RAGE (Descendants Saga (Crisis Sequence One))

by James Somers

  “How are you feeling then, sir?” the officer asks.

  “Much better,” Hu says, removing the oxygen mask. “What happened in there? Did you kill all of them?”

  “I’m afraid they didn’t give us much choice,” the officer said. “When they wouldn’t stop attacking our officers, we had no choice but to put them down. I’d say you’re lucky we came upon you when we did.”

  Hu nods. Images of the attack on the train and of Sharon chasing him, both in the tunnel and leaping upon him at the platform, are fresh and terrifying. He shivers just thinking about it, wondering if he’ll ever be able to sleep again.

  “At least they’re all dead,” Hu whispers to himself, trying to push out the scenes and reassure himself the danger has passed.

  “If you feel up to it, sir, we’ll need you to come down to the station and submit to some questioning about what happened,” the officer explains. “You may be the only witness who survived. That is, if you don’t need to go to the hospital at this time.”

  “I’m fine, I think,” Hu says. “Just bumps and bruises. I’ll get checked out better later on.”

  “Very good, sir,” the officer says. “My name is Officer Chambers, by the way.”

  “Hu Takashi,” Hu replies.

  “Very good, Mr. Takashi, if you’ll just come with me, I’ll give you a ride down to our precinct.”

  Officer Chambers leads the way to one of the patrol cars waiting with blue lights flashing. The entire entrance to Westbourne Station is awash in strobing blue and red lights from the police and emergency vehicles. The white lights of news cameras shine in several places, as reporters speak to audiences on their handheld microphones.

  Hu briefly wonders if he’ll be called upon to do any interviews in the days to come. Surely, one of the local news channels will seek his name as a survivor of the Tube attack. All this seems a huge price to pay for five minutes of fame. Still, the world will want to know what happened here.

  Officer Chambers opens the rear door, and Hu slips inside with his blanket still wrapped around him. He doesn’t think to ask if he should leave it, but it’s only a blanket anyway. The door closes behind him. The officer speaks with two others before joining him. At least, he’s left the car running. The heat inside feels very nice in the chill night air.

  Hu lays his head onto the seat back and closes his eyes. His head is practically spinning with an onrushing headache. The stress of this night catches up to him fast. His body aches. He’s not used to all of the running and physical stuff he’s been put through tonight.

  His body shakes with what feels like rushes of adrenaline, yet he’s so tired. Hu feels like he could sleep for a year. Right now, he would like nothing better than to crawl into his warm bed at his flat and crash.

  The driver’s door to the patrol car opens, letting the cacophony of the scene outside into the vehicle. Officer Chambers gets into the car and closes the door. He and Hu are separated by a protective Plexiglass barrier.

  “We’re on our way,” Officer Chambers says, putting the patrol car into drive. “All right back there, Mr. Takashi?”

  “Fine, thanks,” Hu replies without opening his eyes.

  Multicolored lights wash over him, flashing his vision even through his lids. The engine whines and the car moves beneath him. He feels the inertial forces on his weary body as the officer backs the car, and then takes off for the police precinct. Hu falls asleep wrapped comfortably in his warm blanket.

  Hu stands on a Tube platform in a fresh pair of scrub clothes. He’s back at Paddington. The train that brought him across London departs behind him. Around him, the bustle of others going to and from various destinations is like white noise, going unnoticed. He is one among thousands in the famous station.

  He walks up to the concourse from the lower platform. The faces of people are indistinct, but Hu is not concerned. He doesn’t take time to converse with anyone in particular. He is a part of the human ocean, a little fish in a big pond swimming on his way to his place among so many others doing the same.

  Paddington Bear waves to him. He is wearing a floppy hat and little coat, holding to the hand of a child who is a little taller than he is. Hu waves back with a smile on his face. Paddington goes with the child who doesn’t notice who the bear is waving to.

  Hu watches the sun shining through the frosted panes overhead. It will be a warm day. He can’t remember what month it is, but it doesn’t seem to matter. He knows where he’s going, but not the name of the place.

