Resistant Box Set

by Perrin Briar

  Sharon and Janice had been in the station many times but had never explored the everyday working offices before. They made turn after turn but couldn’t seem to locate the exit.

  “We’re never going to get out of here,” Sharon said.

  “We will if we keep going,” Janice said.

  “How?” Sharon said. “I swear we’ve been down this corridor before.”

  Sharon was wrong. They hadn’t been down this corridor before. Dana had been keeping a close eye on the route they had taken, and they hadn’t taken a pair of lefts or rights that would turn them around in the opposite direction.

  “Wait,” Janice said. “Did you hear that?”

  They were silent, listening. Dana heard nothing.

  Then there was something.

  A wet slurp, followed by a thick slap, grotesque and obscene in the extreme. Janice peered around a cubicle. She paused, edging back from what she’d seen.

  “What is it?” Sharon said.

  “One of them,” Janice said. She’d turned pale and looked like she was going to hurl. “And the lawyer.”

  “Was she eating him, or was he eating her?” Sharon said.

  Janice gave her a look.

  “What?” Sharon said. “You know what lawyers are like.”

  “A bit soon for lawyer jokes, don’t you think?” Janice said. “Tasteless.”

  “I’m not sure the guy eating her would agree,” Sharon grumbled.

  “Let’s get out of here,” Dana said.

  They turned and ran down a perpendicular corridor. The exit had to be there somewhere.

  “There!” Janice said, pointing to the emergency exit sign.

  They didn’t break step, and shifted position. Janice pushed the lever and the door opened. They skidded to a halt.

  A man dressed in rags was bent over a fallen police officer. The officer’s gun was in his hand but it hadn’t been used. He lay, eyes wide and blank, staring at the sky. The homeless man dug into the officer’s stomach, pulling out a string of intestines and shoving them in his bloodstained maw.

  “I wonder if he tastes like pork,” Sharon said.

  “Sharon, please!” Janice said.

  “Actually, probably more likely donuts, I’d say,” Sharon said. “And coffee.”

  “Incorrigible,” Janice said, shaking her head.

  They edged around the homeless man, eyes fixed firmly on him. He was too engrossed in his meal to notice them.

  They proceeded down the alleyway. It was pitch dark. Dana felt along the walls to guide her way toward the moonlit opening. She bumped into something soft. Janice had come to a stop.

  “I can’t keep going,” she said.

  “What’s up?” Sharon said. “We didn’t run that far.”

  “It’s not my lungs,” Janice said. “It’s my hand. The bite. It’s burning something fierce.”

  “Let’s take a look,” Sharon said.

  Janice twisted her head to one side, hissing as she did. Sharon gently peeled the plaster back.

  “Looks infected,” Sharon said.

  “What?” Janice said. “Those damn nurses! They could have at least patched me up properly!”

  “You did punch them in the face,” Sharon said. “They probably couldn’t see through their black eyes.”

  “There you go again,” Janice said. “Cracking wise. Taking pleasure in another’s pain.”

  “Is there any greater pleasure to be had?” Sharon said.

  “Clearly your exes all let you down,” Janice said, grunting as she replaced the plaster.

  “Oh my God,” Sharon said, peering around the wall at the street beyond.

  “What now?” Janice said.

  “The police station,” Sharon said. “It was just a taster. Wait till you see the rest of the city.”

  Chapter Eleven

  THE SIRENS of a pair of patrol cars screamed as the cars hit the brakes and screeched, slamming into the bodies of half a dozen shambling figures.

  They rolled off the hoods, heads striking the tarmac and smashing into a thousand pieces like dropped watermelons. Some of the figures did not stop moving, crawling toward the cop car on ruined legs.

  The doors flew open and a pair of officers from each vehicle climbed out, drawing their weapons in smooth movements and taking aim at the figures that by all rights should have been dead.

  The officers fired indiscriminately at the figures, blowing off kneecaps and other body parts. Still, the figures kept coming. These were no mere humans. They were something else, something no one had ever seen in the flesh before. What exactly, was a question for another time.

