Humanity Gone (Book 3): Rebirth

by Derek Deremer

  “Are you sure this is safe?” I ask. This can't be safe. “The stairs can't be far.”

  “Take a chance.” He turns and reaches his hand down towards me. “Here, come on.”

  I hesitantly reach for his hand. A few old horror movies with elevators flash through my mind. Before I can change my mind, he reaches the few extra inches and grips my wrist, lifting me until I can pull my body into the small opening. I hobble up into the elevator and stand in the confined space. It feels sturdier than I imagined.

  “It's because I like exploring,” he says, finally answering my question. His finger goes to a hatch in the roof. “I'm gonna boost you to that. Open it and climb through.”

  He interlocks his fingers and squats. Again, without thinking, I comply. He boosts me up to the ceiling, and with little effort, the hatch opens. I pull my body into the square opening with some support from Nichols’s shoulders.

  Standing on my feet, I glance around the dark shaft. It's nearly pitch black. A thick wire ascends out of sight from the center of the car, and I grip it with my left hand. It, too, feels sturdy.

  “Now, give me a hand,” Nichols says with his hand stretched towards the opening.

  “You think I can pull you up here?”

  “I can't jump it. Just help me grab the ledge.”

  I reach into the hole with both my hands. Nichols jumps and grabs onto my wrist. He nearly pulls me through the hole as I support his weight. I push with my legs and manage to raise him a few inches. He reaches up and grabs the sides to the hatch. Without his weight, I lose my balance and my back collides with the wall.

  “Be careful,” he says, pulling himself into the shaft. I back away from the wall, rubbing my back slowly. “Bet you didn't know you were so strong?”

  “Yea, yea. Now what?”

  He walks toward the wall and stretches his arms high. A loud metal sound returns when he knocks on the surface above him. In the dark, Nichols hauls himself up to a tiny ledge. He is totally lost in the darkness. The only light we have comes from the small square hatch beneath us.

  “Nichols?” I question, after not seeing him for a few moments.

  “Yea, hold on.”

  He grunts, and a line of light fills the shaft as Nichols pulls open the second floor elevator doors. He continues to grunt and the gap widens, filling the dark shaft with light. After the opening is broad enough, he stops and turns.

  “Now, we are at the second floor.” He reaches his hand down and helps pull me up to the second level.

  “Whew. That was definitely more exciting than the stairs,” I say.

  “Yea,” he turns with a smile and strides down the hotel hallway. I follow him. Almost immediately, I see the stairway door. It is right next to the elevator.

  “Nichols?” I say. He turns his head back to me while continuing to walk down the hallway.

  “Honestly, why not the stairs?”

  “Just because,” he answers. “It's for your own good.”

  “No. Nichols tell me. I hear enough of that from Carter.”

  “Fine,” he says giving in to my demand. He walks the few paces back to me and sets his outstretched hand on the door. He pushes it open slightly. And I glance inside.

  I nearly vomit when I see what resides within. He quickly shuts the door.

  “I'm sorry,” he quickly says, looking at me with regret.

  “No, it's my own fault. I should have trusted you. How did you know?”

  “When I went out the other night, I briefly stopped here. Stairwells became a common resting ground for a lot of bodies – especially within cities. Out of sight out of mind, I guess. They didn't plan for when the elevators went down.”

  We continue walking down the hallway, checking each door to see if it is unlocked. Light from a window at the end of the hall illuminates the green carpeting and the white walls. We didn't want to break any down until we have to - it's not worth the energy. Our route will take us to the room where Nichols found the stockpile, yesterday. We have several hours before dark, so the more we can find the better. If we can't get through the border, we are going to need all the food we can get. After a few more minutes, I decide to lighten the mood. Between all this death and destruction, there are a few glimmers of hope.

  “So any particular reason you like running around looking like the Lone Ranger?” I ask. He laughs.

  “Jocelyn said the same thing.”

  “You like her don't you?” I quickly say back.

  “Jocelyn?”

