by Ellis, Tripp
“I don’t want to go down there,” Chloe said, clutching Mr. Carlisle.
“I’m sorry, but we have to.”
“It smells like poo.”
“It’s not poo,” Steele said. “It’s just runoff water.”
“It still smells like poo.”
“I promise, it’s not poo.”
“You’re just saying that so I’ll go down there.”
“You’re not scared, are you?” Steele asked.
“No.”
“I think you’re scared,” Steele said, taunting her.
“I am not.” She handed him the stuffed tiger. “Hold him for me.” Then she climbed down into the sewer.
Steele stuffed the animal into his pack and followed Chloe down the manhole.
The tunnel was pitch black. But night vision tactical goggles illuminated the storm drain for Steele, Parker, and Delroy. The others were literally left in the dark. It was cold and damp and eerie. Steele lit his flashlight so the others would be able to see. All they would have to do is follow the current—it would take them to the outfall.
The water was cold and the concrete was slick with algae. It was a part of the city that few had ever seen. Some sections of the tunnel walls were littered with graffiti. Not your average graffiti either. But elaborate works of art. Poems about injustice and the forgotten. Of greed and consumerism. Of oppression and tyranny.
Steele sloshed through the runoff water, leading the pack of refugees. It was 17 miles to the containment wall. The tattered refugees would have to trudge through a toxic sludge of wastewater and debris.
And rats.
The rats seemed to be the only thing thriving in the containment zone. Hundreds of them lined the banks of the oval-shaped tunnel, scavenging for whatever sustenance they could find. Steele was uncertain whether they were affected by the virus. At first glance, they looked normal enough. But they could be carriers, he thought. Rats had long since been blamed as carriers of the bubonic plague. Scientists had suspected that bacteria-ridden fleas hosted by the rats were the culprit. Though recent evidence suggested gerbils may be more at fault. Either way, a hundred million people died during the Black Death. It made the deaths in the quarantine zone pale in comparison. But if Raddick was right, this was just the beginning.
All kinds of things found their way into the storm drains. Trash, old toys, snakes, and lots of cockroaches. Even the infected had found their way into the tunnels. Sometimes they were staggering about. Sometimes they were floating helplessly with the current. Those were the worst kind. They could float up behind you and take a chunk out of your skin before you knew what happened.
The group marched through the muck for hours, dispatching any lurkers they came upon. Anyone with an open wound was likely to get an infection from the bacteria-ridden water. Even more frightening was the possibility of infected blood in the water. No one was really sure how long the virus would live outside the body when exposed to air. More than likely, minute amounts of infected blood in the runoff water wouldn’t be enough to infect anyone. But no one could be certain of that.
About half way through the tunnel, Steele let the team rest. At this pace, they had another few hours to go. The refugees didn’t look like they could take another step. Each one carrying and extra 25 pounds in the form of a titrillium bar. It doesn’t sound like much, but trudging through the stormwater, the weight was like an anchor. They had taken turns carrying Xavier. But it was still a daunting task, and they all looked haggard. Xavier’s skin was green and sickly. Sweat dripped from his body, despite the chill in the air.
“Do you think he’s going to make it,” Parker asked. She looked genuinely concerned.
Steele shrugged. “I hope so.”
His eyes found Gabriel in the crowd of weary refugees. Steele sloshed across the water to the embankment on the other side where Gabriel was sitting. “Come with me,” Steele said, motioning to him.
The two walked upstream, away from the group. Steele wanted a little privacy. “Tell me everything you know.”
“About?”
“Don’t play dumb with me.”
“Oh, that,” Gabriel said. “Where do you want me to start?”
“How about the beginning.”
“People have one of two reactions when they speak to me. They either want to kill me because they think this is all my fault. Or they want me to cure them.”
Steele’s eyes narrowed.
“I’ll tell you everything I know. But you don’t tell the others.”
“How do you know my reaction is not going to be to kill you?”
