by Mark Tufo
This was apparently a janitor, wearing grey coveralls and a name tag that I could not read from my vantage point. Had that tag been on his head rather than his chest, I’d have blown it apart.
“Hemp, DUCK!” I screamed, and he dropped down onto his haunches, the creature toppling over him rather than into him. It was like the old Dick Van Dyke show where the actor tripped over the ottoman and onto the carpet, only there was no comic return to his feet this time. Rather the thing flipped over and landed on its back looking rather surprised – if that was possible – to see me standing over it with my Daewoo.
The surprise disappeared when I blew hits head apart, inadvertently splattering Hemp with the thing’s brains and maybe the left eyeball.
I looked up again, and then over at Gem. She was eyeing me, too – there seemed to be a lull. Taking a quick count, it appeared we’d killed at least 22 of them, and gaining confidence and experience, we’d kept our ammo usage to a minimum.
Gem came over to where I stood as I held out a helping hand to Hemp. He took it and pulled himself back to his feet.
“Thanks,” he said. “I owe you one.”
“We’re gonna need a fucking calculator if we start that shit, friend. It’s on me.”
“I hope Trina and Max are okay,” Gem said. “Why did they concentrate up here?”
“More labs up here, plus the cafeteria and staff lounge is on this level,” said Hemp. “Makes sense, really.”
“But why right here?”
“Look at all the bodies,” I said. “All the uninfecteds. They obviously ran for the elevator, and perhaps some just couldn’t get in fast enough. A pileup at the doors, an attack from the abnormals, and the feast ensued.”
“This area became the food court,” Gem said, not smiling. “But some had to make it, right? Max can’t be the only one who got away.”
Hemp shrugged. “I don’t know if Max thought of it – but he’s got a PA system there where he can announce throughout all the buildings. I’m fairly certain the abnormals can’t hear and understand language, so he should start making hourly announcements saying where he is.”
“That could be his plan for after we leave,” Gem said. “But for now, we need to sweep the rest of this floor. Is there much left, Hemp?”
“I’m guessing most of the abnormals made their way toward the scent of food, but let’s stick together and go room by room anyway. If we find anyone else, we can escort them down to Max.”
“What if they’re infected and haven’t turned yet?”
“And Max?” said Gem. “What if he’s infected and . . . fuck this. You guys clear the floor. I’m going back to Trina.”
I nodded. She was right. I trusted the Max I’d met downstairs, but we didn’t know enough about this illness or virus or disease or whatever the hell it was to have any real knowledge about its gestation period.
“Go, baby. We’ll hurry this up and be back down. Got more ammo?”
She lifted her top and showed me her waistband – two more full magazines inside. “Got it,” she said. “See you boys down there.”
The elevator doors slid open again, having hit the creature’s legs that still protruded from it. Gem stepped in over him, and Hemp and I grabbed the thing’s legs and pulled it out of the elevator. Hemp then reached in, slid his card, and Gem hit the button for the second floor.
She waved, looked into my eyes with concern, and the doors closed. I hated that part. I hated any part where Gem wasn’t with me.
I did not want to lose her again.
Hemp and I continued our way through the third level. We cleared the cafeteria and the lounge, only having to use another twenty rounds combined. We encountered fourteen more abnormals, and all-told on that level, we had found twenty-four uninfecteds who had ultimately become sustenance for the afflicted.
We worked our way back to the elevator, and I looked again at the scene laid out on the landing. The smell was putrid and the floor ran wet with blood and raw, human meat. Entrails snaked out of abdomens, and grey matter of the abnormals whose heads we’d blown apart splattered everything. We had to be extremely careful not to slip in it.
As Hemp pushed the elevator call button, my eyes were drawn again to the two young women – well, formerly young women – that I had shot. Then my eyes went to the woman they had been eating.
But she was gone. Or more accurately, her body was gone.
Hemp approached and put a hand on my shoulder.
“Elevator’s here,” he said. Then: “Flex, what’s wrong?”
I turned to face him. “I don’t know how, but the woman these two were eating is gone.” I pointed at the bodies of the two abnormals I’d taken out. “There was a woman in a mustard –”
I never finished my sentence. Hemp reached toward me with his short but muscular right arm, grabbed my shirt and yanked me toward him. I was taken by surprise as the academic weapons expert sidestepped me and practically threw me inside the open elevator. As I hit the back wall, still in disbelief, he swung his K7 straight out and blew the head off the woman in the mustard pantsuit. When this was done, he looked at me as he held the elevator door open.
Hemp’s eyes were disbelieving. “She was dead? Are you sure?” He looked at her body and clearly saw the chewed hole in her side and back.
I nodded my head frantically. “She’s half eaten, Hemp. Yes, I’m sure she was dead.”
“Agreed, but she wasn’t dead just then,” he said. “Which means being eaten is only enough to spread the infection, not to actually kill. So we’ve got a job to do before we head back down.”
I knew immediately what he meant. We had at least twenty-five head shots to administer before we could get back down to the second level, check on Gem, Trina and Max, and proceed with our plan.
We got started. It was done in less than five minutes.
