Jack offered his idea once more, and with no Eats to be had, the horde dispersed. Most wandered around corners or got stuck in the shadows, and not a single one remained in the immediate vicinity.
Jack, on the other hand, found a nook where he could keep an eye on the door. Though he wanted to find his smell, hunger pained him as well. And he knew the meal would come out soon enough. They always had before.
* * *
“Absolutely fascinating,” Dr. Forbes said, staring at the tiny computer screen. “Gaston, come here for a moment,” he called out. “I think I’ve got something.”
Gaston squeezed between the other occupants of their tiny fort, trying to suck in his gut as much as possible. It was a feat that would have been much easier had he not been such a good cook, or at least a frequent one. “What is it?” he asked.
Dr. Forbes pointed to a staggering, pixilated form on the screen. “I do believe that this one is our control specimen.”
“How can you be certain, docteur? It is too dark to tell.”
Dr. Forbes nodded. “I’m pretty sure. I tracked his transponder chip to a mob that formed. But when they scattered, it was hard to pick him out as they wandered off. Regardless, it looks like he’s headed for the pen we pulled out of him.”
“Perhaps your data is a coincidence, yes?”
Dr. Forbes pointed down to a hastily sketched floor plan he had drawn on a napkin. “Keep in mind that we’d have to crunch numbers and do some testing for any scientific basis,” he said, “but if you look at this rough plot I’ve made, you can see that it looks like he’s been systematically closing in on the pen.”
“Maybe,” Gaston replied, examining the map. “But I’m sure everyone else would agree that we need to say au revoir and get out.”
“I know. But it keeps me occupied until we get the UCK project data,” Dr. Forbes said. “I’m not leaving without it.”
Gaston leaned over and tapped the top of the monitor. “Check the room. Maybe we’ll have some luck, yes?”
The doctor’s fingers danced on the keyboard for a few seconds. When they stopped, the camera display changed from watching Jack hide at the end of a hall to watching a large room filled with expensive machinery, currently unoccupied and undisturbed.
“See, the containment device is still there,” Gaston said, pointing to the small object in the room’s center. “Your intern should have arrived by now, no?”
Dr. Forbes blew out a deep breath and knew his colleague was probably right. The run to the lab should have taken five or ten minutes at most, and they were now closer to an hour. “We need that data. No two ways about it.”
“What do you propose, docteur?”
“Another volunteer is the only option. Either that or we’ll need to draw straws.”
“Might we find someone closer?” Gaston asked. “Perhaps they would grab it for us?”
“I’ll look some more, but I’m not hopeful,” Dr. Forbes replied. He pressed a few more keys, and the camera screen began to change periodically. “I haven’t seen anyone alive in a while—at least, not in the classical sense.”
Five minutes came and went, came back as ten once for good measure and left again for good. Just as Dr. Forbes was about to give up on his search, a pair of coordinated, ambulatory figures with a steady gait moved past the view of camera 36b.
“There we go!” he shouted, jumping up in his chair and spilling the stale coffee that had been sitting on the desk. “I’ve got two moving through the entertainment deck!”
Gaston took a look. “Thank god,” he said. “I’ll look up the extension.”
“It’s seventy-six twenty, I believe,” Dr. Forbes replied, picking up the telephone. “Hopefully they’ll fare better than the intern.”
* * *
Another fifteen minutes passed, and Ken, thinking that all the zombies had all gone for good, eased out of his fortress and peered down the hall. The power continued to be erratic, causing lights to flicker and computer panels to shut down and reboot with loud chirps. The air conditioning had gone as well, leaving the air stifling and smelling like rotten eggs.
Still, Ken made a slow advance, his shotgun seated in his shoulder, reloaded, pumped and ready. After he made a couple of dozen cautious steps, the undead meandered into view. At first, they came from one direction, a side hall that ended in a storeroom. Eight shots thundered from his weapon, and five zombies dropped.
As he reloaded, more appeared, crashing through a door to the break room on his right. Ken retreated a few steps and opened fire again. His aim was true, and their ranks thinned, but in the end, he still didn’t have enough shells in the tubular magazine to deal with them all.
He tried to reload once more, but his hands shook and he dropped several shells in the process without getting a single one into the chamber. Practice with paper targets was never this hard, especially since they never tried to eat his brains.
Ken dropped the weapon and pulled his Anaconda free. Shots flew in rapid succession, and more bodies fell, but they kept coming. And before he knew it, Ken had squeezed off the first two rounds in his last and final reload.
Not liking his odds, Ken scooped up the Remington and retreated to his stronghold to reassess the situation. There he could reload in peace, stuff some more shotgun shells into his pockets, and do whatever else he might need to do to prepare for another sally. To his dismay, however, when he ran inside the room, he found it occupied. A zombie stopped its sniffing of a nearby air vent, turned, and lunged.
Ken panicked and forgot which gun was loaded and which was not. Thus, when he raised his shotgun and pulled the trigger, he wasn’t sure what to make of the metallic click that followed. That said, he was convinced that he didn’t want the nearby zombie to latch hold of him and drag him to the ground (which is precisely what happened a moment later). Nor did he want the creature to start feasting while he was still alive (which also commenced despite his protests).
