The dead wildly searching for anything and lunging forward have me thinking of what Slade is planning. Whatever it is, it’s more than likely not good. For me anyways.
I keep my arms taut and my fight status peaked, every mutated muscle pulsating with the urge to maim and kill. My eyes cut from the dead to Slade and then to the soldiers. My ears perk up, listening for any added bonus surprises that they might try to spring on me. Stay sharp. Don’t lose focus.
“I want you to know, Mike, that I’m going to make this as painful as possible. I’m not sure if you can feel pain now, given your current condition, but I guess we’re going to find out,” Slade says with a serious look.
Guess he’s done playing around.
“I thought you wanted to cut me up into tiny pieces and study me?”
“I’ll get whatever scraps they leave after they’ve had their fill.”
And just like that Slade gives me one last look, our eyes locking onto one another’s. The connection is so strong it’s almost as if I can feel what he’s feeling and thinking. Hell, really you can look at him and know exactly how much he despises me. Not much of a mystery there.
Slade turns around and walks past the dead, their ravaged fingers grabbing his shirt as he disappears into the blackness. The soldiers follow right on his six, leaving me alone with the gruesome twosome.
With no one left to tempt the dead, they both bring their attention back to me. Snarling and growling, mixed in with some shrills as spit and blood ooze out between their rotted, jagged teeth they fight the restraints clinging to their necks once more. I glance at the black rusted pulley overhead and pull down, finding that it’s in much better shape than I thought. I flex my muscles and yank down hard, allowing all my body weight to press the rusted metal. Nothing. Shit.
Click . . . Click . . .
Two clicking sounds echo in the room and send my head searching as I continue to press the pulley. The metal horseshoe restraints that are holding my hungry guests at bay release, and rotate back into the floor. Great.
The undead waste little time and come for the pig on the silver platter. Mouths ajar, their endless appetites drive them towards me like a freight train out of control. I lift my body into the air and throw my legs forward, nailing both square in the face. Their bones crack and crunch under my thick-soled boots, their mutated blood squirting out the sides. They stumble backwards and fall flat on their backs, blood splattering across the dirty floor.
Keeping my body taut, the muscles in my arms rippling as I pull my body up higher on the chain, I pause and yank down hard. The chain straightens out and the rusted pulley overhead gives way with little resistance, snapping and sending me to the floor.
The dead pick themselves up and train their thoughtless stares towards me. I probably managed to piss them off more than anything. Oh well.
Starring me down and spreading out, they come for me once more. I pick up the loose chain that has the pulley still attached and sling it to the right. It slams into the one’s deformed and battered head. Upon impact the head cracks, and the infected falls to the side lifeless. Chunks of brain matter fill the air and cake the rusted metal’s exterior.
I jerk the chain back towards me, the pulley scraping along the floor as the other infected grabs me from behind. Growling and its hot breath crawling down my neck, it digs its ridged teeth into my shoulder and clamps down. It’s strong, holding me in place with its meat challenged arms that have spots where its forearm is showing through the thinly laced flesh. It’s determined and doesn’t let up, pulling and jerking my meaty body.
I lean forward, ripping my shoulder from its mouth and giving me some wiggle room. Blood streams down my shoulder and onto my chest, soaking my shirt through. On top of its incessant shrilling and growling, I hear two separate metal doors open. Great! Now what?
Another mutated undead rushes in, chomping its mouth and sprinting with a heavy foot towards us. The other sound is that of gears jostling about, weapons clanging together. I count only one possible soldier. Now it’s a party.
The monkey on my back goes for seconds, pulling me towards him as the other emerges from the shadows. Blood pours from its lipless mouth, splattering the floor around its mutated feet. I catch a quick glimpse of the lone soldier standing off to the side, silently waiting with his gun trained at us. I’m getting used to being stuck between this rock and hard place.
