The Black: Outbreak

by Paul E. Cooley

  “All right, men,” she said in a low voice. “Alpha. Beta. I want you patrolling the maternity ward. Check the rooms. Do not split up. I want all four of you together and all four of you coming back in one piece. Understood?” The men said nothing, but nodded in reply. “Charlie.” Schneck and Epp both raised their eyebrows. “You’re coming with me to the nursery.” The two men nodded in unison. “No hotdogging, Givens. I’m serious.”

  “Yes, Boss,” he drawled.

  “Go.”

  Givens and Perkins began jogging at a fast pace down the hallway, Kilfoil and Bradfisch right behind them. Celianne watched them disappear and then turned in the direction of the nursery. “Move.”

  “Babies,” Schneck said. “If those goddamned things can hear, those little bundles of joy might as well be ringing the dinner bell.”

  “Fuckin’ A,” Epp said.

  “Shut it,” she growled. “Let’s move.”

  They jogged down the hall, Epp taking lead with Schneck covering the rear. Sarah’s heart beat was steady and slow, but that didn’t mean the jitters weren’t rattling her insides. Too many massive adrenaline dumps in the past few hours had left her shaky. And the image of O’Malley disappearing into that thing’s mouth kept floating into her mind. She hadn’t lost a soldier since her last tour and she did now what she’d done then—pushed it away. Except for the rage. That was something she could use. When the adrenal glands were too tired to help, when there were no endorphins to get her ass moving, the anger was enough to keep her going.

  They followed the signs and came to a hallway. Epp held up his hand and slowed to a stop. Sarah and Schneck followed suit. Epp flattened himself against the wall and then peered around the corner. Sarah watched his body language. Unlike Givens and Perkins, the rest of the SWAT team hadn’t mastered self-control when it came to reacting to unexpected situations. But he didn’t flinch. Instead, his body seemed to relax.

  He turned around and faced her. “Got a civvie in the hallway, Boss. Think you should deal with this.”

  She pointed her weapon at the ground and then moved until she had a sightline into the hall. A woman stood staring into the nursery. Her loose, blue, terry-cloth robe was gathered in folds around her no longer plump middle. The peaceful, proud, and loving look on her face would have been heart-stopping if not for the creeping, tingling feeling running up Sarah’s back. Down the hallway, something was moving. And whatever it was, it sure as hell wasn’t human.

  “Hey,” Sarah said quietly. The woman flinched and then turned to face her. When her eyes focused on Sarah’s body armor and rifle, her mouth opened and she stumbled back a step. Sarah shook her head. “No, dear. Come here. Please.” The woman took another step back. “Don’t!”

  She didn’t listen. The woman turned and ran. And then the thing down the hallway noticed her. Sarah watched in horror as the creature scuttled on multi-jointed legs down the hall. It was faster than she imagined possible. The only saving grace was the fact it was smaller than the one that ate O’Malley, but considering they didn’t have any goddamned weapons, that was cold comfort.

  Her adrenaline glands emptied the last of their load leaving her veins thrumming with energy. She ran without thinking. She had to get her hands on the woman, drag her back away from that thing. But before she got more than a few steps, the woman saw the creature. She skidded as she tried to stop, her left slipper flying off her foot and down the hall. Then she slipped and hit the floor face-first.

  “Cover!” Sarah yelled. It scuttled toward the woman, its talons clicking on the tile. She leaned down, grabbed one of the woman’s legs, and pulled backward as fast and hard as she could. Epp appeared next to her and grabbed the other leg. A smear of blood stained the tile as they dragged her backward. Sarah didn’t have time to wonder about that before Schneck’s rifle opened up.

  In the hall’s close space, the sound was deafening. Instead of firing full auto, Schneck fired in two short bursts. She was too busy trying to drag the woman around the corner to see if his attack had been successful. But she wasn’t going to assume.

  “Take her, Boss,” Epp yelled. He dropped the woman’s leg and raised his rifle.

  Sarah didn’t argue. She continued dragging and fought the urge to look up when Epp’s rifle joined the chorus. Finally, blessedly, she reached the corner and flung the woman around and out of harm’s way.

