by Thomas Key
“The subject seems to be in a comatose state. Serum 128 shows great promise as it has continuously kept an otherwise immune individual in somewhat of a stalemate. The body can be described as near-death, but whether the virus is not strong enough to take full control, or the host is strong enough to hold off the infection is yet to be determined. Further experimentation required,” it said. Another note was written on the lower right-hand side of the chart. “Increase dosage request approved,” with a date scribbled under it. Yesterday. The dosage was increased just one day ago. Rachel held her hand to her mouth, feeling the guilt and the pain returning, only to have it turn to an insane amount of worry. He was still alive, and he was here. She retrieved her radio and spoke quickly. “All personnel please be on the lookout for a Caucasian male, 6’1, brown eyes, a short beard and brown hair. Individual is a member of Cannon AFB and has been kept here as a prisoner,” she finished. She turned to the two others in the room, and went to leave in a hurry. She stopped as her eyes, once again, came across the machine next to the bed. She re-entered the room, and removed the canister from the machine, placing it snugly into her utility backpack. She nodded to the two and they left. They entered the next unlocked door and came to the room on the other side of the mirror. There, what was left of a corpse of a woman lay shredded on the bare tile floor. The only reason they knew it was a woman was by the full head of hair left behind on top of the pile of leftover meat and tendons and shining white bone. “Jesus H Christ,” one of the soldiers with her said as he immediately turned to his right and puked, adding that smell to the smell of the canned woman. That thought almost sent Rachel over the edge too. She looked down, and traced the floor with her flashlight. Sure enough, footprints led from the pile, out the door and into the hall. She followed the steps and sure as shit realized that she had missed the footprints on their way through the hall. The prints eventually faded into another staircase leading down. Two other teams had been instructed to move on ahead of them downwards. As Rachel once again neared the stairs, gunshots were prevalent from down the steps. Maybe it was curiosity, bravado, or something else, but she continued down, the rifle shots getting louder with each step. As she neared the next floor, they were met by the backs of both squads, firing into a hallway with signs showing a conference room and offices. Dozens of infected, some no doubt having been previously tenants of the facility here, still in the black fatigues or lab coats and even a secretary or two. Seeing an infected trying to walk in high heels would have been absolutely hilarious to Rachel had the radio not caught her attention. “We found him,” someone said. She stopped in her tracks. With the screams of men and women around her, the rounds flying and the smell of gunpowder in the hair, she stood stock-still. She reached for her radio and spoke. “Is he okay?!” she almost yelled in the heat of the moment. It was Jaylin who replied her. “I’m sorry. He’s gone.” Rachel heard the woman, her friend say back to her in the softest voice she had ever heard her use. Her entire world came crashing down around her. She slowly slid her back along the right wall, the people ahead of her still trying to push forward. The two soldiers that had previously been with her moved up to help, adding their own fire to the line. Rachel though, was lost. “Are you sure?” she almost whispered into the radio. “See for yourself,” Jaylin said.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Jaylin and Isabel had continued on with Elmsley and others, fighting their way forward in the infected facility. The hope of completely clearing it seemed to be more and more a farfetched idea. They were sending hundreds of rounds towards infected that seemed to crawl in and out of crevices like cockroaches on the kitchen floor when the light gets turned on. These infected were stubborn and sneaky with several soldiers meeting their untimely demise by walking by supposedly cleared rooms only to be dragged into the waiting mouth of yet another infected. Oddly, there were very few undead zombies. Almost all of the infected encountered were of the fresh and fast variety. It didn’t really matter to either of the women though, they had a job to do and that job was to destroy all of them with absolutely no fucks given. They reached a laboratory of some kind, with medical equipment shoved into every possible inch with only enough room for two people to walk side by side along the entire room. Isabel fired again as two runners leapt up from below a table and headed straight for them. The first one caught the brunt of the ammunition as the three round burst nearly split it in half. The second one landed on the floor in front of the two women, and proceeded to smash headlong into the two. Both women went sprawling, and even Elmsley who had been not far behind was taken aback. She raised her own weapon to fire, but she couldn’t risk it without hitting the two women. The infected