Dusk of Humanity : (Book 1 in the Dusk of Humanity Series)

by M. K. Dawn

  He took a few small steps towards her. “Slash? What happened?”

  She didn’t seem to notice he was there. Shock. He turned around and thought about all those people in the hall. Sloan would hate for any of them—her colleagues especially—to see her in such a dire state.

  Archer closed the elevator doors. “I’m going to get you home.”

  “No! No!” She came to life almost to the point of hysterics. “Not the ninth floor!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  Sloan woke startled and disoriented. The sirens were no longer blaring, but the red lights continued to flash. The emergency alarm. Everyone was to return to their rooms and wait for further instructions. Was that where she was? In her room, in their bed? One more uncomfortable than she remembered. But there was also something familiar about the disagreeable mattress. Could it be she was in a hospital bed? Freed from the elevator and the monster that pursued her? Fear coursed through her veins, setting her body on fire. Her dreams were entangled with monsters and those she loved. Friends, family, children—no one was safe from the serrated teeth of those things. Peaceful, happy memories with her family were replaced by savage massacres. Quiet moments alone with Archer became a warzone filled with guns, blood, and death.

  “Hey there.” Archer’s voice trickled down her spine. Was it real, or another dream? Would the monsters return? Slaughter them both? Or was she safe for the moment, guarded by a man she’d given her heart to?

  “Sloan?”

  She dropped her cheek to the pillow and faced him. “Where are we?”

  “Surgery ward.” His voice was low, almost to the point of a whisper. “You okay?”

  “How long…” She cleared her dry, scratchy throat. “How long have I been out?”

  He leaned forward and rested his elbows on her bed. “Not long. Fifteen minutes.”

  Was that it? The dreams—nightmares—felt as if they had gone on for hours. “The ninth floor?”

  “It’s been secured. I have a team down there. First report came in not two minutes ago. Aside from a few drops of blood, they haven’t found much.”

  That couldn’t be right. Maybe she’d misheard? “You checked the VIP hall?”

  “Yes. They’re working on the rest as we speak. Fletcher and Russo have not been found.”

  “They’re dead!”

  “Wh…what? Dead?”

  Sweat dripped down the edge of her hairline, just above the brow. “There were so many. Russo tried to stop them. Took down a few. But in the end…”

  “So many of what?”

  Sloan’s heart palpitated. He had men down there. How did he not already know? “The monsters.”

  “There were no signs of any…monsters. No bodies.”

  She paid no mind to his dismissive tone. “Fletcher was bitten. He was the one who took down Russo.”

  “Did you speak with him? With Fletcher?”

  The conversation and Fletcher’s deteriorated state would forever be burned in her memory. “Yes. It wasn’t much. But—” She took a deep breath. This was more difficult than she ever imagined. “He told me he was bitten by Tiffany.”

  Archer stiffened. “She’s infected?”

  “Yes. But he was bitten before she turned.”

  “Are you sure?”

  Sloan eased into a sitting position. “I examined the bite marks. They were human. I watched him die. Then saw what he…became.”

  Archer flew from his chair and paced the room. “What are you saying?”

  “The execs were incorrect. It’s not only transmitted after someone completes the transformation, but after they’re infected.”

  “Shit!” He seized the arm of the chair and tossed it aside. It was an uncommon outburst from a man who was always in controlled. “Are you sure?”

  “Yes.” There was no other logical explanation.

  “You saw no other bites on the man?”

  It was a question she wished he hadn’t asked. “I didn’t have a chance to check but—”

  “So you don’t know for certain?” He was frustrated and probably a bit annoyed. Both emotions were understandable, though they didn’t make what she told him any less true.

  “I spoke with him, Archer. He believed himself to be sick—nothing more. Contracted a virus from Tiffany.”

  He raked his hair from his face. “Shit. If what you’re saying is true—”

  “It is.”

