KILL BOX: A Post-Apocalyptic Pandemic Thriller (The Zulu Virus Chronicles Book 2)

by Steven Konkoly

  “This is out of control,” he hissed, shaking his head. “We need to go back.”

  Hale pushed him aside and rushed forward into the firing line, pointing her rifle at the bloodstained gang of human ghouls pushing uncomfortably close to their perimeter. She repeatedly pressed the trigger, not sure if she was helping or hurting the situation. It didn’t matter. She couldn’t sit back and do nothing. Not if these things kept coming out of the woodwork like this.

  Chapter 23

  Larsen stopped firing when the last crazy took a bullet through the forehead, but the doctor continued to pull her trigger until the rifle was empty, drawing another glitchy lunatic off the street visible between the two houses. He let it take several steps down the path before firing a single shot through its head, dropping it like a ragdoll.

  “Get Rambo over there squared away,” said Larsen. “A little trigger discipline goes a long way.”

  “A little thank-you might go a long way, too,” said Hale.

  “Thank you for bringing one more crazy at us,” said Larsen. “And you’re welcome for the rescue.”

  “I’ll thank you when the rescue is complete.”

  “You’re free to head back,” said Larsen, nodding at Chang’s apartment building.

  “That’s no longer an option thanks to you,” said Hale.

  “It was never an option,” said Larsen. “Do I have to explain why?”

  “Cut the chatter,” said David. “We need to focus.”

  Another figure appeared on the street, pausing for a second to look at them before moving on—unable to resist the sound of a pitched battle to the west. A few more people ran past the opening, heading in the same direction.

  “This might be harder than we thought,” said Larsen, changing rifle magazines. “Those pyrotechnic devices caught the attention of every crazy within a two-mile radius.”

  “We should wait here until the streets clear,” said David.

  “We don’t have that kind of time,” said Larsen, checking his watch. “Eight minutes. And you can bet your ass that the team fighting for its life out there has reported its situation. We need to be tucked away inside NevoTech’s campus when the recovery mission gets here.”

  “Agreed,” said David.

  “I’ll make you a deal, Larsen,” said Hale.

  “Really?” said Larsen.

  “You get me to NevoTech in one piece, and I’ll patch up your leg,” she said, the faintest traces of a grin breaking through her serious façade.

  “If you throw in no more full-mag shooting sprees, it’s a deal,” said Larsen.

  “Deal.”

  While David showed her how to reload the rifle, a large group of infected scrambled past the gap between houses.

  “Keep everyone well out of sight until we’re ready to move,” said Larsen before transmitting over the control net. “Gary, what are we looking at?”

  Gary Hoenig’s voice crackled in his earpiece. “I was just about to get in touch. The team is trapped outside, moving west along the front fence. They’re thirty seconds from being overrun. I’ve never seen this many crazies converge on the parking lot before. What’s your status?”

  “Hiding out in a backyard. Maybe fifty feet from Merrill Street,” said Larsen. “I see a lot of foot traffic on Merrill.”

  “Yeah. And it’s not letting up from what I can tell,” said Hoenig. “I’d suggest you reroute farther south, but you’ll probably run into the same problem, except you’ll be on the streets longer.”

  “Can Roscoe give us a smoke screen?”

  “Negative. Roscoe is the only thing keeping that team from punching a hole in the fence with explosives. I can redirect his attention when I know for sure that the team is dead.”

  “Then I guess we’ll have to run and gun this,” said Larsen.

  “Godspeed,” said Hoenig.

  Larsen shook his head. “This is going to suck.”

  “Run and gun?” said Hale.

  “It’s exactly what it sounds like. We run and gun our way to the northeast gate,” said Larsen, drawing his suppressed pistol and offering it to Jeremy.

  “What about the other rifle?” said Jeremy, pointing at the weapon slung across David’s back. “Wouldn’t that be more effective? I know how to shoot one of those. I mean, I’ve seen it done a lot. And I used to play Battlefield 4.”

  Larsen stared at him for a second, wondering if he should rescind the pistol offer.

  “Suppressed weapons only,” said Larsen. “Unless you want to become the center of attention on Merrill Street.”

  Jeremy accepted the pistol, gingerly handling it like something plucked from a toilet.

  “No safety. You just point and pull the trigger,” said Larsen.

  The young man nodded, still looking nervous.

  “What’s the plan?” said David.

  “You’re not going to like it,” said Larsen.

  “Tell me something I don’t know.”

  “We’ll switch up the order,” said Larsen. “You and Dan up front. Me in the back. They’ll be coming up behind us pretty quick.”

  “We have a few smoke grenades,” said Howard, patting the pouch attached to his vest. “How do you want to use them?”

  “I don’t want to be messing with those while we’re on the run,” said Larsen. “We’ll toss them east on Merrill before we take off.”

  “How far are we running?” said Hale.

  “Maybe two football fields,” said Howard. “It’s not very far. We can be at the gate in less than a minute.”

  “If we don’t hit any bumps along the way,” said Hale, looking at David.

  “I expect a bumpy ride,” said the cop.

  “Or we might sail right through the gate without a problem,” said Larsen, pausing to scan their faces. “Nobody’s buying that one?”

