The Z Directive (Book 2): Mutation

by Thompson, Chris

  “You were already briefed?” Smith asked Ridgewell.

  “I was told what I needed to know. There’s a bomb of some kind and I might need to disable it. The rest of what you all had to say was new.”

  “I see,” Tyrone commented while Jack put his tablet away.

  “So what was it? Nuclear?” Smith wanted to know.

  “Nah, there wasn’t any radiation in the area. But it was something big, that’s for sure,” Ridgwell responded.

  “I’m glad to see we’re bringing an expert,” Bridges commented snidely. Ridgewell looked at him and smiled coldly.

  “Yeah, you should be. To make a hole that big means that I’ll be working on one of the largest explosive caches I’ve ever seen,” Ridgewell explained.

  “And you think you can disarm it?” Bridges asked, his tone mixing incredulity with minor awe. Ridgewell smiled again, but this time more warmly.

  “No idea, man, but I’ll give it a go. The bright side is, if I can’t, you’ll have a hell of a tan before you die,” he responded, laughing to himself as he shifted to a more comfortable position in his seat. Bridges shook his head.

  With Ridgewell’s opinion on the subject aired the briefing was over and there was little more that needed to be said. It was all done but the waiting. Jack glanced at his watch and saw that they’d been in the air for about ten minutes. Twenty five minutes later they’d be approaching Woodhill. Jack retrieved the tablet computer from its pouch and reviewed the map of Woodhill again. Their insertion point was a rooftop near an intersection three blocks south of the town hall. The UAV sweeps showed it to be clear of hostiles, though there were signs of past conflict: an overturned car blocking off the western avenue, a pair of police cruisers on the north and south roads that likely formed some kind of road block, and what appeared to be skeletal remains strewn about.

  “Here’s a question,” Tyrone said, drawing Jack’s attention. “If someone removed Woodhill from the search and rescue orders Maxwell issued, why didn’t anyone hear from the town directly?”

  Jack thought about it for a moment.

  “There are a few possibilities. The first is that someone sabotaged their ability to communicate with the outside world - either by destroying transmitters and cellphone towers or setting up some kind of jamming device. Secondly, Bolvinox could’ve had people in positions of power, such as the police and or local government who somehow prevented their colleagues from contacting the base - though I think that’s the least likely as it doesn’t explain why civilians didn’t attempt to do so themselves.”

  “Third, I suppose it could’ve happened too fast for the locals to get the word out,” Tyrone suggested.

  “Or fourth their calls for help could simply have been overlooked,” Bridges stated. “I mean, the folks in comms are up to their asses, so some messages are bound to have been overlooked.”

  It was an oddly on point suggestion from him, Jack thought, lacking his normally smartass nature. They were all good possibilities, although in all honesty, it didn’t really matter at that moment.

  “Well, as long as there are no jammers in place now so we can maintain our comm link with Hall, the ifs and buts and maybes can wait for another time,” Jack declared before he returned to viewing the tablet.

  There was no map of the subterranean facility, and no information in the data decrypted so far which gave an indication of the layout of the Redshield Facility - not even an indication of its scale. Further, there wasn’t a clear indication of how to gain access to the facility beneath the town, so if they couldn’t figure out how to get inside via the town hall, they might need to hike out to the old silver mine and see if they could discover how to gain entry from there. Hall had, however, managed to pull up the blueprints on the Woodhill Town Hall and included them in the data packet. The structure was composed of two stories, with a large entrance hall which had a staircase going up to the second floor as the most prominent central feature. There was a circular desk that served as a front position, with passages on its left and right behind a pair of doors that led to offices and meetings rooms - about six on each - none of which had a named purpose. There were also restrooms, but Jack didn’t think they’d need to know the way to them. Upstairs, there was a much larger room on the left side of the building, which was likely the mayor's office, as well as a number of conference rooms and smaller offices. Jack didn’t know what purpose the latter served, but unless they needed to search all of them for some method of gaining entrance to the facility, he didn’t imagine he needed to. What were of principal interest were the blueprints of the service and storage areas beneath the town hall. If there was a place for a concealed, not necessarily convenient, access to a secret underground base that would surely be the place for it. There was apparently a loading dock with an elevator which led down to them behind the building, as well as a stairwell access point in the rear right corner of the main lobby. He could imagine the loading dock being used for deliveries of supplies and goods - things which wouldn’t raise too much attention. The stairs indoors could be used whenever personnel needed to come or go during regular working hours. He supposed if they needed to bring something in which might not fit through the service entrance, they would take it through the entrance in the silver mine.