Everything was fine when we returned to the lab. The 2nd floor was still quiet, and Max hadn’t turned into one of them and eaten Trina or Gem yet. I could tell by the way Gem was hanging onto that Uzi that it was unlikely anyone or anything would get the jump on her.
After verifying that the girls were okay, Hemp and I moved back into the second floor hall. The south hallway led to a connecting tunnel that would once have taken you to Building #1, but the door at the end was closed, and we could smell fire. Building #1 must have been engulfed in flames by now. Since the tunnel was constructed entirely of steel and glass, there was little risk that the fire would spread to Building #2 from that point.
There were small offices and closets located here, and after searching them, we’d be finished with the 2nd floor. Storage closets on the left side and four offices, two on each side of the hallway.
“I’ll take the offices on the right, and you get the others. We’ll split the closets.”
Hemp nodded and pulled open the door to the office closest to him. I did the same. I flicked on the light, and saw movement from the corner of my eye.
I swung my Daewoo toward the far corner desk. “Stand up. If you understand my voice, you’re in no danger.”
I saw the tips of delicate fingers at first, then the hands, followed by arms in a white lab coat, blonde hair, and then a face. It was the extremely frightened face of a young woman on the edge of sanity. Her eyes wide, her lip quivering, she began sobbing when she saw me.
“You can put your arms down,” I said. I moved quickly around the rest of the small office, and saw nothing. When I walked to her and looked down, I realized what had sent her into a panic. One of the abnormals, a bullet hole cleanly in the center of its forehead, lay crumpled by her feet. It, too, wore a lab coat. The name tag on that one said Professor Anthony Mihalovich.
I assumed a guard had come in on a search while the woman was hidden, encountered the former professor, and had either become familiar with what had to be done to kill the creatures, or got lucky. Either way, this woman was alive, and not one of the abnormals because of that single bullet hole in Mihalovich’s head.
I took her arm with my hand and gently pulled until her legs involuntarily moved away from the thing. “Come on,” I said. “Come over here.”
She let me lead her, her head drooped, her eyes on the ground. I stopped about two feet from the door and stood in front of her. I lifted the young woman’s chin gently with my fingers. “Look at me,” I said.
She lifted her fearful face to mine. Her eyes darted back and forth, terrified.
“What’s your name?” I asked, softly.
“Cynthia Preston,” she said in a flat, monotone.
“My name’s Flex Sheridan and I’m here to help you. You’re going to be okay, Cynthia. Trust me on that. Now let’s get out of here.”
I met Hemp in the hallway. The adjacent office was vacant, and Hemp had already checked out the other office on my side. The closets also proved to be empty – nobody hiding there. But at least we had one more uninfected – one more hope for humankind.
But still the odds for our existence did not look good. The number of infecteds clearly outnumbered the others. And now that we knew the symptoms could be passed through a bite or perhaps even scratches, I was beginning to have my doubts about any sort of positive outcome.
But I couldn’t let Cynthia know that.
“We’ll have to examine you for cuts and scratches back in the lab,” I told her. “Don’t worry – there’s a woman with us who’ll take care of that.”
She nodded. We went.
“Floors two and three are clear?” asked Max.
Hemp nodded. “Yes. All clear. Now we just have to sweep the first floor, and hope the garage level is safe.”
Gem came back in the room with Cynthia Preston. She had been in a small office – all glass, but they stood behind some filing cabinets for the physical inspection.
“She’s got some small cuts, but not from human contact so far as I can tell,” Gem said. “No bites or scratches that might have come from teeth or nails.”
“Any headache?” asked Max.
“No, not at all,” Cynthia said. “I’m exhausted, but my head feels fine.”
She had clearly calmed down somewhat. Hemp and I had dropped her off with Max, Gem and Trina, then we’d completed the other hallway and room searches. Not many areas to get to without swipe cards, so if you weren’t in one of the labs when the transmutation hit you, you didn’t likely access one afterward.
“I’d suggest you stay here with Max. We’re going to set it up so he’s got power available to him for over a month, and there should be plenty of food. Nobody knows how long this will go on, but the CDC is the best place to be.”
She nodded. “I’m only an assistant, but when this started, I heard things. People I worked with were leaving, rushing home to check on their families. The main outbreak happened on the third floor, and some made it down and out and I guess to their cars.”
She sat heavily into one of the rolling lab chairs. “My mother is at home, taking care of my daughter, Taylor.” Cynthia began to cry and Gem sat in another of the chairs and rolled up beside her.
“Cynthia, honey, how far away is she? Where’s your mother?”
“Two miles,” she said. “She lives two miles west of here.”
Gem looked at me as she asked the next question. “Cynthia, how old is your daughter?”
I rolled my eyes.
“She’s eight.”
I tried to turn away from Gem’s glare. “We have a lot of work to do,” I said, knowing this wasn’t going to go well for me somehow.
“Flex, I’ll go. Trina can stay with Cynthia and Max, since both have already been checked out for cuts and bites – a quick run there and back. If her daughter and mom are okay, I’ll bring them back with me.”
Cynthia’s face looked grateful. “I have to go with you, please,” she said. Her eyes pleaded, too.
