by M. D. Massey
What the hell is that?
I peer down at my hands. Visions of something swimming up from my palms and through my arms fill my eyes. They widen some, as the “novel” sensation repeats all over my body. I’m not panicked and keep my cool, unsure if what I’m seeing is real or just a hallucination.
“Everything all right?” Natasha asks.
“Yep, just thought I saw something . . . weird. Well, I guess not any weirder than everything else.”
“One of the noted side effects can be hallucinations. So whatever you think you’re seeing may not be real.”
Man I hope so.
I lay my head back down and drift off. Dr. Lentz didn’t exactly say how long this process would take. It could be instant or it could take a while. I hate waiting, but I have no choice. It is what it is.
Lying there I hear Natasha and the doctor chatting about something, but I can’t make it out. It sounds all muffled and distorted. Probably because I’m not concentrating on them fully. Then, as if on cue, everything becomes silent. No talking, no low humming of machines running in the background, and the odd sensation that was worming through my body has stopped, almost like time has been frozen and the only thing still plugging along is my brain. I could be dreaming again, but I don’t think I am. Doesn’t feel like a dream.
I tilt my head up from the table, my eyes now full of clarity as everything seems to have a sharp, crisp focus about it. I’m still strapped to the table and don’t see Natasha or the doctor anywhere. The room looks to have been tossed; some of the cases filled with those weird creatures have been shattered and everything else is in disarray. But on a good note, I don’t feel like a mindless, flesh-craving lump of meat. I guess the process, or whatever that was, worked.
How long has it been though? Hours? Days? Weeks?
I pull at the leather straps on my wrists, exerting little energy as my left wrist breaks free. I grab my right wrist and tug, the strap giving just as easy. I remove the remaining two from my ankles and swing my legs over the side of the table. I push off and land on the floor, feeling rejuvenated and so much better. I take a moment to collect my thoughts and formulate a game plan. My brain is still a little scattered, but I feel much more focused now than I have been.
My hand brushes against my upper leg and strikes something in my pocket. I dig in and pull out some kind of storage device. I walk towards one of the computers still intact and pop the top, inserting the device. An image of Dr. Lentz appears with Natasha behind him. It’s a video.
“If you’re watching this, it means that the injection worked. I can’t say what will happen from here, as again, you’re the first person that has bonded with the virus in such a remarkable-”
The screen goes black, but the audio is still plugging along. I can hear Natasha and the doctor chattering as some loud banging echoes throughout. The video comes back.
“They’re nearly in Dr. Lentz. You need to hurry the hell up!” Natasha exclaims. Her back is to the doctor and I spot her pistol trained straight ahead.
“I have uploaded what files I could access that goes into more detail about what is going on around here and my notes on possible vaccines. If you make it out, you’ll have a powerful weapon against the corporation. Good luck.”
The video stops abruptly and the files the good doctor uploaded appear. There’s a lot, more than enough to sink this titanic into the dark black abyss. I remove the thumb drive and cram it back into my pocket. I sure as hell don’t want to lose the only leverage I’ve got.
Time to get while the getting is good.
I keep quiet and move towards the doors that are ajar on the opposite side of the room, taking care not to rush into anything. I spot multiple bullet holes that have Swiss cheesed the door. I glance back to the right where Natasha might have been standing. At least she got off some rounds before whatever went down here. I don’t see any blood on the floor either. Guess she missed. That sucks.
I push on the door and slowly swing it open, peering out into the hall. TGP soldiers are scattered about down the hall mixed in with the dead. I spy some weapons strewn about, something that will come in handy on my exit from this hell hole.