  “Yup.”

  “Like?” he says, turning a slight red color. “What is this, junior high? I think there are more important things to worry about...”

  I laugh. That tells me all I need to know. Once upon a time, that was the kind of stuff I was worried about. Now, as I say those words, it all seems fruitless. Still, it's a nice little escape from all these horrors.

  Shaking his head with a mild smile, he walks down the hall, trying each door on the right. I try the ones on the left.

  My hand pulls a handle down and the door pushes inward.

  “Nichols, I've got one.”

  “Great,” he says while walking beside me. We enter the room together. Aside from dust, the room looks untouched. The bed is perfectly made, and even a few towels are neatly folded on top of the covers, blanketed in a thick layer of dust.

  In the small kitchenette are two bottles of water. I unzip my pack and throw them in.

  “You know some places charged you like six dollars if you drink one of those waters?” he asks.

  What a delightfully useless piece of knowledge.

  “Yea, I've heard that.” I entertain him and replace the pack to my back. Why does small-talk just seem like a waste of breath after the plague? Hopefully, when we get out of this mess, it won't be that way anymore.

  “Look, there's a balcony,” he says, walking to the opposite side of the room. He pushes open the curtains and light pours into the dusty space. He unlocks the latch and opens it up. A draft of cold winds runs through, fluttering the curtains and the bottom of his coat. I join him outside.

  We can see the whole street. If we lean out, we can even see the entrance to the hospital. I search the hospital and see a figure through the glass.

  “Look,” I say, “it's Jo.” Nichols hurries up beside me and looks up to them. I turn to him to see a stupid grin quickly leaving his face. He turns forward and leans on the railing with his arms.

  “Obviously you like people, Nichols. Why did you decide to be alone during this whole ordeal?”

  He looks at me and then walks to a patio chair on the balcony. Nichols sits down after brushing some shards of glass off the seat with his sleeve. His hand comes up slowly, removes his hat, and places it on the table. The other hand pushes his blonde hair back on his head.

  “Well, I suppose it's pretty complicated. Things were ugly down there in the beginning. I tried trusting a few people, and they turned on me mighty quickly. It was the only way to be sure.”

  “I'm glad you found us,” I say, clutching the railing.

  We share a smile and I lean against the balcony and feel the cold air. I couldn't imagine doing this alone for so many years. Luckily, I had Ryan and David before Carter. David. My smile melts to a brief frown. I turn towards Nichols

  “We better get back-”

  Shattered glass on the table beside his hat shakes slightly - something large is moving. Peering over the railing, I look down the street for any sign of the cause. A low rumble continues to echo off the tall buildings. What in the world...?

  An army of Jeeps and Humvees drive down the road. They have the same markings as the trucks that I watched from a second story window so many years ago when the New Americans took everything away from us the first time. My heart drops. Nichols comes up beside me, returning the hat to his head.

  “This complicates things,” he begins. I nod.

  Please, don't let this happen again.

  Chapter 21: Ryan

 
; I step behind Jo and Caitlyn who unblinkingly stare out the window at the parade of trucks parking on the outside. Many of them wear gas masks as they move about, forming a perimeter around the hospital. They know we are here. Carter runs into the room and nods to me with wide eyes. I guess that they have slowly made their way around the rear of the hospital, too. For whatever reason, they haven't entered. Perhaps they don't want to take a chance of destroying the cure with a barrage of bullets and explosions. Still, we are surrounded.

  A cold thought grips me; we will not be so lucky this time around. I need to focus if we are to get out alive.

  “Cait and Jo, I want you to head back to the waiting room and take inventory of all the weapons. Get them ready for transport. The cars are in the parking garage. If we can punch a hole right outside that entrance, we may stand a chance of retreating. They'll be careful killing any of us just yet,” I say. They turn; I grab Caitlyn's hand.

  “Did you do what I asked?” I say to her. She nods and pats the cargo pocket along her leg. Jo gives us an odd look, but this isn't the time to explain.