  Nobody said a word.

  “Only one way to find out,” said Larsen.

  Chapter 24

  David cautiously approached the front corner of the house on Merrill Street, leading with his rifle. If another swarm passed by, there was no chance he would go unnoticed. Their survival would depend on an immediate reaction to the threat—and a lot of bullets. The suppressor attached to Howard’s rifle was visible in his peripheral vision, aiming in the same direction. If a large swarm materialized, the rest of the group would swing out and form a tight firing line. That was the extent of the plan. It was simply assumed that run like hell would follow.

  He tucked his elbow in and inched the rifle around the corner, relieved to find the street mostly empty. Three disheveled crazies ran in their direction, one of them spotting him immediately.

  “Three headed our way,” said David. “Get the smoke ready. Need an assist, Howard.”

  Howard swung around to his right, both of their rifles firing simultaneously. David took the third one down before the other two hit the street.

  “Pop the smoke!” said David. “Time to move!”

  They took off jogging, slowly building speed as they angled across the street. Two hollow metallic thunks echoed somewhere behind him, followed by a loud hissing sound. A quick glance over his shoulder confirmed that the smoke grenades had been satisfactorily deployed. It also confirmed that the stream of infected into the area hadn’t really slowed. Beyond the thickening white screen, at least a half-dozen people shambled in their direction from the intersection of Merrill Street and Virginia Avenue.

  “You got that, Larsen?” said David.

  A dozen evenly spaced shots initially answered his question.

  “Don’t worry about me,” said Larsen. “I’ll let you know if I need help.”

  David started to form a smart-ass response, but a broken screen door flew open two houses down from them, disgorging a neatly dressed man, who stumbled down the concrete stoop and fell to his hands and knees. The guy looked up at them, and for a brief moment, he thought the man was normal. Someone who had been holed up inside, waiting for the perfect moment to escape or th
e right group of people to follow out of the city. His hope was short-lived. The man held a kitchen knife tightly in one of his hands, seemingly oblivious to the fact that he’d ripped half of the skin on his knuckles away when he hit the street.

  Howard’s rifle cracked twice, knocking him flat to the pavement. Up ahead, at the intersection of Merrill and East Street, a small gaggle of crazies headed toward the NevoTech parking lot slowed to a walk, searching for the new source of the gunfire. He considered stopping on the street to take an aimed shot, but decided against it. Time would decide whether they lived or died on these streets. The less time they spent on this side of the gate, the better their odds of surviving. He picked up the pace, steadying his rifle the best he could manage—while firing repeatedly.

  A second group replaced the first, eating up the rest of his rifle magazine. He reloaded on the fly and put the rifle back into action against individual targets streaming into the intersection they were rapidly approaching. There was no doubt that the infected population of Indianapolis would hotly contest their entry, requiring a temporary perimeter around the gate. His earpiece came to life.

  “Dan, this is Gary. The team along the front fence line has been completely overrun. They’re tearing them to pieces. Won’t be long until they shift their attention in your direction.”

  “Can you give us another pyro?” said Howard. “And some smoke?”

  “Forget the smoke,” said Larsen. “Fire off the rest of the pyro grenades at the western side of the parking lot. We just need a diversion to keep the main swarm off us.”

  “A lot of them are already headed in your direction,” said Hoenig.

  “Then get Roscoe on his sniper rifle,” said Larsen. “Have him focus on the area around our gate.”

  “Consider it done,” said Hoenig. “Dan, do you want me to green-light the gate?”

  “Yes. Open it now,” said Howard. “We’re almost there.”

  “What the fuck does green-light mean?” yelled David, firing at hostiles on East Street.

  “It means he’s going to open the gate remotely,” said Howard.

  “Why didn’t he do that on the way out?”

  “Because we’ve had problems with the remote system in the past,” said Howard.

  “What kind of problems?”

  “The turnstile occasionally remains open,” said Howard before firing several bullets at various targets approaching from the parking lot.

  “Then what?”

  “Then we have to reset the gate, which takes time.”

  David took a knee in the middle of the intersection, waving the rest of the group toward the gate. He reloaded and shifted his fire to the crazies arriving from the parking lot. Larsen squatted next to him, firing at fast movers coming from both directions on East Street.

  “Move closer to the gate, or we’ll get cut off,” said Larsen, patting his shoulder.

  He sprinted toward the group approaching the gate, taking a new position between the parking lot and the northeast corner of the fence. Larsen kneeled to the right of him, his rifle barking a relentless torrent of semiautomatic fire. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see that part of their group had disappeared through the turnstile.

  Larsen slapped his shoulder. “Empty your mag and get through the gate!”

  Working his rifle back and forth across the leading crazies, he barely made a dent in the surging horde. When the rifle’s slide locked in the open position, he turned and ran, spotting Howard crouched next to the turnstile—waving him through. When he got to the other side, David reloaded and took a position next to Dr. Hale along the fence next to the gate.

