Outbreak: A Cerebral Novel #1 (The Cerebral Series)

by Stuart Keane

  She just needed to locate one.

  Fighting the agony in her ruptured feet and the manic thumping in her chest, she paused to glance backwards. She saw no one as she studied the buildings before her.

  Not at first.

  David's head popped into view, two buildings back.

  He was gaining on her.

  How does he know?

  She stared down at her injured feet, the torn stockings, and traced the bloody trail of footprints that streaked back in a ragged line across the rooftops. The persistent throbbing made her groan and buckle.

  Of course.

  Melanie dropped to a stoop and clambered down a rusty ladder. It placed her on a lower rooftop, one that struck her as unfamiliar. The unknown geography of the location jarred in her head, losing her for a moment. Spinning on the spot, she gathered her bearings and moved on.

  "Melannnnnieeee?"

  David's voice sent a chill down her spine, made her shiver. She stopped and backed into the corner, hiding in the shadows.

  No.

  Keep moving.

  He knows where you are, she thought, eyeing her feet with disdain.

  He's toying with you.

  Melanie emerged from her brief hiding place and ambled across the rooftop, heading for the edge. She stared down, her stomach somersaulting, and gasped at the sheer drop. She estimated the height was seventeen feet, give or take, a distance that could do some serious damage. She scanned the lip of the roof, searching for a ladder.

  She found a rickety fire escape.

  With no other choice, she moved towards it.

  She clambered onto it, hissing between her teeth as the rusted rungs dug into her swollen feet. Her footing slipped due to the excess blood, but once stable, she started to descend.

  "Melanniiiiieee?"

  The voice was closer this time, more foreboding. It bounced off the rooftops around her, and pricked at her eardrums. Melanie descended faster, trying to remain quiet, eager to escape her pursuer.

  As she landed on the next rooftop, the ancient ladder squealed with the loss of her weight. Melanie clutched the side of her head, devastated at the noise. Then, she heard the scrabble of footsteps above. David's head peered over the top, his wild eyes searching.

  He found her.

  "There you are."

  Melanie didn’t have it in her. She sagged to her knees, exhausted, the pain becoming unbearable, heavy defeat finally overwhelming her. David clambered down the ladder with finesse and speed, completing the distance in half the time. He landed on the rooftop, inches from his prey.

  He chuckled and began to circle her. "You can’t run from me, doctor. Besides, you should have kept your shoes on." He bent down and dipped a finger in one of her bloody footprints. He licked the tip, savouring the blood. "My, my. It's better than I imagined. Sweet, refined."

  "If you're going to kill me, do it now. Make it fast," Melanie said, her nerves frayed. Her eyes located a narrow doorway on the wall behind David, and again she felt the rise of false hope. Another door, another escape plan. She didn’t have the energy, not anymore.

  David caressed his face, testing the swelling of his cheek. "Fast? You should be so lucky. I'm going to take my time with you, as advertised. You're different to the others, unique. I want to experience every moment with you, revel in your beauty, cherish every second we spend together. Besides," he said, licking his bottom lip. Blood was smeared across it. "You busted my mouth. You need to pay for that."

  "Over my dead body," Melanie hissed.

  "Well … I'm not averse to a little necrophilia. It's nice when they can’t fight back—after all, the resulting facial wounds can hinder the next chase—but I do like a challenge too. Pros and cons, I suppose. I feel you'll be better alive. You're a fighter, independent. You're strong, not weak. I like that in a victim. It's rare."

  Melanie shuffled backwards. Her eyes found the narrow door again.

  It moved.

  Only slightly, a vibration or a rattle. She saw grey dust flutter to the ground.

  Someone was in there.

  Trying to get out.

  Her eyes moved to David, who was removing his shirt. He was oblivious to the movement behind him. "Yes. I'm going to enjoy this," he continued. "I've never done this without the framework of society before. Rules can be such a killjoy. Oh, the plethora of possibilities! I might let you scream a little, since no one is coming for you. Nothing gets me throbbing as much as that."

