Apocalyptic Beginnings Box Set

by M. D. Massey

  “If I wanted you dead or incapacitated, you’d be on the floor either way right now. So please, lower the pistol. We’re on your side,” the woman says with a harsh but stern tone. Her black hair is a dirty mess and her stone cold face gives no signs that she’s playing around. I kind of like this chick already.

  “Who are you?” I ask, lowering my pistol some, but keeping it at the ready. “You’re wearing the same getup as the other assholes that have been trying to kill or capture me.”

  “We worked for the company, but now we’re independent.” She stares at me long and hard. Her eyes scrutinize my face and stroll down my body. “So, you’re one of the group they’ve been watching and studying. You look like shit, you know.”

  “Yeah, I met captain dick a little earlier,” I snidely reply back. I cough, tilt my head to the right, and spit out a vile, reddish loogey that hurls to the wet floor below. “He had me strapped to a table and was about to play operation on me when I killed his two lab goons. He unfortunately left before I could get a better look at him.”

  “Slade,” she mutters under her breath. “How rapid is it? The change I mean.”

  “I have no clue,” I reply, wiping my cotton mouth free of the blood I just ejected. “I feel fine now, depending on what your definition of fine is. I’m not doubled over and drooling like an invalid, so that’s a plus.”

  “You’re definitely one of the lucky ones. Most others that we’ve encountered that have been injected, bitten, or scratched, turned rather quickly.”

  “Somehow, I don’t feel super lucky.”

  I check out the two guys out of the corner of my eyes to make sure they’re staying put. One is just staring at me and the other is peering out the door.

  “Why are you down here? If you’re trying to find your way out, you’re going the wrong way.”

  “I’m not leaving until I get some answers on what the hell they’re doing here and how to cure me. And maybe kill a lot of people responsible for all this?”

  “Cure?” she snickers. “I’ve seen a lot down here and have yet to come across any kind of vaccine.”

  “Well, I have to try. I can’t exactly stay like this,” I say, coughing again.

  “You’re not going to try and eat me or anything are you? ’Cause that won’t work out too well for you.”

  “Hey, we need to get moving,” the man standing watch outside the door says flatly while holding his hand to his right ear. “Their sending another unit and I’ve got eyes on some stragglers heading our way. There might be some of the faster moving ones along with them.”

  “All right, Stone, secure that door. What’s your name?”

  “Mike.”

  “I’m Natasha, that’s Hound, and the other over there is Stone. You a pretty good shot with that?”

  “Yeah, I can hold my own,” I reply. I know I look like one of them, but for now, my reflexes are still razor sharp. Well, maybe a little more on the dull side.

  Stone slips inside and grabs the heavy steel door, pulling it closed as its joints squeak and beg for oil. Nearly shut, the moans and shrills from the dead converge on us, sneaking in from the outside. A mutated arm slips in and grabs Stone’s hand. One good jerk and twist and Stone’s hand is ripped cleaned off, sending him stumbling backwards and the door flying open.

  “Stone!”

  Natasha and I train our guns at the door and open fire at a rather large infected that is grossly disfigured, the bullets tearing through its muscular frame and exiting out its back. Its mouth is ajar and peering around, looking at all the tasty morsels waiting to be devoured. We work our way towards Stone, who is on the ground and bleeding out like a wounded animal. Hound wields his blunt weapon and strikes it right in the infected’s face, smashing its mangled nose back into its skull. It stumbles backwards and shrills loudly, allowing just enough room for Hound to grab the door once more and slam it shut, locking it.

  Natasha takes a knee next to Stone to assess the damage. I stand watch with my pistol gripped in my hands, my eyes scanning the room. The ravenous beast beats at the door, the metal pushing in towards us with every hammer like toss it throws.

  “Shit. He’s bleeding bad and it looks like it scratched the hell out of his arm as well.”

  I look down at Stone, his face going pale and the signs of change showing rapidly. His eyes flood with the blackness and soon he will become one them. I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but he won’t be leaving this room— alive anyways. “Check out his eyes.”

