“Make sure to stay on these strong beams.” Tony whispered to Nikki. “Be very, very quiet.”
She swallowed hard and nodded. The attic area was stuffy and filled with rising heat from the floor below. She stayed behind Tony and observed his careful movements. She watched him check the beams before putting his full weight on them. They moved slowly and quietly for a few minutes. Nikki tried to visualize what area they might be above. Looking back, she saw that the pharmacy area was now some distance away. A cool breeze blew through the area sending up particles of attic dust that clung to the sweat on her face. She shuddered and sneezed; echoing like thunder in the empty attic. Tony froze without looking back, she froze as well. A bead of sweat trickled down the inside of her left arm; she ignored it as it ran tickling her torturously. They remained silent, and she noticed that the creatures had stopped their pounding. There was a shift in the growls up ahead; a lessening in their assault. Tony looked back to Nikki and gave her an encouraging nod and resumed his course. Nikki clearly heard the approach of shuffling ghouls underneath the ceiling tiles. Her arms, supporting her weight, began to shake. She had blown it and alerted the dead to their presence. Her eyes, already stinging from the dust, began to water. The shuffling came closer in the hallway beneath her. She looked to Tony who looked back to her as if he could almost sense her gaze. He motioned with his head for her to follow. She moved as fast as she could to the safety of a wall. Upon reaching the heavy load-bearing beam, she calmed a bit knowing that the room underneath should be empty and free of threats.
Tony unsheathed the survival knife on his harness and stealthily lifted a tile while peering into the room below. She saw an expression of contentment on his face and approached. He sheathed his knife, dangled his feet into the room and sat on the wall waiting for her. When she was close, he punched his hand downward and knocked a tile out for her legs. She sat on the wall next to him like two people dipping their feet in a pool. The area was dimly lit by their flashlights. Some light entered from semi-transparent ceiling tiles in the distant atrium area. Tony put his arm around her back and held her shoulder.
“It’s okay, we’re safe up here.” He whispered.
“I blew it.” She wiped at her nose.
“You might’ve done us a favor. If they split up, they’re less concentrated.” He shined his flashlight around the area, “I’d rather face five on this side of the building, and five more on that side, then ten all at once.”
Nikki saw the logic of his words. She leaned into Tony also knowing that he was just trying to make her feel better. He squeezed her shoulder and kissed the top of her head. She smiled and steadied herself. He pointed with the flashlight’s beam.
“Okay, we know there are some over there, which must be the door to the nursery.”
“They have those big windows so that people can see the babies.” She said.
“Yeah, I’m guessing they’re reinforced or they would have gotten in by now.” He paused for a moment and exhaled, “You know, the kind with wires built into the glass. Must be like looking in the meat isle for those things.”
Nikki shuddered at the thought. Tony twisted and shined his light towards the atrium.
“Over there is where we came in. We’re safer up here so we’ll head that way and see if we can steer clear of the stinkers.” He shined his light on her for a moment. She blinked at the sudden spots in her vision.
“Cut it out.” She said shining her flashlight in his direction. She could see that he was mulling over an idea. She recognized his “thinking face” though he appeared more tortured than usual.
“I’ll go down but I want you to stay up here.” He said and immediately raised his hand to ward off the shaking of her head. “I may need to pass the kid up to you. I can’t climb back up, if I gotta hold a baby.” Nikki stopped. Once again his argument was logical while also having the effect of keeping her up here and out of immediate danger.
“Do you just make this stuff up as you go along?” she asked. He seemed to stare off into space.
“Sort of, sometimes, I don’t know.” He gave an exhausted laugh, “It’s funny; I really don’t like kids.” He touched her hand, “Be right back.” Tony leaned over the wall beside him and popped up the closest tile. Looking in he saw the nursery in disarray and heard the muffled cries of a child.
