Dawn of the Rage Apocalypse

by Timothy W. Long

  16

  Elizabeth waved as she headed for the back door. She climbed up the back of the entryway, then walked right under the big security light. Instead of waving an ID card over the reader, she took a set of keys out of her pocket, flipped them around, and then slid one into the lock. The door opened to her and she went in.

  So we waited.

  I took out my phone to check for another message from Jessica, but she had gone quiet. I could try calling again but our last conversation hadn’t exactly gone well.

  “Everything cool? Did you hear back from Jessica?” Roger asked.

  “Nope. Not a fucking peep. She’s probably on her way to work,” I said. “She won’t listen to me. There could be a hundred zombies outside of her apartment, and she would insist that she had to go to work anyway.”

  Roger nodded, but he his face had an odd faraway look. He was probably just concerned about what we were doing here, and how long he should stay before running off to his bunker.

  I texted Elizabeth ‘How does it look in there?’ but she didn’t answer.

  Roger took out his mammoth phone and then stepped a few feet away to do something. I brought up Instagram and took a selfie right next to Roger’s Hummer, being sure to stick my tongue out and flash my fingers in a shitty approximation of an A. Atlanta, yo.

  Mitch and Mindy did their thing. Any second those two were left to their own devices, it was all lovey-kissy shit. I had tried that with Jessica once, and she’d smacked my hand away like it carried the plague. She did not care one bit for public displays of affection.

  Another five minutes passed so I tried Elizabeth again, but she didn’t answer my text.

  “What’s taking her so long?” I wondered out loud.

  Ten minutes later and I still hadn’t heard back from Elizabeth. The heat was starting to set in. I wiped a line of sweat off my forehead and tried Elizabeth one more time.

  “What are we doing?” Roger asked. “She said a few minutes, we’re rolling up on half an hour. Plan B?”

  “Plan B it is,” I said even though I only had a vague idea of what that was.

  Roger was all business after he put his phone away. He reopened the back of his H2, and then moved a few of the black military-style cases around. He opened the top of a box and removed a gun that was already tucked into a carry and conceal paddle holster, and handed it to me. I removed the pistol and turned it on its side to inspect the make and model. I hadn’t even handled this particular gun, a Kel-Tec PF-9, but I knew one thing about it for sure. It was cheap, otherwise I wouldn’t be handling it now. Roger wasn’t likely to hand over one of his better weapons no matter how dire the situation.

  “Why can’t I use that Kimber back there.” I pointed at a gun case, already knowing the answer, but what the hell.

  “Because it’s expensive, and if you get killed, I may not get it back. The Kel-Tec is good. It’s cheap, but reliable.” Roger dug around in a deep black case, pulled out a mag, looked it over, and then flipped it my way. “Extra, just in case.”

  “Not many rounds,” I said as I looked at the extra magazine.

  “It holds seven, so you have fourteen. You’ll be fine, man. Plus it’s a small gun so it’s easy to conceal. More than likely we’re going to go in, get told to leave, and that’s that.”

  “Got a sawed-off?” Mitch asked.

  “Why don’t you guys stay here and act as look out?” Roger suggested.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? We want to go stomp zombie ass!” Mindy said. “Come on, Roger, hand over some guns.”

  “Here’s an idea. We’ll do some recon, and then radio you and let you know if we need help,” Roger suggested as he dug out a small clear box. “But under no circumstance are you to touch anything in my H2 unless you absolutely have to.”

  He popped the lid and then removed a pair of radio units. Roger turned them on, checked the channels, and handed one to Mindy.

  “Cool. A walkie talkie?” Mitch said with a frown.

  “Those Motorola radios will allow us to talk without the benefit of a cellular signal. The range is good, but once we’re inside it’ll be cut down to a quarter mile or so. Assuming you two don’t run off somewhere to boink like a couple of bunnies, we should be able to stay in touch no matter which floor we’re on.”

  “Naughty monkeys,” I whispered.

  “Fuck off,” Mitch mouthed in my direction.

  Roger shot me a confused look, then shook his head. “Anyway. Assuming you don’t leave the parking lot, we should be able to stay in communication.”

  “Why not just use our cell phones?” Mindy asked as she scrolled through something on her own device.

  “They might have jammers in there. That lady doc didn’t really tell us what to expect. Maybe the building is too thick. I mean, it could be anything, so those radios are going to reach us,” Roger said as he handed Mindy the receiver. “We’ll stick to channel 22.”

  “Maybe we should go with you,” Mitch said as he continued to eye all of Roger’s gear.

  “Stay cool out here for now. We might need you,” Roger said as he strapped a neat-looking pistol under his arm. “So be ready for the call.”

  “She’s just lost, or got in trouble,” I said. “Maybe one of her managers is yelling at her as we speak.”

  “I don’t know, man. I have a feeling that not many people get away with yelling at her,” Roger said. “Now put on your game face.” Roger slapped one last magazine into the belt at his side, then whipped a dark blue windbreaker over his back.