  They fired bullet after bullet into the asynchronous mob spilling out of the parking lot as Larsen passed through. Howard slid into the gate a fraction of a second before the first wave of crazies slammed headlong into the turnstile with a sickening thud. He managed to push the rotating security bars far enough to separate himself from the wave of crashing bodies, but not far enough to be released inside the campus. A tangle of flesh jammed the rotating mechanism, bones snapping as Howard frantically rammed his shoulder into the thick cylindrical bars in front of him.

  David pulled Dr. Hale back just in time to keep her rifle from being snatched through the fence. He joined Larsen at the turnstile, grabbing one of the bars with both hands and pulling with all of his weight. The substantial metal cage didn’t budge.

  “Shoot at the body parts jammed in the gate!” said Larsen. “Maybe we can get this to move.”

  Howard shook his head. “It won’t make a difference! The gate mechanism automatically locks in place when it detects a jam—to prevent further injury. The only way I’m getting out of this is by going back out!”

  His earpiece crackled.

  “Dan, this is Gary. We can cut you out of that. We have a hydraulic cutter for this precise scenario. I can have Mitch and Sean at the gate with the cutter in five minutes.”

  “What about the helos?” said Howard, directing the question at Larsen.

  “I’m not leaving you out here,” said Larsen. “David, get Dr. Hale and Jeremy inside. I’ll stay with Dan. It’ll take the extraction team some time to piece things together back at Chang’s apartment.”

  “Gary, send Mitch and Sean,” said Howard.

  “Once they get the compressor running, they’ll have you out of there in less than a minute,” said Hoenig.

  “Sounds good right about now,” said Howard, pressing his body tightly against the bars. “This is the creepiest fucking—”

  His comment was cut short by gunshots from the other side of the gate. David crouched instinctively and scooted behind one of the thick metal pillars anchoring the gate in place.

  “We need to thin this out!” said Larsen.

  “How? It’s one giant mass of people on the other side,” said David.

  “Don’t waste the bullets,” said Howard.

  A bullet struck the turnstile bars, ricocheting back into the crazies.

  “I should be safe enough in here until they cut me out,” said Howard.

  Before either of them could respond, Howard shrieked in agony, clutching at the back of his neck. His body slammed violently backward, the tip of a knife punching through the left side of his neck. Bright red arterial spray pulsed through the bars, splattering David’s face. Unable to immediately conjure any solution to Howard’s desperate plight, David defaulted to his rifle, methodically emptying a thirty-round magazine into the murderous herd of crazies on the other side of the turnstile. When he dropped the magazine from the rifle and reached for another, Larsen grabbed his wrist.

  “It’s over. There’s absolutely nothing we can do for him.”

  Howard slumped to his knees against the turnstile wall, a weak stream of blood rhythmically pumping onto his shoulder. He groaned, trying to speak words that had no chance of forming. David pressed his forehead against the blood-washed metal and gripped Howard’s hand through the bars.

  “You saved a lot of lives going on this mission. Nobody will forget this.”

  Howard gurgled an unintelligible sound, a look of desperation washing over his face. He was trying to communicate. David locked eyes with Howard, momentarily blocking out the insane chaos a few feet away.

  “Do you need to tell me something?”

  Howard nodded and tried to speak. He understood.

  “Your family?”

  Another nod.

  “Where are they?”

  He shook his head.

  “Are they safe?”

  No response.

  “You want me to find them? Make sure they’re safe?”

  Another shake.

  “His family is here,” said Hoenig over the tactical net.

  Howard grunted once and sank a little closer to the concrete underneath him.

  “We’ll make sure they get through this okay,” said Hoenig. “I’m locking down this gate. Go in peace, my friend.”

  Howard nodded, tears streaming down his c
heeks. Larsen reached through the bars and clasped both of their hands.

  “It was an honor fighting by your side,” said Larsen. “Don’t worry about your family. They’re my family now.”

  “And mine,” said David.

  A faint smile crossed his face before his eyes closed and the smile disappeared. David tightened his grip on Howard’s hand, once again blocking out the sheer madness of it all.

  “David,” said Larsen, urgently shaking his arm.

  He heard it over the inhuman discordance beyond the gate. The deep, rhythmic thumping of helicopter blades. Out of the frying pan—into the microwave.

  “You okay?” said Larsen, pulling him to his feet. “We need to go!”

  He shook his head, tears in his eyes. “I’m alive.”

  “That’s all that counts in a situation like this,” said Larsen. “Trust me.”

  “I guess,” said David, not at all comforted by his words.

  Chapter 25

  Dr. Lauren Hale hurried inside the NevoTech building as the sound of helicopters grew louder. She still didn’t understand the full scope of Larsen’s urgency, but given the bizarre, nearly inexplicable circumstances surrounding her rescue, and the fact that the head of security at NevoTech had given his life to bring her back, she wasn’t about to argue. She held the door open for their return, taking note of Larsen’s condition.

  “You’re going with me to medical,” said Hale.

  “I’ll meet you there after these helicopters leave,” said Larsen.

  “You need more than another wad of hemostatic powder and a compress.”

  “This isn’t the first time I’ve been shot,” said Larsen.

  “You want it to be your last?”

  “Actually, yes, I do,” said Larsen, grinning.

  “You know what I meant,” said Hale, turning to David. “Can you help me out here?”

  “You look like shit,” said David.