by M. D. Massey
I lay there for a few minutes, trying to regain my composure. I try to open my eyes all the way but can’t. Slightly slit apart, the flames fill my vision along with various white coats and soldiers closing in on me, weapons drawn and the faint sound of chatter filling my ringing ears as I pass out.
So much for sneaking in. Shit.
18
You’re almost there, baby. Hold tight and keep strong. You’re getting so close. Whatever you do, don’t give up. Soon, we’ll be together.
The sound of my Becky is driving me to push through the madness and keep going. Even if it looks like I’m screwed, I put on a smile and hit it head on. There’s too much riding on this to give up now. Unless I’m dead . . . well, let me rephrase. Unless rigor mortis has set in, then I keep moving on.
I start to come to, disoriented and flat on my back. Some bright ass light glares in my face like it’s giving me the third degree. I lift my arms up to block the intense beam, but fail. Both my wrists are shackled and my movement is limited. I try to move my legs, but they’re restrained as well. I tilt my head to the left and find a metallic tray filled with medical tools that are used for only one thing—dissecting.
I spot a couple of faceless lab coats walking around me, the light blurring my vision as they write on clipboards. Tubes and other wires run from my body to various machines, the repetitive beeping getting on my last damn nerve.
“Hey, where am I and who the hell are you people?”
They don’t even acknowledge that I’m speaking, that I’m moving and jerking on the chains holding me down and keeping me from ripping their fucking throats out. They just keep on making notes or whatever it is they’re doing. Maybe I’m not even talking. Maybe I’m imagining the entire thing.
“Answer me, damn it! Where am I, and what the fuck are you doing to me?”
“Hey now, let’s calm it down, Mike,” a calm but stern voice says from behind me. “I would hate to have to knock you out again.”
I try to look behind me to see who is speaking, but I can’t get a beat on where he is. I move my head every which way, but find nothing but darkness beyond the light in my face.
“Who are you and what’ve you done to me?”
“It really doesn’t matter who we are, but what does matter, Mike, is that you are one of the first to progress where all others have fallen short. Most of the other subjects either became what you’ve seen roaming up top or made no real changes at all. It’s really quite remarkable. You should be very happy and proud of your accomplishment.” The man snickers.
“Go to hell!” I yell, and jerk hard on the chains once more. Pulling with all my might, I hear the metal links stretch and actually give some. “I’ll be satisfied once I have my cold, dead hands wrapped around your throat!”
Zap!
My muscles instantly seize up on me, my hands flailing about and knocking the tray next to me over as I shake like a fish out of water. I grit my teeth so damn hard I feel as if I could bust them with relative ease. I try to push past the electricity coursing through my body that has me paralyzed, but I’m SOL.
It stops, my body smoking some and the smell of charred flesh filling my nostrils. I catch my breath and regain my composure.
“That was a warning, Mike. Do that again, and I’ll turn up the juice to BBQ.”
I keep quiet and play the submissive role, acting as though I have learned my lesson and would not think of testing their patience again. For now, I’ll play the bitch.
“Good boy,” the man says. I can hear him smiling. Annoying really. “I wish I had more time to stand here and continue our little banter session, but I have to get moving and you have to get dissected and studied so we can replicate your genes.”
I lay there, defeated, and stare straight into the overhead lamps as I hear the mystery man whispering something to the two labs coats hanging around my feet. No doubt telling them what body parts he wants and where to stick my leftovers once their done. I guess it’ll be a surprise.
“Take care, Mike. Your sacrifice will not go unnoticed.”
And like that, the piece of crap slips away into the darkness and leaves my body to the two coats waiting to crack me open. One of them splits off and goes across the room, the sound of metal on metal bouncing around the noiseless space while the other stands off to my left. He slides the stand that held the tray of cutting utensils off to the side and grabs my arm.
“Administering the sedative now. He should be good to go in a couple of minutes,” the man next to me states flatly like he’s speaking in a documentary.
He brings the needle tip to my upper forearm, the cold, unforgiving metal pressing against my skin. I explode out of my submissive state, jerking my left arm out of the way, and grab the needle from his hands. Before he can react or bark an order, I slam the tip into his neck and inject whatever’s floating inside.
Gurgling his own spit and choking on the blood draining into his throat, the man reaches for the syringe. I spot some keys bouncing around on his hip and snatch them up. I push him backwards with my hand as his blood trickles out the sides of the needle’s tip and down his neck. He stumbles back into some cabinets and falls like a rock to the ground.
I cut my eyes over to the other coat and see him darting for some type of control button on the wall. I grab the scalpel that freed me from my shackle and flick it with deadly accuracy. The razor sharp blade spins end over end and drills into the man’s temple, dropping him like a bad habit before his fingertips can press the button.
I take a deep breath and knock the overhead lamp out of the way, peering around the spacious lab and checking for anyone else that might be lurking about. I thumb through the keys and try out each one on the shackles, going through a good number of them before finding the right one. I unlock the remaining shackles and rub my wrist as I slip off the hard metal table and get to my feet.