  A thin tendril of smoke rose from somewhere in the city, tickling the sky’s underbelly. A dozen helicopters flew overhead, dangerously low, searchlights flickering side to side. Some dove to rooftops and took off again. Others were racing away from the city as fast as they could.

  The deafening assault was a roar, as if the city itself were crying out from the disease it found itself infected with. The police, army, and their weapons were its defense system, rushing through its veiny streets to attack this new aggressor and remove it from its body. But the disease was unrelenting, clawing and biting and fighting, a new danger the world had not effectively inoculated itself against.

  And now they were paying the price.

  Sharon was right. There would come a day when the human race was tested. That day, as it turned out, was today.

  Bodies lay on the street, hacked and beaten and pulverized beyond recognition. Some hung out of shop windows, impaled on shards of glass. Others were half-devoured, dragged out of their cars like fresh produce from tin cans. A car burned on the corner of the street. It was buried in the embrace of a shop window. Many had chunks of flesh missing from their exposed chests and arms. Others looked like they’d fallen where they stood.

  A man with a child in his arms ran down the road, his face a frozen montage of fear. He tripped and landed on the child he carried in his arms, its limbs rolling and flapping along the sidewalk like a rag doll. If it hadn’t been dead, it certainly had to be now. It should have been screaming to the heavens in pain. The boy’s father must have known this. He crouched over the child. Dana couldn’t see the tears in his eyes, but she could taste them.

  A gang of figures shuffled up behind the man, fell to their knees as if in a stance of supplication, before tearing into him.

  The once-proud city of Seattle was overrun.

  “Max…” Dana said in a breathy gasp.

  “Max is your boyfriend?” Sharon said.

  “My sister,” Dana said.

  “We’ve got family too,” Janice said. “Let’s get out of here and find somewhere safe.”

  Before they took a step into their new world, Janice shouted, “Look out!”

  She barreled forward, knocking Dana to the ground.

  Shards of concrete spat at Dana, and red brick dust rained on her skin. Right where her head had been were several new pin-sized holes. Janice hadn’t been joking when she’d said they would be targets as escaped prisoners.

  They were safe now, crouched behind a car.

  “Thanks,” Dana said, pushing herself up from the pavement, her palms leaving bloody stains.

  “Damn pigs,” Sharon said. “You’d have thought they had bigger fish to fry than us now, wouldn’t you?”

  “They’re shooting at everything,” Janice said. “We’ve got to get out of here.”

  “On the count of three,” Sharon said. “We’ll make for the end of the street.”

  Dana looked where she was pointing. It seemed a long way. But it was the closest exit Dana could see.

  “One…” Sharon said.

  “Count backwards, not forwards!” Janice said.

  “What difference does it make?” Sharon said.

  “Three, two…” Janice said.

  “One, two…” Sharon said.

  “One!” Janice said at the same time Sharon said, “Three!”

  Dana w
as off to a flying start, thankful for the gym classes she hadn’t skipped. Having her cuffed hands in front of her as opposed to behind her like Janice and Sharon also proved an advantage.

  Gunshots echoed off the walls as tiny holes popped into existence in the brickwork. Dana wasn’t sure if they were deliberate shots or not. She supposed it didn’t matter. She reached the corner, skidded, and leapt behind it.

  Sharon and Janice were less than a few seconds behind her. They stood with their backs to the wall, getting their breath back.

  “They shot at us!” Janice said between gasps. “They actually shot at us!”

  “Their aim can’t be up to much if they missed you,” Sharon said.

  They shared a look and burst into relieved gales of laughter, hindered by oxygen debt repayments.

  “Now which way do we go?” Janice said.

  “Home,” Sharon said. “My kids will be frightened.”

  “So am I,” Janice said.

  “You should come with me,” Sharon said. “Both of you.”

  “I have to get to my parents’,” Dana said. “Max needs me.”