Gabriel looked into Steele’s eyes. “I don’t see murder in your eyes. You’re actually a decent human being.”
“What makes you so sure?”
“I know people.”
“It seems you know how to kill them,” Steele said.
Gabriel smirked. “Seems you and I aren’t so different.”
“Was this a weaponized virus?”
“No. We were trying to create a chronic, manageable condition.”
“And let me guess, people would have to buy the cure from you?”
“The Pharma industry loves chronic manageable conditions. Just one pill a day for the rest of your life.”
“So what went wrong?”
“We don’t know,” Gabriel said. “Some type of mutation occurred. It was supposed to be a self-perpetuating condition. But something went wrong.”
“That’s an understatement.” Steele was furious. Corporate greed at its finest. “When does it become airborne?”
Gabriel was about to answer that when a commotion erupted in the tunnel. A cacophony of shrill screams filled the air. Finn had grabbed ahold of a woman and was sinking his teeth into her neck.
CHAPTER 30
STEELE BOUNDED DOWN the tunnel as Finn tore into the woman’s flesh. Muscles and tendons snapped. Veins ripped apart and spurted blood into the air.
Finn must have gotten bit at some point. Probably on his way back from the tunnel, before he reached the others at the scrapyard.
The woman screamed a mix of pain and terror.
Steele unsheathed his sword and spun it through the air. He sliced through Finn's neck as he ripped another chunk of flesh from the woman. Finn's head toppled, plunking into the water. His headless body lurched and grabbed at the woman.
She scurried away, clutching the gaping wound in her neck. But she didn’t get far. Her carotid artery was severed. She bled out within a minute. And no one tried to save her. The crowd of refugees parted. No one wanted to get near her.
Steele chopped his sword down, severing the woman’s head. The blade clanked against the concrete when it sliced through her flesh. The woman’s head rolled from the embankment, sloshing into the water. The current pushed both of the heads downstream.
Sometimes, after death, a person would transform and reanimate within a matter of minutes. Sometimes it would be hours. It depended on how much of the virus had gotten into their system. A person’s overall genetic makeup also influenced the onset of symptoms. But it was always best to neutralize any threat as soon as possible.
Before Steele could wipe clean his blade, there was more commotion in the tunnel. The greedy woman had fully turned and was going after someone. Steele spun around to see her grab Chloe. The woman’s teeth flashed. She snarled and plunged her incisors towards Chloe’s delicate flesh.
Steele was too far away. He’d never make it in time. His heart raced. He launched toward Chloe. Her devastating scream pierced his ears. The others were darting away to safety. Steele watched in a surreal slow motion as the woman’s craggy teeth sank closer.
CRACK!
The greedy woman’s head split open, spraying blood. Her teeth were millimeters away from Chloe’s neck. The woman’s body splashed in the water and slowly floated away.
Smoke wafted from the barrel of Parker’s assault rifle.
Steele rushed to Chloe and looked her over. The woman’s blood spe
ckled her face. “Did you get bit?”
Chloe shook her head, trembling.
“Did you get any blood in your eye?”
“I don’t think so,” she stammered.
Steele wiped the blood from her face with his sleeve. Then he picked her up and gave her a hug. She clung to him, terrified. He could feel her shaking. “I thought you didn’t get scared?”
“Who’s scared? I ain’t scared.”
Steele smiled at her. Then he nodded a thank you to Parker. It was a gutsy shot to take. A few inches to the left and the results could have been disastrous.
“Let’s move out,” Steele commanded.
The weary crowd staggered to their feet and followed along. They were still several miles away from the containment wall. From there, it was perhaps another mile to safely clear the perimeter of the base. Steele wasn’t entirely sure what he’d do when they reached their destination. He needed to sneak Xavier into a med-pod. But he couldn’t hide nearly 40 refugees on base. He certainly wasn’t going to let Chloe out of his sight. But how was he going to explain her to the colonel?
