“Okay, stop.” The man said while lowering his rifle a bit and holding a free hand out toward her. He leaned over to the other man and whispered something to him. They both conversed back and forth. “We’re going to put both of you in quarantine and get Miles…see what he wants to do with you two.”
Chapter 12 - Trouble
On the third floor, Hank could hear shoes shuffling on the wooden floor and creepy groans emanating from behind the doors that lined the hall. There were infected in the rooms and they had heard the shots, stirring their hunger. The upper hall lacked a window and was fairly dark other than light that trickled under some of the doors. He used this meager light to guide him along, listening as he passed each door.
It was a mangled door at the end of the hall that caused him to stop. The wood was shredded. Where the doorknob used to be was a splintered gash. A single hinge is all that kept the whole thing from crashing to the floor.
The room beyond was veiled in darkness, only a sliver of light streaked out from the edge of a far window. He eased into the void, using his foot to move the door out of the way. He was surrounded by the sounds of the demented, but none emanated from the room ahead. Shuffling his feet to keep from tripping, he skidded his way across the wood floor.
As he approached the sliver of light he could see that there was a large wooden shelving unit that had been positioned in front of the window. He lowered his rifle and used his shoulder to push the unit along the wall, revealing a four inch slab of window. Most of the glass had been broken out. Only a few stubborn shards jutted out from the edge of the frame.
With the additional light, Hank spun around and surveyed the room. His mind brought up visions of a putrefied face right at him, jaws open wide, ready to tear into him. It wasn’t exactly relief, but he was glad to find he was the room’s only occupant. The place was trashed. Along the side wall were what remained of a bed. The soiled mattress leaned awkwardly in the corner. The metal frame was bent, side railings nearly touching the floor. Hank found the missing door handle resting up against one of the bed’s legs. The wall was splattered with dark stains and several large chunks of drywall were missing, leaving gaping holes. Whatever was in here, I’m glad it’s gone. Hank thought.
Several booms caused Hank to jump. He thought there were voices shouting, but it was muffled and could have just been the sounds of the demented.
He turned back to the window and peered below. Even from this height he could see foot prints dotting the white snow. His eyes quickly scanned over the buildings and all the way out to the hillside. No movement.
More gun shots.
His eyes caught movement. Directly below, a man ran in a half crouch across the open space. As he neared one of the barracks another man stepped out from around the back corner. Both men wore camo fatigues. They were rapidly talking and pointing back toward the main tower.
Hank slowly brought his rifle up. He stood as far off the window as he could get while still having a sightline to both targets. With slow, methodical movements, he dropped his cheek down, resting it gently on his rifle’s stock. Slow steady breaths eased his nerves and allowed him to train his crosshairs on the target nearest the building. He slowly put pressure on the trigger. Boom.
Hank saw the target drop, leaving only a floating pink mist where he once stood. With the smooth motion of a practiced hand, Hank worked the bolt to rack another round in the chamber. His eyes remained on the second target the entire time. He had hoped for shock and indecision by the second man, but this was not the case. The well trained soldier reacted to the shot instantly. Hank never had a chance to fire the second round, only seeing a trailing boot disappear behind the building as the man dove for cover.
The shots whipped the trapped infected into a frenzy. Shrieks and bangs echoed down the hall. The sounds tried to pull Hank from the window. A backup would be really beneficial about now. Heck a door would be a bonus at this point. Hank thought to himself.
Not wanting to take his eyes off the building below, Hank remained in place, keeping both eyes open to survey the entire scene. Even in his semi-awkward position and the chaos around him, he felt a calm wash over him. He had spent a lot of days just like this and took comfort in the familiar. As long as nothing rushed him from behind, he knew he could out wait his target. From his hideout the man would have to cover a minimum distance of almost twenty feet – a lifetime.
Time ticked away. The infected slowly calmed back to a dull rumble. Noises occasionally echoed from somewhere below, faint but unnerving none the less. Hank held steady, never taking his eyes off the building. There had been no movement. No sign of life. Hank was beginning to worry that there was an underground escape. Visions of someone sneaking in behind him and slitting his throat flashed through his mind. He pushed the thoughts out, knowing it was paranoia trying to get the best of him.
A new noise sounded from somewhere out in the hall. It was not as muffled as the others. Something was in the hall. Hank was torn. He knew the second he turned from the window his target would get away…and almost worse is the fact that he wouldn’t know if his target remained in the building or not. He could sit and babysit a building for hours with nobody inside. He remained at the window.
There was a loud thud out in the hall followed by low growling. Hank was just about to turn around when he saw a flicker of movement in one of the building’s windows.
It was dark and difficult to make out from this angle, but the man was shifting into one of the front rooms. Hank closed his left eye, sighting through the scope. His heart hammered in his chest when he got a clear sight picture and saw the man lying on his back, feet near the window, and head further back into the shadows. The soldier’s rifle was pointed straight at Hank.
In the same instant, Hank pulled the trigger and he saw a bright flash from within the dark window below. Searing pain lit Hank’s temple. Warm blood trickled down his cheek and ran under his ear to his neck. He focused through the scope.
