Dead End: Escape

by Menard, David

  She walked to the lockers, which were on the other side of the room. Every time she looked upon her locker she was glad she didn’t have the broken one. A busted hinge was the defining feature, making the locker compromised. On a daily basis she glimpsed at locker 22 and wondered if anyone stole anything out of that locker. She dismissed the idea after realizing that all employees would have been questioned if that had happened. She put in her combination 10-0-3 and the lock popped open. She used her birthday as a combo, October 3rd. It was easy to remember and she did not care if someone stole anything, she didn’t have much of anything unless you count the four dollars crammed in the side pocket. She placed her purse into the locker, shut it, and walked out onto the busy work floor. Cindy Drawstring had punched the time clock for the last time.

  Chapter 3: The Call

  He had never received a call quite like this before; he was used to getting calls of reported break-ins, not serial murders. Officer Anthony Garrison was twenty four years old, and this was the first real test of his skills in the real world. He only joined the force three months ago, but he felt he was ready for anything. After four years of college with a Criminal Justice degree and the six months at the Academy he finally obtained a coveted police job. He was living a cop’s dream, stationed in a nice small town with hardly any crime. Despite this, Anthony craved action. He wanted to save people and become a hero. A vain dream for selfless man. He was a tall well built man; a product of attending the gym 5 days a week. He had deep blue eyes and a charm that made women swoon. His hair was combed back professionally, his face clean shaven.

  The call he received reported a mass killing at the D.N.A Restoration Lab, which stood in the abandoned industrial district, two miles away from residential living. The call came from a frightened scientist, who described the scene as a “bloodbath”. After dispatch received the call, they sent three cruisers to investigate, including his. He barreled down the road at an excess speed of seventy miles per hour, sirens blazing. Breaking the speed limit was one of the perks of the job.

  “Hey kid slow down a bit, you almost hit that guy,” Anthony’s partner Guy Geeson said disappointedly. Guy was the most decorated officer on the force and was acting as Anthony’s mentor. Guy had received many accolades through his career for exemplary police service and valor. He successfully handled a three day long hostage negotiation during his tenure in Jacksonville. Not only did he prevent hostages from being hurt, he also managed to arrest the captors without any fatalities. Officer Geeson was a tower of a man, very strong, earning him the nickname ‘grizzly bear’. He looked as if he could lift a car, and probably had. He was forty five years old but still stood toe to toe with the younger officers.

  “Hey, he stumbled into the road, it was his fault!” Anthony responded aggravated. It wasn’t his fault that some drunk stumbled in the road. Anthony deduced the man was drunk because he was walking with a wobble. They were entering the Industrial district.

  “Hey kid cool off, this may be dangerous and we cannot afford a shaky hand out there,” Guy said in his usual calm voice. That is what made him an excellent officer, not his ability to shoot or his physical dominance over the other cops. His best quality was his ability to ease tension and resolve a potential dangerous situation. “Ok make this left here and we are there” Guy said pointing up towards a road sign that stated ‘DNA Restoration Lab Next Left’.

  “Ok, let’s do this,” Anthony replied and took the left. The turn they took brought them up a long driveway that led directly to the lab. The futuristic looking building stood silent, tires on pavement was the only audible sound. They pulled up the along the massive building and parked at its facade. Two other police cars accompanied Guy and Anthony; backup was essential if the killer was still on the premises. The officers inhabiting the three cruisers opened their doors and stepped onto the pavement.

  “Ugh gross what’s that smell?” asked the driver of the second car. Anthony could smell what the odor he was referring to. It smelled like a dead animal, and blood. The intensity of the smell was unnerving, the call he received was no prank.

  “I don’t know, but we need to go inside and help whoever is hurt,” replied Anthony as he took a few strides towards the door. He had a weird feeling about this, something didn’t feel right. They were told there was a mass killing spree but there was no sound from the inside. They responded relatively quick to the call so he didn’t think the killer escaped. This was just too weird for Anthony Garrison.

