The Z Directive (Book 2): Mutation

by Thompson, Chris

  Hall stood, looked at Maxwell for just a moment, then nodded again and left the room. Seeing his cigarette had almost burned away entirely, Maxwell stubbed it out in the ashtray and retrieved a new one.

  JACK DROPPED THE HEAVY bookcase he and Tyrone were moving with a pained grunt. They were searching the office of the town council’s legal advisor, and like every lawyer Jack had ever seen, he had a bookcase filled with law books in his office. They’d hoped it might harbor some secret entrance behind it, but there was nothing. In retrospect, Jack realized it would probably need to be more easily accessible than behind a heavy bookcase, but they were running out of places to look. It had been twenty minutes since they’d struck out in the basement, and despite Hall checking in on them twice, with a slight exasperation in her tone when he reported continued failure to locate the entrance, they still had nothing more to go on.

  “Jack, we must’ve missed something or the data was wrong,” Tyrone announced, breathing a little heavier than normal.

  “Yeah, either of those is looking likely at this point,” Jack returned, looking around the ruined office for anything they hadn’t turned over yet. “Bridges, have you found anything yet?”

  “Yep, we found a secret entrance to an underground scientific base, but we kept it to ourselves. Ow!” he added after a smacking sound.

  “No, sir,” Smith reported.

  “I’m heading into the mayor’s office now,” Emma told him.

  “Okay, let us know if you see anything interesting,” Jack instructed, while leaning his rear on a desk while he caught his breath. “So, back to the basement or take a walk out to the silver mine?” he asked Tyrone.

  “I don’t know. What if the data was wrong?”

  “It was heavily encrypted though. It’d be a lot of effort to bury a false lead.”

  “It’s nothing that hasn’t been done before in espionage.”

  Jack nodded.

  “Well, let’s keep the faith going and take another look around the basement,” Jack told him as he started towards the door.

  “Shit!” Emma exclaimed over the radio. Immediately, Jack brought his own weapon to a ready position and sped out into the corridor, hearing the hurried footsteps of Tyrone and Ridgewell behind him.

  “Emma, what’s wrong?” Jack demanded.

  “It’s okay! I’m okay!” Emma responded. “I-I was just caught off-guard, is all.”

  Jack raced back into the lobby, spun on his heel and hurried across to the stairs, which he then took two at a time until, reaching the upper level, he turned sharp left, moving in the direction he had previously assumed the mayor’s office would be. He trusted Emma to take care of herself, but if there were infected on that side of the building, then she and the other team members she was with could find themselves overwhelmed.

  Within a minute, Jack, Tyrone and Ridgewell were in the corridor housing the mayor's office. Emma was standing in the doorway, looking inside cautiously. She glanced left and saw the entire team approaching her, then refocused ahead.

  “I told you guys I was fine,” she insisted.

  “Right, but because we haven’t seen any infected doesn’t mean there are none lurking about,” Tyrone stated, seemingly having read Jack’s thought process as they ran. It was more like the Tyrone Jack used to know.

  “We’re done downstairs anyway. Maybe there’s something up here,” Jack added. He approached the room as Emma went inside. It was a very large office, one might even have called it luxuriously sized, Jack considered. In front of a floor to ceiling window that afforded a nice view of Woodhill, there was a large oak desk, a tall, leather chair with its back turned towards the door in the middle of it. At his feet was the corpse of a man in a suit; a gaping wound in his neck immediately identifying him as one of the infected, and the bullet hole through his forehead indicating he had undoubtedly just been killed by Emma. There were three other corpses, near the desk. They’d been gunned down at some point, though the bullet holes adorning the plaster walls indicated the shooter wasn’t an expert. In that office, as with a few of the others, there were a couple of glass fronted cabinets. One seemed to be for alcoholic drinks, the bottles arrayed on one of the shelves putting on a colourful display, while the other contained a series of photos of the town throughout its lifetime; from slightly faded black and white images to high resolution pictures from more recent years. There was a comfortable looking sofa on the left, with a bookcase on one side and a table with a lamp on it on the other; suggesting it was a reading area. On the opposite side, a glass topped coffee table stood in front of a second sofa. All in all, the room wouldn’t have looked out of place as the lounge of a large apartment.

