by Bella Street
“I don't know. I can only guess he wants to take over the compound. If he can't do it strictly militarily, he could try causing panic and chaos with zombies.”
“But it doesn't make sense!” Seffy twisted around for another look. They stood on some kind of metal decking jutting out over a deep industrial area made of stained concrete and metal platforms. If she squinted she could make out a guy who resembled Popov shoving another woman into a huge cage. Several other people were in there, crouched on the ground. Some were crying. She turned back to Trent. “We need to do something!”
“I alerted Fenn as soon as I found out, before I stopped at your room. He's supposedly putting together a group of men. I can only hope he's not a part of this.”
“There's no way he would be,” she whispered. Seffy looked at the demonic scene again, unable to tear her eyes away. “Why did you bring me here?”
“You said you wanted answers.”
Seffy remembered telling Gareth that, not Trent.
“I started snooping around and noticed at certain times of the night, residents would head to the basement. I followed and found this. All those men down there are armed to the teeth so I decided to get help first.”
She grabbed the front of his jacket in a white-knuckled grip. “I want to leave, Trent.”
“Look way over to the right, past those thugs.”
Seffy leaned forward from the shadow into the light, then pressed her hand to her mouth. Malone was being held to the side, handcuffed to a metal pipe and very much not a zombie. He was straining forward, hurling curses at Popov, who stabbed a thrashing man in the neck with a needle.
“We have to save him,” she whispered, her voice rough. “All of them!” Seffy stepped back into the shadows, deciding she'd seen enough of the savagery below. She could only assume those poor people in the cages would eventually turn and be released. No wonder the number of those creatures had increased as they neared the compound.
Trent cocked his ear, then pulled her to the side. “They're here. Scoot over.”
Seffy squeezed over as far as she could into a corner near the doorway. A concrete wall pressed her one side and Trent the other. She could hear footsteps coming closer. How would they handle this? She cringed at the notion of all those innocent people being killed for some bizarre plot. What was it about remote, mountainous places that made some people go crazy? Wasn't a refuge supposed to induce peace and tranquility?
Men suddenly poured onto the platform leading down to the operation. Seffy peeked around Trent and saw they were armed with large rifles, their heavy boots clattering on the metal deck. She stifled a gasp when she saw Gareth come through the door with a rifle and take position. He scanned the area, then looked over to where she was huddled next to Trent. His tense expression became white hot with fury when he saw who she was with.
A shot was fired. Seffy swung around to see Popov go down. In the next moment, more shots were fired from the platform and one by one the thugs dropped their victims and fell to the floor. Once free, those who were about to be infected ran out some back way she couldn't see from where she stood. When it was clear, Fenn's men ran down the steps, their rifles at the ready. As Gareth passed, he paused long enough to get in Trent's face.
“If anything happens to her, I'll kill you myself.”
Then he was gone. Trent looked at her, his face rigid, his eyes burning with something she couldn't identify. Fenn walked through the door, saw Trent, and handed him an extra rifle. He saw her next, his eyes widening with shock.
“Stay here and don't move,” Trent hissed in her ear. He followed Fenn.
Seffy hugged the wall and watched the men funnel down the stairs and through the area where Popov had been. Shouted orders combined with the wailing of the victims made it hard to tell what was going on. The people in the cages and Malone were ignored as the men went further afield, chasing others she couldn't see. Seffy couldn't believe this place was as big and as deep as it appeared to be.
She slid down the wall and wondered what to do. Should she go let Lani know so she could be with Malone? No, Gareth would be upset if another one of them was here. She still wasn't sure why Trent had wanted her here in the first place.
After several minutes, Seffy realized she could no longer hear the armed men—just the weeping and hollering of those in the cages. With hesitant movements, she stood up and walked into the light for a better look. She saw Malone heaving against his bonds, his actions frantic and desperate.
She took a few more steps, as far as she dared, hoping to see where Fenn's men went. The bodies of Popov and three of the thugs littered the ground. She glanced at the people in the cages. She couldn't begin to imagine their terror. Even with help on the scene, there was a virus wreaking havoc on their bodies, killing them from the inside out.
“Blondie!”
Seffy jumped at the sound of Malone's gravelly voice. She looked across the expanse and saw him staring up at her in wonder. “I can't believe it's you!”
At his voice, the caged people began yelling for help.
“Are you okay?” she called over the noise, gripping the railing and peering down at him.
“I'll be better when I'm free. Come down here and help me out!”
