by Jeff Olah
The words felt wrong even as they left his tongue. And as Ethan bit into his lip and shook his head, David reached out. Laying his hand on his friends shoulder, he spoke before Ethan could respond. “Buddy, I’m sorry. That was totally insensitive. I really shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay. You’re probably right. Let’s go get Carly.”
The thunderous footfalls out in the hall now quite obvious, David gently shook on the door handle and pressed his ear to the cold steel. Turning back to Ethan, he said, “Alright, we need to go. Whatever or whoever is on the other side of this door now knows we’re out here. So I say we go with the known threat out in the hall. I’ll take down the big guy and then we move through the rest of the building like we’re on fire. You good?”
“What about not making any noise?”
David peered back into the hall and quickly pulled back. “I think it’s too late for that, just promise me one thing.”
Ethan readied his weapon. “What?”
“If I ever turn into one of those things, please take me out before I hurt anyone.” And looking directly into his best friend’s eyes, David said, “Promise me. I want you to say it.”
Ethan faked a smile. “Yeah, okay. I promise to shoot my best friend in the head if he tries to eat my face off.”
As the overhead lights blinked again, the stench of their childhood friend rounded the corner only slightly before his darkened shadow blotted out what illumination remained. And as David stepped in front of Ethan, he raised his weapon and found a spot between the two gaping holes where Franklin’s eyes should have been.
26
She didn’t remember drifting off, however lying flat on her back, enveloped in the light-weight Siberian Down Comforter, it was easy to understand how it happened. With less than three hours of continuous sleep in the last day and a half, Emma just wanted to stay in bed.
She would have estimated it to be late afternoon, although up onto her right elbow and turning toward the clock, she’d only been away from her phone for just over two hours. The short unavoidable nap wasn’t nearly long enough, but with the images from the news still fresh in her mind, and the possibility that BXF was somehow involved, she tossed her feet off the bed and stood.
Across the antique European Brushed Oak flooring, she strode into the bathroom, opened the spigot, and looked into the mirror as the water warmed. Staring into her own reflection always brought a sense of peace, centered her, and brought her back to her childhood. Having nearly the identical facial features of her mother, she sometimes spoke into the mirror as if they were face to face.
“Mom, I pray that you and dad are alright. I don’t know what’s happening out there, and when I’ll see you again, but I want you to know that I love you.”
Patting the warm water against her face and neck, Emma reached for a hand towel, dried off, and before turning, stared at her own image once again. “For them, for all of them.”
Into the hall and stopping at her study, she scanned the room. As it came to her, she moved to the filing cabinet and knelt beside the lower drawer. Sliding it open, movement beyond the trio of frosted twelve-inch square windows caught her eye. She focused on the last window as the light came through in fits and starts. “Must be the trees again. They should have cut them back by now.”
Flipping through the individual files, she found what she was looking for. Precariously labeled “Research – Project Ares” she pulled out the inch-thick file and set it aside. Quickly rifling through what remained at the bottom of the drawer and then into her personal files, the second folder was nowhere to be found.
“Must have left that one at the office, damn it.”
Stepping back into the hall, shadows again danced beyond the study windows as she started for the living room. Before heading into the kitchen, she turned on the television, hoping for a bit of background noise, but all that remained was a snowstorm of static. Every channel from local broadcasts through the bigger cable networks had gone dark.
Moving to the cordless phone near the front door, she pressed the talk button. Nothing. No dial tone. No incessant alarm that typically signals a low or dead battery. Just dead silence.
Placing the handset back in its cradle, Emma turned and moved back into the kitchen. Having forgotten to eat anything since last night’s early dinner, the fuzzy light-headedness told her it was time to get something into her stomach.
Gripping the handle on the door to the refrigerator and reading the note she’d left for herself, it didn’t initially make sense. “You’re in trouble?”
Pulling the door open, she stepped back. “Yeah, I guess I am.”
Two half-gallon containers of “100 Percent Florida Grown Orange Juice” and three packets of fast food hot sauce weren’t what she was hoping to find. Looking through the clear glass into the fruit and vegetable drawers, they were as bare as the other four shelves.
Three glasses of mostly orange flavored sugar water and she was seated at her kitchen table with more questions than answers. First and most troubling was the problem going on in the city she had called home for the last year. How could this have happened so far from any of the facilities managed by BXF?
With the nearest base over five hundred miles to the north, it appeared unlikely that the two situations were related. She could attempt another call to Mr. Goodwin, although after the unusually awkward conversation they’d had earlier, she thought it better to wait a few days. If she were to get any definitive information from him, Emma needed to think through the conversation she intended to have a bit more before dialing.
If she had been relieved of her position at BXF, she would also need instructions on just how they wanted to transfer the responsibilities of the operation in Summer Mill. As far as she was aware, there were only a handful of people who even knew it existed. And those who did already had full-time positions.
“I need to call home.”
