by North, Geoff
Amanda grinned up at her for the first time. “And he’s outta bullets, right?” A shot rang out, and the rear-view mirror on the driver’s side of the minivan exploded, spraying the girl with crystallized glass dust and bits of plastic.
A man doesn’t pack that much fire power and not carry extra ammunition. Angela could hear the condescension in her dead step-father’s voice. She could feel his contempt.
They moved further back, slipping between the rows of cars. “Over here,” Michael insisted. Angela and Amanda followed him to a three-foot high cement barrier and climbed over. They were now in a ditch strewn with garbage and dead grass. “He won’t look for us here. We’re not even in the parking lot anymore.”
Angela could see traffic lights off to the left. A semi-trailer had tipped over, and the backend of a Volkswagen Beetle was sticking out from beneath it. More vehicles were parked up behind the crash, the doors left open on most, the owners long gone. Behind them was a highway; its four lanes lined with abandoned cars and buses. She lifted her head slowly over the barrier and risked a peek back into the mall parking lot. She spotted Roy a few seconds later, wandering among the rows, moving farther and farther away. “I think you’re right. I think we’ll be safe here for a little while.”
Amanda and Michael poked their heads up and watched the big monster weave his way among the vehicles. They watched as he tried door handles; most were locked, but some opened up. He would stick his big sweaty scalp in, and pull it back out again, like a foraging bear. Eventually he worked his way back to the broken windows of the sportswear store. He stood there for five more minutes, staring out over the quiet rows of metal and rubber. He started shooting his gun all around him. Bullets flew into parked cars, blowing out windows, ricocheting off fenders, and flattening tires. Roy re-loaded the gun and did it again. “Don’t think this is over! I’ll find you thieving fuckers! You’ll pay for the stuff you took, and then I’ll fucking tear out your throats with my goddamned bare hands!”
He tucked the empty revolver into the waist of his pants and vanished back into the mall.
Amanda had started to cry. “He’s gonna kill us. He’s gonna hunt us down and kill us... just like he did to Mom.”
Angela hugged the girl. “No he won’t. Roy can’t find us out here.”
Michael was sitting up against the concrete wall. “What are we supposed to do now? Where are we going to go?” He stared out at the ominous bank of black and green clouds moving in from the west.
Angela couldn’t answer him. They remained silent and watched the clouds build over the ruined skyline of their city. Even Angela’s step-father had nothing to say.
Chapter 4
“I am a scientist.” The more he said it, the realer it became. “I am a scientist.”
Louie Finkbiner walked along the underground corridor repeating the words over and over. The florescent lights above flickered, and Louie quickened his pace. They said this place was built to last. They said it could withstand anything. That was the third time this morning the lights had done that.
Louie had wondered the first time if it was just coincidence, that a single bulb or perhaps the ballast he was sitting under simply needed replacing. That had happened in the washroom while he was on the toilet. He could see it happening there; washrooms weren’t considered essential areas. It happened again when he went to the cafeteria for an early lunch. There had been no one working there at the time—kitchen employees had been evacuated to the lower levels four days before—and Louie had to make his own sandwich and heat his own bowl of soup. The lights had flickered there, too, but not just the ones above his head—they had flickered throughout the entire cafeteria.
“It’s not important,” he said to himself. “They dropped a fricking thermonuclear warhead on the city. Of course things aren’t going to run perfectly after that... It’s to be expected.” He was half-jogging by the time he made it to the elevator. He inserted the security card into the slot next to the door and waited for the little green light to grant him access. It did, and the door slid open noiselessly. Louie stepped in and inserted the card into another slot on an inside panel. It made a satisfied buzzing sound and the touch screen menu appeared directly above. There were ten subterranean levels in the Winnipeg Disease Study Center; level 1—the floor immediately below the surface—was inaccessible. It likely no longer existed, blasted into oblivion along with everything above it. Louie was on level 2, where workers took their breaks and ate their lunch. He needed to travel further down, past levels 3, 4, and 5—to the extra-secured floors where all the nasty stuff was stored.
