The Demented Z (Book 3): Contagion

by Derek J. Thomas

  “Clear.” Eli whisper-shouted when he reached the end of the hall. He had his rifle aimed at the floor behind the sand bag bunker.

  Gunfire erupted from behind them. Tom turned and raced back toward the stairwell. He found Hank in the doorway with his pistol out. Just beyond him, Abby was firing down the stairs.

  “Move Abby.” Hank shouted.

  She began backing away, still firing into a line of demented.

  Tom tapped Hank on the shoulder. “Clear here, fall back.” He moved up next to Abby and began firing into the oncoming horde. “Hit ‘em in the legs then fall back.”

  Both of them began firing into the legs of the infected, causing them to bunch up and topple over one another, forming a dam of bodies. Abby and Tom quickly backed out of the stairwell, pulling the door closed behind them. Tom looked around for some way to lock the door, but with only a crashbar the door had no mechanism to keep it closed.

  “Leave it.” Abby said.

  All three of them retreated down the hall to Eli. He was on the other side of the sandbags, leaning up against a door, ear pressed to the metal, listening. Above his head, painted in ragged blue paint, were the words, “The Ark.” The words gave Tom pause.

  “I hear voices inside.” Eli said, turning to the group. “Can’t make out what they are saying.”

  “Locked?” Tom asked.

  Eli gave the handle a firm, slow twist. “Doesn’t feel like it.”

  Loud bangs at the stairwell door reminded each of them that they had to get out of the hall.

  “Sweep in quick.” Tom said. “Eli, move in to the left. I’ll cover right.” He looked back to Abby, unsure how battle ready she was. “You good with this?”

  “I’m ready.”

  “Okay, you come in behind us and watch the middle. Hank, use your pistol…watch our backs.”

  They all quickly swapped out magazines and charged their weapons. Once everyone stood ready, Tom turned to Eli and gave him a nod. Eli gave the handle a slow turn and once he felt the bolt release from the strike plate, he shoved the door and burst into the room. Tom swept in right behind him. Abby and Hank waited a beat, staying behind the protection of the cement wall.

  Deafening gunfire erupted from inside the room. Bullets streaked through the doorway, slamming into the wall across the hall. The shooters adjusted to Tom and Eli’s movements. As soon as the gunfire ceased hitting the wall, Abby spun into the open doorway with her rifle ready.

  Inside the room was total chaos. Tom and Eli had barely entered the room before they were the targets of more than a half dozen shooters. They had barely dodged to the sides before a hail of bullets ripped through the air behind them.

  Eli moved fast to the left, returning gunfire as he ran. Without any immediate cover, he continued across the room, eyeing a stack of blue water drums near the wall. Gunfire raked the wall behind him.

  Tom grunted in pain when a round clipped his shoulder. Un-slowed, he dove for a mountain of canned goods stacked haphazardly behind a long table. Thwok … Thwok … Thwok . Cans absorbed round after round. He quickly crawled to the far side, rolled onto his shoulder, and opened up on the nearest shooter. His shots found their target, dropping the man from sight. Using his boots, he shoved himself further along the floor, looking for another target.

  The focus of combat surged through Abby. Many people froze when the bullets started flying, but she felt oddly comfortable. Maybe it was her quick reflexes and amazing hand-eye coordination, developed from months of obstacle training, or maybe it was just her personality, but everyone else seemed to be in slow motion. She began systematically picking a target, taking slow trigger pulls, and moving on to the next. One after another she continued to drop attackers.

  Water streamed from the barrels as shots tore through the thin plastic. Eli eased out from behind cover just enough to get a sight picture. He focused through the splashing water and began methodically firing at movement. The cacophony of noises was unbelievable. The gunfire created a nearly constant, chest pounding thrum.