  “So here’s where we part ways,” Sharon said. “Thank you for everything, Dana. Remember to always think outside the box. That way you can prevent yourself from ever having to be buried in one prematurely.”

  “Thanks,” Dana said.

  They shared a smile and shook hands. There was a low whistle and a hollow thud, like hammering a stubborn nail into knotted wood.

  Sharon’s smile faded, replaced with a frown. She stepped forward, unable to keep her feet under her. Dana caught her. A sliver of blood seeped from the corner of her mouth and dribbled down her chin.

  “What happened?” Janice said. “What’s wrong with her?”

  Dana pressed her hand to Sharon’s back. It came away red. Her finger found a hole in Sharon’s dress.

  “It’s a bullet hole,” Dana said. “She was shot.”

  Chapter Twelve

  DANA AND JANICE dragged Sharon around the corner, out of range of whoever had shot her. This street was empty.

  “My kids…” Sharon said. “My kids…”

  “Your kids aren’t here,” Janice said. “Hold on. We’ll get you to them soon.”

  Sharon shook her head. Blood erupted from her mouth and splattered the front of her dress.

  “Take care…” Sharon said. “Take care… Of my kids.”

  “Don’t worry about them,” Janice said. “I’ll take care of them, fight for them, the same as if they were my own. You just focus on getting better.”

  “Maybe their aim is better than I thought after all,” Sharon said with a smile. “To hit me and not you.”

  Sharon grinned. Her head lay back and her grin faded.

  “Sharon?” Janice said. “Sharon?”

  “She’s gone,” Dana said.

  “No…” Janice said. “She can’t be. She was fine a minute ago. This isn’t… This can’t be… Sharon!”

  Sharon had the distant gaze of the dead, seeing what no living person could. Dana laid Sharon’s head down gently. It seemed wrong to leave her like that, her eyes open and staring at nothing. She drew her eyelids closed.

  “What am I going to do without her?” Janice said, tears streaming down her round cheeks. “We’ve been together since we were kids.”

  “Now you’re going to have to be by yourself,” Dana said. “You have to go to her kids. Take care of them as if they were your own, like you said.”

  “I don’t have any kids,” Janice said. “Not anymore. My baby… He turned into something at the end. A monster. One of those things that thinks of nothing but feeding. That’s why he bit me.”

  “Then you’ll have to learn,” Dana said.

  Janice nodded, though it wasn’t done with much confidence. Dana didn’t have time to give her the pep talk she clearly required. She needed to get to Max, get her to safety.

  First, she had to get her hands free if she was going to be any use to Max. But how was she going to do that?

  Perhaps they could locate a hardware store. But those would likely be one of the first places—after food stores—people would hit once the reality of their situation settled in. And wherever there were people, there were likely to be these animal-human things too. She needed a better, safer solution.

  And then she saw one. It winked at her in the sunlight.

  “Where are you going?” Janice said.

  “To get a hands free kit,” Dana said.

  It had occurred to Dana earlier that by the angle Sharon had been shot, the bullet had to have originated from the street they’d just run from. She checked both ways before stepping into the street and heading toward a familiar face.

  Officer Torres lay in the middle of the road, one hand on his innards in an attempt to hold them in. His other hand was outstretched, for a pistol just beyond reach, pointed in Janice’s direction.

  Dana couldn’t identify what had had taken place, only that it was a shame it hadn’t lasted longer. And yet, perhaps it needn’t end right then.

  Dana leaned down and put her lips to Torres’ remaining ear.

  “Officer Torres!” she shouted.

  His eyes burst open, startled. He glanced about himself, as if waking from a deep dream. He clearly didn’t expect to find himself where he was.

  His eyes alighted on Dana. It took a moment for recognition to register. Once it did, he immediately reached for his pistol.

  Dana stepped on Torres’ forearm, keeping his arm pinned down. He scrabbled with his fingers at the pistol, but only succeeded in pushing it farther from his grip. Then his hand paused and hung limply. He gave up reaching for it.

