HAYWIRE: A Pandemic Thriller (The F.A.S.T. Series Book 2)

by Shane M Brown

  ‘You and Justin have O type blood, correct?’ asked Coleman.

  Neve closed the file, obviously amazed.

  ‘We’re both O positive,’ she replied. ‘How did I miss that? It was right in front of me.’

  ‘It was too obvious,’ said Coleman. ‘You were looking for a more complicated answer.’

  Neve turned and pushed the files into the large pocket behind her backrest.

  ‘About half the human population has type O blood,’ she said. ‘That’s why only half the ship was affected, even though every single person on the ship was exposed.’

  ‘Does that help us?’ Coleman asked.

  ‘It means the drug was almost finished. That’s why it’s so valuable to Christov.’

  Coleman noticed something overhead.

  The cameras had moved.

  The pattern had changed.

  ‘They’ve found us,’ said Coleman. ‘We have to go.’

  Neve grabbed the wheels of her chair. ‘I’m ready.’

  Coleman knew the casino floor’s layout.

  ‘I can get us out, but you need to stay right behind me. Stay silent. When I move, you move. I want your wheels up against my heels, understand?’

  Neve nodded.

  Coleman dashed to the roulette tables. The moment he stopped he felt Neve behind him. Good.

  Now where are they coming from?

  Beside the closest roulette table stood a huge white pillar like something from ancient Athens. In one quick motion Coleman looked around the pillar.

  He saw plenty.

  At least thirty people were sweeping the casino.

  They approached from every direction.

  Coleman drew his heavy Colt 1911 pistol. This was the only real firearm his team had brought on board.

  He was happy to have it now. He hadn’t shot any sick passengers, but enemies with guns were fair game.

  ‘Which way?’ whispered Neve.

  Coleman blocked out all the flashing lights and distractions. He recalled the casino’s floor plan.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he whispered.

  Bullets pounded the marble column as Coleman ran from cover. He didn’t stop. Bending low, he raced through the roulette tables.

  Neve was right behind him.

  Behind her appeared a path of destruction as three gunmen opened fire.

  Glasses on tables shattered.

  Stacks of betting chips flew apart.

  Plush, velvet-lined tables and chairs collapsed behind Neve as through she were being pursued by invisible chainsaws.

  Coleman glanced back and saw Neve bending forward and powering her wheels like an athlete.

  The gunmen were firing fully automatic, barely controlling their weapons. Bullets began stuttering up columns and cutting across the high ceiling.

  Almost there, thought Coleman, glancing back at the worst possible moment.

  Neve hadn’t kept up.

  CRACK!

  Coleman looked up.

  Oh, Christ!

  Suspended above the casino hung a gigantic stained glass masterpiece. At least forty feet across, the massive disk depicted two mermaids sitting on rocks.

  As Coleman watched, those two mermaids came plummeting from the heavens toward Neve.

  The gunmen weren’t firing wildly, Coleman realized. They were trying to drop that structure on us.

  And it worked.

  Coleman shouted.

  Neve twisted to glance upward.

  She can’t make it, realized Coleman. It’s falling too fast.

  Neve suddenly changed the way she powered her chair. Instead of doubling right over to avoid gunfire, she pushed with all the power in her shoulders, arms and abdomen.

  She had no choice.

  Tons of glass and steel sped toward her.

  She made one last powerful thrust toward Coleman.

  She almost made it.

  She came within inches of escaping from under the plummeting structure.

  Coleman watched the edge of the gigantic glass disk smash down on Neve’s head with skull-crushing force.

  He shielded his eyes as tons of glass and metal crashed into the casino floor.

  It sounded like a building collapsing.

  Coleman forced himself to look up.

  Neve’s wheelchair rolled toward him. She lay slumped forward in her chair, hanging limply.

  The chair rolled right up to Coleman. He stopped it with his hand.

  She lay deathly still.

  Coleman braced himself to look at her head. At where the glass had struck.

  He wasn’t able to.

