Deadlocked 7

by A. R. Wise

  “Well, you didn’t think he was going to make this easy, did you?” asked Harrison.

  “Come on,” said Zack. “We need to move. Laura, you’ll have the mask on, so you’re leading. Everyone else grab the waistband of the person in front of you. There’s a rear exit from the church, just off the room where the pilot is. When I came in, I was able to follow the tracks that the horde left in the soot on their way down. Stay low, and try to follow those tracks.”

  “You should lead,” said Laura as she tried to hand the mask back to Zack. “You know the way.”

  “No chance, darling. I’ll take the rear, in case we get separated. I think I could get any stragglers out. Now go. We don’t have time to argue.” Zack grabbed the handle with his bare hand, apparently confident that it was cool enough to handle now.

  Zack opened the door and forced Laura out. She stayed low and waited to feel someone’s hand on the back of her belt before she started to move.

  There were only a few feet of space above the floor that weren’t filled with smoke. There were bodies everywhere, chopped to silence when Zack first arrived, and she struggled to step over them. She could feel the heat of flames nearby, and saw the orange hue reflected in the glass wall to her left as she moved.

  The person behind her had a tight grip on her belt, but he let go to her horror, apparently to steady himself while crawling over a corpse, and then gripped her belt again. She found the door and knew to turn right. She tried to remember how far down the hall she’d ventured when she first discovered the cells, but she questioned her memory. The floor was coated in ash, and she could see faint tracks in it that she followed. Some of the men behind her coughed, but she forced them to push on as fast as possible.

  She made it to the room where the pilot’s corpse was at, and found that the man had been pulled off his makeshift pyre to the ground. When the horde rushed in, they probably gnawed on the fresh corpse until they decided to chase another meal. The pilot’s eyes were open, and the side of his face was torn off, leaving a ghastly half-smile for her to witness as she crawled past him.

  It was noticeably cooler in this part of the basement, but the smoke was just as thick. She could hear the pop-sizzle of rain drops that Zack had heard, and knew that she was close to freedom. That’s when the person behind her let go of her belt.

  “Hey!” She turned and blindly grasped for someone’s hand. Whoever had been behind her was gone now, and she started to panic. Then a hand grasped hers and she placed it on her belt before moving forward in search of the exit.

  The hand pulled at her belt. She tried to crawl forward, but the person was insisting that she stop. Laura assumed that she was being asked to wait for someone behind her to catch up, and she paused to let the group reconnect. That’s when the zombie’s face lunged at her through the smoke.

  When she grasped a stray hand to place on her belt, she hadn’t realized that it belonged to a Grey. The wizened face seemed to be all teeth as it went for her face. The creature’s eyes were rolled back, leaving only the whites to peer at her as the creature clawed and bit. She rolled to her back and thrust her arms up. Her left arm caught it by the neck and she pressed her right hand against the monster’s face to push it back.

  Laura wanted to reach for a weapon, but realized that the fireman’s outfit covered the meager weapons she had left. The Grey writhed above her and tried to dig its fingers into her mask. She moved swiftly to get her right thumb into the creature’s mouth while grasping its lower jaw with her left hand. She felt the Grey’s teeth pressing into her gloves, but the rubber was thick enough to protect her. Next, she ripped the creature’s jaw in half.

  Blood squirted forth like a split fruit, splashing black on her visor as she pulled the creature to the floor. The wound she’d inflicted would’ve killed a human, but this creature kept squirming, his fingers clawing at her throat even as his mouth gaped open, the lower jaw attached only on one side. She gripped the side of the zombie’s head and smashed it to the floor multiple times, until its skull popped open and the monster’s fingers stopped twitching.

  Laura took off the useless mask, the visor now blacked out with Grey blood, and yelled out to the others. “Zack! Billy!”

  “Go!” She heard Zack scream. “Just go! We’ll be right behind you.”

  “Where are you?” The smoke stung her eyes and seeped into her lungs. He sounded so far away.