  “Fine.” His jaw clenched. “Then we have a much bigger problem on our hands than we initially believed.”

  Bigger than the horde of monsters on floor nine? Or had she failed to mention that vital detail? Her thoughts were still lost in the fog that was her fear.

  Archer stopped pacing and stared at her, deep purplish-black circles under his eyes. “I don’t know how to handle this.”

  “Which part?”

  “The dozens—possibly more—of sick people a few halls over.”

  Sloan’s blood froze. “What do you mean? Sick how?”

  Archer shook his head. “Some have been bitten. Others are reporting flu-like symptoms. Like Fletcher. Like my father.” His voice sounded more like that of a child’s than the military man he was.

  “Your father?”

  “And the President. The execs.”

  Sloan couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “You know this for certain?”

  “My father, yes. The others, I’m not sure. I need to order a clean sweep of the floor, but the initial reports indicated they were all sick. There was also a room with a cage. And so much blood. I think they were experimenting on Jones and Martinez. I can only assume they did in fact reanimate and escaped.”

  Sloan slid her legs off the side of the bed. Had they not heard what she told them after her initial autopsy? All the organs were gone. There was no reversing that kind of damage. There was no point in experimentation. “We need to attempt to isolate the victims before it reaches the point of no return.”

  “Sloan, I don’t think you understand the magnitude of the situation.”

  “A few dozen bitten. Out of how many, a couple thousand people? Plus the ones on the loose? With a large group of armed men, they too can be taken care of.”

  “Come on.” He wrapped an arm under hers and eased her off the bed. “You need to see what we’re dealing with.”

  After a few wobbly steps, Sloan felt comfortable walking on her own. That was, until they reached hall two. Her knees buckled and she nearly dropped to the floor. There were so many of them. Lines of people up and down the hall waiting to been seen. Hundreds, at least.

  “These are just the ones who’ve come under their own freewill. Others have been sent back to their rooms.”

  “You’ve sent the sick away?” Her stomach turned. “Back with the rest of the population?”

  “It all happened so fast. No one saw the correlation. Some came in because of bite marks, others because of the flu. Neither mentioned an issue with the other.” He was calm. Too calm. Did he not realize the seriousness of the situation?

  “We need to get everyone that is sick, everyone that has been bitten, back here at once.”

  He nodded but didn’t move, only gazed down the hall at all the innocent people who had no idea just how sick they really were.

  “Archer!” She grabbed his face, forcing him to look at her. “We have to isolate them all! And the ones who’ve already turned…they must be taken care of before they can hurt anyone else. Do you understand what I’m saying?”

  “Yeah. I need to access the weapons vault.”

  ***

  “Attention,” the intercom blared. “Anyone who is exhibiting flu-like symptoms or anyone who has been bitten: please report to the medical ward at once.”

  It was the best they could think of before Archer took off, leaving Sloan in charge of the sick. He had called operations, informed Wu of what needed to be said, then gathered a group of soldiers and headed to obtain as many weapons as they could from the weapons vault. More of his men were
to meet him there. Once armed, they would go door to door, room to room, and hopefully put an end to this nightmare.

  Now all she could do was wait to see if any more people showed. She had already separated the ill on this floor. One side of the hall would house those who’d been bitten but displayed no other indicators. The other side was for those who’d been bitten and exhibited symptoms.

  So far there were only twenty-five bitten and forty-two who were bitten and ill—a much lower number than she expected considering all the people waiting in the hall. Turned out many were there to help their loved ones. Others had heard there was a flu outbreak and came in hoping to get some kind of vaccination. She kept them on the floor as well. A few she suspected to be lying once they saw the others put under mandatory observation. And there was still the issue of the ninth floor and the monsters who roamed free. She couldn’t send all these people back into The Bunker without receiving an all clear from Archer, so she set them up in a few of the recovery rooms on the surgical ward. As soon as she debriefed her medical staff—as Archer had put it—she would send a few nurses to keep an eye out for any visual symptoms.

