“I’m sure you have enough on your plate right now,” I said, standing up, “I can get it and bring it to you.”
He followed me from the office back to the front desk.
“It’s no trouble at all,” he said.
Before I could think of a convincing lie, a riot broke out as several people began fighting. Detective Patterson hurried over to help break it up and I got out of there.
I jogged for three blocks before slowing to a walk. I must be paranoid; there wasn’t much that could make me run. Was it just paranoia though? Had I just completely overreacted?
I ran my hands through my hair, this was ridiculous. I should just go back and hand over the flash drive.
As I turned to walk back, I saw two men in suits get out of a black SUV about twenty yards away. There was a logo on the vehicle which I recognized as Gene Pharm. They headed towards me.
“Crap,” not so paranoid after all.
I took off, moving quickly. I needed to ditch them fast. What the hell had I got myself into?
*
Grayson
“Hey, O’Malley, keep those people off the platform,” I snapped to my colleague. We had closed off the subway stop. Currently there was a train standing stationery at the stop, all the doors were sealed and the power seemed to have gone out in it.
If it was a simple malfunction then why hadn’t the passengers been let off? And where was the driver? It looked like it had started to pull away from the stop before it broke down. Only the last two cars were accessible.
Stepping up to one of the windows I shone my flashlight in. I expected to see a crowd of anxious commuters, but it appeared empty.
I walked the platform, the flashlight still trained inside. When I reached the second car, I found a smear of red up the glass.
Blood? Oh, God, I hoped some guy hadn’t gone nuts and killed everyone on the train. I had worked a case a couple of years ago where the same thing happened on a bus. Some meth addict had gotten on board a night bus and started shooting passengers. He killed eight people in all. I was the first one on the scene. I really didn’t want to see something like that again.
I forced myself to walk on. I tried the doors again even though I knew they wouldn’t open.
“Hello?” I called, hoping someone would reply.
Something banged against the door from the inside.
“Hello? Can you hear me?” I called again, “We’re going to get you out, just sit tight.”
I got on the radio to call for the fire department. We needed to get those doors open ASAP.
“O’Malley! See if you can get something to pry these doors open and cordon off the area.”
We didn’t need a circus down here if something had happened inside the train. O’Malley came towards me with a crowbar.
We wedged it between the doors and we both tried to force the doors open. They opened a couple of inches and I tried to get a look inside. All I saw was someone’s foot on the floor, clad in a black boot. There were definitely injured people in there.
“Come on,” I said to O’Malley, as we put our backs into getting the doors open.
The carriage rocked as some moved inside. A man appeared dressed in a suit, covered in blood. He roared at us and ran for the opening.
O’Malley fell to the ground in his haste to get away and the door shut.
“Oh my God, did you see his face?” O’Malley cried.
I had. There was something really wrong with the guy. I got on the radio again, “Dispatch we’re going to need a paramedics down here and possibly someone from the CDC.”
I looked to O’Malley, “I want a roadblock put up around this stop. No one comes down here. Got it?”
O’Malley nodded and ran off up the steps. I think he was glad to get as far away from the train as he could.
The man inside the train was banging on the door. I went over the possibilities in my mind of what this could be. Rabies? That seemed a little unlikely. Maybe the guy was just hopped up on meth like the one from the bus. It made people aggressive and violent.
A short while later someone descended the steps. It was an Indian man, wearing a shirt and slacks. He carried a briefcase and walked quickly.
“Who are you?” I asked.
He held up a badge, “CDC. I need complete control over this area. My team is already en route.”
“Of course. What can I do to help?” I asked.
“Crowd control?” he suggested. I was being dismissed. I didn’t like it, but I really didn’t want to deal with whatever was inside that carriage. It was his problem now.
*
Danny
I woke up to find myself lying face down on the bed. Every muscle ached, but I felt better than I had before. I raised my head, wiping the drool off my cheek. I was starving.
Heaving myself out of the single bed, I tried to remember where I was. The room was small, the walls painted blue and white. The apartment. That was it. I had come here after I left the subway.
Staggering into the small kitchen, I grabbed a carton of orange juice and gulped it down. There wasn’t much in the refrigerator, but I did find a can of baked beans in the cupboard. I opened them and began eating them straight from the can.
The apartment was small and neat, better than other places I’ve lived in the past.
Dropping onto the couch, I discovered an XBOX controller under the cushion. I played a few levels of Call of Duty. Once I got bored, I turned on the TV. The news was on.
“Police have now confirmed that anthrax was released on the subway train.”
Oh, God. Was that what I was injected with?
Wait, wasn’t it a powder? If it was anthrax, I’d be dead by now. Right?
I heard a gasp from behind me. I turned to find a family of four, a mom and dad and two young boys, staring at me in shock.
“Crap!” I leapt up, grabbing my backpack.
“I can totally explain,” I said. No, I couldn’t. I whirled around and ran for the window. Throwing my backpack out first, I leapt out of it. My body screamed in protest, but I kept moving.