I ram my head back hard and crown the pulse-less body, striking it again where it’s nose used to be. It releases me, stumbling backwards like a drunken fool and giving me some personal space. I grab it by its deformed arm and hurl it towards the soldier, gunfire instantly brightening up the darkness as the other dead infected sprints toward me. Not very tactical and more mindless then thoughtful, it reaches for me.
With a jerk of the chain still attached to me, I step to the side and slip it around its decaying neck. I pull back sternly, tightening the steel and killing its forward motion. It growls and shrills, arms swinging wildly. I shove my knee in the mid part of its back and jerk the chain down. Its head tears free from its body and rolls across the floor. Blood pumps from its stump and sprays me in the face. Dead once more.
I kick the dead body to the side, just for grins, and give my attention to the various sounds coming from the darkness. Looks like the soldier didn’t fare well. His body is laid out like an open buffet as the undead rip chunks of flesh from the body. Multiple exit wounds litter the infected’s back, and part of its face is missing, exposing a portion of its cracked cheek bone.
It pauses and tilts its head to the side, staring at me. It bears its teeth and gives a low shrill, springing from its stooped position and lunging forward. Instinctively, I grasp its head and flick my wrist, snapping its neck. It crumbles to the floor, nothing more than a rotting corpse.
I kneel in front of the now mutilated soldier, the stench of fresh and overly rotted meat penetrating my nose. But it does nothing to tempt me. I’m not the least bit curious as to what it would taste like. Fighting back the urge is easy when it’s not there. Part of me, regardless of how much, is still human and I plan on remaining that way.
Keys. I need to find some keys and get out of these cuffs.
Scavenging the dead soldier, I rummage through his utility belt and pockets that are lined up and down his pants. I finally find a set of keys buried deep in his back pocket. I push his body to the side and fish them out. Not too many, just a handful. I go through them quickly, coming up short on the first three, but strike gold on the fourth. Removing the restraints and rubbing my wrists, I get to work stripping the body.
He’s loaded with an array of goodies that will definitely come in handy. Flash bang grenades, a few frag grenades, a couple pistols, and of course his machine gun which is still clutched tightly in his hand.
I remove the blood soaked belt from his waist and slip it on. Perfect fit. I gather up what extra ammo he has tucked in his pockets and grab his machine gun. He’s got a death grip on it, his fingers still wrapped around the butt and one lone finger resting on the trigger. Time to let go, amigo. I don’t think you have any more use for it.
Grabbing his stiff fingers and prying them away from the metal, I take the gun and eject the clip. It’s partially used of course, but still in good shape. No need to replace with a fresh mag yet. Pistols look good too, fully loaded.
Still kneeling next to the soldier’s body, I notice something illuminated on his left forearm. It is face down, the blue glow from its screen lighting up the pool of blood in some weird color. I lift his arm and remove the device, wiping away the blood that has been smeared across the screen. It takes me a minute to decipher what it is, the screen changing every couple of seconds and showing different images and readouts in real time. Looks to be some sort of digital GPS unit for this facility.
I attach it to my forearm and play around with it, getting the hang of its controls and layout rather quickly. I widen the scope and get a bird’s eye view of where I’m at. The
murder of dead piling up at the multiple entrances is mounting, the blood red color growing before my eyes.
With some swift finger work, I locate the holding cells and get a beat on Slade. He’s not too far from here, but looks like he’s pretty well guarded. The swarm of guards flows all over, making me wonder how I’m going to get close enough to Slade and the cells.
There aren’t too many options staring me in the face, but the murder of dead gives me an idea. It’s a long shot and probably one I’ll regret, but my dead brethren are about to serve a purpose.
I trace out a route on the screen to the main electrical room for the facility, finding it to be much closer and just a short way up the hall from where I’m at. There doesn’t seem to be very many guards patrolling that way at the moment. Time to get moving.
Taking the fallen soldier’s radio and earpiece, I get on the move. Activity seems to be the same as it was before. Most of the soldiers are being routed to the various entrances to contain the murder of dead, leaving just a small portion to protect Slade and patrol the halls. Perfect.
