Oh, no…
"She's been bit," Jacob growled, instantly alert. " And scratched."
The war veteran took a deep breath in an attempt regain his composure. He had almost lost her
when she nearly drowned, but now she had been bitten by an infected man. And she was displaying
some very worrying symptoms…
"She's going to be okay…" Markus murmured, although he certainly did not believe his own words.
"Keep an eye on her," Corvo said, bringing the first-aid pack toward the table.
The younger man nodded unhappily. Why was he always being put on 'Watch Friends In Case They
Turn and Shoot Them If They Do' duty?
"Samantha, I'm going to patch up you up. You hang in there, kid."
Everything that was being said to her was lost in the haze, drowned out by a shrill ringing in her
ears.
She could not believe it. After how far they had come, after everything they had been through
together, it was going to end like this?
Wel … it could be worse… I could have been ripped apart by that Smoker. At least now I'll die
surrounded by friends…
Not die… Driven mad by the Infection, only to be shot by the people who used to be my friends a
few seconds later…
Those were her last thoughts before she lost consciousness.
Chapter 52
Bright lights…
An echoing voice…
Searing pain.
"…Samantha…? …Samantha…"
The girl in question raised a hand to her head, wincing when she jostled a bump on her forehead,
above her left eyebrow. The reflex action sent a fresh wave of pain and nausea rushing through her,
but luckily she managed to hold onto what was left of her meagre dinner.
"Whoa, easy there, girl," Markus said in a concerned voice, coming over to kneel down beside her.
"You took a nasty fal earlier."
It was then that Samantha realised she was lying on the floor, a measly collapsed cardboard box as
her mattress. The group's first-aid kit lay open near her, and she could feel bandages on her left
cheek and her shoulder, near the base of her neck. The latter wound hurt the most – a dull throbbing
sensation radiated out from it, interspersed with sharp jabs of pain if she tried to move too much.
"What happened?" she final y asked, giving up and lying back down on her 'bed'. "Where are Jacob and Corvo?" Her voice was still thick and slurred, and her tongue felt dry, like a cotton wad in her
mouth.
"It's okay," the young man replied soothingly, apparently having not learned that patronisation did not make for good bedside manner. "They want off to make a quick sweep for supplies while you were
unconscious. You've been out for over an hour."
He handed her a water bottle, which she took several greedy gulps from, quenching her parched
and dry throat. She immediately started to feel less nauseous and disoriented.
"You seemed to stabilise a few minutes after you passed out, which we took as a good sign," Markus
continued, almost speaking more to himself than to her. As if he was in a debate with himself. The
gun in his hand, ready to be fired at a moment's notice, did not escape Samantha's attention. "All
that worrying stuff – the vomiting, light sensitivity, loss of hearing – Corvo reckons it was caused by a
mixture of concussion and exposure to the smoke."
The former col ege girl nodded slowly, resisting the urge to feel the bump on her head again.
"Hel , I felt a bit sick after all that Smoker gas we inhaled," her friend said, shooting her a wary smile.
"If you were gonna turn, you probably would have done so by now, back when al that freaky shit
was happening to you while you were on the table."
"So… what? You guys think I'm immune? Like the rest of you?" The cautious relief which had
flooded through her when she had found out that Corvo and Jacob were immune to the Green Flu
almost paled in comparison to the idea that she could be too. That she would not turn into a
maddened, rabies-bearing banshee, driven by a primal instinct to feed and kil .
That she would not be responsible for hurting someone when she was not in her right mind.
Markus seemed equal y pleased. "Well, yeah. Jacob warned me to keep an eye on you while they
were out, but I've got a good feelin' about this. Your rationality seems to be intact."
It was then that the door crashed open, startling both of them and causing Markus to raise his pistol.
However, it was Jacob who bounded through the door, Corvo bringing up the rear.
"Damn it, Jacob, can't you open the door like a normal goddamn person?" the old man growled. His
eyes widened when he saw the youngest member of the group awake. "Samantha! How are you
feeling?"
"Uh, fine, I guess," she mumbled. "A sore neck, but that's about it."
"You're lucky that's al you have," Jacob grunted. "That thing was just about to tear your throat out."
Was that worry in his expression?
"Do you still feel like... yourself?" Corvo asked hesitantly.
When Samantha nodded gingerly, the icy weights of worry around his heart evaporated, to be
replaced by intense relief. His heavy emotional burdens had blown up tenfold when the girl had been
lying there, choking and vomiting, and the prospect of having to put a bullet through her head had
frightened him more than facing down a horde of Infected a mile wide.
But she was okay – for the moment, at least. That was what mattered.
It was Markus who voiced what was on everyone's minds. "So I'm thinking, either we're immune from al this, or we're gettin' real lucky."
"Four immunes in the same room," the grizzled war veteran muttered, sitting down on the table.
"What're the odds?"