“Call the police!” the wife yelled.
They weren’t supposed to be back until the end of the week. Guess it was the shelter tonight. I certainly wasn’t sleeping rough after what happened on the train. Found dead in the gutter was not the legacy I wanted to leave behind.
The shelter was ten blocks away. At least I’d get a meal there, assuming they weren’t full already.
I had been out on my own for over a year now. The home doesn’t keep you past eighteen. They tried to set me up with a job before I left. I know I don’t have many prospects in life, but working as a janitor, in my old school no less, was not a career option I wanted to pursue. So I had struck out on my own.
I got by. I did odd jobs here and there for cash and there was always somewhere warm to crash if you knew where to look.
When I arrived at the shelter, I found Jake outside smoking. He was a regular at the shelter too.
“Danny, I haven’t seen you in a few days,” he said. He offered me the cigarette and I took a drag. Jake was cool, there weren’t many people my age around here. He had left home after his dad tried to clobber him with a nine iron.
“I had some sweet digs for a while, but that went downhill fast.”
“They came back home, then?” he said.
He knew me too well. I nodded, “Next time I think I’ll find myself a penthouse.”
“Good luck with that.”
“What about you?” I asked.
“I was crashing at a girlfriend’s place for a while before she dumped me.”
“Women, huh?” I said.
I headed inside to sign in. Gerta was on tonight. She was a tough broad and she really didn’t like me. Can’t say why, I’m a charmer.
“You again,” she said, when I took the sign in sheet from her. She was in her forties, with curly brown hair and was built like a linebacker. She spent most of her time keeping the peac
e in here and not many people would cross her.
“Come on, Gerta you know you missed me,” I said.
“Like a hole in the head. I hope you aren’t planning on bringing any trouble this way.”
“I thought I’d take a night off from my misdemeanors. Besides I have you to keep me company.”
I gave her a smile, which she returned with a scowl. It looked like I still had a way with the ladies.
As I walked down the now familiar halls, I found myself missing the apartment, even if it was only temporary. This place was a dump. Bunk beds were crowded into tiny rooms, covered in worn blankets. The food we were given wasn’t exactly gourmet standard and the place constantly reeked of bleach and body odor. I think the bleach was Gerta’s doing. She was always cleaning something.
Still, it was better than sleeping outside. I spent my fair share of nights sleeping in doorways, on park benches and under bridges in the past and it was a scary world out there. Usually you got moved on by the cops, but a few times I had run-ins with street gangs. I had been robbed and beaten up more than once. That’s why I learned to run fast. A skill that always came in handy.
Breaking into people’s houses was something I had started recently. I never stole from anyone’s house, except maybe for some food. I just wanted a warm place to sleep, to see what it was like living in a real home for a while. I hadn’t been caught until today.
As for the wallets, I only stole from those who deserved it. In this city, there wasn’t a shortage of people who deserved it. Psychos brandishing needles, filled with God knows what, definitely deserved it.
Dumping my stuff on one of the bunks, wondering who I would be rooming with tonight, I headed to the bathroom to check the wound again. Apart from a small bruise, there wasn’t much to see. I guess I got lucky.
“Well, it is my middle name,” I joked at my reflection.
That’s what my grandmother used to say. I had a knack for getting out of scrapes.
Boy, lucky is your middle name. I’ve never met anyone who could get away with as much as you.
Yeah, a father who abandoned me before I was born, a mother who disappeared five years later and a lifetime in foster care, I was real lucky. Gran had her own problems so she couldn’t let me live with her, but she did visit me as often as she could. She died when I was in my junior year. I had been on my own ever since.
“What’s going on? What do you want?” Gerta exclaimed. She sounded angry and alarmed. She was always angry, but it took a lot to alarm her.
I moved down the hall for a better look. Peering around the corner, I saw two men in suits trying to get past Gerta. Not an easy task considering she filled the narrow hallway.
“Where is Daniel Spratt?” one of them asked.
I froze. What did they want with me? I was used to uniforms coming after me. These guys, judging from the suits, were higher up the food chain. Feds maybe? Now what could I have done to piss them off?
I wasn’t sticking around to ask them. I grabbed my stuff and left through a back entrance. Pulling my hood up, I kept moving.
I cut through the park, checking behind me every few seconds. As I reached the far side, a car pulled up in front of me.
“Daniel!” the man behind the wheel called. He was in his late fifties, balding with a beard. I backed away. How did he know my name?
“You need to come with me. I can help you,” the guy said.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Henry. They’re coming for you. Hurry!”
I glanced back and saw the suits enter the park.
“You have to trust me. I know what happened to you. Come with me now.”
I weighed my options. They old guy seemed like the safer one. I got into the car and Henry sped off. There was a radio on the dash and it crackled to life, “Suspect has escaped. Last seen heading into the park on foot.”
“Who are those guys?” I asked.
“They work for Gene Pharm. And they want you dead.”