Reaching for her cell phone and powering it on, she smiled. “Damn persistent, I’ll give ‘em that.” Having missed another seven calls from Mr. or Mrs. Unknown, Emma was now more curious than irritated. And as she opened her favorites, with the intention of again trying to reach her brother, their timing could not have been better.
As the Unknown Caller again appeared across the top of the phone’s display, Emma took a deep breath. “If this is a sales call, they’re going to wish they never dialed this number.”
Pressing Accept and then Speaker, she set the phone on the table in front of her. “HELLO?”
“Emma… Emma Runner?”
“Yes, this is Em—”
The voice on the other end cut her short before she could finish. The man’s gritty voice and near perfect diction told her he was either a news reporter, a politician, or possibly military. “Ms. Runner, we don’t have much time, so I’m going to need you to listen very closely.”
“Wait, who is this and why the hell have you called me like fifty times this morning?”
“My name is Richard Daniels, Major Richard Daniels. I’m a business associate of your former employer. Now, I need you to listen. I need you to do exactly as I say. No more and no less.”
“Excuse me Major Daniels, but why on earth would I—”
The mystery man barked into the phone. “Look, there’s no time for pleasantries. Haven’t you seen the news this morning?”
“Yes, Los Angles is like a war zone, but I’m safely inside my home and don’t plan on leaving any time soon. And not that it’s any of your business, but I’ve also got a security team right outside.”
“Emma, your former superior Marcus Goodwin is and always was a waste of human DNA. I know he ended your employment with BXF earlier this morning and want to help. Actually, I think we may be able to assist one another.”
“Wait,” Emma said as she grabbed her phone and walked into the living room. “Are you offering me a job?”
“Not exactly. This is something a bit more involved.”
“Major
Daniels, if that’s even your real name, I appreciate the phone call, but I’ve got some thinking to do. I’ll tell you what, give me your number and once I get my career or what’s left of it sorted out, I’ll give you a call.”
The man on the other end of the line paused before speaking. It sounded as if he was speaking under his breath to someone on his end, before abruptly coming back. “Emma, go your window and without making a big production out of it, check on your security detail.”
“What?”
“Go do it, then we’ll talk.”
Back over to the bay window, she lowered the wood shutter just an inch and peered out into the street. The black SUV was gone. The space it occupied less than two hours earlier, as well as the street beyond, was much different than when she’d last walked through her front door.
She counted no less than two dozen people, some her neighbors, others unfamiliar. They appeared to struggle with the same affliction as the seniors from the news report earlier that morning. They shuffled without purpose from one driveway to the next, never focusing their attention on anything in particular. Their clothes were torn free in places, and most were marred with a thick burgundy glaze over much of their face and neck. Whatever this was had found its way into her neighborhood.
Out past her mailbox and across the street, her neighbor Melissa, a thirty-something mother of three, exited through an open garage door, apparently confronting those marching freely across her lawn. Her words were lost to Emma, although as the young mother waved her index finger and scolded a pair of wayward trespassers, she was backed into the driveway and taken down to the unforgiving concrete.
Turning away a half second too late, Emma pushed the shutters closed as the young woman’s head burst open on impact. The disturbance caught the attention of others in the area and before she turned back to the phone, her neighbor fell victim to the ravenous crowd. As the flesh was torn away from her neck, shoulders, and torso, all that remained were the bone-chilling screams that brought others in around her.
“Major Daniels, what is happening?”
“Emma.”
“Yes.”
“All I can tell you is that the world is going to be a different place from now on. And this isn’t just limited to Los Angeles, it’s everywhere.”
Her heart rate began to climb and her breaths were quick. “What do I do? Those men that brought me here are—”
“I know, they’re gone,” he said. “I also know that you’ve been cut off from BXF completely. Marcus Goodwin is pulling all his resources into the city for his own personal safety.”
“You said you wanted to help. What do you need me to do?”
“I will send someone for you later this evening or first thing in the morning. I have a secure location where I and a few others are going to ride this thing out. When we arrive there later today, I will send someone back for you.”
“Later tonight,” Emma said. “Or tomorrow?”
“I need to first make sure the place we’re heading to is safe. And as long as you keep your windows closed and your lights off, you will be fine.”
“Okay.”
“Emma, I will call you again when we arrive. Do not leave your home before that. Charge your phone now and stay put. We aren’t sure how long the power will stay on; it’s already out in some areas.”
“How will I—”
“Emma I have to go. Do you have a weapon in your home?”
“Yes, I have a handgun, but I haven’t shot it in—”
“Good, keep it with you at all times. I will be in touch.”
27
His left foot had gone numb within just the last five minutes. The volume in his right ear had also adjusted itself down to slightly above a whisper as the freezing wind pelted the exposed skin along half of his body. Griffin’s lower back tightened as he dragged the second body away from the low-hanging blue spruce and laid it alongside the others.