  “Emma, you suggested there were living quarters on the first level? How many personnel do you think we can expect to find down there?”

  “Well, there were about fifty or sixty lab techs at Bluefields, about twenty security people; so more or less eighty depending on whether Redshield is a larger or smaller facility,” she reported.

  “Plus whatever infected are down there,” Tyrone added. “If they were doing the same kind of research, of course.”

  “Major Ramsay,” the pilot announced over the radio, “we’re ten minutes out. Prepare for insertion!”

  Jack glanced at his watch and saw he had spent longer looking over the information than he thought.

  “Roger that,” Jack returned. He put the computer away, double checked his gear - as did his team members – and then, with Tyrone’s assistance, opened the side door of the helicopter. The two men lingered near the opening. Gloom shrouded the cornfields below them, although there was a full moon, so enough light for Jack to see the landscape blurring past them. He leaned forward, looking ahead towards Woodhill’s location. There was a glow from the settlement illuminating the horizon. The town still had power, which was a plus, but he couldn’t make out much more than that.

  “We’ve got other passengers to pick up and drop off after insertion, but we’ll be able to pick you up starting one hour from now. When you’re ready for extraction, call us early because there’s no way to shave off any travel time,” the pilot instructed.

  “Hold position for five minutes once we’re down to make sure we don’t need immediate extraction, then go about your business,” Jack told him.

  “Will do.”

  The helicopter powered forward and eventually the cornfields yielded to grassy plains, then suburban dwellings. There were a few other amenities - a gas station, some small stores and restaurants - before the town became urbanised. There were streets with cars parked by the sidewalk while in others they had been hastily abandoned, many with their doors open. The street lights provided enough illumination for it to be obvious that the fight for survival had reached the outskirts of Woodhill, which led Jack to wonder if anyone had managed to escape the devastation. It seemed likely, but Jack couldn’t know for sure. He also briefly wondered about survivors in Redshield. If the facility had good security, and there hadn’t been some kind of outbreak within, then it was entirely possible Jack and his team would encounter enemy forces as soon as they gained entry.

  Jack’s mind raced with the myriad of possibilities they might encounter below, and his heart raced with that nervous excitement he felt before a mission. Anything could happen once they touched down, and although he was attempting to anticipate all possibilities and develop strategies to c
ounter any threats, Jack knew the safety of his team and the success of their mission relied just as much on their ability to improvise as well as planning.

  “Two minutes!” the pilot announced.

  “Jack, we’ve swept the area with a UAV and your insertion point seems clear, as does the route up to the town hall. You shouldn’t encounter any resistance,” Hall advised.

  “Understood,” Jack returned.

  The helicopter banked a little as the pilot adjusted course, then the vehicle slowed. When the pilot brought them to a stop above the intersection, Jack leaned out and saw the town hall was visible.

  “We roping?” Bridges questioned.

  “Yeah,” Jack responded, turning in unison with Tyrone as they retrieved the bundles of rappelling rope near the door. They secured them to the rings in the floor of the cabin, and as soon as the helicopter shifted into position over the rooftop of the building they had previously decided upon, Tyrone and Jack heaved them out. Next, they set about making sure everyone was ready to bail out and descend swiftly. Emma looked nervous, but Jack set her harness up then lay a comforting hand on her shoulder for a moment.

  “You’ll do fine,” he told her.

  “Sure I will. I’ve gone from working in a nice, air conditioned laboratory to rappelling from a helicopter into a town destroyed by zombies,” she declared, sarcasm lacing her tone. Jack smiled broadly, then briefly explained how to control her momentum, assuring her that he would go first and if she followed behind him, he would ensure she didn’t come to harm.

