by Jeannie Rae
A feeling of relief and worth swelled inside of Hank. He hadn’t wanted to leave The General Store, but Mary was gone now—and Joe and Kate were still alive. Making his rounds in that empty store after they left, Mary’s death had been all Hank could think of. And looking into her blackened eyes…
After taking the most direct route toward the lab and seeing the crashed SUV, Hank had made his best guess at which way they would have headed. From there he just followed the crowd.
Hank slowly passed Shotgun with a quick nod taking out all of the infected on the left. Shotgun focused his shooting to the infected approaching ahead and on the other side. Hank pulled past Joe with a similar gesture. Joe began shooting to his right as well, and out at the ones closest to Kate first. Hank sped past Kate, running two more infected down in the process. He pulled in front of her, and began to slow the pickup while eyeing the rearview mirror. This was the one and only time that he felt glad he’d never put back on that broken tailgate.
Kate hurried to the back end of the Ford. She leapt forward, landing on her belly, on the edge of the truck bed, her little hands groping for something to take hold of to get a grip. Hank could hear her frightening screams, but remained powerless to help her. Finally, she swung up a knee for leverage, using it and her arms to pull herself upright. Hank watched his mirrors as Joe and Shotgun were fast approaching. Glancing to the road ahead, Hank could see that there weren’t as many flocking to the street. By the time he turned his head back, Joe had already made it into the back, and was lending a hand to Shotgun, pulling him into the truck.
“You alright back there?” Hank called out the back window.
“Never better Hank. What took you so long?” Joe said nearly out of breath, wearing a wide smile.
“I thought you might need a hand. You just seem to have a thing for trouble,” Hank joked. “So how far is that facility? I am running on fumes here.”
“It’s a few blocks. We can’t go back the way we came, so we are going to have to figure out a new route. I know a place, ‘bout a mile away, where we can get some gas and regroup. You are gonna hang a right, four streets down,” Shotgun sighed trying to catch his breath.
With less congestion further down the street, Hank accelerated to get out of the hot zone, taking out those that stood in his way and others that darted out at the truck. After following Shotgun’s direction and passing several blocks, the road ahead looked noticeable clearer of the menacing creatures.
Traveling further from the treacherous crowd, Hank only caught glimpses of occasional fiends pursuing a victim or stumbling aimlessly on the street. He could see the high wall to the west, behind the houses on this street, and the colossal structure that is Angora, beyond. He remembered Shotgun’s words back at the store about there only being one entrance. As he looked down the street, it seemed as if the wall went on and on forever.
“How big is this place?” Hank asked out the window.
“It’s decent enough. Take the next right,” Shotgun pointed.
Hank could see the gas station on the corner of the next block. He pulled up to a pump, remaining in the cab with the engine still running. Joe hopped out of the truck with his weapon dangling off his shoulder, to tend to the gas pump, while Shotgun stood alert in the back, talking into a radio on his phone. Hank overheard him saying on the radio that it’ll be about twenty to thirty minutes until they reach the lab. Kate jumped out of the back of the truck and eagerly hopped into the passenger seat.
“I feel safer in here,” she pulled the door closed, the sound echoing through the deserted street.
She looked at Hank with wide, fearful eyes. Hank searched the street from all angles, looking for something to stir. This street remained quiet, when something caught his eye, as he looked at the window to the tiny convenience store. He had assumed the darkened store had been abandoned—but he was sure that something passed by the window. He sat still, eyes fixed on the storefront, waiting to see it again.
Unexpectedly, a thumping at his window startled him. He spun quickly to see Joe giving him a thumbs up.
Hank opened his door, “So what route should we take to get back over to the entrance?”
“Well, I think we need to talk about that. There’s a problem,” Shotgun motioned for Hank to get out of the truck.
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
Rhino surveyed the damage to the room, an overturned exam table, broken cabinets and medical supplies littered the exam room. He thought it odd that the room had sustained such destruction, yet both Roxy and Randy seemed unharmed, not so much as a visible scratch on either one.
“Boss you need to cool down man,” Rhino reasoned. “What’s up? What was that all about?”