Angered growls echoed down the hall, followed by the pounding of boots on wood.
Hank scanned the window, seeing no movement. His crosshairs traced the unmoving form all the way up to his head. The military man’s rifle lay at an angle next to the body. His head was turned to the side and a dark pool was forming underneath. Not unscathed, but Hank had won the battle.
An angry shriek reminded him that this was far from over. It was incredibly loud, clearly within the room. Hank dropped the rifle, grabbed his sidearm, and spun toward the door. A huge man dressed in torn up overalls raced directly at him. The man’s bearded face was covered in gore. His mouth opened in a menacing growl as he neared Hank.
Pop…Pop…Pop…
Hank rapidly squeezed the pistol’s trigger. Round after round slammed into the man’s chest, ripping ragged holes in his tan overalls. The man’s knees buckled, but his momentum carried him into Hank. The man’s crushing weight pushed Hank over backwards into the wall below the window. His shoulder caught the corner of the shelving unit, shooting pain the length of his arm. His hand instantly went numb and he lost his grip on the pistol. The weapon clattered to the floor as the air was pushed from Hank’s lungs.
Overalls wasn’t alone. Pounding boots chased after him, filling the room with the sounds of hate. Hank panicked, his lungs desperately gasped for air. His fingers touched on the metal pistol, but he couldn’t get his fingers to grasp properly. Just over the dead man’s shoulder, Hank could see a second infected rushing across the small room. The woman’s red eyes were locked on Hank as she screamed out in rage.
Overall’s crushing weight became the only defense that was keeping the woman away from Hank. She reached for Hank’s face, trying to rip at his exposed flesh. Hank continued to reach for the pistol while using his left hand to fend off the woman’s attacks. As his fingers tingled with regained circulation, he fumbled with the weapon, finally getting a grasp around the steel. Just holding the handle flooded him with relief. He brought the pistol up and aroun
d the back of Overalls. Aiming blindly, he pulled the trigger. The pistol cracked loudly, but the woman continued to thrash and reach for him. A second shot caught her in the ear, splattering blood and gore everywhere. Her body went limp and she toppled to the side.
The contagion instantly crossed Hank’s mind. Was he breathing in death – sucking in the unseen infection? Blood had spattered all around him. He felt wet droplets on his face. None had made it in his mouth or eyes…at least not that he could tell.
Hank was struggling out from under Overalls when he heard movement in the hall. There was the sound of pounding from within the rooms, but this was different. Shuffling feet. Moans. The hungry groans of the undead. It was the slow moving parade that seemed to follow the rapid onslaught of the demented.
He rolled out from under the beast of a man just as the first undead staggered into the open doorway. His partially decayed head looked down the hall as he came to a stop. The gray lifeless eyes stared ahead, unblinking. He stood there, hesitating for several seconds, and then slowly turned his head toward Hank. A guttural groan rolled out of his open mouth. His blue pilot’s suit swished as he turned and moved through the open doorway.
Quickly standing, Hank holstered his pistol and unclipped the crossbow from his belt. He fired a bolt dead center into the zombie’s forehead. The body slumped to the floor, revealing another entering the room behind him. Hank loaded another bolt and fired, killing the second one. The sounds of more infected continued from the hallway.
Hank raced to the doorway and carefully peered out into the darkness. The hall was filled with arms and legs. There was at least a dozen, if not more, undead staggering his way. Rather than continue to waste ammo and get slowly overwhelmed, he turned back into the room. He looked down at the pair of bolts lodged in the undeads’ foreheads. He desperately wanted to grab them to keep his supplies, but worried about the infection and knew it was safer to leave them behind.
He reached the far wall and used his shoulder to shove the shelving unit away from the window. He scooped up his large caliber hunting rifle and used the butt to knock out the remaining shards of glass in the window. One level below gleamed the metal roof of the second story. It angled down toward the ground. He figured it was about an eight foot drop, fun slide, followed by a final drop of eight to ten feet into the snow. Sounds like a ride people would pay for at an amusement park.
A quick look over his shoulder gave him a glimpse of undead making the doorway. Time to ride. He turned and climbed through the opening, trying his best to spin around and lower himself. Instead he sliced his hand on a small piece of glass, lost his grip, and flew backwards into open space. He wished he got the slow motion fall actors got in the movies. Instead it was a terrifyingly fast plummet that ended in a painful crash on the hard metal roof. The slick surface kept propelling him downward. Sliding headfirst, he skidded downwards and then shot out into open space once again. With a loud grunt of pain he slammed into the cold, hard ground below. The snow slowed the impact, but only enough to slightly dampen the jarring sting. “Ouch.” He whispered between gritted teeth.
Before he had time to take a full breath and get his thoughts together the pang of a body hitting the sloped roof above rang out. It was quickly followed by another.
******
“Have either of you been around the infected?” The man asked.
Kelly shook her head. “No, not for a long time. Just saw them on our way in.”
“Way in?” The man shrugged his shoulders. “Where could you have been to avoid infected?”
“Up…way up.”
The young man had a confused look on his face, thinking.
Kelly smiled for the first time in a long while. “Cabin in the mountains.”
