by Sawyer, JT
He waited for the four nearby creatures to delve into the carcass and then he took a deep breath and began moving. Slowly opening the left rear door, he slid onto the entrail-encrusted pavement, shuffling towards the deceased marshal, taking pains not to soil his Nikes by stepping in any blood. Then he scanned along the nylon ballistic belt for any signs of the handcuff keys, then padded the soiled pockets. He felt something in the front pants pocket and reached inside and pulled out a pair of stainless-steel keys, trying to suppress a slight grin.
Then he moved backwards to the driver’s door and insinuated himself between the seat and the punctured air bag, trying not to look at the bloated figure beside him. He removed a folding knife from the pants pocket of the deceased marshal and flicked it open, then pierced the edge of the airbag. The marshal collapsed into the door, his head thunking against the tinted window. The engine was still idling and the vent blew a stream of cold air across the man’s pale forehead and his unblinking eyes.
Jared stowed the blade and removed the marshal’s pistol and spare magazines. Then he began working the miniscule key into the left cuff while crouching low. With one side free, he inserted the key into the right cuff, but it wouldn’t fit. He tried again but the key would only enter part way. He grimaced and slowly tried manipulating the key, but something was jammed in the tiny portal, preventing entry. “What the hell are these, some cheap Asian imports?” he muttered as he switched to forcefully trying to make the key fit. As he twisted it in place and started cursing, his right foot accidentally thrust the ignition pedal down, causing the engine to rev. Out of all the times to have trouble getting out of handcuffs, it has to be today, really?
Jared froze and looked over the half-arc of the steering wheel at the four creatures on the sidewalk, which were now standing and sniffing the air. “Shit, looks like our getaway just got bumped up, partner,” he said, sitting erect and glancing at the body next to him. He stuffed the key in his shirt pocket and thrust the shifter in reverse with his manacled hand. The creatures broke into a run, their shrieks piercing the inky black street around him.
As he spun the Crown-Vic around, the headlights shone on dozens of creatures slipping out from the confines of alleys and storefronts. With the ghastly images filling the rearview mirror, he slammed the gear into drive and raced forward along the littered street. He careened against an abandoned bus and towards the university. The building's light in the distance, which had served as his only talisman of hope, grew brighter with each second.
More wrinkly-faced monsters began pouring into the street behind him like a flash flood raging through a canyon. His eyes grew wide as he saw hundreds of them sprinting behind the vehicle. He looked over at the slumped figure of the marshal lolling against the door. “You should’ve worn a seatbelt, bro, and you’d still be here to dish out justice,” he said, leaning over and opening the door. “Glad you could help with my getaway though, Sergeant Q-Tip.” He shoved the man out the door onto the street and continued speeding away. In the mirror, he saw the tangle of creatures slow as they descended upon the bloated body.
“A good payoff comes from stellar planning. Such a great mind, all alone in so small a world,” he said with a grin, looking at the shrinking images of his pursuers in the rearview mirror while trying to ignore the fear thrashing at his insides. As he redirected his eyes back to the dimly lit street ahead, the car ran over an upturned Harley Davidson, causing Jared’s head to bounce into the padded ceiling, followed by a grinding noise as the bike wedged itself under the front axle. He could see sparks showering the pavement in every direction.
“Nice going, Ace,” he shouted as the Crown-Vic sputtered along the street, coming to a halt beside a burger shop half a block from campus. The car’s engine chortled and smoke rose from the seams of the hood. Jared swung open the door and leapt onto the sidewalk, both Glocks in his hands. He ran a few feet forward and then abruptly spun around, racing back to the vehicle and popping the trunk latch. Then he dashed around the rear and removed his faded Tommy Hilfiger daypack. Flinging it over a shoulder, he sprinted towards the four-story campus building ahead, his Nikes crunching along the endless glass shards from broken storefronts. As he ran, he could hear the surrounding corridors between buildings begin to fill with the sound of shuffling and shrieking.
