by James Somers
Upon closer inspection, Vladimir finds this guard’s gun is also missing. Evidently, he wasn’t the one who pulled the trigger for the kill shot on this zombie. He searches quickly around the infirmary room, but the woman and the boy are not present. One of them must have shot the creature, and they are now both armed.
Vladimir follows powdery footprints that must be the boy’s, since he was dressed only in a gown on camera five minutes ago. They lead him out the rear door of the infirmary and across the hall to a small locker room. The prints end inside. He must have dressed and put shoes on as well.
The assassin comes out again, checking the hall in both directions. One way appears to be a dead end. The other leads around to the left. He follows this route, leading him back toward the core of the complex.
Several turns lead him to a group of three infected individuals, all shot recently. Vladimir feels the excessive heat rising off of their bodies. Yet, they are dead. Each has a hole in their head, although one of them has a shoulder wound also.
Vladimir grins. These two have already done better in protecting themselves than the rest of the staff. Still, with the two he killed personally, these three plus the one in the lab adds up to six of the original eight. There are only two zombies still roaming the corridors of the complex, unless someone has managed to kill them by now.
The assassin moves down a longer corridor lined with windows that view the large cafeteria. He finds a group of wounded employees with a few bloody, beaten guards trying to make some sense of the situation and restore a little order. He moves quickly, leaving them.
If any of them spot him, it won’t matter. Coming after him will only get them killed. Besides, if they’re attempting to hunker down in the cafeteria and lock themselves in, the infected will only throw themselves through these glass windows and come for them. The cafeteria seems an appropriate place for such a buffet to occur.
From here, the corridor branches in several directions. Vladimir examines his options, but nothing seems particularly appealing. He decides to follow the route that will have him circle back toward the entrance. This is the only way out of the Tombs. He’ll probably find survivors there, but he may also find the boy with the woman from the infirmary.
Particular Peculiarities
Living to fight another day has a nice ring to it, as long as you actually live to fight that other day—Jonathan Parks
Just as Holly promised, a single elevator waits, giving access to another level down and the super secret area of the facility known as Sector Four. We make it without further incident, though we do see a few employees running down a hallway further along. Ducking inside, Holly hits the button and down we go.
When the elevator doors open again, we are in a different place. A lone corridor with white tiles and a single blue line on the floor runs from the elevator for about fifty yards. At the end, the hall bisects.
“You won’t need your gun down here,” Holly says, depressing the safety and pushing it into the back of her trousers underneath her lab coat.
I follow her advice, putting my Glock on safety. I don’t have pants, so I opt for simply carrying the weapon. We begin walking. Thirty yards down, large windows allow us to see inside a gymnasium. The space includes what appears to be an elaborate obstacle course. It looks fun but difficult.
A young man, probably close to my age, somersaults along a wooden balance beam. He leaps from the beam to catch hold of a set of Olympic style rings. He then performs several maneuvers and dismounts with a twisting flourish.
“Wow,” I mutter.
“That’s Garth Manes,” Holly informs me. “Try not to be offended by him.”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s a bit egocentric,” she explains. “He’s been here since he was ten years old. He’s eighteen now. The first one in the program and the oldest. He acts like he owns the place, or at least Sector Four.”
“Sounds a lot like Tom Kennedy,” I reply.
“That explains a lot,” she says.
“Yeah.”
“Try not to get into any fights,” Holly says with a grin.
“Exactly how many program participants are there, anyway?”
“There are exactly two,” she says to my surprise. “You would have been number three.”
“Oh, I guess I was expecting—”
“More? No. The kind of gift you each have is rare. They’ve been studying for years down here and we still don’t fully comprehend the manifestations.”
“They aren’t carriers for this virus like I am?” I ask.
“No,” she says. “We’ve never seen anything that’s really like it, either. It might seem at first to be something like rabies. But that disease attacks the brain and almost always kills the patient within a few days of becoming symptomatic.”
“But they look terrible, almost like they’re dead, or dying,” I reply.
As we walk down the hall, Garth makes his way toward the gymnasium door. He wears very short dark hair in a spiked style. He has the lithe, muscular physique of a gymnast.
“Although they may appear ghastly, they are not dying,” Holly explains. “If anything, they’re growing stronger and faster. Their mental capacity seems diminished also, but it’s more like a switch thrown. The brain isn’t under attack so much as renovation.”
“I see.”
“Do you?” she asks. “I still don’t understand it, and I have a doctorate. This is like drawing a person’s face while looking at them through darkly tinted windows. It’s very frustrating.”
We reach the gymnasium entrance. Garth stands just inside at a table with a beverage dispenser. He drinks a cup of orange juice while we watch.
When Garth finishes, he tosses the cup over his shoulder without looking at the trashcan. It drops in perfectly. He then regards me with a sardonic grin.
“Who’s the newbie, sweetheart?” Garth asks Holly.
I hold out my hand before she can answer. “Jonathan Parks,” I say. “Good to meet you, Garth.”