  Natasha looks into the tearful eyes of Stone, who is now convulsing and spitting up blood. With a heavy sigh, she gets back to her feet and holsters her sidearm. She trains it at his head. “I’m sorry.”

  The pistol sounds off, sending a slug into Stone’s head. Multiple rapping sounds at the door resonate in my ears as Natasha looks at her fallen friend. Not a single tear falls, but her stern lips and emotionless stare say it all.

  “Natasha, we need to get moving now,” I say.

  “I’ve got that unit coming in hot and ready. ETA is just a few minutes out,” Hound adds.

  “I’ll take point, Hound in the middle, and Mike, you’ve got our backs.”

  The mounting murder of dead at the door is becoming too much for it to withstand. Their crazed moans and incessant pounding has brought our only barrier to its knees. “Stay close and keep up. You fall behind, I will leave your ass without a thought.”

  Natasha hugs the wall, returning the way they must have come in, and opens the door, her pistol the first on the scene. She quickly sweeps the area, looks back at us with a nod, and disappears into the blackness beyond. Hound moves without thought as gunfire and shrills play in the air behind me.

  The cavalry must be here.

  I dart out into the unknown and trail closely behind the two rogue soldiers, wondering where they’re going and if I’m being led to the slaughter.

  19

  The tidal wave of ravaged flesh and teeth we left behind has occupied the TGP soldiers for the interim. The moans and gun fire has faded to my back and so far, both Natasha and Hound have not given me a reason to place a single slug in the back of their heads. Like everyone else I’ve encountered though, they’re all just one pull of the trigger away from the curtain call.

  Natasha slows up the pace as we come to a corner; raising her left hand in the air and her right gripping the pistol that’s hovering at the edge. She peers out around the corner. Hound has his hand trained to his ear, listening intently and relaying positions of the roaming patrols.

  “Where are we going?” I ask, bent down and training my gun down the way we came.

  “Looks like we’re clear for the next few corridors, but we need to move now,” Hound whispers.

  “To get you your answers,” Natasha replies flatly, attention still straight ahead. “Ok, let’s move!”

  We move down another long stretch of corridor that has been untouched by the death and violence that has consumed everything else I’ve seen. I look towards Natasha frequently, and see her peering up towards the ceiling.

  She stops, holds us up for a few and then waves us on. There are cameras mounted in the corners moving from side to side—no doubt big brother keeping an eye on its experiment that has gone awry.

  My thoughts drift around more and more now and I’m finding it increasingly harder to stay focused on anything. I’m not tired, just scatterbrained. When a thought forms in my head it dissolves as quickly as it came, going to the next almost instantly. I’m trying to think ahead and have a plan in case I find myself in a tough spot, but I’m barely able to keep my attention on both fronts.

  Hound grabs my shoulder and pulls me around, his finger placed over his mouth, indicating for me to keep silent. We’re concealed behind some crates as I see Natasha looking dead ahead through a small crack in the thick plastic containers. Curious, I stand up a little to try and see what she’s looking at. Hound grabs my arm and yanks me down.

  “Stay down and keep quiet,” Na
tasha sternly orders.

  I manage to get a brief glimpse of two soldiers standing guard, one on either side of a double metal door. There are no markings of any kind and a single camera pans from side to side. A lone keypad is off to the right and illuminated in a light blue haze.

  Natasha digs into her left pant pocket and pulls out something. I can’t see what it is, with everything happening so fast now, I’m feeling like I’m sinking in quicksand and can’t get out. I try to focus on what she’s doing; pointing her arm straight ahead and holding it steady at the TGP soldiers.

  Hound still has his hand snug up to his ear, listening intently and turning to Natasha’s shoulder, patting it once and giving her a thumbs up as she nods. She brings her arm back down and places whatever it was back in her pocket. She looks at Hound and gestures with her hand. Maybe some signal or code, of which I’m clueless. Hound sounds off over the mic connected to his headset.