The illuminated building ahead shone like a lighthouse to a lone sailor. Jared’s pace increased as the sound of his panting was drowned out by the menacing noises permeating the oppressive night air.
Chapter 13
Carlie led the weary group through the arid tunnel while scanning the gray concrete walls for directional indicators. The passageway was only four feet wide and seven feet high and used by maintenance workers for the electrical conduits that ran overhead. She caught movement on the floor ahead and saw a crème-colored scorpion scurry away from her flashlight. Moving by a blue folding ladder, she saw a schematic diagram on the wall. Carlie tore the laminated sheet off and studied the layout.
“This map coincides with the initial recon Secret Service did on these tunnels. It looks like we will come to an intersection in another hundred meters and then we have our choice of going to Drachman Hall, the Nursing School, or Skaggs Pharmaceutical Center,” she said while looking at Eliza and the professor. “Our security details have studied the layout of the campus extensively but since you both spend way more time here, do you have any thoughts on which one has more windows and doors and therefore should be avoided?”
“The pharmaceutical center has immense brick walls to retain the cool air inside and is usually unoccupied on weekends. That would be a good choice compared to the other locations,” said the professor, who was flitting his fingers around in his pants pockets.
“That’s my recollection as well,” said Carlie. “When we did the initial security sweeps of the campus buildings, that place stood out as being pretty fortified. We’ll stay put there until we can get out a message and I can get a better look outside for potential escape routes.”
“So what then? After we go to the pharmacy building, do we just wait or is someone else coming?” said Eliza, whose eyes were welling up with tears and panic.
“I want you to just focus on the sound of the ground beneath your feet as we walk this tunnel, Eliza. After we get up top and scout the area, I’ll fashion a new plan for dealing with what lies ahead.” Carlie had worked with Eliza enough during the past year to know that she was not a simpering brat, but she also knew that Eliza’s stubbornness coupled with her status had caused others to cave in to her demands. It had been a constant struggle between Eliza and the rest of her security detail to come to an agreeable daily schedule that would keep her safety at the forefront while allowing her the illusion of some personal freedom.
“But what if…” Eliza said through trembling lips.
“Shh—there are no ‘what-ifs,’ only the next plan and the next one after that until one of them works and we get out of here, no matter what it takes or how long we have to endure this. We will get out of here.”
She nudged Eliza on the shoulder and then led the way into the dark tunnel, scanning ahead for any signs of movement.
Carlie whispered over her shoulder to the older man behind Eliza, “So, Professor, what exactly are you a professor of? Anything that can help us out?”
“Immunobiology is my specialty. I do stroke research, specifically looking into what causes breakdowns in the brain’s vascular systems and how to prevent it, though I’m afraid I am at a loss as to what is happening.”
“Well, any clue on whether this is bacteriological or viral?” said Phillip.
“My thought would be viral but not much can be ascertained until blood samples from victims have been analyzed, though the sagging facial features are intriguing. That is something usually associated with Bell’s palsy, which is caused by damage to the facial nerves. The degree to which this has manifested itself may indicate something connected with viral meningitis, which is what most scientists beli
eve triggers Bell’s palsy.”
Great—more mystery to add to the bellyful I already have today, thought Carlie.
Chapter 14
Eight stories up, at the downtown division of the DEA building, Shane was adjusting the night scope on his suppressed .308 rifle as he squatted along the low concrete wall. Beside him were six other men equally poised, each one scanning the dimly lit streets below for signs of movement. A recent thundercloud had settled over the city and was sending a light patter of rain over downtown.
After completing the debrief earlier that afternoon, he and his team had walked downtown to the pizzeria when they heard about the attacks unfolding throughout the city. A wave of crazed people had already swept through the streets around them and he and his men found themselves trapped between their location and the DEA headquarters. Using their service pistols, they were initially able to hold a defensible perimeter in the office three stories above as thousands of people were slaughtered below. They waited until nightfall to evade the attackers and make their way back to the tac-ops center. By day’s end, the six-man team had made it back to their headquarters to find it devoid of life.
