Lieutenant King wasted little time on the woman or her fate. She’d likely turned into a zombie and attacked a human. A human who fought back and bashed her head in with the closest thing they could find.
As the soldiers moved past, Dylan tried not to look. She’d seen enough death to last her a lifetime. While she was ready and willing to kill zombies, she didn’t revel in it. It was often the small shit that haunted your dreams, like the dead eyes of the zombie kid that tried to munch her back at the roadblock in Charleston.
They left the entrance behind and moved deeper into the facility. At one stage, Lieutenant King raised his hand, and everybody froze. A rasping groan echoed through the hallway, growing louder and louder.
A zombie staggered around a bend and snarled when it spotted them. It lifted both hands and charged. One of King’s men, a crack shot judging by his aim, pulled the trigger twice. Both bullets scored a hit — one in the shoulder, the other in the head.
The infected collapsed to the ground but kept sliding forward, carried by momentum. When it finally stopped, King stepped forward and nudged it with his foot. “Good shooting, Perez.”
“Thank you, Sir,” Perez acknowledged.
For several seconds they waited as the shots echoed around them, muffled by the silencer on Perez’ rifle. As usual, Saul had been right. While not cutting out the noise, it did lower it to an acceptable level. When no more zombies attacked, they moved onward.
King’s unit worked like a well-oiled machine. The men understood his commands, watched each other’s backs, and never lost their cool, even when raging infected jumped out of nowhere. They were thorough, too, not missing a beat. They looked under tables and counters, inside closets and cupboards, behind desks and filing cabinets. Not even the air vents were neglected. Every nook and cranny was searched.
Dylan admired their methods, though she didn’t understand the half of what King said. Most of his commands went over her head, and she followed along by copying the rest. Saul and Nick understood the man, and they were able to meld with the unit in a tactical manner, which was more than she could say for herself. It wasn’t long before she began to feel like a third wheel. I could’ve stayed with Tara. They don’t need me.
In this fashion, King and his men cleared the bottom floor before moving to the next. They used the stairs because no one trusted the elevators, though Dylan would’ve preferred taking her chances in a metal box than up the dark, shadowed steps.
They filed out of the stairwell and onto the next floor, pausing to take it all in. More bodies littered the floor: Long dead zombies who got killed during the initial attack. The stench of decay lay thick in the air, and not even the bandanna could block the smell.
Dylan stared at the nearest corpse. It was a man dressed in a lab coat, his eye sockets empty, and his flesh liquifying as nature took its course. Maggots wriggled beneath his clothes, giving the illusion of movement, and she quickly looked away. Don’t throw up, don’t throw up.
Lieutenant King barked out several orders, and his men dragged the bodies aside to clear a path. Once the way was open, they continued with their mission. More scenes of carnage revealed themselves as they progressed: A dismembered hand lay on the floor, a woman was draped across a windowsill with a shard of glass protruding from her back, and a security guard sat against the wall with his gun in his hand and a hole in his head.
The rest of the lab was equally as grim. They encountered, and quietly dispatched, a few more zombies, each one hungrier than the last. These were mostly trapped inside rooms, unable to get out.
The unit entered the various laboratories through metal doors that were several inches thick and fitted with airtight seals in case the lethal agents within were to escape. Inside were unlocked freezers with samples of deadly biological organisms, and overhead orange lights warned of harmful contamination. Across the hall, decontamination suits hung within easy reach.
To Dylan, they looked spooky. Plastic suits in orange and blue that still held the shape of their former occupants. Nearby chemical showers were not in use, but the doors stood open, and the spigots ready to spray. A room nicknamed “the slammer,” boasted three plastic-encased beds available to quarantine any contaminated workers while another lab was nicknamed “the morgue.”
The security measures seemed wasted to Dylan. None of it helped even a little the day the lab fell prey to the Vita virus. All it took was for one infected human to fool the rest and boom! Lab down. Guess nothing’s foolproof, after all. No matter what you do.