Randy seethed, out of breath, and paced in a circle around the room. He slammed his fist against the wall, leaving behind a rough edged concave, and paced some more.
Rhino stood beside Boots near the door giving their boss the well needed time to cool down. Having worked with Randy for long enough to recognize when he was enraged, Rhino knew it would best to give him time and let him calm down on his own. Randy continued his pacing, until at last, sat in one of the chairs at the round table. He rested his face in his hands, his right leg rapidly thumping up and down.
Rhino turned to Boots, who limped on his good leg a few steps toward the corner, breathing awkwardly. Boots sweated profusely, his face was coated in beads of perspiration, looking more like he’d been the one in a fight. The front of his cotton shirt had become soggy, and his eyes were only opened about half way. He swayed, caught himself, and straightened up as if he were having trouble staying awake.
“Are we boring you here Boots? How’s that leg? I thought they got you all straightened out.” Rhino said with a hint on condescension.
“Huh?” Boots shrugged, swaying again, this time nearly falling over.
“Are you okay man? You don't look too good,” Rhino caught Boots at the wrist mid-sway.
Boots recoiled with a painful look in his eyes, pursing his dry lips and wrinkling his forehead. Rhino could feel bulked fabric at the wrist. Looking Boots with wide eyes, a disturbing feeling stabbed at Rhino. He tugged and pulled at Boots’ sleeve. Boots tried to protest, but in his weakened state, his effort proved futile. Rhino yanked up the sleeve to reveal the bloodied wrist wrapped in some sort of cloth—like a torn tee shirt. Rhino sighed, gritting his teeth as he pulled off the cloth. Revealed beneath were a couple of gauze pads taped to his wrist. Rhino wasted little time before ripping off the gauze, exposing a bite. Both the top and bottom teeth marks could clearly be made out, as a sickening stench began to emanate from the lesion. The scorched-looking skin around the bite looked nearly black, with mint-green puss oozing from the site. The grotesquely swollen wound revealed intense, red flesh that extended well up his arm.
"Son of a bitch! Goddamn it Boots, why didn't you say anything?" Rhino said chucking the rag and gauze on the floor.
Boots said nothing, hanging his head in shame and exhaustion. His posture looked like that of a defeated man, slumped shoulders, arms floppy and on loose legs. He swayed slightly side to side, as blood and puss dripped down his hand and fingers, trickling onto the floor.
“Boss, he's bitten,” Rhino shook his head. “When were you bitten?”
Boots stood silently, swaying with his head down, his chin to his chest. He stumbled backward and fell to the floor.
“Man, he's gonna turn. Boss, we have to get him to the Doc. She can give him the treatment she's giving Walker,” Rhino called out.
There was no answer.
“Am I all alone in here or what? Boss…Randy.” Rhino looked to Randy, who seemed to be in his own world still sitting at the table with his face in his hands. Rhino focused his attention back to Boots, who hadn’t moved since stumbling backward.
Rhino waited several moments, but his infected friend did not stir. He neared Boots with caution, keeping his hand on his gun. As he leaned close to his fallen friend, Boots lifted his head. Le
tting out a low grumble, he whipped his eyes open. Boots’ eyes—now blackened voids—fixated on Rhino's face.
Rhino could immediately see the change in Boots. Fine purple veins were appearing just beneath the skin of his fellow core member’s face. Rhino took a step back, pulling out his gun, when Boots sprang at him. Mid-step, Rhino lost his balance. They both tumbled to the ground, Boots landing on top of Rhino, and the gun sliding to a stop at the far wall. Rhino grabbed Boots' wrists, in an attempt to hold him back.
Boots spewed his rancorous breath, like a blanket of toxic fog, as he chomped his snarly teeth inches from his victim’s face. Rhino coughed and gagged as he tried to evade the rain of bites coming down on him, but Boots had become much stronger than before. Astonishment swept over Rhino as he legitimately had a difficult time keeping him back. Rhino’s hand repeatedly slipped up Boot’s wrist, as the blood and puss leaking from wound lubricated his hand. Losing his grip, Rhino released the wrist and reached for the bicep. In doing this, Boots caught a glimpse of the moving arm and turned his attention to the arm instead of the face.