He had visions of going AWOL and living the rest of his life like a king on a tropical island. With the titrillium, he could afford to buy any island he wanted. He didn’t think he was important enough for the Army to come looking for him. Plus, he only had six weeks left on his contract—maybe he could talk his way out of it. Maybe he could buy his way out of it, he thought.
The group marched another mile, wading through the murky water. Tributaries fed into the mainline, pouring in thousands of gallons every minute. By now, the water in the mainline was almost waste deep. Too deep for Chloe to walk on her own. Steele carried her.
He noticed they were near an access point. Steele saw the metal rungs embedded in the concrete that led up to a manhole. Steele motioned for Parker to catch up with him. She was several paces back. He stopped and waited for her while the others kept slogging along.
“The water is getting higher,” Steele said.
“I noticed,” said Parker.
“This is a gravity drain. It has got a slope of .5 percent. That keeps the water feeding to the outfall. The water was calf deep when we started.”
“I’m not a civil engineer, Steele. What does all that mean?”
“I think they sealed the tunnel.”
Parker looked devastated. Her shoulders sank.
Steele handed Chloe to Parker. She wrapped her arms around Parker’s neck. Steele climbed up the rungs and pushed aside the manhole cover. He poked his head out into the street. Rain was pouring down. It had been raining almost non-stop for the last several days and the ground was fully saturated. Flash flooding was entirely possible. Water was pooling on the sides of the street, not able to drain fast enough. The feeder pipes were rocketing out water at maximum capacity.
Steele lowered himself back down into the mainline. He waded through the water back over to Parker and Chloe. The wake was now cresting over his navel. In the last few minutes, the water had risen five inches.
Delroy, who was leading up the rear, had caught up with them.
“I don’t think we can get out this way,” Steele said. “If we get caught in a flash flood down here, people are going to die,”
“How are we going to get out then?” Parker asked.
Steele shrugged. “Let’s get these people topside.”
The water had risen a foot by the time everyone was evacuated from the mainline tunnel. The sky was dark and angry, and rain pelted down. The street was flooding, not able to drain fast enough. Bolts of lightning flashed in the darkness.
They had emerged in the middle of a suburban street. Steele kicked in the door of one of the homes. He and Parker cleared the house, room by room while Delroy kept watch outside. Then the refugees filed in, taking cover from the storm.
Steele reached into a pocket and pulled out the news reporter’s business card. An encrypted, mobile communication’s card that was a direct link to Cassy.
“Z-SOC is going to pickup the communication as soon as you dial that card,” Parker said.
“It’s supposedly encrypted.”
“What if Z-SOC can break it?”
“Hopefully by the time it takes them to break it we’re out of this place.”
The card was a translucent touchscreen, about the size of a credit card, and slightly thicker. Steele pressed the call button. The screen displayed a rotating icon that read: connecting to network. A few moments later, Cassy appeared on the screen. She looked tousled—Steele had woken her out of a deep sleep.
“Miss me already?” Cassy said.
Steele smirked. “You still want that story?”
Cassy’s sleepy eyes perked up. “The refugees?”
“I’m in the zone. I’ve got forty of them with me. But I need a way out.”
“How do you expect me to get you out when I can’t even get in?”
“Find Lieutenant Chase Kilgore.”
“Shit, really?” Parker gasped. “Kilgore won’t do you any favors.”
Steele frowned at her.
“She’s right,” Cassy said. “I’ve been trying to get Kilgore to take me into the zone for weeks. He’s more by the books than you.”
“Tell him there’s $40 million in it for him.”
Cassy’s jaw dropped. “$40 million? Who’s got that kind of cash?”
Steele pulled a bar of titrillium from his pack and held it up to the screen.
“Is that what I think it is?”
Steele nodded.
“How much of that do you have?” Cassy’s eyes sparkled.