  She peered back into the hallway, sweat dripping down her face. The creature in the hall had slowed, but it was still coming. Team Charlie had switched to single-shot mode. Each time the creature took a step, one of the men fired at its legs. The hard shell detonated beneath the metal round and disintegrated. It immediately grew another limb, but at least it was slowing down.

  “Covering!” she yelled, flipped the selector into single-shot mode, and pointed down the hallway. While she took up the duties of breaking off the legs, Epp and Schneck dumped their mags and reloaded.

  “Boss! Alpha! What the hell is going on?”

  She didn’t bother trying to talk over the sound of her rifle spitting steel-jacketed rounds into the thing still trying to walk. It finally crashed into the floor, its five legs nothing more than nubs. A pair of eyestalks stared at her with insectile disinterest. She aimed higher and pulled the trigger. The pitch-black orb atop one of the stalks disappeared.

  Even through the ringing in her ears, she heard the crunching and crackling of the creature pulling the eyestalk back into itself. The shape then started to melt.

  “The fuck?” Epp asked, his rifle dropping slightly.

  The creature was nothing more than a jet-black puddle in the middle of the floor. Sarah realized she was huffing and out of breath. Epp and Schneck weren’t in much better shape. “Schneck. Check on the civvie,” she said, barely able to hear her own words.

  Somehow, he heard and jogged past them and around the corner. Epp kept the barrel of his rifle pointed at the thing in the hallway. “Boss? What do—”

  “Boss!” Perkins’ voice shrieked over the radio. “Are you there? Over.”

  She tapped her mic and tried to get her breathing under control. “Celianne here. We are outside the main nursery. One civilian casualty and one hostile in the hallway. We have it stopped for the moment. Status? Over.”

  Pause. “Boss. We have a serious problem. We got a big one. It’s smashed through several patient rooms and might be headed your way. Over.”

  “Schneck,” she shouted. “What’s her status?” Like Epp, her rifle was pointed at the thing in the hall, her right eye sighted down the barrel.

  “No go, Boss. I think she fractured her skull.”

  Sarah felt something give inside her heart. They were here to save lives. That new mother had died, not because of an assailant, but because she’d been afraid of those willing to lay down their lives to protect her. The image of O’Malley being dissolved by that thing bounced in her mind again. She shook off the wave of depression and her stomach burned as rage replaced it. She tapped her mic. “New strategy, boys. Shoot the legs. Shoot the tentacles. Keep to single fire if possible. And make sure your team knows what you’re shooting at.”

  “Boss,” the men replied through the radio. Even Epp and Schneck murmured their acknowledgment.

  “Alpha. Do you have eyes on that hostile?”

  “Negative, Boss.”

  “Well, find the goddamned thing!”

  “Boss!”

  She clicked off her mic. “Schneck. Get over there and take a look in the nursery. We’ve got you covered.”

  “Yes, Boss,” he said after a second.

  Despite his terror, Schneck would do his job. She knew that. But the slight pause before his response told her just how scared the man was. Later. She could deal with all of that later. Right now, she had to stay focused on the pool of black, and she had to find a way to keep her men from freezing up.

  Lithe as a prowling cat, Schneck walked past her and Epp, his rifle pointed at the floor. When he reached the glass wall, he turned
slightly and peered in. Through her peripheral vision, she watched his body language. She half expected him to go rigid, pull up his rifle, and start firing through the glass at some creature that—

  “Clear,” Schneck said. He stepped backward and focused his gaze on the pool of liquid.

  Sarah exhaled. She didn’t realize she’d been holding her breath. “Just babies?”

  “Yeah, Boss. Just babies. And a nurse.” Schneck’s pale face slowly flushed back with color. “I didn’t see any strong lights in there.”

  “Goddammit,” Epp said.

  “Okay,” Sarah said. She didn’t want to say what she was about to say. She’d told Alpha and Beta not to split up, and here she was getting ready to do just that. “Schneck. I want you to find the high-risk nursery. You come across a nurse or a doctor, you get them to help you. Come across any civvies, and get them back in their damned rooms. And if you run into trouble, scream.”

