by S. A. Lusher
Reality snapped into focus.
Greg lay perfectly still. He was on his back, staring up at a gritty, tiled ceiling cast in a thin gray light. For a long moment that seem to stretch into eternity, absolutely nothing moved, nothing shifted. It seemed as though he wasn't even breathing. There was nothing in his head. No thoughts, no memories, no emotions.
Nothing.
Something seemed to click then, and it was like someone hit a reboot button. Memories slid into his skull. They were little more than a trickle at first, but quickly built until a tidal wave had been released from a burst dam. The first thing that really grabbed his attention was the fact that the light appeared to be coming from a single source. It wasn't being provided by overhead lights, instead by what was likely a flashlight.
“What happened?” His voice came out in a dry croak.
Someone shifted nearby and abruptly Kyra's pale, beautiful face came into his field of vision. She looked concerned, but deeply relieved.
“Oh, thank God,” she whispered, reaching out and placing a cool hand against his cheek. “I thought you were dead, honey.”
Greg managed a weak laugh. “Now you're the one using pet names.”
Kyra broke into a genuine smile, leaned down to kiss him, and then hesitated.
“What?” he asked.
“You were hit by the infection. A Creeper jumped on your back, bit you. I thought you were dead, and then I remembered you had the Cure in you. Burne nearly blew your head off right then and there,” Kyra explained.
“Shit,” Greg moaned. He felt exhausted and dull, his head clogged with a thick mental fog that seemed to mire everything in confusion.
“Are you okay? Here.” She lifted his head and brought a canteen to his lips. He drank deeply from it.
“Thanks.” He coughed and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “What happened? Why's it so dark?”
“Campbell and I carried you to the infirmary. Burne followed us, hung around for a little while. He got some kind of call and left. The power just went out a minute ago. I'm not sure what's going on, but I wasn't going to leave you.”
“Thanks...how long was I out?”
“About half an hour. I think you were hallucinating before you passed out. You had a pretty bad fever, but it finally broke. What I think happened was the infection hit you, then ran into the Cure, and a bit of a battle raged in your body. But it looks like the Cure won out. It's just me here, everyone else ran off when the power went out. And...there's another thing, Greg. They found out about your arm. Burne was pissed.”
Greg heaved a sigh and pushed himself up on his elbows. The world tilted and swam, then slowly began to right itself again. He sat up all the way.
“Fantastic,” he muttered.
Greg reached down and ran his hand along his metal arm. The secret was out. Slowly, he clenched the silver hand into a fist. Maybe it was time he put the thing to use. It could definitely take a long more punishment than a regular arm...
“You didn't kiss me.” He stared at her.
She frowned. “I'm sorry. It's nothing personal, it's just...well, I don't know if you're still...infected. I guess. I mean, you might not turn, but you might be able to spread the infection now. I mean, it's unlikely, I think...but I don't know. I do know that if our roles were reversed, I'd never be able to live with myself if I infected you like that.”
“Yeah, that makes sense. I guess we should try to run some medical scans when we get a chance. Until then, I'll just save it up,” Greg replied.
Kyra laughed and helped him up. He stood there for a moment, his equilibrium momentarily screwy. It settled faster than before. He looked down at himself, at his torn and bloodied uniform. His skin was still the same color. He turned, looked around and spotted a mirror over a sink across the way. He crossed the infirmary and stared at his reflection. His eyes looked normal, his teeth. Nothing was different.
“I think I'm okay,” he said. “I guess I can't get infected. I definitely don't want to go through that again. I was hallucinating, by the way. It was...ugly. Where's my gun? We should probably go figure out what the hell is happening.”
“Here.” Kyra passed him his belt, which still had a holster and pistol attached to it. “I took it off. Didn't want you rolling over on your gun.”
“Thanks.” Greg put it back on, pulled his pistol out and checked it.
Satisfied, he replaced the pistol and checked to see if his comms unit was still in his ear. It was. He was impressed that it hadn't fallen out in all the chaos.
