I Dream of Zombies (Book 2): Haven

by Vickie Johnstone

  To her left, the basement opened up and she recognised the corridor leading towards the other exit, through which she had entered with the other soldiers and Caballero. Upon the ground and walls she spotted a faint redness on the concrete, despite the dim light and the fact that the area had since been cleaned. So, the memory of that day had not been scrubbed away completely. It still haunted this area. Turning around, she looked back at the motionless dead-lookers and then the other way. Straight ahead were two doors that she had never noticed before. Gripping her rucksack, she marched towards them.

  Without pause, she tried the first handle and then the second, but they did not give. Reaching into her pocket, Marla removed Jakob’s security pass and tried the first door. It clicked. I’m in luck! Replacing the card in her jeans, she took her knife out of her pocket and pushed down on the handle again. The door opened with a creak that seemed loud enough to wake the dead. Marla gritted her teeth and stepped across the threshold. Inside it was pitch black.

  Stepping back automatically, she reached her hand up to the wall, stretching her fingers for a switch. Finding none, she took her torch out of her bag, turned it on and found herself in a long, cold brick corridor, empty of anything. Closing the door quietly, she walked the length of it, knife in one hand and light in the other. At the end it turned and she went with it. Then the ground gave way to a flight of stone steps leading downwards. Another level?

  Marla hesitated for a second, but her curiosity overwhelmed her and she instinctively made her way down the steps, being careful not to make any noise. At the bottom she was greeted by a metal door. Taking a deep breath, she tried the handle: locked. Marla sighed and then noticed a security card reader. I wonder? Trying the card again, the lock clicked and she smiled.

  Pushing the door, she walked inside an oblong-shaped room. After pressing a light switch on the wall, she replaced her torch in her bag and paused as the light fitting flickered to life. It was a long fixture, running from one end of the oblong-shaped room to the other. At the far end was another door. A strange smell greeted her nostrils; a heady mix of raw meat, chemicals, cleaning products and that familiar putrid scent.

  Bookcases filled from top to bottom with volumes lined the right-hand wall, along with cupboards and shelves well stocked with jars and bottles of colourful liquids. A couple of hi-tech computer systems perched on a desk, accompanied by as many chairs. Various pieces of equipment that would not be out of place in a hospital were dotted around, but what grabbed Marla’s attention above all else were the metal worktables. They were pushed against the left-hand wall, between the machines, and she counted thirteen in all, as if the devil were having a joke. Each one had a sheet lying on top of it. As she drew nearer, it became apparent that there was something beneath them all, and they were not still.

  Bodies.

  They moved. The rise and fall of breathing, accompanied by the sound of it, but very low. There were no wails or moans, and Marla wondered if the dead-lookers were gagged. Making her way towards the first worktable, she placed her rucksack on the ground. Gripping her knife in her right hand, she carefully reached out her left and took hold of the edge of the sheet to draw it back ever so slowly.

  The head made an effort to turn as the blood-splattered eyes darted towards her, but a leather strap held it secure. Marla received her answer for the lack of sound: the lower jaw was missing. The dead-looker’s tongue twitched around uselessly in the gaping hole, accompanied by a strange hissing. She almost felt sorry for it. Dragging the sheet back, all the way towards its feet, she gazed down at the creature. With all of its limbs strapped down, it could not move, only breathe. Its eyes did not leave her face and she recognised the irrepressible ravenousness in them, even now. She drew the sheet back down until it covered the thing’s head.

  Taking careful steps, Marla moved to the next worktable and drew back the sheet warily, holding her left hand as high as possible and keeping the knife ready. She took a deep intake of breath. It was impossible to tell how this one used to look as the entire face was gone. A clean skull with one bloodshot eye gazed back at her, the lower jaw missing. She let the sheet drop back down. A female cadaver lay on the third table with the same facial mutilation. Marla shivered and covered it once again. At the next, she reached out and pulled back the sheet as before, and dropped it at once. It was all she could do to remain silent.

