Safe Zone (Book 2): The Descent

by Suzanne Sussex

  They look at each other, and a signal passes between them. Without a word they head in the direction the “Research and Development” sign is pointing.

  “Guys, you’re going the wrong way,” I call out to them.

  “Doesn’t hurt to look, you never know what goodies an R and D department may have,” Joe replies.

  It wouldn’t have occurred to me to loot that area, not when our target is so close. I guess years of going out on raids has given them a sixth sense about these things. So I begrudgingly turn my pack on our promised treasure and follow them.

  The R&D department is up a single flight of stairs and appears to cover the entire floor. The area is split into different rooms, each labelled with the topic under research.

  The inner wall of each room is made of glass, and each is similar in appearance. Metal workbenches are stacked with unfamiliar equipment, some have cages with skeletons of dead animals in, no doubt left to starve during the outbreak.

  There are no signs of any disturbance. No bodies. No blood. No zebs. It’s creepy. It’s as though everyone fled during the outbreak but didn’t make it any further than the car park. It’s odd. I think back to the gate. I never tested it to see if it was locked. Did someone lock those poor employees in with no means of escape? But then why would they not have hidden in the building? Unless the building door had been locked too. But then why was it unlocked today?

  “Annie, in the old days, did doors used to lock on their own?” I ask, although even to me, the question sounds dumb.

  She stops and turns to look at me, brow furrowed as though confused by the relevance of the question, “Yes, some doors were controlled by electricity. You would have a swipe card or maybe a passcode to access,” she pauses as though waiting for me to gather my thoughts.

  It doesn’t take me long, “So when the power went out, the doors would be unlocked?”

  “Yep, safety reasons, same as if there was a fire,” she says.

  “And, could you stop the swipe card access … I mean like prevent anyone even with a card to access?” My mind is racing at a million miles an hour.

  “I guess so, why do you ask?”

  “Because …” I hesitate, “It seems to me that the zebs outside may have worked here, and when they tried to flee, they were trapped in the carpark on purpose.”

  “Why would anyone do that?” Annie asks in a manner that indicates she already has an answer.

  I think on this. Why would you sentence innocent people to their deaths?

  “I guess either to create a zeb barricade to discourage people from looting the building, or … because they didn’t want the employees to get away.”

  “But why?” Annie prompts.

  It hits me like a punch in the gut, “There’s something in here that they’re hiding.”

  She smiles, “Exactly, although it looks like they never came back for it.”

  “Maybe they didn’t survive for long enough?” I add.

  “Mmm, could be, I guess we’ll never …”

  “Holy fucking shit balls,” Joe shouts from down the corridor, interrupting Annie. We sprint up to him. He is staring into one of the glass rooms, mouth wide open and eyes wide. He lifts up at hand and points at the faded marking on the door; ‘ZN-134.’

  “Fuck …” Annie exhales.

  I look at their expressions and then back to the room. Except for a massive pile of boxes stacked to one side, it looks no different from the others. “What?” I ask.

  “ZN-134 is the virus that created the zebs,” Annie states breathlessly.

  “Eh? I thought it was called the Black Flu?”

  “It was, but the official scientific name was ZN-134, and they must have been researching it here,” Joe answers. He reaches tentatively towards the door handle as though scared to touch it. When his fingers make contact, he pushes down on the handle and the door swings open with a creak.

  Annie and Joe seem apprehensive about going inside, as though they’re entering holy ground and are not welcome. I have no such misgivings, and I push my way past and step through the doorframe.

  The metal workbench is full of clutter, paper scattered across it, the writing faded over time and barely legible. The words that I can make out make no sense to me, so I ignore them and walk over to the pile of boxes I saw through the glass. They are stacked to waist height, and I count nineteen boxes in total, with one box open as though it was still in the process of being packed.

  I peer into the open box, which contains rows and rows of small vials. Carefully lifting one out, I read the tiny label printed on it. It contains little text, just a mixture of letters and numbers, “ZN-134 V”.