“I turned it off,” Kyra said.
“So thoughtful,” Greg replied with a smirk.
He turned the radio back on. Immediately, a babble of hectic voices, many of them on the verge of panic, filled his ear. He listened for a long moment and managed to piece together that the power outage was no mere accident.
“Come on,” Greg said, heading for the door.
Kyra grabbed her flashlight, which she'd set on another examination table, and Greg pulled out his pistol and flicked on the little light mounted on the end of the muzzle. He opened the door and peered cautiously into the corridor beyond.
There was nothing and nobody there, just darkness, but he could hear voices somewhere close by.
“I'm not sure where we are, know how to get to the main hangar from here?” he asked.
“Yeah, come on,” Kyra replied.
They stepped out into the corridor and set off.
* * * * *
The main hangar was in chaos.
Several work-lights, operating off a portable generator, had been set up. Most of them were pointed at the entryways. Dozens of men and women scurried about, all of them performing different tasks. Greg and Kyra moved through the chaos, ultimately finding Lynch, Mike, and Campbell centered around Powell's set up, which was still running.
“Hey, what'd I miss?” Greg asked as they came to a stop.
Burne spun on him and raised his pistol.
“Whoa, whoa, relax,” Campbell said.
“You shut up. You're lucky we let you in here without a leash,” Burne snapped.
“Burne, relax,” Lynch said. Her voice brooked no argument. Burne reluctantly lowered his pistol, but didn't put it away.
Lynch cast an appraising eye over Greg, her gaze lingering briefly on his metal arm, which was exposed now. “He's not drooling, not trying to kill me, his eyes look fine. I don't think he's a zombie, Burne.”
“He's a special case. They told me he was at ground zero,” Burne replied.
“Yes, I heard all that over the radio. If there's one thing I've learned about this infection, it's that it's not a subtle thing. Besides, we've got bigger things to worry about right now. Our primary generator failed and no one can tell me why. Which means someone's going to have to go down there and eyeball it in person,” Lynch replied.
“I'll go,” Greg said.
“Figured as much,” Lynch replied. “This might be serious, so I'll let you take both your friends and some of mine. Campbell, Mercer, Mike, and Linda, you guys get to gear up and go down with Bishop to the generator. Mike, you know where it is, get them there. Linda, fix it, figure out what the problem is.”
There were a handful of affirmative replies and the group broke away. Greg heard Burne arguing with Lynch, but put it out of his mind. He tried to be angry at the man for threatening him, but couldn't. Greg would have done the same thing if their roles had been reversed. Even he wasn't sure about his own virulence.
He put his pistol back and grabbed a shotgun and a rifle, making sure he was loaded down with ammo, as he'd lost his arsenal back in the garage. Greg took stock of himself as he moved with the group out of the hangar and down a corridor. His dizziness had passed, he didn't have a headache, his body kind of ached, but nothing felt terminally wrong within him. Of course, he knew he'd need to have an in-depth scan.
They found a hatch that would take them down to the tunnels, which was, apparently, where they kept their prim
ary generator. Greg made sure to go down first, since he now knew that being hit by the infection wasn't a death sentence, just a painful inconvenience. He hurried down the ladder and hopped off when he got to the bottom, landing in a small storage room. After clearing it, he moved over to the door and opened it up.
A pitch-black, rocky tunnel lay beyond. Greg listened as the others joined him. Things moved in the tunnel, lurking in the shadows.
“Don't forget to watch out for Speed Demons, or Rippers,” he called back to them as they gathered in the storage room.
“Or any of the other bullshit we've run into,” Campbell muttered unhappily.
Greg chuckled. “Anyway, it looks clear for now, come on.”
He'd already turned on the flashlight mounted on the end of his shotgun. He played it across the area again as he stepped out, moving it in a slow, broad arc.
“Which way?” he asked.
