by Maxey, Phil
She moved to the wagon as Landon put his hand on her arm. “I have to try,” she said and he let go.
She climbed up on the back and moved through the fabric opening. The interior was a chaos of items, some modern, others old, no doubt taken as Isiah traveled. The man himself was lying on a narrow bed, his jacket now open, revealing the extent of his injuries. Gregg was right, he wasn’t long for this world.
He sipped from a bottle of brown liquid, his hand then falling heavily to his side. His other holding a large silver revolver. “You need… fix me.”
Now it was her turn to scoff. “Why the fuck should I do that? Just give me the vaccine!”
“You’re a doctor—”
“Microbiologist.”
“Same… shit. You know medical… stuff. Keep me… alive and you get what you… want.”
“I’m not a doctor! You need a surgeon, and even then…”
He sneered, his teeth red with blood. “Look under those sheets.” He looked towards a bundle of fabric in the corner.
Jess pulled them away, revealing a blue metal box with a keypad on its top.
He started to laugh, but it turned into a blood splattering cough. “Yeah… you know what that is, where your precious bottles are. If I die, you ain’t getting the combination, and you and your little rats soon join me.”
She swore under her breath, then flicked her head back to the man she hated. “And what if you die while I try to fix you?”
“Guess… you better not let that happen…” His eyes closed and flicked back open again.
She swore again, but this time moved to the back of the wagon and looked out at the hundred or so people looking back at her. “If there’s anyone here with any medical training. I’m going to need you in here.” She looked down at her husband, just a few feet away and nodded.
A woman and a younger man moved through the crowd.
“My husband was a nurse,” said the woman.
“Um… I’m in… was in my first year of being a paramedic,” said the man.
“Get up here.”
Jess turned back to the patient, whose eyes were closed. She ran forward and shook him awake. He groaned in response. “Stay conscious!” She picked up the bottle which had fallen to the floor and put it to his chapped lips. “Drink!” From outside came noise but she was more focused on getting the liquid down the throat of the man in front of her. She pulled his bottom jaw lower and poured the whiskey into his mouth, expecting him to cough or choke, but instead there was no response. “No…” She placed her hand in front of his nose then his neck. “No… no, you can’t die!” The noise outside was getting louder, but she instantly started chest compressions, while glancing to the flap which doubled as an exit to Isiah’s mobile home. “Where are you?!” she shouted, wondering where her help was. Despite the action making her stomach contents want to leave her, she started to blow air into his lungs, then switched back to pushing down on his chest. “What’s the combination! What’s the…”
She lifted her blood-soaked hands and looked to the back of the wagon.
Where… that’s… gunfire… not again…
Standing, she walked and peered out into the night. Streaks fanned outwards into the dark from the wagons. She strained to see their targets then spotted the movement on the tree line at the back of a small field to her right, and the same beyond the four lanes of the highway to the left.
“Shit…”
Figures were running towards her, one of which kept on going to the front of the wagon, climbing up.
Arlo held his lantern aloft. “Jess!” he shouted, trying to be heard over the gunfire and the incessant roar which was growing louder. “Landon told me to tell you, the things have—”
“Yeah, I can see!”
“Is he?” said Gregg.
She nodded.
“He’s dead?” said Arlo. “You mean we…” His movement froze, his attention looking beyond her and the wagon.
She couldn’t see what he had further down the highway, but from his reaction she could tell it wasn’t anything good. She balanced on the edge of the back and pivoted around so she could see along the edge of the bonnet. Fifty yards away the darkness was alive with jostling and crawling. She scanned across the landscape, her mouth falling open as her enhanced vision revealed what was about to come crashing down upon them. “They’re…”
“Circle the wagons!” shouted Gregg, turning and walking away, repeating the order to the drivers behind, while indicating to the flatter ground to their right.
Her wagon jolted forward, making her almost lose her grip. She leaned forward. “Climb up!” Her hand clenched Arlo’s and with hardly any effort she pulled him up and into the back of the wagon which continued its journey across mud, faded grass then concrete, all the time turning, the others behind doing the same.
Arlo looked at the man strewn on the blood-soaked sheets, who held fear for him even in death.
“Where’s Landon?”
“Err… further back, on one of the other… wagons.”
As the chaos outside continued, she quickly pulled the blue gun box out and handed it to Arlo. “Do you know how to get into this?”
He looked down, shaking his head. “Er…”
“Do you!?”
“Yes… um no, I don’t know! Not—”
The wagon abruptly came to a halt. Jess looked out the back. They were positioned on the furthest lane. To her right, all the other wagons were curved around in a large circle, roughly a hundred and fifty feet across. People were jumping down with supplies, placing them on the highway’s cold ground.
