A soldier at the rear slowed to a halt. She raised a confused hand to her neck, then sank to her knees, and slumped forwards. Two more fell the same way, while the sergeant and three others plunged across the threshold.
The swirling mass of butterflies hurtled towards the doorway, closing in on their prey.
“Wait!” cried a fifth soldier, dashing towards them.
Lucy held the door, anxiously. The man’s eyes were wide with fear. His face yearned to reach the doorway, but the swarm was only yards behind. The sergeant seized the door from Lucy and pulled it shut with a clang.
“Sarge, don’t do this!” cried the soldier outside.
He slammed into the door, pounding it desperately. Within moments, he had fallen silent. His body hit the ground with a thud.
As the city’s butterfly siren revved into action, Lucy hoped to God the fire and smoke spewing from the decimated reception would be enough to deter the butterflies from pouring in through the rupture behind them.
“Drop your weapons,” said Lopez, pointing his handgun at the four soldiers sheltering beside them.
No-one moved. The soldiers’ weapons were lowered, but still in their hands; they could shoot at any moment. If they did, Lopez wouldn’t be able to stop all four.
“What’s our play, Sarge?” called one of the soldiers, not taking his eyes off Lopez.
The sergeant moved to place her second hand on her rifle, but Lucy intervened.
“You owe us,” she said, eyeballing the woman.
“What’s with his eye?” said the sergeant, nodding to Lopez.
“Immaterial. We saved your lives,” said Lucy.
“Stand down, soldiers,” said the sergeant, biting her lip.
“Now drop your weapons,” said Lopez.
“That ain’t gonna happen, Major. But I think us not shooting you is a good compromise. We need to talk about what the hell you’re doing in here,” replied the sergeant.
“A cult has broken into this facility and they’re massacring the inmates. They blew up the entrance, and they’re armed. We urgently need your help,” said Lucy.
“And what about them?” said the sergeant, casting her eyes across the crowd of infecteds.
A scream rang out from the corridor.
“We don’t have time for this, Lucy. Let’s go,” said Lopez, edging towards the corridor, keeping his eyes trained on the armed soldiers.
“There aren’t enough of us to stop them. Are you with us or not?” said Lucy.
The sergeant spat resentfully then addressed her troops.
“Howards, you stay with the prisoners. You two, on me,” she ordered.
Lucy grabbed the appointed soldier – Howards – and shoved his hand onto Adrian’s shoulder.
“This is Senator Jeffries. You will keep him alive. Reassure him that you will help him find Dan. Do you understand me?” she said, emphatically.
“Lucy, come on!” cried Lopez, setting off at a hurry.
With a pang of deepest guilt, she tore herself away from Adrian. She hurried after Lopez and the other soldiers. Cries of anguish got louder as they approached the adjoining wing.
They lined up by the doorway, and peered into the interior courtyard. Cells lined all four walls of the enclosure. The complex was four levels high. Each level had a balcony corridor overlooking the central space.
Lucy and the others moved in. They weaved between the steel benches that had been welded to the floor, as they scouted for signs of the Faithful. Lucy’s eyes fell on the ceiling. The metal security panels were a patchwork of burn marks and torn metal, exposing dark cavities high above.
Cries rang out from the second level, where a gate slammed shut. Two figures in yellow hazmat suits stepped into the corridor clutching blades glistening in red.
“Stay right there!” cried the sergeant, training her rifle on the pair.
The missionaries darted for the adjacent cells, but the soldiers were too quick. A hail of precision shots cut the murderers down as they ran.
From the opposite row, another missionary stumbled out of a cell, patting his chest frantically. As he desperately wrestled the unseen foe, he backed into the balcony rail. He tipped over the edge, landing hard on the concrete courtyard. His falling cry was silenced upon impact. The man’s neck was broken. The rat he’d been wrestling wriggled free from his hand and chewed through the outer layer of his suit. The missionary’s fingers and toes twitched as the creature disappeared beneath the folds and burrowed inside him.