Matias leaned over towards him. “I’ve got a cluster of tangos down by the hardware store three blocks away. They just keep walking into things and stumbling over themselves like drunken frat boys. I don’t think these things can see very well in low light.”
“Yeah, I think you’re right. There are about a dozen over by the courthouse, some of which just fell onto a clump of cacti and are all tangled up,” said Shane, staring at the illuminated green images in his scope. “Although, wait a minute,” he said, staring at three creatures who had shimmied alongside one another and were busy smelling the nighttime air. “I think they’re onto someone nearby.”
He watched as the trio started sprinting towards a small bakery and crashed through the front window. They dragged out two men and began ripping them apart. Shane fixed his sights on the creature’s heads and dropped them. “Damn, these things may not see well but they got the nose of a tracking dog.” He racked another round into his rifle. “Alright, let’s go to work, boys. It’s time to reduce the population of those coconut heads and give any survivors below a chance at staying alive through tonight.”
The rooftop became the scene of muffled gunfire coupled with subtle muzzle blasts as their sniper rifles delivered countless rounds downrange into the soft heads of creatures roaming the street. With a payload of weapons and millions of rounds of ammo in the armory vault below, there was little concern about running low at this point and each man continued systematically culling the yellow-faced denizens below.
Thirty minutes later, Shane fired his last round and slid out the empty magazine. “Let’s call it a night for now, boys. Tomorrow we can see what’s left down there.”
“And what about our families?” said Mark, a thickset shooter leaning against the wall and pouring water from his canteen over his begrizzled face.
“This building was as far as we could get for now,” Shane said. “I don’t want any losses. Until we can get some fresh intel tomorrow and come up with a plan for getting your loved ones out of harm’s way, we’ll stay put.” He lowered his rifle on the warm asphalt roof and took off his boonie hat, letting the raindrops wash over his face. “I know we’re all in strung-out shape from being in the field and coming into this shit-storm, but stay frosty.”
“Roger that,” came the reply of tired voices around him.
Matias sat back on his pack. “I’ll take the first watch, so why don’t the rest of you go down below, down some chow, and get a bit of rest, if you can.”
Each man stood partway up so as not to expose his figure above the roof’s retaining wall, and made his way to the stairwell.
Shane stayed behind and sat down against the landing pad of the helicopter they had come in earlier in the day. He pulled out an MRE package from his pack. Tearing open the foil, he extended it to Matias.
“Not only no—but hell no, sir! You can’t get me to take in another spoonful of that shit. The pigeon droppings on these roof shingles would make a better meal.”
“You’re a funny guy—I mean funny, ha-ha not funny queer. Just don’t wake me later because you got a tummy ache from not getting in a late-night dinner.”
Both men laughed but their smiles quickly faded. “What the hell you think is going on, Shane? I know we were out of touch with the world for a stretch but I ain’t never heard of anything like this before.”
“I wish I had an answer. Notice how we didn’t even hear about any signs of the National Guard being deployed or road blocks being put up by the Sheriff’s Department. Whatever this is, it unfolded fast and caught everyone by surprise.”
Matias wiped the rain off his face and then stretched out his hand towards Shane. “Alright, you got me wondering what I’m missing with your dinner. I’ll take a hit off that MRE pouch, now.”
“You hypocritical motherfucker. That is so like you. Just like when I’m taking a dip of chew and you’re like, ‘No, sir, none for me—that shit’ll kill you,’ and then five minutes later you’re asking for my tobacco tin.”
“Geez, mi hermano, now you’re sounding like my wife. Always riding my back—getting on me about trivial matters.” Matias grew quiet and looked down.