  “All units, package and baggage spotted in section G. Proceed with caution as possible infected may be present as well. Converge on targets and terminate anything non-living. This is a top level priority and all TGP tactical soldiers should respond.”

  I glance at the soldiers standing guard and see them look in each other’s general direction. They nod to one another and quickly head off in the opposite direction.

  “Good job, Hound. That bought us a few minutes. Won’t take ’em long to figure out it was a bullshit call. Let’s go!”

  Natasha and Hound cautiously slip out from behind the containers and race over to the keypad. I’m not as graceful and feel like I’ve been on an all-night drinking binge—my head swimming and my legs feeble. I try to make it look natural or not as bad as what I know it seems, but I stumble into the wall. I look over and see Natasha striking the pad, her face calm and collected as Hound keeps his ears to the ground.

  “Shit! They’ve changed the access code.”

  “What are we going to do?” I ask.

  “Hound, you’re up!”

  Natasha slides to the right and draws her pistol, training it down the hall as Hound settles in front of the pad. He pounds away, fingers moving so damn fast it’s almost a blur. “What’s it looking like, Hound? Don’t think we have too much time here.”

  “They’ve added some additional security measures. I need five minutes for the work around.”

  “You got three, so get cracking! How you holding up back there? You’re looking worse now!”

  “I’m . . . fine,” I sluggishly reply back, rubbing my eyes and trying to remove the mental cobwebs.

  “Just so you know, Mike, if you go all flesh-eating happy, I’ll put two right through the middle of your skull.”

  “As long as you promise to do so.”

  Hound continues to work his magic, his fingers dancing over the keypad and the flashes of light changing every second. My approach probably would’ve been a little less tactful. A bullet through the control pad generally works well.

  A loud, single shrill erupts from I don’t know where and sends our heads pivoting around in every direction, our guns sweeping to find the source. A small burst of gunfire follows, silencing the all too familiar sound.

  “Where’d that come from?” Natasha asks while looking over her shoulder. “Hound, we need that door open now!”

  Multiple moans and shrills chime off in unison as more gunfire echoes throughout the halls. It seems as if it’s coming from all over and rushing towards us like a massive tidal wave of death itself. Down the corridor, I spot a burst of light and pick up the distinct noise of empty casings bouncing off the ground.

  “Hound! Get this damn door open now or we’re all shit up a creek without a paddle!”

  “Two minutes!”

  Two TGP soldiers back out of the adjoining corridor down from me, firing in an erratic behavior and scrambling away as if their lives depend on it. They look in our general direction, but pay us no mind as the murder of flesh-eaters break into my view.

  “How’re we coming on that door?” I ask, training my pistol dead ahead and taking aim at whatever looks at me cross eyed, which is everything.

  “Thirty seconds!” Hound says, his voice steady and not a hint of worry in his tone.

  Two deformed flesh-eaters plow over the concrete, racing along the walls on either side. Chunks of rock hurl into the air. The soldiers fire wildly, missing mostly, but connecting some.

  It does little to deter the masses as the two ravenous beasts leap from the walls and tackle their prey, instantly ripping into them and devouring their insides with little effort.

  The trailing herd moans loudly, and stammers about, arms stretched out in front of them and all eyes fixed on us now. The two beasts ripping the flesh from the soldiers’ bones stop and pause, staring in our general direction as bloody meat clings to their jagged teeth. Their human appearance is nearly gone, leaving nothing more than a bad experiment gone wrong. Or right. Depends on whom you ask.

  “Ok, got it!” Hound exclaims.

  Access override accepted . . .

  The door begins to open, but stops suddenly, leaving enough room to fit just part of our body through.

  “Damn it!” Natasha growls, kicking the door with her thick-soled combat boots.

