Apocalyptic Beginnings Box Set

by M. D. Massey

  The steam hisses and vents hard, nearly covering up the sounds of something stirring from the way I came. It ceases and I’m off, quickly crawling past the blast point and snaking my way down to the next junction. I hit the corner and back into the black abyss, training my ears and poking my head out just far enough to spot a disfigured skull looking in the direction I came from. The steam distorts my view some, making it look much more hideous and vulgar within my green tint. It looks around, mouth ajar and its flesh deprived nose trained in the air. Its left hand is mutated fully, elongated fingers gripping the pipes while its right slender spike arm waves aimlessly from side to side. I’m not sure if it’s picking up my scent or that of the dead body lying between us.

  It peers in my general direction, past the steam and dead body and holds its gaze, not flinching or twitching a single muscle. It looks and feels as though it has spotted me somehow, but it’s not shrilling and scampering down the pipes in a feeding frenzy.

  I ready myself for a quick getaway down the tight space, every fiber teaming with a surge of annoyance and adrenaline. I think I can shoot forward and get to the other side without it noticing me, but taking that chance when I don’t really need to would be foolish and outright stupid at this point.

  Christ, crap or get off the pot already! I don’t have all day!

  After about five minutes of this thing acting like it’s got a clue, I teeter on the edge of opening my mouth and telling it to come on, to quit toying with me and come my way if it wants to play. But before my rough and dried lips can crack apart and speak, its head twists around like that of a blood hound in the marsh. It lets out a short, high-pitched shrill that bounces off the pipes. I blink my eyes and find that it’s gone. It probably found a better prospect to explore than this. Whatever grabbed its attention, I’ll take it.

  15

  I dart past the opening, not wanting to take any chances, and continue my way through the maze of pipes that curve and turn through the black void that is highlighted by the green hue. My nuts have seen better days, being squished and probed by the many rigid points within the pipes. It doesn’t really bother me all that much though, which scares me a little. I’m not sure if the twig and berries have lost all life as well.

  I make the last corner and find my exit just ahead, silent as a normal graveyard. A single dim light shines through the grate, splitting it into multiple beams that illuminate my face. I slow my pace some, trying to reduce any noise that could alert anyone or anything roaming around below. Man, this pack is getting on my nerves.

  I creep up to the grate, low to the metal beneath me, and peer out through the narrow slits into the expansive, but cramped, bay. It looks like the backup lights have kicked in and the main power is out here as well. Not sure how long the lights have been burning. I could poke out a single toe and shit could go dark.

  I get my face as close as I can and scan over the mounds of crates and boxes spread all over, trying to get a feel for what I might be stepping into.

  I instantly spot multiple thin beams of light tracing up and down the crates or whatever the hell they are. I count roughly a half dozen men, armed with automatic weapons and dressed similarly to the dead TGP soldiers I encountered earlier. Not sure if they’re looking for something or just making the rounds, checking that nothing, dead or otherwise, has slipped in through the cracks.

  From what I can tell, I’m not too far from the ground and this grate in front of me is rusted pretty badly all around—the dark reddish color eating away at the metal’s body. I grab the jagged slits, not concerned that tetanus is probably breeding within the dying metal, and push out. With little resistance, the grate gives and I reel it back in, laying it next to me. I worm my way up slowly to the opening and cautiously stick my head out, my black eyes getting a much better lay of the land. The coast is all clear around me and below, the darkness swallowing the nook below me and blinding any eyes from penetrating through its veil.

  I glance above me and find a lip of sorts within the structure that might allow me to pull myself up and let me land on my feet. I crawl out of the opening a little more and torque my frame in a way that both of my hands grab the edge, my upper body dangling in the air. I have maybe an inch to an inch and a half of space to hold on to. It’s not much but I’ll make do.

  Gripping the ledge as best I can, and with gravity shoving me down like it’s got a grudge, I pull myself completely out and fall to the concrete below. The landing is less than perfect and my boots hitting the ground makes more noise than I would like. I pause and hold tight, crouched and ready to strike as I wait to see if I’ve got any curious visitors that might have heard the commotion. My ears pick up nothing and no beams of light dance my direction.

  I remove my knife from its sheath and grip it in my right hand, blade turned backwards and the serrated edge pointing to the ground. I’ve got the Glock and shotgun poised and ready to do some damage if need be, but want to keep things as quiet and personal as possible.

  Cloaked in darkness, the green hue illuminating the oddly shaped containers, I move towards the edge and stop. Calm, cool, and mostly collected, I cautiously twist my head out and find a guard walking my way, a sharp light from his gun mounted flashlight crawling across the container and nearly bringing my less than human face to life.

  I instantly pull my head back in and ready my blade, muscles teaming with adrenaline and my ears trained to his every footstep as he approaches his final moments of life. The beam of light is getting tighter and the jingling of his uniform signals his position. The barrel of his machine gun breaks the corner first and passes on by, his unsuspecting mind not bothering to check down this way.

  Big mistake.

