by M. K. Dawn
“Are they…” Smith began, but couldn’t finish the thought.
Archer knew he needed to say something, anything. “We believe the Pentobarbital has prevented the victims from changing.”
“They’re all dead?” Staff Sergeant Dan Brizzi, a stocky ginger, asked.
“They were already dead,” Cavl answered. “We just prevented them from becoming the monster that took their lives.”
The room fell silent. It was the reminder they all needed; a single bite equated to death.
“We’ve gathered all the tools we could find,” Smith said, breaking the silence. “There’s not much. A few clippers and pruners. Upstairs there was a collection of antique tools. Most are rusted but may still be of use. We also have a pitchfork, shovel, and hoe. It doesn’t sound like much but there’s enough for everyone to have one.”
Archer gazed at the pathetic pile of weapons. How the hell were they going to survive with just these? “It’ll have to do. We’ll stay close together. Run like hell towards the vault. If attacked, aim for the chest. It’s the only way to take ‘em down.”
“There’s a door that faces the old shed.” Cavl grinned. “Sorry, the weapons vault. This way.”
They each grabbed a weapon as they walked by. Archer decided on a dull pair of pruning shears—the worst of the worst. Better he have them than anyone else. He already had enough blood on his hands for one day.
When they reached the door, Cavl inched it open and peered out. “I don’t see anything.”
Neither had they when they’d started for the barn. “They’re out there.”
“Didn’t say they weren’t.” Cavl rolled his large neck on his even larger shoulders. “What we need is a distraction. Something to catch their attention while the others make a break for it.”
“Too bad there isn’t any livestock left,” Brizzi said.
“That would have been ideal,” Cavl said. “Guess we’ll have to use the next best thing.” He opened the door and stepped out.
“Cavl!” Archer yelled. “No!”
He turned back and lifted his sleeve to reveal a massive bite mark. “I’m already a dead man walking.” Then he ran into the pasture.
The infected were on him in an instant. Archer watched in horror, but if they didn’t go now… “Run!”
He only needed to say it once. The others must of have realized this was the only opportunity they were going to get to flee without being noticed.
A full thirty seconds passed before they were detected. By that time, it was too late for the infected to catch up. Archer was the first to reach the vault and scanned his wrist. The door open and everyone piled in.
When the door was secure, Archer frantically counted his people. Aside from Cavl, they were all accounted for. It was a miracle.
“I can’t believe he did that!” Smith cried.
“He was bitten,” someone reminded her, but she was too hysterical to notice.
If this were a normal mission, Archer would have looked down on a soldier having a breakdown before the operation was completed. She would have been called unfit, weak, but this was anything but normal. If he wasn’t the one in charge, he would be freaking the hell out too.
“Smith.” Archer pulled her aside. “He saved us. There was no way we would’ve all made it without his sacrifice. He’s a hero.”
“I know.” She bobbed her head. “But after he saved all those people from turning…he’s going to become one of them himself.”
“We’ll gather the weapons, complete the mission, then find him. We won’t allow him to become one of them.”
***
It took a good hour to gather the majority of the weapons. Thank God Archer had the foresight to store bags within the vault.
Armed, they were ready to leave and face their attackers.
“Remember, aim for the chest,” Archer repeated for the umpteenth time. “Headshot only slows them down.”
“We got it, boss,” Brizzi said. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”
Archer was the first to breach the walls of the vault. He crept out, semi-automatic rifle raised and ready to fire. The electronic sun had set, replaced by a full moon and a sky full of stars. If he’d realized the time, he would have changed the setting while in the vault. Now it was too late to turn back.
The plan was to head for the barn, take shelter until the commotion died down, then make their way towards the elevators.
However, now that they were out in the open, not a single infected could be seen. None attacked. No sound. No movement. Their absence put him further on edge. Was it possible they were waiting for them to let down their guard? Were they smart enough to hide some place as secure as the barn?
There were too many questions and not a single Goddamn answer. Archer had always despised working in such unpredictable conditions.
“Do we keep moving?” Smith whispered from his nine. “Head for the elevators?”
Archer scanned their surroundings as they continued. Again, he kicked himself for not considering the time; his eyes were taking too long to adjust.
He scanned the farm again and still saw nothing. Heard nothing. Only the shuffling of their feet on the grassy ground. “Yeah. Let’s do it.”
Smith signaled the others.
Each step closer to the elevator, the faster Archer’s pulse raced. It couldn’t be this easy. Not after everything that had happened. Why now had they decided to disperse? The vault was protected by metal walls six inches deep. Was it possible once they could no longer smell their prey they left? And if they left, where had they gone?
All those people in the medical ward were a smorgasbord of fresh meet. He needed to get to back there at once.
They reached the elevator and piled inside; it was much less crowded than it had been a few hours ago.
Relief engulfed them but there was no time for a celebration. They might have survived the farm but those things did not just disappear; they were still somewhere in The Bunker.