  The murder continues their advancement as they move past the two feasting on the soldiers. A few get ballsy and take a place at the eatery, reaching in with skinless hands and arms, exposed muscles showing through. With a quick growl and snap like a dog not liking the company, one beast strikes the unwanted corpse in the upper chest. It’s talon-like claws slash it open and lop off its head as its body slams into the passerby’s. The soldiers they ravaged are nothing more now than a bloody mess, clothing and meat mixed together into one nasty, pulpy, red concoction.

  “Come on, help me get this open!” I say, gripping the top portion of the left side of the door. Hound grabs below me and Natasha takes the opposite side. I do not like our odds, but I’ve got to give it a try, for my Becky. “Everyone, pull as hard as you can!”

  At once, we all pull, straining and trying to concentrate, not looking back toward the advancement of flesh-eaters on our heels. The hot, stomach churning breath of rotted human meat and a soulless body does little to affect me now. I am one of them or close to it.

  I wonder if these soulless demons still want to devour me or have I been accepted into the brotherhood of the damned?

  The door gives some and makes a loud screech, piercing the veil of moans and blood lust. “Pull harder!”

  We pull once more and my energy level continues its roller coaster ride. I feel more energized now and less lethargic. I need to take advantage of the upside while I can before it heads down the other side of the tracks. “Take my piece and lay down cover fire. Natasha, do the same.”

  I shove my pistol into Hound’s hand and nudge both of them out of the way. I stand in front of the stubborn door and grip both sides of the metal.

  “What the hell you doin’, Mike? You can’t open that yourself?”

  “Just kill those bastards, all right!”

  Both guns sound off immediately and the sweet melody of slugs tearing through skulls plays in the air. It warms my somewhat beating heart.

  I grit my teeth and start pushing outward at the door, every muscle fiber teaming with some kind of extra juice that has me raging like a steroid freak. The door gives. I push even harder, my Becky’s voice entrenched in the back of my mind spurring me to keep pushing. It gives even more, allowing me to fit my body into the narrow space and push it open further.

  “All right, come on!”

  The lights flicker overhead and the door reengages, trying to shut and crush me in the process. I lock my arms in place and bear down, determined to come out the victor in this battle of wills.

  The dead drop in droves, but so many are filtering towards us that it does little to diminish their numbers. The two larger beasts that have finished their snack get up and look me dead in the eye. No pun intended. They snarl
and advance our way, smacking the animated corpses off to the side like insignificant lumps of meat.

  “Shit, I’m out!” Natasha yells as she holsters her pistol and slips under my arms and into the room.

  My arms are giving out and the door is overcoming my willpower. The dead are within reach as Hound’s pistol jams. He smacks the steel a few times, trying to pull the hammer back. Giving up, he turns to dart under my arms. A handful of the dead latch onto Hound and pull him back, digging their rotted teeth into his flesh.

  Panicking and flailing his arms wildly, Hound tries to fight off the unholy terror dragging him back into hell. He reaches for me, his eyes wide and his hand shaking. Like leeches attached to his neck, arms, and other places, they rip into him and tear chunks of meat from his body, sending blood spraying all over me.

  The dead take him down and a crowd of hungry flesh-eaters converge on top of him, grabbing at anything and everything they can. His screams subside and only the moans remain.

  I catch a horribly disfigured woman out of the corner of my eye as she lunges at me, teeth leading the way. She bites into my forearm and before she’s able to rip it away, Natasha shoves a crowbar right through her skull. Her teeth release and she falls to the ground in a dead heap of animated meat. Natasha grabs my arm and yanks me inside, the door slamming shut, blocking us from the dead mere inches away.

  20

  The rapping at the door does very little to spring my nerves as I’m slump down, resting my back against the cold metal. I look at my forearm, inspecting the deep bite mark that has my pale, dying skin looking bruised and beyond heinous. It doesn’t hurt, the skin just feels pulled and jerked out of place.

  “Damn it!” Natasha exclaims, kicking over some boxes.

  The clamoring of the empty containers plays off the walls in the small room. It’s dimly lit and filled with more containers and other odds and ends. Not sure why all the security for a bunch of junk, but there must be some reason behind it.

  “I’m sorry about your friends.”