  With that done, Jack approached the door, held the rope and stepped down to brace his feet against the landing strut. Tyrone was beside him on the other rope, ready to drop down into hell once more. One deep breath later, Jack kicked off the landing strut and began to fall, controlling his descent so he moved quickly but safely down onto the rooftop. Jack disconnected his harness from the rope and then looked up, watching as Emma mimicked his movements. It wasn’t a smooth descent, but she made it down safely and Jack caught her and helped her to disconnect herself from the rope. They moved aside, as did Tyrone, and the rest of the team disembarked. Jack and Tyrone had surveyed the immediate area while they were still in the air, but other than a couple of jutting air conditioning units, there was nowhere for targets to hide. Worryingly, the sound of the helicopters rotors drowned out all others, preventing Jack from detecting any sound of the infected nearby. However, he shrugged off his concern with the certainty that should they come across any enemy targets once they were on the ground, they would deal with them without mercy. The ropes began to rise as they were hauled back inside, and then the helicopter banked away.

  “We’re going to spin around the block for five minutes as instructed then we’re moving on,” the pilot informed Jack.

  “Understood. Hopefully we won’t need you until we have what we came for,” Jack returned. He brought his weapon to a half-ready position and started towards the fire-escape, which was visible on the north side of the building. Emma fell into place directly behind him, with Tyrone behind her. The others followed in single file: Bridges, Smith, then Ridgewell.

  The fire escape led down into an alleyway behind the building. It was clear of hostiles and also clear of signs there had been a slaughter: no bones, no blood and no dead infected. It made an almost pleasant change of pace from the alleyways of Dewbury, which, like the streets themselves, could almost be considered unmarked mass graves. The team clunked down the metal steps of the fire escape, moving quickly to reach the lower section. Jack lowered the ladder then led the way down, and when he reached street level, ensured it was secure by sweeping both the west and east exits before cautiously approaching the street. The air was tainted by the stench of decay, but it was nowhere near as overwhelming as Dewbury. It merely hung on the subtle breeze as though it was a reminder to Jack and the others of the horror engulfing the rest of the world. Looking south, Jack could see dead infected scattered before a police blockade, as well as blood sprayed and spattered over the vehicles both from the dead infected and the slaughtered defenders of the town. When he turned north, Jack could see the red and white brick structure of the town hall. In five or ten minutes, he and the others would be at the entrance of the Redshield facility, and hopefully, they would find answers to their questions about the zombie virus within it.

  “Hall,” Jack started, “we’re going in.”

  Chapter Three

  JACK AND HIS TEAM MAINTAINED their single file formation, and just in case there was any infected lurking in the buildings on either side of the street, they remained in the middle of the road. There were few obstructions, but there were obvious signs of battle: spent casings littered the floor, burnt rubber from speeding tires and the foul smelling, rotting corpses of the infected. While it was apparent that the town had been overwhelmed, it seemed that the defenders had fought valiantly. Jack only hoped they had managed to save some lives before they died.

  There was a T-junction at the end of the street, with the town hall in the middle reached via a path which divided a small grassy area that led to the steps of the building. There wasn’t much in the way of extravagant adornment as Jack had seen in other local government buildings, there was simply illuminated lettering which spelt out ‘Woodhill Town Hall’, above the glass doors. What hadn’t been revealed on the area surveillance was that the doors had been breached, the panes mostly reduced to a scattering of glass fragments across the floor - although several large shards protruding from the top and sides of the metal frames. Advancing towards the junction, Jack slowed the team so they could approach with more caution, and as soon as they set foot on the stretch of sidewalk at the end of the path he and Tyrone pulled ahead, a simple hand gesture indicating the others should slow down even further. The pair made their way swiftly up the path, observing fallen infected corpses on the grass on either side. Jack made quick, careful observations to make sure the infected were really dead, rather than simply laying in wait. There were zombies in Dewbury which would remain motionless, acting as though they were corpses right up until the moment they chose to strike. It was a sign of intelligence that was somewhat disturbing, and had cost the lives of good men and women who hadn’t realized the danger beside them.