*****
The Blackhawk touched down in the clearing in front of the mining shack just long enough to drop off its passengers. Lewis shadowed Alexandra as she hopped out of the chopper with his hands on her shoulders to help weigh her down. The overwhelming force of the rotor made directly exiting a running Blackhawk difficult for even experienced soldiers in full packs. Alexandra felt the tremendous blast of air as the heavy machine threw itself skyward. She didn’t try to stand until signaled by the medic. She just hunkered down, almost pushed into the earth until the violent storm of dirt and dried grass settled. She watched the giant black wasp hover above and noticed the watchful eye of one of the soldiers keeping them covered with his rifle from the open side door. Turning her attention back to the old man, she rushed to catch up with Richardson.
Alexandra quickly took her place at his right only to be suddenly stopped by Denkinger. He held his arm stiffly out and blocked her with a black-gloved hand.
“What the hell?” she said.
“You don’t need to see this.” He commanded. Richardson pushed his arm down though it did not move very far at first.
“That won’t be necessary.” Richardson said. The tall soldier relaxed his arm but his dark eyes blazed.
“What have you determined?” Richardson said, causing Denkinger to immediately focus his attention on his employer.
“A firefight sir; one-sided, but one hell of a confrontation.” Denkinger said. “We found shotgun shells, four-ten gauge, .380 automatic shells, and 12 gauge. Then they went hand to hand.”
Richardson paced the perimeter of the shack like a father examining his child’s first open house at grade-school. He examined the heavily damaged and torn out walls in the back of the shack. Denkinger’s men kept a vigilant watch with their guns at the ready around the area. Alexandra’s face went slack with shock when she saw the pile of decaying bodies at the rear of the building. Insects swarmed over the slimy pile of distorted figures. A young woman with a mouthful of bent and twisted braces caught her attention. The girl’s dead eyes stared off into infinity as her head stretched the length of her limp neck to an inhuman distance. Alexandra turned quickly away and moved to the front of the shack.
“My boy did all this?” Richardson asked.
“I can’t reconstruct the details, but… and I need you to steady yourself sir… I think your son is dead.”
“What?” Richardson asked dryly.
In the front of the shack, the medic and another soldier stood over the remains of a single body. Alexandra saw the medic holding his handheld display with a picture of Lance Richardson. She recognized the image because it was one of the ones she had sent to Denkinger in his briefing. Is that Lance’s body?
Her train of thought was lost as Richardson and Denkinger pushed past her while rounding the corner of the shack. Richardson stood over the remains, whose blood had softened the earth so much earlier that now the remains were embedded in sort of dried blood-mud.
Alexandra’s animosity for Richardson almost left her for a moment when she saw the tall man slump, then fall to his knees and reach out to the remains. Denkinger and another soldier quickly restrained him.
“You’re gonna contaminate yourself sir.” Denkinger grunted as he held the old man back. Sad noises that Alexandra doubted he had ever uttered before so earnestly, sobbed from Gavin Edward Richardson. And for a tiny moment, she felt sorry for the old man.
It took Richardson the better part of a half-hour to regain his composure and when he did, Alexandra lost her pity for his loss. It was almost inhuman how quickly he turned from anguish to concentration. His face was worn but determined when he ord
ered Denkinger to give his best estimation of what happened. The soldier led them inside the shack and began.
“They were surrounded. The infected breached the walls as you can see, and the occupants repelled them. Some were shot multiple times before a headshot suggesting inexperience from the shooters. The holder of the .380 for example missed a few times. The four-ten did better.”
Richardson nodded his head as he took in the details. Alexandra found it chilling to look at the subtle anger in his face. Nobody should be this together this fast, she thought. Denkinger continued.
“At some point, Lance went down and was taken through the hole in this wall, where…” Denkinger didn’t finish his sentence, he didn’t have to. Lance’s remains were in such a state that anyone could see that he was practically devoured by a large number of infected. His arms and legs were stripped to the bone, his abdomen was eviscerated, and even his lungs and liver were just shredded vestigial tissue leaving only his bright blond hair on his scalp that aided in his identification. Denkinger paused, and then picked up one of the spent .380 shells.