  Stepping backwards, she steeled her nerves and forced herself to pick up the sheet again. Drawing it over the stomach of the corpse, she stared at the visage that had made her tremble. It was the old man from the bus; the one they had rescued from the church. Marla gasped as the eyes looked at her. She knew it could not recognise her, but still, she knew those eyes, once so blue, as she stared back into them. They were empty now, lifeless pools, but she saw the man he once was in them. Covering her nose as the scent of rotting flesh swept upwards, she gazed down at the maggots gnawing into his shoulder. Yet all she could see was the living man, asking her to make sure his wife was fine.

  Caballero, what have you done? Lethal injection, you told me.

  Her instinct was to take her knife and put him out of his misery, but she could not. Deep down she realised this was not him, not any longer; this thing no longer felt or thought, or retained anything that once made it human. Yet it was wrong to ignore this; she knew it was wrong. The man should have been allowed to die with dignity and out of compassion. Letting the sheet drop over his head, she stepped away. This was too much. Suddenly she felt angry with herself. Was there any point in her coming down here and discovering all this? Who could she tell and who would believe it? How could she stop it or change it? Caballero had to know; he was in charge. She stared at the ground, trying to rein in her rising anger. He lied to me. He lied to everyone. Her thoughts switched to Will Acre. Had he been acting on Caballero’s orders? Who else knew about this?

  She took in all of the steel operating tables. How can this be happening? What are they doing here? What the hell are they trying to prove? A slip of a sigh woke her from her reverie, but then she realised it came from her own mouth. Her watch said 5.06 a.m. It was time to get a move on and ignore the jumbled thoughts swirling in her head.

  Turning to the fifth worktable, she reached for the edge of the covering and pulled it back. Male, young… or was. Both arms were missing and the bottom of the left leg. They had not been bitten or torn off either; the cuts were too smooth. If she had to guess, she would conclude the limbs had been amputated. There was no sign at all that the man had been attacked by the dead. Releasing the cloth, Marla walked away, ignoring the pressing questions in her mind.

  The sixth cadaver was also male, but a boy. Marla drew in a breath as the eyes fixed upon her. The top of its head had been sliced off cleanly, revealing the brain, which looked shrivelled and rotten. Maggots crawled amid flies. His tongue was also missing, as was his stomach cavity. The stench overcame her and she dropped the sheet in disgust before moving on to the seventh body. As she neared it, she felt the sensation that someone was standing behind her. Turning swiftly, she came face to face with empty space. Except for her undead companions and her own shadow, she was alone.

  Don’t be paranoid, Marla, she told herself, walking towards the eighth worktable; her lucky number, the symbol of infinity. Reaching down, she lifted the sheet and gasped. Her fingers trembled as the eyes met her own, but they were neither bloodshot nor empty. Full of life, they searched her face, their expression so wrapt with fear and despair as to invite the utmost pity. It was all she could do not to cry out. The lower jaw was missing, just like the others, but his tongue had been cut out. A now familiar type of leather strap secured his shaven head, keeping it motionless on the metal table.

  Marla winced. Part of her wanted to run away, put the sheet back down and go, but the other part convinced her to drag it all the way off, so she did, as he watched her every movement, pleading with his eyes, almost asking her to…

  The blood pumped in her ears as she gazed
upon what was left of his body, lying there naked and bruised, so helpless. Various tubes led in and out of it, the skin around the holes sore and oozing pus. Scars crisscrossed his torso, all the way from the pubic area to his neck. His entire right leg was missing and both forearms. The left foot had also been removed. A swollen, purplish lump of tissue seemed to be growing out of his stomach, but Marla could not begin to guess what it was. Tears filled her eyes as she glanced once more at his face. He was alive, breathing, and she could not tear her eyes away from him. Her attention shifted to a tattoo above the knee on his left leg. It was of a pair of dice and a card bearing the Jack of Spades. The sheet dropped from her hand as she turned and stared at the wall, trying to control her emotions.