As Rhino lay beneath Boots’ menacing mouth, he couldn’t help but think of how it all came to this. What started out as a simple training mission to retrieve four subjects, has completely spun out of control. Losing team members…core team members—were dying off left and right in this mess. Frustration and fury began building inside him like clouds gathering in a winter storm. He no longer wanted to be in the dark on this—orders are orders—but this was out of control.
As he struggled to keep back Boots, he felt blown away by his tremendous strength. No way was Boots this strong before, no way. The infection makes them hella strong. Randy needs to get over his crap and help me out here. Rhino’s anger began to slightly give way to fear, as Boots’ teeth grew nearer.
With Boots' mouth snarling, he separated his lips to reveal his darkened gums encasing bloody, rotting teeth. Opening his mouth, he dove his face toward Rhino's arm. Rhino knew if he let go, Boots would get his face, if he didn't, he'd get his arm. Unable to make a quick enough decision, he remained in the hold as Boots' teeth drew near. Just before they impacted the skin on Rhino's arm, a gunshot reverberated through the room. Boots collapsed atop Rhino’s shoulder.
Rhino quickly shed himself of his lost comrade and looked up, to see Randy standing at his left flank, still aiming the gun. He looked back down and could see that Boots’ blood had splattered all over his right arm and shoulder. He jumped up, rushing to the sink and began to clean himself off.
“What the hell were you waiting for Randy?” Rhino yelled. “He almost bit me, man.”
“Were you bitten?” Randy demanded raising the weapon to Rhino's back.
Rhino turned around and shook his head. He unbuttoned his shirt and pulled it off. His milky white skin, covered in a light layer of reddish-brown hair appeared undamaged.
Randy holstered the gun. “Let's get out of here, you need to change. We'll let the doc know that he’s in here. She can get someone to clean this up.”
CHAPTER SIXTY
Roxy’s body surged with energy from the adrenaline still pulsing through her. She stood in silence as the elevator descended to the second level. She knew about Randy. Playing back in her head the things that he said to her in that room, she knew that something wasn’t right about this place. She shifted her eyes subtly to Mara. Roxy realized that she didn’t ask near enough questions when she had arrived—not that it would have changed her situation much. There is something far more disturbing happening in this building—than their quest to find a cure.
“What happened?” Dave turned to Roxy, as the doors opened. His friendly face turned stone-like. His shoulders and arms became stiff, with his legs and torso reminding her of a tree trunk.
“Nothing. We should go,” Roxy's whispered. Her mind shifted to overdrive. She grabbed Dave's arm pulling him toward the elevator door, while eerily eyeing Mara. “Let's go—we’re leaving.”
“We can't,” Dave paused for a moment, studying Roxy's eyes, as they stepped off the elevator. “Your family should be here in twenty. Rhino said he heard them call it in over the radio right before he met us to go looking for you.”
Roxy felt like a shock wave gust through her. Her family was still safe, still alive. They had made it, and she would be reunited with them very soon. Finally. Her emotions turned to anger—at the hands that caused all this.
“Mara,” Roxy growled under her breath, as Mara strolled out of the elevator toward her.
“Are you alright?” Mara’s voice peaked, while her eyes floated to Roxy.
“I will be,” Roxy grumbled behind clenched teeth, before clasping her hand around Mara's throat. She slammed Mara up against the wall, in the hallway.
A firestorm built up inside Roxy. Frustration and animosity fueled Roxy’s actions toward this so-called-scientist. Mara has killed all these people. The serum administered to the patients at the clinic had been no accident—Roxy was sure of it—which could only mean that Mara intentionally caused the destruction of Port Steward and the people in it.
“Tell me Mara, what exactly you’re doing here. Do you think this is a game? People are dying out there, for what your little science experiment?”
“Roxy, calm down,” Dave yelled, pawing at Roxy’s shoulder.
“Stay out of it Dave. You have no idea what’s really going on here,” Roxy said, twisting Dave’s hand off of her and shoving him back, “Tell them Mara. You have been experimenting on people all along.”
“I...I... I don't know what you are talking about,” Mara wheezed, as she clawed at Roxy’s hand. “I only found out about the serum the other day, same day as the shots. I assure you—I had no intention of using it on humans.”