“Lewis found a copper jacked .380 slug flattened against his spine. Sir, your son was shot before he was dragged outside.”
Richardson’s face was granite. Denkinger continued.
“There are tire tracks to the road, heading back towards town. I’d say a four-wheel drive with thirty-two to thirty-six inch tires.”
“Call the chopper, and bring my son with us.” He said to Denkinger. Alexandra saw the old man’s steel blue eyes flash in her direction as if they had a question for her. She looked away.
“Let’s have a look at the lake while we are here.” Richardson said, “If anyone there knows anything about my boy’s death; I want to speak with them.”
Thirty-Five
Stupid assed Sanchez, Mason thought as he entered the atrium, we should be on the freeway right now. He gripped the over-under tightly. Mason had given up on the idea of stealth. There were dead things in the hospital and Mason was pissed off; time for the two to meet. Flanked by the rest of his team, he checked his mental inventory. He had the shotgun and twenty-three extra shells easily accessible. The only drawback to the shotgun was it was slow to reload but he also had the Lugar with eight rounds in the magazine, and of course, his sword across his back. Something in this hospital is gonna get hurt, but it wasn’t going to be him.
Mason stopped at the corner to the concourse with his back to the wall.
“Gabe, stay here and cover our rear. Keep an eye out in the waiting area and as we go down the hall.” Gabe reluctantly acknowledged the assignment with a nod. “Remember,” Mason added, “shoot right for the head.”
Mason motioned to Billy to follow and they began to move down the wide hallway. Up ahead, echoed a raspy array of utterances; gasps and growls both wet and dry at the same time, reverberating, increasing, and approaching.
“Shit!’ Gabe said and turned while lifting his rifle. Billy rushed close to a wall and took aim as well. Mason dropped to a knee in the center of the passage and raised his palm.
“Wait until…” A shadowed mass passed into the dim light at the end of the hall, causing both Gabe and Billy to open fire with their twenty-twos, cutting Mason’s words off. The small caliber bullets cracked loudly in the hallway. The men fired fast out of shock. Mason saw Billy’s bullets pepper into the chest of a dead nurse then across into the shoulder of a Janitor corpse, then back again to the nurse; finally walking their way up to just above the bridge of her nose. She flopped to the floor face first with the sound of smacking meat. Gabe faired a little better, actually taking out two dead men dressed in bloody lab coats by raking them across the eyes, but he used ten rounds for the task, the other rounds flew off into the distance. Five more dead bodies groaned and approached with mouths agape.
“Reload!” Mason barked. He took two steps backward and aimed the over-under at a small approaching shape. As it came into the light, Mason saw that the shape was a very old man in a pristine hospital gown. The man was missing most of his left cheek and neck area but not a drop of blood was on his gown. The thing slipped on the fallen nurse and slumped against the wall. It seemed almost angered by the impediment to its progress and reached up towards Mason with arms bruised with pooled blood. Mason squeezed the Citori’s trigger. The hallway, as well as the old corpse’s head, erupted with the blast. Four more bodies came at Mason, excited by the sounds of conflict and spurred on by their base need to feed.
*****
The distant gunfire startled Tony almost off the support beam and into the nursery.
“What the hell?” He looked to Nikki, “Those are twenty-twos. Stay here.” He said and pushed his hand through the Styrofoam ceiling tile, splitting it so that it fell out. He flashed his light around the room and had a look. The room reeked with a foul odor causing Tony to quickly withdraw. He had the worry that a ghoul might be within waiting to take a bite out of his arm. The smell was different from the chemical rot of the dead or fermented meat of the uninfected that he had the misfortune of experiencing over the past few days. No this was something else. Tony grimaced as he placed his face close to the hole in the ceiling and took a couple quick sniffs.
He realized with both relief and revulsion that the smell was human waste; the industrial-strength waft of poop. It was disgusting, but probably to be expected in a nursery. A couple of days without dumping the garbage, and the poop really adds up. Examining the room again with his flashlight he found no one within but evidence that someone had been there. Every item possible, tables, chairs, boxes and shelves had been haphazardly piled up against the door and windows. Another door, free from any makeshift barricades, stood on the far wall next to a sink.