Finally, King waved them onward, and they moved deeper into the lab. So far, they’d encountered very few infected, which meant they were probably going to run into all hundred-plus of them at once. Tension rippled through the unit, and Dylan gripped her machete with sweaty palms. Suddenly, a rifle looked like a better option.
A shudder worked its way down her spine when they braved the dark stairwell once more. Each step they took echoed up and down the confined space until she was sure the entire zombie population knew they were. She leaned over the railing and looked down into the dark space below. Any manner of awful things could be hiding in its depths, and she found it hard to look away. She jumped when a hand touched her elbow.
“Come on, Dylan,” Nick said. “We’re falling behind.”
Sorry,” she said, running up the stairs with haste.
She was the last to step onto the floor, and the Lieutenant threw her a sharp look. They were about to move forward when one of King’s men accidentally knocked his gun against a steel gurney. To the infected, it sounded like the dinner bell rang, and they came running. Within seconds, all hell broke loose and howling filled the corridors.
“Take your positions, men,” Lieutenant King cried.
A swarm of zombies appeared from two directions at once, their faces contorted with hunger. They sprang at the soldiers with eager cries, their arms and hands extended.
“Fire!”
A hail of bullets cut through the undead ranks, and they fell one after the other. Still, they kept coming, and the falling bodies stacked up until they were three-deep. Congealed blood pooled onto the tiled floors and spattered the soldiers like black rain.
A couple of zombies sprang over their dead friends and vaulted toward the unit. One charged through its center and came straight at Dylan. Swallowing her panic, she stepped to the side. As the infected bowled past her, she brought her machete down onto its head with both hands. The blade sank into the crown of its skull with a solid thunk. With one foot planted on the zombie’s back, she yanked her weapon free.
The sound of running feet heralded the arrival of another swarm, and Dylan whirled around to face them. They were everywhere, and she hacked and slashed at their faces with her blade. Gore spattered onto her uniform, and she almost fell when her boot landed in a puddle of blood. A set of hands yanked her out of the path of two raging zombies, and she found herself facing one of King’s men.
“This way,” he shouted, pointing to an empty corridor. When she hesitated, he shoved her toward it. “Run!”
Dylan ran, hoping the rest would follow. Within seconds, she found herself lost in a maze of hallways lined by glass-fronted labs. Echoing footsteps caused her to look over her shoulder, and she spotted a group of zombies close on her heels. Their snarls filled her ears until it became her entire world.
Terror spurred her onward, and she flew past the labs. They were all shut, and she didn’t have the passwords or keycards to any of them. Desperation set in, and her breathing sawed in and out of her lungs.
A barrage of gunfire caused hope to flare in her chest, and she slowed. The infected behind her turned to face their new enemy, and more shots echoed through the passage. One by one, they fell, and she huddled against a wall, hoping not to get hit by a stray bullet.
The next moment, Nick was there, hauling her to her feet. His face was red, and he shouted at her in a hoarse voice. “Why did you run away? We always stick together!”
“
I don’t know. It was that other guy,” she cried, confusion flooding her mind. What was he going on about? She was told to run.
“Run, there’s more coming,” Nick said, and they sprinted further down the corridor. Suddenly, another group of infected emerged at the far end of the hall, cutting off their escape. Dylan’s heart stuttered in her chest, and she stumbled to a halt. “What now?”
Nick shook his head, his lips pressed together in a thin line. “We fight.”
He began shooting at the nearest zombies, but within seconds, his rifle clicked on empty. “I’m out.”
While he fumbled for a fresh magazine, Dylan pulled out her own gun and began to shoot, but they were surrounded. Just when she thought all was lost, she spotted an open lab. Its door was propped open by a foot while the rest of the corpse lay inside the room. “Over there!”
Sprinting toward the door, Dylan shoved her way inside. Without pause, she grabbed the corpse by its jacket and threw it aside with the kind of strength she didn’t know she possessed. Nick followed, and together they slammed the door shut. The automatic locking mechanism slid into place, sealing them inside the lab.