All of these thoughts raced through Ken’s mind for a few, noisy seconds, and then took a detour down the zombie’s ragged esophagus.
* * *
The Entertainment Deck.
That was what the signs called it. Clarice had no idea at which point they had left an underground facility and boarded a ship, though given the choice of architecture and interior design, perhaps it was more of a starship than an ocean cruiser. On the bulkheads hung promotional posters from movies spanning decades, all of which were either of the science fiction or horror genre. Some of the space also held props. Most of these were a number of different weapons, but there was also the odd gadget or random costume scattered around as well. Even the lights had a movie feel to them, being of various spotlight design and coming in not only white, but also in red, green, and blue.
“This place reminds me of Planet Hollywood,” Clarice whispered while the two moved about. “Not at all what I expected when you said entertainment floor.”
“Me either,” Nick replied. “They certainly have eccentric tastes in interior design.”
Within the circular area where Clarice and Nick now stood, there was an assortment of enclosed displays, some lit, most not. Each had a different life-sized figure standing inside. None had any signs or plaques to reveal their identity, and as such, Clarice hadn’t the foggiest idea who or what they were. But she did settle on classifying them into three broad groups: space guy, alien creature, and robot thing.
“What else do you suppose is here?” she asked, turning away from one of the more bug-like alien displays.
“There’s a large video screen that way, and a tidy little kitchen as well,” Nick replied with a bob of his head. “Nice place to watch a movie or two, and I bet there’s a lot more we haven’t seen.”
“Given the past week, I’m not betting on anything, anymore.”
“Probably a good idea.”
“Okay, where are the stairs?” she asked, deciding that they had had enough sightseeing. Her eyes searched the gloom, fearful that an
other pair might be staring back at her. “I don’t like waiting around for them to figure out where we are.”
“I don’t know,” he answered. He slowly spun in place a few times before continuing. “I don’t remember this kidney-shaped room we’re in from the map, and those locked doors aren’t helping things either.”
Clarice ran her fingers through her hair, trying to rid herself of her growing angst. “So we’re stuck?”
“Maybe.”
“Well if you hadn’t screwed this place up, maybe we could find the way out,” said Clarice. The comment was true enough in her mind, but it came out harsher than she intended. Maybe he’d let it slide.
“Maybe if you hadn’t rushed me, this would have turned out better,” Nick replied. He shut his eyes, took a deep breath and slowly exhaled. “Let’s not fight. I’m sorry. You’re sorry. We need to get out of here.” When she didn’t say anything right away, he tacked on, “You are sorry, right?”
“Yes, but I’m also stressed and tired,” she said.
“Same. So let’s keep what’s left of our fighting energy pointed at the bad guys, yes?” He pointed to the ceiling. “If we could get more of the lights on, that would be a start.”
The power flickered once more, and with a loud pop, a few of the scant light sources were no more. Two distant ceiling lights offered a subtle reminder that it could be much worse.
“Jesus Christ.” The instant the words left her mouth, Clarice wondered if a prayer or two might not be helpful. Or maybe she shouldn’t have skipped church all those years. Either way, at this point, she was ready to make a deal with The Almighty. She then recalled something about God only helping those that helped themselves and decided to try something more practical. “Try your computer again.”
Nick sat on a nearby, black leather couch and pressed the power button. The small hum of the hard drive was soon followed by the welcome screen. Nick quickly logged in and shook his fist in triumph at the change of icons. “Well, something is back up,” he said. “I can reach their network, and that’s always a good start.”
“Thank God,” Clarice said. She felt about as she joined him on the couch, trying not to knock anything over. Thankfully, she succeeded in both endeavors. She leaned her head on his shoulder as he worked and snuck an arm under his and across his chest. “This sucks.”
“We’re getting out of here,” he said, kissing the top of her head.
“I know,” she replied, still attached to him. “It still sucks though.”
“This is much better than you biting my head off.”
Clarice pinched his side and smiled. “Then stop arguing with me.”
A couple of minutes passed, and Nick suddenly stopped his typing. His finger slowly traced over his mouse pad and issued a hesitant click.
“What is it?” Clarice asked, lifting off of his shoulder.
“You’re not going to believe this.”
“Try me.”
“There’s a game of minesweeper up.”
“And?”
“And that’s weird is all.”
Clarice shot him an unseen glare in the dark.
“Oh, hang on a minute.”
Her posture straightened, and she quickly leaned over. “Yes?”
“I think I can win this one.”
Clarice smacked him on the side of his head. “Get us out of here, dummy.”
“Chill, I was kidding,” he said as he continued to move about the broken network. “Here we go. I think I can get us some more light.”
“As long as you don’t make anything else happen that’d be awesome,” she said, trying her best to show a spur of playfulness. “You’ve been more than helpful in adding to the fun.”
“I’d like to see you do better,” he said, still working.
“Anything would have been better.” She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek. “I really was only trying to lighten the mood. Forgive me?”
“Always.” He then tapped the enter key triumphantly. “There we go.”
