by M. D. Massey
“Keep your head straight and mouth shut. You call for help or so much as twitch, I’ll place a bullet through that kidney of yours.”
I can feel him shaking through the tremors working their way up the gun. Good. Glad he’s taking me seriously.
“I need to find some sort of control room or something showing a layout of this place. You show me where it’s at, and I just might let you live.”
“I don’t know where anything like that is. I’m just a lab assistant—a nobody. I don’t know anything.”
Quivering coward. I might kill him just because of how spineless he is.
I remove my helmet, leaning in close and whispering into his ear, my hot, foul breath crawling all over his neck. “How ’bout I don’t shoot you and just eat you here on the spot.”
The smell of fear looms in the air and permeates from his nether regions as his head shakily twists back and he glances at me. Pure terror smears his face, a whimpering noise emitting from his lips as he gazes upon my now hideous face.
“Okay, all right, just please don’t hurt me.”
“Smart move, egg head.” I slip my helmet back on. “Pull yourself together and start walking. You make a move that hints to alerting someone, I’ll take my time in devouring every little inch of this pudgy body of yours.”
The lab coat nods his head in agreement, pulling himself together as best he can. I lower my weapon and holster it, figuring by now he isn’t stupid enough to try anything. I give a quick look around for anyone coming. Still no one in sight. I guess the murder of dead beating at their doors is keeping them busy and occupied.
Picking up his mess of papers from the floor, the lab assistant gets on the move. I keep pace with him as we head further in, turning corner after corner and passing by numerous personnel that pay us no mind. So far, so good.
He rounds one more corner and stops in front of a door with no visible handle. I give a quick look down both hallways and find the coast is clear for the moment. He stands firmly in place and looks straight ahead. The door clicks and pops open. I get a brief glimpse of a soldier standing at the entrance.
“What is it? You’re not cleared for access in this sec-”
I grab the lab coat by the scruff of his collar and throw him into the soldier, knocking both men flat to the ground. The Glock sweeps about as I dart inside, quickly scanning over the room for a head count. I count two on the floor and two more coats sitting at a control panel that is littered with monitors. Jack pot.
“Shut this door now!”
The coat on the left turns and flips a switch, the door automatically sealing us in. I move into the room a little more, which has rows and rows of computer servers and various hardware off to my right.
“Get up!” I say flatly, kicking the two men on the ground.
The other coat makes for a weapon under the console and I put him down quick, one shot right in the side of the head. Blood splatters the monitors behind him and tags his colleague as well.
“I would not advise anyone else doing that unless you want to end up like him.”
Off the floor and over by the console now, the remaining men hold tight as I walk forward, looking at the screens. There’s much going on and I’m not sure where a lot of these feeds are streaming from. A few seem familiar, but most look foreign.
“Tell me where these-”
Something hard and blunt strikes me in the back of the head and knocks me hard to the floor. Lights out.
24
Clickety clang! Clickety clang! What the hell happened?
My mind is a bit foggy and what sounds like chains clanging together echoes inside my head. My eyes wander around, finding mostly darkness and a lone light overhead. That seems to be the least of my problems.
Wham! A fist slams into the right side of my face; my head cocks swiftly to the left and my jaw feels as if it’s dislodged from its hinge. Two more shots hit my stomach and one more right across the bridge of my nose. It breaks upon impact as my head snaps back, the thick, mutated blood oozing out and down my lip. I hope it hurt his hand.
“Oh, stay with me, Mike. We’ve just gotten started.”
That voice, that familiar tone that brings my head back down and out of the clouds. My vision is shaky and my eyes feel like they’ve been rattling around loose inside my skull. I blink a couple of times and clear out some of the fog. That’s when I see him. Slade.
He nods at the bruiser dishing out the punishment. I don’t keep my eyes fixed on Slade. Another right cross hits me hard, the oversized brute’s hammer of a fist slamming into my cheek. My head snaps to the opposite side, blood slinging from my mouth and nose. Two more deep and concentrated jabs to my stomach and an uppercut weaken my legs, sending my head dangling forward.