  He couldn’t.

  He couldn’t because Neve straightened in her wheelchair and said, ‘Jesus Christ that was close.’

  Coleman jerked back, barely believing his eyes.

  ‘I saw it hit you,’ he stuttered.

  ‘It hit the chair’s handles,’ explained Neve. ‘It would have flipped me backward if I hadn’t thrown my head forward at the last moment.’

  Coleman stared at her in wonder. ‘Why were you slumped over like that?’

  ‘To look dead.’

  ‘Well, it worked,’ said Coleman. He shook his head in amazement.

  ‘Look out!’ pointed Neve.

  Coleman spun and fired in one move.

  The gunman was still raising his weapon when Coleman’s bullet tore through his stomach. The impact sent the man tumbling into a slot machine.

  The crowded slot machines provided a labyrinth that Coleman could use to their advantage.

  ‘On my heels,’ he told Neve.

  She nodded.

  Coleman snatched up the gunman’s submachine gun. It was a Scorpion Evo. He was familiar with it.

  ‘Let’s go.’

  They wove through the slot machines. Coleman didn’t pause once. He took every turn confidently. Christov’s men must have heard his pistol shot. They’d be among the slot machines in seconds.

  There’s one more, Coleman thought.

  When he’d scanned the casino, he’d noticed two gunmen cutting through the slot machines.

  He’d shot one.

  Where’s the other one?

  The slot machine beside Coleman answered his question. Bullets blasted apart the machine’s plastic and aluminum exterior. Sparks burst from it like mini-fireworks. One entire side of the machine flew apart, spewing coins all over the carpet.

  Coleman glimpsed the gunman firing from between two machines before he ducked back into cover.

  There he is.

  He was close.

  We have to keep moving. If we stop, we’re dead.

  He scooped up a handful of coins and ran silently on the carpet toward the machine concealing the gunmen.

  Just before reaching the gunman’s position, he threw the coins forward.

  The coins clattered loudly against the machines near the gunman.

  As the gunman looked at the coins, Coleman reached him.

  The startled, distracted gunman swung his weapon around, but the moment he’d looked at the coins he was doomed.

  Coleman fired the Scorpion Evo into his body at point blank range.

  Now the gunman looked even more surprised. His eyes opened wide as he collapsed onto the soft carpet.

  Coleman grabbed his radio.

  ‘Neve?’

  ‘I’m here. Which way?’

  Coleman pointed.

  He wove fast through the machines now, but ducked when roaring gunfire burst out across the casino again.

  ‘They’re not shooting at us,’ said Neve.

  She was right. If all those guns were firing through the slot machines, they’d certainly know about it.

  ‘It’s the sick passengers,’ realized Coleman.

  He had earlier mistaken the sick passengers for Christov’s men.

  ‘There are at least twenty sick passengers in the casino. They’re attacking Christov’s men.’

  ‘The gunfire will attract more,’ said Neve. ‘Now’s our chance.’ />
  Coleman couldn’t agree more. They moved fast again, reaching the casino’s side exit.

  Pausing for a moment in cover, Coleman listened to the conflict.

  Over the gunfire and yelling he heard a strange sound. The intense -fwooooooshing - sound was accompanied by screams and the sound of panic.

  Flamethrowers, realized Coleman.

  ‘Oh, God!’ Neve covered her nose.

  The stench hit Coleman.

  He knew that smell.

  He’d smelled it once before, and that was a very bad memory.

  It was the smell of people on fire.

  Justin pressed his back to the white pillar.

  He and Christov stood just inside the casino entrance.

  This is it! I have to do it now!

  The last few minutes had been absolute mayhem. When they’d reached the casino, Christov had silently waved his men forward. He’d shoved Justin to the floor, lifting his flame pistol aggressively.

  ‘You move and I’ll cook you alive,’ he’d warned.

  For the first thirty seconds, Justin heard only the casino machines.

  Then came the gunfire.

  Unrelenting gunfire.