His eyes don’t look down at the weapon in my other hand, but I can tell he knows it’s there. He doesn’t shake my hand, instead leaving it hanging there. I lower it, grinning at him. I have no intention of Kowtowing to this person.
That sort of reaction will only get me more of the same. I can already tell what kind of person Garth is. I have a chance to earn his grudging respect, but he may, or may not ever like me. Still, if I gain his respect, that’s a great deal.
Garth turns to Holly. “What’s this all about, love?” he says. “Since when do program participants come in here packing heat?”
“There’s been an outbreak in the Tombs,” she says. “Jonathan insisted we get down here and evacuate you and Cassie.”
“Did he now?”
I return the glare Garth gives me, but I add a slight nod.
“And why would you do that?” he asks.
“I hear we have something in common,” I say, “but there’s no time to banter this around.”
“Right,” Holly interjects. “A viral outbreak has caused eight persons in custody within the Biohazard Containment block to become ravening monsters. They’ve become animalistic and will attack on sight. Many people in the lab are likely dead, or infected already.”
“Can they get down here?” Garth asks, suddenly turning serious.
“No,” Holly replies, “but it won’t matter. SIS will cleanse the entire facility with a containment breach of this magnitude. They can’t afford for something like this to get out among the general population.”
Garth grows more anxious now. “Well, when does that happen? How long do we have?”
“Protocol dictates the head of SIS be notified of any incident. Depending on our response, or lack of response, they decide how to proceed. However, given the terrible nature of this contagion, they won’t risk the city for the few of us who are left down here.”
“Especially not when anyone coming out would be seen as a risk to the city,�
�� I offer. “We’re probably lucky they haven’t destroyed the place already.”
“They might try to reach us, in which case, the control center would be the place to go,” Holly explains.
“But they can see everything already, can’t they?” Garth asks.
Holly nods. “But it’s our only chance. Once they lockdown the facility, no one will be able to get out of here. None of the pass codes or badges will even work then.”
“That will mean going back through the infected, though,” I interject.
“What else can we do?” Holly asks. “We’ve got to get Cassie and go.”
Garth turns, walking at speed down the hall. At the other end of the gymnasium there is a smaller alcove. I can already smell the chlorine before we walk inside. A pool about twice as big as one you might find at a hotel stretches out before us.
A young girl sits on a bench dressed in a full length black and pink wetsuit and sneakers. She is testing what appears to be a scuba tank. Her curly, blonde hair hangs across her brow and down over her shoulders.
Garth calls Cassie’s name.
When she looks up at us, recognition shows in her expression as her eyes wander from Garth to Holly. However, when she looks at me, puzzlement dawns. I have no idea what face I must be making at this point, but I feel stricken when I lay my eyes on her.
She’s young and, in my estimation, absolutely beautiful. I recognize I’ve encountered beautiful people before, many times in fact. However, I’ve never seen in them what I see in Cassie. It’s as though I’m viewing her soul, and I can’t tell anymore if I’m breathing.
“There’s danger up top in the Tombs,” Garth tells her as she stands to greet us. “A viral outbreak of some kind turning people into monsters or something. We have to get out of here fast.”
Cassie starts to laugh, as though she’s getting pranked. However, when she sees the serious expressions all around and remembers the kinds of research done up above, she relents. “Are you all serious?” her eyes find the gun in my hand. “Who is this?” she asks Holly cautiously.
“This is Jonathan Parks,” Holly says. “Jonathan, this is Cassie Monroe.”
I start to smile and offer her my hand, but Garth breaks in. “He’s a newbie for the program,” he shouts, growing agitated. “We’re all about to die and you want to play meet and greet? Time to go, lover boy.”
I blush.
“But won’t we have to go through the Tombs to get to the outside?” Cassie asks.
“It’s the best we can do,” Holly says, removing the gun from her trousers. “Is there anyone else down here right now?”
“Not this time of day,” Garth replies. “They all go up for lunch and to smoke.”
“Then it’s too late for them,” I say.
“You really are serious?” Cassie asks me.
I nod, holding up my Glock. “We wouldn’t have these, if we weren’t. Some people have already been killed. These things are like super fast zombies, or something. We’ll have to be careful.”
Garth turns, heading for the elevator corridor. He pauses along the way, stepping into the gym for a moment where a few lockers are mounted to the wall. He opens one and pulls out a katana sword.
“I’m not going up there unarmed,” he says.
Nobody questions him as he returns to the corridor and walks with our group toward the elevator at the end of the hall. I can’t help but wonder if he is actually able to use that thing. Having been involved with martial arts myself, I’m more than a little envious. However, the Israeli fighting style I learned didn’t focus upon melee weapons like swords. It was more practical, how to disarm a person wielding a knife, or pipe, even a gun and end the fight as quickly as possible.
I decide not to ask him. He would probably only reply with a rude comment anyway, and I don’t want to get into it with him, certainly not with Cassie around. I’m not sure why that matters to me, but it does.
We reach the end of the hall, waiting for the elevator. I glance at Garth, impatient with his katana in hand. I’m reminded of an Indiana Jones flick. Gun beats sword every time.