  Anger, disgust and pity tore through her, swiftly followed by a grim realisation: there was nothing she could do to help him. Wiping the wetness from her eyes, she forced herself to turn around once more. Gazing into his eyes, she thought of all the questions she wanted to ask, which he was unable to answer. “I’m sorry, Robert,” she said, knowing the words meant nothing. “I’m so sorry.”

  He closed both eyes and then peered up at her again, his expression one of sorrow and a raw agony she could not begin to imagine. “I’m sorry,” she said again, reaching out to touch his shoulder. Robert stared back silently and she blinked back her newly forming tears, pitying him from the depths of her soul. He echoed her action by closing and opening his eyes twice, as if he were trying to communicate. Marla gripped the metal table with her left hand, her knife trembling in the other. “I don’t know how to help you, Robert,” she muttered.

  Though unable to move his head, he looked away. Her eyes shifted to the gaping hole that used to be the lower part of his face and her legs almost buckled beneath her. How could they torture and disfigure him so? Hatred for the perpetrators coursed through her veins. There was no way she could leave him, not like this. It would be easy to free him, but then what? How could he recover? Who would help him? Where could she take him?

  Glancing down at the knife in her hand, Marla shook her head at the gruesome thoughts that flooded her mind. Turning, she took a couple of steps away from the table. She should draw back the sheet and leave before someone found her, but she knew it was not an option. She could not walk away. The minutes passed as she battled with her conscience. After a while only one thought consumed her and in the end she turned back to him.

  “If you want me to leave you here, Robert, blink once,” she said softly, “but if you want this to be… to be over, blink twice.”

  Gritting her teeth, she waited. His eyes darted to meet her own. Slowly, he closed his eyes and reopened them. His gaze seemed to creep inside of her and it made her ache. Then he blinked again. Even though she knew she was sealing her own fate and that the moment would haunt her for the rest of her life, Marla reached down into her rucksack and removed her gun. “Please shut your eyes, Robert,” she said. “I’m sorry.”

  When his lids closed for the last time, she pulled the trigger.

  The minutes drew on as she covered the lifeless body with the sheet and stared down upon it. All around her, the walls closed in. This place was not a haven. It was a living hell.

  “Marla?”

  The word made her jump and she spun around to find the source of it. She had not heard anyone walk through the open doorway into the room, but then she was unaware of how much time had passed. Everything had blurred. Suddenly, she recognised the man striding towards her. “Jakob!” she called out. “I can’t believe what’s going on here. Someone is experimenting on people, not just the dead. I’m…”

  She stopped speaking, realising that Jakob was not alone. The expression he wore was one of anger. “I know,” he stated bluntly.

  “You know…?”

  “Drop all your weapons!” ordered one of the men, raising his handgun.

  Marla felt nauseous. “Jakob?”

  “Did you not think there were cameras?” another man asked her.

  Cameras? Marla looked up at the walls, and flung her gun and knife to the ground. From behind her a click sounded, followed by footsteps. Turning, she saw four men enter through the door at the far end of the room. When her arms were seized, she did not attempt to defend herself, realising the futility of it. Her body felt numb anyway, detached from it all somehow

  “What did you expect to find down here?” asked Jakob, stepping closer to her. “How come you never know when to give up? How many warnings do you need?”

  She trembled, but said nothing, studying him, this man she had not really known. Who was he? Was there a link between him and Will Acre? She watched his eyes dart along the row of bodies, stopping at the one closest to her: Robert’s. Jakob scowled and shook his head at the crimson spreading out all over the once white sheet.

  “What a waste!” he exclaimed. “You destroyed my experiment.”

  “Experiment? Yours?” Marla cried out. “He was a person, not a thing… how could you do that to him? What kind of a man are you?”