I’m almost done, my love. I can see the horizon.
The thick metal door creaks and squeaks as I open it. I slowly let the barrel of the machine gun pop its head out first.
Silence.
I glance back over my shoulder, looking over the dead bodies spread across the floor. That could’ve been me. They’ve tried and failed yet again.
The door squeaks more as I push it open just enough for me to narrowly slip out into the hall. I get moving, my eyes ever vigilant and my ears tracking the slightest noise as I hug the wall. My weapon stays at the ready in case things get ugly. As I near the T in the road, I glance down at my wrist and see a single blob stationary the way I’m going. I peer around the corner, spotting the lone soldier pacing back and forth. He’s not too far from me and he’s walking the opposite way, his back to me.
I sling the machine gun over my right shoulder and slip around the corner, hurrying towards him and wondering when he’s going to turn around. I close the gap fast and reach for his helmet with my hands, gripping it tightly and flicking my wrist. He crumbles, and I catch him mid-fall. I give a quick glance about, checking for any more company. Clear. The main generator room for the complex is just ahead. Damn, this guy is heavy.
Heaving dead weight, I drag the soldier the rest of the way and make the door. The squeaking of my shoes on the floor sounds like an f-ing marching band. Hope it’s just me.
Grabbing the doorknob, I twist and push forward, opening the solid door, and slip inside. I drag the dead soldier in and shove him into a corner. The silent humming of the generators fills my ears as I peer around. I’m on top of a steel grate catwalk that leads to the left and runs down along the wall. I check the layout on my wrist, but getting nothing except static and snow. Guess I’ll just need to be extra careful.
Shouldering my weapon, I make my way across the grate to the stairs, my eyes locked below for any activity. I’m not so much concerned with the dead being down here, but more so with any soldiers or engineers roaming about. So far, I don’t see or hear anything except for the generators, but it looks like it expands back further than what I can see.
My boots hit the landing and I slowly start descending, keeping close to the wall, my weapon trained ahead. It’s so quiet, the sound of my boots catching onto the rigid metal grates and my other various arsenals shifting seem like thunder.
I make the bottom rung and step to the floor, pausing as I scan left and right. Nothing. Just steam being vented by some of the generators. It’s dark and dank. My eyes adjust to the blackness, the green hue taking hold and bringing everything into a much clearer picture.
I need to locate the main shut off switch, wherever the hell that is. I really don’t have time to search all over. They’ll soon discover the mess I left and then the cat will be out of the bag. Perhaps next time I should be a bit more tactful and not kill everyone right off the bat. Just a thought.
I begin to move further in when gunfire erupts from behind me, shells buzzing past me and narrowly grazing my scalp. I catch a round in the upper left shoulder, the bullet tearing its way out the other side. I twist around and return fire while backing up, the bright yellow flashes of my muzzle spitting out death dealers as the hail storm of gunfire continues its onslaught.
Whatever happened to “Freeze” or “Drop your weapon”?
Getting low and darting in between some of the generators, I hold up for a few, allowing the soldiers to expend their ammunition. The rounds ping off the metal tubes. Blood trickles from my shoulder and down my arm, clopping to the floor.
I return fire, calculated and more precise this time, and manage to take out two of the soldiers. Throat and head shots are always kill shots. I count three soldiers left that I can see.
The remaining band of brothers split up and take different tactical positions around me, trying to box me in. “Sir, we’ve got a situation in the generator room,” one of the soldiers says over the radio, gunfire echoing in the background.
“You idiots, be careful down there and watch what you’re shooting at. You knock out too many of those generators and the infected on the other side of those doors will get through.”
“Yes, sir. We’ve got him boxed in and should have him shortly.”
The line goes silent once more as the gunfire let’s up. I hear them chattering to one another, low and hard for me to make out. They’re more than likely scheming and trying to figure out how they’re going to come in here and get me. Good luck with that.
“We’ve got you surrounded and there’s no place for you to go. Throw out your weapons, come out with your hands up and you’ll not be harmed,” one of the soldiers orders, his voice deep and stern.