The sound of feet scarpering across metal filled the air. A cacophonous squeaking followed.
“Up there!” cried a soldier, pointing to the patchwork ceiling.
A torrent of rats poured out of the cavity and down the walls. Some peeled off to gorge on the fallen missionaries. The majority swarmed towards Lucy’s group. The soldiers opened fire, but barely made a dent in the pack’s numbers. The rats gushed out faster than the soldiers could aim.
“Fall back!” cried the sergeant.
It was too late. The rats were streaming down the rear wall, blocking off their escape.
“Get behind us!” cried Lucy, trying to shelter the soldiers behind her outstretched arms, as if it would make some impact against the hundreds of creatures scurrying towards them.
As the rats poured down three of the walls, racing closer to the ground, Lucy’s group found themselves backing towards an open cell. Their footsteps became wet as they entered. They backed up against the mutilated bodies of clear-skinned infecteds.
The sergeant frantically used her boot to smear the spilled blood across the entrance to the cell.
“It won’t work – they can climb walls,” said Lopez, gripping his pistol tightly.
Lucy snatched the empty water dispenser from the cell wall, and knelt beside a dead prisoner. He was slumped against a bunk, with deep lacerations to his neck. She tilted his body downward. Warm blood gushed into the vessel, spilling onto her hands and sleeves in the process.
“What the hell are you doing?” cried the sergeant, aghast.
“Drink it. It’s your only chance,” said Lucy, holding out the vessel.
The screeching rats teemed closer by the second, as the first wave poured down the opposing walls. They swept across the courtyard, making a beeline for the humans.
The soldier beside the sergeant snatched the beaker from Lucy’s hand. He gulped a mouthful down before coughing and retching with disgust. The sergeant grabbed the vessel from him, and copied, before holding it out for the remaining soldier. The last soldier shook his head, terrified. The screeching din drew closer.
Lopez stepped out from the cell and walked calmly towards the oncoming wave of rodents.
“What’s he doing?” cried the unprotected soldier.
The rats parted around him like waves around a rock. Lopez turned to face the others. He rubbed a sleeve hard against his face and smeared off the concealer, revealing his mottled purple skin. Lucy followed in his footsteps, and the newly infected soldiers dashed after her, clutching the hem of her uniform anxiously.
“Don’t leave me!” cried the remaining soldier.
A curtain of rats swept across the ceiling threshold. He desperately threw at them, then unloaded his assault rifle into the pack with a cry.
Bullets sprayed across the cell erratically. The scurrying creatures leaped from the walls and ceiling onto the unprotected soldier, rapidly overwhelming him. His body fell to the ground and writhed as the creatures burrowed inside him. Within seconds, his flesh was saturated. The remaining rats scattered through the balconies, and into other levels of the building.
Gunshots rang out from the forecourt. Lucy darted to the window. A dark-skinned figure in a yellow hazmat suit was running towards a military truck. Splatters of infected blood clung to the outside of his suit, warding the butterflies away.
“We have to stop him!” cried Lucy, rushing from the room. The others followed close behind, as she blasted her way through an escape.
“We’re immune!” said Lucy, charging into the parking lot.
The Preacher sped towards the exit. Lucy fired after him, but her bullets had no impact against the armored vehicle.
The surrounding trucks were full of dazed infecteds, chaperoned by their more lucid comrades who waited anxiously for the drivers to return. Around them, hundreds more traversed the forecourt, spilling out of the surrounding wards. Some of the clear-skinned survivors were attempting to flee on foot, taking their chances on the streets beyond. Others were wandering the lot feverishly, or had collapsed with fatigue.
Lopez quickly assured the infecteds they were on the same side, and that the other soldiers had become infected too. Lucy’s eyes fell upon a Faithful missionary who lay on the tar before her. He was clutching his leg and writhing in pain. Across from him stood a clear-skinned infected, clutching a rifle scavenged from a dead soldier.
Lucy loomed over the injured missionary.
“Where’s he going?” cried Lucy, stamping on his bleeding leg.