  Hopefully, it won't come down to using it. I knew Caitlyn would agree to it though.

  They both turn and leave without questioning anything; Carter follows them. They are good soldiers. Honestly, we don’t stand much of a chance, but I want them to leave me alone for a moment. I move closer to the window and scan the crowd of soldiers, looking for a specific face. The man I thought I had once found in his bed.

  He’s out there. I know he is.

  The one who has annihilated the work of years of my life. Twice. And I'll be damned if he does it again without paying with his life.

  Matthews.

  My fingers search for a way to open the window. Hospital windows rarely open for safety reasons. I find some leverage on the windowsill and try to move the glass. It doesn't budge.

  Oh well, onto Plan B.

  There is a monitor of some kind next to the vacant bed on the other side of the room. It’s roughly the size of an old tube television. I walk over to the door to the room and close it gently. The others are nowhere to be seen. I approach the bed and grip the monitor. Returning to the window with the heavy box, I lift it over my head and throw it into the window.

  Glass shatters as the box penetrates the window and flies into the cold outside air. A few bullets immediately shoot through the newly opened window. I duck down as the lead goes into the ceiling above me. Dust falls on my head and neck. I reach up and swipe away the dust then pull my pistol from the holster at my side.

  A voice projects into the room from the outside. They must have a megaphone. I figure that was a nice way to say hello. I'll at least hear what they want.

  “Men hold your fire.” There is a pause. “Whoever is up there, we do not wish to fight. We know why you are in that hospital. We want to help in any way we can. Washington has managed to avoid an epidemic, but our gas masks and quarantine won’t last forever. Whatever qualm you may have, put it aside. You know, as I do, that there isn’t much time.”

  I don’t trust a single word they utter. The minute that they know that we have the cure, they will take it by force. They will cure themselves, and will leave the rest to die. He’s not getting it. I will make sure that he does not get it.

  I'll make sure we die before he gets it, and I'll destroy every last syringe, too.

  The voice continues.

  “We are giving you one hour to respond to our proposal. After that, we intend to take you by force. We’d rather you work with us, but that is your choice.”

  I look to another patient bed and consider throwing another monitor. Instead, I retreat. We have less than an hour to get the hell out of here.

  * * *

  “Why don’t we just take them one of the batches of the cure? That’s what they want - they’ll leave,” Darrel says. That is completely foolish. That is why I'm in charge.

  “No. They know we wouldn’t give them all of it, and they would come looking for the rest. I’m sure they have a few lab rats that they think could quickly synthesize more with a sample. We'd rather die than hand it over to them.”

  “So then, what’s your plan Ryan?” Tori asks.

  “Like I told them. We get to the garage and shoot our way through their line. Then we make a break for the bridge.”

  “That’s suicide,” Jo responds. “There are too many of them, and we are down to maybe a hundred rounds to share between all of us.”

  “Working with them is suicide,” I remark. “Listen, we are taking everything down to the garage and preparing to exit. Gather up all the weapons and vaccines. Laura, make as many more as you can in twenty minutes. Everyone, meet down there in twenty-five minutes.”

  “But-” Carter begins.

  “Do it,” I nearly bark. This isn’t a time to deliberate. I am going to do what it takes to keep them alive whether they like it or not. I know best, dammit. I push past Carter, grab a few rifles from the table and head out of the lobby. Darrel glares at me as I push through the door and down the hallway.

  What David did cannot be in vain.

  While preparing my own rifle, I quickly yet silently move down the steps to the parking garage. Hopefully, the New Americans haven't wandered down there, yet.

  I slowly open the door and scan the garage. It's clear. I set the extra rifles by the car and move towards the vehicle entrance. I kneel at the bottom of the ramp, leaning as covertly as I can against a cement divider. It’s a long and steep ramp that goes up to street level; it's the only way for vehicles to get down here from the city. While the others load everything into the SUV and the sedan, I keep guard at the bottom behind my cover. Looking up quickly, I see a few vehicles and helmets move around, but the path remains mostly clear. If they look down, they'd barely be able to see me in the darkness. Perhaps they don't expect us to run. Maybe they think we still need more time on the cure.