“Shit,” the bruiser exclaims, shaking his right hand as his left rubs the bloodied, swollen knuckles.
“Damn Mike, you sure can take a beating,” Slade exclaims with a joyful glee.
Let me loose and I’ll show you a beating.
Slade walks up to me and grabs my hair, yanking my head back hard. He just stares. Not sure what he’s thinking, but I can only guess it involves my insides becoming more outwardly.
“Truly remarkable,” Slade mutters. His breath smell’s just as bad as the dead. Makes me wish I had a tic tac or something.
He releases my hair and my head falls forward once more. The swelling from the blows is starting to set in. My face is puffing up and my blood continues to flow like a river out of me.
“I must say, you’ve been a pain in my ass for some time now, Mike. Killing my men and throwing a kink in my plans just isn’t Kosher, my friend,” Slade snidely remarks, disappearing in and out of the darkness. “The people that employ me want results and we just can’t have some freak interfering with that.”
“Happy to disappoint you then,” I reply, spitting a thick wad of blood in his direction. “Please let me know how else I can make your life hell.”
Slade pauses, and comes back fully into the light, smirking. He chuckles as he looks around at some of the soldiers and other unsavory men standing on the sidelines.
“I love this guy. Even after he’s beaten and broken, he stills has a sense of humor.”
Laugh it up for now, ’cause soon my cold, dead hands will squeeze the life out of you.
I pull myself up slowly, arms tired and taut, all my weight bearing down on me like an anchor has worn them out. I get to my feet, face swollen and my right eye partially closed, but I keep my left focused on Slade. No matter what he does to me, I will not show weakness or submit. He’ll have to kill me before that ever happens.
“You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that,” Slade says with a devilish smirk. “About as much as the good doctor, Natasha, and that nice little dirty blonde number. Hmmm. Makes me wonder how dirty she really is?”
“If you think I give two craps about any of those people, then you’re more delusional than I thought,” I reply, spitting out another wad of chunky blood that streams across Slade’s black boots.
Slade nods to the soldiers on either side of him, both men stepping back and disappearing into the blackness. The bruiser who has been using me as his human punching bag is dismissed as well, walking off and wiping the blood that is smeared all over his hands on a white rag.
Finally, some alone time!
I stiffen my arms and pull down on the chains holding me in place. I caught a glimpse of what was dangling from the ceiling as I was being whaled on; a black pulley that has some wear and tear around it. I patiently wait for Slade to step in closer, hoping he’s feeling the power swell inside of him—like he has me dead to rights. The sound of a solid metal door squeaking perks my ears and curiosity. More punishment? Better hold off. Don’t want to jump the gun and ruin the surprise.
More chains rattle in the blackness and that ever so familiar shrill and growling fills the silence. It does little to distract me, my thoughts and focus still pointing at Slade.
“Brin
ging in some guests thinking it’s going to scare me or something?”
“Oh no, not at all. I don’t doubt that you’re not anxious about the infected anymore,” Slade replies as two hideous and grotesque undead are led into the light by a couple of soldiers.
They are shackled at the neck with chains trailing behind them. The soldiers pause and yank back hard, halting the snarling, ravenous dead. Attaching the chains to thick metal horseshoe type bars on the floor, the soldiers step off to the side.
Moaning, and reaching for anything that closely resembles food, the dead lunge forward, the shackles digging into their rotted flesh and snapping them back. Slade shoots a glance at one that is mere inches from raking its long, discolored nails down his arm, appearing perfectly comfortable with the undead so close. Interesting.
I contemplate just going for it and making my move in spite of the dead and added soldiers, figuring I’ll catch some lead from at least one of the soldiers before I dispose of Slade. As much as I want to snatch the life from his body though, I’ve got to think smart. Play this right, don’t go off halfcocked and get myself killed. I’m so close and have come too far to fail now. Damn it!
