Everything Dies | Season 3

by Malpass, T. W.

  The controlled thud on the doors to the lab was relentless. With each impact, the cracking around the hinges grew more pronounced.

  Foster and Ethan huddled together behind one of the desks, waiting for the inevitable popping sound of the door being broken in. The intruders would only need to force the metal shelving aside then.

  ‘We have to do something. Wait for them to get inside and make a run for the entrance,’ Foster whispered.

  ‘That won’t help us. We’ll just run into more around the compound. I can feel them,’ Ethan said.

  ‘Oh shit!’ Foster said. ‘How could I have been so stupid?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘My gun. It’s locked in the drawer of my other desk. I’m going for it.’

  ‘Wait!’ Ethan tried to grab the sleeve of her lab coat, but he reacted too late.

  She got to her feet and carefully made her way across the room in the dark.

  She only managed to get halfway to the other desk when the large splintering sounds and the growl of the shelving being forced away from the door indicated the lab had been breached.

  Foster dropped to her hands and knees to avoid detection. Ethan considered going after her but chose to remain in his hiding spot. He had another idea.

  She began to crawl the rest of the way, making sure her hands didn’t slap on the floor.

  A single intruder walked into the main area of the lab, dusting the splinters of wood from the shoulders of his jacket. He moved into the centre of the room and turned his head, scanning almost robotically for signs of life. He didn’t notice the passive undead woman tucked away in the corner.

  Foster had managed to reach the outer side of the desk unit and quickly slid around to the inside where the drawers were situated. Fortunately, the key to the drawer containing her gun was still poking from the small lock at the front. She reached up and tried to twist it.

  The click of the lock drawing back sounded crisply in the silence of the lab, and the intruder heard it, although he wasn’t exactly sure where it came from.

  Ethan, who peered out from his hiding place, saw the man turn towards the desk to investigate it. He ducked in, pushed his back against the hardwood, and closed his eyes. He focussed on emptying his mind so he could bridge another connection with the specimen.

  It heard his call and stirred from its motionless stance, taking one step from the shadows.

  Foster could sense the man getting closer and pulled on the handle of the drawer to open it just enough to reach inside. As she did, the hooded figure caught sight of the white arm of her lab coat. He hurdled the top of the desk and grabbed hold of it.

  She screamed as his grip tightened around her forearm, just managing to brush the handle of the gun with her fingertips.

  The man yanked her arm upwards and out of the drawer, and the gun came with it. He fell from the surface of the desk, landing on top of her. Straddling Foster around her hips, he held her down with the weight of his body as they both grappled for control of the weapon.

  Behind the other desk, sweat dripped from Ethan’s hairline and down his face as he strained under the intense focus of his psychic link with the specimen.

  The man squeezed Foster’s wrists and pressed them into the floor behind her head. Her finger caught the trigger and a single shot rang out, the bullet embedding itself in the south wall.

  He lifted both of her arms and slammed them down again. On the third slam, the pain caused her to release the gun. The man let go of her, allowing her to sit up, but before she could act, he smacked her across the jaw with a closed fist, knocking her unconscious.

  He paused to breathe hard after the struggle. As he collected himself, the creature was almost upon him, shuffling its rotten feet closer and closer to where he knelt over the beaten doctor.

  The intruder pulled on the zip of his jacket, opening the neck so he could remove his hood and get some air. The man was completely bald, but not from alopecia. His head had been shaved close to the scalp. His skin shone porcelain white, highlighting the intersection of blue veins running through his face. He fixed his strangely discoloured eyes on Foster and smiled in satisfaction.

  The sweat on his forehead glistened over a tattoo inked just above the bridge of his nose. The symbol formed a partially closed hand, its knuckles pointing towards the ground, with four small faces peering over the ends of each finger.

  The intruder sensed the presence upon him and stood up, turning to face the oncoming specimen. His damaged smile didn’t fade at first. He welcomed the undead woman with a calm demeanour out of place with the danger it posed. It was only when it opened its putrid mouth and snarled at him that he altered his behaviour, reaching out to hold the creature at bay.

  He seemed shocked by its actions, but not surprised enough to allow it to bite him. He removed his knife from the sheath on his belt and jammed it into the creature’s left eye socket.

  As soon as its brain stem was severed and the torturous excuse of a life left its body, Ethan experienced what could only be described as a cerebral surge of energy brought about by the violent disconnection of their minds.

  His body hit the ground at the same time as the creature’s. He clutched his head. His brain felt like it was ablaze, and he began to convulse.

  The noise alerted the intruder to his location. The man stepped over the specimen he’d destroyed and walked over to him. He watched with caution as Ethan writhed about on the floor, his fingers clawing at his scalp like he was trying to push through into his own skull to release the pressure from inside.

  As the intruder continued to observe and wiped the blood from his blade, a second man appeared by his side. He removed his hood to reveal another bald head that sported the same tattooed symbol.

  ‘This must be The Shepherd,’ the first man said, the dual undertones of his voice unmistakable.

  ‘How can you be certain?’ the second man replied, gazing curiously at Ethan and his agonised state.