  “Um, Annie, Joe, I think you should see this,”

  They join me at the boxes, and I hold up the vial.

  “Shit…” Joe exhales.

  “Could this be the cure?” I ask excitedly, “Should we take it?” I use my nail to scratch away as the small bit of plastic sealing the vial shut.

  “NO,” they both shout at me, making me jump.

  “We don’t know what it is,” Annie states.

  “But it has V written on it, it must be the vaccination,” the excitement is growing, images of us returning to the zone proudly telling everyone we have the vaccination. We’d be considered heroes.

  Annie brings me back down to earth with a thud, “V could also mean virus,” she reminds me.

  “Oh… right,” I flush with embarrassment.

  “We need to get these back to the zone and find someone that knows how to find out what they are.” Joe says, and Annie nods in agreement, “Until we learn more, we say nothing about this to anyone. Including Simon, Tom and Andy. Agreed?”

  “Yes,” Annie and I say in unison.

  Joe picks up two boxes, ready to carry them outside.

  “Wait,” I say and dash over to the workbench. I gather all the paper up in my arms, trying to keep it in the same order as I found it. I dump it in the top of the open box.

  “Just because I don’t understand it, doesn’t mean someone else won’t,” I say with a shrug.

  Chapter Ten

  Blood dripped steadily onto the hard floor, collecting in a small pool that encircled the wooden chair leg. Brian regarded the two broken bodies tied to the chairs dispassionately, “Ready to publicly admit where you are from yet?” he asked them. His tone was pleasant, as though enquiring about the weather.

  The woman raised her head and squinted at him through swollen bruised eyes, “No,” she said, then spat at him. A ball of bloody saliva landed by Brian’s feet. Repulsed by her actions, he leapt forward and punched her in the side of her temple. Her head fell to one side, and her body went limp.

  “Joan,” the man next to her whimpered pathetically.

  Brian snapped his eyes to the feeble looking creature in the next chair, “How about you, old man? Want to stop me from hurting her? You just need to tell me where you are from.”

  Stan shook his head vehemently, “We won’t be pawns in whatever game you are playing.”

  “Okay,” Brian shrugged, “Wake her,” he instructed Gary, who was standing behind the pair.

  Gary nodded and threw a bucket of water over the slumped woman, wincing at the waste of the precious liquid.

  Joan coughed and slowly opened her eyes, “Nice to have you back with us,” Brian said, moving to stand directly in front of her, “I can do this all day, you just need to say the word, and I’ll stop.”

  “Okay,” Joan croaked, “I’ll say it.” Brian smiled with satisfaction and leant in closer, this was easier than he’d thought it would be, “Fuck you,” she said and launched her head forward catching him on the bridge of his nose.

  “You fucking filthy whore,” Brian shouted in rage, holding his nose. He could feel his own blood cascading from his nostrils to join the mess on the floor, “Kill her,” he demanded. Gary nodded and drew his knife. Grabbing the woman by her hair and forcing her head backwards, Gary positioned the knife on her bare ne
ck.

  “Wait,” Stan moaned, “Don’t kill her, we’ll do it,” fat tears fell from his cheeks as he spoke, his body sagged back into the chair, as though his spirit had been broken.

  “Stan, no,” Joan begged, “Let them kill me.”

  Without waiting for the order, Gary released her head and stepped quickly over to Stan.

  He held the knife at the older man’s throat. Brian smiled.

  “You want us to kill you? Well, how about if we kill him instead?” he asked Joan.

  Gary’s action had the desired effect, and Joan too sagged down in the chair.

  “No,” she whispered, “We’ll do it.”

  Brian laughed wickedly, “Thought so.”

  Two hours later and the entire zone lined the streets outside the main square. Row upon row of men, women and children stood as though waiting for a carnival to pass them by.

  Those that could not fit on the main square stood further up the road to watch the grisly procession pass, then they merged into the streets to follow the parade from a safe distance. Everyone was keen to hear the important announcement that was to be made.