  “Not a problem there,” he said. She glanced at him. He was smiling, but his lower lip trembled. “Be right back.” Schneck ran past them and down the adjacent hallway.

  “Well, Boss, what do we do?” Epp asked.

  And that was the problem. Here they stood, rifles pointed at a damned pool of black liquid. It trembled slightly, but remained motionless and silent. The sounds. That was a clue of some sort. When it sizzled, it was eating. When it crackled, it was growing limbs or retracting them, changing shape. The creatures didn’t a make sound unless they were eating or moving. They didn’t growl or roar, and somehow that was worse. If the damned things howled and screamed with rage, they’d at least know where the damned things were. Instead, they had to listen for crackles, sizzles, and the clicks of its talons on tile.

  She tapped her mic. “Moore. You got eyes on either hostile?”

  Pause. “We see the one in the hall near the nursery, Lieutenant. But we have no sign of the other.”

  Sarah rolled her eyes. “My team says they saw its leavings.”

  “I’m sure,” Moore said dryly. “We see signs of it, sure, but we don’t know where it is.”

  “Great.” Sarah clicked off the mic.

  She caught movement out of the corner of her eye and refocused on the hallway. The black sludge was moving. Instead of heading toward them or even away from them, it slid laterally to the base of the wall with the glass window. The liquid touched the bottom of the wall. Paint and sheetrock sizzled as the thing consumed the matter. It seemed to grow before their eyes.

  “Boss?”

  “I see it,” she said. Epp sounded terrified, but his rifle didn’t waver. Hell, she was scared too, but as long as she was in charge, she couldn’t let the men know. “If that thing grows legs, shoot them. If it grows another eye, kill that too.”

  “Boss,” Epp breathed in acknowledgment.

  They watched the wall slowly dissolve beneath the creature’s assault. After a few seconds, it hit metal and glass. The liquid paused and then slowly crawled up the glass. A single eyestalk crackled out of its center, the black eye gazing into the nursery. “Fire,” Sarah said.

  Epp squeezed the trigger once. A single hollow point bullet flew from the end of the matte black rifle. The eye vaporized in a spray of coal colored dust. The liquid shivered and then descended back to the floor. It stopped moving and quivering.

  “What is it doing?”

  Good question, she thought. Her nerves were on the verge of collapse. Too much adrenaline, too much stress, too much fear. But all of that departed as she gazed at the creature. What was it doing? Thinking? That idea did make her shiver. But it made sense. The creatures seemed to have rudimentary intelligence for strategy. That made them much more dangerous. It must have sensed food in the nursery. And it was trying to get into the room. She took a step back.

  “Epp. Move back.”

  Eyes still sighting down the rifle, Epp barely breathed. “Why, boss?” He took a step backward just the same.

  “Because it has to go through us to get to the nursery.”

  Epp gulped. “Right.”

  The creature’s surface bubbled slightly and then shook. The crackling of kindling echoed in the hallway. The pool lifted an inch off the floor. Sarah stared in wonder as the pool shuffled to the opposite wall on invisible legs.

  “What the hell?” Epp asked. Then he got his answer.

  The black oil hit the wall and started upward. As it dragged itself, painted sheetrock dissolved beneath it. When it cleared the lower part of the wall, both she and Epp stared at exposed studs, sheetrock screws, and dangling cables. It continued moving up the wall until it reached the ceiling.

  “Trying to get away!” she yelled.

  Epp cursed and fired another round at the thing. The bullet spat from his rifle and slammed into the creature dead center. It didn’t even react.

  “Save your ammo,” she said. “It’s going into the ceiling.”

  As if on cue, the creature blazed up the wall, the sound of its tiny, nearly invisible legs chittering like a typewriter. It reached the ceiling tile and flowed around the metal frame. A heartbeat later, the ceiling tile dropped to the floor, the material smoking. The creature was gone.

  Sarah tapped her mic. “Alpha. Status. Over.”

  Pause. “Boss. We’re still trying to find the creature. What’s your situation? Where are you? Over.”

  “Ours went into the ceiling, Alpha. We’re still outside the nursery. Over.” We’re still outside the nursery. “Oh, fuck,” Sarah whispered.