The dead wildly searching for anything and lunging forward have me thinking of what Slade is planning. Whatever it is, it’s more than likely not good. For me anyways.
I keep my arms taut and my fight status peaked, every mutated muscle pulsating with the urge to maim and kill. My eyes cut from the dead to Slade and then to the soldiers. My ears perk up, listening for any added bonus surprises that they might try to spring on me. Stay sharp. Don’t lose focus.
“I want you to know, Mike, that I’m going to make this as painful as possible. I’m not sure if you can feel pain now, given your current condition, but I guess we’re going to find out,” Slade says with a serious look.
Guess he’s done playing around.
“I thought you wanted to cut me up into tiny pieces and study me?”
“I’ll get whatever scraps they leave after they’ve had their fill.”
And just like that Slade gives me one last look, our eyes locking onto one another’s. The connection is so strong it’s almost as if I can feel what he’s feeling and thinking. Hell, really you can look at him and know exactly how much he despises me. Not much of a mystery there.
Slade turns around and walks past the dead, their ravaged fingers grabbing his shirt as he disappears into the blackness. The soldiers follow right on his six, leaving me alone with the gruesome twosome.
With no one left to tempt the dead, they both bring their attention back to me. Snarling and growling, mixed in with some shrills as spit and blood ooze out between their rotted, jagged teeth they fight the restraints clinging to their necks once more. I glance at the black rusted pulley overhead and pull down, finding that it’s in much better shape than I thought. I flex my muscles and yank down hard, allowing all my body weight to press the rusted metal. Nothing. Shit.
Click . . . Click . . .
Two clicking sounds echo in the room and send my head searching as I continue to press the pulley. The metal horseshoe restraints that are holding my hungry guests at bay release, and rotate back into the floor. Great.
The undead waste little time and come for the pig on the silver platter. Mouths ajar, their endless appetites drive them towards me like a freight train out of control. I lift my body into the air and throw my legs forward, nailing both square in the face. Their bones crack and crunch under my thick-soled boots, their mutated blood squirting out the sides. They stumble backwards and fall flat on their backs, blood splattering across the dirty floor.
Keeping my body taut, the muscles in my arms rippling as I pull my body up higher on the chain, I pause and yank down hard. The chain straightens out and the rusted pulley overhead gives way with little resistance, snapping and sending me to the floor.
The dead pick themselves up and train their thoughtless stares towards me. I probably managed to piss them off more than anything. Oh well.
Staring me down and spreading out, they come for me once more. I pick up the loose chain that has the pulley still attached and sling it to the right. It slams into the one’s deformed and battered head. Upon impact the head cracks, and the infected falls to the side lifeless. Chunks of brain matter fill the air and cake the rusted metal’s exterior.
I jerk the chain back towards me, the pulley scraping along the floor as the other infected grabs me from behind. Growling and its hot breath crawling down my neck, it digs its ridged teeth into my shoulder and clamps down. It’s strong, holding me in place with its meat challenged arms that have spots where its forearm is showing through the thinly laced flesh. It’s determined and doesn’t let up, pulling and jerking my meaty body.
I lean forward, ripping my shoulder from its mouth and giving me some wiggle room. Blood streams down my shoulder and onto my chest, soaking my shirt through. On top of its incessant shrilling and growling, I hear two separate metal doors open. Great! Now what?
Another mutated undead rushes in, chomping its mouth and sprinting with a heavy foot towards us. The other sound is that of gears jostling about, weapons clanging together. I count only one possible soldier. Now it’s a party.
The monkey on my back goes for seconds, pulling me towards him as the other emerges from the shadows. Blood pours from its lipless mouth, splattering the floor around its mutated feet. I catch a quick glimpse of the lone soldier standing off to the side, silently waiting with his gun trained at us. I’m getting used to being stuck between this rock and hard place.