Dylan backed away from the glass, heaving for breath. Within moments, her vision was filled with the faces of the infected. They hammered on the glass with their fists, threw themselves at it, and even smashed their heads against it, driven mad by the tantalizing flesh that hovered out of reach.
“Can they break through the glass?” she asked.
“I don’t think so. It’s an inch thick. Not your normal household variety,” Nick replied, his face pale.
“Bulletproof?”
“Probably not,” he said.
“Then watch where you’re waving that thing,” Dylan said, pointing to his rifle while holstering her Beretta.
“It’s empty anyway,” he said, ejecting the magazine. He removed a new one from his vest and popped it in with a grim smile. “That’s better.”
“I guess we’d better call for help?” Dylan asked.
“I’ll do it,” Nick said. With the use of his radio, he called Saul and explained to him where they were, and that they were safe for the time being.
“Sit tight. We’ll be there as soon as we can. Over,” Saul replied, and Dylan was glad to hear he was still alive. He’d better be, or Tara will kill me.
Dylan sank onto the nearest counter, her legs trembling. “What did you mean when you asked why I ran? One of King’s soldiers told me to. He shoved me down that hallway. I thought the rest of you would follow.”
Nick shook his head. “They went the other way. I’m only here because I spotted you running off on your own. A stupid stunt if I ever saw one.”
“You know I wouldn’t do that,” Dylan said.
“Wouldn’t you?” he asked. “Because I thought I knew you, but it seems I don’t. Not really.”
Dylan groaned. “Is this because of that kiss?”
Nick didn’t reply. He simply looked the other way, his expression blank.
“You really want to do this now?” she asked, waving at the infected pressed to the glass. “We’re trapped in a glass box surrounded by zombies.”
When he still said nothing, she sighed. “Fine. Let’s do this. Yes, Ethan kissed me. No, I didn’t ask him to. It was as much of a surprise to me as to you.”
“You expect me to believe that?” Nick asked, his voice bitter. “I’ve seen the way you two act around each other. He moons over you, and you do nothing to stop it.”
Dylan gasped. “He doesn’t moon over me. We talk, that’s all. We’re friends.”
“Just friends?”
Red-hot anger flowed through Dylan’s veins, and she jumped up. “You know what? I don’t expect you to believe me, and I don’t care. When this is over, I’m out of here, and you two can fight over my shadow.”
With her arms folded, she turned her back on him. After a while, he sighed and said, “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry for what? Calling me a liar, or being an asshole?” Dylan asked.
“Both,” he said. “I’ll admit it. I’m jealous. I like you, and I thought we had something going. Did I misread the signs? Do you like Ethan more than me?”
Dylan stared at the floor, not sure what to say or even think. Her thoughts were a mess, and her feelings a mystery. “I don’t know how I feel about anyone, Nick. All I know is that I have unfinished business out there.”
“This Amy and Alex stuff?” Nick asked.
“Yeah, they’re like a brother and sister to me. Especially, Amy, and I need to find her,” Dylan explained. “How can I start something with anyone if I know I’m going to leave?”
“What if I said I’d go with you?”
“I’d say you were out of your mind,” Dylan replied. “It’s dangerous out there, and you’re better off here. Besides —”
“Dylan, forget about all of that. We’ve got problems,” Nick interrupted, his voice strained.
“Why? What’s wrong?” Dylan asked, whirling around to face him.
“The glass isn’t going to last,” he said, pointing at a spot.
Dylan stared at the window, her eyes widening when she spotted the crack. In front of her horrified gaze, it ran upward before splitting into a starburst. More cracks joined the first, forming a pretty pattern across its breadth — a pattern of death. “I thought you said it couldn’t break.”
“I was wrong. There’s too many of them pressing at once.”
“You’d better tell Saul to hurry,” Dylan said. “Or, we’ll be zombie chow soon.”
While Nick got onto the radio, Dylan gathered all the loose furniture around them. That formed a half-moon barricade that might give them a few extra seconds to fight. With shaking hands, she pulled out her Beretta. The machete wouldn’t do her much good now. With the gun held in both hands, she glanced at Nick. “We’re going to die within the next few seconds.”