I step out into the hall. The door is off its hinge a little and squeaks as I push it open further. A hand grabs my shoulder tightly from behind and pulls me back. I throw my arm back hard without pause and slam my elbow right into its face. Bone crunches and cracks as it let’s go and falls to the ground. I twist around and peer down at it, blood pouring from its deformed and now broken nose. I kick it in the face hard one more time, its head slapping off the ground like a bouncing ball. I continue its well deserved beating, my boot planting in its face so many times that I lose count. I finally stop after its skull cracks like an egg and the gooey insides slip out. Oddly enough, it never occurred to me this could’ve been someone of the non-dead variety. Oh well, glad it wasn’t. One less meat-muncher I have to contend with.
A loud shrill grabs my attention and pulls me about face. I look down the hall and find two dead eyeballing me. Out of the corner of my eye, I spot a pistol about midway up the hall, the thick black handle poking up some from the dead bodies that lay around the solider.
I take one step forward and the race is on, the dead sprinters gunning for my tasty flesh as they blaze down the hall. I run full out, dodging the bodies on the floor, jumping and sidestepping the rotting carcasses.
Shrilling loudly and honing in on me, they leap from the ground and lunge at me, razor sharp talon fingers leading the way. I fall to my knees and slide, leaning back as far as I can as they narrowly miss ripping out my throat. They hit hard behind me, knocking dead bodies into the wall.
I get back to my feet and toss one of the dead bodies out of my way, digging the pistol free from the dead soldier’s hip. I can hear the infecteds breathing, their nasty tongues slipping across their torn and decaying lips, savoring the meal that lies before them.
They barrel toward me. I cock the pistol and turn around. Cool as ice and steady as a surgeon deep inside someone’s chest, I chamber off two rounds.
Splat, splat. My lullaby.
The slugs tear through their meaty membranes, sending a pink mist of blood in the bullet’s wake. It feels good to be back in top form.
I do a bit more salvaging while all is silent, picking up extra rounds and pistols and other various weapons. I load myself down with what I can carry comfortably when I hear a loud static noise that perks my ears. It’s close but muffled some. I trace the sound to one of the many dead soldiers and remove it from his waist. A familiar voice breaks in over the static. A little choppy, but enough for it to get my blood boiling.
“Unit three report. What’s your status? Has the subject been recovered?”
The two-way goes silent for a moment, my mind thinking of all the wonderful and colorful things I would so like to say right now. I gently rub the transmit button, the multitude of thoughts flooding my brain on the verge of spilling over the air waves. I wrestle with the do I or don’t I decision. The two-way goes off again.
“Find the subject now! We’ve managed to pick up some loose ends and I want him found. Kill whatever dead you encounter, but bring him to me!”
The two-way goes all static and something that Slade said keeps repeating over and over inside my head. “We’ve managed to pick up some loose ends.”
What does that mean? What loose ends did he pick up? That is when it hits me, or so I think. At this point I’m assuming, which is never a good scenario no matter what the situation is. But in this instance, I think it’s safe to keep with my assumption. That they somehow captured Natasha.
I hear a low groan nearby. It’s not like the dead, but more like someone who’s injured and writhing in pain. I clip the radio to my hip and track down the faint noise, tossing more dead bodies out of my way. I come across a soldier who has a chunk of his left leg chewed off. He’s in bad shape and I’m not sure when he’s going to turn. Better get to the questioning.
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br /> I grab him by the scruff of his armored suit, easily lifting his body from the ground and bringing his pain-filled face in front of mine.
“I’m going to do you a solid and put you down before you turn into one of those things. But, before I do, you’re going to answer a couple of questions.”
He squints and tosses his head from side to side, moans escaping through his clinched teeth while his hands grasp at the missing piece of meat that was part of his leg. I can’t tell if he understood me or if he even heard me for that matter.
I slap him in the face once, just to get his attention. My palm reddens and bruises his cheek, his head thrown to the side.
“Hey, open your eyes and look at me so that I know you’re listening.”
He complies and opens his eyes further. Terror instantly fills his face and panic washes over him like a waterfall. He mumbles some shit I can’t understand. I hear a shrill in the distance mixed with the clambering sound of something heading this way.
