State of Decay r-1

by James Knapp

  “You were in the picture,” I said. She was in one of the photos Nico had left with me, the one my neighbor was interested in. She looked around the room, her eyes settling on the figures against the far wall.

  “I’m not really here,” she said. “Neither of us is; this is a construct of your mind. You are alone, and you are in great danger. Do you understand?”

  I nodded.

  “The people who have taken you set up this facility in order to learn how our minds work. No one here will survive what is to come except for you, but only if you do what I say. Do you understand?”

  There was something about her stare. I found myself nodding again.

  “Yes.”

  “Your life doesn’t have to be as pathetic as it is,” she said offhandedly. “People with less have achieved more.”

  She gestured for me to follow as she moved toward the three figures. I moved around the other side of the table to join her.

  The first two figures were Nico and the woman, the dead one with the broken heart that he had with him in the storage room. They both looked limp, like they were hanging from hooks. Her eyes were closed, but his were just a little bit open, orange light flickering behind them as they watched me.

  “Why are they in the dark?” I asked.

  “You failed them.”

  “No—”

  “You failed them.”

  My face burned as I looked at Nico peering down at me. It wasn’t true. Maybe I failed the woman, but not him.

  My eyes blurred and I felt tears run down my cheeks. The little woman didn’t seem to notice or care; she just turned to the last one, the one that was still lit. It was that ugly, muscular woman, the mean-looking one with the short hair. The light over her got a little brighter.

  “I didn’t fail him,” I said, but the woman ignored me.

  “It’s time to call her,” she said.

  “Why her?”

  “Some are more open than others, and like it or not, there is a connection between you. Reach out to her now.”

  I was going to ask how I was supposed to do that when I didn’t know where she was and I didn’t even know where I was, but the woman just kept staring into my eyes, and after a couple seconds an image started to form in my head.

  “Focus.”

  The image took shape and I saw the mean- looking woman on a motorcycle, snow spitting past her as the collar of her leather coat ruffled in the wind. I thought I saw someone riding in back of her—a man—but it wasn’t clear.

  “Focus.”

  I tried to focus on her, but the woman with the needles kept pushing at the invisible barrier across the doorway. The thin threads of light that connected us pulsed, getting brighter and then fading as her thoughts washed over me.

  Help me, please help me. Get me out of here. They’re hurting me….

  A sound like electricity crackling came from her direction, and the lights flickered as her face clenched up. The thoughts got even more urgent, making the picture of the woman on the motorcycle fade in and out.

  “Your life can be much more than it is,” I heard the Asian woman say, “but only if you succeed here.”

  I tried to concentrate. If this woman knew where I was, then why didn’t she send someone to help me?

  “I have sent someone,” she said, like I had spoken out loud, “but that facility must be destroyed. Nothing can survive. If you cannot do this, then I cannot use you, and you will not survive either.”

  The electrical cracking filled the hallway beyond the door again, and the woman with the needles seized up like all of her muscles had contracted at once. Another wave from her hit me.

  “Focus!” the woman snapped. “If you fail here, it’s over!”

  I wasn’t going to be able to hold the image of the motorcycle if the signals from the other woman kept coming at me so strong. If I was going to do anything at all, I had to get her to stop.

  Usually I would concentrate on a person and I’d see colors, but this time it was like I had a direct connection right into her head. I reached out and pushed through the current toward her.

  When I found her, the colors finally appeared, only instead of being fuzzy patterns, they formed a crisp map where the different colors and shades were all distinct. I reached past the blues, the reds, the yellows, past the fear and the anger and the desperation and doubt. I reached past the thin halo, as deep as I could go until I saw a single hot, white band that was more concentrated than anything I’d ever seen in anyone before. It was as if all things were connected to it. This was the source of her energy, the source of her terror.

  With less effort than I expected, I concentrated on it, and like a valve, I turned it off. The flow of light through the band stopped and it went dark. All the colors followed immediately afterward, blinking out until everything was dark. The flow of thoughts stopped, leaving complete silence.

  “There,” I said. I looked over at the Asian woman and she was staring at me, this time with a different expression, her mouth parted a little bit like she was stunned. When I looked back to the doorway to see what the needlehead was doing, she had fallen to the floor and wasn’t moving. Any trace of light around her was gone.

  There wasn’t any time to think about it. I got the image of the woman on the motorcycle back. Sweat beaded up on my forehead. I saw the colors begin to appear.

  The colors formed patterns, and all at once I could read them. I reached out and with all the strength I could muster, I grabbed hold of her.

  Nico Wachalowski—New Amsterdam, Warehouse District

  Calliope had been reckless on the bike all along, but all of a sudden I felt a lurch as she throttled the engine and picked up speed. The road cleared as we raced beneath a monorail platform, and while the back tire kicked sand off the pavement, the front wheel almost came up off the ground.

  “Cal, take it easy!”