  The thunderstorm erupted, a flash of lightning blaring to life even through the smoke at the same moment that the roar shook the floor. The momentary flash revealed that a door was open nearby. She screamed out, “We’re almost there. I can see the exit.”

  Another clap of thunder shook the walls. Laura crawled toward the stairs that led to the exit while yelling back to the others, “Follow my voice.”

  The smoke in the stairwell was thicker than anywhere else. It was like she was ascending a chimney as a fire blazed below, all the smoke rushing out and leaving her stuck in a suffocating tomb. She hadn’t been able to fill her lungs with fresh air before going up the stairs, and her lungs burned as she ran up. Then the smoke finally gave way to fresh air as she pushed her way out the rear exit.

  She got out of the church and felt the cold rain on the back of her neck as she crawled through the mud. She coughed, her lungs full of smoke, and wiped the wet ash from her eyes before looking back into the church.

  Her friends were still inside, caught off guard by Greys they hadn’t expected to encounter. They had relied on her to lead them out, and she’d failed.

  Laura got to her knees and screamed through the entrance, “Follow my voice.”

  The storm roared and another streak of lightning ripped apart the sky. The flash of white lingered as the bolt pulsed, and Laura saw the horrifying vision of the horde advancing upon the church.

  She thought about what Billy had said. The stove was definitely not turned off.

  Chapter Twenty-Two – See You Again

  Two years after the apocalypse

  Reagan has been captured, and is somewhere in the Nederland facility.

  Reagan had been cuffed, searched, beaten, and dragged into custody. His face was bleeding, his nose broken, and he discovered at least one tooth loose as he moved his tongue around inside his mouth. He’d been separated from Billy and Hero, and taken to another nondescript underground hall. The facility beneath Nederland was far larger than he’d thought. The area that the girl had been held in was only a small part of the massive base.

  This facility wasn’t meant as solely a military base. There were too many comforts here, something military men and women knew to forget about as soon as they signed on for duty; things like cushions on chairs, well lit corridors, and even a few walls with paint on them that wasn’t a muted green or yellow.

  Two soldiers were pulling Reagan along, forcing him to walk with his hands cuffed in front of him. They were quiet, but Reagan continued to taunt them.

  “I’m in the president’s suite,” said Reagan, a strand of bloody drool escaping his mouth as he spoke. “And make sure to bring my slippers and robe. Last time you forgot them and I got the chills.”

  “Shut up,” said the soldier to his right.

  “A man deserves his comforts,” said Reagan. “I like my slippers. What can I say? Also, make sure to have a few cigars ready.”

  “I said shut up,” said the soldier again.

  Reagan looked at the boy’s blue uniform. “That’s a southern twang you’re sporting there, kid. How’d you end up on American soil wearing a foreign uniform?”

  “We’re not supposed to let you talk,” said the boy. He was a strong young man, and reminded Reagan of Billy. “So you’d best shut your mouth before I shut it for you.”

  “Better men than you have tried, and I’m still talking.”

  “I’m not kidding, Grandpa,” said the soldier. “I’ll belt you again. Just keep on blabbering and I’ll shut you up for good.”

  Reagan was being held on either side b
y the two men, forced to keep moving lest they drag him along. He locked eyes with the young man on his right and then recited slowly, “Blabber, blabber, blabber. Anyone ever tell you your lips look like a swollen vagina?”

  “That’s it,” said the incensed boy. He let go of Reagan and moved back to get a better angle to punch the old captain.

  “Duke!” The other soldier yelled, but then Reagan took advantage of the momentary confusion. They had cuffed him in the front, and he had been planning his assault since they first started leading him down this desolate hall. He’d been taunting the boy, waiting for a reaction like this.

  Reagan spun and felt the soldier on his left struggle to keep his grip. Then Reagan wrapped his arms over the man’s neck and fell back against the wall, the chain between his cuffs stretched over the soldier’s throat.