  ‘I witnessed his power. One of the cursed tried to attack me.’

  ‘It hungered for you?’ the second man asked, frowning.

  ‘I think not.’

  ‘The rest are either dead or captured.’

  ‘Is the black woman still alive?’

  ‘Yes.’

  The first man nodded. ‘Then we have everything we came for. We should gather the others.’

  The two men waited until Ethan’s spasms had subsided and he slipped into an exhausted sleep.

  Episode Four

  The Children

  1

  Raine experienced a type of waking—if you could call it that. A form of limbo between states, hearing fragments of sounds but seeing no images. Nothing but blackness. The period of time under her blanket of semi-consciousness felt unquantifiable. It could have been hours, even days for all she knew.

  The first taste she experienced was the metallic tang of blood in her mouth. Then the rocking back and forth of the vehicle as it navigated the broken track of land.

  When she finally opened her eyes, the sunlight seemed like it burned with the intensity of a dying star. It flooded the truck’s interior and masked the faces of the other passengers sitting beside her.

  She couldn’t see the features of the person next to her through the haze and her blurred vision, but she could tell they were staring directly at her.

  ‘Who are you?’ she croaked. It was all she could manage. Just the effort it took to get those three words out forced her back into an uncomfortable sleep.

  Before she drifted away again, she caught the response to her question.

  ‘He is The Father, we are The Children,’ the voice said.

  2

  Once the gunfire and screaming stopped, Anna left her room in the sleeping quarters, dodged the corpses in the main hallway, and wandered the inside of the compound in search of familiar scents.

  The corridors were silent, and she could smell the blood and gunshot
residue in the air. Although she picked up a trace of her companions, she knew they were no longer present.

  After performing two laps of the building, the dog cut through the corridor in G section, passing by the workshop and kennels so she could exit the compound through the tractor garage.

  The early morning chill barely registered against Anna’s thick coat. Her first instinct was to head towards Crawford’s cabin, but she smelled ash and saw the smoke from the scorched wreckage up on the ridge.

  She ran to the top and nosed her way through the debris for signs of life. She found nothing but partially melted metal and Salty’s overturned snowmobile.

  Dejected, Anna plodded to the edge of the overhang and peered down to the deep snow at the bottom. She couldn’t see the bodies, but she could see the outlines where they had broken through the surface of the drift.

  Anna raised her head to take in a huge sniff, detecting something that excited her enough to race around the left side of the ridge to find a way down.

  She immediately began to dig once she reached the shapes in the snow, burrowing like a creature possessed. She didn’t have to dig too deep before her paws made contact with a body.

  It was Crawford. Patches of snow around her were tinted pink from the diluted blood leaking from the three bullet wounds in her torso. Her eyes were open, staring up at the clear morning sky, her mouth packed full of fresh powder.

  Anna pushed her snout under one of Crawford’s hands, elevating it from the snow and allowing it to slide off the end of her nose again. Her limp arm settled and lay still.

  Anna thought about trying the same trick a second time, but instead she whimpered and continued digging right next to where Crawford had died.

  She found Salty in no time. Unlike Crawford, his eyes were closed. She touched his forehead with her nose. His skin was ice cold.

  Blood stained the gunshot wound in his shoulder, and a large bruise had started to form on the left side of his temple.

  The dog lapped at his face to try to rouse him. Her wet kiss did generate a groan and a shudder, but he didn’t wake. She tried a more forceful method, jumping up and down on his chest using her front paws, almost as if she was attempting to resuscitate him.

  Still he didn’t regain consciousness.

  With her tail tucked between her back legs, Anna let out a high-pitched yap and proceeded to bark a few inches from his face. In desperation, she clamped her teeth around the neck of his jacket and tried to drag him from the hole and along the snow towards the shelter of the overhanging ledge.

  She strained every sinew of her powerful body to pull him clear of the drift and onto the more hardened ground, but he proved too much of a dead weight to haul all the way.

  She released him from her jaws, moved around to face him again, and recommenced her agitated barking. This time, her desperate calls were successful.

  Salty opened his eyes and started to cough and splutter. The pain surging through his frozen body caused him to scream out as he was unceremoniously returned to the land of the living.

  He flexed his arms like a badly oiled robot in order to cross them over his chest, unable to curl his fingers enough to form fists.

  Anna reacted to his semi-revival by launching herself into him, licking his face and the wool of his hat.

  ‘G-Good g-girl. Good girl,’ he stuttered. Her hot breath and saliva warmed his face and helped bring it back to life.

  As he attempted to sit up, he felt the keen sting of the bullet that had buried itself into the flesh of his shoulder, and he shouted out. His anguished cries soon echoed back from the surrounding landscape. He reached across and applied some pressure to the wound, immediately recoiling in pain.

  He lay back down again in order to gather himself. When he looked up, he noticed the overhang above him and remembered the explosion, being surrounded at the top of the ridge, and toppling from the edge.

  Now that he knew where he was, he realised how far away he was from the compound and what it would take to get back there in his current condition.