  Fifteen minutes later Carter quickly moves up to me.

  “Ryan, we are missing one of the batches of the cure. I was just bringing down the third box, but when I came to the SUV, there was only one.”

  “What?” I whisper aggressively, still glancing at the entrance to the parking garage.

  “We had three, and now we have only two.”

  “Where could it have gone?”

  Carter shrugs his shoulders. The two of us move back to the car with our guns still at the ready. Kevin comes through the stairwell with Jo, Caitlyn, and the last of the rifles. Laura stands beside Carter and Tori holds a box of food from the apartments. I look around to everyone. Paige and Nichols are trapped outside. Well at least we’re all… wait, where’s Darrel?

  “Where’s Darry?” Tori asks, noticing his absence at the same time as me. She drops down her box of food and turns to the rest of us. “Where is he?”

  Carter gives me a wide-eyed look. I’m not sure what…

  It clicks. Darrel took the medicine. He's going through with his idea. We have to stop him.

  Carter and I quickly run back through the garage and up to the first level. We catch sight of Darrel at the main entrance. He is moving the last of the barricade to the front door.

  “Darrel stop!” I yell, nearly at a sprint. “That’s an order.”

  “I’m not your damn soldier, Ryan. I’m not letting you get us killed with your insane ideas. Yeah – we’re going to blast our way out of this one. This violence needs to end.”

  He picks back up the box and pushes his back against the door to the outside. Daylight pours in as it opens.

  “No-” Carter begins to yell.

  “You’ll thank me soon enough,” Darrel says, moving his body completely outside.

  My fingers move towards my pistol, but the door shuts, and he is on the outside. Carter and I come to a halt at the doors. We both look through the glass.

  Darrel hobbles towards them with the box in his hands. All of them have their guns on him. They don’t fire.

  “Here’s your cure,” Darrel yells.
“We finished it a few days ago, and there is plenty to go around. Just let me and my friends go.”

  “Set the box down,” the voice over the megaphone roars. Darrel sets it down and begins to back up with his hands in the air.

  “I’m not armed,” he announces. Several of the guards move around him, their rifles pointing directly at his head. A lone figure protrudes from between black suited soldiers. He wears a white coat and a gas mask. I’d guess he is a scientist. His voice is muffled but still audible.

  “What’s the dosage?” he asks.

  “I think I heard them say something like 15 cc.”

  The masked man nods, picks up the box, and walks back into the crowd, quickly disappearing behind the soldiers.

  Tori walks up beside me and places her forehead against the glass.

  “Darrel… what are you doing?” she whispers to herself.

  Being stupid.

  Darrel remains with his hands towards the sky. Another man with a mask emerges from the group. He wears a navy blue three-piece suit with a blood red tie. It is him. I know it is him. God knows why he's here personally. I never thought he had the courage. Maybe he needs the cure...

  President Cole Matthews. I can barely hear him from inside the hospital.

  “So,” Matthews says beneath the mask, “you managed to solve what so many of us could not. Good for you.”

  They aren’t quickly treating Darrel like the hero that he imagined. Darrel lifts his sweater to show the healing rash on his skin. “It cured me,” Darrel’s voice shook.

  Matthews moves closer and looks at Darrel’s skin.

  “Amazing,” Matthews remarks. A leather-gloved hand probes the rash with two fingers. Darrel's face flinches.

  “Now please, let us go,” Darrel asks, lowering his sweater.

  Matthews looks around to his men. Some of the few unmasked soldiers grow smirks at the comment. I imagine the faces that I can't see have the same smiles. A few even let out chuckles that end in coughing fits.

  “We have to do something,” Caitlyn says to me. She holds the rifle tight in her hands.

  There’s nothing we can do.

  “There’s nothing we can do,” Carter says in a monotone voice.