Yeah. Not be harmed, huh? I might be deadish, but I’m no fool.
I hold tight and keep my position, not offering a single response. Not a “go to hell” or “come and get me.” I pick up a faint noise to my left coming towards me slowly. It’s pitch black where I’m at, which is good for me as it’s adding some cover. It has to be one of the soldiers trying to flank me.
Lying in wait, I conceal myself between some of the equipment as he approaches, cautiously stepping with one foot in front of the other as his pistol trains all over. He walks past me, no clue to my whereabouts. I step out and grab him from behind, removing the knife on his hip and jamming it hard into his lower back with one fluid motion. His body goes limp and I gently lay him down, trying not to arouse any suspicion.
Time to turn things up a notch.
“What’s your status? Did you get him?” one of the soldiers quietly says over the radio.
Static . . .
“Damn it. Take the far end and flush him out towards me. I’ll be waiting,” the soldier orders his last and only backup.
These fools still have no clue that I can hear everything they’re saying.
I ready a flash bang grenade as the soldier slips out from behind his cover and advances. I pull the clip and toss it, the clanging sound of the metal rattling on the ground stopping the soldiers cold.
Boom!
The sound is loud and disorienting, the light so immense it even rattles me. The soldiers stumble about. I dart out of my hiding space and take out one of the soldiers with a single round to the head, dropping him instantly.
The other soldier opens fire, wildly spraying anything and everything as he stumbles into some equipment. Bullets scream past me as I run for cover, sirens and red flashing lights illuminating everything in a blood red color.
Pockets of steam vent from the numerous bullet holes, hissing loudly, and the massive cylinders convulse violently. Time to get while the getting is good.
Up and on the run, I dart for the stairs and hit the bottom rung.
Zing!
A single round whizzes past my head and impacts the concrete wall right in front of me. I cock my head to the side and find the lone soldier advancing, his weapon trained at my head.
>
“That was a warning shot. Now put down your damn weapon and place your hands behind your head. You’re coming with me.”
He’s more concerned with bringing me in and not the fact that this place is in a total melt down.
“DO IT NOW!”
Rivets on both ends of the cylinders shoot out in every direction, the metal bowing out from the pent up pressure. I catch a glimpse of one of the gauges twisting freely around like a carnival ride, shaking uncontrollably.
Weapon still clutched in my hand, the soldier readies to fire. Behind him a cylinder explodes, hurling his body across the room and into the wall. The blast knocks me flat, my eyes bouncing around in my skull.
I pick myself up off the flight of stairs and get moving, the chain reaction jumping from one cylinder to another. Explosion after explosion make the stairs rattle with intensity and the ceiling crumbles as fire erupts and engulfs the area. Chunks of metal and rock blow past me, indenting the walls and striking my body.
There’s the door. My feet touch down on the catwalk and I run for it. A solid piece of the ceiling jars loose and falls, striking the catwalk behind me and ripping the steel support clean from the wall.
I crest the doorway just as the catwalk falls into the fiery inferno below, and another blast propels me out of the room. I slam into the wall across the corridor, cratering the concrete as the pressure blows out the walls. Chunks of rebar and concrete land around me as the deafening noise and the heat from the fire reach into the hall.
Rattled and disoriented, I pick myself up, dust and bits of concrete falling from my back. I get to my feet and look ahead, the lights now gone and a few backup red lights flashing on and off. A bit more theatrical than what I wanted, but it’ll do.
Damn it! My radio’s toast. The receiver’s cracked and its guts are hanging out. I rip the ear piece from my ear and toss the scrap heap to the side.
Blood races down both sides of my face and a jagged piece of rebar has skewered my left thigh. I grip the rigid tip and pull the metal out, scraps of skin clinging to the end. Let the bloodletting begin.
Afflicted: Patient Zero (An Outbreak Zombie Infected Horror Suspense Series, Book 1) Page 18