Am I Dead?: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (The Great Dying Book 2)

by Paul Seiple

  "You'd think the glass would seal out the smell a bit, but nope," Ferris said.

  "You're keeping the dead?"

  "They're not actually dead. OK, maybe they are dead, but the virus is very alive inside them. Warren was right. The virus evolves."

  "Why…why are you keeping them?" Dawson asked.

  "They're actually a pretty good weapon," Mitchell Ashe said, stepping into the doorway behind Dawson and Ferris.

  "You're insane," Dawson said.

  "So was Sir Isaac Newton. I'd say I'm in good company," Ashe said. "Where are you hiding Warren and Preston?"

  "I'm not telling you. You'll just use them in this sick game you’re creating. Warren is the only real hope.”

  "So dramatic, Alan. Only real hope? Blah, blah, blah. I am the true hope. I have the cure. Well, cure never healed the infected. We never got that far. My cure killed the disease. I need the disease to live...under my control," Ashe said.

  "This is not what I signed on for," Dawson said.

  "It most certainly is, Alan. Don't act shocked. You were all in when the plan was to create a weapon to become rich beyond your imagination," Ashe said. “The weapon just turned out to be different than advertised. Things evolve.”

  "You're keeping sick people in cells," Dawson said.

  "It's better than the alternative. In the wild, they will kill or be killed and surely infect others. This is a controlled epidemic," Ashe said. He walked over to one of the pods and tapped the glass. Three men slammed their bodies against the window. One bit at the glass, shattering his front teeth. "They're fine. Maybe a little hungry, but fine."

  Dawson scanned the left side of the room. The infected pressed against the glass windows like farm animals at feeding time. "You can't keep them like this. It's cruel."

  "I don't plan on keeping them in this state. Warren will develop a cure, and I'll be their savior," Ashe said. "Take a long look, Alan. This is the future. And the future is the Minerva."

  "You have no idea the destruction this virus is capable of causing. The entire city could be infected," Dawson said.

  "Then you should stop wasting time and tell me where Warren and Preston are hiding," Ashe said.

  "I don't know. We haven't found them," Dawson said.

  "You're lying to me, Alan. That's a shame. Throw him in cell 8," Ashe said.

  Theo Ferris grabbed Dawson's arm, catching him off guard and pulling him toward the end of the room. Cell 8 housed one person.

  "You can't put me in there with him. I've seen what these things can do. He will eat me," Dawson said.

  "Relax. He isn't infected…yet," Ferris said.

  "Yet?"

  "Yes, yet, Alan. That is one of my finest soldiers. Unfortunately, he made too many mistakes. I'm holding out faith that he will make a better soldier when diseased," Ashe said.

  "You're intentionally infecting people?" Dawson asked.

  "Not until I have the cure, but then, yes," Ashe opened his arms wide and spun around. "I'm creating my army, Alan."

  "You cannot control the infected."

  "With a cure, I can."

  "What makes you think people will take orders from you once they are cured?"

  "They'll owe me their lives for saving them. But maybe we have different definitions of the cure. You see, the virus only wants to survive. Judas treats the infected as a suit of armor. Unfortunately, human anatomy doesn't cooperate with Judas's plan for survival. The body begins to break down. Flesh deteriorates. Judas seeks keratin from the flesh of a living human to keep the host from rotting. I need a way to manage the disease. You keep a dog well fed, and he'll never bite the hand that feeds," Ashe said.

  "It's never going to work," Dawson said.

  "Oh ye of little faith. How about this, Alan, I'll give you a front row seat to the next evolution of mankind. Get in the cell," Ashe said.

  Dawson jerked his arm to free himself from Ferris' grasp. Ferris dug his shoulder into Dawson, pressing him against one of the cells. A group of infected swarmed, slapping and biting at the glass, trying to get at Dawson.

  "If you don't cooperate, I'll have Theo throw you in with those lunatics."

  Dawson relaxed. Ferris took hold of Dawson's arm again and led him to the last cell. It was peaceful compared to the others. One man sat on a bench at the back of the cell. Dawson recognized him as the soldier Ashe banished for incompetence.

