I suppose the thing that freaked me out the most, though, was my newfound ability to see clearly in low light. I woke up one night to hit the latrine, and only when I was headed back to my cot I realized I hadn’t needed to turn on the lights to find my way. It was sort of like looking through NVGs, except everything was painted in shades of grey. In full daylight my color vision remained the same, but at night if there was even the faintest light source it may as well have been dusk outside.
Having said that, strangely I didn’t see much difference at all in my physical attributes. Speed, strength, explosiveness—none of it seemed any different than it did before. Captain Perez said it might be months before my body adapted enough to see improvements in those areas, but she seemed stymied by the fact that it wasn’t happening sooner. She did put me on a treadmill once, and from what we could tell I could run for days and not get tired. But besides my senses and increased endurance, the only other thing that changed was the rate at which I healed. Within a day or so after the treatments began, that incision that Wolf-boy had made over the deader bite was nothing but a faint pink scar.
Strangely though, the bite I had taken still bore signs of infection; or rather, the area around it did. The wound had closed up and healed, right along with the cut Bobby had made. But the venom marks were still there, looking like a bad tribal tattoo done by some shitty ink-slinger outside the post gates in Killeen. The lines ran out from the bite down to my hand, and up my arm well past my elbow. It didn’t hurt and I felt fine, better than I had in years. Hell, I felt like I was 18 again.
Despite how I felt, the Doc said it was something I should be concerned with, since it probably meant I was still carrying latent Z venom in my veins and that I might relapse at some point. She looked the strange marks over for the hundredth time and shook her head in disbelief.
“You know, in all the time I did research for the military we never did figure out a vaccine or a cure for Z venom.” She pointed with the tip of her pen at the marks. “And this here, what you have going on? I’ve never seen anything like it. The best I can tell is that some remnants of venom remained deep within your tissues; between the ’thrope blood and the treatments, your body has achieved some sort of immunological balance with the infection.”
After she’d finished her examination, I pulled my sleeve back down and looked her in the eye. “Meaning, I could start turning into a deader if something disturbs that balance.”
She rolled away from me on her swivel chair and crossed her arms. “Perhaps. The truth is, I just don’t know enough about what’s going on here to give you a definitive answer. I’m going to run further tests on the blood samples I took earlier, and I’ll let you know if I come up with any answers.”
“I have no arguments, but that’s the last blood you’ll be getting from me for a while. As soon as I collect my gear and some supplies, I’m headed for the Corridor.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea, but I really can’t do much to stop you. However, you’re welcome to take what you need from the supply room, mess, and armory before you go.”
I flashed a wicked smile at her as I buttoned up my shirt. “Why, Captain Perez, I had no idea you cared.”
She frowned at me. “I don’t, but if you die out there that means I’m back to square one. So don’t get yourself killed—if you do, I’ll personally track down your deader corpse and do research on you until there’s not a scrap left to dissect.”
I batted my eyes at her. “So you really do care, after all.” She simply shook her head in response and went back to her charts, but as I ducked out the door to find the armory, I could hear her muttering curse words in Spanish all the way down the hall.
· · ·
The Facility was well-hidden underground in a hive of tunnels and rooms that I suspected ran all over what was once Camp Bullis and Camp Stanley. This place had Christians In Action written all over it, and I was certain that The Company had played a large role in both creating and funding the research that had gone on down here. The whole place was entirely self-contained, with electricity running from a combination of solar, geothermal, and hydroelectric energy sources designed for redundancy and reliability during an emergency like the one we currently faced.
I had found out that part of the reason for those redundancies had to do with the fact that The Facility held all manner of nasty occult life forms in cold storage, off in a sector that Captain Perez told us was definitely off-limits. I couldn’t get her to tell us anything more about what was in there, other than to say there were things in there that not many people had seen and that nobody would want to let escape. I left it at that, considering that I had enough to deal with in taking out the Corridor Pack. I knew how to choose my battles, and how to avoid creating new ones unnecessarily.
The section of The Facility that we were currently in was where the Doc’s former research team had spent most of their time. I asked her what had happened to the rest of her team, and she just shook her head and said they were all gone. It seemed a little suspicious to me that out of all the people it once took to run this huge facility, the Doc was the only one left down here after the bombs dropped. I mentioned this to her, and she explained that there had been more personnel down here at first, but that one-by-one they’d all split to go after family members and loved ones until she was the only one left. I asked her why she never did the same, and she simply replied that the Army was her family. I knew the feeling, and left it at that.
The Facility itself was quite the warren of tunnels, and walking through it reminded me of a TV show I saw once about a guy who had purchased an old Cold War missile silo. The interior of that silo had looked a lot like this place: lots of concrete, exposed pipes and conduits, light fixtures that looked like they were salvaged from a World War II naval destroyer, and lots of grey and green paint. And while I could complain about the decor, I couldn’t argue with the accommodations.