  Like a coiled snake ready to strike its prey with lethal precision, I reach out and grab him from behind, reeling him into my dark world. Before he can think of popping off a round or trying to fight back, I plunge the blade as hard as I can into his chest. The tip easily slices through the padded vest he’s wearing and tears into his flesh, nicking some ribs and digging deep within his insides. The struggling dies off instantly and his body goes limp, becoming dead weight that will hopefully not come back to haunt me, literally.

  Sorry pal, wrong place at the wrong time.

  Removing my blade, I pull his dead body further into the darkness and wipe the green tinted blood onto his gear before grabbing his gun. I turn the flashlight off quickly and toss the weapon over my shoulder. It might come in handy.

  I ready the blade once more and creep towards the edge. Peering out, I find that the coast is clear for now. Zero lights trail along the containers and no footsteps that my sensitive ears can pick up. Quietly making my way to the other side of the warehouse, a dim, yellow light from across the way grabs my attention. It’s emitting from one of the containers and pulsating like a beating heart. I know I shouldn’t deviate from my plan, especially since my mind is becoming that of one of those things, but what can I say, curiosity has me by the balls.

  I move fast and low to the light, my pack doing jumping jacks on my back and the newly acquired machine gun jostling around crazy like. I lean against the adjoining container and slither down the rough and ridged steel, my eyes peeled for anything or anyone. The light seems somehow familiar to me, the piss color staining the steel and blinking like an SOS symbol. I hesitate for a brief second, afraid of what might be added to my fractured memory.

  This light feels familiar to me.

  Come on, do it, Mike. It’s not just about you, it’s about Becky. Getting back to her. If it can help, then get your ass up there and sneak an f’n peek.

  I love my inner motivator sometimes.

  I take a few steps forward, keeping my head low and out of the light, and brace for whatever I see. I stand erect and lift my head into the guiding light, the green hue diminishing and the color, well mostly yellow, coming into focus.

  A half-naked man is within, bound to a thick metal stand that has his wrist and ankles restrained by some hef
ty steel clamps, eyes sealed shut and outfitted in some bright white shorts. Wires galore hang from the ceiling and are feeding into his body all over, fluids of some kind continuously flowing like a river inside of him. He’s definitely alive, well the non-cannibalistic version I think, as he seems to be normal and not showing any physical signs of the change. His breathing is steady, the warmth from his mouth creating smoke within the apparently chilled pod.

  Standing there and peering at the poor bastard, I instantly feel goosebumps roll over me, the cold chill nipping at my nipples and other extremities. The odd sensation of having needles forced into my body and some foreign liquid pumped into my veins. I close my eyes, putting myself in his place. It’s like a bad nightmare that is stuck on repeat, not letting me escape the horror that I think I went through.

  I wish I knew what they were pumping into him.

  What they injected into me.

  I’ve been poked and prodded so many times, there’s no telling what’s cultivating inside me. I feel like a walking petri dish, teaming with all sorts of manmade viruses that spawn ungodly results.

  I open my eyes and find the man staring at me or maybe through me. It startles me, sending me backwards and my heart fleeing like a fucking race horse. He seems lethargic, his eyelids hanging heavy just above his dilated pupils, and a grim look of confusion and outright disorientation filling his ghostly face.

  I move in closer once more, my eyes peering deep into his as if I feel that I know what he is going through being stuck like a damn lab rat with no way of getting out.

  His eyes excitedly explode open all the way. The realization of his current situation must have hit him. The catatonic state he was in is now gone and I can tell he sees me, his eyes screaming for help and his lips trying to split apart. His motionless body comes back to life and thrashes around, jerking his arms and legs in a panic. I wish I could do something for him, but he is unfortunately screwed at the moment.

  The light inside the pod shifts from the piss yellow color to a dark dank red that is followed by a siren and a damn flashing light from atop the steel container.

  “Shut the hell up, and stop moving around, damn it!” I say at the glass, forgetting that this fool can’t hear me. Even if he could, I doubt he would comprehend what I am saying.

  Sorry guy, got to go.

  I turn to the left and head for the corner of the pod when one of those TGP soldiers surprises the shit out of me and trains his machine gun at my head. I throw my hands up and stop cold in my tracks, his gun mounted light glaring in my face.

  “Don’t move!” the solider sternly says, his voice sounding more robotic than human.

  “Let’s take it easy, shall we,” I say calm and cool.

  I hope this asshole doesn’t have a happy trigger finger.

  “Remove the gun from your shoulder and any other weapons you have on your person now!”

  I do as he says and reach for the machine gun over my shoulder. I grab the black strap and start to remove it when I see something scurrying around in the blackness behind him. It’s faint and barely visible as his light chops my vision into ground crap. I train my ears and hear whatever it is breathing deeply, creeping closer along the steel pods outer hull. I doubt it’s friendly and really don’t care to see if it wants to tussle with me.

  I wonder if it wants a snack.

  I see the thing’s face emerge from the blackness, completely deformed and most of its skin shred to shit. Its lips are void and gone, showing overdeveloped gums that have massive knife-like teeth gleaming in what little light there is in here.

  “Um . . . you might want to-”

  “Shut the hell up, and don’t speak again or I’ll-”

  The creature erupts out of the space and grabs the soldier from behind, hopping on his back and driving its teeth straight into the side of his neck. The padding, armor, or whatever they’re wearing might as well be tissue, as it tears right through and hits his neck.