Louie had stolen the security card from Tom Braden when news arrived the bombs were on their way. It wasn’t actually stealing; Tom’s card had dropped to the cafeteria floor during the big rush. Louie had planned on returning it to him once they were all safely tucked away in the emergency living quarters of level 10. But Louie had hung back. He hadn’t gotten into the elevator with Tom and the others. Someone with a security level as high as Tom’s had obviously gone with them because Tom hadn’t returned to search for his card.
That same card now granted Louie total access to the entire facility. All ten levels were lit up in cold blue on the touch screen. He pressed 8 and felt the slight lift in his body as the elevator started its descent. Tom Braden was one of the top DSC research scientists; he could go anywhere above ground and below. Louie Finkbiner was a security software technician, and his access throughout the facility up until three days ago had been extremely limited... until wonderful fate presented him with an opportunity. He had never fully understood why the DSC hadn’t granted him higher access; he was after all, the guy that coded all the security cards and made the doors lock. Why couldn’t they have trusted him with a level 4 security card instead of a level 1? If it wasn’t for guys like me, this place would hardly run at all.
The door slid open and Louie stepped out into level 8. “Fuck you, Tom.” He pocketed the card and headed down the hallway. Louie Finkbiner was a technician no longer. “I’m a scientist. I’m a scientist.” He had on multiple occasions met with Human Resources and expressed an interest in disease research. The HR reps had laughed at Louie, told him he was more suited for software than science. Concentrate your efforts on fixing computer viruses, they’d said, not human ones.
No one was laughing at him now. Louie had deactivated all the security cards except Tom’s. The scientists and their assistants, the kitchen workers, the janitors, the office workers, and the goddamned HR reps were all trapped on level 10, and they weren’t going anywhere without Louie’s say so. He punched the card into a slot with a little more force than necessary next to a door marked COMMUNICABLE LEVEL 5 STORAGE. This was where the really bad stuff was kept. Samples of the nastiest diseases known to man were stored here; Ebola, smallpox, bubonic plague, and a hundred more Louie had never heard of.
Louie made his way past the security stations where workers once checked in and checked out to make sure they had followed proper decontamination protocols, and that nothing entered that didn’t belong, and nothing left. He went past the showers and locker rooms, and through three more security check points using Tom’s card before arriving to the actual storage area. Louie found a storage transport gurney and started opening vacuum-sealed doors. He started removing metal canisters from their rubberized resting trays and placed them into the fitted openings of the gurney. He didn’t bother with a hazmat suit—he didn’t even put on gloves. The sample containers were made of tough stuff, and Louie felt quite confident he wouldn’t be contracting any horrible diseases all that soon. Besides, he didn’t have the time to follow the rules. The facility was shutting down, and he had to complete his experiment before the power cut off altogether.
He exited Communicable Level 5 Storage, picking up a fully-charged Taser from one of the security stops along the way, and pushed his loaded gurney back to the elevator. Louie travelled down to the tenth level and entered out into a spacious reception area. There w
as no one to greet him, and even if there had been, he was positive the greeting wouldn’t have been friendly. The thirty-eight DSC employees remaining in the facility were trapped beyond the area Louie was in, locked behind a final vacuum-sealed door leading off to cramped living quarters. They had enough food and water to last half a year but wouldn’t need even a week’s supply. They would all be dead within the next two or three days—perhaps sooner. It all depended on how quickly Louie’s explosive mixture of a dozen different diseases took to spread.
He pushed the gurney up in front of a wide set of double doors. Louie had the locked the doors from eight levels above when he felt fairly certain that everyone would be stowed safely on the other side. That had been four and a half days ago. Louie hadn’t communicated with any of them since. His walkie-talkie had squawked a few times after the first few hours, but eventually went silent. That would’ve been his boss, Richard Sheffield—in charge of all security—trying desperately to raise one of his staff. Richard never should’ve left his office, Louie thought. He never should’ve sealed himself away with all those other poor suckers and left the control room unattended.