“Where’s Slade?” I ask flatly. The soldier doesn’t reply, but keeps mumbling. I grab his rawhide of a leg, digging my fingers into the exposed meaty part. He screams out in pain.
“WHERE’S SLADE?” I hold tight for a few seconds, seeing if he’s going to play ball or not. My fingers are locked in good, the squishy meat mingling between my digits.
He opens his mouth as if to speak, blood ejecting from his red lips as he coughs hard. I’m on the verge of saying screw it and killing him. Or perhaps I’ll leave him for some hungry guest. I wonder if they like leftovers.
“He’s . . . bel . . . us,” the soldier faintly says. I release his leg and hold firm to his armor. His eyes roll into the back of his head and his body goes limp. He’s gone.
I wipe my blood soaked hand on his suit and get to my feet, the noise of hungry mouths waiting to be fed rushing this way. I grab the earpiece from the dead soldier’s body and place it on my right ear, plugging it into the two-way before turning it back on. I set it to scan all channels, hoping to get a play-by-play of where the soldiers and dead are.
I check my newly acquired Glock’s ammo situation, finding a full clip of shiny brass bullets that are begging to inflict some pain. I slap the clip back in and cock the Glock, training it at the soldier’s head and firing. I did him a favor.
I slip the pistol in the front of my pants and off to the side, face cold and blank. My goal hasn’t changed, just my hatred for Slade is urging me to get a move on. Standing there and devising my game plan, only one thought keeps beating me senseless.
I’m coming for you, Slade!
23
I manage to work my way closer to the central hub that’s controlling this mess. I dodge most of the soldiers, but run into small pockets of wandering dead that I have to dispense of. Their thick, lumpy blood covers my face and clothes as if I bathed in their bodies. Some let me be and just pass while others try their luck. Not sure why some ignore me and treat me as one of the dead while others come after me like I’m alive. I mean, am I alive?
The hammer I have clutched in my hand drips blood, meat hanging from its red-tinted claw end. I came across it in a storage room that was ajar. I don’t think using the pistol the closer I get to the central hub would be a good idea. Might sound some alarms.
I dispatch two more dead with head shots, cratering in their skulls with ease. They crumble to the floor. Looks like some lab nerds who got the raw end of the stick.
I step over one of the dead nerds and hug the wall, the bloody hammer hanging loose yet ready in my hand. The chattering over the two-way quiets, but I can hear some voices up ahead and around the corner. I approach with caution and stop at the edge, slowly peering around.
Dead. Lots of dead bodies fill this semi-narrow corridor. Two sentries stand guard with automatic weapons while gabbing, chuckling, and laughing as their eyes cut my way every so often. Doesn’t seem like their too focused. Perfect.
I grab one of the many dead bodies riddled with bullet holes and jerk it off the ground. I hold it upright and slowly move its back to the edge of the corner, hopefully catching the sentry’s attention.
Instantly, their banter session ceases and they become silent. Their weapons cock and the soles of boots squeaking against the floor come closer to me. Hook, line, and sinker.
I prop up the bait against the wall and make haste, disappearing from sight. I don’t go far. I’m still within ear’s reach of the two sentries making for the dead.
Three shots ring out in succession—two to the dead man’s back and one more in the head. The bullet explodes out the front of its head. It falls forward and lands on a pile of dispatched bodies as the sentries cautiously come around the corner. Covered from head to toe in battle ready gear, they stop and train their weapons on the ground.
One of the soldiers pokes and prods the dead body, while the other stands back a few paces. He scans from side to side as his weapon follows along. I’m not sure what he’s doing, but I guess he’s making sure it’s really dead.
Buried under some bodies, I quietly push them off and get to my feet. I sneak up behind the sentry covering his partner, and grab his head gear, flicking my wrist. His head bobbles loosely as his body goes limp, sinking to the ground. I quickly grab him by his upper body and hold tight, snatching his weapon and training it at his partner’s back. The soldier in front of me spins around and trains his weapon in our direction, my surly face reflecting back from his black shielded face as I open fire. The rounds strike his armor and penetrate, riddling him with holes as he falls to the ground.