I ram my head back hard and crown the pulse-less body, striking it again where it’s nose used to be. It releases me, stumbling backwards like a drunken fool and giving me some personal space. I grab it by its deformed arm and hurl it towards the soldier, gunfire instantly brightening up the darkness as the other dead infected sprints toward me. Not very tactical and more mindless then thoughtful, it reaches for me.
With a jerk of the chain still attached to me, I step to the side and slip it around its decaying neck. I pull back sternly, tightening the steel and killing its forward motion. It growls and shrills, arms swinging wildly. I shove my knee in the mid part of its back and jerk the chain down. Its head tears free from its body and rolls across the floor. Blood pumps from its stump and sprays me in the face. Dead once more.
I kick the dead body to the side, just for grins, and give my attention to the various sounds coming from the darkness. Looks like the soldier didn’t fare well. His body is laid out like an open buffet as the undead rip chunks of flesh from the body. Multiple exit wounds litter the infected’s back, and part of its face is missing, exposing a portion of its cracked cheek bone.
It pauses and tilts its head to the side, staring at me. It bears its teeth and gives a low shrill, springing from its stooped position and lunging forward. Instinctively, I grasp its head and flick my wrist, snapping its neck. It crumbles to the floor, nothing more than a rotting corpse.
I kneel in front of the now mutilated soldier, the stench of fresh and overly rotted meat penetrating my nose. But it does nothing to tempt me. I’m not the least bit curious as to what it would taste like. Fighting back the urge is easy when it’s not there. Part of me, regardless of how much, is still human and I plan on remaining that way.
Keys. I need to find some keys and get out of these cuffs.
Scavenging the dead soldier, I rummage through his utility belt and pockets that are lined up and down his pants. I finally find a set of keys buried deep in his back pocket. I push his body to the side and fish them out. Not too many, just a handful. I go through them quickly, coming up short on the first three, but strike gold on the fourth. Removing the restraints and rubbing my wrists, I get to work stripping the body.
He’s loaded with an array of goodies that will definitely come in handy. Flash bang grenades, a few frag grenades, a couple pistols, and of course his machine gun which is still clutched tightly in his hand.
I remove
the blood soaked belt from his waist and slip it on. Perfect fit. I gather up what extra ammo he has tucked in his pockets and grab his machine gun. He’s got a death grip on it, his fingers still wrapped around the butt and one lone finger resting on the trigger. Time to let go, amigo. I don’t think you have any more use for it.
Grabbing his stiff fingers and prying them away from the metal, I take the gun and eject the clip. It’s partially used of course, but still in good shape. No need to replace with a fresh mag yet. Pistols look good too, fully loaded.
Still kneeling next to the soldier’s body, I notice something illuminated on his left forearm. It is face down, the blue glow from its screen lighting up the pool of blood in some weird color. I lift his arm and remove the device, wiping away the blood that has been smeared across the screen. It takes me a minute to decipher what it is, the screen changing every couple of seconds and showing different images and readouts in real time. Looks to be some sort of digital GPS unit for this facility.
I attach it to my forearm and play around with it, getting the hang of its controls and layout rather quickly. I widen the scope and get a bird’s eye view of where I’m at. The murder of dead piling up at the multiple entrances is mounting, the blood red color growing before my eyes.
With some swift finger work, I locate the holding cells and get a beat on Slade. He’s not too far from here, but looks like he’s pretty well guarded. The swarm of guards flows all over, making me wonder how I’m going to get close enough to Slade and the cells.
There aren’t too many options staring me in the face, but the murder of dead gives me an idea. It’s a long shot and probably one I’ll regret, but my dead brethren are about to serve a purpose.
I trace out a route on the screen to the main electrical room for the facility, finding it to be much closer and just a short way up the hall from where I’m at. There doesn’t seem to be very many guards patrolling that way at the moment. Time to get moving.