  Tom could no longer see any of the attackers. He looked ahead to a low counter that ran perpendicular to the sets of counters, tables, and desks that the attackers were using for cover. With a quick glance back to the open doorway he debated letting them know he was moving, but decided against it. Staying as low as possible, he ran in a crouch across the open space between the stacked cans and the counter. He wasn’t hit by gunfire and didn’t hear any rounds hitting in his direction, giving him hope that nobody noticed his movement.

  Abby ducked back into the hall as a hail of gunfire ripped through the air. Sharp, hot pain flared in her side as a bullet clipped her waist. She growled loudly, more from anger at not dodging quick enough than pain. Her surging adrenaline kept the pain at a manageable level. A quick look down the hall let her know that the demented had not yet opened the stairwell door.

  “They’re trying.” Hank said, sensing her question.

  Her lips tightened in grim determination as she nodded her head in response.

  “We don’t have much time.”

  Bullets still flew through the opening and slammed into the far wall, blocking her ability to get back in the fight.

  Eli screamed out in pain as a bullet tore through his hand. “Ahhh.” He ducked back behind the barrels. His shooting hand’s thumb hung limply by bits of white gristle. Blood gushed from the ragged wound. He became light headed. Eyes closed, he took deep, steady breaths, trying to keep from passing out. Bullets continued to thud into the barrels and slap against the cement wall.

  Tom stayed low as he moved to the corner of the counter. He dropped to one knee. Rifle raised, he leaned out from cover. Directly in front of him were several men crouched behind various forms of cover. All of them were focused on the fight in front of them, and had no idea Tom had flanked them. He almost felt bad about the broadside attack, but knew they wouldn’t hesitate if given the same opportunity. With a flick of his thumb he switched his M4 to full auto. The steady barrage of lead that followed only lasted a few seconds. Every one of their attackers toppled to the floor, blood dotting their clothes and ragged holes punched through their flesh. Tom hesitated, scanning for movement. “Clear!” He shouted.

  Abby was watching the stairwell door jiggling from the demented that wanted in when Tom let them all know that the room was clear. Relief flooded over her. She was just debating on what to do if the door burst open and infected began streaming in. “Hank, let’s move.” She said.

  He didn’t budge. His eyes stared at the ceiling as he leaned up against the wall.

  “Hank!” She shouted while grabbing his shirt.

  His head whipped around, eyes squinted and glaring. For a second his mouth pulled back in an angry grimace and then as fast as it came, his face melted back to normal. “What?” He said with a look of confusion.

  “You okay?”

  “Fine…just tired.”

  “Clear inside, let’s move.”

  The two of them swept inside the room and closed the door behind them. Abby searched for a way to lock the door, but it was void of anything but a bare handle. She turned, searching for the others. Tom moved along the back of the room with his rifle still held at the ready. Eli was just getting up from behind a stack of blue barrels. He had his rifle slung and was cradling his hand to his chest.

  “You okay?” She asked as Eli approached.

  His face was white as a ghost. In a soft voice he said, “Hand…bone…I thought…caught my.” He looked around for a bit and then added, “Thumb got.”

  “Relax, you’re not making sense.” She rested a hand on his shoulder. “I’m going to help Tom. Stay by the door and listen for infected.”

  Eli’s head whipped toward the door. He took a step back. After a couple slow breaths he seemed to clear his mind a bit. He looked back toward Abby and gave a nod.

  Tom had moved to a pair of closed doors in the far corner of the room. Both lacked any markings. He turned back to Abby and wa
ved her over.

  She ran over, climbing up and over a low desk that was riddled with bullet holes. “What’s up?” She whispered as she stepped up next to him.

  “Couple doors. We gotta clear these.” He glanced back to Hank and Eli. “How are those two?”

  “Hank’s getting bad.”

  “K, let’s move quick then.” He turned to one of the doors. “Follow me.” Without hesitating, he turned the handle and rushed through the opening.

  ******

  Neither of them expected what they found on the other side. More attackers, stacks of supplies, weapons, and even chemical canisters were all on the list of possibilities. Instead they found a huddle of women and children. Several began crying hysterically when Tom came into sight. Others stared with icy glares of hatred.