“To the right,” Mike replied. “It's a door along the left-hand side of the tunnel, maybe twenty meters down, not too far away.”
“Good. Let's get going.”
The group moved out into the tunnel and set off. As they came closer to the generator, Greg became convinced he could hear conflict. It came to him in bits and pieces, echoing through the dead darkness of the mining tunnels. Gunshots, roars, the hectic, chaotic sounds of battle. He didn't hear any screaming though.
A thought occurred to him.
“You guys hear that?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Kyra replied.
“Me too,” Campbell said.
“I think it might be the Augmented fighting the Undead,” Greg murmured.
“Thank God. Those two can keep each other busy,” Mike replied.
When they reached the primary generator, the sounds of conflict had grown steadily louder and clearer. Further down the way, the tunnel lit with gunfire, tracers, and the occasional explosion. Greg opened the door to the generator room and looked around. He didn't see anything waiting for them and stepped in.
“Come on, looks clear,” he murmured.
The others joined him inside, their flashlights lighting up the room. Greg studied the generator room. It was mostly an empty space, big, but not enormous like a warehouse or cavern. There were some tables and shelves pushed up against the walls to either side of him, and what might have been a few workstations. The far wall was taken up entirely by diagnostics equipment and readout screens. It served as an outer casing for the generator itself.
“Alright, come on, Linda, let's check this out,” Mike said.
They crossed the room. Greg frowned. He heard something that sounded like metal scraping, very gently, against something else. He looked around, his gaze sweeping the room. There was nowhere to hide. Not under the tables, not behind shelves, not in the shadows, they revealed nothing. Where could it possibly be coming from?
There was nowhere to hide...except-
Greg looked up.
He screamed.
Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. Greg raised his gun. The others shifted, looking around for whatever unseen threat had caused his reaction. Overhead, he saw half a dozen Augmented Drones attached to the ceiling, lying in wait.
They detached themselves, letting gravity take them...
All hell broke loose.
The Drones dropped among the survivors. Greg leveled his shotgun at one and blew its head clean off. One of them spun around and hit Campbell squarely in the chest, sending him flying. Mike let out a sharp bark of pain as one managed to clip his arm with a blade. Gunfire erupted. Kyra hit one with a three-round burst from her rifle. Linda put her pistol to one Drone's face and emptied half a magazine into it.
Greg grunted as one of them slammed into him, trying to bring him to the ground. He rolled as he fell and it lost its grip on him. Someone ran up and shot it in the head. As he scrambled to his feet, he saw that they'd managed to put down all six of them.
“Holy shit,” Linda whispered harshly. “That was a hell of a trap.”
“Yeah. Fucking stupid, I should've seen that.” Greg helped Campbell to his feet. “You okay?”
“Yeah. Don't think I cracked anything,” he replied miserably.
“They had to have killed the power,” Mike said.
“We'll watch the door, check it. Hurry,” Greg replied.
The pair nodded and turned their attention to the readout screens. They worked silently while Greg, Kyra, and Campbell double-checked every conceivable hiding place and then moved to guard the only way in.
Greg looked out into the tunnel while the two worked. The midnight gloom seemed to push in on them from every direction, despite their flashlights. The sounds of conflict were closer. Greg doubted that the Drones needed light to see, but he wondered about the Undead. Were they at a disadvantage, or could they see in the dark via some extra sense? Either way, it sounded like a truly epic war was being waged in the tunnels.
“Does that thing like...hurt?” Campbell asked suddenly.
Greg glanced over at him. He realized Campbell was looking down at his metal arm. He looked down at it, then back up at Campbell.
“Sometimes, but I think it's a phantom pain,” Greg replied.
“Phantom pain?” Campbell asked.
“Like when you get your hair cut really short after it's been really long, and for a little while, you think it’s still there and you can still kind of feel it. You know?” Kyra explained.
“Yeah, I guess. Man, that sucks,” Campbell said.
“Understatement of the century,” Greg muttered.