  “Fuck!” Duke was shocked and staggered as he tried to decide what to do.

  Reagan felt the cuffs dig into his wrists as he held the soldier in front of him. He grinded the chain in the soldier’s throat as the man tried to strike Reagan in the side with quick elbow jabs. Reagan tensed his abs and absorbed the strikes, growling with each one as he kept his eyes on Duke.

  “Let him go or I’ll kill you,” said Duke as he raised his rifle.

  “You can’t kill me,” said Reagan. The man in his grip was choking, his strikes getting weaker each time as he neared unconsciousness. “For whatever reason, the people in charge want me alive. That’s why you went to so much damn trouble here.”

  “Let him go!” Duke put down his rifle and rushed to try and pull the chain away from his friend’s throat.

  Reagan put his knee into the soldier’s back and used the leverage to tighten his grip. Duke couldn’t get his fingers between the chain and his friend’s throat, so he resorted to trying to punch Reagan. Duke’s first jab missed as Reagan moved his head to the side, but then the young soldier decided on a new tactic. He tried to get his thumbs into Reagan’s eyes. Apparently Duke’s commanders didn’t care if Reagan was blind.

  Reagan squirmed away and pulled his victim with him, sliding down the wall and away from Duke. The young soldier moved quickly, ready to do whatever it took to save his comrade.

  “I won’t kill him,” said Reagan. “Back off and I’ll let him live.”

  “Let him go,” said Duke. “Now!”

  “Back off!” Reagan inched back while keeping his eye on Duke. Then he loosened his grip just enough to let the soldier breathe. The man was clawing at his own throat, desperate to get his fingers between the chain and his skin, and he started to gasp as Reagan relaxed his hold.

  “I could’ve killed him,” said Reagan. “Do you understand me, Duke? I’ve got no reason to let your friend here live. You understand, boy?”

  Duke nodded, scared and confused.

  “But I’m going to let him live. You know why?”

  “Why?” asked Duke.

  “Because I’m the good guy. I’m starting to understand what’s been going on here. They’ve been telling you that I’m part of the group that released the virus. Right?”

  “Yes,” said Duke.

  “Then you need to start searching for the truth, kid,” said Reagan. “Your leaders are liars. They’re the ones that released the virus, and now they’re trying to snuff out the rest of us that know it. You’re marching me to my death. I’ve got no reason to let this kid here live. But that’s exactly what I’m going to do. You know why?”

  “Why?” asked Duke.

  “Because I’m not the one you should be scared of.” Reagan released the soldier and pushed him to the ground, then stood and faced Duke. He winked at the soldier and added, “But you can still be scared enough to stop hitting me.”

  Duke stared at Reagan, but didn’t move to hit him. He approached his fallen friend cautiously, as if fearful of the snake nearby. “You okay?” asked Duke.

  “Fuck no,” said the man on the floor. “Christ. He almost killed me.”

  “Can you stand up?” asked Duke.

  “I can barely breathe,” the man coughed and rubbed his throat. “I think he crushed my esophagus or something. Fucking psycho.”

  “Get up, you pussy,” said Reagan. “Hurry up and take me to whoever the hell wants to see me. I’m getting sick of waiting.”

  “You’ve got some sort of death wish, old man,” said Duke.

  “No,” said Reagan. “Dying just doesn’t scare me anymore. Now get up and let’s get on with this.”

  Duke helped the other man up and they marched Reagan down the hall, this time staying a good distance behind. They led him to a room with a massive steel door befit with a locking mechanism that looked more suited for a submarine than an underground hallway. When they opened it, the change in air pressure hissed as a sterile lab was revealed.

  The white room beyond was decorated with lab desks, glass beakers, rumbling machines, and several men in lab coats. Each of them ceased their activity as Reagan entered, some with glass vials in their hands filled with smoking liquid, like mad scientists caught in the act.

  “Where’s Covington?” asked Duke.