  Melanie nodded, one eye on the door. She saw the handle turn and the door ease open, just a fraction. Turning her full attention to David, she smiled. "Well, if you must." She eased her legs open, spreading them. The torn hem of her dress covered her dignity, but it exposed her smooth thighs, the tights streaked with dirt and blood. She placed her hands by her side as she bent her legs at the knee. "I'm not going anywhere, and I can’t escape. Do what you must."

  David frowned. "What?"

  Melanie smiled. She nibbled her bottom lip. "This is what you want, right?"

  "No. You're a fighter. You're supposed to fight me, not submit."

  "I can’t fight you from over here."

  David cocked his head. "What are you up to?"

  Melanie shook her head. "I knew you were a fraud."

  "A fraud, huh?" David uttered.

  "Yes," Melanie replied.

  Dent his ego. Goad him.

  Should you be doing this to a serial killer, a serial rapist at that?

  Her gaze found the door. A hand eased around it, the skin blistered and blemished. One of the fingertips was missing, the white bone sticking out, shattered and sharp. It gained purchase and shoved the door open. A black void appeared, an abyss brimming with movement.

  Now or never.

  "You think I'm a fraud."

  "All talk and no play," she spat. "You don’t have it in you."

  David sneered. "You mouthy cunt." He stepped forward. "You just made this so much harder on yourself."

  Melanie poised. "Idle threats, huh?"

  David chuckled. "Silly woman."

  He lunged.

  But Melanie was ready. She pushed off the wall, fighting the numbing pain in her legs, ignoring her throbbing feet, their soles torn and tattered, a complete mess. As David propelled towards her, his momentum unhindered, she jumped and lifted her feet into the air.

  David ran straight into them, his groin slamming into the heels of her feet. The wind punched out of him and he staggered back, wheezing, his face contorted with an intense agony only a man can feel. Melanie veered backwards and landed on her rump with a thud, wincing.

  David recoiled, stumbling to his knees, his groin hot and warm, his testicles pulsing and blazing with unfathomable pain. Veins popped out of his neck and temples as he staggered sideways, gagging for breath.

  Which is when he saw the four creatures approaching him.

  Melanie was already shuffling towards the edge of the roof, forming an escape. The exit was blocked, which meant she only had one means of survival.

  Down.

  David spluttered and groaned, foamy spittle arcing from his lips. "You … you bitch!"

  "Like I said, David. You're all talk."

  "I'll … I'll fucking kill you."

  "Maybe, but I know one thing you won't be doing."

  "Fuck you," David hissed.

  "Yep, exactly." She pointed, her hand aimed at his crotch. "You fucked your last."

  David glanced down at his trousers. Dirt and bright blood smeared the groin, two abnormal footprints streaked across, from thigh to thigh, the result of physics and a swift collision. The smell of copper was pungent, bitingly so.

  One of the creatures lunged for David, missing him by a fraction. He stumbled back, fear now etched on his face. A second lunged and knocked him sideways, its fumbled grasp gaining nothing but thin air.

  The third landed.

  It tackled David off his feet, slamming him back onto the rooftop with a loud crash. Melanie felt the floor wobble
beneath her. She slid to the edge of the roof and waited, poised.

  I need closure.

  It’s the least I deserve.

  The creature pinned David to the ground, arms holding him down. David fought and punched the figure, obliterating its head. It slopped to the ground beside him. Another creature stumbled towards him and fell short.

  Its head landed in David's crotch.

  The terrified squeal that escaped his lips turned Melanie's blood cold. She shivered as the creature began to tear through his trousers and his genitals, the noise vibrant and real, visceral. She heard the violent tearing of flesh, the squelch of soft tissue and muscle. David flapped and wriggled beneath the creature, his body shutting down due to the pain. A pink testicle rolled across the rooftop, slopping droplets of blood as it came to a stop. A geyser of blood spurted into the air, indicating the fatal nick of an artery. Clothing seared and flapped as the creature delved deeper. David fell into silence as the remaining creatures fell on top of him.