  Ferris placed his thumb against a fingerprint reader. The cell door opened. He shoved Dawson in and pressed his thumb against the reader again to shut the door.

  Dawson stumbled, landing at the feet of the soldier. He sprang to his knees, fell backwards, and shimmied away on his butt.

  "Don't worry. I don't bite."

  Dawson used the wall to pull himself to his feet.

  "I'm not sick. I'm here because I made the mistake of following a psychopath."

  "Same here," Dawson said.

  "Ken Barber."

  "Alan Dawson. What did you do to get thrown down here?"

  "My team lost Nick Preston. How about you?"

  "I found Nick Preston," Dawson said.

  "Well, that's a no-win situation for us." Barber laughed. "Sorry, I have a horrible habit of laughing at bad situations."

  "Have you tried to find a way out yet?" Dawson asked.

  "Each cell is sealed tight. Oxygen is pumped in through that vent." Barber pointed to the ceiling. "Unless you have the power to shrink yourself, you're not getting through there."

  Dawson sat on a bench opposite Barber. He eyed the other cells. The infected weren't swarming like angry bees any longer. They stood still. Their attention was fixed on Dawson and Barber.

  "Is this what they do?" Dawson said.

  "All the freaking time," Barber said. "It creeped me out at first, but now I just imagine my Chihuahua staring at me while I eat dinner. It lessens the stress of having a horde of dead people salivating over you."

  "They have to feed you or at the very least give you water," Dawson said.

  "Three guards come in every six hours with food and water. They watch me eat and drink before taking me to the bathroom, which is over there." Barber pointed to a small door across the room. "I know what you're thinking, but you can't overpower them. Next time, it will probably be more now that you're here."

  Dawson stood up and walked to the front of the cell. The infected from every cell moved closer, pressing against the glass.

  "Face it, man. We are stuck in here."

  Dawson eyed Barber. "And you're OK with that?"

  "Look around. If it's not worse than this outside, it will be soon. Damn right, I am. This is the safest place to be right now," Barber said.

  "Well, I'm not." Dawson took his iPhone from his jacket pocket.

  "They let you keep that?"

  Dawson dialed Agent Walker. They let me keep my phone, he thought. Dawson pressed the END button before the call rang.

  Twenty-Four

  "It feels like we've been trapped in this room for days. Is it dark yet?" Emily asked.

  "Dawson should have been back by now," Nick said, checking the time on his phone. "It's after eight."

  Q walked to the door, opened it, and surveyed the hallway. Empty. Dawson was true to his word. They weren't prisoners, but deep down they knew this was the safest place for them.

  "Tell Walker I need another Coke," Daria said.

  Q stepped out of the room. It wasn't the first time. The bathroom was down the hall. They had free rein of the floor, but guards stood at both stairwells to make sure they didn't venture too far. The guards were gone.

  "Hey, did you hear me?" Daria asked, peeking out the door. "Where's our bodyguards?"

  "I don't know. Get back in the room," Q said. He moved toward the door leading to the stairs. A metal clanging from behind caused Q to freeze.

  "Warren, get back here," Agent Walker said, stepping out of the door near the opposite stairs.

  "Hey, can I get another Coke?" Daria asked.

 
Agent Walker pushed her into the room and motioned for Q.

  "You don't have to get violent. You could have just said no," Daria said.

  "There's been a change of plans," Agent Walker said. "You're going to have to leave. It's not safe here for you."

  "Where's Dawson?" Q asked.

  "Take the east stairs. It leads to a back entrance. Your vehicle is no longer safe." Agent Walker handed a set of keys to Nick. "These go to the SUV in the first parking space. Get out of Charlotte as fast as you can."

  "Sir, they are he…" Gunshots silenced the voice coming through Agent Walker's radio.

  Agent Walker grabbed Nick and pushed him into the hall. Emily, Marshall, and Daria followed. Q didn't move.

  "Where's Dawson?" Q asked.

  "He's been compromised. They know you're here. You have to leave now," Agent Walker said.

  "Come on, Q," Nick said.

  The door leading to the west stairs swung open. Three men in black fatigues piled into the hall.

  "Go," Agent Walker said.