“Probably.”
“It’s been nice knowing you,” she added.
He winked at her. “See you in heaven.”
“Or hell.”
The glass shattered, bursting into a million pieces, and the infected threw themselves over the jagged edges. They wormed their way across, leaving shredded flesh and entrails behind.
Dylan chose her shots with care. She didn’t have ammo to waste, and she couldn’t afford to miss. Luckily, it was close range, and she was able to make the most of her shots. Nick dealt fearsome damage with his rifle, and the room was filled with exploding heads.
To Dylan, it resembled a watermelon fight. Only this time, the enemy wasn’t the other school kids, and the pink stuff wasn’t fruit. When her gun clicked on empty, she cried, “I’m out.”
“Reload, I’ll cover you,” Nick said, and Dylan hurried to obey.
Once her gun was full, she tossed him a grin. “All good. Your turn.”
With the Beretta gripped in both hands, she laid down a blanket of fire while Nick refilled his gun. The zombies were coming in thick and fast, but they struggled to get past each other. As more of them died, they blocked the shattered window with their bodies, forming a natural barricade
This granted Dylan and Nick a small opportunity. If they could keep the zombies from getting in, they might be able to last long enough to be rescued.
That hope was shattered when the first one wormed its way through a tiny space and fell to the floor. It scrambled upright and lunged for Dylan. She snapped off a couple of shots that missed and tossed aside her gun. Grabbing her machete, she stabbed it through the soft tissue underneath the chin. The blade slid into the roof of the mouth and pierced the brain.
With a hard pull, Dylan freed her weapon. As more zombies got through, she lost herself in the rhythm of hacking and slashing at anything that moved. Soon, she felt the familiar haze of an episode coming on.
Fresh energy filled her muscles, and anger took the place of fatigue. The thrill of the kill buzzed through her veins and exploded in her mind. For once, it wasn’t all-consumin
g, and she didn’t black out. Instead, she had full control of her actions.
It was a strange experience. It made her stronger, faster, and fiercer, but it also made her reckless. It wasn’t long before Nick pulled her back to his side when she wanted to take the fight to the zombies.
“Stick with me, Dylan. Stay behind the barricade,” he cried.
“Whatever you say, Boss,” she answered with a blood-splattered grin.
“Are you enjoying this?” he asked with disbelief.
“Aren’t you?”
“Maybe just a little,” he admitted. “But, we’re still going to die. There’s too many of them.”
“I know,” Dylan answered. “Let’s make it count.”
They continued to fight, taking down one infected after the other. The bodies piled up around them, hacked to death by machete or shot by the rifle. When the rifle bullets ran out, Nick switched to his handgun. When that emptied, she passed him her magazines. When that ran out too, he grabbed his knife. As he’d predicted, though, it couldn’t last. There were too many.
Dylan, still wielding her machete, gasped for oxygen. Her limbs quivered with fatigue, and sweat streamed down her skin. The salt stung her eyes, and she was rapidly losing strength. Finally, when she barely had the energy to lift her blade, the first zombie breached their barricade.
It jumped on her, its fingers closing around her throat. Teeth snapped at her face, and she had to use every ounce of will she had left to keep the monster at bay. Nick grabbed it by the shoulders and flung it away with an angry roar.
She scrambled to her feet and reached for her discarded Beretta. It still had a few bullets left in the magazine. At point-blank range, she shot two more zombies trying to climb over the barricade. She aimed at the third and pulled the trigger. Its snarling face disappeared in a cloud of blood and brains. Then her ears picked up a different sound: Automatic gunfire. “Nick? Is it them?”
He nodded, still wielding his knife. “It has to be.”
“Finally!”
The infected clamoring to get inside the lab began to fall away. Dylan and Nick continued to fight, hope granting them extra strength. The zombies thinned until she could see through their ranks and spotted Saul. “It is them. It’s Saul!”
Rise of the Undead Box Set | Books 1-3 | Apocalypse Z Page 40