The man howled in agony.
“Our Lady will punish you for your sins. We will rid the Earth of your plague,” grunted the man.
Lucy pressed against his leg harder. Blood oozed from the wound.
“I said where is he going?” repeated Lucy, through gritted teeth.
“The hospital!” groaned the man, feebly trying to push her boot away.
Lucy looked at Lopez with dread. They both knew what it meant.
A rumble signaled the arrival of more trucks. The soldiers raised their rifles.
“Crap, our backup’s coming. What the hell are we gonna do? We’re infecteds now!” said the sergeant, pivoting wildly in despair.
“You’re infected but alive. You can lay down and end up like these people, or you can stand up and fight for your rights,” said Lucy.
The trucks ploughed through the prison gateway and into the lot. Lucy’s heart leaped as she saw the driver.
“Fliss!” cried Lopez, triumphantly. “Sergeant, get these trucks loaded. The drivers know where to go.”
Lucy chucked the sergeant the key to her truck, then followed Lopez as he hurried towards the remaining Hummer.
“Where are you going?” cried the sergeant.
“To the hospital,” growled Lopez.
TEN
Father
____________________________
Lopez leaned hard into the wheel as they screeched around the corner. The Preacher’s truck was nowhere to be seen. He swerved again, narrowly avoiding the wreckage of a bus which had overturned across the intersection. A handful of passengers had crawled from the wreckage, only to fall victim to the butterflies or –
“Beasts!” cried Lucy, pointing ahead.
Three of the wolf-sized creatures were tearing down the boulevard. They rapidly closed in on some humans who were fleeing a nearby building. A sea of white armbands bobbed in all directions as the protestors scattered, trying to outpace the advancing predators.
A soldier in a yellow-striped blood jacket held firm, gunning the creatures down from the turret on his patrol vehicle, which raced to intercept the beasts. The vehicle jolted. A green splatter filled the inside of the cockpit. The windows smoldered as the acid burned through from the inside out. The truck mounted the sidewalk and careered into an old fire hydrant, knocking the soldier from his turret. He scrambled backwards, drawing his pistol. He tried to fire at the remaining beasts as they bounded past, but he looked agonized – like his collarbone was shattered, making the gun’s recoil unbearable.
Lucy checked her feet nervously as Lopez sped past the wreckage. There were no signs of the explosive reptiles in their truck.
The city was in a state of chaos. A mass of protestors wearing white armbands had stormed key government buildings. Cloth masks covered the bottom halves of their faces. The invaders hurled Molotov cocktails from the windows. They exploded on the street below, setting fire to government vehicles. Soldiers with riot shields prepared to storm a building as Lucy’s Hummer raced past.
“Hold on!” cried Lopez.
He swerved sharply as protestors spilled out of a second building. Smoke was pouring from the upper windows. Surveillance drones buzzed overhead, guiding the army’s reinforcements.
Packs of armored vehicles sped in all directions, trying to respond to the violence erupting in every block. They were stretched to breaking point by the scores of creatures pouring into the streets, emerging from the Metro stations, bursting out of abandoned buildings.
Lucy’s Hummer skidded onto the hospital concourse. Each diversion had cost them precious minutes in their pursuit. The glass entrance was shattered. The Preacher’s stolen Hummer had rammed through the wall and skidded to a halt in the lobby. Beneath the vehicle was the crushed body of the lobby security guard.
The driver’s door was open.
Lucy sprinted towards the elevator. She pummeled the button with frustration, then made for the staircase beside it.
“Save your energy,” said Lopez, grabbing her arm.
“Where the hell is Karys? She’s supposed to be here,” cried Lucy, casting her eyes across the deserted atrium.
The elevator doors slid open, and they hurried inside. Lucy reached for the control panel. A blood smear covered the Level Three button. Lucy’s powder lab.
The elevator pulled upwards. After a few moments the doors slid apart. The ward was deserted. Halfway down the corridor, a streak of blood covered the vinyl floor. Lucy and Lopez followed the trail silently, with their pistols drawn.