  Tom kept his rifle trained on them. “Nobody move.” He shouted.

  Abby stepped up next to him. “I don’t think they’re going to attack us.”

  Knowing she was right, Tom lowered his rifle. “Who’s in charge here?”

  “They were…the men you just slaughtered.” One of the women shouted.

  “There are infected in the hall. Again, who is in charge?”

  A nicely dressed woman, eyes red from crying, stood and said, “I guess that would be me. She looked around at the others. “I’m…was…my boyfriend was our leader.”

  Tom wanted out of this room. “Come with me. Abby, watch them.”

  Out in the main room, Tom checked on Hank and Eli. Hank was sitting on the floor with his head hung down between his knees. Eli was up close to the door, working on his hand with a strip of cloth. He looked up at Tom and gave a nod.

  The woman shuffled out behind him.

  “What in the world is going on here?” Tom asked.

  “We’re just trying to survive like everyone else.”

  “How long?”

  She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Since the beginning.”

  “You worked here?”

  “Some…most of us.” She said with a shrug of her shoulders.

  “What happened here?”

  She hesitated, looking around the room, unable to make eye contact. “Nothin’…we’ve just been holed up trying to start new.”

  “The scientists?”

  Worry flashed across her face. “The—“ She began nervously rubbing her hands together. “They…they got killed.”

  Tom decided this wasn’t getting anywhere and it was time to take a leap. “We’re here for the pethromyoxicine.”

  Surprise flashed across her face. “How?”

  “Where is it?”

  Her head started to turn back toward the unopened door and then her gaze dropped to the bloody line of bodies on the floor. Tears began to well up in her eyes. Her eyes remained on one in particular and then with surprising quickness, she wiped the tears away and took a steadying breath. She nodded her head a couple times, seemingly to herself.

  “It’s okay…talk to me.” Tom whispered.

  She pointed to the unopened door. “It’s in there. Just don’t hurt any of us…please don’t hurt the children. We just wanted a purge…start fresh you know.”

  Eli suddenly spoke up from next to the door. “They’re in the hall.” He began backing away from the door. “Hank, get up. Infected are in the hall.”

  Tom turned back to the woman. “We aren’t going to hurt any of you. What does the stuff do?”

  “The pethro wipes them out. It’s contagious for the infected.”

  Anger swelled in Tom. “How long have you guys known this?”

  Her head dropped in shame. “Since the beginning. We…the scientists and some of us created both. It started a long time ago.”

  “Why?” Was all Tom could utter.

  There was a loud bang at the door. Hank was up off the floor, backing up next to Eli. The metal door rattled.

  “They’re coming in.” Eli said, panic filling his voice. His butt hit a desk, stopping his retreat.

  Tom was still looking at the woman. He was unable to comprehend what she was saying. “You did this?” He half whispered, the words barely escaping his mouth. His family flashed through his mind. Images of their mutilated bodies came flooding back. It took every ounce of restraint he had to keep from strangling the woman where she stood.

  “The world was a mess.”

  “A mess! This is a mess!” Tom yelled while pointing around the room.

  The woman stood emotionless. “It was going to get better. We were nearly to the final stage.”

  The door burst open. Angry growls filled the room, followed by a flow of demented.

  “Into the room.” Tom shouted to Hank and Eli, while pointing to the closed door. He turned for the open door.

  Abby was already rushing out of the room. “I’m coming.” She said when she saw Tom.

  “Close them in.” Tom said. He grabbed the woman by the arm. “Come on.” He said while turning for the closed door.

  Both Hank and Eli climbed over the makeshift barricade, knowing that gunfire would only slow the tide. Dozens of demented had already poured into the room. A pair of blonde teenage girls led the charge. Had it not been for their filthy, blood soaked clothes they would have looked like high- schoolers racing to get an autograph from their favorite boy band. At the sight of meat their lips curled back in angry growls, further ruining the high schooler image.