Louie had taken Tom Braden’s card and headed straight for the main security control center. There he had disabled all the keys and sealed off the emergency living quarters. Richard, of course, would’ve tried exiting with his key, but he would’ve been as helpless as all the others. Louie snickered. It wasn’t that he didn’t like Richard; he was a good boss but picturing the so-called security chief trying to explain to everyone that his key wouldn’t work must have been hilarious.
“Not funny, Louie,” he scolded himself. “Those people have been cooped up long enough. They’re probably worried sick not knowing what happened to all their loved ones.” He chuckled again. “Worried sick... they ain’t seen nothin’ yet.”
He pulled the walkie-talkie from his belt and spoke into it. “Hello? Richard? Anybody there?”
It took almost half a minute for Richard to respond. “Who is this? Oh my God, are there people really out there? Please respond, we’ve been stuck in here for days.” He sounded out of breath, as if he’d set the transceiver down somewhere days ago and forgotten where he’d put it.
“Calm down, Richard. It’s Louie, and everything’s going to be okay.”
“Jesus... Louie? What’s happened out there? Why the hell won’t my key work?”
“Easy. One thing at a time.” Louie released the talk button and breathed in deeply. He had been waiting for something like this to happen for years. He was in control. There was no one to answer to for what he was about to do, no consequences. His heart was pounding with exhilaration, and Louie wanted the feeling to last forever. It was the main reason he’d waited this long to put his plan into action. He had spent the last four days planning, anticipating, and building his courage. Louie pressed the button back down and continued in a slow, sure voice. “I have a gun, Richard. It’s very big and very powerful. I want everyone to step back from the door. I want at least twenty feet between me and you when these doors open in about one minute. I’ll shoot the first person that moves. Do you understand?” He looked at the Taser resting on the canisters. It wasn’t big, and it wasn’t all that powerful, but the folks on the other side of the doors didn’t know that.
There was a long pause. “Louie? Are you okay? Are you feeling ill?”
He thinks I’m deranged, that the bomb did something to me... probably figures I’m suffering from radiation sickness. “No, I’m not ill. Get back away from the doors. I’ll explain everything when we’re face to face.” Louie turned the power off on his hand-held and shoved it back in his pocket. He reached into the pocket of his shirt and pulled out a thumb drive. He inserted it into the receiving port on top of the closest canister and watched the little green light blink. Louie had worried that the miniaturized computer chips might not work at all after the bomb. He didn’t know much about EMPs, but there was a concern the circuitry had been fried. Something inside the canister lid clicked, and Louie removed the lid carefully. He set the canister back upright in its gurney slot and repeated the process with all the other canisters.
Louie realized there was a chance the diseases stewing about within could infect him. He held his breath the entire time and prayed for the best. He unlocked the doors and pulled one open. He saw Richard first, standing next to Tom Braden. Others were clustered behind them, anxious and unmoving. They looked confused and worried, but not at all scared. What was there to fear? Their savior had arrived. They were free.
Louie pushed the gurney with all of his strength into a wall less than ten feet from the stunned DSC employees. Canisters toppled over and clanged against the floor. Somebody started screaming, but the noise was cut off as Louie stepped back and slammed the door shut. His fingers shook as he tried inserting the security key into the wall control panel. It finally slid in, and Louie punched the five digit lock code in. He leaned up against the doors and exhaled the breath he forgot he was still holding. “Okay,” he whispered, “I’m no fucking scientist.”
Louie took the elevator back up to level 2. He grabbed two hard bran muffins from the cafeteria and headed for the security control room. He sat into a chair facing multiple surveillance monitors. Maybe HR was right. I should’ve kept my mouth shut and stuck with what I was good at... Security software. Monitoring... watching people. Louie typed on a keyboard and the monitor directly in front of him lit up. It showed a view from behind the reception desk on level 10. He typed some more, and the monitor next to it flickered into life.