  “Ok guns at the ready, we don’t know where the suspect is, or if he is still here,” Guy announced to the officers.”Be prepared, there could be more than one, “he added. They all assimilated in formation and waited for the sign to “go”. Guy and Anthony were in the front, two cops on either side of the door and two officers behind Guy and Anthony. If the shit hit the fan, Guy and Anthony would get the worse of it.

  “One, Two……….Three!” Guy announced as he scanned the emergency keycard opening the door. Anthony took aim at the left balcony then ground level, Guy mimicked on the right. They were not surprised to see that the main lobby was empty. The officers walked around cautiously, and saw no one; just blood on the floors and walls. Haunting red handprints covered the front desk. A streak of blood led from the desk toward the easternmost hallway; it looked as if the receptionist who resided there was killed and dragged away. The bloody handprints continued down the halls, as far as their eyes could see.

  “How can there be so much blood but no bodies?” asked a perplexed Anthony. There was not a single corpse in the lobby. There were pools of coagulated and fresh blood, but no bodies. Things were not adding up, surely the killer could have dragged a few victims; but, if the blood in the lobby had any indication of victims, there were hundreds. He had his gun ready to fire in just in case.

  “This feels strange, and it doesn’t make sense. The killer or killers would have needed hours to move all the bodies,” Guy replied sounding frightened and confused; he seemed to have read Anthony’s mind. He took a few steps, each step echoing loudly. He stepped slowly because he almost slipped a fresh pool of blood. He caught himself, but the sound the blood made against his boots almost made him hurl.

  “Hey look over there, a survivor,” said one of the officers pointing at a man crawling on the floor. The men turned at this news as Officer Glenn Dorsey ran over to help. Glenn was a single father of three young girls after the untimely death of his wife last year. He was the sole provider for his beautiful girls and had he known that this decision would orphan his daughters, he would have never approached the survivor.

  Officer Dorsey stepped cautiously, surveying the area for possible suspects; once he arrived at the side of the survivor, he was immediately attacked by the ravenous man. The balding man, wearing a stained lab coat, grabbed the collar of his rescuer and pulled him to the ground. The man Glenn Dorsey tried to save was now ripping the officer’s throat out with his teeth.

  “AAAAH! gurgurrugrugrugurur” Glenn screamed while choking on his own blood. Officer Dorsey was twitching, it looked as if he was seizing. The blood was spraying from his throat in a violent torrent.

  “Son of a bitch, get that fucker off him!” screamed Guy as he fired at the man. The guttural noises made by Glenn added to the horror of the situation. In all his years on the force he never expected to see something this terrifying. He couldn’t have imagined one of his men to be killed in such a manor.

  All at once his men opened fire on the survivor, but the man would not relent. He was shot at least twenty times in the chest, legs and back; however the man did not appear to feel a thing, he did not even flinch. Knowing this was going nowhere Guy signaled stop to his men. He briskly walked over to the man, slowed down ever slightly by the massive pools of blood surrounding him.. He reached the attacker, put his gun to the attacker’s forehead and fired. The man jerked back and fell to the ground; his brains were splattered against the wall behind him. The assailant was neutralized and left slumped on the
floor.

  “Let’s go help him,” said Anthony, with noticeable fear in his voice. He took a few steps towards his fallen comrade before he was halted by Guy. He was stunned by his action, Glenn would die if he did not get help. “What are you doing? We have to help him!” he exclaimed on the verge of tears. When Anthony said he wanted action he did not think that anything like this would happen. He expected gun fights and car chases like one would see in an action movie. He glanced back over to Glenn and saw he was no longer moving, the blood had stopped spewing from his throat. The life that had filled Glenn Dorsey ten minutes ago was long gone.

  “There is no saving him, he is dead,” replied Guy sorrowfully. He had never seen such an atrocity in his entire career on the force. What he had just witnessed was something he thought could only be seen in a horror movie. The man attacked with his teeth and it didn’t look like he was just trying to kill him, it looked like he was trying to eat Glenn. Guy shook this thought from his head, he didn’t want that thought to be true, it couldn’t be true.