  Melanie smiled.

  Which is when she noticed the creatures themselves.

  Stretched skin, muscles bloated beneath that reminded her of extreme steroid abuse. The cracked flesh was dark, blistered, and taut to breaking point. In several places, the muscles had broken through, but instead of the usual pink, they were a snowy white tinged with grey and streaks of red. The spine seemed elongated and mutated, widened almost, and dominant at the top of the neck, as if an implant was inserted beneath the brain. Melanie had seen some body modifications in her time, and this reminded her of that.

  A gagging revulsion spurred her to the edge of the building.

  Which is when the creatures turned their attention to her.

  With a panicked yelp, Melanie gazed into the dead stare of the monsters. The eyes were blank and void of emotion, but she saw … something. A primitive logic, a basic need. The gaze was deceased, but the brain behind was anything but. Something was turning the gears back there.

  Melanie almost vomited when one creature arched its back and its spine pulsed. The skin wobbled and moved as the vertebrae contorted beneath, like someone shifting beneath a thin duvet. She saw a small creature moving around beneath the flesh, pushing through muscle and bone. A faint tearing sounded on the air.

  What the actual fuck?

  And then it hit home.

  These aren’t zombies.

  They're…

  The creatures stood up and turned to her, in unison. As a team, as one. Bright crimson slathered their fronts, dripped and oozed from their appendages and orifices and torn clothing. Their gaze found Melanie.

  She felt her bowels loosen, felt her stomach gurgle.

  There's no way…

  One of them moved.

  Which spurred her into action.

  Melanie didn’t give it a second thought as she clambered onto the roof of the building. Breathing in, she shuffled over the edge and fell to the street below.

  *****

  "We should stick to the back roads."

  "The motorway is faster."

  "Yes, but we don't know if traffic came to a standstill."

  Silence filled the vehicle. Goodright nodded. "Who has a phone?"

  Morgan shook her head. Bruce too. Harrison slipped his phone from his pocket and handed it to his colleague. He chuckled. "Checking Google Maps?"

  "Google Traffic, to be precise. Makes things easier. I don’t like surprises. Preparation is everything. And I doubt the satellites are down. Zombies never flew to space."

  "Doesn’t matter if the outbreak affected the human users at Google."

  "Let's hope it didn’t spread that fast, eh?" Goodright clicked a few buttons and waited. "Right, it's loading—"

  The roof above their heads buckled and screeched as it dented downwards. Harrison lost control of the vehicle for a moment and steered into a wall, shunting the van. Morgan and Bruce both flinched as they collapsed from the rear benches. Goodright turned and looked up at the indentation. "Shit."

  Harrison put the van in neutral. Checking his perimeter, he drew his Glock, opened the door, and slipped to the street. "Wait here," he indicated.

  Goodright heard footsteps pound and scuff the concrete. She saw Harrison disappear in the wing mirror. She glanced into the back. "Everyone alright?"

  Bruce nodded. Morgan rubbed her face. "What was that?"

  "I don’t know. Harrison will find out."

  The van began to jostle. A few seconds later, the indentation screeched and groaned as something shifted above. They heard footsteps on the roof. Bruce drew his weapon, his hand trembling. Morgan's eyes widened. "Don’t fire that in here."

  Bruce groaned. "As if."

  The back door flew open. Harrison stood there, a huge grin on his face. "It seems we have a visitor." He ducked out of view and returned with an unconscious woman in his arms. After some assistance, he placed her on the floor of the van. He closed the door and returned to the driver's seat.

  The group in the van eyed the newcomer with suspicion. A sleek black dress covered her curvy body, but bruises and cuts blemished a majority of the bare flesh on display. She had two black eyes and a broken nose, both flanked by swollen cheeks and messy brown hair, and lacerations crisscrossed her feet. A pair of torn, laddered tights covered her legs, and dark blood leaked from multiple wounds on her soles.

  "What happened to her?" Morgan asked.