  Evelyn approached, her expression light as if this was a normal day treating normal patients. Sloan hated that she would have to be the bearer of bad news. “All patients are secure in their designated rooms. We brought in chairs, but the ill are going to need beds.”

  “Agreed.” The problem was they didn’t have enough for everyone.

  “Many are asking questions. None are happy they’re being locked in their rooms. I tried to reassure them it was to isolate the virus and keep it from spreading even further, but you know how patients are.”

  How would they feel about being locked up if they knew the truth: that at any moment they could die and turn into a monster hell-bent on killing anyone in their path?

  “This is kind of exciting. A medical outbreak. Do we know the source? I’ve overhead the patients mention the flu, but with the hallucinations, that seems unlikely. Not to put any stock in what Travis has to say—”

  “I need to speak with the entirety of the medical staff,” Sloan cut her off before she could continue the ramblings of the conspiracy theorist, Dr. Travis Morrison. “Could you gather them please?”

  “Sure. Meet in the locker rooms? Say, twenty minutes?”

  “No—”

  “Well,” Evelyn said, “the doctor’s lounge is occupied.”

  “If you would let me continue…” Sloan snapped.

  Evelyn took a step back. “What’s wrong?”

  After all the time they’d spent together, Sloan should have known that Evelyn wouldn’t have taken her harsh tone as anything other than distress. “Assemble the others. Quickly. We’ll meet here in case other patients arrive.”

  Evelyn hesitated for a second then rushed down the hall beckoning everyone to follow. It didn’t take long before they were gathered—all that had bothered to show up. Sloan pushed the cynical thought out of her head. Those who were not here probably were unable to do so.

  Travis began the conversation. “What is this outbreak, Dr. Egan?”

  Before Archer left, they had decided the best course of action was to tell the medical staff the truth. The more information they had, the better they could understand the severity of the situation. For once in her life she didn’t contemplate beforehand what she would say; didn’t plan out each word carefully. She just laid it on them. The whole damn thing. From the lies they were told to get them here, to the surface mission that cost three good men their lives, to Tiffany being bitten and likely roaming the halls with countless others, each with an extraterrestrial parasite occupying their bodies.

  For a minute, no one spoke. Most stood in a state of shock. A few made their way to the floor, legs weak with the horrors she placed upon them. Travis was the only one who appeared unfazed. He was probably thrilled to be in the midst of a government cover-up/alien invasion.

  “What now?” Evelyn asked. Her normally perky disposition was replaced by a more somber temperament. “If all those people are infected, doesn’t that mean they’ll change?”

  Sloan pressed her fingertips to each temple in an attempt to knead away the pressure building inside her head. She knew this question would come. It had been clawing at the back of her mind, begging for an answer. All those innocent people. “They will only change after they’ve passed away. For now, we do everything we can to keep them alive. IV drips, ventilators, life-support. Whatever can be done to ensure not a single person dies.”

  “Son of a bitch!” a man screamed as the elevator door opened. “Get control of yourself, man!” Another group of twenty or so stumbled out. Most appeared feverish and pale.

  Time to get to work. “I want two nurses to keep an eye on the people in the surgical ward. Any sign of illness, remove them at once. Travis, you and a couple of others evaluate and take our new patients to their designated rooms.

  “Yes, ma’am.” He grabbed a couple others and rushed off.

  “Everyone else prep medical supplies. We need all the beds we can find—cots, blankets on the floor if we have to. No one is to leave this level. If not bitten or ill, they wait in the surgery hall until The Bunker is clear. You are not to speak of this to anyone. We cannot afford mass hysteria. Unknown illness causing aggressive hallucination; that’s all you’re authorized to say. If there are any issues, come directly to me. If I’m not available, Evelyn is next in charge. Please ensure the patients are as comfortable as possible.”