“Sir, what now?” Smith asked. It hadn’t taken her long to regain her composure. No one spoke of her breakdown—chances were good no one would ever speak of it. What happened among brothers of war stayed among brothers of war.
“Check on the medical ward. There are many victims held there. We need to find out where the rest of our soldiers are located and arm them.”
The elevator stopped and the doors opened. The once noisy medical ward was now quiet. Seemed Sloan had gotten organized in the time he was gone. “I need to find Dr. Egan. Start making the calls to all the soldiers you know. Get them up here ASAP. Arm them. We need to get this situation under control and the only way to do that is to rid The Bunker of the infected.”
“We’ll get right on it,” Smith said.
“Thanks.” Archer left them in the first room on the left and headed down the hall in search of Sloan. Each room he passed was packed with people—sick people; infected.
“Archer?” Sloan’s voice broke through his fear. “You’re back! And armed.”
He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close, not caring that she was surrounded by a group of her colleagues.
“Are you all right?” She wiggled out of his embrace. “I was beginning to worry.”
“We ran into some…” He was suddenly aware of all the eyes on him. Two pairs in particular: Evelyn and Vicky. “Trouble.”
“On the farm?” Vicky asked. “What kind of trouble?”
Archer took Sloan’s arm and pulled her aside. “You told them where I was?”
“We decided to tell them the truth, remember? Why? What happened?”
Archer dampened his lips. “We lost a lot of good people. Cavl. Alex.”
“We won’t tell them. Not yet, at least. Wait until things are secure.”
“You want me to lie?”
“Of course not,” she said. “Just omit the truth. We have enough problems as is.”
“What’s happened?”
Sloan’s eyes
flitted down the hall. “Every room is filled with people who have been bitten. We’ve arranged them from most severe to no symptoms aside from the bite. The patients who are critical, we’ve been working to keep alive with life-support and such, but we’ve reached the point where there is nothing more we can do for them. It won’t be long before they turn.”
“How many are infected?” Archer asked.
“We’ve logged seven-hundred and twenty-one people.”
Archer’s knees buckled. Those along with the ones already turned on the farm, the execs…the soldiers who could not be reached. The number was staggering. Unbelievable. Spots danced before his eyes.
Over half of The Bunker’s population was gone.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
“Archer?” Sloan tried her best to steady the wobbly man before her. “Are you all right?”
“It’s impossible,” he stuttered.
“You need to sit. Before you fall.”
He took an unsteady step back. “I’m fine. I need to…I need to…”
“Can someone grab a chair?” Sloan asked. Travis brought one over and slid it beneath Archer. Why did the man always have to be so stubborn? He swayed again. “Sit down, Colonel.”
Archer plopped into the chair and stuck his head between his knees. “We’re fucked.”
Sloan crouched in front of him. “What?”
“The farm was overrun. Floor nine: overrun. Execs: overrun. In a matter of hours, this floor will be overrun. We’re outnumbered.”
She hated the defeat in his voice. “What do we do?”
Archer stood then sat back down just as quickly. “Lockdown The Bunker.”
“I thought you said once under lockdown no one will be able to leave the floor they’re located on.”
“Yes, that’s how it works,” he said matter-of-factly.
His nonchalant attitude shocked Sloan. It was so far out of character that she wasn’t sure she’d heard him right. “What about the other survivors?”
“Survivors?” he growled. “You think there are still survivors wandering the halls unscathed?”
“The emergency alarms were sounded. Many retreated to their rooms and are awaiting further instructions.”
Archer stood again and stumbled to the closest door. He leaned against the frame and peered through the small window. “All these people were bitten by a friend or loved one they thought needed help.” He turned around to face her. “Would you seek medical help for a nip on the finger by an ill friend?”
“I understand what you’re saying—”
“If you were sick with what you thought was the flu, would you feel like dragging yourself away from the comforts of your bed to seek a doctor for body aches?” Archer didn’t wait for her to respond. “No you wouldn’t. I wouldn’t. What the hell is a doctor going to do about a minuscule bite or a few body aches?”
“Archer—”
“I have no men left to send in search of survivors or go door to door to see if people are sick or in hiding.”
“Then send out a message to everyone’s wristband. Instruct those in hiding to board the nearest elevator and head to this floor.”
“This floor?” Archer slammed his fist into the door. “This floor is about to be crawling with those things! Look at them! There is not a single person in this room still conscious. They’re not going to wake and be all better.”
“I know what they’ll become when they wake, Archer,” Sloan snapped. “But they’re behind locked doors.”
“How long do you think these doors will hold when a few dozens of those things tries to escape?”
She and Evelyn had thought the same thing, but right now, they were so frail. Her brain couldn’t comprehend her patients as anything else at the moment.
As if on cue, a life-support machine went off. On instinct, Sloan reached for the handle, ready to charge forward and do whatever it took to revive the dead.
But before she could turn the handle, Archer stopped her. “There’s nothing you can do.”
Sloan resisted. “I can try!”