  Sharon Ashburn waves to him up ahead. She’s dressed in scrub clothes of her own, rather than those provided by the hospital. A lot of the female nurses do this. Sharon wears a print that has ice cream cones on it. The top has a background of pink with cream colored cones and scoops of vanilla and chocolate and strawberry. The bottoms are almost hot pink.

  Hu waves back to her. She likes him. She’s been waiting for him. He’s not sure she is Mrs. Right, but she’s at least Mrs. Right Now. There’s no hurry, after all. He’s an eligible bachelor and a successful orthopedic surgeon.

  He walks toward her. The crowd passes between them and he makes his way, having to dodge around people who step into his path. It’s crowded at Paddington today. It’s crowded here everyday.

  After what seems like a very long walk, Hu finally reaches Sharon. She smiles at him in her pink scrubs. She has a nice figure. He thinks scrubs flatter her appearance, even though they don’t flatter everyone.

  Sharon steps close to him, throwing her arms around his neck to pull him to her. They stand nose to nose as he places his hands on her hips. “Were you looking for me?” he asks.

  Sharon smiles with perfectly straight, white teeth. “You know I was,” she says playfully.

  She kisses him then. He enjoys this. Sharon is a good kisser. Her hands caress the nape of his neck as the kiss grows passionate. Then the kiss turns rough almost painful.

  Sharon becomes very forceful, and Hu wants to pull away. She bites his lip hard enough to really hurt. His eyes fly open as he pushes her away.

  Sharon smiles playfully with blood on her lips. A single rivulet of red runs from the corner of her pouting mouth to her chin. Hu isn’t sure what to say. His fingertips come away from his lip with fresh blood on them. Why would she do that?

  Hu looks around. The noise of the station has quieted. A pin drop can be heard. Every person has paused in place. They all look at him.

  He should feel embarrassed by all this attention. Were they watching him and Sharon a moment ago? They look at him disdainfully. Sneers crease their mouths and guttural noises rumble in their throats, like growling dogs warning of imminent attack.

  The crowd of people are completely focused upon him now. They take steps in his direction. All of them are on one side of the station and he is set apart. Sharon stands with them at a distance. The look in her eyes becomes hungry, ravenous.

  Sharon growls audibly, and fear creeps along Hu’s spine in response. Her hair is ragged now, hanging like wet threads of yarn from her head to her shoulders. When her eyes come open, they are extremely bloodshot, the pupils completely dilated.

  Her crimson lips part and Hu sees her teeth are now jagged and set at odd angles in her mouth. The teeth are stained red with his blood. Sharon hisses at him, and the other station patrons do likewise.

  Standing in front of them, like a general leading a charge on a battlefield, Sharon breaks into a run. Her army surges forward with her. They run after him. Hu turns to flee.

  The train tunnel stretches before him. There is light at the end and people who appear to wave him on. Hu cannot hear their voices, and they do not come to help him, but they encourage him not to give up.

  He runs with all the speed he can muster, but his legs are very heavy. Hu feels as though his feet are slogging through mud. They are hard to move, and he seems to be making little progress toward the light.

  Behind him, Sharon and her army of station patrons seem to be gaining. Their growls grow
louder as they draw near to him. They are like hounds dogging his heels. At any moment, they will have him.

  Hu cries out for help, but his voice is very muffled. There is no way anyone can hear such a plea, and no one seems interested in helping him. The people in the light have gone, and the light is fading.

  He wants to hide, but there is nothing but the rough concrete walls of the tunnel. Dim colored lights mark the tunnels trajectory which seems to go on into the distance forever. The growls and screeching cries behind him draw ever nearer. Hu cannot bear the thought of looking back at his pursuers.

  Fingers reach out for him, but he stays just ahead of them. Hu feels them brushing his back, ragged fingernails raking the cloth of his scrub top over and over but never quite catching hold. He must run faster. He has to get away.

