by Matt Handle
The Oland Fertilizer Company had manufactured their particular brand of lawn enhancers for nearly four decades on this spot. At their peak, several years before the onset of the plague, they’d employed almost 10% of the town of Wildwood’s citizens. Like the rest of the deserted burg, it had settled into a state of rust and overgrown weeds and soon, it wouldn’t be anything more than ash and soot.
The main building was L-shaped and looked like it might have been made of wood, although at this distance, all that could really be seen with any clarity was the steel skeleton of the building and a pair of metal silos. The taller silo rose over the perpendicular angle in the middle of the building and the shorter one stood on the far end of the eastern side, engulfed in flames. The fire hadn’t reached a pair of smaller structures that might have been offices and were a short distance away from the main building. A single road branched off the main drag about half a mile ahead that led to what looked like an open security gate to the property.
As they neared the gate, they passed a green, rusted metal sign posted on the side of the road that advertised the company’s name and Florida-shaped logo.
Sawyer saw the sign as they swept by it and snorted to himself before saying “No wonder the thing lit up a mile high.”
Fifty yards ahead and off to the left, Sawyer registered a half dozen shadows scuttling across the field, humped over and whip-thin, but unmistakable.
“We’ve got company,” he told the girls. “Six bogeys coming in fast from the left.”
Sawyer slammed on the brakes and had his door open before the vehicle had come to a complete stop. “Take the wheel,” he told Angel without looking back to see if she was following orders. “Keep going straight until we get to the factory even if you have to mow the things down.”
As he started to climb into the harness of the weapons ring atop the Humvee, Angel strapped herself into the driver’s seat and called out “And then what?”
Sawyer got himself situated behind the gunner shield and swung the M60 around toward where he’d last spotted the incoming Afflicted.
“If they’re all dead, park it and we’ll have ourselves a weenie roast. If I’m still shooting, you and Jenny step out and join the party,” Sawyer replied.
The last thing Angel wanted was another showdown with a horde of cannibals, but she slammed the door shut and pressed down on the gas pedal anyway. The Humvee lurched forward under her and they continued the race toward the conflagration and whatever might be left of the person or thing that started it.
Seconds later, Sawyer opened fire. The staggering staccato boom of the big gun’s firing mechanism drowned out all other noise inside or around the speeding vehicle. Angel fought to keep them on the road as they jostled back and forth across the uneven pavement, gripping the wheel with both hands. She watched the loping monsters go down one by one, bullets carving them up as Sawyer tracked them down and kept his finger on the trigger.
More of the creatures appeared to their right as they closed in on the main building of the factory, but Sawyer shot them down before they could reach the road as well. Nevertheless, by the time Angel brought the Humvee to a screeching halt as close to the fire as she thought was safe, she could see dozens more of the rabid monsters racing toward them, approaching from all sides, intent on the blaze and the noise of their approach.
“Grab your gun, honey,” she told Jenny as she glanced back to see the girl looking scared and vulnerable in the backseat. “We need to get out and help Sawyer. Stay right beside me.”
Sawyer busied himself cutting down the nearest attackers to the right as Angel and Jenny stepped out of the Humvee on the driver’s side and took aim at a pack of four of the monsters that were coming in from the opposite direction. Before either of them could get off a shot, a barrage of gunfire came from the direction of the factory, tearing the four Afflicted to shreds.
At the sound of the new salvo, Sawyer swiveled in his turret toward the main silo at the same time Angel and Jenny looked to see who had taken out their targets. An attached metal ladder ran up the side of the silo to a platform that circled the tower about two thirds of the way toward the top. Standing at this vantage point, silhouetted against the surrounding blaze, a lone figure, likely male but too small to be a grown adult was wearing a gas mask and aiming a machine gun down toward the remaining oncoming monsters.
“Looks like someone else has the same idea!” Sawyer shouted to his friends. “Start shooting and I’ll keep an eye on him. Friend or foe, as long as he’s aiming for them instead of us, he’s the least of our worries!”
Angel took note of the flames that were already eating away at the building around the silo and exclaimed “He’s going to get himself killed up there!”
Sawyer just nodded and squeezed the trigger again, intent on neutralizing as many of their attackers as possible. “So are we if you don’t start shooting soon!” he replied.
At that, Angel and Jenny opened fire, picking off as many of the Afflicted as they could. Jenny was tentative at first, her aim terrible, but as the monsters kept coming, dozens of them jumping the perimeter fence and running across the fields at them, she managed to hit a few, gaining confidence. Angel was still a much better shot, but both instinctively knew they had to either kill the beasts or be killed themselves.
It was a blood bath. The sheer volume of bullets raining down from the twin machine guns of Sawyer and the kid on the tower eventually wore down the number of monsters. Within minutes, only a handful of Afflicted could still be seen and those were more tentative, hiding in the tall grass or plastered against the sides of the small out buildings, hungry but wary of their prey’s defenses.
Sawyer jumped down off the top of the Humvee and joined Angel and Jenny where they stood, backs to the vehicle, guns trained on anything that still moved.
“Kill as many as you can,” he told them. “If it gets too hot, get back in the Humvee and circle around the property.”