“Enough,” Steele said. “Go get Kilgore. If he gives you any flack, tell him I’ll send his wife those rather compromising pictures I have of him.”
Cassy looked perplexed.
CHAPTER 31
“YOU MUST HAVE good dirt on Kilgore?” Parker said.
“You have no idea,” said Steele.
Parker was waiting for an answer. She seemed a little frustrated when it didn’t come. “Well, spill the beans?”
The black night sky was beginning to turn grey. The rain was still coming down in sheets. The distinct rumble of a CAV rippled through the air. It was flying nap-of-the-earth—extremely low altitude to avoid radar detection. The old-school pilots called it hedge-hopping. And that’s exactly what Kilgore was doing. He was following the terrain so closely, the CAV would clip a tree top every so often. It dodged over, or around, buildings and topographic features. Even if the CAV did show up on radar, it would only appear as a blip for a millisecond every now and then. And the radar operators wouldn’t be watching that closely.
Z-SOC had a satellite in geosynchronous orbit over the containment zone. On a clear day, it provided them with excellent realtime imaging and tracking capabilities. The automated system could pick up movement of people or vehicles, then identify and track them. But the system was useless during inclement weather. Steele had caught a lucky break with the storm. It provided the perfect cover.
“Let’s just say Kilgore and a cadet expressed their feelings for each other in the shower one day,” Steele said.
“And you’ve got pictures?” Parker asked.
“No,” Steele said. “But he thinks I do.”
Parker smiled. “I grow more impressed with you by the minute.”
Steele’s muscles were starting to cramp and seize. He was twitching and fighting the pain. His hands were shaking like a bad alcoholic in dire need of a drink.
Kilgore's CAV landed in the middle of the street. The hydraulics engaged and the back ramp dropped down. Steele and Parker rushed out to the vehicle. By the time they got there, Cassy, and her cameraman, were descending down the ramp.
“Where’s my story,” Cassy said with a smile. Her cameraman, Liam, followed behind.
“In the house,” Steele said, pointing back to the structure.
“You look like shit, Steele. And that’s hard for you to do,” Cassy said with a smirk.
; “You got something for me?” Steele asked.
Cassy handed him a pill bottle of Neuromodix. “We’ve really gotta get you off that stuff.”
Steele agreed and gulped down the pills. In a few moments, the pain would subside, and his spasms would cease.
Cassy dashed in front of the camera and started her countdown. “In three, two, one… Cassy Williams, KXNAC news, reporting to you live from within the containment zone. Inside this house is unequivocal proof that there are survivors within the quarantine zone.” She ascended the walkway to the house, continuing her monologue.
“That woman does not screw around, does she?” Parker said.
Steele grinned. “Make sure she doesn’t get eaten. We need her and that live feed of hers.”
Parker didn’t seem too thrilled about babysitting a reporter. Especially one that got on her nerves. She may also have been slightly jealous. But Cassy was their ticket out.
Kilgore was standing at the top of the ramp, waiting for Steele. He was flanked by two soldiers—each with their weapons drawn. Kilgore wasn’t screwing around either. “Let’s get this straight, Steele. I require payment upfront.”
Steele reached into his pack and pulled out a bar of titrillium. He threw it to Kilgore. It slammed against the metal ramp at the Lieutenant’s feet.
“That’s a good start,” Kilgore said. “But how am I supposed to split this between my men?”
Steele’s eyes narrowed.
“We each get a bar,” Kilgore said.
“That was not the deal.”
“Well, looks like I’ll be taking off now.”
Steele gritted his teeth and sighed. “Fine.” He dug into his pack and threw out two more bars.
Kilgore knelt down and picked one up. He examined it carefully. Like most people who held a bar of titrillium, the sensation was intoxicating. His eyes sparkled with greed and fantasies of wealth. “It seems you have yourself a ride,” Kilgore said. “But I can only take twenty.”
Steele’s face tightened. “I’ve got almost 40 that need to get out.”