woman with greying hair, in a business suit reached the other side of the two, snarled as it looked back at them before attempting to continue forward and up the stairs, it was heading right for Elmsley. She had a clear shot and she took it. She dispatched it with two quick semi-automatic shots. The thing went down just inches away from her black steel toed boots. Jaylin helped Isabel up, looking back at Elmsly. “It was trying to run away,” Isabel said aloud. Jaylin nodded gravely. “That’s not a good sign at all.” Elmsly nodded as she fired another round into the head at point blank range just to make sure they’d have no further issues with that one. “Let’s move,” Elmsley said as she took point. They continued through the tight confines of the laboratory, checking under each table slowly and methodically. A room at the end of the lab had a door ajar, and as Elmsley stopped to read over a clipboard on a table to the right, Jaylin peered in curiously. The door had a glass window inserted in the high center of it, and in the middle of the room, with a syringe in hand, stood Shepherd. Beside him stood an infected who seemed intrigued by his every move. Jaylin and Isabel rifles both rose up to meet the threat. Both figures turned to stare at them. Jaylin took it all in. On a table were over a dozen vials of black liquid, each one labeled with a different serial number. The one in Shepherds hand, read Serum 129 with a skull and bones warning attached. The women watched as neither of the figures made a move towards them. Shepherd had turned towards them, but his flat eyes stared blankly at them. His shirt was stained with fresh and old blood, with his mouth still red from the previous feedings. His hands had not stopped moving though as he plunged the needle into a blackened vein in his arm. He pushed the plunger forward, the liquid quickly entering his body. He let out a groan and his eyes rolled back into his head. After a moment, he dropped the syringe and his eyes came back to focus on the two women. The two women watched in horror as it all unfolded. Elmsley had apparently finished her reading and entered, trying to see what the two were staring at. Within a heartbeat, she pulled her rifle up and fired. Shepherd moved unnaturally quick to his right, ducking behind a table and the infected that had been at his side went for the three women. Jaylin pulled the door closed just as the gnashing teeth of the infected hit the window to the room. She locked the door from the outside and watched in disgust as the infected tried to force its way out, bashing its hands and its head against the glass. The door held firm. After a minute of attempting, it backed away slowly. Shepherd stood back up and walked to the door. Calmly trying the door handle, and finding it locked, he peered back at the two with grey, unforgiving eyes. It watched them for another few moments before turning back and continuing with what he had been doing before they arrived. A suitcase stood on the floor near the table. The man creature slowly took each vial and placed them each delicately into the padded suitcase as the women watched in amazement. “What the fuck was that?” Elmsley asked the two women, fear evident in her voice. “That was Shepherd.”
Rachel made her way to the lab, the firefight still raging behind her. The troops were holding their own but were suffering losses that they could ill afford. If things did not improve, they’d be forced to pull out. Intel or not and captives or not, it was not worth the loss of life during an apocalypse. She walked along the darkened hallway, stepping over the first infected without a single glance. She stepped over
the second with ease as well. The reality of the situation did not fully reveal itself until she found the three women still huddled around the door. Rachel approached, which startled all three of them as they all went for their weapons. She held out her hands as she approached and they let the weapons fall back into their slings. Jaylin ran to Rachel and hugged her tightly, whispering an “I’m so sorry.” As she did. Rachel pushed her aside, the adrenaline spiking as she came to the door. Inside, she saw Shep. Her lover, her friend, mentor and fiancé. His back was to them and the infected inside with him stood watching the women through the glass. It made some kind of a noise that seemed to draw the attention of Shepherd. His head tilted and he slowly turned to the window... Her eyes traced his shirt, seeing the blood and the gore that had seeped into it. She thought she even saw a human ear holding onto the shirt by some mythical means. They moved up to the blood-covered neck and beard. The same beard she would stroke lovingly as they laid in bed and spoke for hours. The one that would tickle her as he’d come behind her and kiss her neck, always causing her to giggle and get goosebumps. The lips she’d kissed a million times, the nose and then, the eyes. The eyes. The brown, caring eyes of her love was gone, replaced by black pupils surrounded by a sea of grey. The eyes were focused on her, she knew, as was hers on his. It was her worst fear come true. It was at that moment that Rachel lost her mind.