  A body hits him from behind, driving him down to the gravel. It’s Sharon. His eyes are fastened shut, but he knows it is her. Fingernails claw at him and fists pound at his back and head furiously. Hu doesn’t give in. He’s trying to get up, but even her slight weight is oppressive to him.

  Hu hears her growl. Her fingers grip into his arm and fasten tightly to the side of his head. Sharon comes down on him. Her jagged teeth sink into the flesh of his shoulder.

  Hu screams himself awake. Officer Chambers stares at him through the clear protective partition separating the front and back seats in the patrol car. Hu’s eyes dart around, taking in his surroundings. Sharon is nowhere to be found.

  “Are you all right, sir?” Officer Chambers asks.

  Hu’s breathing is labored. He sweats profusely. The pain of his cuts and scrapes and bruises filter back into his awareness as the dreamscape fades from his mind. He’s with the officer from the station. They are in his patrol car.

  Hu finally nods, focusing on the officer in the front seat. The man’s expression is slightly concerned. He waits patiently for his passenger to reply.

  “A nightmare,” Hu admits. “I must have dozed off for a minute.”

  Officer Chambers nods with a sympathetic smile. “It’s okay, sir. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised with what you went through tonight. Let’s get you inside the precinct house for some coffee, eh? You’ll feel better, I think. We even have a psychologist who would be glad to speak with you about your experience. It might help.”

  Hu wraps his blanket a little tighter around himself. “Thank you, I’m fine. That coffee sounds good.”

  Chambers exits, closing the driver’s door and opening the rear door for Hu. He gets out into the chill night, huddling beneath his blanket, eager to get inside the police station where the air will be warm. He doesn’t know which precinct they’ve driven to, or what road they’re on. At this point, it doesn’t matter. He just wants to get inside where there’s warmth and light and the safety of an entire building filled with police officers.

  Twenty minutes later, Hu sits on a couch inside the police precinct with a cup of hot coffee in his hand. A blueberry muffin waits upon a side table. Hu hasn’t touched it. His stomach feels upset, like he might become sick.

  Officer Chambers has gone somewhere in the department. Hu does not know where. He was promised he would be able to give a statement very soon, but no one comes to speak with him.

  Hu stares into his cup, at the steam rising from the dark liquid. He feels the heat fading through the ceramic. A listlessness comes over him, gradually but steadily. He feels the aches and pains of the wounds he received during his ordeal. Movement hurts, so he remains very still, breathing, wanting to sleep but unable to rest.

  Scraps of conversation come to him from the room. Hu hears officers speaking about the tunnel attack. He notes a number of police officers are said to be injured. Many are on their way to one or more local hospitals at this very moment. He questions this in his mind. There is something bad about the news, but he isn’t quite sure anymore what that is.

  Should he ask one of the officers? He thinks he should warn them of the bad, but he can’t remember why. Besides, his arms and legs ache. A numbness settles in with the stillness. Numb is better than pain, so he feels better remaining where he is on the leather couch.

  A man is brought in at some point. Hu doesn’t recognize the man. He is not dressed in a uniform. The man is young, and he smells of sweat and smoke. Hu is able to smell a great deal of things in the squad room.

  The clock on the wall above one of the doors is an old style analog timepiece, the cheap kind with a paper face, flimsy tin hands and a tiny AA battery driven motor in the back. Time passes, but Hu does not regard it. Things like time and warnings and wounded officers grow meaningless in his mind.

  The attack in the Tubes seems of little consequence now. Already, he cannot remember the face of the person who tried to kill him. Hu begins to wonder why he sits here in this place. Is he here for some purpose? Officer Chambers, the last person to actually speak to him when he gave him the coffee and muffin, fades from his thoughts.

  Something is clenched in his hands. It was warm some time ago, but the heat is gone. He hasn’t drunk any of the liquid. It smells pungent and unpleasant, not something he wants to ingest. Why is he holding it?

  His grip on the cup relaxes. Coffee pours onto his lap, but Hu only notices his leg is now wet. This doesn’t awaken any desire to move. It is not troubling. It simply is.