  “Bridges, Smith, Ridgewell, sweep the rest of the floor and make sure there are no hostiles hiding,” Jack instructed as he approached the side of the desk. Moving around, he checked out the chair and found a late middle-aged man sitting there, having taken a last view of the town. The top of his head had a gaping exit wound, and the blood underneath his jaw suggested he’d fired up. Glancing up at the ceiling revealed the spatter that contained part of his brain.

  “Guess he decided to check out,” Tyrone commented from the opposite side of the body.

  “I guess.”

  Jack looked at the pictures on the desk and saw images of the man in life, with a woman about his own age and younger adults with small children. It suggested to Jack that this man was the mayor, and the people in the picture were his family, down to the youngest generation.

  “Wonder what happened to them?” Jack idly posed.

  “If he’s here and dead, I’d imagine it didn’t end well for them either,” Tyrone stated darkly.

  There was a computer on the desk, which Jack turned on before beginning to examine the corpse.

  “Emma, check this computer for us, see if there’s anything that might give us a lead on where the damn entrance is,” Jack told her. She came around the desk and grabbed the keyboard and mouse, dragging them closer while Jack wheeled the chair away so he could check the mayor’s corpse for anything useful, not that he honestly expected there would be. Tyrone, without needing to be told, went to the cabinet with the pictures and began searching through it.

  “It looks clear up here, sir,” Smith reported over the radio.

  “A couple of rooms to go,” Bridges added.

  Jack had retrieved the mayor’s wallet and opened it to discover his name was Nathan Wisely, according to his driver’s license. Other than that, however, there wasn’t much in his pockets. The gun he’d used to kill himself had been a revolver, which had dropped to the floor beside the chair where he had taken his final breath. Examining it revealed he had expended all six of its shots. A picture of his final moments became clear to Jack: the undead had forced their way into the office and he had attempted to dispatch them from his seated position. He nailed three but with two misses and one bullet left, he decided to save himself the horror of being eaten alive and executed himself. It was a terrible choice he’d been forced to make, one that Jack hoped none of his team - or himself - would ever have to face. He wheeled Nathan into the corner before moving on to the other corpses. He searched the first three relatively quickly, patting down their pockets and finding nothing but wallets. Their formal attire suggested they might have been employees in the town hall, but that was pure speculation.

  “I’ve got something here,” Emma announced, tapping on the mouse as she spoke.

  “What is it?” Jack probed.

  “The mayor left a, well, I guess it’s a last testament. He tried to send an email but it didn’t go through. I don’t see any connection, so I’m guessing it’s because the internet is down here. I’ll summarize it. Basically, he sold the silver mine to a corporation he doesn’t name so they could install a containment facility. He makes it clear that he thought they were dumping waste down there, and apparently only agreed as the town was on its last legs, financially speaking, so it was either that or they’d have to start closi
ng businesses.”

  “I guess that was Bolvinox?” Tyrone questioned.

  “Seems likely,” Emma agreed. “Then seven days ago, after the start of the outbreak, he was contacted by the company and told he would have to evacuate the town. Unfortunately, the local municipalities were just too slow in reacting and the infected came up from the basement. There were reports of zombies out near the old mine entrance too.”

  “Up through the basement, eh?” Jack questioned rhetorically. As he heard this, he began examining the fourth corpse - the one Emma had put down - and found a pistol in a shoulder holster but no form of identification. As Jack was about to give up, he found a concealed pocket in his jacket where it lay against the shoulder holster. Jack opened it and found a small, thin piece of metal that had a rounded end. He examined it and observed a few minor details; the first was a slight groove around the other end, and when Jack twisted it, the second detail was revealed in the form of four smaller pieces of metal with irregular shapes that came out of the groove in an X shape. It made Jack think of a key, but he couldn’t be sure.