  “Boss?” Epp asked. He tore his eyes from the hole in the ceiling and turned to face her.

  She barely noticed. Her nerves sizzled and her heart jumped from waltz to death metal. She put her arm on Epp’s. “The nursery. It’s going into the nursery!”

  Epp cocked his head. A second later, his eyes widened. He turned and ran to the middle of the glass wall separating the hallway from the room beyond. Sarah followed.

  She stared into the room. Twenty cribs with twenty crying or sleeping infants. A nurse sat in the corner of the room, a bundle of blankets in her arms. A ceiling tile dropped down and hit the floor right in front of the nurse. The woman looked up at the ceiling.

  “Run!” Sarah screamed to Epp. She pelted down the hallway until she met the next one. She flicked her eyes at the signs without slowing down. An arrow pointed for “Nurse’s Station” which had to be the entrance to the nursery. Just had to be.

  Chapter 44

  Ken Sermon finished the last report. He’d been working on them since 9 p.m. the previous evening. Interrupted by half a dozen X-rays on ICU patients, it had taken forever to get through them. But come morning shift, the doctors would have their information, the nurses would be off his ass, and his boss would be happy. That was the kind of Saturday he wanted. The kind where he could kick off his shoes, nap on the couch, and have a beer or two during the college football orgy on the sports channels. All of that without a call from the hospital, let alone a page from some impatient doctor.

  He stood up and stretched, mindful of the twinge in his right knee. One asshole named Dr. Mactavish hadn’t done a very good job on the surgery and he’d probably never walk without a limp again. And hey, all that at 45, when he had another 45 to look forward to. Ain’t life a bitch.

  Ken’s stomach growled. He fought the urge to glance at his growing paunch and then looked at the clock. Okay, fine. He hadn’t eaten in seven hours. It was time for a break. His replacement wasn’t coming anyway. The weather was just too nasty for many of the staff to even get to the hospital. So he was on shift until someone relieved him.

  He shuffled into his lab coat, made sure he had his wallet, pager, and cell phone, and headed out of the X-Ray room. The hallway beyond was brightly lit and hurt his eyes. Although some of his co-workers preferred to work beneath glaring fluorescent lights, Ken preferred the darkness. Truth be told, it was easier on his eyes. But the bright hallways always got him after a stint in his dim workspace. He blinked and waited for the retinal afterimage to
pass.

  There was no one in the breakroom. That didn’t surprise him. At this hour of the morning, nurses were making their rounds along with the doctors. The surgical floor below was probably empty as well. No one scheduled a goddamned non-emergency procedure for 0200. That shit usually started around 0500 or so. And with the weather, he imagined several of today’s surgeries would be canceled anyway. If the patient or the doctor couldn’t get to the hospital, having enough staff on site was hardly the greatest problem.

  He headed to the coffee machine, slotted a fresh pod, and placed his cup below. The machine warmed up with the hiss and spit of boiling water. Ken yawned and then faced the half-open door to the hallway. He caught a glimpse of something, just the hint of movement. But when he focused on the hallway through the slit, it was gone. He frowned.

  Liquid dribbled from the pot and into the cup. Ken shrugged and turned to watch the dark coffee stream into the ceramic container. The words “I SEE BONES!” appeared on the side of the mug as the surface heated. They slowly grew darker, more distinct, as the mug warmed and the normally black mug turned white. When the machine finished, he tossed in a sugar pack and a single creamer, stirred the concoction, took an experimental tongue-burning sip, and then turned to leave the breakroom.

  His stomach growled again. Sighing, he walked to the snack bucket, pulled out a package of ridiculously unhealthy sticky buns, dropped them in the lab coat pocket, and then resumed his exit plan. Upon reaching the half-closed door, he carefully stood to the side in case one of the other staff came barreling in, and then opened it wide.

  He raised a foot to take a step and then stopped. The tile glowed as if brand new. Frowning, Ken looked down the hall. A wide swath of the floor gleamed in either direction. Ken looked at his watch in confusion. No, he hadn’t fallen asleep in the break room. He’d been gone from his station for less than five minutes and he hadn’t heard the custodial staff running the buffer. So how the hell was the floor so shiny? And why just the middle area?