  The man sitting on the couch next to Hu laughs.

  “Good one, mate,” he says, snickering.

  Hu turns his head to look at the man. He cannot remember seeing this thing before. He wonders what he’s looking at. A person? What is a person? Terms have no meaning in his thoughts. He feels like things he once understood are slipping away, shadowy wisps that make no sense to him now.

  He cannot keep his grasp on them. This does not trouble him. Hu doesn’t want those thoughts any longer. They become foreign to him with every passing tick of the thing upon the wall. Its purpose and function are meaningless.

  However, as many things slip away in his mind, Hu is aware of a feeling growing inside him. A desire builds. A need rises, assuming a place of utmost importance. He cannot remember what was there before.

  Nothing.

  There is only this need now.

  There is only hunger.

  Friend or Foe

  Regardless of their motives, it’s hard to call someone an enemy when they’re trying to keep you alive—Jonathan Parks

  The elevator doors part, revealing only an empty hallway. Each of us in the square box lets out a little sigh of relief. I know I was expecting the worse. Holly, at least, shared that fear. After all, we have seen the nightmarish creatures that roam these corridors. Four of them are dead, that we know of, but that still leaves four others.

  We step into the hallway cautiously. Looking both ways, we find no one nearby. If not for the alarm lights still flashing at intervals in the corridors, it might not be apparent an emergency situation exists at all.

  Holly and I stand in the front with Garth and Cassie behind us. We both have guns, so it seems practical at this point. Listening, I hear distance cries for help coming from different locations. Some of the voices are male, some female.

  “Which way?” I ask Holly.

  Before she can answer, a squelch comes from a speaker in the ceiling nearby.

  “Holly, is that you by the Sector Four elevator?” a young man’s voice asks over the intercom.

  We all look around. I know the sound came from a speaker, but how did they see Holly?

  “We can see you on camera from the lab,” the voice says. “Nod if you can hear me.”

  We locate the nearest camera at an intersection ahead. Holly nods in that direction.

  “Good,” the voice replies. “Several of us are trapped in here. The doors won’t respond to pass codes. Might be the alarm. This is Scott. I’ve patched us into the video feed.”

  “Scott Bishop,” Holly informs our group. “He’s one of our virologists. Bit of a computer guru also. Makes sense he would be the one to crack the
network.”

  “But he said they’re trapped,” I note. “What can he do from inside?”

  “I’m not sure,” Holly says. “He may be able to get word to SIS though. Stop them from cleansing the Tombs until we can get out.”

  “It’s worth a shot,” Garth says. “Maybe we can get them out from our side.”

  Holly looks at the camera again, pointing to our group and then to the camera.

  “You’re coming to us?” the voice asks. “Excellent, but be careful. I see a lot of people down. And there’s one of the hospital attack victims trying to get into the lab. She’s pounding the windows, looking for a way inside.”

  “A lot of people down,” Holly says quietly. “He didn’t say dead.”

  “What does that mean?” Cassie asks.

  “It probably means they could be infected now,” I reply.

  “They shouldn’t be dangerous so quickly,” Holly says. “But it does mean they probably will become that way with time.”

  “How much time?” Garth asks.

  Holly looks at me then back to Garth. “I don’t know. As the virus passes from host to host, it may turn them faster. The lab employees would be third generation. With each new generation, as Immune responses that slow it down are overcome, the new information may be incorporated to make it more efficient.”

  “Then we have to get to the lab as quickly as possible,” I say. “They have access to computers. If we can break them out, then we might have a chance to escape the whole facility. This Scott guy can probably do more at the control center you mentioned.”

  Holly nods and starts down the hall.

  I follow with my weapon ready to fire now, just in case. At least we know one of them is somewhere outside the lab windows, agitated and trying to get inside. Still, that leaves more running around. As fast as they move, we have to be vigilant.

  Behind me, I hear the ring of metal as Garth removes his katana from its scabbard on his back. “Just don’t come up short and run your sword through my back,” I say.