  “So, apparently, Nathan wanted to let people know that the corporation dumped something in the mine which he thinks is related to the emergence of the undead - given their insistence that the town be evacuated.”

  “But he doesn’t name the company at all?” Tyrone questioned.

  “No. Maybe they never identified themselves directly, or maybe he thought the name they gave him was a lie... On the other hand, maybe he just loved being mysterious,” Emma commented darkly. She looked up at Jack and saw him fiddling with the piece of metal. “What’s that?”

  “I’m not sure, but this guy was packing and he has no identification,” Jack answered. “I think it might be the key to the entrance.”

  “Great, now we just need to find the lock it opens.”

  Jack twisted the metal again and the protrudences slipped back into the metal slip.

  “I think I’ve got an idea about that,” Jack announced.

  Chapter Four

  JACK LED THE WHOLE team back down into the basement and on to the service elevator they had previously used to check outside. He boarded the platform alone, leaving the others to keep watch and test his suspicion. Jack pressed the up button on the panel, going up about halfway before hitting the stop button and freezing the elevator in place.

  “Okay, Jack, we’re watching,” Tyrone announced. Jack took the metal slip and, having twisted it, inserted it into the ‘reset’ hole in the panel. It fitted perfectly, and the twistable part at the top was easy to rotate. Inside the panel, there were some clicking sounds, and then from below there was a far more audible clunk.

  “Well, it did something,” Jack announced before pressing the down button. The elevator trundled down, but the metallic groans and squeaks of the motor working were eventually subdued by a louder sound of metal plates moving.

  “Jack, the plate beneath the elevator is opening!” Tyrone announced hurriedly. Jack hit the stop button again and hopped down to ground level. The platform was about a quarter up from the now yawning aperture where the elevator normally came to rest. There were lights maybe ten feet or so apart going down some distance, but Jack couldn’t see exactly how far without crawling out over the hole and he really didn’t want to do that.

  “So, down we go?” Bridges asked.

  “Was there an elevator like this in Bluefields?” Jack asked as he stood back up, glancing at Emma.

  “Not that I saw.”

  “I see,” Jack returned. It seemed to Jack that this was the primary entrance to the facility, which meant without traipsing out to the mines they were unlikely to gain entry any other way. The reason this caused him to pause was because there was no cover on the platform, and as it went down some distance, it would be easy for them to be ambushed once the elevator reached the bottom. Jack climbed back onto the platform and brought the elevator down to ground level, then turned and pointed towards some of the crates.

  “Let’s get them over here to give us something to duck behind if Bolvinox’s security or the infected are waiting for us down there,” he instructed.

  It took several minutes, but when they were done, they’d dragged two large crates onto the platform, with a couple of smaller ones in-between. Though they might not provide safety from a barrage for any length of time, it would give them long enough to get the elevator moving up again, while holding back any targets should there be a large number of them at the bottom of the elevator. It was rough, but the best they could do. With their defenses prepared, the team boarded the elevator. Jack and Tyrone were in a kneeling position, partially obscured behind the smaller crates, while Bridges and Smith were at the corners of the large crates on the left and right respectively. Emma was ready to push the down button on the panel, and last but not least, Ridgewell was standing behind Jack, with the intention of firing over the heads of Jack and Tyrone should he need to.

  “Punch it,” Jack instructed simply, his weapon braced against his shoulder ready to fire. Emma pressed the button and took cover behind the large crate on the right, her pistol held in both hands in case she needed to defend herself.

  The elevator began to rumble downwards, the ground level rising above them as it passed down into the sub basement area of the Redshield Facility. Glancing upwards after a few seconds, Jack saw the metal plates sliding back into place and forming a near perfect floor, with the exception of the round hole left by the absence of the support strut for the platform. Although he held himself ready for action, his mind drifted to the pre-zombie apocalypse. At first he considered the lack of a support strut might look suspicious to any layperson who worked in the building, but then he recalled the security efforts, and figured they would be enough to deter most. Plus, given the lengths Bolvinox had gone to in their attempt to kill Emma, it suggested to Jack that anyone who did find their way into the strange room and discovered the elevator suspiciously missing might not have lived long enough to ask too many questions.