Understanding crossed his face as he rapidly nodded his head. “You must be Tom’s wife.”
It was her turn to look confused. “How’d you know?”
“Can’t be too many mountain hermits around here. I was with Abby when she talked with Hank to find out where you guys were hiding out.” He sat staring at the wall for a bit and then said, “I’m Isaac by the way.”
“Nice to meet you.” Kelly said. She held her hands out toward the walls, looking around the narrow trailer. “So why are you in quarantine?”
“I killed a young woman.”
Kelly gasped and looked back to Sam.
Isaac held out a hand. “I was framed. Someone…and I think I know who set me up. The council was going to decide what to do with me, probably execute me, and then it hit.”
“What hit?”
“The infection got inside the walls.” He shook his head. “I only get bits and pieces from those that come in bringing me food. The council was getting ready to start removing people that were considered drags on the compound. People started getting fevers and turning. The council had been trying to keep the fevers under wraps…squelch panic and all that, but yesterday there were too many to keep it under wraps. Screams and shouts have echoed through town off and on all through the night and today.”
“The fires?”
“Yeah, they piled bodies in infected houses and lit ‘em up.” He nodded toward Kelly. “Surprised they didn’t kill you, let alone allow you to stay.”
Kelly relayed the confrontation she had with the guards.
Isaac nodded as she spoke and his face turned sour at the mention of Miles. “Miles is –“
Before he could finish, the door burst open and a man in black fatigues stepped in with his rifle out. Once inside he turned and nodded to someone just out of sight. A few moments later Miles strolled into the small trailer.
He glanced over at Isaac and then turned to the other man. “Why did you situate them in with this rubbish?”
The man opened his mouth to say something.
“That was rhetorical.” Miles said before turning to Kelly and Sam. His white teeth glowed with a huge smile. “I am so sorry. This is no way for new guests to be welcomed. Follow me, we will find you more hospitable accommodations.” He stood for a moment. “You can stay at my place.”
Chapter 13 - Knight
Hank rolled to the side just as the first body slammed into the snow next to him. White powder shot into the air from the impact. Before he had time to move another body crashed on top of the first. Hank reached for his rifle, but found he had lost it in the fall. It now lay hidden in the deep snow somewhere. Deciding he would rather not draw any more attention than he already had, Hank grabbed his Kabar and lunged for the top demented. Having landed on top of his partner, he had survived the impact a little better and was beginning to rise to his knees. Hank plunged the knife into the side of his head, ending the movement.
He turned his attention to the demented that still lay on the ground. This one’s neck twisted at an awkward angle and he remained motionless.
Thump.
Hank jumped at the noise of another one crashing to the ground. This one landed just behind him, nearly hitting his legs. His stomach turned when he saw that it was a young kid, probably only seven or eight. He had gotten used to most everything a person could come across…except this. Seeing kids that had turned was gut wrenching. Nobody deserved to turn, but kids should never get the hatred that came with the infection. Hank jammed the knife into the boy’s head, burying the blade all the way to the hilt. Hot vomit rose in his throat. He quickly yanked the blade free and turned away.
Above him it sounded like the infected were tearing the room apart in search of their prey. “Takes more than that to get old Hank.” He whispered to himself.
He searched the snow for his rifle. The deep powder had swallowed it up. Down on his hands and knees, he felt all around, but came up empty. Not liking being directly under the window slide, he decided to move on before more infected rained down on top of him. He looked down at the bloody knife and his mind flashed back to Charlie. How contagious is the infection? He wiped the blood off on one of the infected’s shirts and then rolled it in the powdery snow. Ther
e, sterile as a surgeon’s instruments.
Hank sheathed the blade and tucked in next to the wall, sliding along the outside of the building. He knew the infected might only be one of the threats still remaining.
******
“Think it will ever be safe to leave?” Hannah whispered.
Tom had his flashlight out and was checking the contents of the shelves that ran along the walls of the walk-in freezer. “Not completely safe, but they will at least calm down.”
“How do we know when?”
“That’s the million dollar question isn’t it? I like to think we’ll know, but in this sound proofed thing it’s tough to tell.” Tom continued thumbing through boxes of spoiled food. “We can’t stay much longer…not sure how much air we have in here.”
“Stinks like road kill.”
“Yeah, no doubt.”
“So what do you miss the most…before all this?”
Tom stopped and looked up at the ceiling absently. “Movies.” He turned to Hannah. “I used to love kicking back on the couch, making popcorn…not the microwave stuff, but real popcorn, crack a soda, and just get away.” He stared off at nothing in particular, a slight grin crossing his face. “I miss that a lot. You?”
“You’re going to laugh.”
“Can’t be any sillier than movies.”
Hannah let out a laugh. “Good point. Beer…I miss beer. When I first joined the force, me and a couple other rookies would go out for drinks every Friday night. Nothing crazy…more of a cop pow -wow. How we were going to change everything…make things better.” She grinned and chuckled. “Batman and all that.”
“I have a lot of respect for police officers. Never knew how they could have the guts to go up to car windows. Every stop could be some psycho.”
The Demented Z (Book 3): Contagion Page 9