  Oh, God, Justin had thought. They could be shooting at Mom. They could be shooting at Mom for something I’ve got in my pocket.

  But they weren’t shooting at his mother.

  They couldn’t have been. As resourceful as she was, she wasn’t bulletproof, and Christov’s men were still shooting.

  As he realized this, Justin heard something enormous crashing into the deck. It sounded like something gigantic and made of glass had fallen. Vibrations rattled the deck under him.

  While Christov shouted orders into his radio, Justin dared a look around the pillar.

  The casino entrance sat higher than the gaming floor, so Justin had a good view.

  That’s when he spotted them.

  He knew how they moved.

  He knew how they searched.

  He knew how they killed.

  Crazies.

  Hundreds of them. A gigantic pack of crazies. The casino’s noise must have attracted them. And the gunfire.

  ‘The flamethrowers!’ Christov yelled at his men. ‘Get back behind the flamethrowers!’

  Justin saw the flamethrowers start spewing out their bright orange devastation into the horde of crazies swarming across the casino.

  Some of Christov’s gunmen reached the flamethrowers in time.

  Others didn’t.

  The crazies ran headlong into gunfire until the firing stopped. Then they leaped upon the vulnerable gunmen like wild animals.

  Christov’s men had too few flamethrowers.

  The crazies were attacking from too many directions.

  One man with a flamethrower went down with a crazy wrapped around his legs. More leaped on top of him. In seconds he was buried.

  Justin got to his feet as a crazy sprinted up the casino stairs toward Christov.

  He was completely naked.

  His huge stomach bounced and flopped as he ran.

  Christov lifted his flame pistol and fired.

  The red cone of fire engulfed the man’s upper body before Justin turned away.

  Then the smell hit.

  Justin gagged. He couldn’t stand that smell a second longer.

  Go! While he’s distracted! Run!

  Justin ran.

  He needed to escape Christov’s line of fire, but he couldn’t run well with his hands bound behind his back.

  With every step he imagined the flames suddenly swallowing him from behind. He imagined the chemicals sticking to his skin. The unbelievable agony.

  Running from Christov was as terrifying as running from the crazies.

  Just steps from the next corner, Justin glanced over his shoulder.

  He hadn’t run fast enough.

  He wasn’t far enough away.

  True to his word, Christov raised his flame pistol and fired at Justin without hesitation. The rushing burst of flames sprayed toward Justin’s back.

  Justin saw the wall tiles glow bright orange beside him as the flames rushed to engulf him. The roar of the flames sounded like concentrated evil itself.

  He ducked his head in terror.

  Tied behind his back, his hands and arms ignited first. He raced around the corner with his hands and arms on fire behind his back.

  I’m on fire! Water! I need water! I’m on fire!

  But outside the casino there was no water. Just a giant model of the ship behind glass.

  Justin saw his reflection in the glass.

  At the same time he felt the pain receding.

  He stopped running.

  Wait. I’m not on fire. The heat was just...heat.

  It felt like he’d held his arms inside a hot oven too long, but nothing more.

  He missed me! I made it. My arms were never on fire.

  Justin realized what saved him.

  Christov had used his flame pistol, not one of the longer flamethrowers.

  The pistol had a shorter range.

  Justin had barely made it, but he had. The flames had reached his back for a moment, but none of the combustible chemicals.

  He paused to catch his breath, but at the same time spotted another reflection in the glass.

  Crazies came pouring out of the casino.

  They might have been fleeing from Christov, but they were running toward Justin.

  Justin took off sprinting again, hearing the sounds of a group of homicidal maniacs closing the distance behind him.

  Chapter Fifteen

  King ran behind Forest and Erin.

  His left boot still felt slippery from the broken eggs.

  He’d never seen so much food in one place in his life. The ship’s supplies of fresh fruit and vegetables alone looked gigantic. King ran past pallet after pallet loaded high with tomatoes and lettuces.

  Forest ran point, weaving a path through the grid of pallets, trying to avoid the open areas.