  Because his whole body felt so numbed by the cold, he couldn’t be certain that he hadn’t been shot anywhere else or if he’d broken any bones from the fall. The only way to be sure was to get to his feet and try to walk.

  Once he’d taken a few more breaths, he sat up again and rubbed his legs as furiously as his stiff arms would allow. He also used Anna’s body heat as she excitedly brushed against him.

  Eventually he managed to get his legs moving and used the dog as a crutch to push himself into a standing position. The first thing he saw was the body of his comrade, spreadeagled like a child attempting angel wings in the snow, a pink circle of blood surrounding her.

  He bent his back so he could rest on his haunches. He wanted to go to her, even if just to pay his respects, but he already knew she was gone. Conserving every morsel of energy he could would be the only chance he had of making it back up the ridge.

  When Salty turned to face the winding and slippery path running up the side of the ridge, his heart sank. He’d never viewed it from the bottom before, and it looked even more ominous. In addition, he was starting to feel confused about which direction he needed to walk to reach the path, and his muscles were tightening and cramping up. He was aware these were all symptoms of hyperthermia and that time was of the essence.

  Anna remained by his side the whole way up the path to the top, allowing him to place a hand on her back to steady himself. At times, he grabbed a handful of fur and let her pull him along. There were a couple of slips and stumbles, but he finally made it to the charred remains of the helicopter.

  Although relieved to have made it as far as he had, the compound looked a long way off, and his vision had deteriorated further, as if he were peering through frosted glass.

  Anna ran on ahead, and it was then that he noticed the overturned snowmobile still where he’d abandoned it. She stopped short of the sled and plunged her head into the snow, coming back up with Salty’s rifle in her mouth.

  Salty forced a smile and gained the incentive to stagger to where she stood wagging her tail. He took the rifle from her and winced as he threw the strap over his shoulder.

  On reaching the snowmobile, he used the unwounded side of his body to push it upright again. He paused and mouthed a silent prayer before turning the key in the ignition.

  Fortunately, the engine spluttered to life on the first attempt.

  ‘Come on, girl. Let’s go see what the damage is,’ he said.

  Anna jumped on the back, and Salty twisted the throttle and turned the sled in the direction of their camp.

  When he pulled up inside the tractor garage, the pain of his gunshot wound had grown more acute and was spreading over to his neck and partway down his arm.

  With Anna leading the way, he barged his way into the interior corridor. The melting snow on his boots and his unsteady steps caused him to slide on the floor, having to use the walls on both sides to keep himself from falling.

  He wanted to start searching the compound for survivors, but he knew treating his injury and bringing up his body temperature needed to take priority.

  Salty stopped to rest, leaning against the front of the station manager’s office. Two-thirds of the way along the main hallway, he saw the body lying in a pool of blood. He pushed himself away from the wall and stumbled a few more feet closer to discover that the corpse was one of the intruders.

  As the body was opposite the infirmary, he kept his eyes on it until he got to the door. There was no need to get down to check if the intruder was still breathing. No one could be after losing so much blood.

  Inside the infirmary, he fell into the medicine cabinet, almost plunging his hand through the glass in the process.

  He grabbed a bottle of the strongest painkillers he could find, snapping his neck back to gulp two pills down without water. His hands shaking, he frantically scanned each shelf for hydrogen peroxide and dressing ga
uze, throwing them onto the adjustable bed in the middle of the room. Several other bottles fell from the cabinet in the process and rolled around the floor where Anna sat and watched intently.

  Salty opened the drawer where the medical implements were stored, retrieving a scalpel and a large pair of forceps. He tore them from their packets with his teeth and dropped them on the stainless steel table next to the bed.

  Finally, he found two blankets in one of the bottom drawers and tossed them at the foot of the stiff mattress.

  Panting and groaning, he sat on the bed with all the things he’d collected around him and attempted to prepare himself for what he had to do.

  It suddenly occurred to him that he was missing something. He needed to be able to see his shoulder in order to dig the bullet out. Over on the work desk behind him, he noticed a circular magnifying mirror on the end of a flexible gooseneck cable.

  Salty forced himself back up to stumble across the room to fetch it. He slammed it down onto the table by the bed and then lay back so he could line up the reflection of his wound in the glass.

  After he’d sat up a second time to adjust its position, he stripped off his shirt and tossed it on the ground. He yanked the two blankets to his chest to keep himself warm and subdue his shivering.

  Keeping his hand as steady as possible, he picked up the scalpel and brought it over to his injured shoulder. He closed his eyes for a second to brace himself and then focussed on his reflection, putting blade to skin.

  Through gritted teeth, Salty sliced an X shape over the wound to open it up farther. Fresh lines of blood streamed down his arm and splashed onto the floor below the bed.

  Anna raised her brow at the red fluid as it started to pool.

  Salty threw the bloodied scalpel back onto the table and fumbled for the bottle of hydrogen peroxide. He unscrewed the top and lifted it above his shoulder to pour the chemical so it ran down and found its way inside the wound.

  The severe sting generated a groan, and he angrily slammed the bottle on the table again. He knew the bullet wasn’t buried too deep, but actually removing it on his own without anaesthetic would be another prospect entirely.