“How? Shock their heart? There is nothing left inside that man that makes him what he used to be. He’s nothing more than a host. And when he wakes…”
“There’s still time,” Sloan whispered. Time for what, she wasn’t sure. Logically, she knew what Archer said was true. It was the healer inside her that wasn’t quite ready to give up.
“We’re out of time, Slash. The Bunker is out of time. We need to focus on the living. The uninfected. Save as many as we can.”
“There are not many of us on this floor who are well. The majority are doctors and nurses. A handful of people we have waiting in the lounge. You and your men. There’s less than a hundred, if I were to guess.”
“So we still have over a thousand with statuses unknown.”
A second alarm sounded. Another patient was dead. Sloan turned her head to see who had passed this time and screamed as the black, dead eyes of a monster stared back at her.
Archer grabbed her arm and yanked her away from the door.
Behind them, panic took over. No one else had seen the monsters the infected became. To Sloan, the sight was still as terrifying as it was the first time she encountered one.
“Stay quiet,” Archer ordered. “It cannot see us, but it’s attracted to noise.”
“What do we do?” Vicky’s voice quivered with fear. “Where do we go?”
Archer thought for a moment, eyes never leaving the door. “There’s a place inside The Bunker. A fallout shelter.”
“A fallout shelter within a fallout shelter?” Travis asked. “Talk about paranoid.”
Sloan glared at him. “This is hardly the time, Dr. Morrison.”
“That’s where we should head,” Archer said.
“Can’t we just leave?” Sloan asked. Being locked inside a secondary bunker with a bunker overrun by aliens with every intention of eating them didn’t sound like a much of a plan.
“Leave The Bunker?” Archer asked. “And go where? These things are out there too. At least in here we have supplies.”
But they were also backed into a corner with no way to escape. “Then what? We can’t stay in there forever.”
Archer narrowed his eyes. “First things first: get everyone to safety. Then we can come up with a plan.”
A thunderous bang made them all jump out of their skin. In place of one infected clawing at the door to break free, there were now four. The door whined under the pressure of the newly risen monsters’ combined weight. Archer was right. It wouldn’t take much more before the door gave way.
“We need to go!” Archer said.
“What about the others?” Evelyn asked. “The ones who aren’t ill?”
“Any person that has been bitten is ill,” Archer reminded them. “They may not display the symptoms now but they will soon enough.”
Evelyn’s mouth dropped open. “You’re suggesting we leave them locked in their rooms? Waiting to die?”
“Yes.” There was no sympathy in Archer’s voice. What had happened on the farm that turned him so cold? “There is nothing we can do for them now. If we bring them, they will put the rest of us in danger.”
“I’ll stay,” Evelyn said. “Keep them comfortable.”
“No!” Sloan rushed to her friend and took hold of her hands. “No. You’ll come with us.”
“I took an oath, Sloan. You of all people understand how important that is.”
Sloan wanted to argue, but she could think of nothing to say.
“Cavl,” Archer stepped between them, towering over Evelyn’s tiny frame. “He was bitten. But instead of allowing the infection to consume him, he created a distraction. Sacrificed himself so we could make it to the weapons vault.”
Tears glistened in Evelyn’s big brown eyes. “He’s dead?”
“He was dead when we found him,” Archer said. “He knew it but still he fought so others would survive. There is nothing you can do for these people. They wi
ll turn and make you one of them. That is not what Cavl would have wanted.”
A small sob caught in her throat. “He saved you?”
Archer smiled. “He did. Without him, we would have never made it to the vault.”
Evelyn glanced down the hall once again. “They’re already dead,” she whispered.
Relief washed over Sloan. She didn’t think she could have left Evelyn here to die. Just as she couldn’t leave any other potential survivors to die. “Send out the message to all that are well. Provide instructions on how to get to the fallout shelter.”
“Slash,” Archer argued, “there’s no time.”
“Thirty minutes,” she pressed. “Give them thirty minutes.”
“Thirty minutes.” Archer consented but not without some additional grumbling. “The doors on the fallout shelter will close thirty minutes after the message is sent. Not a second more.”
***
Smith was unable to reach any additional soldiers. Communication with operations was down. Archer was able to log into the system to send out the SOS. Each minute that ticked by, Sloan watched as he grew more and more anxious. She didn’t blame him. They were all on edge by the time the message was live.
More than half of the first room of ill patients had changed. The frame of the door had cracked. A few desks pushed against the door were all that stood between them and the monsters.
To keep herself busy, Sloan had rounded up all those who were healthy and had them waiting at the elevator until the group was ready to go. There weren’t nearly enough soldiers—the civilians outnumbered them four to one. A few volunteered to arm themselves, much to the dismay of Archer. He thanked them but said they would hold off on the distribution of weapons until absolutely necessary.
“The clock’s ticking,” Archer announced as he stepped out of the last empty room. “The message has been sent.”
“I haven’t received it,” Sloan said. She wanted to make sure any who were still out there had every second Archer had promised.
“Give it a second, Slash.”
Mid-sentence, her wristband vibrated and chimed. “Tenth floor? The dining hall?”