“What about Randy then?” Roxy questioned, squeezing her fingers slightly tighter around the throat, diminishing Mara’s oxygen supply even further.
“What…about…him?” Mara's words were barely audible.
Roxy looked into the bloodshot eyes of her prey, whose life would slowly slip away if she did not release her hold. She let go of Mara’s neck. Mara fell to the floor coughing and rubbing her neck, while leaning against the hallway wall.
Roxy looked down at her with cold eyes, “Tell me…about Randy.”
“I don't know what you mean. I swear I don't,” Mara pleaded between fits of coughing.
“He's immune to the virus—oh wait, he’s a carrier of the virus. Like me. He was infected a while ago, long before the flu shot clinic. So Mara, would you like to try again? And by the way, were you going to mention that I’m a carrier and not immune?” Roxy seethed.
“What? He can’t be. You are wrong. I mean, you must be mistaken,” Mara said rising to her feet, her hand still clutching her throat.
“I am not mistaken. I guarantee it. You said earlier that the odds of someone being immune or able to adapt to the serum were rare at best. So tell me doctor, what is a carrier of this disease doing working at Angora? And how is it, that sometime later, by accident this drug—that caused all this destruction—was mistakenly given to four patients? What are the odds Mara? Please explain to me again, how you know nothing about this? Plus, he said I was a carrier of the virus. What does that mean? Am I immune or a carrier?”
Mara sighed heavily, “You are a carrier. I only discovered this after examining your blood. The serum has adapted to you as it was intended, binding with your cells, causing them to mutate. Which is very interesting, I only wish that I could have examined your blood before you were injected. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed any changes in sight, hearing and strength?”
Mara raised an eyebrow, smoothing her fingers across her reddened neck, before not-so-subtly eyeing Dave, who also rubbed his wrist.
“As far as Randy goes, I can't explain it. It seems impossible. I need to get Randy down to my lab for some tests and to talk to him to find out what he knows. I’ll radio him, while you stay here on the second floor and wait for your family. I’m sorr
y I don’t have more for you. I will get to the bottom of this.”
Reluctantly, Roxy nodded in agreement as her nerves began to settle. Whether it had been the look in Mara’s eyes or the way she spoke, Roxy believed her. She left Mara in the elevator, before striding down the hall with the ladies in tow, toward the conference room to wait for her family. She resolved, that as soon as her dad and Kate arrive, they’d all leave this place immediately.
CHAPTER SIXTY-ONE
Shotgun clicked the screen of his sat phone, pulling up his GPS system. Refreshing the screen repeatedly, until he had a decent enough signal, Shotgun turned the phone with a map image toward the guys. Joe huddled in close to Hank and Shotgun to get a better view.
“Gotta make this fast, I’m losing my signal. Okay, so we’re here,” Shotgun pointed to a blue dot on the map screen. “It’s too thick with infected to go back the way we just came. So that’s this street, this one, and that one. The helicopter site is here.”
Joe looked at the rubberized cell phone with dismay. It looked like they would have to go a couple of miles back, just to get over to the downtown area to avoid the chopper’s crash site and the crowd they just outran. This would definitely take a while.
“Now the way I see it,” Shotgun continued. “We can either go back this way, or we can go around. If we go back, we’ll have to go all the way back to Fox Cove to cut over. If we go around, we’ll just follow the wall through the bottleneck, out of Port Steward. Route ninety-seven cuts across here and we can follow it back into town. We’ll be on the other side of the wall coming in. Then we’ll just take the junction to Ninth Avenue, follow it to D Street, and Angora’s gates are here.”
Joe thought either route would take some time. The benefit of going back and cutting over at Fox Cove was that they somewhat know what to expect. Raging savages and wreckage lined streets didn’t really seem the ideal route. If they took route ninety-seven, they would be on the highway. It would undoubtedly be backed up with traffic, from all the intelligent residents leaving town. Because of the bottleneck, they could get stuck there and not be able to move the truck, rendering it useless. Of the two routes, the latter would be the shortest and probably the safest, as long as traffic didn’t wall up the bottleneck.