Nerves on edge, Jenny asked “Where are you going?”
Sawyer pulled off his shirt and said “I’m going to go get the kid before the fire does.”
Tying the shirt around the lower half of his face, Sawyer created a makeshift mask to cover his nose and mouth, keeping out the increasingly thick smoke. He jogged toward the tower and had almost reached it when one of the Afflicted, middle-aged and bald-headed, skin burnt black over most of its arms and face, shuffled from around the other side and reached out to grab him by the throat.
Sawyer put a bullet in the monster’s face without breaking stride, splitting open the thing’s nose like an overly ripe tomato. It sank to the ground in a bloody heap as Sawyer reached the ladder and began to climb.
Halfway up the silo, Sawyer could see the kid in more detail. He was still wearing the gas mask so his face was hidden, but based on the physique, Sawyer was sure it was a boy, a teenager. The kid was screaming like a banshee as he fired his weapon at the remaining Afflicted below.
Sawyer yelled up at him, “Hey, kid!”
The boy kept shooting, either unable to hear Sawyer over the noise or just ignoring him. The smoke was getting even worse, clawing at Sawyer’s throat and nearly blinding him. He coughed into his fist and started climbing higher, trying to reach the platform before it was too late.
When he reached the platform, the blazing fire had nearly engulfed the surrounding building, the heat almost unbearable. Sawyer could see the girls below, their backs still against the side of the Humvee and their guns drawn. Both were staring up at Sawyer and the boy instead of focusing on whatever might be left of their attackers.
“Damnit,” Sawyer whispered to himself. He had to hurry. He’d rescue the boy if he could, but not at the expense of his friends.
The boy seemed to be shooting at shadows at this point, wasting ammunition and too overwhelmed by adrenaline to notice. When the boy finally ran out of bullets, Sawyer stepped over to him and slowly but firmly placed his hand atop the boy’s rifle barrel. The boy realize
d the gun was clicking empty and removed his finger from the trigger, allowing Sawyer to push the gun downward and sideways so that it wasn’t pointed at Sawyer or the girls. He was standing right in front of the boy now and as he looked into the hazy face shield of the gas mask, he could see that the boy was crying. His brown eyes were red and swollen and streaks ran over his smooth cheeks and down his grimy face.
“It’s okay,” Sawyer told him. “Come on; let’s get you out of here.”
When he was sure the kid had calmed down a bit, Sawyer removed the gun from the boy’s hands, placed it gently on the metal platform and then guided the kid toward the ladder. They headed down together, Sawyer first, both taking one careful step after another. Sawyer was now coughing badly enough that he was starting to feel weak and light-headed, his brain starved for oxygen.
By the time the pair reached the ground, the platform above was lost in the smoke and the remaining Afflicted seemed to be losing their fear of the guns. Half a dozen were creeping away from the buildings and stealthily moving toward the Humvee and the girls.
Sawyer staggered toward the vehicle, dragging the kid along beside him.
“Get back in the Humvee!” he called out to Angel. “You’ve driving. The place is going to blow any minute and we’re almost out of ammo!”
Angel and Jenny did as they were told with Sawyer and the boy stumbling right behind them. Sawyer managed to shoot a couple more of the monsters before he shoved the boy into the back beside Jenny and tucked himself into the passenger seat.
“Move it!” Sawyer barked before going into another coughing fit.
Angel slammed the pedal to the floor and they sped off down the road, all four of them bouncing in their seats as the Humvee traversed the torn up pavement. As they neared the abandoned security gate, a lone Afflicted, burly and stripped to the waist, its pants shredded and covered in dried blood, shuffled out from the tall grass and into the middle of the road. It stood waiting on them as if daring them to hit it.
Angel glanced toward Sawyer and he nodded.
“Drive right through it,” he told her.
She did, the Humvee hitting the Afflicted head-on with the speedometer reading 45 MPH. The monster slammed into the grill and then was thrown onto the windshield where it splattered the bulletproof glass in blood and gore before sliding off and dropping to the side of the road.
Jenny let out a yelp at the moment of impact and Angel groaned as she tried to see the road through the now red-smeared view.
Sawyer chuckled, setting off a new round of coughing.
“Nobody said killing these things wasn’t messy,” he quipped as he hacked into his fist. “Get us back to the highway. We’ll clean it off later.”
Sawyer turned around in his seat to look at the kid and said, “You can take off the mask. You’re safe with us.”
Leaving it on, the kid asked “How long have you been outside?”
“Five days, why?” Sawyer replied, giving the boy a closer inspection.
The kid removed his gas mask, revealing a boyish face and a mop of unruly brown hair. He was handsome, even while covered in grime, and looked like he was probably about 16 or 17 years old.
“The virus is air and water borne with an incubation period of 24 to 72 hours give or take,” he responded.
“How do you know?” Jenny challenged him.
The kid looked Jenny in the eye and answered, “Because my dad invented it eight years ago.”