  “I was having a good dream,” Torres said.

  “The rest of us are having a nightmare,” Dana said. “Didn’t seem right for you to miss it.”

  Dana crouched and reached into Torres’ pocket.

  “A little more to the left,” Torres said with a sly grin.

  He groaned as the pain overtook him. Dana pulled out a keychain. She sorted through each key, testing it in her handcuffs.

  “I was aiming for you, you know,” Torres said.

  “I figured as much,” Dana said. “You missed. Instead, you killed an innocent mother with scared kids at home.”

  “There was nothing innocent about Sharon O’Reilly,” Torres said. “Each of her kids was sired by a different suitor.”

  “She had a lot of love to give,” Dana said.

  “That’s one way to put it,” Torres said.

  The handcuff lock clicked. Dana tossed the handcuffs aside. She picked up Torres’ pistol—a Glock 19—and tucked it in her pants.

  “Shoot me,” Torres said.

  “And do you the kindness you did to Sharon?” Dana said.

  “You’re an escaped prisoner,” Torres said. “It’s my duty to recapture you.”

  “I think we have slightly more pressing things to worry about right now, don’t you?” Dana said.

  “Nothing is more pressing than upholding our laws,” Torres said.

  “That’ll be why we lose this city,” Dana said. “Underestimating what’s going on here. I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I do know it’s not something we should underestimate.”

  Torres smiled.

  “Then perhaps there’s hope for you yet,” he said.

  He barked a laugh.

  “What so funny?” Dana said.

  “Don’t you see?” Torres said. “It’s damn hilarious. You criminals. You’re the ones who’ll survive in this world. The ones who bucked the rules, determined to exist, like cockroaches, even when the heel of the law crushed you. Let’s see how you do at rebuilding society in your own image. Then you’ll see what we were up against.”

  “There will be no society in my image,” Dana said. “Only me surviving.”

  “Survival of the fittest,” Torres said. “Good luck.”

  The words gave Dana pause for thought. Was he right? Was this what the
world was becoming? Was this what the animal creatures had given them, given her? A fresh slate? Dana didn’t know which reality she preferred. Probably neither.

  “We’ve got company,” Janice said.

  For a large woman, she could certainly move quietly.

  “Hungry company,” Janice said in emphasis.

  During their conversation, the gunshots down the street had slowed and dissipated. The shambling figures had overpowered the police force and were heading their way.

  Had Torres deliberately tried to delay her? Tried to distract her from the developments taking place behind them? His eyes were shut again. He’d probably passed into unconsciousness.

  Dana lifted her foot to wake him again, and then set it down. Having to contend with people like Dana, Janice and Sharon, Torres’ life had already been a nightmare. There was no need for his death to be one as well. Besides, soon his body would be torn asunder like a swarm of ravenous locusts passing over a new crop.

  Dana unlocked Janice’s handcuffs and together they ran.

  Chapter Thirteen

  JANICE WAS hot on Dana’s heels, breathing heavily. The lurching figures had seen them run down their current road, and so Dana hung a right, down a road the figures wouldn’t have seen.

  They came to a stop behind a large dumpster. Janice joined her thirty seconds later. She was walking as she approached Dana, her huge flabby hands on her wide waist. Hers was not a body made for long distance running. Or any running, for that matter. Her face was flushed red and dripping with sweat. Large wet patches drenched her T-shirt. They hadn’t even run that far.

  “Are you all right?” Dana said.

  “No,” Janice said. “Not really.”

  She leaned against the brick wall, pressing her forearm to her head.

  “I don’t feel so good,” Janice said.

  She certainly didn’t look good. Dana didn’t much care. She couldn’t sit around and wait for her. She had somewhere to be, a sibling to help. But yet she couldn’t leave her, not right then. She had saved her life, and though it angered Dana, hating being indebted to someone, she gritted her teeth and waited.

  “Sit down,” Dana said. “Get your breath back.”