The Last Outbreak (Book 1): Awakening

by Jeff Olah

  The man who intimidated nearly every person he came into contact with answered on the first ring. “Yes Emma, why are you calling?”

  Not completely prepared, she had dialed the phone out of frustration and anxiety. “Mr. Goodwin, I just wanted you to know that I tried multiple times to—”

  “Listen Emma, I appreciate what you’ve done for this company, although with what’s happening out there today, well… things are going to change.”

  The confusion in her voice was evident. “Is this something we did?”

  Dead air.

  Emma paused for a beat and asked again. “Mr. Goodwin, is what’s happening out there related to Project Ares?”

  She could hear his breathing on the opposite end and waited. He asked someone to close his office door and for the first time she had the sense that he was losing his calm. “What I’ve created is going to change the world. And with anything of this magnitude, there is always a price to pay. Some sacrifices will always be required—”

  Interrupting, she said, “I don’t understand, we weren’t even scheduled to test for another month.”

  Again his tone intensified. “You need to realize that this project predates your tenure with this company by many years, and as such, you were only given the information required for you to do your job. Nothing more. What I would suggest is that you pull back on the accusatory line of questioning and settle in. The next few weeks could be very challenging.”

  “What are you saying, exactly?”

  “I’m not the person most people think I am. This has proven to be an asset in business, although the perception of who I am is simply an illusion. There is no friend, no enemy, and no employer. I’m just a man who decided to make the world a better place, no matter what the cost.”

  Emma swallowed hard. “I’m not sure what—”

  He was gone, the line dead before she had the chance to finish. Emma quickly redialed the number and after the ninth ring, the call disconnected. Glancing at the screen, her battery showed less than twenty percent. Setting the phone on the table, she moved back through the kitchen and into the study.

  Seated in front of her monitor, she tapped the enter key and woke the computer. Again in control of her terminal, she was greeted with a new desktop background. Having been replaced by the stock background image shipped with the unit, the black and yellow logo of BXF Technologies was now simply a memory.

  Without having to enter her username and password, she quickly navigated to the search window and typed in the name of the file she last worked on.

  No results.

  Back to the search function, she keyed in the name of the folder which contained her new hire documentation and the spreadsheets referencing her lab times for the prior ninety days.

  No results.

  Tossing the keyboard across the length of her desk, she stood. “Well, I guess that means no severance package.”

  Rubbing her temples and turning into the hall toward her bedroom, her cell phone rang for the third time in the last ten minutes. “Let me guess, Unknown Caller?”

  18

  The jacket sloshed from side to side as she moved between the trees. The ground covered in white powder seemed to be sliding under her in fast-forward as each step landed in the same distinct pattern, kicking up mud and snow as she carried on. Cora was running, but it felt more like she was simply falling forward, yet somehow still maintaining an upright position.

  Passing yet another tree, she hadn’t looked back to see her pursuers since turning and sprinting away. They were still there, that she knew. And they were close, close enough that their footsteps played like a bass drum against the inside of her ears.

  Griffin had joined the chase as well, and as she fought her way around another small outcropping of something resembling miniature Christmas trees, Cora lost her footing. She slid sideways across a small section of ice that formed near the base of a large tree, and into a shrub the size of a small car.

  With only her upper body exposed, and as the two repulsive men slowly progressed toward her, Cora rolled onto her stomach. Calculating the speed at which they limped forward and placing that against the time she needed to slide out from under the bush, stand, and get to the opening, the chances of her escaping the way she came in were zero.

  Rounding the entrance to the small cove she’d slid into, the bus driver limped in first. His jaws were biting into the air as he pushed off the tree, rebounded back, and slowly stumbled toward the large shrub.

  Pulling her knees up under her, Cora instinctively reached to her lower back and drew the weapon she’d been given. Steadying herself and quickly firing off two rounds, she blew apart the bus driver's right leg, just below the knee.

  From somewhere beyond her field of vision, Griffin appeared like a silent freight train gliding through the night. Leaping the small overturned tree to her left, Griffin lowered his shoulder and collided into both men, the bus driver shooting forward and into Cora.

  Pushed back into the underbrush, Cora fought to pull her arms free of the tangled mess the jacket had become in the broken branches. As she dug her heels into the loose earth, the bus driver lunged headfirst into the bush, but was caught twelve inches short of her chest. He again snapped at the air, as what looked like saliva, blood, and something a dirty shade of orange dripped from his mouth.

  Her head on a swivel, Cora looked right and then left and back to the right as the madman above her began breaking through the branches, one small limb at a time. She’d dropped the forty-five as she fell backward into the bush, and although she was unable to locate it, she felt it was close.

  Out past the bush, a grey streak rushed through from left to right, catching her attention. She watched as Griffin moved to his feet and fired off three shots into the abdomen of the second man giving them chase.