“Er… Jess…”
She hadn’t noticed Arlo behind her, also peering outside, looking in the opposite direction. She followed his gaze and saw what had rendered him speechless. A herd of things, whose claws and fangs were only highlighted by the neon projectiles smashing into their owners, were mere seconds away. Cables from electricity pylons clanged above the highway, a distant reminder of a world that used to be, and as she faced what appeared to be destiny, her mind still tried to think of a way to survive. Her wagon jolted again, as the horses were unshackled, immediately panicking and with a push galloping away through the few gaps that remained in the wall of fury just tens of feet away. The same was being repeated across the barrier of old wagons, being moved even closer together, while those with guns fired into the darkness at anything they could.
“Jess!” shouted Landon running past those huddling together in the center of the shrinking area. He handed her a rifle, while climbing up on the wagon, glancing at Arlo. “Sorry, there’s no more.”
“It’s… it’s…”
Jess tore a small hole in the fabric, a window on what was rushing towards them, then remembered something, glancing behind. “Look under his bed, there should be a revolver there!” Arlo did, quickly finding it and peered out the back, immediately shooting. As she returned her view to the flimsy fabric wall, she caught a view of Landon firing his rifle, awkwardly reloading with his good arm and firing again.
My husband…
She turned and started firing as images of Sam and Josh filled her mind, and oddly she felt not fear, but contentment that they were still out there, still alive.
Meg will—
Something slammed into the side of the wagon, knocking her backwards. She scrambled to raise her weapon, but something heavy and sharp with a multitude of boney appendages sliced through the bonnet, filling the air with splinters of wood, plastic and metal, Isiah’s former belonging’s burying her. Her world had become groans, screams and screeches as the wagon completely tilted over, falling on its side and throwing her out, onto the cold hard ground.
“Land—”
Something moist but solid knocked into her, removing the air from her lungs and she flew backwards again, only stopping when she hit up against the wheel of another wagon, which she instantly realized was not connected to anything else. The smell of smoke and fire had joined the stench of t
he things, as she tried to make sense of the chaos of movement. Flashes accompanied humanoid shapes running then falling as other, larger, angrier things rained down on them and other blood-curdling screams were added to the cacophony.
I’m already dead… this is h—
The constant fury of noise she was encased within, masked the woosh sound, but the burning which erupted from her shoulder confirmed its source and she dropped in agony.
As shadows flitted left and right, barely noticeable within her pain, she felt a tornado of wind rushing over her, as if the virus has affected the heavens as well, bringing with the creatures a storm to end all life.
There were more neon streaks now, kris-crossing her view of the sky as she lay, and other darker, more rectangular objects filling up the space above.
She forced her mind to settle upon the last meal she shared with her family, in the apartment, moments before everything changed, and she smiled. The rest of her was numb, the pain too overwhelming and as she slipped into unconsciousness she had no feeling of the gloved hands, dragging her across the wet concrete.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
8:31 p.m.
Jess looked at the couple across the way from her kitchen window. Pained expressions flowed between waving of arms.
Always arguing…
Donnie barked from behind.
“Stop playing with the dog. I’m about to…” Her head hurt. “I’m about to put dinner out… it’s… your birthday.”
“Yes, ma!”
Jess turned around to her family seated at the dining table. Landon was dressed in his uniform, the one he walked the streets in for years before becoming a detective, and Sam and Josh were dressed equally as smart, but from a different era.
She looked back to the apartment across the street. The man and woman were looking at her, bathed in a red light.
They know…
She was tired. Work had been especially hard recently. She picked up the bowl of hamburgers and took them to the table, then pulled the lid off. A brown bubbling putrid liquid looked up at her.
“Hmm, looks delicious!” said Sam, then started to spoon it into her bowl.
“No… no… that’s…. this is not right… I bought…” She watched Josh pick the bowl up and drink the lumpy substance down eagerly. “No, wait. Don’t drink—” Her hand was wrong. In fact, what was at the end of her arm was not a hand at all, but something else, something that coiled and slithered, snake-like. But she didn’t react because she knew she wasn’t human anymore.
“You’re better now,” said Landon, with a wide grin.
“You’re one of us,” said Josh.
Jess started to scream for her son’s face had been replaced with a multitude of festering layers of skin, which slowly started to fall into his bowl…
She opened her eyes to…
Red…
Somewhere distant a siren wailed while pain throbbed in her shoulder. She looked down at the heavy bandage, then around the small red, windowless room. She was lying on a gurney in a gown. A heart monitoring machine beeped softly to her left, while to the right was a bedside table and a…
The door was ajar. Beyond was a flickering light which highlighted a corridor. The siren came from the same direction.
Where… am… I…
She pulled the sheet back revealing why she was having problems moving her legs. Metal manacles covered her ankles. She attempted lifting her feet again, only being able to get them a few inches off the bed before the chains jolted them back down. She sat forward instantly regretting the movement for the four walls became a circling, swirling blur making her fall back to the pillow. A putrid smell drifted across her and with it came memories of screams and fire.
The wagons… people… died… Landon… Where… am… I…
She sat up more slowly this time, throwing her hands out to support her body but her left arm cried out in pain and she almost fell to that side. She looked at the bandage again. There was a dark spot.