“What the fuck?” He leaned forward and made sure the video feed was set on live mode. Louie tossed a half-eaten muffin aside and slammed his fist against the desk. “Why aren’t they dying?” The gurney had been set back up on its wheels. Tom Braden was placing the last canister back in its slot. He was moving carefully but didn’t appear all that terrified. Others were gathered around him, shaking their heads and talking amongst themselves. Louie couldn’t hear what they were saying, but they definitely weren’t suffering. They weren’t choking and frothing at the mouth. “What’s wrong with you morons?” He yelled at the screen. “That’s frickin’ Ebola and smallpox floating in the air around you!”
Tom finished his task, looked up into the camera, and gave it the finger.
Louie grabbed the microphone headset and slipped it over his ears. He toggled an audio switch and swore. “You pompous asshole! Think you’re so much better than everyone else. I could’ve done what you did. I could’ve been a research scientist instead of a software technician if I’d really applied myself.”
Braden’s eyebrows furrowed together, and he pursed his lips. “I don’t think so, Louie. You lack the most basic understanding of the work being done here.”
“I understand enough to know you’re all going to be dead in a few hours.”
Tom shook his head. He stared into the camera with pity, as if looking into the eye of a child. “We’re not going to die any time soon. The canister samples don’t pose much of a threat with the outer seals removed. If you were aware of proper disease control procedures, you would’ve known there was a second seal inside each of those containers. Those secondary seals can only be reached and released with one of these.” He produced a pen-shaped object from the pocket of his lab coat and held it up to the camera. “Don’t go getting any more stupid ideas, Louie. There’s only half a dozen of these in the entire facility, and even with full security clearance, I guarantee you’ll never gain access to them.”
Louie stared at the screen with his mouth open. A piece of muffin fell from his lips and bounced onto the keyboard. “You were supposed to die. I was going to sit here and watch it happen.”
Richard came into view beside Tom. “Give it up, Louie. Open these doors up and let us out.”
“No way, Jose... not a fricking chance.”
“It’s not too late. We can forget all about this. For Christ’s sake, we’re trapped in here like animals.”
; Louie leaned back into the chair. “You don’t want out, Richard. There’s nothing left above. There isn’t even a way out to the top. We’re all caged animals, I’m afraid. Why don’t you get Tom there to unlock the canisters all the way and speed up your end?”
“You little bastard.”
Louie squirmed back even further. He was safe where he was but seeing the big man’s leering face in the screen brought back memories of being tormented by all the bigger guys in his past. Louie had been five and a half feet tall since he was sixteen, and not much heavier than a starving dog. He’d been bullied his entire adult life, and he wasn’t going to take it anymore. A greasy clump of black hair had worked free from his ponytail. He brushed it back over his head and stared at the face on the screen. “Call me what you want, it doesn’t change how things are. You and all the rest are going to starve to death down there, and I’m going to watch.”
Tom pushed Richard out of view. “Please, don’t do anything rash. Let’s talk this over.”
“I’m done talking. I’m done being pushed around. I’m through with taking orders from assholes and being made fun of behind my back.” Louie tore the headset away and threw it against a far wall. “So maybe I would’ve sucked as a research scientist... fuck it. I’ll find something else for them to chew on.”
He ran from the control room and headed back for the elevator. There were other levels with more secrets he didn’t know shit about. Louie was no scientist, but he had plenty of drive, and total clearance throughout the facility.
Chapter 5
Louie discovered a hundred more canisters on level 5. They were useless to him without the pen key in Braden’s pocket. Level 6 consisted mainly of offices and about a million boxes of filed papers. Louie hadn’t been there often; security passes were minimal, and the only service calls he’d made were to replace faulty keyboards and frozen desktops. Level 5 was where all the lethal stuff was stored. The entire staff used to joke how dangerous 5 was by holding their breath in the elevator as it passed between 4 and 6. The joke was on us, he thought, kicking a box of reports out of his path on the way back to the elevator. You couldn’t be in a safer place on earth just feet away from the most horrendous diseases known to man.