  Stepping back and quickly turning his focus to the bus driver, Griffin hadn’t noticed that the man he’d just shot began to push away from the ground.

  “Griffin, look out.”

  Cutting his attention back to the left, he eyed the mortally wounded man with curiosity. And as the man he’d known for less than forty-eight hours stood and took two steps forward, Griffin raised his weapon. “Joe,” he said, “I’m sorry.”

  Griffin placed the end of his weapon against the man’s forehead and squeezed the trigger once. As the back of the man’s head exploded into the white powdered backdrop, and before his body crumbled to the ground, Griffin turned and strode quickly to the bush.

  Still entangled in the mess of broken twigs and with the arms of the oversized jacket holding her in limbo, Cora screamed. As the deranged man’s face crept forward, she adjusted the tilt of her torso and with her arms locked, grabbed the sides of his shoulders, pressing upward.

  Struggling to keep his mouth away from her folded collar, Cora again planted her left foot and used the unbalanced leverage to drive her right knee squarely into his man parts. Solid contact—the strike much more violent than she’d thought possible from her awkward position, vibrated from her hip all the way down to her toes.

  Focusing on his milky white eyes as her leg drifted back down, the man above her didn’t blink. He didn’t flinch. He didn’t even appear to acknowledge the contact.

  Her hands now gripped tight to the thick material of the bus driver’s jacket, she began to cramp. Sliding back yet again, she screamed as he lurched forward and buried his head in her right armpit. Through the three layers, she felt his lips fold back and his teeth grinding against the dense fabric.

  Leaning back and facing Cora, the driver spit a mouthful of nylon and polyester into the wind, growling as he looked into her eyes.

  The cold air now assaulting the exposed skin along her right side, Cora twisted to the left and searched for the man who’d saved her less than twenty minutes earlier. “GRIFFIN—”

  “I’m here.”

  The driver, now with his hands around her waist, scratched at her belt and looped his fingers between
the leather and the denim that sat next to her cool skin. The deep knurled ridges along his left hand oozed a warm river of blood that ran down her side and rested in the crevasse of her lower back.

  Griffin’s voice came from somewhere beyond. “Hold tight—I’ll have you out in just a minute.”

  Only Cora didn’t have a minute. She didn’t have thirty seconds. From her position and with the incensed older man still bearing down, she was already out of time.

  As the bus driver craned his neck forward and down, pushing into her bare right side, Cora slid both of her legs up under him, creating an ever so slight gap between the two. She wedged one knee up and then the other, until the space would accommodate the grimy soles of her tattered deck shoes.

  She now sensed that Griffin had joined the absurd game of tug-of-war as the driver’s body inched backward, placing his face directly over her open skin. “WAIT.”

  Griffin stopped pulling. “WHAT?”

  Releasing her right hand from the driver's shoulder, Cora grabbed a handful of his hair and pushed his face to the left, and in the process ripped away a large chunk of his matted hair. Now free, his head again darted forward as she came around and drove her thumb into his left eye socket, pushing him back once again.

  Undeterred, the driver pulled away and bit at her hand as his eye dangled a half inch out of its socket. Locking her toes under the waistband of the driver’s trousers, Cora kicked up and away, sending him into the air, crashing into Griffin, and out onto the snow-covered dirt.

  Cora scrambled out from under the tall shrub, retrieved the weapon she’d dropped, and stood over the man still frantically struggling to get at her. Placing her foot over his throat as he clawed at her pant leg, she put two rounds into her attacker’s head.

  Dropping her weapon and sliding down the tree at her back, she turned to Griffin. “Why is this happening, what’s wrong with these people?”

  Griffin, who from his knees brushed off the filth of his own battle, said, “I don’t know, but I have a funny feeling this isn’t the end of it.”

  19

  Helping carry the gravely wounded engineer to the rear door of the fire truck, no one spoke. Ethan and David only watched the captain and firefighter for signals on what they needed. They helped set the limp body in and slammed the door. The firefighter circled the rig as the captain moved to the driver’s door. Before stepping inside, he turned to Ethan and David. “Boys, this thing is bad, I mean real bad. Get to your loved ones and find somewhere to hide, at least for a few days.”

  David nodded. “Where are you taking him?”

  Shutting the driver’s door and lowering the window, the captain said, “To the hospital, and after that the boys and I are going to take a wide run around town, just to make sure everyone who is able gets to somewhere safe.”

  “The hospital? But is he even going to make it—”

  Starting the engine, the captain looked out to the horizon. “We’ve got to get out ahead of this thing. We’ve seen reports from other cities that this virus or whatever it is actually began yesterday, and some even the day before. Those places are no longer around. Their communications are dead and the streets are filled with people eating each other. That will be this place in a matter of hours. Get somewhere safe, and do it soon.”