“How'd you get it?” Mike asked from across the room.
Greg glanced over. Mike and Linda still had their backs turned, working on the generator, but he could tell they were very interested.
“The Augmented captured me, strapped me to a table, and cut my fucking arm off with a bone saw,” he replied. “I passed out and when I woke up it was there.”
There was a long silence.
“That sucks,” Linda said.
Greg laughed. “Yeah, understatement of the century, again.”
More seconds ticked by in forbidding gloom. Finally, Linda straightened up.
“We're fucked,” she declared.
“Why? What's wrong?” Greg asked.
“They've completely severed this thing. It'll take a long time and a big team to fix and honestly, we don't have the time or the resources.”
“So, we're screwed?” Campbell asked.
“No, not completely,” Mike said. “There's a pair of emergency generators further on down the tunnel. We need to get there and activate them, and make sure nothing gets to them.”
“Alright...shit, let's go.”
They left the generator room and came back into the main tunnel. The fighting was definitely closer. The survivors moved quickly towards the chaos, sticking to the left-hand side of the tunnel, trying to keep out of the way. Mike assured them the generator rooms weren't too far away, just another couple of dozen meters down the way.
Greg stared at the chaos of conflict, starkly lit by flashes of gunfire, and realized that he'd been right. It was Augmented versus Undead. They were ripping into each other with an insane ferocity that held no room for mercy or reason. Drones battled more than twice their number in zombies, Speed Demons, Rippers, and Lancers, with a few Berserkers thrown in. But more and more Drones seemed to come from somewhere.
Greg and the others slipped by unnoticed for the most part. Occasionally, a zombie or Drone would get too close and have to be put down, but they managed to reach the first back-up generator without running into any real trouble. As before, Greg, Kyra, and Campbell guarded the door while Linda and Mike worked on the equipment.
Nothing came and tried to break the door down while they worked. Greg could feel his muscles become more and more tense in apprehension. Ten agonizing minutes passed before there was a sharp click and Mike called out,
“Done!”
“Why aren't there any lights?” Kyra as
ked.
“We need to activate both before they lights come back on,” Linda replied.
“Well...I'm not sure it'd be a good idea to leave this one unguarded. It’s obvious the Augmented have it out for us and know where to hit us,” Greg said.
“Good point, let's call for reinforcements now that we know what the hell is actually going on down here,” Mike replied.
Greg listened while he called up to Lynch and explained the situation. A moment later she promised to send Burne down with a squad of his better security personnel. They waited in grim darkness, listening to the sounds of conflict slowly dying down.
“When Burne gets close, we're going to head out there and help them mop up,” Greg said.
The others agreed and gathered by the door. Several more moments passed, and then Burne let them know via the radio that he and his men were near. Greg opened the door and went out guns blazing. The others joined him, blasting away the surviving members of the Undead and the Augmented. Caught between Greg and his squad and Burne and his squad, both groups of enemies were quickly reduced to a heap of corpses.
Burne crossed the field of bodies and joined Greg and the others.
“Get to it,” he growled, still clearly pissed about the whole metal-arm, infection situation.
Greg tried not to hold it against him. Greg and the others moved into the second generator room, cleared it and then fired it up. After a sharp click, followed by a loud pop, the lights flickered to life and the soothing sound of white noise whispered through the area. Greg felt an immense relief flow through him.
“Come on, let's get back topside,” Linda said.
Greg listened to Burne ordering his men to hang around down in the tunnel and guard the generators with their lives.
As they made their way back up, Lynch came onto the radio.
“We've got another problem.”
Chapter 08
–Apprehension–
By the time they'd reemerged from beneath the dead surface of the moon, Lynch had managed to paint the whole grim picture for them. Greg found the whole thing mind-boggling. How could so many things possibly go wrong? It seemed as though there would be some kind of natural law, something intrinsic about the universe that would give you a break, a short reprieve, even for an hour or two.