  “No he isn’t,” replied a young officer in a frightened voice. Guy and Anthony turned in unison and saw that Glenn was moving, slowly. His movements were bizarre, and terrifying. He was lying on his back and all that was moving was his hand at first. It jerked a few times and grasped at the air quickly. Then shakily he started to rise up. He managed to tilt his body over, allowing himself to get on all fours. His mechanics were grotesque and insidious; each movement he made was a jerk, nothing smooth about it. He tried to stand, placing all of his weight on his hands, similar to a baby standing up though this was more sinister. He pushed the ground, allowing him to gain momentum to stand, almost toppling himself over in the process.

  “Impossible! His entire neck was torn out by that maniac!” Guy replied unable to mask his shock. He stepped back towards his men. “I will put him out of his misery, even if he is alive now he won’t stay that way, he will die a painful death,” Guy added as he approached Glenn. He held his gun up with a shaking hand. He could feel the weight of it, it felt heavier than usual. The added weight was no doubt guilt and sorrow. Guy felt responsible for Glenn’s fate, how he wished the roles were reversed.

  “No I will do it, you have done too much already,” said officer Stanley Yetts. The group gazed at the once silent man. There was no protest or support, none of the men could muster either. Stanley was sweating profusely; he had never killed anyone before, and now he was committed to his word. He felt frozen in place, glued to the ground by their gazes. He drew his gun, feeling the same phantom weight Guy experienced, and walked towards Glenn. “I’m sorry, old friend,” he said as he put the gun up to Glenn’s head, a very shaky gun. In a flash Glenn grabbed Stanley by the hand and bite down hard. Whether it was shock or reflex that caused Stanley to fire his gun, shattering a glass tablet that was hung over the reception desk. This ornate slab of glass was etched with the previous and current Chiefs of Staff The glass came crashing down, echoing throughout the building. This sealed their fates. The dead were listening.

  “Stanley!” Guy yelled in grim terror . He ran over to Glenn and fired a single shot into the back of Glenn’s head. The weight left the gun in that moment, Stanley needed his help and Glenn was now an enemy. Stanley was in hysterics; his hand had suffered a deep wound and his face was now covered in his comrade’s blood; not only blood, but some gray matter too. Stanley was crying and shaking uncontrollably. He tried playing the hero and it turned sour. He glanced at his hand and saw multiple punctures on his right hand. Each hole was oozing blood; who knew a hand could bleed that much?

  “Why the fuck did he do that?” yelled Anthony. He was beyond scared, he was horrified, and he never anticipated this in the line of duty. He was trembling, as were the others. Was it rabies? No, rabies does not do that to you. Nothing causes people to fucking eat each other. He never in his wildest dreams thought he would experience cannibalism. So far two officers had been attacked, both were almost meals and now one officer was dead. “We need to get out of here, now! Any survivors are going to have to fend for themselves at this point, that is IF there are survivors!” Anthony announced demandingly.

  “It must be the bites, they must make you like crazy or something,” Guy explained. He thought this theory was absurd but he had no other ideas. “I could have sworn he was dead, how could anyone survive that? And did you see how fast he moved at Stanley?” he added now afraid for his own sanity. There needed to be rationale, there needed to be motive for Glenn’s actions. Guy needed to believe this because the truth was just too much for him to handle.

  “Ssh… guys, do you hear that?” asked one of the two officers behind Guy and Anthony. His name was Jeff Lyons; he worked as dispatcher for three years before being bumped up to case management. He held that position for five years before deciding to transition to patrol. He never thought he would be placed in such a frightening situation. Jeff was only there because his cruiser was the closest to the scene after leaving a domestic disturbance had occurred on East Street.