  Ethan motioned toward the east end of town. “The firehouse, can’t we all hole up there?”

  Pulling away from the sidewalk, the captain shook his head. “It’s already gone. Those things came through nearly an hour ago. Tore the damn garage doors right off their tracks. Once we make our last sweep, we’re heading to higher ground, maybe drive into the city.”

  “But—”

  “You boys should be fine. You have weapons—don’t be afraid to use them.”

  David watched as the red behemoth moved out into the street and turned right a quarter mile up. He grabbed Ethan by the jacket, and looked him in the eyes. “Thank you.”

  “What?”

  “For pulling me away, before I grabbed him. You’re right.”

  “I am?”

  David nodded. “Yeah, those things. I don’t know. I mean. I mean you know, my head is still spinning, but, yeah. We have to listen to what Captain Faust said. We have to go get Carly right now and get the hell out of here. If we wait until tomorrow, it may be too late.”

  “We?”

  “Yes we, what else are you going to do? You heard him, we need to go.”

  Turning away from his friend and starting back toward their truck, Ethan said, “How do we know he’s telling the truth about how widespread this is, or that any of what you saw online was the truth? We don’t, all we have to go on is the word of a man who just lost one of his own.”

  Stepping up his pace, David moved ahead of his friend and stopped. “Listen, I’m going to get Carly, and you’re coming along. I don’t really care what you want and I’m not asking for permission. Get in the truck. Once we find a safe place to ride this out, you’re free to do whatever you want. I’m your best friend and I’ll be damned if I let this thing take either of us down.”

  Ethan sat quiet for a moment, looking at David but also looking through him. He rubbed his eyes and shook his head. “Okay, but there are two things we’re doing before we leave.”

  “What’s that?”

  “We make sure Shannon is okay and go back to my apartment.”

  “For what?”

  “I need to find out what Emma wanted last night. I’m now guessing it had nothing to do with work. I’ll grab my phone and charge it as we drive.”

  Nodding, David held out his hand. “Sure thing, but this time I’m driving.”

  Ethan handed over the keys, moved to the passenger door and before stepping inside, checked his weapon. David did the same and made a mental note of the two additional magazines he left in the center console.

  A hollow thud from the rear of the armored vehicle caused both men to step back. Yelling over the top of the truck Ethan pulled out his weapon and started to expand his radius around the back of the truck. “David, what the hell was that?”

  Quickly opening the driver’s door and climbing in, David turned over the engine before calling back to his friend. “I don’t know, just get in. Let’s go.”

  Ethan took two small steps toward the rear and stopped. Another jarring blow against their vehicle and another. He moved another few feet out and back as the offending party came into view. Six unmistakably devastated individuals, each more grotesquely malformed than the next.

  The first three men had collectively, less than fifty percent of their faces still intact. From the chest down, they appeared somewhat normal, except for the bright red smattering that covered most of their shirts and pants. Any of the three could have been his next door neighbor, although today, Ethan wouldn’t have been able to pick him out of a lineup.

  Two smaller females were also part of the grisly collection, and appeared to have been gutted from sternum to navel. As they marched toward Ethan, what remained of their internal organs spilled out over their belts and dropped onto the street with each step forward.

  The last member of the group, a heavyset gentleman, was most certainly an out-of-towner and was here specifically for the chili-fest. He wasn’t nearly as disfigured as the others; his only distinguishing mark was the massive hole in his neck and the ensuing blood that flowed from his carotid. That and the ‘Kiss the Cook’ apron offered Ethan a completely different reason to want to shoot him first.

  Turning their attention away from the truck, the group eyed Ethan as he took another step forward and raised his weapon. “Back, all of you. Step back from the vehicle or I will shoot.”

  His door now shut and waiting for his friend to join him in the cab, David only heard Ethan’s last four words. With the truck still running and in park, he shook his head, stepped out and moved around the front.

  Spotting Ethan dead ahead and with the gang of six approaching from the rear of the truck, David’s line of sight was blocked.
He moved quickly around to the left in an attempt to get a better vantage, but was still left without an opening. “Ethan, shoot them.”

  Turning to David and then back to the group, Ethan fired off three rounds, although only two found their intended targets. The first took down the man in the apron, striking him just above the right knee and throwing him instantly to the ground.

  The next round tore into the shoulder of the unidentifiable man just behind the first. A mess of tattered cotton and large chunks of flesh winged off the women behind him. Off balance, the wounded man tripped over his own feet and took two of the others with him in the process.

  With the last two now only feet away, Ethan took a small step back and again leveled his pistol. Squeezing off a single shot, he flinched as the head of the bigger of the two men exploded, sending the body instantly to the asphalt.