  The elevator continued its journey. It wasn’t moving quickly enough for Jack’s liking, and he found himself feeling a little impatient. It was born from concern over what might lie below and how quickly they might be able to go back up if it was too dangerous. He shifted his finger to the trigger and aimed down the sight of his weapon. Briefly, he glanced at Tyrone and saw he held a similar expression of concern and anticipation.

  “So, what do we think? Bolvinox security or flesh eating zombies?” Bridges asked suddenly.

  “What?” Smith questioned.

  “You know, waiting for us. Zombies or soldiers, which one will it be?”

  “There’s another possibility,” Smith countered.

  “Yeah?”

  “Zombie soldiers. Undead that use weapons, that kind of thing.”

  This was something else Jack had noticed: the pair had become a little more playful in their interactions since their ordeal, at least on occasion.

  “Possibly. Or maybe it’ll be something completely different,” Bridges stated. “Maybe it’ll be some kind of undead animal.”

  “I’ve never seen a zombified dog or horse or whatever. The undead don’t seem to go for animals for some reason.”

  “So? They might’ve deliberately infected some animals with it here.”

  “Or maybe there’s going to be an alien or some shit down there,” Ridgewell commented. “I mean, this is based on alien bacteria, isn’t it? Maybe Bolvinox really made contact with some kind of alien and it was them that boosted their technology, leading humanity to destroy itself so they could colonize the world.”

  “You really think there might be aliens down there?” Bridges asked him, sounding a little incredulous.

  “Why not, man? I mean we’re up to our asses in the undead, might as well throw some aliens in there too.”

  “Okay, that’s enough,” Tyrone stated as the elevator continued its downward rumbling.

  “We’re just hypothesizing.”

&
nbsp; “Bridges, you’re not built for thinking, so don’t strain yourself.”

  “Words hurt, sir.”

  “My boot in your ass will hurt a lot more,” Tyrone threatened.

  Jack didn’t intervene. Banter between the team was just their way of dealing with stress, and in that minute, Jack was feeling pretty stressed himself. His heart pounded in anticipation, sweat was forming on his brow from both the tension and the gathering warmth in the air around them. Though unintended, the wild speculation from his team had sparked a few ideas of his own, ranging from some kind of automated defenses to the triggering of some kind of booby trap through a failure to present some necessary identification. His whole body tensed as the elevator continued rolling down. It had been trundling for a couple of minutes at least now, though it felt far longer to Jack as they slipped further and further beneath the ground.

  “Ram—” Hall started, but the rest of her words became garbled and drowned out by static.

  “Hall?” Jack questioned. “Hall, we’re losing contact.”

  “—well ordered—” she continued.

  “Hall, you’re breaking up. Was that about Maxwell?”

  “—status—” was the next word Hall said that Jack could decipher, then the signal died completely.

  “Well, that let us know we’re down far enough to cut off our connection to the outside,” Tyrone stated.

  “Will the radios work amongst ourselves?” Emma questioned.

  “Yeah, the short-range part will work fine, unless you’re on the first sublevel and you’re trying to reach someone who’s too far below you,” Bridges responded, “but the satellite connection we have is too weak to penetrate this far below ground.”

  Jack glanced up the dark tunnel above, realizing he was having difficulty determining whether or not he could see the metal plate that had sealed overhead.

  “Here we go,” Tyrone announced as a now familiar stench - the stench of blood and decay - assaulted their senses. Jack refocused ahead. In those moments he’d been looking up, the top of an aperture had appeared, and it had now risen to about a quarter of the way up. It was well lit, but Jack kept his flashlight on just in case, looking carefully ahead as the platform slid into place and stopped with a heavy mechanical clunk and a barely detectable organic crunching. There was no gunfire, no howls from the undead as they surged forward to claim fresh meat, but there was a scene of horrific carnage before them.