  She fell silent when he laughed for it was pointless voicing her feelings. They would fall on deaf ears. He did not care. He was cold. She wondered if she would be next, tied up here and tortured, day after day, night after night. She imagined him enjoying every second of it. The inevitability of it made her knees buckle.

  “Stand up straight, Marla,” Jakob spat. “Why are you looking so sad? I thought this was what you came down here looking for, and you found it. Well done. Welcome to my own personal laboratory. Would you like me to give you a guided tour?”

  She remained silent while he continued to eye her, as if she were a mouse trying to find its way out of a maze he had made.

  “No, I think I know what you were really looking for,” he continued, and her mouth went dry, wondering what he would say next.

  Marla cringed. Who else was down here? Who else had gone missing? She observed the two men holding her, but they were strangers she had never seen before. Two others stood off to the side, equally unrecognisable. One smirked, so she focused on Jakob. He stared at her for a good few minutes as if deciding something and then he bent down. She watched, expecting him to pick something up or remove something, but instead he began to roll up the bottom of his trousers. Marla blinked. It was his amputated leg; the one with the prosthetic; the bionics that he had spoken so much about. So that was the secret?

  He steadily moved the material upwards, gradually exposing what lay beneath. Gasping, Marla stepped back instinctively, but there was nowhere for her to go, trapped in the firm hold of the two men either side of her. While she wanted to look away, she couldn’t. The flesh of Jakob’s leg was puckered, the surface dotted with red, open sores. As the cloth rolled upwards, she saw that the skin at the knee looked healthier or less… dead, and when his hands stopped moving at his thigh, she thought she would scream as her mind stepped forward from the place it had been hiding and into the stark reality in front of her. The tattoo of a pair of dice and a card bearing the Queen of Hearts glared back at her.

  “Impressed?” asked Jakob.

  “What have you done?” Marla cried out, feeling nauseous as blood rushed to her skull.

  “What have I done?” he sneered, pointing to his leg. “Progress is what I’ve done. I told you we had isolated the cells that rejuvenate the undead beyond death. Did you not listen to me?”

  She suddenly recalled his conversation when she was focused on stealing his security pass. “You didn’t tell me you were experimenting on yourself?!”

  Jakob scowled. “It’s a privilege, like the others here. This is the future. This is what will keep our species from dying out. If the virus cannot be beaten, we have to find a way of surviving with it.”

  “And that’s how you mean to do it? By torturing innocent people?”

  “Keep your voice down, Marla, although no one will hear you here. What’s a few lives compared to millions? And Robert was far from innocent,” he reasoned.

  “So you’re saying he dese
rved this?!”

  “We have orders, Marla. This place is special. We are the hope for our people to survive this virus. This leg was dead flesh, but I brought it back to life using the cells from those who have turned. It isn’t perfect yet, but it will be. The previous one didn’t quite work out, but Robert’s seems to be better. Sometimes there are side effects, but…”

  “You’re murdering people!” she spat in disgust.

  “I thought you would understand me, Marla, but I can see I was mistaken. You don’t understand science or the predicament we are in…”

  “You tortured Robert. He must have been in agony. Why? Why, Jakob? And you have the virus inside you!” she shouted. “What the hell do you…?”

  “Take her down below,” Jakob snapped. “There is no use trying to make you see the light. You already chose your fate.”

  “Where are you taking me?” Marla demanded as she fought to free herself. The two men dragged her towards the door at the far end of the room.

  Jakob turned and walked in the other direction. “Goodbye, Marla. Maybe we’ll be seeing each other again soon. Sweet dreams.”

  Tuesday, late afternoon

  Tommy knocked on the door again, but there was still no reply. He tried the handle in vain and checked his watch: 5.36 p.m. – the patrol team returned over an hour ago. Scratching his head, he wandered down the corridor before stopping, glancing back and continuing. Pressing the button for the lift, he took it to Ellen’s floor and tried her door. She answered it with a book in her hand. “Hi, Tommy,” she said, “you okay?”