She shook her head like he was crazy. “I don't have any way to free you. I don't have a key or hacksaw or whatever it is you need!”
“Please let us out!” Arms of the newly infected reached through the bars toward her.
“Help! Oh, please someone help!”
“We need a doctor! Hurry!”
“What did they do to us?”
Seffy was torn. She knew the armed compound men had good reason to leave everyone where they were until the more serious situation could be handled, but the cries of the victims tore at her heart. She also knew she couldn't release them—they would become a risk—but maybe...maybe she could help Malone.
She took a step down the stairs, indecision crowding her instinct to hide. “Were you infected, Malone?”
“No!” he yelled, struggling to be heard over the others. “Popov wasn't going to allow me to get an injection like the others. He planned to feed me to the ones he'd turned because I survived in the desert!”
Seffy took another step, her heart pounding hard. “How did you get here? I thought he left you for dead!”
“C'mon, Princess, I'll tell you all about it over tea when I'm free!”
Frowning, yet somewhat reassured by his rudeness, she took several more steps down the stairs. Seffy avoided looking at the people in the cage. It was too heart-wrenching. When she descended to the main floor, she gulped.
“The handcuff keys are on Popov. Get them and get me out of here!”
Seffy approached the body. She couldn't bring herself to look at Popov in the face as he was sprawled out on his back, but she noticed a bloody wound seeping across the waistline of his uniform, pooling onto the filthy concrete floor. Then she saw a set of keys spilling from his pocket...next to a holstered gun.
“Hurry up!”
With trembling hands, she reached down and first slid the gun from the holster, awkwardly transferring it into her other hand. Then she reached for the keys.
Popov's hand twitched. She jerked away. “God, Malone, he's still alive!”
“No, he's not. He was bitten on the outside. That's why he risked coming in here—to finish off the last batch of victims before he died.”
Seffy turned her attention to Popov and shrieked when she saw him looking at her with unadulterated spite.
“You have the gun. Shoot him and then give me the keys!”
“What? I can't!”
“Dammit, Seffy, shoot him! Apparently Fenn's men just wounded him. He's dead either way.”
She looked at the gun in her hand and angled it at Popov. He began to struggle and thrash his arms around. She pointed the gun, but it jumped around in her field of vision. She grabbed the butt of it with her other hand to steady it. Popov was moving, the v
ictims were screaming, and Malone was yelling at her to shoot. Seffy began to squeeze the trigger, struggling to overcome a wave of faintness.
She heard voices, different from the cacophony nearby. Fenn's men were coming back.
“Seffy, now! He's gonna grab you!”
She glanced down and saw Popov swinging at her leg. Gritting her teeth, she aimed, and pulled the trigger all the way back. His hand smacked against her leg. The gun fired. Seffy felt a buzzing in her ears as she watched the top of Popov's head disintegrate.
“Seffy!”
She stared at the spray of blood and brains staining the concrete. Nausea boiled up within her, making her retch.
“Seffy! Oh my God, don't move!”
Realizing she wasn't hearing Malone's voice, she looked up. Gareth stood stock still about ten feet away, his face white, his eyes wild. Fenn, Trent and the others gathered around him and stopped, looking stunned.
She dropped the gun, ashamed to be caught with it. “I just was going to get the keys.” Her voice sounded a long way off. She squinted at Gareth. It was like looking through a telescope from the wrong end. “Did you get all the bad guys? Is it over?”
He stared at her in horror, which didn't make any sense. “Just hold still, Sef.”
Seffy didn't understand why they were all just standing there. Then she noticed their hands were up in front of them. Their guns were gone.
“So you didn't get them all?” She searched their faces for an inkling of what was going on, and realized they were being held at gunpoint by a different group of men behind them.
“Put the girl in the cage with the others.”
She blinked and looked at the man who spoke, then at the the disco dancers still howling behind bars. “What? Why? Is it because I shot Popov?”
“No way,” Fenn ground out. “Leave her out of it.”
One of the men whipped the stock of the gun against Fenn's head. The compound leader crumpled to the ground like a rag doll.
Seffy widened her eyes as blood began to flow down his head. Fresh nausea assaulted her, forcing bile into her throat.
“You! Put her in the cage!”
Another man shoved the barrel of his rifle into Gareth's ribs, pushing him forward.
Gareth stumbled toward her, then spoke in a low voice. “It's going to be okay. You've already beat it once.”