They’d gotten to Cora, only seconds before he did, although without completely disrobing her, he couldn’t be certain she hadn’t been infected. Coagulated blood dried in dense patches along her face and then disappeared into the collar of her jacket. And as he pulled the black nylon away from her neck, four scratch marks traced a line from her clavicle into her armpit.
Dropping his hands into the snow, Griffin pressed a fistful of frozen flakes into Cora’s wound. And as it melted into the warmth of her skin, he scanned the treeline for any additional pursuers.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” he said under his breath.
Wiping away the cracked trails of red that covered the scratches brought him no closer to an answer. The unprotected skin near her bra strap had grown bright red from the extreme temperature change and seemed to antagonize the ambiguous scores backlit in red.
At his back, and judging from what he remembered of the topography, probably no more than twenty seconds off, something disturbed the rhythmic cadence of the storm. Without time to check his weapon, he recounted in his head the shots he’d taken since leaving the roadway.
Sliding the Glock into his waistband, he reached for Cora’s left arm as she involuntarily lurched forward. Her eyes shot open as she screamed and reached for Griffin’s face. Clutching her wrist and leaning forward, he used his free hand to push her leg up under her, and then tossed her onto his back. “Just keep quiet and hold on.”
Cora continued to struggle against his tensed arms, as he stood from a squatting position and turned in the direction of the commotion not quite twenty yards back. “Will you just let me save your ass?”
Twisting back to center, Griffin fought the urge to run as he started downhill. Planning each step as he moved along the ice slicked hillside, he grew more confident with each new outcropping. As he settled into a rhythm, Cora had also realized their situation or had given into whatever was happening to her. Either way, she was now quiet and had stopped resisting.
As the sloshing footsteps at his back intensified, Griffin was unable to decipher his from theirs, and wouldn’t be able to estimate their distance without stopping and turning. Left with no other options, he continued through the maze-like terrain and barked into the storm. “Cora.”
She didn’t initially respond, although he could feel her warm breath against the back of his bare neck, and that pushed him to increase his speed. She bounced lightly off his shoulders with each passing step and as he cut sharply to the left and pushed off the thick base of the frosted spruce, the centrifugal force pulled Cora’s body in the opposite direction.
“Hey,” she said. “What’s going—”
“Hold on tight,” Griffin shouted through labored breaths. “And tell me how close they are.”
As he pushed his way through a dense patch of frozen juniper, the next glade, more than fifty yards from end to end, came into view. Stepping down into a bed of knee deep powder, Griffin’s right foot shifted as it contacted a belt of ice covered shale, sending both he and Cora onto their backs.
Rolling over and onto his hands and knees, he reached for Cora and pulled her into his chest. The low branches in the gap between the dusted shrubs began to flit back and forth. Others were coming, although if they stayed hidden below the white deck, he and Cora may just have a chance. He only needed five minutes without the searing pain that blistered both his hands and his feet, just a few minutes to catch his breath.
Sliding down into the powdery refuge, he felt his internal temperature drop with each second that fell away. Whispering to Cora, they laid back against a compacted mound of snow as their bodies sat shoulder to shoulder. “Stay down. Let’s give them a few minutes to scatter. I think I found our way out.”
Now fully alert, Cora wrapped her hands around his and pulled them into her tattered jacket. “We’re gonna die out here. Aren’t we.”
“No,” Griffin said. “We’re not.”
Sliding closer, Cora pulled her right hand away momentarily and brushed the melting snow out of his hair. “I’m not even sure that we ar
en’t already dead. Because I can’t imagine hell being much worse than this.”
Griffin laughed, but made sure to keep his volume contained to the three-foot cavern they presently occupied. “How’s your side?”
“Numb.”
“Your hands and feet?”
“Same,” Cora said. “You?”
“I’ll be fine. I guess it’s a good thing I can’t feel anything below my calves, because we’re gonna need to run. You up for that?”
“I don’t know,” Cora said. “I guess.”
“Okay, another sixty seconds and we go. We need to get way out in front of them so they lose our trail, so once we stand, we’re not gonna look back. We’re not gonna slow down and we’re definitely not gonna stop, no matter what. Does that work for you?”
“Sure,” Cora said. “I just hope my body agrees.”
Turning to face her, Griffin said, “I know I said I didn’t want to know anything about your past, but I have to ask one question.”
Cora furrowed her brow and pulled in the corner of her mouth. “Okay?”
“I don’t pretend to know much about where you and the others came from, but I’d always heard that the guards weren’t allowed to carry weapons.”
“They weren’t. A few of them maybe had some pepper spray, but that was all.”
“Got it… so why we’re those guards carrying weapons?”
“I’m not sure, maybe they knew something we didn’t.”
“Maybe?”
28
Out of the alcove and into the hall, their massive childhood friend now rested comfortably in a heap, blood collecting around his oversized frame. Quickly moving around the body, Ethan was careful to avoid stepping directly into what remained of Franklin’s obliterated head. Pausing, he nodded further into the hall, where three additional cots had begun to stir. “This is just getting ridiculous.”