  Tom ripped the door open and shoved the woman in ahead of him. He expected a dark utility closet, but instead found a large, organized room. It was well lit by several overhead industrial lights. The walls were hidden by giant shelving units. Neatly stacked supplies lined the shelves with identifying tags at the front of each row. In the center of the room, several black countertops with sinks, centrifuges, and analyzers marked it as a repurposed chemistry lab.

  The others rushed in behind Tom. Abby slammed the door closed and flipped a large deadbolt into place. The chaotic sounds of the demented tearing into the barricade filtered in from the other side of the door. Hank slid to the floor.

  Tom turned the woman around. “Where is it?”

  She pointed to the far corner. Tom’s eyes followed her gesture and he saw stacks of green cylinders taking up several shelves. They looked like oxygen cylinders, but the shelf mounted labels marked them as pethromyoxicine.

  “Help me.” Tom said while rushing over to the corner. “We just spray this stuff out?”

  “Yeah. Inhalation or fluid contact.”

  “How long?”

  “High dose takes—“

  She stopped when there was an enormous bang at the door. The demented wanted in. They continued to pound at the door.

  “How long?” Tom shouted again.

  “Minutes…direct contact they’ll be dead in minutes.”

  Tom turned and looked at Hank slumped on the floor beside the door. “What if they have it but haven’t turned?”

  “Mixed. Our tests…research has shown some clear and some don’t.” She shrugged her shoulders. “Not much choice at that point.”

  The metal around the deadbolt was beginning to warp from the weight of infected pounding into the door.

  “They’re going to get in.” Abby shouted.

  Tom grabbed one of the canisters and rushed over to the door. He jammed the plastic tip under the door and cranked the valve. A loud hissing issued from the end. “Someone grab another canister.”

  Abby shouldered her rifle and grabbed another canister from next to the woman.

  As she ran over Tom said, “Hit Hank with some, then help me over here.”

  There was more hissing as the invisible gas washed over Hank.

  “That’s enough.” The woman said.

  Abby stepped over by Tom and followed suit, jamming the tip under the door and cranking the valve fully open. The banging at the door began to slow and eventually ceased all together. They left the canisters wide open.

  “Can you make more of this stuff?” Tom asked the woman.

/>   “Fourth floor has tanks…thousands of gallons.”

  Tom turned back to Hank. He had flopped over onto his side, eyes closed.

  ******

  “How are you feeling?” Tom asked.

  Hank smiled. “Best I’ve felt in a long time.

  It had taken nearly three days for him to wake up. Convulsions and rapid breathing had worried all of them, but eventually those went away and he opened his eyes to the world. He was unable to remember what had happened over the last few days. Tom spent some time filling him in and letting him know about “The Ark” and the success of pethro.

  While Hank was recovering they spent the time clearing the entire building. They were all impressed by the pethro. Even as far back as the stairwell were piles of bodies. Those that didn’t die immediately spread it to the others.

  Now they all sat in a group next to Hank.

  “We will help.” One of the ex-scientists said.

  Tom nodded his head. “Okay then, let’s wipe this thing off the planet.”

  Epilogue

  It took nearly three years and the help of hundreds of survivors, but the infection was finally eradicated from the planet. Tom’s promise was fulfilled. Everywhere they went they found more survivors to help spread the pethro. Pilots, planes, and helicopters made work easier. Larger cities only needed small doses of the bio-agent. Wind and movement by the hordes did most of the work after that.

  With more than 99% of the world’s population wiped out, life afterwards was far from easy. Sadly it was the reset that “The Ark” was hoping for. Jobs and financial planning were replaced by farming and hard work. It wasn’t an easy life, but it was life.

  This Concludes The Demented Z

  Thank you for reading The Demented: Contagion. I would greatly appreciate your review on Amazon. Every little bit helps a lot. To keep up to date and see what is coming next, follow me at http://www.facebook.com/DerekJThomasBooks