  Reaching the bottom of the steps - blood spurts painting them with spatter and forming arcs up and away from them - Jack and Tyrone peered into the lobby. The circular desk was there, as it should be according to the blueprints, but there was a lot of blood. It was dry, as was the blood outside, indicating it had been there for some time.

  “If I had to guess, I’d say the party happened a couple of days ago,” Jack announced quietly.

  “They put up a hell of a fight.”

  “It still gets me how this has all happened in just a matter of, what, two weeks?” Jack questioned rhetorically. The pair approached the doors and stepped through the opening created when it was breached, which was large enough for them to pass inside without being snagged by the shards still held in place. Their boots crunched on the glass, and then the pair stood immobile, surveying the lobby. There was more blood leading up the stairs, sprays and droplets which led Jack to suspect people had been injured and fled up the stairs to safety. Tyrone checked left while Jack checked right. As in the blueprints, there was a pair of doors on both sides, which were closed, and there, against the doors on the right, were the first skeletal remains to be found; the scraps of clothing suggesting it was a security guard. A pistol lay on the floor beside it with a magazine half driven inside, which told a story of a frantic attempt to reload before he or she was dragged down by the infected and devoured.

  Tyrone and Jack continued to advance, stopping only when they were by the reception desk. Jack peered over and found the desktop below the raised outer circle daubed in blood, and the suited remains of a man who had been torn in half by the infected before being mostly devoured on the floor behind it. Despite the grizzly sights however, the immediate area was secure.

  “
Move up,” Jack instructed over the radio, and a few moments later he heard the rest of the team crunching over the glass in the doorway. He briefly surveyed the side Tyrone had checked and saw those doors were also closed. It was a wild guess, but he figured anyone who had retreated into the left and right side of the building would likely have blocked off the doors, but unless he tried them there was no way to know. Perhaps later they could see if there were any survivors. First, they needed to complete their mission.

  “Okay,” Jack declared. “I’m guessing that the entrance to the Redshield facility is in the basement, but we don’t know for sure. Ty, Ridgewell and I are going to take a look. Bridges, Smith, Emma, stay here and keep an eye out for any infected following us, or any that suddenly appear in the building. If something happens and we need to get out of here quickly, contact us and we’ll all use the rear service entrance to get out.”

  “Understood,” his team replied in unison.

  “If we find the entrance, depending on whether we can get the bloody thing open, we’ll either have you join us or commence a search to locate whatever opens it: keycard, access code or weird artifact of unknown origin,” Jack concluded wryly, hoping to lighten the mood of his team a little. Bridges smirked.

  “Be careful,” Emma stated; moderate concern on her features.

  “We will,” Jack told her before glancing to the partially obscured, gunmetal gray door tucked in the corner. “Let’s go.”

  Jack led the way around the desk, Tyrone to his left and Ridgewell on his right. Once at the door, Jack lowered his weapon and grabbed the door handle. He quickly glanced at both men beside him, then wrenched the door handle and pushed it inward. Gray concrete bricks faced him across a square landing, with an immediate right turn. Jack stepped in, Tyrone next and Ridgewell last.

  Looking ahead, there were concrete steps leading down to the lower level, but it was difficult to see as the lighting was poor, with scattered glass fragments on the floor indicating the fluorescent tubes overhead had been smashed. How it had happened Jack wasn’t sure, but as he began to crunch his way down, he activated the flashlight mounted on his rifle and shone it down the steps. There were no other signs of violence - no bullet impacts, blood or corpses - and once at the bottom Jack saw that the corridor they stepped into widened out. It was wide enough for four people to walk side by side, with gray concrete floors and walls and a multitude of broken lights. Someone, it seemed, had broken them all the way down to the end of the corridor. Jack continued forward, sweeping the area with his light for any indication of threats, but there continued to be an almost disconcerting lack of anything dangerous. His own illumination now mingling with that provided by Tyrone and Ridgeway’s, revealed three metallic doors on the left and two on the right. Carefully, Jack approached the first on the left, tried the handle and found it unlocked.