Gem wasn’t done. “I have a GPS in the vehicle, Cynthia. You give me the address and you don’t need to come. It is dangerous out there, and unless you’re experienced with firearms, you’ll be putting both of us at greater risk.”
“Babe, would you mind stepping into the hallway with me for just a moment?” I asked.
She obliged. I let the door rest against the jamb without latching, and spoke in a low voice.
“You know the odds are against both of them being okay, right? And if one or the other is infected, we can assume it’s over.”
“I didn’t assume you were infected. Or Trina. I came looking for you, which is what she wants to do, Flex. And if you don’t mind, I’d like to assume we’ll find them alive.” Gem stopped talking for a moment, looked through the wire-reinforced window in the lab door at Cynthia Preston, and then back at me.
“And if they’re not okay, at least she’ll know, one way or the other. That’s important.”
I shook my head. “I can’t stop you, can I? Even if I refuse you use of my truck?”
“I’ll just find something else to use.”
I wanted to laugh and kick her ass at the same time. Nothing had really changed, but looking at her now, her expression so defiant, I realized this was why I was nuts about her. Headstrong and a pain in the ass, but tough as hell and frightened of nothing.
So I kissed her. I pulled her face to mine and I closed my eyes and kissed the shit out of her. When I pulled away, her eyes opened slowly, and her mouth turned upward into a smile. She said nothing, but stared into my eyes.
“I know you’re smart and tough, but I just got you back,” I said.
She held both my wrists with her small, long-fingered hands. “And you won’t lose me,” she said.
“So you say. And I better not. But promise me you’ll convince her to stay here. I don’t want her to distract you and put you at risk any more than you will be. Okay?”
Gem nodded, then put her arms around my neck and pressed her lips to mine, softer this time. My lips parted, and I reveled in the taste of her, the softness of her mouth. We finished the kiss and I closed my eyes and rested my cheek against hers. “I love you, Gem. Make it fast, okay?”
She promised.
We went back inside, and Gem sat with Cynthia until the woman was nodding, tears rolling down her swollen cheeks.
She had agreed to stay and let Gem investigate. Gem wrote down the address and Cynthia’s mother’s full name. She jotted the name ‘Taylor’ down beside it. Her daughter. She produced a photograph from her wallet, taken from a purse she seemed surprised was still clutched in her hands.
“Take the Uzi and get plenty of spare mags from the truck before you head out. If you’re not back in an hour, we’re coming after you.”
Give me forty-five minutes.”
“Wait!” I called just as the door was closing. She stopped and I reached into my belt bag. “Take this. Its range won’t be the advertised 20 miles, but it should work for two to three.”
She took the walkie from me. “This place is well within that. Good. I like this.”
“You like it,” I said, smiling. “If you get into any trouble just hit that button and yell.” I turned to Max. “There are other gassed up vehicles in that garage, right?”
“Absolutely. They keep them full and ready to roll. You might be impressed with the selection.”
I turned back to Gem. “Okay, now that my brain is back in gear and I know we’ll have a way to communicate and come after you if necessary, get going and hurry back.”
The dog and I looked worriedly at the door as it closed. I looked from it to Trina, who was awake, but staring blankly at the floor.”
“Trini, I think it’s time to name that girl. She can’t go through her life as dog. What if you were only called girl your whole life?”
Despite her exhaustion, she smiled. “That’s silly, Uncle Flexy. Everybody’s got a name.”
I nodded toward the Great Pyrenees. “Not her. At least not one we know.”
She smiled. “I’ll think of something.”
“And while you’re at it, you should start thinking
about seeing if Max has a bowl to give her some water. And you should start thinking about names for the puppies, too.”
With that, she began looking around the room for much needed inspiration.
Chapter 223
Because we needed to leave Trina, Cynthia and the dog without a name with Max, we were acutely aware that we were without Gem and the firepower she provided. We’d brought enough spare 9mm ammo with us that we felt satisfied we had enough, but I grabbed the first axe I found in a fire hose cabinet, and Hemp snatched another when we reached a second station.
If we ran into any uninfecteds, they would absolutely shit their pants. I imagined what we looked like. No sleep in a full day, sweating, dirty, bloody and bruised.
And brandishing submachine guns and axes.
I looked at Hemp. “Did you see the movie They Live?”
We stepped into the service elevator that ran down to the garage level. “No,” he said. “Who’s in it? Anyone I’d have heard of?”
“Not a chance,” I said. “But there’s a great line in it.”
Hemp swiped his card, hitting the G button. The car began to fall smoothly. “And what’s that?”
I smiled. “I came here to chew some bubble gum and kick some ass. And I’m all out of bubble gum.”
“You Americans are all a bunch of John Waynes, aren’t you?”
I shrugged and we both managed a good laugh.
When the doors slid open it was into wall of zombies.
There. I said it. Fucking zombies. I could use respectable terminology when I was dealing with Jamie, but right now, it was the first thing that came to mind.
Rapid decomposition of their skin had turned it pocked, wrinkled and flaky, and as they pushed against one another to access the oversized cargo elevator, the dead skin flew into the air like tiny winged gnats.