Bleeding…
She looked at the door. Why was it open? And why was this room lit by a red light…
“He…” The words came out as a whisper due to the lack of moisture in her throat. She cleared it and tried again. “Hello? Is there anyone out there?”
The siren continued in tune with the throbbing from her shoulder, but she could also pick up the faint sound of voices as well. Muffled, overlapping. Repeating.
“Hello!”
Some of the voices were louder, but still not enough for her to make out what was being said. She sighed then placed her hands on the chains, and pulled with as much strength as she could, but just as they started to creak a bolt of pain shot through her left arm making her yell out. Ignoring the tear running down her cheek, she started to try again but stopped.
Need leverage…
Her eyes quickly settled on the bars at the side of the bed, and she felt along the right one until reaching where it connected to the curved section. Her fingers gripped and rotated the cold metal pole.
“Yes… yes… come on…” It quickly turned, moving away from the other part and after a moment of fumbling came away in her hand. Not wasting any time she slid it through one of the metal chain links near the bottom, where it connected to the end of the gurney, then heaved it upwards, straining every workable muscle she had…
“Come—” The chains creaked. “— on…”
She lunged forward almost falling off the end of the bed as the clasp which held the chain to it, popped off. She rebalanced and let out a breath, then bringing the chain and manacles with her, swung her feet around to the floor, but remained sat for the motion of the room was starting to return.
Just breath, Jess… Bre…
Now she was sat up, she could see her clothes lying neatly near her feet at the side of the bed. She pulled her gown off, then grabbed her top, putting it on and replaced the gown over it. Her underwear and pants would have to wait until she could break the chain between the manacles.
She could hear one of the muffled voices, a woman, a little more clearly now. It was definitely repeating. Maybe an automated warning? Was she in some kind of hospital?
Standing, she walked awkwardly forward, shifting her weight from one foot to the next and looked through the few inches of gap to the corridor. Beyond the nearby gloom, about ten or so feet to her left the walls were soaked red in patches…
Blood…
She started to pull back when the woman’s voice repeated again.
“Containment and perimeter breach indicated. Lockdown initiated. Security protocol alpha now in effect. Containment and…” The recording continued on a loop.
She quickly moved back to the bed and sat, grabbing the pole and placed it through the chain links, and twisted, again and again until it pulled at the skin on her ankles, but she continued, ignoring the pain now surging through her arm and legs until with a final turn there was a snap and one of the links broke apart. She immediately grabbed the rest of her clothes and put them on, including her boots. Finally she walked back to the door, pole in hand.
She pulled it open slowly and peered out. To her right were only shadows, but left, about five feet away was a body. A man in fatigues sat with his back up against the wall, his legs out in front, his head slumped forward with his intestines in his lap. Three days ago, the scene would have emptied her stomach, instead she slipped out of the room and walked forward, picking up his MP5 submachine gun which was still in his hand.
She also checked his pulse, just in case but there was no movement beneath the skin.
Is this a military base? Did the army save us? But then… what happened here?
She bent back down, checking across the uniform for any sign of identification. Her fingers happened across a flat piece of silver with etchings across its surface. She had seen something similar being used at…
Biochron…
She looked at the walls and other doors further down the corridor.
Am I…
The idea she was at the Biochron headquarters, or rather beneath it was almost too much for her to accept. She shook her head in disbelief.
Am I back in Denver? Did Biochron rescue me?
She examined the small piece of metal, turning it over in her fingers. She had no idea how it would be used but a strange idea came to her and she bent down and waved it over the first of the manacles. It promptly fell from her ankle, making her try again with the other with the same result. She went to move away but stopped and looked back to the poor soul who came up against one of the things, and bent down, ignoring the gore and pulled the top layer of his body armor off and placed it over her top. She wasn’t sure it would do any good if she came across one of the creatures, but it was better than—
A muffled voice came from the nearby door, making her flinch and raise the gun at the same time.
“Hello?” she whispered towards the light gray entrance.
Words were emanating from it, but she was unable to make out what they were. Someone was clearly on the other side. She looked at the slither of silver in her hand and the small black box attached to the doorframe. Should she let them out? What if they were in there for a good reason?
I was in one of these cells…
She stopped hesitating and waved the card across the device. There was a clunk and a click, and the door sprang open a few inches. A hand appeared on it and Jess took a step back, raising her gun again.
The door opened all the way. “Hey, don’t shoot me!” said Arlene.
The brown-haired girl looked even scrawnier than before, with dark patches beneath her eyes. Jess still held the gun on her. “How… did you get here?”
Arlene peered out from her cell, looking along the corridor, seeing the dead soldier. “I guess the inmates are running the asylum.” She looked back to Jess. “They took me! Did stupid medical tests! Cos I’m immune!” She nodded towards the other doors. “These rooms are probably full of people like me!”
“What—”
A knocking came from the door to the right. They both stood silent, listening to the scuffling. Jess walked towards it. “We need to rescue as many as we can.” She waved the card across the device, making the door flick open. “Hello? Are you…”