For one, the place stayed at a constant temperature of around 68 degrees Fahrenheit. Moreover, the mess hall was well-stocked with all manners of storage foods, and the water supply was fed by an underground stream and filtered by a multi-stage reverse osmosis and distillation set-up that’d put any serious prepper to shame. There were two large barracks rooms with roughly twenty racks and some smaller rooms with pairs of twin beds as well, complete with Army issue sheets and wool blankets, reminding me of the barracks we had in Army basic training and AIT.
It didn’t take me long to find the armory, since Gabby had already clued me in about where everything was in the place. It had obviously been depleted by the gradual exodus of personnel that the Doc had described to me, and I counted eighteen empty rifle racks out of a total of forty spots along the wall. The remaining spaces were occupied by thirteen M16A4 rifles, three FN SCAR-L rifles chambered in 5.56, and two FN SCAR-H rifles chambered in 7.62. There were also assorted sidearms along the short racks, which included a mix of Glock 19s, Beretta M9s, and M1911A1 pistols.
I noticed some metal cabinets that were locked as well, and after the judicious application of some tools I found lying around I managed to pop them both open. In one, I found an assortment of ammunition and magazines to compliment every weapon in the armory. In the other, I found something that nearly stopped my wicked little hunter heart; it was a pair of HK MP7 machine pistols, complete with several boxes of ammunition and half a dozen or so spare mags. I opened one of the boxes and pulled out a 4.6 x 30mm cartridge. As I had suspected, these were no ordinary rounds, but hollow points that had been modified with copper-jacketed silver ammunition. Pricey, stylish, and just the accessory for the modern werewolf hunter on the move. I’ll take two to go, thank you very much.
Along with the goodies I’d already found, I noticed that my gear was here, as well as the ordinance I’d brought with us from Kara’s place. The .50 cal sniper rifle and the Stoner had both been cleaned and serviced and then placed back into their cases. I suspected Gabby had been at work h
ere, and made a mental note to zero-in the light-fifty at the firing range before we left. Feeling in my element, I sat at the armorer’s bench and began breaking down the weapons I intended to take with us, including the Barrett and the Stoner. I checked each for function cleaned them thoroughly, reassembling each weapon and making certain they were fully functioning and well-oiled.
Gabby soon walked in, whistling some tune that she’d likely picked up since arriving here. Captain Perez had quite the collection of 80s and 90s CDs, and she’d been introducing Gabby to hair band music and grunge of late. The kid seemed to like it, but no amount of explaining could satisfy her on the issue of why some of the bands dressed the way they had on the album covers. The Doc had finally given up, and told her to just enjoy the music and not think so hard about things that were inexplicable.
Bobby, on the other hand, had found a CD by some sitar player, and had spent the last day and a half trying to convince Gabby that it was far superior to the hard rock and metal that she’d been listening to. I honestly sort of liked the faster sitar music he’d been playing, but the slow stuff just made me want to fall asleep. Gabby agreed with me, and we had both voted down the Indian artist in favor of The Foo Fighters’ and KISS’s greatest hits. Long live rock and roll.
Gabby jumped up on the table next to where I was working, lightly enough so that nothing I was doing was disturbed. “So, how you feeling?”
She was referring to the treatments. I shrugged. “So far I haven’t gained much of any benefit, except the ability to smell Bobby from all the way down the hall and hear the roaches in the walls. I never realized how much he smells like a wet dog.”
She laughed and held her stomach. “Oh, wait until I tell him that. He says that it’s not a good idea to use the soap here to bathe, because the smell will stay on us and make it easier for the werewolves to track us when we leave.”
I nodded. “He’s right, you know. But that’s nothing that a little animal urine won’t fix.” She made a face at me as I snapped the pistol I was working on back together, grabbing another matching weapon from the bench beside me and handing both to her, grip-first. “Here, see how these feel in your hands.”
They were a pair of Glock 19s, which were probably the perfect pistol for her at the moment. The grips were larger than the .22 she’d been shooting, but they had great ergonomics and the recoil was minimal. I’d also rustled up some MOLLE gear for her, along with some holsters for the Glocks and magazine pouches to match. I’d found similar gear for myself, but at the moment I was lamenting the loss of my battle-hatchet and my combat Bowie. I decided it’d be too much of an insult not to go back to the militia compound and get my shit, and also figured it’d be a good trial run to see how I’d fare with the minor upgrades the Doc’s treatments had provided me.
I looked at Gabby, who was sighting down the barrel of her new pistols. “So, whaddya think?”
She nodded enthusiastically. “Oh yeah, these’ll do.”
“Hang one to that little .22 though; I intend to machine a silencer for it at some point. Besides, your uncle gave it to you.”
She nodded again, more thoughtfully this time, and looked at me. “You look like you’re up to something.”
“I am. You up for a night mission?” She gave me a thumbs up, an anachronism she’d picked up from hanging out with Bobby. “Good. Then go get the mutt and let’s see about getting some payback.”
· · ·
I’d decided against an all-out assault, not only because we were out-manned and out-gunned, but also because there were some good people in the compound and I didn’t want them to get hurt. It wasn’t their fault that they’d fallen in under a loony commander; people did what they had to do to survive after They came, and I understood that as well as any. The plan was simply that we’d infiltrate the compound silently at night, grab my gear, and leave a present for the colonel. If everything went as planned, they’d never know we were there until we were long gone.