  The man and woman staggered up the road, pulled by the ropes around their necks attached to a horse. If they stumbled, they would be dragged along the floor, but despite their bodies being weak and bruised, they remained upright.

  People shouted abuse at them, spitting and hollering.

  Now and then the braver spectators would dash forward and punch one of the captives, earning whoops and cheers from the crowd.

  Brian observed the scene from his position on a horse that slowly trotted behind the duo. Due to the solemnness of the situation, he kept his face impassive, but inside he was beside himself with excitement. The days since the earlier confession that they had sabotaged the water supply had not dulled the hatred the zoners felt for this pair. The loathing was apparent, and he hadn’t even played his ace yet.

  The macabre procession ended on a hastily erected stage outside the town hall. Brian dismounted from his horse and approached the two being held by Gary and his son Matty on the stage.

  Standing at the front of the stage, Brian cleared his throat and began the speech he had been practising all morning.

  “Fellow residents of Zone G. Friends,” he spread his arms wide in a welcoming gesture, “Today I have learnt news of great importance. Our way of life is deliberately threatened. Not by nozos or zebs, but by the people we once thought of as allies.” Stepping back, he turned to Stan and Joan, and he said loudly, “Tell them where you are from.”

  Pushed forward by Gary and Matty, the pair were forced to the front of the stage.

  “Zone E,” Stan whispered, head hung, but his words did not travel.

  “Pardon, I don’t think anyone heard you,” Brian prompted.

  Joan looked at him with hatred blazing in her eyes, “Fuck you,” she whispered.

  Brian smiled and nodded at Gary and Matty, instantly knives were poked into the base of the captive’s spines, “One word from me and your spinal cord will be severed. I will then personally take you out of this zone and leave you for the zebs to find you. It will be hard to run if you are paralysed.”

  Stan lifted his head and faced the crowd, making eye contact with people in the front row, “We are from Zone E,” he bellowed loudly. The gasps from the audience were audible. As the message was passed to those that could not hear, noise rippled through the crowd like a wave.

  “That’s right,” Brian shouted, “Zone E plan to destroy us, to force us out of our homes. To take this zone for themselves,” he paused, to allow the message to get to the back of the crowd. Angry voices rose in a crescendo, the mob baying for blood, “But we will not let that happen, will we?”

  “No,” voices in the crowd chorused in response.

  “We will fight them until our last breath, won’t we?”

  “Yes,” came the shouted reply.

  “Let’s destroy them,” one man shouted from the crowd, his suggestion greeted by cheers.

  “Start with those two, kill them,” another voice suggested. This proposal gained unanimous support, and a chant broke out, “Kill them, kill them.”

  Brian waved his arms to silence the noise, “Friends, while I would dearly love to exact revenge on Zone E by killing two of its spies, we must not let our passion get in the way of reason. We have something Zone E do not. We have their people. Killing them would only weaken our position.”

  The crowd cheered as though mere seconds earlier they had not been desperate for blood.

  “We need to be able to defend ourselves. Therefore from noon today, every able-bodied man, woman and teenager, will take combat lessons. Everyone who is able to fight is permitted to stop work at midday for these lessons. we must ready ourselves for war.”

  He roared the last word, and the crowd erupted. Fists pumped the air, friends patted each other heartedly on each other’s backs.

  Brian turned away from the crowd to hide his smile. This went better than he had dreamed. The zone was angry and ready to fight. Perfect.

  “Bring them to my office,” he instructed Gary and Matty. and stalked away into the building. He paused at the front door and turned once more to the crowd, lifting his clenched fist into the air. He could still hear the crowd cheering as the heavy oak door slammed shut behind him.

  He rubbed his nose, it wasn’t broken, but it was sore and already beginning to bruise. He might need them alive for now, but he could still teach that whore a lesson.

  He was sitting on top of his desk, grinning broadly when Gary and Matty pushed the two prisoners through the door.

  “Thank you, Matty, you may leave now,” he instructed the younger man.