Confusion colored her thinking, especially when she saw moisture glinting in his eyes. “What's going on?” she whispered.
“Do it now!”
Gareth turned, blocking her. “That's not going to happen.”
A man raised his rifle and fired. Gareth jerked forward. Seffy lost her footing and fell backwards, propelled by his body. Pain shot through her bones as she clattered onto the cement floor under his weight. Gasping for breath and choking on fear, she struggled to a sitting position. Gareth's head lolled in her lap. Blood began to spread on the fabric of his shirt over his shoulder.
Oh, God, Gareth. Please don't die. She tried to feel for a pulse, but couldn't.
Seffy looked up at the group, hyperventilating. “What have you done?”
The shooter strode up to her, finger twitching on the trigger, a hateful shine in his eyes.
“You have worse problems right now.” Using the barrel of his gun, he pointed to her leg where it stuck out from under Gareth's unconscious form.
Seffy looked down and saw something hanging from the side of her pants, just above her ankle. She stared at it in disbelief, then remembered Popov hitting her with his hand. Only...only he must've still had the needle. A hypodermic needle filled with the virus.
A buzzing sounded in her ears as her surroundings grew dim.
Addison was right. I am a freaking zombie.
Check the next page for a sneak peek of The X Factor, Book Two of Apocalypse Babes
iRobotronic, Book Three of Apocalypse Babes, now also available
Bella Street's other titles:
Kiss Me, I'm Irish
Visit me at Bellastreetwrites.com and ApocalypseBabes.com
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Thank you for reading!
Excerpt from The X Factor, Book Two of Apocalypse Babes
She bucked on the table and screamed until her voice ran out. Arching her back, she strained against the bonds holding down her wrists and feet. A raging fever made the sweat run off her body in rivulets, contrasting with the icy cold of the metal table against her exposed skin.
Her heart ricocheted out of control but she gritted her teeth and pulled harder, muscles straining and creaking. Gasping for breath, exhaustion draining her reserves, she marshaled the last of her strength and pulled.
Something popped. Her bones? Seffy noticed her arm was slack. Breathing hard, she yanked her arm and was shocked when it flung loose of the leather strap.
Free! Oh, I'm free!
She lurched to a sitting position, wincing against the bright light overhead. Hanks of hair hung in her eyes as she clawed at the other strap. It took her a frantic moment to figure out that it was a buckle. Once her arm was loose, she set to work on the straps around her feet, then slid to the floor, crouching and terrified. Shudders wracked her body from the effects of the fever.
She had to escape before she was discovered. But where to go? Struggling to her feet, she clutched the side of the bed for support. Her clumsy movements knocked over a small metal tray. Surgical instruments clattered to the floor. She looked and saw two ice picks and a rubber mallet lying on the gleaming tiles. Her eye widened at some disconnected memory.
Convulsions seized her, but she stumbled out the door and fled down the hallway. She ran like the wind, her determination to survive giving her super speed. Through the twists and turns of the compound she flew. Orderlies in white watched her run past, unable to stop her. People yelled and pointed in her direction. Suddenly she came to a painted cement block wall—a dead end. She slid to a stop, her heart racing like a hummingbird's.
A spasm in her stomach made her double-over and grab her middle. God, I'm hungry. Where's that damn cafeteria? A rising murmur of noise caught her attention. She twisted to her right and saw the cafeteria stretching over a vast area. Plump lunch ladies in hair nets presided over giant pots of soup next to shelves full of sandwiches, pie, and fruit. Hundreds of people teemed at tables with trays of food, slurping, smacking, talking with their mouths full.
Seffy ran into the crowd, threading her way around tables, pushing past compound residents. Startled gasps followed her progress.
A woman clutched at her sleeve, but she flung her away.
“Hey, lady, the food is that way!”
Seffy ignored a man jerking his thumb toward the kitchen. Shoving people to the side with her furious strength, she dislodged food trays and knocked chairs out from under diners. It was the smell that drove her. It came from the other end of the cafeteria.
Seffy crashed past the remaining diners in her way, tripping on chair legs, and sliding on spilled food. She burst through the edge of the crowd and stopped short. A little girl in a polka dot dress stood in the corner holding a lunch tray.
The smell. Oh God. Her mouth watered.
The girl saw her and her eyes widened in terror. The tray slipped from her fingers, the food splattering to the floor. She opened her mouth.
Seffy dove at her as the girl's horrified scream rent the air—