I let go of my human shield and allow him to crumble to the ground and lay among the numerous dead bodies. I give a quick look around for any curious individuals, dead or alive. The coast is still clear. Guess everyone’s used to random gunfire now.
Peering at the soldier at my feet, I look him over from head to toe, taking in his size and approximately how much he weighs. An idea conjures in my mind, crazy and yet much more realistic than my original plan. I can pull this off, I think.
I get to one knee and strip the dead soldier of everything, making sure to take note of where all weapons and other various objects go. I pick the body clean in no time and get dressed, sliding all the body armor on. I leave the dead soldier mostly naked, his blue and white stripped boxers shielding his defeated manhood. I do a double check of everything and look over to the other fallen soldier. Everything seems to be in place. Just hope that everyone else buys it.
I grab the soldier I borrowed the clothes from and hoist him off the ground, looking around for a room I can stuff the body in. I notice a door up the way some to my right and on the left. I step over the cluttered dead flesh and make my way there, finding the door is locked. With a little finesse and a “can do” attitude, I jerk firmly one time and dislodge it.
It’s a tiny storage room that is no bigger than a walk in closet. I toss the body in and grab the other. I would hate to not have them keep each other company.
I shut the door and head back towards the entrance, grabbing up the soldier’s weapon and making for the single door. I figure if I keep the convo’s to a bare minimum and do no bullshitting, I should be fine.
Weapon in hand and my objective clearly lodged in my mind, I look over the barren walls for some sort of control panel or anything that might open it up. Nothing on the sides and the top is clear as well except for a thumb nail sized round disk.
Ding! An elevator? Going . . . down.
The doors separate, revealing a crisp white metal interior that has lights illuminating its inside. I lower my weapon to my side and step in, turning about face as the doors move back out and seal me in. It’s not very spacious, looking to only fit a few soldiers at a time.
Silent and smooth, the lift releases and sends me downward. It’s only a short ride however before it stops and opens once more. I expect to see numerous guards patrolling and people roaming about. My game face is poised and ready—if they can even see it. But there’s no one within sight
.
Odd. Guess this could be some kind of maintenance elevator or just a chute that is used instead of the main entrance. There could be more of these down here.
I cautiously step out and look both ways, the scenery much more vivid and lively than where I first awoke. No dark halls or the look of death’s handy work spilled all over the floors and walls. The evil and utter horror that is lurking above has managed to be held back from here. I might need to help things along and change that.
Static from the earpiece breaks the thoughts running inside my head.
“All units, sector five is showing heightened activity and there seems to be a malfunction in the door’s security locking mechanism. Teams three and four, converge on the site and provide cover for the maintenance crew already on scene.”
“Copy that. On our way now!”
The transmission ceases and the static dies off. I take my chances and go left, still unsure where I’m going. I try to play the part as best I can, keeping my movement fluid and clean cut, the barrel of the gun draped across my chest as I grip the butt. I keep an open ear for any indication of where Slade might be.
I come to a T in the road and keep moving, going right this time and finding a few lab coats roaming the halls. I don’t see any soldiers about and the lab coats are peering down at papers and chatting amongst themselves, not paying any attention to me.
I continue down the hall and keep my head forward, peering from side to side behind the dark visor that shields my face. The small group of white coats that were chatting breaks apart and goes their separate ways, leaving just one with his nose buried deep in his work. This is one instance he should’ve been a little flaky.
Stepping carefully, and trying to conceal my presence, I slip in behind him and gaze around for any inbound bodies. All clear, but not sure for how long. I need to move fast.
Shouldering the automatic weapon, I remove the more personal Glock from its holster and nudge it in his back.
“What the hell!” Startled to say the least, the lab coat drops his papers and tries to turn around, but I stop him, shoving the barrel into his kidneys harder.