My gaze wanders toward Cassie. Her eyes come up and catch me looking at her. Immediately, I look back toward the elevator.
The doors open and I’m itching near the trigger of my gun, half expecting one of the infected to leap out at us. The elevator is empty. I notice Holly relax also. She must have been thinking the same thing.
We all step inside and the doors close behind us.
“We’ll have to be extremely careful,” Holly says. “I can lead us toward the control center. If we can get them to listen up in SIS, then maybe they’ll postpone the cleansing.”
Garth straps his katana scabbard across his back, leaving the sword inside for now. The elevator slows as we ascend to the level of the Tombs laboratory. Our ride only lasts about fifteen seconds. Just before the doors open, I experience a moment of truth kind of feeling. My gun is held ready with the safety off. Still, I keep my trigger finger outside the guard as Holly instructed me. The doors part in front of us.
Nightmares and Dreamscapes
13 Days Earlier
A shot rings out on the Westbourne platform followed by a host of others. Hu Takashi feels Sharon’s weight thrown from him. Several bullets rip through her body. Hu still screams as she rolls away.
Almost instantly, Sharon scrabbles like an animal on the concrete, looking up to the person who interfered with her attack. Madness and bloodlust shine from her eyes like flares. She leaps toward an Armed Response officer who enters the platform with his team. A shot to the head quiets her mania instantly. Her body falls across Hu.
He screams again, and it seems to him he has done nothing but this for an eternity. The officer comes to his side the next second, putting his hand out to pull Hu from the ground. Sharon’s body sloughs off him like an old sack of garbage, her eyes open but lifeless now.
Hu sees nothing of the woman she was, the nurse working the same late hours at St. Mary’s he does. She was briefly a monster, a terrible thing that tormented him. He is glad she is dead. He is free of her.
The officer speaks to him as his team descends upon the platform with guns. It is hard for Hu to hear the words. Shots are fired at devils in human form that leap at them like rabid animals. Hu shouts his thanks, as the officer who saved his life leads him away from the scene.
The policemen shoots back behind them, as another infected individual comes across the platform. Hu hurries up the steps and the officer blasts away at the crazed man on their heels. The man falls and writhes upon the ground. Hu pulls on the officer’s arm, wanting him to come also.
The policeman indicates to the members of his team that he’s taking a survivor up and then follows. Hu hears rifles going off on the platform below. He feels lucky to be alive.
Sharon was all over him. He tried to fight her off, turning over and attempting to get back to his feet to run away. She was relentless, clawing and beating upon him. He’s amazed she did not tear his throat out with the ferocity of her attack. Still, he can already feel cuts and bruises crying out all over his body. It will take some time to get over all of this.
“You’re going to need more guns,” Hu says to the officer as they arrive up top in the station proper.
The officer nods to him. “Don’t worry, sir,” he says. “We’ve brought a dozen heavily armed officers. What happened down there?”
“You don’t know?” Hu asks. “Why did an Armed Response Team come then?”
“We were on alert because of an attack reported with the stranded train car a few hours ago,” the officer says. “We are ready to go into the tunnel, if necessary.”
Hu nods. “Very necessary,” he says.
“Were those the people who attacked the train car?”
“Yes, they followed us out, I suppose,” Hu explains.
“Muslim terrorists maybe?” the officer asks. “Could you tell if any of them spoke with a strange accent, maybe Arabic?”
Hu blinks in confusion as they come upon a group of officers and paramedics coming through the station with equipment. The officer waves them past, warning these his team is mopping up down on the platform. People will need medical attention.
“Terrorists?” Hu asks. “No, they were infected. They’ve gone mad.”
“Infected with what?” the officer asks. “Anthrax?”
“No, I don’t know what it was,” Hu said. “I don’t think it was anything like that. Something that drove them insane though. That’s why they attacked. You’ve got to kill them all.”
The officer nods. “Don’t worry, sir,” he says, “we’ll take care of this.”
He hands Hu off to a female paramedic who throws a blanket around his shoulders and leads him back through the station toward an ambulance waiting in front of the Westbourne Station entrance. Hu tries to explain the situation to the paramedic, but she only wants to have him calm down. He sits inside the back of the ambulance where an oxygen mask is strapped over his nose and mouth. She instructs Hu to be calm and breathe deeply.
The paramedic asks him about his wounds, if anything is broken.
“No, nothing broken. Just cuts and bruises, I think.”
“Are you a nurse?” the paramedic asks.
Hu realizes the woman has noted his hospital scrubs. “No, I’m a medical student. I also work at St. Mary’s.”
The paramedic smiles at him. “Well, I guess you would know then if there was anything serious, right?”
Hu nods.
“Stay here, and I’ll check on you in a few minutes,” she says, then goes back into the station.
Hu tries to calm down. He keeps waiting apprehensively for infected individuals to come running through the station out into the lot where he sits breathing through the oxygen mask. However, after about ten minutes, the policeman who saved him from the monstrous version of Sharon Ashburn walks through the entrance door and finds him at the ambulance.