I hear movement across the room at one of the doors and run over to the side and out of the way. Just in time too as the door bursts open and two soldiers rush in with weapons drawn and relaying intel out loud. “I’ve got two coats down and subject is nowhere to be—”
I grab the soldier nearest from behind and snap his neck fast and clean, grabbing his machine gun and firing on the other soldier taking point. The padded vest quickly becomes Swiss cheese as the bullets tear through his body and impact the far wall, strings of deep, thick blood trailing in the bullets wake.
The soldier crumbles and falls face first as I toss the lifeless corpse I’m holding off to the side. There will likely be more reinforcements coming after the abrupt end to the transmission.
Okay, I need to gather up what I can real quick and get moving. I hastily strip both men of what gear I can use and double check all weapons to make sure they’re good to go. Two pistols and two machine guns. Kneeling there on the floor, I check each magazine. All look full and ready. I grab the newly acquired pack that I relieved from one of the soldiers and toss it over my shoulder.
I hit the motherlode with these two saps as one had a few hand grenades and the other some explosives. I hear one of the fallen soldiers’ radios go off. “Red team, come in. We’ve got two more units heading your way. ETA is five minutes!”
I get to my feet and peer around the room, trying to find some way out of the lab. I only spot the one main door that will soon have more soldiers arriving with a shoot to kill mentality, and I surely don’t remember the trip to wherever it is I am now.
Think, damn it!
I’m getting frustrated and mad, thinking of everything that has happened thus far and the jerk off finding great joy in my misery. I can’t wait to get my hands wrapped around his throat.
My eyes continue to dance over the room as I rack my brain. I spot a faint light emitting out from under part of the wall. I make my way over and run my hands over the surface, finding a razor thin slit in the wall. A door?
I search and search, my fingers gliding every which way. A portion of the wall suddenly pop
s open. I peek inside and find a lit pathway that goes down and curves off to the right. Looks good to me.
Before I venture on, I reach back into the pack and remove one of the timed explosives. I punch in one minute and set the timer, the seconds counting down as I sling the magnetic explosive across the room. It hits in a good, out of the way place as I slip inside the hidden room and close the secret door behind me.
I keep counting down in my head as I quickly and cautiously worm through the hidden passage leading me to God knows where. I should be beyond the blast radius, and those suckers should be walking into hell itself right now—hopefully. I would hate for it to explode and not kill any of those bastards. What a waste that would be.
Up ahead, my path ends with another solid surface. Is there another secret switch or verbal command to open this thing? Where are the freaking door handles in this place?
I meet up with the wall and start feeling it up all over, my hands frantically sliding all over every little inch looking for that sweet spot. I lose my train of thought on the explosive charge I set, hearing a boisterous clap of what sounds like muffled thunder sound off behind me and the floor beneath me shakes. The lights above me dim and flicker a few times as I hear a rush of something winding down the passageway.
Oh shit!
I pick up the pace and press everywhere I can, the tidal of fire and shrapnel clawing its way to me. I’m calm but panicked at the same time. I mean, I’m partly dead, but my sense of self-preservation is still there. Or at least, it feels that way.
I keep feeling along the smooth surface until part of the wall pops open, allowing me to get my finger tips in the tiny opening. It’s heavy and not moving very well. I pull even harder, the muscles in my arms and chest tightening as I force it open just enough to get myself through.
The inferno is nearly on top of me and ready to swallow me whole, giving me that little extra bit of motivation that I need to swing around and dart inside. I lunge out of the way and off to the side as the fiery beast reaches the end of the hall; the door slams shut. Sirens bellow and the main lights cease. The few backup lights kick in and cast the room into partial darkness once more.
Well, that was close.
Sitting there on the wet floor, I wipe the grime of sweat from my face. The water shuts off, the sirens stop, and silence reclaims the room.
I get to my feet and train my machine gun straight ahead, sweeping the dead silence for any movement. It looks as though the area has been tossed, papers scattered about and tables of all shapes and sizes turned over and dented. I’m finding puddles of blood and splatter streaks on the walls and tubes. I don’t see any lab workers or anything of that nature yet, but this area is big and with all the clutter about, anything could be lurking within.
I work my way towards the epicenter of the room where a rounded workstation is set up with multiple computer stations and other equipment. My gun is ever vigilant, moving like an automated turret system ready to dispense without prejudice.
Most of the screens have been destroyed, and are busted and sparking. I happen across one that is still running, a hairline crack running diagonal from the top right to the bottom left. It’s distorting the images on the screen, but it’s all I’ve got. I pause and look over what’s displayed. A single phrase that says it all yet tells me nothing.
System purge complete of all specimens.
Specimens? That doesn’t sound good.
I hit the enter key on the keyboard, hoping to find something more out, but get nothing other than invalid password and the screen going blank. I shuffle through the papers scattered about on the workstation, trying to come across something that might give me a crash course in what I’m dealing with here. It’s all Greek to me and for any of it to make sense I’d probably need to think like a psychopath with some crazy ass degree.
Aggravated, I knock a pile of papers from the desktop and turn my attention to the slew of cylinders that apparently housed some sort of specimens. I’m hoping it’s the slow, unresponsive variety that was let loose and not the nimble, larger ones that had me stuck like a pig.