  We’d left the residential and business districts behind us, along with most of the patrols, a while back. The road ahead merged into a clover, which led into a series of open industrial-park areas, none of which looked like they’d seen much recent activity. Through the snow I could make out warehouses and cargo lanes, but they were all covered over now. We lost traction for a second as she hit the clover way too fast and veered down one of the off-ramps.

  “Cal!”

  There was a chain- link fence up ahead with a gate that hung open partway. She sped toward it, banking at the last second, and the bike tilted wildly. I gripped her waist in a death lock as slush sprayed up over me, and I heard the heel of her boot doing a high- speed scrape across the pavement. Somehow she righted the bike, and I pulled my knees in tight as we flew through the narrow opening in the fence. The blacktop disappeared under the snow again as she took us onto one of the lots.

  “Damn it, it’s too deep—stop the bike!”

  What was the matter with her? She couldn’t have any idea where she was going, not when I hadn’t even zeroed in on the exact GPS location yet. Over her shoulder, I saw that other vehicles had been here before us, and that she was taking us down a narrow trench formed by their treads. Every few seconds the bike fishtailed and she managed to right it. My chest throbbed and my stomach began to knot.

  I got a bead on the location and brought up the map. Somehow she was taking us in the right direction. There was a guard station in the distance, and a ramp leading down.

  You should be picking up a radio beacon about now, Sean said. I tuned to the frequency he indicated, and sure enough, it was there.

  Got it.

  Follow it.

  Up ahead, several large, dark objects were called out on the display.

  “Calliope, stop the bike. This is close enough!” I shouted. Things were going to start getting dangerous, and she had already gotten closer than I wanted her to. The dark objects were getting larger as we got closer, taking shape through the snow. They were definitely vehicles of some kind.

  I zoomed in on them, bringing them into focu
s; they were helicopters. Three of them, military choppers used for troop deployment.

  Sean, what’s going on over here? I’ve got three military helicopters. Who sent them?

  Hold on.

  He went idle for a minute, then dropped off completely. A second later, a new ID came in. It was Assistant Director Noakes.

  Wachalowski, where are you?

  I’m at the site, but I don’t see SWAT. I see some military helicopters here.

  I know.

  What do you mean, you know?

  I could see three revivor soldiers standing in front of the remains of an old guard tower. They had spotted us, and one of them was waving us down.

  When did they get involved in this?

  I’m doing what I was instructed to do. The word came down that this little rat’s nest you’ve uncovered is to be shut down immediately and completely. Stay out of their way and let them handle it.

  How can you say that? We’ve lost—

  This comes from high up. It’s not our place to second-guess them, Wachalowski. You’ve helped stop a significant terrorist threat. Just stay out of their way.

  “Son of a bitch!” Cal snapped. I looked up and saw the soldiers ahead raising their rifles.

  “Cal, stop!”

  Are you receiving me, Wachalowski? Why are you still approaching the site?

  Behind the revivors, I could see the remains of a thick metal curtain that had blocked an entrance ramp that led down underground. It looked like explosives had been used to blow the gate, and dozens of boot tracks headed past the guard station and down into the factory entrance.

  A shot rang out and snow sprayed off to my right. Calliope veered, plowing through the snow and coming out in a second set of tire tracks. Two more shots boomed through the air.

  Wachalowski—

  Tell them to hold their fire.

  Tell them how? I’m not—

  We were getting close now, way too close. We passed the helicopters and started coming up fast on the soldiers. They weren’t going to let us get much farther, and Calliope, for whatever reason, was not slowing down.

  One of them fired again, and this time it hit the bike an inch from my thigh, throwing sparks. It stared down the barrel, trying to get a shot.

  There was no more time. They weren’t people; they were just revivors. I held on to Calliope with my left arm and drew my gun. I fired two three-shot bursts and the revivor spun, then fell onto the snow. A second one tried to grab me as we passed, and I fired a shot that sprayed black fluid out of the back of its skull.

  “Cal! What are you doing? Slow down.”

  I could see muzzle flashes coming from somewhere down the ramp. She braked, and tipped the bike so that it began sliding sideways toward the entrance, colliding with the last soldier and dragging it. We bucked over the edge of the ramp and through the entrance, into the dark and out of the snow. The bike slid, pinning the soldier and throwing sparks as the exhaust pipes met the concrete.

  I lost my grip and fell off the bike, rolling across the ramp as the bike crunched into a parked car a few meters away. When I righted myself, I looked down to see a series of vehicles had been arranged to form a makeshift barricade in front of the entranceway into the factory. A group of revivors were pinned down behind the cars, firing at the soldiers who had taken cover behind the concrete pylons and were shooting back.

  I looked over to the bike and saw smoke trailing from it. It looked like the pinned soldier took the brunt of the slide. Calliope was moving again. She pulled herself out from underneath the wreck.

  “Cal, stay down!” I yelled, but she didn’t stop.