“Hello? Anyone in there?” he said. A shotgun blast from the hallway reverberated in the attic. A woman’s voice yelped a small scream at the distant sound of Mason’s weapon which was followed by a baby’s cry. That would be Mason, Tony thought wondering just what kind of trouble they were in as he lowered himself down into the nursery.
*****
Mason was out of patience for stealth and had none left for discipline. He fired the over-under again, punching a fist-sized hole through the forehead of a dead EMT, throwing its body backward knocking over another ghoul. Mason flicked open the breach and saw the spent shells ejected by the weapon’s spring loaded mechanism. He rapidly reloaded and snapped the over-under shut while taking another step back for good measure. Two standing creatures approached while a third worked his way back to his feet.
“Remind me to sock Sanchez in his fat face for this.” Mason said and raised the shotgun.
*****
The first thought Tony had upon landing in the nursery was how the hell he could get back up into the attic. He dashed to the sink next to the door and tested the counter surrounding it. It appeared strong enough to hold his weight and tall enough for his needs. With his escape relatively planned, he turned his attention to the closet door. He knocked softly,
“Hello? My name’s Tony, I’m here to help.”
The cries of the infant within grew louder but no adult answered. Tony checked the door handle and found it unlocked. He turned it slowly and pushed. From inside, a woman’s voice cried out and kicked at the door slamming it closed. The infant cried even louder. The noise excited the ghouls outside the nursery. Their pounding switched from the door over towards the windows. Tony shined his flashlight and saw six or seven dead shapes, clawing at the thick green glass; glass that was beginning to show cracks in various places.
“I’m here to help, please open the door.” He heard the frantic scraping sound of the woman’s feet pushing against the door. His heart raced when he heard glass cracking from the windows. Tony turned from the door and saw that the reinforced windows were shedding small bits of fragmented glass onto the tiled hospital floor. A large man in a flannel shirt with a bald head was throwing his entire torso at the glass. Black spittle flew from the hungry corpse’s mouth and clung
to the glass. The dead man shook his head as it raged and then drove itself into the glass, mouth first. A large crack spread from the top of the window frame like a fault-line, reaching towards the bottom. The glass began to bulge and push into the room.
“Ma’am, I need you to cover the baby’s ears. I have to shoot a bad guy and I don’t want the noise to hurt the kid!” Tony yelled. There was no sense in being quiet anymore, not with an undead percussion group in the hallway and Mason firing at Lord knows who elsewhere. Tony grimaced at the wall of glass before him; behind each pane was a hungry corpse slapping their infected death-grease on the cracking surface. He rolled his ear plugs tightly and inserted them; the sponge-like plugs expanded in his ear-canals. He drew the Colt and flicked off the safety. The large flannel-clad ghoul charged once again; pushing the entire four-by-four foot pane of cracked glass out of its frame. Tony’s thumb felt like jelly when he pulled back the hammer.
“Firing!” he warned and pulled the trigger. The forty-five caliber round rocketed from the barrel striking the creature in the center of its jaw, splitting the mandible in half and throwing both sides of separated jawbone off the joint, like a classic car with suicide doors. The bullet continued easily through the meat of the tongue, and shattered the vertebrae at the base of the skull, turning it to bloody bone-paste. With the spinal cord severed, Ramface McFlannel, slumped motionless on the windowsill.
Tony took a quick breath and had to regain his balance. The Colt was at least twice as powerful as his .380. He was unprepared for that kind of kick. Two more ghoulish specters moved to each side of the open window. Tony braced his gun hand on his other, while aiming both pistol and flashlight. He leaned forward just a bit and fired at the figure on the right. He over compensated, subconsciously anxious for the pistol’s kick, missing his shot. The bullet grazed the metal frame, went wild, and shattered a spider web of cracks across the adjacent window.
Rise & Walk (Book 2): Pathogen Page 23