  Erin had brought them down here to avoid the crazies and the gunmen.

  It half worked.

  The crazies weren’t around, but the gunmen were right behind them.

  They’re tracking us with the surveillance cameras, King knew. That’s the only way they could keep finding us so quickly.

  King grabbed Erin and pulled her behind a pallet as gunfire harried them again.

  ‘They’re herding us,’ said Forest. ‘We need to get off this level.’

  ‘The refrigerator units,’ pointed Erin. ‘There’s a service elevator between the second and third unit.’

  King looked. Each refrigerator looked the size of a mobile home.

  More gunfire rang out.

  One side of the pallet they were hiding behind collapsed. Bullets tore the wood apart.

  An avalanche of watermelons spilled out.

  The gunmen kept firing, blasting apart watermelons and sending pulp flying.

  King had slipped earlier when a crate of raw eggs smashed in his path. Now raw egg coated his entire left side.

  ‘How are you for ammo?’ asked King.

  ‘One round left,’ said Forest.

  ‘I’ve only got two,’ said King. ‘But they don’t know that. Let’s make a run for the elevator.’

  ‘It’s swipe activated,’ said Erin. ‘I’ll run first.’

  ‘We’ll all run at the same time,’ said King. ‘We can only force them into cover once. After that we’re down to throwing watermelons.’

  ‘Ready?’ asked King.

  Forest and Erin nodded.

  ‘Now.’

  King leaned from behind cover, took aim and fired.

  The four gunmen were closer than he’d thought.

  They know we’re using non-lethal ammo, realized King. They don’t think we can seriously hurt them.

  King fired low, knowing their body armor would block his electro-dart. As soon as he fired, Forest swung around him and fired his last round.

 
While King had fired low, Forest had fired high.

  King’s electro-dart thumped into the closest gunman’s knee. The sharp electrodes speared into his kneecap and released their charge. The man thrashed on the floor like a shark was attacking his leg.

  Forest’s liquidized rubber slug hit the next gunman in the throat. The slug hardened on impact, crushing the man’s windpipe. The man jerked backward. He hit the deck with both hands clutching his ruined airways.

  ‘Run!’ yelled King, firing his last electro-dart at the retreating gunmen.

  This shot missed.

  King took off running after Forest and Erin. Erin was in front. She reached the heavy steel refrigerators before the gunmen returned fire.

  Bullets pounded across the refrigerator at chest height.

  ‘Get down,’ yelled King, but Forest was already diving behind the gigantic refrigerator.

  King was running too fast to dive. He would dive right into the gunfire.

  Then he remembered the eggs.

  His left side was slippery from the broken eggs.

  He dropped to his hip and slid. It worked perfectly. He slid straight into cover as bullets cut through the air above his helmet.

  Erin hadn’t stopped running. She’d reached the elevator and swiped her card.

  Forest turned to check King hadn’t been hit.

  ‘Go!’ yelled King, regaining his feet. ‘Get in there!’

  Miraculously, the doors opened quickly.

  King sprinted into the elevator and pressed his back to the wall for cover.

  As the doors closed, no gunfire followed them into the elevator.

  ‘That was close,’ said Erin.

  ‘Where are we going?’ asked King. ‘What floor?’

  ‘Just three floors up,’ replied Erin. ‘I didn’t want them to catch us in the elevator.’

  Good idea, thought King. He was impressed by Erin. She was the type of woman who made a good case for having women in active combat roles.

  The elevator doors opened and King instantly heard gunfire.

  They were waiting for us!

  Erin’s hand went for the elevator controls.

  ‘Wait!’ hissed Forest. ‘They’re not firing at us.’

  King peered cautiously around the door. Forest was right. Four gunmen were standing shoulder to shoulder.

  They were mowing down a charging horde of crazies with their submachine guns.

  The deck was lined with restaurants and bars. The deck above looked the same. The two decks were joined by stairs and escalators. The upper deck’s large oval balcony overlooked the lower deck.