Chapter 10
Erika Ling sat on the corner of her marital bed and sobbed. On her lap was an open photo album that contained pictures of her wedding day from six years ago. She traced the shape of Albert’s face in a photo of the two of them standing arm in arm with a Hawaiian sunset in the background. They’d decided on a Western-style destination wedding and both the ceremony and the honeymoon had been beautiful. Albert wore a smile on his face that said everything she’d needed to know that long ago August evening. He’d loved her with all of his heart. And now he was dead.
One of Biomech’s two remaining administrative managers had come to her office less than an hour before and delivered the news. A terrible accident in the lab, a sudden infection that could have wiped out the entire subterranean community if security hadn’t acted so quickly, and now Albert was gone forever. His body reduced to ash and Erika left to mourn him in this cold, sterile, underground world that was surrounded by madness and death.
She’d managed to keep something of her composure as the grim-faced administrator had delivered his message and then left her to grieve. Knowing she’d lose it if she tried to explain to her coworkers what she’d just learned, Erika had simply closed her office door behind her and then rushed upstairs to her room. Now here she sat, alone with nothing but her memories of her sweet husband and this photo album they’d brought back with them on that long flight from Honolulu so many years ago.
Their marriage hadn’t been easy. Even before the plague began, they’d both put in extraordinary hours at Biomech, Albert with his microscopes in the bio-engineering lab and Erika with her computers in the advanced robotics offices. They loved one another, but they also loved their work. Ambition was one of the traits that had attracted Erika to the shy, New York biologist in the first place. She was intelligent, attractive, well-paid, and much more comfortable in social circles than her late husband. She’d had no shortage of suitors after arriving in the southeastern technology hub that was pre-plague Atlanta, but Albert had stood apart. Even after all these years stuck in this modern-day fortress, she’d still had complete faith that one day she and Albert would be able to strike out on their own. They’d start a family, perhaps start their own company, but no matter what happened, they’d always be together.
Erika swiped at her red and swollen eyes and nose with a tissue. All of those dreams were gone now. She thought back to this morning when both she and Albert had been rushing out the door to avoid being late getting downstairs. The brief kiss and perfunctory “I love you” would be their last. She broke into a fresh round of sobbing and clutched the album to her chest. She needed to talk to Benjamin Klein. This thought suddenly bloomed in her mind like a firecracker lighting up the darkness. Doctor Klein had been Albert’s boss. He would have been in the laboratory when the accident occurred. And he might know the details of what caused her husband’s tragic death.
Fifteen minutes later, Erika had washed her face, put on a bit of fresh makeup, and was headed to bio-engineering. In the old days, before the plague, Erika could have never just walked into a section of the complex that she didn’t belong in. Security had been tight and access was closely guarded with swipe cards and teams who spent their days and nights monitoring cameras and access logs. Today, security was no more than a handful of personnel that focused on keeping the outer perimeter secure via locks and guns. The skeleton crew of scientists that remained working at Biomech could basically access any section of the underground complex they desired. When you had to make do with less than 5% of the work force you were accustomed to, you couldn’t waste valuable time requesting and waiting for clearance. There was a certain level of trust granted to one another. After all, why would one try to harm the company or its work? Where would you go if you did? They had survived together and now they had to live together. Like it or not, Biomech was home.
When Erika entered the sterile, white-walled laboratory that had been her late husband’s second home, she saw Klein leaning over a microscope as another scientist by the name of Gilmore, if she recalled correctly, stood next to him taking notes on a clipboard. Erika starting walking toward the pair and was still about six feet away when Klein looked up from what he was doing and spotted her.
Erika’s first thought was that Ben looked like he’d aged 10 years. The bags under his solemn brown eyes were noticeably heavier than when she’d last seen him a week or so ago and his cheeks seemed to have sunken in, leaving the skin on his jawline loose and saggy. When their eyes met, the older doctor blanched, his mouth dr
opping open momentarily before he managed to compose himself and whisper to his assistant that they’d be taking a break.
Klein strode over to the recent widow and reached out both hands to clasp one of hers, offering her his heartfelt condolences and explaining how sorry he was that he hadn’t been able to come talk to her in person yet. His work was so important to the cause and even busier with the sudden tragic loss of her husband that he simply hadn’t been able to get out of the lab yet.
Erika responded with something she hoped displayed the appropriate level of gratitude and then leaned in close to make sure no one could hear what she whispered in Klein’s ear.
“Is there somewhere private we can talk?” she asked him. “I need to know exactly what happened to Albert.”
Benjamin grimaced slightly, but gave Erika a brief nod and then placed a hand on her back, guiding her toward his office on the opposite end of the lab. Once he’d shut the door behind them, leaving them alone in the cramped 12x12 space, Ben quietly offered Erika a seat as he slipped into his own rolling chair behind his cluttered desk.
Erika sat down and clasped her hands in her lap, trying to remain calm. As she looked at the older man’s face she saw reluctance and what she thought might be fear. She’d always known Benjamin Klein to be a confident, well spoken professional that rarely seemed to be at a loss for words, but as he fidgeted in his seat, she realized he was stalling.
When he finally settled down and met her gaze, Ben looked wary, like a cornered animal facing a potentially lethal encounter it still hoped to escape from. He coughed slightly and then leaned forward as if he wanted to keep the conversation from some invisible eavesdropper that was lurking just on the other side of the office’s thin walls.