  Bullets were spraying the barricade and return fire was punching divots into the pylons, scattering tiles and concrete dust. Stray shots buzzed through the air, glancing off the ramp behind us.

  A roar filled the underground garage and the whole area lit up as I scrambled across the ramp toward her. Down where the fighting was taking place, one of the soldiers had stepped out from behind the pylon and turned a flamethrower on the barricade. Superhot plasma sprayed out in a directed cone and washed over the vehicles, peeling away the paint and causing the windows to blow apart. The upholstery ignited as the flames spilled over onto the revivors who were taking cover there.

  As the underground was lit by the fire, I saw that all soldiers were armed with flamethrowers. They were dressed in protective gear that included a black rubber hood with shielded goggles and long aprons to protect them from the flames. While another jet of plasma washed over the barricade, I reached Calliope and pulled her closer to the side of the car. Who the hell were these guys?

  “Get off me!” she grunted, pushing me away. There was a strange look in her eyes, almost like she was delirious.

  “Calliope, listen to me,” I said, trying to get her to meet my eye. “What’s the matter? What’s wrong with you?”

  Below, someone screamed, and when I turned I saw a figure engulfed in flames run out from behind the burning vehicles. Its flickering eyes stared out of a blackened face as it pulled off its long, burning coat and tossed it to one side. Several bullets punched through its torso as it ran for the pylons, and I could just make out the electronics and wires strapped around its chest before it met the group of soldiers.

  “Get down!” I shouted, pushing Calliope onto her back and covering her head as the bomb went off. The sound was deafening as everything was lost in a bright white flash. Through the spots I caught a glimpse of debris, blood, and body parts shooting through the air as at least two soldiers were caught directly in the blast. Shrapnel rained across the side of our cover, and I saw an arm attached to what looked like part of a rib cage glance off the divider and tumble into the shadows.

  “Cease fire!” an amplified voice shouted as the boom faded. “Stop! Cease fire!”

  Chancing a look, I saw that the order was being given because there was nothing left to shoot at. The barricade was still in flames, but there was no further movement behind it. The soldier who had given the cease- fire looked over his men, taking stock. It looked like half of them were down, maybe more.

  “File in,” he said, gesturing to the factory entrance. “We continue down.”

  Stepping over the bodies, they quickly reorganized, ducked through the flames, and headed through the door.

  “Let me up,” Calliope said, pushing me. I gave her some room and offered her my hand, but she batted it away.

  “You have to get out of here,” I told her. She stood up, still a little shaky, and stumbled out from behind the car. The carnage was sinking in. Her eyes were wide.

  She looked over the damage in front of her like she was taking the whole situation in for the first time. She took two steps, then got down on one knee.

  By the time I realized what she was up to, it was too late. She picked up the gun she had found and was back on her feet.

  “Hey!”

  She looked at me for just a second, and her eyes looked scared, but at the same time there was commitment there. Whatever she intended to do, and for whatever reason, she meant to do it.

  Without checking to see if the gun was even loaded, she sprinted down the ramp toward the factory entrance. I took off after her as she ducked past the flames and out the other side through the doorway.

  The vehicles that had formed the barrier had been forced back by the blast, one of them tipped on its nose and leaning against the wall, and the other on its back. In the burning carnage, I could make out a boot and what looked like an arm with a long blade sticking out, but nothing else was recognizable. Between the blast and the flamethrowers, the heat was incredible. Holding my jacket up to shield my face, I ran past and made it through the entranceway.

  Sean, are you there?

  I’m here, but it won’t be private.

  Who the hell are these guys?

  Special Forces. Someone internal had them standing by.

  Standing by for what?

  Someone wants that place buried, Nico. Get ou
t of there.

  Inside, the corridor went left and right. The soldiers were down the right passage, filing onto an electric lift that led down to the lower levels. A metal door a few paces to the left was just latching shut when I entered.

  That had to be her. As the lift carrying the soldiers started down, I pushed open the metal door into a stairwell.

  I’ve got a civilian down here and I’ve got to get her out.

  Nico, you’ve got Special Forces in front and another wave coming in behind you.

  How long?

  Minutes. They’re at radio silence, and they don’t know anyone else is there. I don’t know all the details, but the word is that they’re to erase any trace of that place. That’s going to include your civilian and you if you get in the way.

  As the door shut behind me, I caught a glimpse of Cal one flight down, boots clomping as she barreled down the steps.

  I know.

  My chest burning, I followed her down.

  Faye Dasalia—Factory Clean Room

  Draped in the blanket, I followed my killer down into the underground facility, while behind us the sounds of destruction raged. He didn’t look back as he led me deeper, into near-total darkness. An icon flashed at the corner of my eye.

  Adjusting light levels …

  We were walking through an office corridor. The walls and doors were covered in graffiti, and the whole area was littered with trash. Material for bedding was strewn about. People had taken shelter there at one time, but they had all been cleared out.