The evacuation from the base was a blur, she registered the sailor Jewel giving commands from his radio. “Eagles nest, this is Eaglet One. Facility is compromised. Requesting immediate firing of the base.” She was no longer cognizant of the world around her. She felt hands heft her up, and felt herself moving. “Eaglet One, this is Eagles Nest, fire mission approved. Hammer of the Gods is en route. ETA 2 hours.” She heard as she felt the up and down of being carried up steep steps. Voices around her gave warning that infected were filling in behind them, and were also attempting to bar their escape from the base. The infected below continued pushing the troops up the stairwells. Precious minutes ticked by as the soldiers rained hell downwards towards the creatures below but for every one that went down, it seemed like two took their places. Eventually, they punched through the infected at the top and she felt her head hit the doorway of the guard post as she was carried out. Her body limp with uncaring. Rachel was deposited inside of a waiting black hawk as the rest of the crew filed in around her. Around her, other squads were being picked up and helicopters were lit up like Christmas trees. “Eagles nest to Eaglet One. Danger close expected in five minutes,” the radio squawked. “Acknowledged,” Jewel said as their helicopter rose slowly into the air. The infected fanned out of the door below and tried to latch on to any helicopter remaining. Two soldiers were pulled out of black hawks still attempting to gain altitude and were dog-piled on by a dozen infected. They rose and she moved her head involuntarily. The helicopter continued to rise and her eyes fell to the door of the facility. There, two figures stood just outside of the door, silhouetted by the lights of the hallway behind. The two figures stared onwards, watching the helicopters above. Rachel's eyes narrowed as she tried to focus on the two. The dawn of realization reached her, a moment before the first cruise missile impacted the ground behind the door. It was Shepherd, holding the black briefcase. He was loose. How did he… Her thoughts were cut off as a series of missiles landed around them, and the black hawks continued to bank away from the hellfire. Smoke from the explosions filled the area and she lost sight just as another one landed dead center on where she guessed the door of the base was below. The light from the hallway was erased as steel and Infected bodies were flung in every direction, some of them on fire as they lit up the night like macabre streamers. Three more explosions rocked the blast area as the black hawks moved away in the direction of Cannon AFB, to return victorious in the survivors’ minds. All of them except Rachel’s, Ken’s, Isabel’s, and Jaylin’s. To them, they lost something worth far more than a victory. They lost their friend that they’d never get back. Or would they?
Epilogue
Not thirty minutes before the arrival of the Cannon AFB raiding party, a small convoy of three vehicles drove away from the facility. The Praetor sat in the rear of a black bulletproof limousine, with a comfortable leather interior and a full bar. With their running lights off, and heading in the opposite direction of the incoming team, they would be spared the bullets no doubt meant for them. He did not escape without harm, however. A head wound had dried blood just below his hair line on his face. The result of an unfortunate encounter with the one that caused this mess. We should have just put a bullet in him, he thought as he carefully poured himself a mixed drink, heavy in liquor and just enough juice to add a touch of flavor, and downed it quickly. The SUVs behind and in front of his limo keeping the pace moving at high speed. The jostling of the limo back and forth on the dirt-covered road was frustrating as he spilled his drink repeatedly before finishing it off and making a second. No matter, he thought, they have all of the data that they need. It was just a matter of getting it into the right hands. Even with the loss of his flagship compound, it was not his only route. He’d be back, and he’d wipe Cannon AFB from the face of the earth and one way or another, he’d claim his rightful place as the leader of the world. It was just a matter of time, as the convoy turned eastward, toward a new destination. As he watched the outline of the small concrete structure above the compound fade from view, the Praetor smiled.