  When the door was closed, he rose from his desk and approached Joan and Stan, “Now that was easy, wasn’t it?” He smiled.

  “You know we were just here on a routine trade visit. Zone E does not have plans to harm you,” Joan told him, defiance blazing in her eyes, “When your people find out you lied, they will kill you,” she let out a hollow laugh, “I hope I am around to watch.”

  “Oh, my dear," Brian smiled down at her, "How will they find out? Gary here is a loyal friend, and no one will believe you,” he smiled coldly at her. “It would appear, however, that you have not learnt your lesson,” She flinched from his touch as he gently stroked her chin with his thumb. Then without warning, he tightened his grip on her, increasing the pressure as he lifted her face to his.

  “Dirty little whore, doesn’t know when to keep her mouth shut. Did you think I was going to let you get away with head butting me?”

  Joan’s eyes widen, as she tried to back away from his grasp.

  “Hold him,” Brian instructed Gary, who promptly pinned Stan’s arms behind his back.

  “Nooooo,” Stan moaned, struggling weakly against the grip and receiving a punch to the side of his head to silence him.

  “Fuck you,” Joan spat, as she yanked her face away from his grasp. She took another step backwards but did not get away far enough to avoid Brian’s open palm as it connected with her cheeks. Brian grabbed her before she could fall and spun her around. Turning them both he pushed her forcibly on to his desk.

  Using one arm to pin her down, he swiftly unbuckled his trousers to reveal his already swollen member, “Act like a whore, get treated like a whore,” he hissed in her ear as he roughly pulled down her pants.

  He forced himself inside her, ignoring her cry of pain and the protests coming from Stan behind him, his excitement increasing by the second as he realised the absolute power he held over her, the room, the zone. He thrust harder and faster and was finished in minutes. He turned, grinning to Gary, his now flaccid penis, hanging limply over the waistband of his trousers.

  “Your turn,” he said, nodding at the weeping form of Joan still bent over his desk. His juices dripping down her bare legs.

  “Nah, you’re alright,” Gary laughed nervously, “Don’t want your sloppy seconds.”

&
nbsp; Brian studied him as he pulled his trousers back up. He considered whether he had made a mistake by doing that in front of Gary. He was tempted to make him take the woman too, make him complicit in the act, but decided against it. Gary was loyal. He would stay silent.

  “Take them back to their cell,” he instructed.

  Gary pulled the half-naked Joan from where she lay weeping against the desk. She stood and hurriedly pulled her pants back up. Stan reached out to her, but she rejected his offer of support.

  Brian grinned broadly as he watched them leave the room. Broken. That whore wouldn’t fuck with him again.

  Chapter Eleven

  Luca had watched in horror as Joan and Stan were dragged down the road by the horse. His relief at seeing them alive was temporary when he saw the livid bruising across their bodies. As they reached the makeshift stage, he had pushed his way to the front. Seeing the two people he had now considered friends, so badly hurt, was appalling. But he needed to hear first-hand what they were to say.

  Fear raced through him as Brian started to speak. But the fear evolved into anger as Stan confessed to being from Zone E. They had lied to him. He started at Joan, who briefly met his eyes, before looking away in shame. He kept on watching her as the tears formed in her eyes. He shook his head in disgust and turned away. Pushing his way back out of the crowds.

  He was a fool. Allowing them to wheedle their way into his confidence. Telling them about himself, his Dad and the zone. Thank God, they had been found out before being released. It was this alone that stopped Luca from confessing all that he had done.

  Storming into the armoury, he picked up a large machete and pulled it angrily across the whetstone.

  Losing himself in the rhythm, he pushed all thoughts of the betrayal from his mind. Instead focusing his energy on making sure his zone had the best weapons possible,

  When Robert arrived half an hour later, Luca grunted an acknowledgement to him. Robert picked up one of the sharpened knives and began to clean it with a damp cloth, erasing all evidence of the shards left over from the sharpening process.