"How does that work, though?" Samantha asked as she sat up, wincing at a stab of pain that shot
through her neck. "I mean, how are we immune? We've seen a grand total of, what, seven other
people since Fairfield. Two of them definitely weren't immune..." Recol ections of the looks of primal
rage and animalistic fury in the eyes of Joe and the doomed helicopter pilot flashed through her
mind. "Why have we survived, when so many others have been infected?"
"Maybe it's a reminder that there's more to life than gettin' the next pay-check, being promoted, and
pleasin' a bunch of corporate douchebags," Franics grumbled, folding his arms across his chest. "I
hate corporate douchebags."
"I'd think of it more as natural selection," Corvo said, a grim expression on his face. "Back in Jameson Hospital, Roger mentioned that everyone reacted differently to the virus. We're the lucky
ones." Their predicament – holed up in a crumbling building, sporting various injuries, in a city that
had a date with destruction in a little over nine hours – came back to slap him in the face. "Then
again, maybe not."
5 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE
Four and a half hours after Samantha woke up, the group was gearing up to continue their journey.
Corvo had insisted on the "downtime" to make sure that she was okay, despite her reassurance.
Fortunately, with a handful of pain pil s from the health pack, and sleeping as wel as she could on
her makeshift mattress, the throbbing in her neck felt considerably better.
"The airport's not too far off from here," the war veteran said, tossing the medical pack over to
Markus and lifting his assault rifle, one of his last cigarettes hanging out of his mouth. "We keep
quiet, don't stir up a horde, and hopefully things w
ill go over a bit smoother than they have been ever
since we set foot in this godforsaken town."
As Samantha turned to grab her hunting rifle, she found the old man picking it up and handing it over
to her, a solemn expression on her face. "Everything okay, Corvo?" she asked sheepishly, their
argument a few hours ago stil in the back of her mind.
"Yeah..." he replied, handing the gun over to her.
"What's wrong?" she pressed.
After a moment, he lifted his gaze to meet hers. "That's the second time you've nearly been kil ed on
my watch, and in two days, no less. I just want you to know that I ain't gonna let anything like that
happen again."
"You don't have to make a promise like that. It'll be impossible to keep, anyway."
"Wel I'll keep it or die trying!"
Samantha was startled by the old man's outburst, and she looked around the room to see the others staring in their direction.
"Uh, we'll go make sure the hal way outside is clear," Markus said in an unsure tone. He promptly left the storeroom, Jacob on his heels.
As soon as the door closed, the former col ege student turned to him. "Corvo, what the hel ?"
"I meant what I said," he replied crisply, pul ing the cigarette out of his mouth and crushing it on the table. "You three are my responsibility." He stood, ready to leave this conversation behind him, but the young woman planted herself firmly in his way, the look in her eyes demanding to know what
was on his mind. The veteran chuckled darkly at the irony of their positions being reversed a mere
six hours later. "What do you want from me?" he snapped.
Samantha was taken aback by his rough tone, but hesitantly pressed on. "You've shut yourself
behind a wal , and I need to know that you're stil ..."
"Stil what?"
"...okay."
Corvo's expression softened at her uncertain tone, and he sighed lightly, gesturing around. "Before
al this happened – before the shit hit the fan – I was a hollow shel of the man I used to be. Two
tours in Vietnam, a handful of medals and a knee ful of shrapnel are what I had to show for the
service I did for this country."
Samantha remained quiet, surprised that he was opening up to her. She had been able to piece bits
and pieces of his personality together, but knew almost nothing of his past life.
"I spent decades drifting between dead-end jobs and shithole apartments," he continued, bitterness
seeping into his tone. "But this... epidemic has given me a purpose again: to get you three to safety."
He was taken aback when Samantha threw her arms around him in a surprisingly strong hug. "Of al
the people I got stuck with... I'm glad one of them is you," she said softly.
The old man returned the hug, rather awkwardly at first. "You know," he said hesitantly, "I've come to care for you like a daughter."
"I know, Corvo." She had known for quite a while that she and Corvo had, in many ways, a father-
daughter relationship, and she was okay with it. Ever since those terrible events at the outbreak of
the Infection, she never would have expected to find comfort, trust and companionship in a hardened
man like Corvo.
But find them she had.
"Aw, man, this is bul shit!" came a gruff voice from the doorway. "How come the old timer's gettin' all the play?"
"Shut up, Jacob," the oldest and youngest members of the team shot back at the same time.
Chapter 53
4 HOURS UNTIL FAILSAFE
The sky above Metro International Airport was stained a blood red and was choked with thick, dark
smoke. Samantha found the view to be extremely ominous as she and her team made their way
through the substation, surrounded by the dark outlines of power equipment, and to the streets on
the other side.
She held her pistol down by her side, the metal cold in her hands. She did her best not to crane her
neck instinctively, as such an action would rudely remind of her of the rather painful wound at the
base of her neck. Jacob brandished his Beretta, being low on ammunition for his submachine gun.
