*****
Everything was fine when we returned to the lab. The 2nd floor was still quiet, and Max hadn’t turned into one of them and eaten Trina or Gem yet. I could tell by the way Gem was hanging onto that Uzi that it was unlikely anyone or anything would get the jump on her.
After verifying that the girls were okay, Hemp and I moved back into the second floor hall. The south hallway led to a connecting tunnel that would once have taken you to Building #1, but the door at the end was closed, and we could smell fire. Building #1 must have been engulfed in flames by now. Since the tunnel was constructed entirely of steel and glass, there was little risk that the fire would spread to Building #2 from that point.
There were small offices and closets located here, and after searching them, we’d be finished with the 2nd floor. Storage closets on the left side and four offices, two on each side of the hallway.
“I’ll take the offices on the right, and you get the others. We’ll split the closets.
Hemp nodded and pulled open the door to the office closest to him. I did the same. I flicked on the light, and saw movement from the corner of my eye.
I swung my Daewoo toward the far corner desk. “Stand up. If you understand my voice, you’re in no danger.”
I saw the tips of delicate fingers at first, then the hands, followed by arms in a white lab coat, blonde hair, and then a face. It was the extremely frightened face of a young woman on the edge of sanity. Her eyes wide, her lip quivering, she began sobbing when she saw me.
“You can put your arms down,” I said. I moved quickly around the rest of the small office, and saw nothing. When I walked to her and looked down, I realized what had sent her into a panic. One of the abnormals, a bullet hole cleanly in the center of its forehead, lay crumpled by her feet. It, too, wore a lab coat. The name tag on that one said Professor Anthony Mihalovich.
I assumed a guard had come in on a search while the woman was hidden, encountered the former professor, and had either become familiar with what had to be done to kill the creatures, or got lucky. Either way, this woman was alive, and not one of the abnormals because of that single bullet hole in Mihalovich’s head.
I took her arm with my hand and gently pulled until her legs involuntarily moved away from the thing. “Come on,” I said. “Come over here.”
She let me lead her, her head drooped, her eyes on the ground. I stopped about two feet from the door and stood in front of her. I lifted the young woman’s chin gently with my fingers. “Look at me,” I said.
She lifted her fearful face to mine. Her eyes darted between mine.
“What’s your name?” I asked, softly.
“Cynthia Preston,” she said in a flat, monotone.
“My name’s Flex Sheridan and I’m here to help you. You’re going to be okay, Cynthia. Trust me on that. Now let’s get out of here.”
I met Hemp in the hallway. The adjacent office was vacant, and Hemp had already checked out the other office on my side. The closets also proved to be empty – nobody hiding there. But at least we had one more uninfected – one more hope for humankind.
But still the odds for our existence did not look good. The number of infecteds clearly outnumbered the others. And now that we knew the symptoms could be passed through a bite or perhaps even scratches, I was beginning to have my doubts about any sort of positive outcome.
But I couldn’t let Cynthia know that.
“We’ll have to examine you for cuts and scratches back in the lab,” I told her. “Don’t worry – there’s a woman with us who’ll take care of that.”
She nodded. We went.
Dead Hunger: The Flex Sheridan Chronicle Page 23