  I hadn’t bothered tucking in my shirt and it hung low enough to cover the gun, provided I stuck it in my waistband. First I looked for a safety, couldn’t find one, and prayed that I didn’t shoot myself in the ass. With my pants weighed down, walkie in one hand, Latimer’s pass in the other, we strode toward the back entrance. This would have been a great time for some Guns and Roses, or AC/DC to be cranked as we slow strolled toward the back entrance. Instead we had to settle for the sounds of an increasing number of sirens that howled around us.

  Roger pulled out a couple of ball caps and handed me one. It wasn’t much of a disguise, but it was better than nothing.

  “When this is done, I swear I’m going into my bunker,” Roger said.

  “You’ve been saying that for two days,” I replied as we kept up a brisk pace.

  “I mean it this time. We get the stuff, turn it over, which will probably save the world, then I go in until Fox News announces the all-clear.”

  “If we’re going to save the world, why are you going to hide?” I chuckled.

  “Because I don’t care what she says. We’re not saving the world. That’s a job for people in power.”

  “So why did you agree to come along?” I asked.

  “Because you asked. Besides, what else am I going to do if I go into my bunker too early?” Roger put his hand in front of his jeans and jerked it back and forth.

  “You don’t need your bunker for that,” I said.

  “Nope. Just a bunk. Let’s do this thing.” Roger closed the back of his H2.

  With the sun beating down on the back of my neck, we retraced Elizabeth’s steps to the back of the building.

  17

  Entering the building wasn’t as hard as I had expected.

  I climbed up the delivery loading dock and put my back to the wall, with Roger right behind me. I waved Latimer’s ID in front of the card reader and the lock popped open on the first try.

  “I can’t believe that actually worked,” I muttered. “I thought for sure she was full of shit when she said his card would still be active.”

  Roger moved around me, stayed out of sight of the camera’s lens, but looked up.

  “Not surprising. The camera’s dead.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “No lights, and when I move my hand in front, the lens doesn’t even attempt to focus.”

  “What does that even mean?” I asked.

  “Means we’re looking pr
etty, but there is no doubt some shady shit going down here. Stay frosty, bud,” Roger said. He motioned for me to stay back while he opened the door and poked his head inside. He kept his hand inside his jacket, and presumably on his pistol.

  I leaned close and said, “Boo.”

  “Funny, but I got nerves of steel,” Roger said, even though he had jumped.

  “Nerves of steel, more like nerves of aluminum." I grinned. “Are you going to stand there, or are we going inside?”

  “Yeah, hang on.” Roger reached into his back pocket and pulled out his cell phone, and placed the screen in front of his face.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Friends. I’m coming to you live from an undisclosed location where we hope to get to the bottom of the virus that is sweeping the city of Atlanta. People are going crazy, attacking each other, and in some cases even biting. So I’m here with my boy, Jake.” Roger turned the screen to the side, forcing me to wave. “And we’re going into this super secret government facility. You ready for this?”

  “Put that thing away.” I frowned.

  “That’s what she said.” Roger hammed it up for the screen. “Stay tuned to my channel, and tell your friends. Remember to hit that like button, and be sure to subscribe.” He flashed a thumbs up, and then pointed the phone inside of the building before turning it off and putting the device away.

  Talk about being caught by surprise. It never failed with Roger. He had a way of finding the quickest way to piss off most everyone around him. He could have warned me, and what had happened to doing this all nice and quiet?

  “Dude,” I said as I jerked my straight hand under my chest. “Warn me next time.”

  “Might as well get used to it. Call it rent for borrowing my gun,” Roger said and pushed his way inside of the building.

  I followed him into a brightly lit hallway that smelled a lot like the place I worked, go figure. I almost felt like I should go and find the janitor’s locker and break out some supplies. Surely something in this sterile white building needed cleaning. Instead, I took out my vape pen, hit it a few times, and blew thick plumes of strawberry lime at the ceiling.

  The doors bore numbered, but most were closed. One was open halfway down the hall, and that was our first stop, but it ended up being a boring break room. A couple of vending machines sat against the wall. There were a few tables and some chairs, as well as beat up magazines and newspapers. I looked over the soda machine, but it completely lacked any kind of energy drinks. What kind of shit was that?

  I dug around in my pocket.

  “What are you doing?” Roger asked as he paused at the doorway.

  “Grabbing a soda. Want one?”

  “We’re here looking for rage zombies and you want to get a soda?” Roger asked in disbelief. “Ah, fuck it. Get me an RC if they have one.”

  * * *

  A few minutes later, with a couple of sodas gurgling around our stomachs, we set out to try to find Elizabeth again. So far our rescue mission had lasted almost ten minutes and all we had managed to do was buy some drinks. I had texted the doctor that we were trying to locate her, but she hadn’t responded yet.

  The hallway ran for a good long ways before it turned into a little T section, and then we had to pick a direction. Signs hanging from the ceiling only provided a range of office numbers. 1101 - 1110 was pretty self explanatory. It was when we rounded the corner that the numbers got confusing. Suddenly they had letters in front of the room numbers, or more confusing combinations. None of it made a damn bit of sense.

  Every door remained locked to us and no amount of waving the ID card in front of readers would allow us access.

  “I guess we could try to bash one open,” I suggested.