The nightmarish journey through Newburg had taken its toll on all of them, but now they were
hopefully out of this hel . All they had to do was clear a path to the runway and link up with Captain
Wil iams and his soldiers. Unfortunately, the further they made their way through the streets toward
the airport, the scene did not spel a good fate for the defenders.
Samantha led the way forward into a familiar street , at the end of which she could see the outline of
the main terminal of the airport. As she made her way forward, she came across a steadily
increasing amount of grisly and broken remains of soldiers. Sandbags and M2 machine-gun
emplacements stood forgotten at various positions in the street.
"Fuck me," Jacob breathed. "All this firepower and the army stil got swarmed? Bunch of useless dicks."
"You know, I've just about had enough of your insults toward the armed forces," the Vietnam War
veteran shot over his shoulder in a dangerous tone, their argument from before stil in the back of his
mind. "They're riskin' their necks to get people out and save ingrates like you."
The biker simply frowned, choosing not to retaliate to the scolding or worthless patriotism.
The team came across an increasing number of Infected the closer they came to their destination,
the fal en humans obviously drawn in toward the standoff. The tang of gunpowder and blood hung in
the air.
As a headshot from Jacob' Beretta rang, a nearby group of ten snarling Common Infected, startled
by the noise, ran at him, only to be cut down by a withering burst from Corvo's M4 carbine and
Markus' Glock. The group crouched down by an overturned car and waited tensely for retaliation, but
none of the menacing figures further up the road appeared to have taken notice of the commotion.
"This just ain't gonna work," Corvo muttered angrily. They were so close, but if they continued as
they were doing, the Infected would surely overwhelm and kil them. "We need a new plan. Any
ideas?"
Samantha racked her brains, trying to remember everything she could about the airport when she
was younger. "There's a car-park on the left side of this street. On the top level is a sky-bridge we
could use to get into the airport from there."
"Good thinking," he nodded in approval. "Let's go."
With that, the four survivors slowly made their way down the ruined street with renewed purpose.
They stepped careful y past mangled cars, corpses and army barricades, staying close to the low-
rise buildings on the left side of the road. The closer they came to the airport, the more the air
seemed to be choked with thick smoke. The heavy pit in Samantha's stomach grew larger the more
they went on. She did not have a good feeling about this.
Presently, she came across the concrete facade of the building which she remembered to be the
multistorey car-park. "Guys! Through here!" she whispered.
The young woman led the way up the ramp to the second level, past the shadowy forms of cars, the
darkness growing deeper and more absolute the further they made their way into the structure. She
was almost sad to leave behind the fiery orange twilight of the desolate streets. She slowly put one
foot in front of the other, and was swal owed up by the darkness.
The four survivors walked forward, their shallow breaths the only sounds to be heard. Corvo brought
up the rear, urging them silently onward.
They were so damn close to salvation, and he refused to let
anything stop them now.
Needless to say, he was stunned when Jacob suddenly whirled and turned his gun on him. Had he
lost his goddamn mind? "What the hel – "
"GET DOWN!" the biker roared, his tone leaving no room for argument.
The war veteran complied and hit the deck, feeling the cement skin his palms. The gunshots above
his head were deafening. Looking over his shoulder, his eyes widened as he saw a Leaper in mid-
flight come crashing down as bullets from Jacob' pistol slammed into its body.
Needless to say, everyone was shaken by the encounter. Horrible snarls echoed off the concrete
and muzzle-flashes lit up the area as several dark figures ran at them from shadowy corners of the
room. Gunpowder, sweat and blood fil ed the air, but the engagement was over quickly.
Corvo reloaded his rifle and as sweat beaded down his brow. They were close to rescue, but that
only meant that things were going to get harder. He noticed Samantha bending over slightly, a hand
over her chest and breathing heavily. "You alright, kid?"
It took a few moments for her to answer. "Yeah, just feeling a bit light-headed... and short of breath."
"Don't forget that Smoker almost kil ed you not so long ago. And you stil have a concussion." He slung the M4 over his shoulder, came over to the girl's side and put one of her arms around his
shoulder as he helped her to her feet. Markus and Jacob took their places at their sides, covering
them with their respective Glock and Beretta.
Samantha, helped along with Corvo's support, hobbled toward the next ramp and they made their
way up to the top.
They stopped when they came across another darkened room, this one much larger.
"You've gotta be shittin' me," the old man muttered.
"Someone give me a gun," Jacob whispered. He holstered his pistol as Corvo un-slung his assault rifle with one arm and handed it over to him.
"Now or never," Markus murmured quietly. He heard the stirring, slight shifting of feet and rustle of clothing al around them, but his flashlight could not penetrate the absolute darkness of the room to
find the sources.
Samantha took a deep breath and led the way across the sea of inky blackness. The four survivors
Damned Are We Page 32