrated, just thirsty. I’m thirsty. Shrek’s thirsty. Shader’s thirsty.” He didn’t give her any sympathy.
Shader’s snore droned in the background. Interrupting Carver’s tirade.
“Well, he’s probably thirsty,” he added.
“I get it. I’ll be fine.”
“That’s the spirit.” Carver checked his watch. “It’s nearly noon. We’ll hydrate again at fifteen hundred.”
Metcalf nodded and began to attack the pasta, tearing the plastic-and-aluminum-foil pouch open and scooping the thick, meaty pasta into her mouth. It was salty, cold, and its sauce was too thick. It was amazing.
She finished her second heaping mouthful. The moist entrée filled her stomach. Her blood sugar soared, and her foul mood lifted. She began to believe that they could get out of this place.
“So, tell me about…” Metcalf started to say.
She glanced at Carver. His head was tilted back and mouth open, a quiet growl coming from his mouth. He’d already fallen asleep.
She quietly rose and tip-toed to his side and picked up the MRE box that still contained more food and goodies.
She hadn’t made a sound, and the only one to notice her movement was the dog. He had his head between his paws and was following her with his eyes. She timidly lifted the cardboard container from the floor and turned to go back to her spot.
“There’s probably some Skittles in there,” Carver whispered.
She froze and nodded. She hadn’t made a sound. She sat back down and found the small pouch of fruit candy. She tore it open and contentedly chewed on one of the red ones. She glanced at Shrek and could have sworn he gave her a dirty look before closing his eyes.
She finished the treat and lay down on the hard surface. Carver’s woobie was under her, and Shader had given her a towel to use as a pillow. She lay flat on her back, watching the green glow from the chem-stick illuminate the room. It was the most light she’d seen in a long while.
She took a deep breath and resigned herself to several hours of boredom. Both men ground out different levels of snoring. Shader’s was deep and vibrated the floor while Carver’s was a lighter rumble. There was no way she’d be able to sleep, but she closed her eyes and sighed.
“Hey. It’s time to hydrate,” Carver said, shaking Metcalf’s shoulder.
The young nurse looked around, confused by the large man hovering over her.
“But…you said we would get some water at three.”
Carver tapped his timepiece and nodded.
Impossible. She couldn’t have been asleep since noon. She lifted her head and saw Shader smiling.
“Welcome to the living.” He smirked.
Metcalf shook the cobwebs from her head. It had to have been the food. Either that, or she was a secret SEAL and falling asleep at a moment’s notice was a new and valuable gift she’d just discovered.
Carver had already poured her a half bottle of water and added the juice mix from the second MRE she’d eaten.
“Here you go. This should hold you for another few hours.”
Both men chewed on an energy bar and sipped sparingly from their water bladders. She knew if she’d had a bladder on her back, it would have been drained by now.
The two men showed a dedication and discipline that impressed her. As she watched them slowly eat their snack, a calmness descended over her. It was a sentiment she hadn’t felt in months. They were going to get her out of there. They were just too strong and too focused to fail.
“Thanks,” she said.
Both men looked at her and then at each other.
“For what?” Carver said. “We haven’t gotten out yet.”
“We will. I know it.”
Carver nodded to her then turned his attention back to his battle rifle. He’d separated the top and bottom halves and was diligently cleaning the internal parts with cotton swabs that had been dipped in a small, plastic vial of liquid. The smell of the cleaning solution was not unpleasant and helped mask the stench from the bucket of urine and feces.
She watche
d them both prepare and had the sudden feeling that she was in a locker room, just before a big game. They were like football linebackers, focused and strong, preparing to do battle.
“Here,” Shader said, handing her back the Glock. “It’s been cleaned, lubed, and it’s ready to fire. Just keep it in your belt or pocket until we tell you to bring it out. I don’t want you to accidentally put a bullet in one of us.”
“Or yourself,” Carver added. “We’ll do the shooting. You stay behind us and do what we say.”
“Yes, sir,” she replied smartly.
“We have us a plebe.” Shader smirked, using the nickname given to the first year naval academy students.
“You know what?” Metcalf said. “You’re right. We’re going to be just fine.”
A loud crash from the next room jolted them back to reality. Carver shrugged and looked at the frightened woman.
“So much for that,” he said wearily.
They spent the next few hours waiting for Rescue One to contact them. Carver kept his Multiband Inter/Intra Team Radio (MBITR) next to him on the floor while the two men grilled Metcalf on the layout of the Casino, which had long ago been converted into a convention center.
Carver had taken a discarded MRE box and drawn a rough diagram of the building with Metcalf’s help, using an all-weather pen. That, along with a small 3x5-inch top-spiral Rite in the Rain notebook were critical items in his load out.
“We’re on the Casino ballroom level. It’s essentially one giant room with floor-to-ceiling glass French doors that lead out to the ocean side of the building. There’s a kitchen adjacent to this room and other storage areas for tables, chairs, and all the stuff you’d need to host large wedding parties and conferences.
“On the floor below us is the mezzanine level. Then the bottom floor is the building’s theater. It’s immense and where the hospital functions had been setup. The infection got started down there within days of us moving the hospital. We never had time to do more than set up a triage center. The mezzanine level and the ballroom outside are all just as they were before…” Her voice trailed off.
“Before the world ended,” Shader finished.
Metcalf just nodded.
“That’s it?” Carver asked. “Just three floors?”
Extinction Survival Series (Book 3): Cost of Survival Page 32