  Reagan sneered, amused that they were still keeping up the act.

  “I’m here,” said a familiar voice from the far side of the room. A black man approached, tall and striking. He smiled as he approached, standing taller than the other men around him. He was wearing a lab coat, but his build was that of a warrior, not a scientist. “Hello Reagan.”

  Charles Reagan fell to his knee. For the first time in his life, his body failed him. He felt tears rush to his eyes as his heart raced. His muscles were weak, and his lungs seemed to forget how to breathe.

  “Jim?” asked Reagan as he looked at the man, no longer a forgery on a computer screen. Reagan’s son stood before him, smiling at his father.

  * * *

  August 24th, 20 years after the apocalypse

  Laura has escaped the church, but the others are still inside.

  The horde was closing in.

  The driving rain had squelched the flames, but the town still smoldered. Embers sizzled as the rain struck the ravaged church, the blackened beams still spewing white smoke and cracking, threatening to collapse any moment.

  Laura was on her back, sliding through the mud as she tried to get to her feet. The stars still glimmered above, as if a million eyes were glued to her and the rain was their tears. Lightning cracked again, streaking through the sky and revealing the clouds and smoke that were being pushed west, allowing the night sky a vantage on the horror.

  “Follow my voice.”

  The horde happily abided. They advanced from the street behind the church, probably caught in the midst of their escape from the flames. Now food enticed them, and they shambled to it.

  Laura debated running back into the building, but she knew the Greys would just follow her in. Even if she was able to find her friends, they would be trapped inside as the horde surged in behind her. She continued to scream, hoping they would follow her voice, while knowing that every Grey within earshot would chase after her.

  She turned to face the zombies with no weapon other than determination.

  The first to approach was a woman, lithe and frail, wholly different from Laura. The creature held out its arms like the Frankenstein monster of old cinema, and Laura grasped her wrists. She pulled the zombie down and thrust her knee into the creature’s chin, cracking its soft spine and nearly knocking its head off. She dropped the corpse to the ground and then stomped her boot through its skull.

  “Come on, mother fuckers. I’ll kill every last one of you.” She looked over her shoulder and screamed into the church, “Follow my voice out of the church!”

  Two large male zombies approached. One bumped into the iron fence that guarded the small yard outside the rear of the church, and the other stumbled through the gate and into the small playground. This must have been where the Sunday school children played, and Laura watched as the living corpse staggered to the plastic slide
and nearly tripped over it.

  Laura ran to the closer side of the slide and reached across to grab the zombie’s head. He reciprocated, grasping her arms and gnashing out at her, but she fell backward. She dragged the creature down and slammed his head into the edge of the slide, catching his open mouth and splitting his face nearly in half. She slammed her elbow into the back of the monster’s head to finish the job. The zombie’s teeth rattled on their way down the slide and plopped in the mud below.

  She was far from finished. The horde rushed to devour her and she ran to meet them at the entrance to the yard. She got there first, and swung the iron gate closed as the creatures growled and tried to reach over the short fence to catch her.

  The old fashioned, wrought iron fence had decorative spikes on top, which had been what killed Dante earlier. The zombies clustered in front of the fence, reaching across and swiping at her. She knew it wouldn’t take them long to get over.

  “All right,” said Laura. “Let’s do this, fuckers.” She backed away from the fence as the horde tried to climb it, and then ran forward and leapt at the closest face. She grabbed the zombie’s head and drove it down into the spike below, piercing the creature through its eye socket as she fell to her back in the mud, safe from the grasping claws of the other Greys.

  She got back up to do it again.

  “One by one,” she said and wiped her brow. “I’ve got all night.”

  Then the gunfire started. She was startled and ducked as the zombies on the other side of the fence started to drop. Laura looked back and saw Ben emerge from the smoke, Laura’s assault rifle in his hands.

  “Oh thank God!” She stayed low as she rushed back to the church entrance. Ben stopped firing when she got close and she asked, “Where are the others?”