  Agent Walker pulled his revolver from its holster and fired at the men. One dropped to his knees. The other two returned fire. A bullet lodged into the wall inches from Q. He stumbled. Marshall grabbed his forearm to steady him.

  Agent Walker fired again. A second man in fatigues dropped. A bullet caught Agent Walker in the chest.

  "We have to help him," Q said, trying to tug free from Marshall.

  "It's too late," Marshall said.

  Agent Walker fired again. The third man dropped. Walker fell to his knees. He slumped forward, smashing his face onto the concrete floor.

  Nick kicked the door opened and pressed the key fob repeatedly. The lights flashed on a black SUV followed by three chirps.

  "Get in," Nick said.

  Daria dove into the back, followed by Emily and Marshall. Q stood in the doorway.

  "Q, we have to go," Nick said. "Walker is dead."

  Screams echoed off the building, jarring Q from thought. He ran to the SUV.

  "Well, it's safe to say Ashe knows where we are now," Marshall said.

  Nick cranked the SUV, moved the gearshift to REVERSE. He hit the gas. A thud hit the back of the SUV.

  "What the hell was that?" Emily asked.

  Daria crawled over the seat and looked out the window. The body of a woman lay face down next to the SUV. She squirmed to get up.

  "You hit someone," Daria said. "She's still alive."

  Q opened the passenger door and placed a foot on the asphalt.

  "Shit. She's infected," Daria said.

  Nick grabbed Q's shoulder, pulling him back into the SUV just as the woman lunged for Q's foot. He slammed the passenger door, catching the top of her head and crushing it.

  Nick slammed the gearshift to DRIVE. In the rearview mirror, he watched the woman's body tumble and crash into another car. She stayed down this time.

  "Watch out," Q said, grabbing the steering wheel, jerking the SUV to the right, narrowly avoiding a group of people crossing the street.

  Beams from the headlights flashed on their faces. All had cloudy white eyes. All were infected. They headed for the SUV. Nick turned the wheel toward the group and floored the gas. Bodies flew over the hood of the car. One landed on the roof with a thump.

  Daria wiped condensation from the window. The infected struggled to their feet and started toward the SUV. "Go. They are coming," she said.

  "We have to stop them," Q said. "If we don't, they are going to kill more people."

  Nick moved the gearshift to REVERSE. Q grabbed Nick's wrist and shook his head.

  "We have to pierce the brain," Q said. "Does anyone have anything sharp?"

  "I have a nail file," Emily said.

  "We can't get that close," Q said.

  The infected were less than six feet from the SUV.

  "Fuck it," Nick said. "We're out of time." He slammed the gas, plowing into the group. A thud, and then a few bumps, Nick kept the pedal floored until the bodies lay in front of the SUV. Only one battled to his knees. Nick drove toward him, crushing the man's head with the right-side tires.

  "You pierce the brains. I'll smash the heads like pumpkins," Nick said.

  A bullet shattered the back glass of the SUV barely missing Daria. She fell to the floorboard. Marshall pushed Emily down and shielded both of them. Another bullet hit the back left door of the SUV.

  Nick sped out of the lot and weaved through the narrow streets of Uptown. He drove the wrong way on a one-way street, hoping to throw anyone who might be following them off the trail. It didn't work.

  A black SUV that mirrored the one they were in appeared in the rearview mirror.

  "We've got company," Nick said.

  "Lose them," Q said.

  "I'm trying."

  Nick took a sharp right, followed by a left into an alley. The passenger side of the SUV lost its mirror when it scraped the side of a building. The darkness of the alleyway was blinding. Nick drove a straight path toward a faint light.

  "Did I lose them?" Nick asked.

  "Hard to tell without a mirror," Q said.

  "Well, just sue me. I'm trying to save your life."

  The faint light grew brighter, and then blinding. Headlights pulled into the alley in front of Nick. "Shit." He hit the brakes and jerked the SUV into reverse. Light broke through the darkness from behind. Another vehicle.

  "We're trapped," Nick said.

  A spotlight crashed through the windshield, blinding Nick and Q. Two bullets were fired, each flattening the front tires of the SUV.