  “Awwwwww,” he yells, his finger clamping down on the trigger and spraying anything and everything.

  Bullets wiz past my body and strike the pods around me. Steam or something vents from the holes as more sirens scream their heads off. I run towards the soldier and kick him hard in the chest, sending both of them reeling backwards into the abyss of blackness. The muffled robotic pleas quickly die off. The sound of the creature ripping through his suit to the meaty goodness within fills my ears.

  I stand there, almost in a trance, watching the thing claw its way to his insides. It’s horrific and something you would see on Discovery or Nat Geo. Every slash of its razor sharp claws brings so much more blood flowing like a river from his body and pooling around both of them.

  I can hear the other soldiers coming, the rapping of their feet and the heft of their suits shifting about as they hurry towards the commotion.

  It pauses and tilts its head to the side, fresh human meat clutched in its paws and shredded flesh jammed between its teeth. Its dead eyes, black as oil, lock onto mine. It’s not acting like it wants to do anything, it’s more like a curious stare.

  “Echo three . . . fox trot, what’s . . . status, over!” I hear the faint, and choppy transmission sound from the dead TGP soldier’s mangled helmet, noticing the swirling and bouncing lights trailing along the floor and containers out of the corner of my eye. I look to the side and see a handful of the soldiers making a mad dash, weapons shouldered and trained straight ahead.

  I look back and find the creature’s head pointed to the ceiling, the dark tinted blood dripping from its chin as it opens its mouth and releases a short burst of shrills that echo inside my skull.

  I don’t speak infected, but the shrill resounds inside my skull, banging around and striking a certain cord once again that makes it feel familiar, natural. I know it’s not good, as it’s signaling or communicating with the others. Ringing the dinner bell and/or signaling for reinforcements.

  It stops and gets back to its meal, digging and tearing without regard for my presence anymore. Immediately, I pick up the faint, but growing, rattling sound coming from the vent I passed through just a little bit ago. Its intensity is fierce and growing near fast, the vibration sounding as if a herd of cattle will come busting through at any moment.

  Time to leave!

  I turn to leave and take a couple of steps to the open space, where my fucked friend is, when I feel something hard and blunt strike me in the arm, knocking me off balance and throwing me against one of the steel pods.

  I hear the soldiers as if they are on top of me, shouting orders to spread out and contain whatever is in the warehouse. Use of lethal force is authorized if need be.

  I pay no mind to the wound and reach behind me, grabbing my Glock with one fluid motion and firing with extreme accuracy. I hit the middle soldier of the group of three barreling right at me right in his visor, stopping his ass cold and crumpling him like a sack of rotten potatoes. At this point, I am clueless how many of the soldier are weaving between the pods.

  So much for getting to the other side unnoticed.

  The other two soldiers break away from their fallen brother and take cover behind the pods, firing a couple of rounds and ducking back. I can hear more chatter and footsteps all over, but can’t place where or how many are exactly converging on me.

  I fire repeatedly, swiveling my good arm from side to side, containing the two soldiers. My Glock clicks empty.

  Shit!

  I eject the worthless clip and reach back with my wounded arm, the pain intense, but my brain overriding the sensation and pushing on with my command. I grab a fresh clip and slap it in, taking aim in the soldiers’ direction. The shrills multiply and a flood of dead bodies explode out of the vent.

  Guess I’m not the biggest threat now.

  The soldiers quickly forget about me and train on the small swarm of mutated dead jumping from the vent and spreading out into the warehouse like a tidal wave of teeth and utter rage.

  Gunfire erupts and sc
reams of agony and being scared shitless fill the air. I can smell the dead and the blood that is being spilled. It fills my nose and churns my stomach. I guess it’s a good thing it doesn’t entice me to partake. At least now, I’m still more human than undead.

  I go the other way, fleeing the madness. I get tripped up and fall face first, turning over onto my back and finding a freshly mutated woman lunging towards me. She’s still somewhat human looking, but her body and face show rapid signs of the change.

  I throw my legs back towards me and cradle her body with my feet, her dark pits for eyes burning a hole through my head while her ravaged fingers reach and strive for me. Spit and other fluids drip from her torn and split lips, grunts and other unnatural noises emitting from her mouth as her legs drive her towards me.

  Not today, bitch!

  I train the Glock right between her black eyes and chamber off a single round, the splat of the bullet cratering a hole in her head and blowing out the back of her skull, melding with the screams and shrills.

  With the woman lifeless once more, I throw her off me and scramble to my feet. I back up to the steel pod of my screwed friend and check the way.

  All clear, so far.

  I close my eyes for a brief second and pull up the maze of pods that seems to be filled with human test subjects. I’m not sure why I’m bothering with trying to outline a path to my exit, as things are completely chaotic now.

  Fuck it!

  I roll out from my cover and keep the Glock trained straight ahead, killing two undead walkers right away as the pinging sound of the soldiers’ bullets ricochet off the steel around me. But I don’t stop. I keep running, darting in and out of the maze like I know where the hell I’m going.