The blood stopped by a doorway. The sound of glass shattering echoed from the room beyond. A series of crashes followed. Lopez nodded and Lucy swung the door open. The pair burst in.
The room was an unmarked medical supply closet. Harvey lay on the floor, scrambling among the fallen packages. He was clutching his stomach, where blood was seeping from a substantial wound. A syringe stuck out from his leg. His thumb covered the plunger, which was fully depressed.
“No more,” he gasped, rolling onto his back.
Lucy’s mouth fell open as she saw the director’s face. Where his right eye had once been, there was only a bloody socket. Blood streamed down his cheek and onto his lab coat. His breathing steadied as the morphine kicked in. His left wrist was handcuffed to the tip of two heavy oxygen canisters.
Lucy grabbed a dressing from the fallen boxes around her and pressed it to Harvey’s stomach. She shoved his free hand upon it firmly.
“Lucy?” he panted.
“Which way did he go?” she said, stepping back.
“Major Lopez – is that you?” said Harvey, looking past Lucy. “I’m so glad. When you vanished, I feared the worst for you.”
“Hey, stay with me. The guy who attacked you, where did he go?” said Lucy, slapping Harvey’s cheeks.
He refocused on her.
“I never really had a name for it. You might call it the neonatal ward, I suppose,” said Harvey, faintly.
“Where the hell is it?” said Lopez, grabbing him by the hair and tilting his head back sharply.
Harvey gestured sideways, through the wall.
“You’ll need my ID to get in,” he said, softly.
“So give it to us,” snarled Lopez.
“Would that I could, Major. Alas, it’s biometric ID. So I am unable to ‘give’ it. However, I will not stop you from taking it,” said Harvey.
“What are you talking about?” said Lucy.
“He wants us to take his other eye,” said Lopez.
“For the record, it’s not something I desire. It is simply the only option I have left, to prevent that man from destroying my finest work. I trust you two will do more for the ward’s occupants than he will,” said Harvey, fumbling in the box beside him.
He pulled out another vial of morphine and unscrewed the cap. Shakily, he clamped it between his thighs, plucked the syringe fr
om his leg and prepared a second dose.
“OK, I think I’m ready,” he said, injecting the solution into his thigh once again.
“Are you sure about this?” said Lucy.
“I doubt you can free me without igniting these canisters, and I believe time is of the essence. This is your best chance of stopping him. I’ll soon be dead either way,” said Harvey, casting the used syringe aside.
Lucy looked at the implements around them. Plenty of scooping tools.
“I can’t,” she said, stepping back.
Lopez gave her a grim look, and she stepped outside. Through the door, she could hear Harvey grunting and gasping. Within a few seconds, Lopez stepped outside too, swiftly sealing the door behind him. In his hand, he clutched the director’s eyeball.
“Let’s go,” he said, pressing ahead down the corridor.
Only now did Lucy spot the faint trail of red droplets leading to the ward beyond. She ran ahead and scouted for danger, peering out onto the new lobby. It was the part of the level she’d been unable to access during her powder work. The space was small. No reception desk. Just a thick security door, and a scanner beside it.
Lopez held Harvey’s eye to the scanner.
The device flickered, then turned red.
Lopez cursed. He wiped the blood from the front of the eyeball, then tried again.
The device blinked green, and the door clicked open.
They hurried inside the ward, and followed the trail of red droplets to the far end of the corridor, past a second scanner, to a doorway. There, the trail ended.
Lucy peered through the glass. Her heart raced. He was in there, with his back to them. She signaled to Lopez. He pressed the handle and she sprung into the room, with him close on her tail.
“Freeze!” Lucy cried, training her gun at the Preacher.
A pungent smell grabbed her nostrils. As the lab door clicked shut behind them, she became aware of the faint hissing sound emanating from the gas taps dotted across the room.
Amidst the hissing taps stretched rows of incubators, crammed onto worktops wherever space could be found between the lab’s regular equipment.
Convulsive Box Set Page 80