  The rest of the team hurried off. All except Evelyn. “We can’t keep them locked in those rooms forever. People will grow anxious. Hungry. And one bathroom per room to accommodate all those people?”

  “You’re right. It won’t be long before this gets out of hand. But I don’t know what else to do. Floor nine—there were so many of them. Ones who had already turned. Last Archer spoke to his men, not one was found. They didn’t just disappear. They’re here somewhere, in search of their next victims. I can’t send these people back there, unarmed and unaware. And the ill…it’s just a matter of time before they’re one of the monsters.”

  Evelyn glanced down the hall. “When they turn, do you think the doors can hold them?”

  The mountainous walls surrounding them began to close. Sloan clutched her chest, unable to breath. The magnitude of the situation beat against her. There was no escape. They were locked in a cavern with no way out.

  “Sloan?” Evelyn stroked her arm. “You need to breathe. We’ll get through this. Just breathe.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “What’s the plan, Sir?” Corporal Smith asked as she crept alongside Archer. It hadn’t taken him long to fill in his troop—the ones he could reach—on the situation. Many had already begun to report strange sightings around The Bunker. Others had heard inklings of a virus. All were shocked to learn of the real reason they’d been led into this underground sanctuary. Did they believe him? He wasn’t sure. But like any good soldier, they were trained to follow their commanding officer even in the most asinine circumstances.

  They stood at the edge of the farm and stared in disbelief. They had no weapons. No backup. Half his men were MIA, and now scattered about was death as far as they could see.

  The farm was known for its majestic beauty. An all-American red barn and a huge grassy pasture was a glimpse into the outside world from below. If you let your mind stray, forget everything that had happened, you could trick yourself into believing you were actually on a farm. It was impossible to tell that the ground you stood on was a massive raised flower bed. Even the sky was deceiving; today it was overcast with a slight warm breeze from the south.

  It killed him to know that his memory of this place would be forever tainted. Archer would never be able to erase these images from his mind. Every animal—cows, pigs, goats, and chickens—slaughtered. Ripped apart in an unthinkable amount of carnage. Some were unrecognizable. Others were mangled together, reminding him of an old Frankenstein movie gone h
orribly wrong.

  How many of those things—the infected—had done this? A couple? A hundred? It was impossible to tell.

  “Sir?” Corporal Smith urged. “We can’t stand here like this in the open. With no weapons.”

  She was right. The problem was the weapons vault was on the other side of the floor, tucked away in the back corner, disguised as a shed. Another one of his brilliant fucking ideas. Out of sight out of mind, he’d told them. If the civilians didn’t know where the weapons were, they wouldn’t think to use them when times got tough. Or some bullshit along those lines. What was he thinking? To be fair, he never imagined they would be faced with an attack of this magnitude. Never thought The Bunker would be used for anything other than the occasional test run. “How many of us are there?”

  “Fifty-four,” Smith said.

  “How many others have we been in contact with?”

  Whispers filtered through the group. “Total, including us: one-twenty-five.”

  Out of three hundred? How the hell was that possible?

  “Others may show,” Smith whispered. To herself? To him? He wasn’t sure.

  Didn’t matter how many showed if they didn’t reach the weapons vault. There were no infected in sight, but that didn’t do a damn thing to calm his nerves. These weren’t some mindless zombies. Whatever they were up against had some sort of intelligence—he was certain of it.

  “Do we make a break for it or go in low?” Smith asked.

  It was a question he’d been toying with for several minutes. It wasn’t long after midday down here. The sun still shone high in the sky. The open pasture didn’t provide any sort of cover. He had the ability to change the sky settings—turn day into night. It could help. Though Sloan had mentioned she didn’t believe they could see. Was that because she encountered them in the light? Could they have some sort of night vision? It was also possible that they were blind and used a secondary sense—smell perhaps—to locate their prey. If that was the case, it didn’t matter what they did. Make a run for it or go in nice and quiet, without weapons, they would be easy pickings if those things decided to attack.