  Harrison climbed back into the van. "My guess? She fell from one of the buildings out there. We need to move. If she was being chased…"

  A loud splat sounded on the concrete outside. Harrison glanced in his mirror and saw a creature, its body obliterated into mush by the impact of the fall. He remembered Bruce's warning. They imitate.

  He put his foot down and drove.

  FIFTEEN

  Xander scanned the interior of the police station, his watchful gaze finding nothing but heavy isolation and emptiness. Despite this, he noticed a couple of Pepsi cans on one desk, along with some empty confectionary wrappers. He nudged at them with a probing finger, and glanced up to find his men working their way through the room, poking heads into doors and crevices.

  Alice returned to the room. "There's no one here, sir."

  Xander nodded. "Yes, but there was."

  She smiled. "I agree. You should come and take a look at this."

  Xander frowned and followed her through a set of double doors. His men averted their gazes and went about their business in silence. Alice stopped beside a large vault. She gripped the handle but it held firm. Xander looked at it and whistled. "My, my."

  "It's a weapons locker, I'm sure of it," Alice confirmed. "It was used recently, too. The dust on the handle has been disturbed. There's small streaks of grease on this desk, too."

  Xander grinned. "Can we open it?"

  "It depends. Do you have a drill strong enough to punch through?"

  "What did I tell you about daft questions?"

  Alice smiled, catching on. "Then yes, we can."

  "Good. But not now. We wait. It could come in handy later. No one else is getting through that door in a hurry, and I doubt those things could muster up the strength to breach it."

  Alice stepped forward. "So what do we do instead?"

  Xander didn’t answer as a loud scream filled the air. He turned and walked back into the bullpen. Across the room, he saw a door tucked into the corner with INTERROGATION embossed on the wall beside it. Two creatures were walking through it. Before them lay Ben, one of his men. A creature was on top of him, biting into his neck. Dark arterial spray arced into the air, spattering the wall and floor. An unlit cigarette was hanging from his blubbering lips, the white stained with blood. His head wobbled as the life ebbed from him. His glazed eyes confirmed that he was still alive, though, and suffering.

  Xander shot an incredulous glance at his other men, Mike and Levi, who looked on, dumbstruck by the events unfolding in front of them. Their rifles were inert by their side, their entire bodies frozen in fear. St
age fright, so to speak. Alice appeared behind him and groaned, but stood fast, unafraid. Xander flicked his head to the entrance. "Get to the van. Stay there with the other men. I won't be long."

  Alice obeyed and exited the building. Xander strode over to his men, slipped a Beretta from Levi's hip holster and fired at the creatures. The bullets tore into their rotten bodies, knocking them back. He didn’t go for headshots, as he wanted them alive. Xander looked down and shot Ben in the head, with no hesitation, freeing him from his suffering. He turned and smiled at Levi and Mike. "What are you doing?"

  Neither man spoke. Their eyes were wide, still paralysed by the horror. They glanced at their superior and made eye contact, but remained silent.

  The mistake was obvious.

  Xander sighed. "Fine."

  He shot Levi in the leg with his own weapon and turned the gun on Mike. Mike cowered away, his hands in the air. Xander didn’t care. He fired again, hitting the young man in the kneecap. Blood splattered the desks behind him as his thin body slumped to the ground. Crouching down, he retrieved the weapons from his fallen comrades, slipping them over his shoulders. Groans of agony filled the room. Xander stood up and walked to the exit, leaving his men to face their fate.

  "Don’t leave us, sir, ple … please!" Mike uttered.

  Levi didn’t second it; he was too busy whining, air hissing through his quivering lips, his hands holding his shattered mess of a leg.

  Xander smiled. "I need men, not boys. You let Ben die, and did nothing to stop it. It's only fair that you share his suffering. Don’t worry, I'm sure it'll be … slow."

  With that, Xander walked out of the building. The sound of shuffling creatures and stifled screams saw him go, the soundtrack to his dramatic exit. He walked over to the van and climbed into the passenger seat. Getting comfortable, he glanced into the rear of the vehicle. The remainder of his men still stared at the ground.