It took us no more than an hour to jog to from the Facility to the compound. I had to admit, the increased endurance I’d developed was a welcome benefit. I stopped Bobby and Gabby about a half-mile from the compound. “Wait here, I’ll be back within the hour.” They nodded, and I slinked off into the darkness, my night vision accommodating to the lack of moonlight. I was still conflicted about the long-term effects that these treatments might have on the gene pool of the remaining human race, but what was done was done. And while I might eventually decide that it was too much risk to bring anyone else on board, so far I couldn’t help but to think that my fears were unfounded.
I took off at a sprint for the pit where they’d left me to die, arriving beside the ramp within minutes, barely winded at all. I climbed the wall and peered over it, careful not to let the deaders down there notice me. All I needed was one. I waited until a loner separated itself from the rest. It was a long-haired woman of indeterminate age, perfect for what I had in mind. I secured the rope I’d brought to the top of the wall and used a dulfersitz rappel to quickly get down the wall, landing within a few feet of my target.
Strangely, when I arrived at the bottom of the pit she turned at the movement, sniffed, then ignored me completely. I was baffled at this and noticed that the other deaders were likewise ignoring my presence. Curiouser and curiouser, I thought. I stayed up against the pool wall, close to the rope should I have the need to get out quickly, but the deadheads continued to completely ignore me.
I noticed how they tended to bump into and ignore one another as well. Could it be the infection that causes them to mistake me for a deader? I wondered. Deciding to put my hypothesis to the test, I moved with caution toward the female deader I’d targeted when I dropped in. As I closed the distance she continued to ignore my presence. I walked around her in circles, and while her eyes may have followed me once or twice, she made no attempt to attack. Well, this could prove handy at some point.
Fascinated but short on time, I decided to take care of business and do what I had come to do. I pulled out a burlap potato sack I’d found in the mess earlier and drew the kukri from the sheath at my belt. I’d spent a considerable amount of time cleaning and sharpening it while I was convalescing in the sick bay at the Facility, and it was sharp enough to shave hair. I separated the deader’s head from her shoulders with two clean swipes of the blade. I wiped the blade on her clothing, popping her head in the bag. With a quick look around, I began to climb back up the wall.
· · ·
4
YELLOW
As I grabbed the rope, I heard the moaning increase behind me and turned to see that I’d finally drawn the attention of the remaining deaders in the pit. They looked around, increasingly agitated, and at least one of them had zeroed in on me. I saw that one break away and begin to shuffle in my direction.
Looking up the rope, I realized I’d never make it up in time. I dropped the burlap bag and drew the kukri in one hand and a Glock 19 in the other. As the deadhead closed in on me, I parried a lunging grab while V-stepping to my left, hacking at the hamstrings on the front of the thing’s near leg as I allowed it to lunge past me. Immediately I brought the blade back around and buried it in the deader’s spine at the base of the skull.
Kicking the creature’s back off my blade as it fell, I turned to see the remaining three deaders coming at me in a rush. I fired off two shots, hitting one of them in the forehead and the other just below the nose in the center of the face. Both shots stopped them, but the third deader was already on me by the time those two began to fall. I backed up at an angle, not wanting to trip on the corpse behind me, and brought the kukri around in a circular flourish that took off one of the deader’s hands in a single swipe. I checked that arm at the elbow with the pistol, keeping the deader from turning to face me fully, bringing the blade back around for an overhand cut. I sunk the blade into the thing’s temple a good six inches, and lost my grip as the creature dropped.
On instinct, I looked around for more threa
ts, but I was now the only thing moving in the pool. I stepped back and leaned against the wall, then did a quick head to toe assessment for injuries. Not a scratch. I did a quick replay of the encounter I’d just had in my mind’s eye, knowing that knowledge gleaned from the previous events could be crucial to my survival in the future.
I could only surmise that the deaders could somehow sense that I was carrying Z venom in my veins, and while that made me less of a target to them, it didn’t make me completely “invisible,” if that were the right word. For the most part, they’d been happy to ignore me until I started attacking them. This pointed to at least a rudimentary reasoning ability on the part of the deaders, as they modified their attitude toward me based on my aggression toward them. Getting ignored by deaders could come in handy, but I’d have to be careful not to rouse them from a holding pattern, especially in large groups.
Another thing I realized in breaking down the fight was that everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Rather, I had been picking up on movement faster, staying two and three steps ahead of the deaders during the whole fight. I’d never experienced anything like it. Typically you get tunnel vision immediately following an adrenaline dump, but instead my senses had opened up to take in everything around me.
That being said, I knew that I wasn’t physically faster than I was before the treatments. I just reacted faster, and the only thing I could come up with was that my perception speed had increased. These were all things I could discuss with the Doc when we got back to the Facility. But for now, I had a mission to accomplish and I was wasting time thinking about insignificant details when I should have been heading back to the wonder twins. Those two knuckleheads were sure to get into trouble without me, so I picked up the burlap sack and sprinted back to where I’d left them.
THEM (Season 1): Episode 4 Page 3