I move in for a closer look, going from one hard plastic tube to the next. I notice various intravenous wires filtering in from the top with screens attached to the right. Most are broken while others survive, flickering randomly. I pause at one of tubes. The hard, plastic shell is busted to shit and chunks of what looks like meat cling to the jagged edges. Since I don’t see any bodies, dead or undead, this doesn’t inspire much confidence.
I grip my gun tighter and move on, passing a few cylinders housing bodies. The screens are completely off, so I don’t know what their status is. I look inside one of them, trying to see its face. I can’t tell if they’re undead as a shield of some kind is keeping it secret.
Something short circuits and sends a loud crackling noise through the air, instantly followed by a short burst of electricity that shoots sparks onto the ground. I twist around, poised and ready. My trigger finger rubs the kill switch as I look for the culprit.
Damn man, keep it together. Don’t lose it now. Just a monitor spewing its guts.
I lower my gun and take a breather, focusing on continuing my search and moving on. I take a few steps forward and head to the next filled tube when I feel a hand grab me from behind.
By primal instinct now, I spin around and grab whatever it is by the arm and slam its face into the cylinder next to me, cracking the hard plastic. I must have dislocated its jaw, as one side hangs loose, blood pouring out of its decrepit mouth. It’s not moving very fast and struggles to get upright, swaying from side to side like a drunken sailor on an all night drinking spree.
It moans and groans, quickly finding its second gear that turns into a growl. It comes for me once more, mangled arms stretched outward, reaching for me as it ambles forward. Its right leg is mostly devoid of flesh, its reddish tinted femur showing; its knee cap is scrapped and nicked to shit. Its left leg is turned sideways, dragging behind like a useless, unwanted item.
I grab its head and flick my wrist, ripping its skull away from its lower half. Its body shuts down and crumbles to the ground, falling at the foot of my boots. I toss the severed head off to the side and turn around. Whitish lab coats, soldier getups, and other various dead shuffle in through a door from across the room with all eyes on me. I guess some have already reaped what they’ve sown.
I train my gun and take aim at one of the walker’s ambling towards me, the moans and uncoordinated shuffling filling my ears. Looking dead ahead and ready to drop some corpses, I fire a single shot.
Bull’s eye! Right between the eyes. The splatter from the back of its head exploding does little to deter the others. I didn’t think it would.
It falls face first to the ground as the others continue on. The one behind it is marked with the dead one’s flesh and bone all over its ripped and mangled face.
I train my gun again and squeeze the trigger. Something grabs me from behind, sinking its teeth into my shoulder. My finger clamps down on the trigger and sprays the room wildly with ammo as it tugs and jerks like a voracious animal. I manage to wiggle free and get myself turned around, feeling the other posse of dead inching their way closer to me. I lay eyes on what just snacked on my shoulder, feeling surprised and let down at the same time.
Deacon!
“Deacon, it’s me,” I say, hoping that some part of him still remembers who I am. I know we only met briefly, but I think I made a lasting impression.
He stares at me with those vacant black eyes, his face scratched to hell and parts of his chest gnawed on. My thick blood covers his lips, part of my clothing and flesh dangling from his stained teeth.
“Deac-”
He lunges for me once more, pinning me against some equipment.
He’s lost, gone from the living and now part of the mindless horde converging on me. He grips me by my tattered shirt, and leans in for the kill, my naked neck teasing his ravenous appetite for human meat. I snap my arms up f
ast and break Deacon’s grip, kicking him in the stomach hard enough to knock him flat on his ass. I pull out my pistol and train it on his head as he gets to his feet.
You’ll be at peace shortly.
I’m ready to squeeze the trigger and put Deacon down. A stray bullet plows through his head from the right and exits out the left, blood and skull matter trailing in a thin line as Deacon falls to the ground motionless. I scan the room, looking for the shooter as the dead surround me. Their moans resonate in my ears as my eyes finally capture the gunman, waving his arm from side to side and pointing his finger at me. I think maybe he’s trying to tell me something.
I peer over my wounded shoulder and spot one of the dead reaching for me, its flesh ridden fingertips mere inches from me. I whirl around and grab it by the arm, throwing it to the ground and placing a slug right in its head. Two other men, dressed in TGP gear, emerge from the darkness and mow down the remaining dead. It’s a total blood bath as they smash and rip with the blunt weapons they’re wielding.
I raise my pistol and take aim at the men, not sure if they’re on my side or just getting the dead out of the way before they try to take me down. I don’t see any guns except for the one that killed Deacon. If they’re here to bring me in, bringing a pipe to a gun fight probably won’t work out in their favor.
“You take one step towards me or scratch your ass in a way I feel threatened by, I drop you like a bad habit,” I say aloud.
The two holding the bloody, flesh-covered weapons hold still as the faceless gunman approaches me from my left. He’s short and skinny, although the get up they’re wearing probably adds some weight in their favor. I quickly train my pistol on his head, stopping him cold in his tracks. He raises his hands in the air, shouldering his weapon and cautiously reaches for his helmet.
“I’ve got one hell of an itchy finger, so I would use good judgment here,” I say as he lifts off the head gear.
Oh my!