  “We could.” Roger shrugged. “And if there’s anyone in one of the offices, well then I guess they’ll know we’re here.”

  “It’s Sunday. There’s no one here, as evidenced by the fact that we’ve passed at least a thousand office doors and there’s not a single person here,” Roger said. “Although I did notice the entrance to an underground parking lot on the west side of the building.”

  “So for all we know there could be a lot of people here,” I said.

  “Only one way to find out,” Roger banged on a door with his fist. “Yo. Any ragers in there?”

  “Did you notice any other cameras?” I asked.

  “Nope. But they’re probably hidden. Either that, or they don’t have any on this floor,” Roger said, then touched his hat visor. “At least we have our amazing disguises.”

  “Yeah, man. They’ll never see us coming,” I said.

  Roger pushed on through the corridor and then pointed. “Look.”

  “Cool. An elevator. But which floor would she be on?”

  I waved Latimer’s ID card in front of the elevator’s card reader, expecting it to be declined, the way it was being rejected at office doors, but to my surprise, the green triangle above the sliding doors lit up.

  “Sweet,” I said.

  The door whooshed open and we were awash in some ridiculous song that sounded vaguely like a hit from the 80s or 90s, but it had been slowed down and orchestrated. We stepped into the elevator and looked at the panel. Another card reader lay off to the side. Roger stuck Latimer’s ID out but nothing happened.

  “Huh. Maybe we have to pick a floor first?” Roger said.

  “Which floor?” I shrugged.

  “That one.” Roger pointed at the very last button on the bottom that was labeled LL.

  “Why not?” I said and pressed it.

  The button lit up and the doors slid closed.

  “Now we’ll get to the bottom of this,” Roger said with a sarcastic grin.

  “At least we’ll start at the bottom.” I tried to sound clever.

  “Isn’t that your job now?” Roger smirked.

  “Blow me.”

  “Oh, low blow,” Roger quipped.

  The doors slid open a few seconds later, which wasn’t soon enough in my mind, thanks to the God-awful music.

  Roger had his hand inside of his jacket, so I followed his lead and put my hand on the butt of the PF-9. I had left it tucked in the back of my pants, and considered pulling it. Then again, I worried there might be a bunch of office nerds down there, and showing a gun in an office building was a surefire way to get the cops called. I suddenly had this crazy fear that we would end up hearing “active shooter” by the end of the day.

  But the hallway was completely empty. More closed doors lined the hallway but they were larger, some being double entryways. Roger strode out the door first, but I was close behind.

  My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled out my device and found a message from Mitch.

  Yo. You guys still kickin’ it in there? We’re gonna go grab burgers. What do you want on yours?

  “They want to go get burgers.” I scratched my head. “What part of stay up there and be our backup did they have trouble with?”

  “Tell those two idiots to wait until we have some news before running off.” Roger fumed. “Plus, it looked like a lot of places were closed when I was driving in. I found a McDonald’s, but it was dead.”

  “It does smell like some shit is going down out there, no matter what that lady doc says. She told me it’s all contained, but damn…” I trailed off.

  “What, man?” Roger and I walked side by side until we came to the first juncture in the hallway.

  “Something she mentioned earlier. She told me that she thought the military were moving in to help keep the peace.”

  Roger stopped in his tracks. “Did you maybe think to tell me that earlier? That blows my whole plan, man. That means that we’ve progressed beyond a few assholes running around and biting each other.”

  “Sorry, I know. I totally forgot about it until just now. We drank gin, and I never had that stuff before. It’s scrambled my circuits a little.”

  “Damn, bro. I’m all for saving humanity and whatnot, but I need to get to my ba
ckyard bunker and lock this shit down.”

  I stopped in my tracks.

  Roger followed my gaze, and then let out a gasp.

  “Is that what I think it is?” I said.

  “Hard to tell with the lights out.”

  Why are the lights out? I maybe should have asked that out loud. When we were upstairs the lights had been on, thanks to the automatic sensors. When we had arrived downstairs they had been out. Not only that, but now that we were here, I realized it was unusually warm.

  I turned and hit the button for the elevator, but it didn’t light up.

  “A/C’s out too,” I said.

  “Are you fucking kidding me? The power went out as we stepped into the hallway?”

  At least there were emergency lights set in the ceiling. They didn’t completely illuminate the walls, but it was better than being in complete darkness.

  Something struck the wall or a door behind us.

  Roger had his gun out and leveled toward the sound in a half-second. Mine caught in my waistband but I managed to get the job done.

  “Someone’s screwing with us,” Roger said as he snatched the ID card out of my hand and frantically waved it over the card reader. “We had power on the elevator, then we get down here and it’s suddenly out?”

  “I got a bad feeling,” I said, which in hindsight, is what everyone says at the point in a horror movie just before the monsters step out into the light and brutally kill whoever said those very words. “Stairs?”

  “I don’t think we have a choice.”

  Something banged down the hallway again, which set my skin crawling, but with the multiple junctures I couldn’t tell from which direction the sound originated. Another loud crash sounded like a bunch of filing cabinets had been knocked over.

  “Elizabeth!” I shouted.