“Oh good. I thought it was serious there for a minute.”
Chapter Three
Lance
“Talk to me,” I barked, as I stepped onto the platform. The place smelled of diesel fumes and fried food from the vendors on the street above.
The call had come in an hour ago. I had been in meetings across town, but was told to handle the situation personally. I had seen the news reports, but I wasn’t entirely sure what I was dealing with. I was better in a boardroom than a scenario like this, but I went where I was told.
A team had already assembled, dressed in hazmat suits. An Indian doctor appeared to be in charge. His name was etched on his jacket – Ramesh. The whole platform had been cordoned off and subway trains had been stopped in this area.
Once it became clear that this was a biohazard, the local authorities had handed it over to us. We had more pull than the CDC and as far as they were concerned, that was exactly what we were.
“Who are you?” Ramesh asked.
He must be a freelancer not to recognize me. Sighing heavily, I removed the ID from my pocket and handed it over.
He squinted at it, “Lance Snow? Never heard of you.”
“I am the vice president of Gene Pharm. Mr. Breton’s second in command,” I snapped the ID out of his hand.
“Where is Mr. Breton?” he asked.
“Busy. Now bring me up to speed.”
Ramesh didn’t look happy, but complied.
“Just over an hour ago, a prototype virus was released into this subway car. It killed all the occupants. It spread throughout the train. Thirty seven people dead, including the driver.”
“Do we know what virus it was or how it was released?”
“We’ve identified it. It was stolen from the lab by an intern.”
“Has he been apprehended?” I asked.
“He’s probably one of the victims on the train.” Probably wasn’t good enough, we needed to be sure. How the hell had an intern managed to get out with a sample? Security would need to be tightened significantly when I got back.
I knew Breton would want a full report. Not only on what the virus had done, but how it killed. I pulled on a hazmat suit of my own, complete with a camera.
Once I was suitably dressed, I turned to the doctor, “We will need full access. Record everything.”
“I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“I don’t really care what you think. Show me the bodies.”
His mouth tightened in a firm line, “Follow me.”
We stepped into a darkened car. The power had been cut off and portable lights had been set up. They cast an eerie glow over the car and I noticed smears of blood on the floor and more on the car wall.
“What were the virus symptoms?” I asked.
“The virus causes flu like symptoms, followed by difficulty breathing. The respiratory system fails and all systems shut down. The incubation period is different for everyone, but it doesn’t take long. The brain effectively dies, temporarily at least.”
I chuckled, “I’m no doctor, but there is nothing temporary about being brain dead.”
“You’ll see,” was all he would say.
We moved towards the next car. Lights had been set up outside this car. They shone through the windows, lighting it up.
A shadow passed in front of the door, “Is it safe for him to be in there?”
“Who?”
“Someone just moved past the door.”
“None of my men are in there,” Ramesh said.
I moved closer to the glass to get a better look, “Perhaps there was a survivor. Someone immune to the virus?”
“There were no survivors,” the doctor replied.
I glanced back at him. What wasn’t he telling me?
Turning back to the door, I cried out when I found someone looking back at me.
I took a step back, my eyes fixed on the woman at the glass. Her dark hair hung limply around her ash colored face. Dried blood was congealed und
er eyes and down her face. It was the eyes that stood out. They had a milky film covering them. Her arm was soaked in blood from a shoulder wound.
She cocked her head, tapping her fingers on the glass. A chill ran through me.
“What is this?” I asked.
“The virus had unforeseen effects.”
“You said it caused brain damage.”
“It did. For a while. Then we believe the brain rebooted somehow.”
“That isn’t possible.”
“I didn’t think so either. The problem is when the brain rebooted, the subject was altered.”
“In what way?” I asked.
“I can’t say for certain without being able to examine one of them, but the subjects have heightened levels of aggression, they no longer seem to feel pain and they have developed…cannibalistic tendencies.”
He pointed into the car. I moved up to the glass, trying my best not to look at the woman.
Scattered across the car were more like her. They were hunched on the floor, eating the bodies of the other victims. There was blood everywhere.
One man looked up at me, a string of intestines hanging from his mouth.
I turned away and vomited, forgetting I was in the suit. Hot bile trickled down my chin and onto my neck. The smell was awful, but I couldn’t take the suit off in here or I would risk exposure. The doctor stayed silent while I composed myself as best I could.
“I need to contact Mr. Breton,” I muttered. How was I going to explain this?
“People are asking questions. If this gets out…”
“I know!” I snapped. It would be a catastrophe. Shares would plummet overnight and we would lose all our funding. We needed a full media blackout. A story about anthrax had already been circulated.
“There’s more,” Ramesh said.
“Of course there is,” I muttered.
“The intern injected the antivirus into a civilian. We pulled up his picture from video surveillance and got a match to a police record. His name is Daniel Spratt. We have people looking for him.”
“Notify me the minute you get him.” If there was an antivirus then maybe this could be reversed.
After Zombie Series (Book 2): Before Page 3