  "Step out of the vehicle with your hands above your head." The words echoed through a megaphone. Q tried to adjust his sight. The circles from the bright light only spun faster.

  "This is the last time I am asking you, step out of the vehicle."

  "What do we do, Q?" Nick asked.

  "Pray for a miracle," Q said, opening the door. He stepped into the light with his hands above his head. "I'm Q Warren. The driver is Nick Preston. We are the ones Ashe wants. Let the others go."

  "Step to the front of the vehicle. Everyone else out of the damn vehicle now."

  Nick stood beside Q. Marshall and Emily stood by Nick. Daria moved beside Q.

  "We're all accounted for. Please let the others go," Q said.

  "Sorry, can't do. I have orders to bring you all in."

  "There's sick people in the streets trying to murder people. Protecting citizens should be your orders," Q said.

  "I'm well aware of the situation."

  Static crackled over a radio attached to the soldier's vest.

  "Sir…we're…under attack…"

  Gunfire followed the words. Flashes like fireflies lit the opposite end of the alley.

  "Get down," Q said, grabbing Daria and pulling her close.

  Shadows swayed through the headlight beams.

  "Fall back," the man with the megaphone said. He hopped into the SUV, which backed out of the alley, taking the light with it.

  "This is a pretty weird miracle," Nick said.

  Gunfire from the opposite end of the alley ceased, leaving an eerie silence to accompany the unusually cool summer night air.

  Q reached out. Darkness made it impossible for him to see his hand.

  "Everyone stay close. We just need to make it to the street," Q said, taking Daria’s hand.

  The group walked slowly. The entrance to the alley was only thirty or so feet away, but at that pace, it felt like miles.

  "Hey, stop stepping on my foot," Daria said.

  "I didn't step on you," Q said.

  The strong stench of rotting meat rushed into Q's mouth. He gagged. Daria screamed. Something jerked her free from Q's grasp. He reached into the darkness for Daria. She screamed again and grabbed Q's hand. He pulled her to him, bringing him face-to-face with the infected man who had a hold on Daria. Q put a forearm in the man's throat and shoved him back against a wall. "Run," he told Daria. Q drove his elbow deeper until the man's hyoid bone snapped. The
man gasped, giving Q the nauseating feeling of just murdering someone. He's already dead. Already dead, Q thought. What now? Q lifted his elbow underneath the man's chin. He used his free hand to find the side of the man's head and push away. It gave Q enough time to run. He stumbled over his own foot as he turned, but made it to the end of the alley where the others were waiting.

  "Shit," Nick said. "I should have taken up Crossfit instead of playing Mass Effect for the third time. You OK?"

  Q placed his hands on his knees and nodded. "Daria?"

  "I'm cool," Daria said.

  "Hide," Emily said, pulling Marshall behind a dumpster.

  Daria crouched behind a craft beer sign. Nick and Q backed against a wall, but the group of infected spotted them.

  "I think we are out of miracles," Nick said.

  "This is different. They are organized," Q said.

  Katie Andrews and Felicia Randall stood at the front of the group, eying Nick and Q. The virus that began as a debilitating horror had evolved into total possession. It controlled every movement, every thought. Those recently infected were anxious. They were hungry. They needed to feed. Katie and Felicia acted as mentors, calming the horde through telepathy. Judas had evolved. The virus understood that to survive, it needed to spread. Strength in numbers. The infected were no match for the living. They were slow, and the living had weapons to exterminate them in mass numbers. In its evolution, Judas learned to turn the symptoms of the infection into slavery. Human flesh was used as a reward. The virus understood it needed a host so it couldn't starve the infected, but it only allowed feeding when there was safety. There was an infestation period of around twelve hours for Judas to gain complete control. When first introduced in the town of Black Dog, the infestation period was upwards of a week. Odds of survival were poor for Judas. It needed to adapt, and it did.

  "They're just watching us like a pack of wolves," Nick said.

  "They're thinking," Q said.

  "How is that possible?" Nick asked.

  "It's becoming more virulent," Q said.

  The infected man from the alley crept up behind Q.

  "Look out," Daria said.

  The man stopped and stood beside Q. He started at Q's Nikes and sized him up. His head swiveled like a bobble head.