Clarice shielded her eyes as a number of ceiling lights sprang to life. “I knew I kept you around for a good reason,” she said, smiling and giving him a big squeeze. She looked around and noted that the detail on all the movie memorabilia was considerable. They were not the cheap renditions that she had originally assumed.
“I wonder if any of this is authentic,” she commented, moving about. “Holy cow,” she exclaimed. “They have Doctor Who’s police box and a full-sized dalek.”
“Come again?”
“This guy right here,” she said, tapping on the glass box that housed one of her robot things. “Don’t you think it looks like R2D2 and a dominatrix rolled into one?”
Nick laughed. “I can’t believe you even know what that is.”
“Thank my brother for that one. He loves the show.”
Before Nick could reply, something started ringing inside the police box, and Clarice nearly fell over dead from a heart attack.
Nick scrambled off the couch, pushed open the door, and grabbed the receiver before it could ring a third time. Clarice ran over and leaned in so she could hear as well.
“Christ,” Nick said, tentatively putting it to his ear. “Thanks, man. That’ll probably send them all this way.”
“No, I’m afraid I’m not,” came the reply on the other end. “Though I may be able to offer you some sort of salvation if you can help us out.”
“Who is this?” Nick asked.
“No one of consequence,” replied the voice. Laughter soon followed. “I’m sorry, I was trying to break the tension a little, and I’ve always wanted to say that. But on the serious side, it’s been shown that the endorphins produced by laughter are some two hundred times stronger than morphine.”
“Well, that might help if it was actually funny,” Nick replied with disdain. “So let’s cut the crap. Who is this?”
“This is Dr. Forbes, Nick. We’ve met before. Since we’re all in a high-stress situation, you might heed my advice and keep a sense of humor about.”
Nick paused before going on. “I’m sorry I snapped,” he replied and leaned against the wall. “We could have used help a long time ago, you know.”
“We all could have,” Dr. Forbes pointed out. “Now then, since you’re a few floors up from where you were staying, I can only assume you’re trying to leave. Is that correct?”
“Yes.”
“And that goes for your fiancée as well?”
“Obviously.”
“Good, then you’ll be pleased to know we’re all on the same page,” Dr. Forbes said with enthusiasm. “The two of you and the four of us all want to leave. Before we leave, we need you two to retrieve some research of ours.”
“You want us to grab some papers?” Nick asked.
“Oh, hell no,” Clarice butted in. “We’re not helping you psychos at all.”
“Well, that’s not a very friendly attitude, is it?” the doctor commented. “Look, Nick, let me lay down a few facts so we can all be friends.”
“I’m listening,” he said, giving Clarice the shush finger.
Clarice, in response, kicked him in the shins. Hard.
“Good,” Dr. Forbes said. “The surface doors are sealed. So you might as well forget about trying to get them open.”
“You’re just saying that,” Clarice interjected. “We’re not your lab rats anymore.”
“I assure you I am not,” Dr. Forbes replied. “We can wait here until you see for yourself, but I don’t want to risk losing the both of you if that can be helped.”
“Why are they sealed?” Nick asked.
“The main doors seal when a catastrophic cascade occurs,” the doctor said. “They aren’t tied to anything we have here, so there’s no overriding the blast doors unless you’re on the outside with a big book of signs and countersigns to key in.”
“I’ve never heard of such a thing,” Nick said.
“Well, it’s all in the policies and procedures book.”
> “We don’t work for you,” Nick pointed out.
Dr. Forbes chuckled. “Right you are. But nevertheless, it’s all there, right after the section on computing PDO time.”
“Fine, whatever. We’ll take your word for it that we can’t get out through the top. But you know how we can get out right?”
“I do,” affirmed the doctor. “At the bottom of this facility is another separate system we can engage. It’s the emergency egress system and was designed for just such a catastrophe.”
“So instead of keeping the front doors open, you guys thought it would be better to go out some bass-ackwards escape hatch?”
“First step is always containment,” the doctor explained. “Ideally, any type of problem would be contained and fixed. It’s tricky to guarantee that the problem won’t spread to the outside if anyone can walk out the front door. The egress system was put in place should it be deemed by administrative staff that the situation was critical and the facility had to be destroyed for whatever reason: war, spies, viral outbreak, zombies, you name it.”
“What happens if someone accidentally triggers it?” Nick asked. “Or intentionally, for that matter?”
“Only a few of us have the clearance to initiate the destruct sequence,” Dr. Forbes replied. “And we’re able to stop it as well, either through the software or by physically disconnecting some of the power couplings that serve to drive the reaction. Don’t worry, though. We won’t hit the big red button until it’s time, but doing so will cause us to lose anything we leave behind—”
“Which is why you need us,” finished Nick.
“Precisely.”
“One moment,” Nick said, putting the phone down and covering the mouthpiece as best he could. He gave an inquisitive look to Clarice.
“Are you insane?” Clarice asked, her eyes wide. “They tried to kill us and now you want to help them?”
“What choice do we have?”
“Plenty,” she said. “We’ve done pretty well so far. We can find our own way out.”
Nick chewed on his lower lip. “I can hack a lot,” he said. “But if those doors are sealed and isolated like he said they are, there’s no way I can get them open.”
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