“I know, my friend, I’m worried about everyone’s families, too,” Shane said slowly, glancing up at the clouds and thinking back to Carlie’s lovely face from earlier that morning. Hope you made it out alive, mi amiga.
Chapter 15
As the service tunnel ended, Carlie climbed up the rusty metal steps, brushing aside rat droppings as she went. She tried lifting the hatch but it was locked from the other side. She used the butt end of her rifle to repeatedly slam the attachment while holding on to the ladder with her other hand.
Once it was open, she slowly lifted the hatch an inch to survey the lobby area. All she could see was the gray underside of steps, as the entry was located directly under the first-floor staircase. She climbed out and swept the corners ahead, then motioned to the others to come up.
Once inside, Phillip and Carlie cleared the small lobby area while the professor and Eliza huddled together under the stairs.
The Skaggs Pharmaceutical Building was a two-story structure with only a few skylights in the ceiling and immense brick walls which helped to keep the structure at an even sixty degrees year-round. Walking along the sterile corridor near the front desk, both of them swept along the first floor, which consisted of a toxicology lab, drug repositories, a refrigeration unit for pharmaceuticals, and faculty offices. The building was evidently not occupied on weekends and Carlie could see the deadbolts on the solid steel front doors were still in place. The only windows were overhead skylights that had computer-controlled louvres and shades with special filters to block excessive UV rays. Dusk was upon campus as the last slivers of light pierced through the overhead windowpanes.
“This building seems defensible with the high brick walls and only a few overhead windows, right?” Phillip said.
“We don’t have a choice for now,” Carlie said. “Let’s rest here for a while, rehydrate, and see if I can make contact with HQ.”
“Do your comms only patch into the downtown office?” said Phillip.
“Yes, but we may be able to get through to central command in Washington on the sat phone in the vehicle—if I can get to it.”
“You mean the sat phone…out there,” he said. pointing the muzzle of his rifle forward while running his other hand back along his sweaty forehead.
Carlie frowned, thinking of standard operating procedures. Normally, there would have been two more rescue teams in by now and numerous airborne assets on the rooftops. HQ must have been totally caught off guard and are either locked down fighting for their own survival or... She paused, rolling her shoulders forward. Or…dead.
She knelt down and removed all the magazines and weapons from her vest and shoulder holster and laid them
on the cement floor, then did an inventory of the remaining rounds. “Give me five minutes to saddle up here and swig down some water and then I’ll be on my way. In the meantime, I want you to stalk up to the east window and recon the path to the Suburban.”
Eliza stepped forward with her hands folded over her chest. “We could be out searching for other survivors, you know. Aren’t you supposed to have more agents here by now?”
Carlie could feel the resentment welling up from her gut. “You mean besides the ten good men we lost today just trying to save you?”
“My father has you hound me for years, and for what—what is the point of all your training if we can’t rescue the other people out there?”
“It’s because of our ‘training’ that you’re able to stand before me and complain at all, Eliza. And the same reason that, come tomorrow at this time, you’ll be sipping a caramel latte in your father’s secure bunker. Until that time, I’ll continue to cling to you like a lizard to the shade.”
Eliza’s raised her eyebrows, looking at the professor, who was silent, and then back to Carlie.
“There are other students trapped on campus who can use our help, Carlie,” said Eliza, whose eyes continued to grow wider.
“I agree, but there’s only—” She paused, looking at Phillip, who was approaching from the other room. “Only one of me, and you and the professor are my primary concerns right now. When reinforcements arrive, we can round up any other students we find.”
Eliza’s adamant glare eased up. “I’m not trying to be a pain in the ass, really, I’m not. I know you and the other agents always saw me like that but I just feel like we should be doing more than crawling under a rock to hide.”
“Eliza, you didn’t witness the craze of attackers I killed in the science building and you probably didn’t see the battle unfold around the other agents on your protective detail. Hiding out is exactly what we need to be doing right now until the tactical advantage swings in our direction.”