  East Street housed Lisa Wilson and her husband, Donny Wilson, who had just assaulted her again. The whole neighborhood knew about it yet she denied his abuse. Counseling had been offered to her and protection from her husband was guaranteed, but she refused, she was a victim, it was in her nature to be forgiving. This time however there was no denying it, no “falling down stairs” or “hitting her eye on the door knob”. Half her face had been scalded by boiling water from a pasta pan. Donny had lost his cool when Lisa made a reference to the size of Donny’s manhood. After he slapped her across the face with a spatula, he grabbed the pan filled with pasta and boiling water and doused her with it. A second cruiser arrived to the scene after Jeff, accompanied by an ambulance. Jeff did not even listen to Donny’s fabricated story and cuffed him. He had instructed the officer of the second cruiser to take him to the station while he remained with the victim. Had he took Donny to the Station, he would not have been called into this mess.

  These men were not trained to go against deranged assailants; they were trained to enforce the law, same as any other force. Jeff was prepared for anything but this was something new to him. No amount of preparation could have helped the situation. This was not a dysfunctional spousal situation or even some punk lifting candy from the market; it was cold blooded murder. Jeff had worked himself up so much that his thick glasses fogged up, leaving him temporarily blind. He fished out a handkerchief from his pants pocket and wiped them clean. Jeff was already on edge, but the noises he was hearing horrified him.

  “Be quiet, I am trying to think,” replied Guy angrily. He was so wrapped up in his own world that he could not hear the faint sounds of moans and dragging feet. The scuffling noises were coming from the east wing and were drawing nearer. If he had heard what Jeff heard then maybe he would have been able to escape the lab with only one fallen comrade.

  “What about Stanley? Will he go crazy like them?” asked Anthony looking at Stanley. Stanley was breathing heavily staring at his wound, the blood was still gushing out. Anthony had his gun drawn and was too afraid to put it down. He felt safer behind the gun; it was all that stood between him and death. He took a step back from Stanley for safe measure; he was not going to be bitten. I am definitely not risking that shit, he thought to himself as he put some distance between them.

  “I don’t think so, I think he should be fine, he is still acting normal,” replied Guy. Guy wasn’t even sure if he was right. He had no idea what was real or not anymore. All he knew was that he and his men should get out of the building as soon as possible; he could sense death in the air.

  Terror was sinking in now more than ever for Jeff Lyons, he now heard the moans get louder and could hear the feet dragging very clearly. This was getting too weird, this was only supposed to be a search and rescue mission for survivors but now it was pure horror. If Donny Wilson had not assaulted his wife he would be home right now watching some reruns of his favorite sitcom. The sounds were becoming cle
arer; he hoped it was survivors coming out of hiding. Jeff knew better though, the sounds they made were not human, they were like the first survivor, of that he was certain. As he was thinking this, his partner yelled.

  “LOOK! There are more of them!” yelled the cop on guard. What he saw approaching was the most heart pounding, horrific scene he had ever witnessed. Dozens of people wearing lab coats were stumbling towards them. Their coats were drenched in blood and their faces had blood caked around their mouths and noses. Their speed was not impressive, but they were petrifying all the same. Many walked with what appeared to be a limp, however upon closer inspection it could be seen that they were dragging one leg. Others walked in small baby steps while the rest crawled. They were visible through the open door way from the East Wing and they were coming towards their next meal.

  “Stand back, we do not wish to harm you, come no further!” Guy announced to the crowd of ravenous cannibals that headed towards them. They did not halt upon this command, only stared blankly as they continued their approach. This was a worst case scenario, whatever virus or infection that got Glenn was in all of these people. Any rationality or reason they once had was gone; they were mindless killing machines now. “Stop before we open fire!” he announced uselessly as the crowd moved closer.

  “Guy look out!” shrieked Anthony. Guy turned and was mauled by Stanley. Guy was too distracted by the exodus of scientists that he left his guard down. Stanley stood in the midst of confusion and lunged at Guy. Stanley clutched Guy’s shirt and was determined to take a chunk out of his neck. Fuck! Good thing I kept my distance! Anthony was terror-stricken, he did not know what to do. Guy was fighting the shell of Stanley to the best of his ability. It looked like a wrestling match, both he and Stanley were grappling and neither was letting up. It was a desperate struggle; if Guy made a mistake, he would pay with his life.