Dark Rhodes: Book 1 of the Ashleigh Rhodes Chronicles

by Michael Canon

  The snipers drew first blood as they took out the Hunters assaulting Martin’s SUV. As the first killer zombie was catapulted off the hood by one of the giant rounds, the other one jumped off the roof in retreat. The monster was dropped by the second sniper before it made it very far.

  Conner turned to me with a smile and said, “Lots, and lots of money!” as a follow up to his earlier statement.

  I was glad to see him coming around to who I had become, or at least I hoped he was.

  George Cho screamed, breaking up the levity of the moment, “Oh Shit! They’re inside the truck!”

  Connor and I both screamed, “The BMW?”

  “No, the last Chevy! I can see them climbing through the windows and windshield!” tears were streaming down his face as he elaborated.

  The two-way radio in my lap screamed to life “Help us! Oh, my God, they’re inside! Please, don’t leave us! No!”

  The screaming, multiple gunshots, along with the terribly familiar hissing of a Hunter, and moaning of many Georges made me want to turn off the radio.

  Our prayers, tears, and outrage for those in the Suburban were drowned out by a sound that could only be described as the tearing of a heavy fabric, like canvas, or the growling of a giant dragon. This was the signal that the finesse work of the snipers was done for the moment and it was time for the brute carnage of the mini-guns.

  The operators skillfully raked their guns back and forth through the ranks of the undead, sending hundreds of 7.62x51mm NATO rounds down range in short pulses to keep the barrels on target and from overheating. One of the gunners let a burst drift across the compromised Suburban. Rounds quickly tore the vehicle and zombies to shreds. I looked away as I saw the SUV start to smoke, then burst into flames.

  The effects of this mini-gun onslaught of the zombies were ghastly and amazing at the same time. The high-velocity, armor-piercing rounds were made for use against lightly armored vehicles and buildings and had a devastating effect on organic objects. Each of the metal jacketed rounds passed through multiple zombies unfortunate enough to be caught in their flight path.

  With each pulse from the operators, the mass of undead in front of our SUV shuddered and became smaller. The second the way in front of us appeared passable, Connor stomped on the gas, launching us up and over the berm of bodies. Marcus immediately backed up in the space we just vacated, while he cut the wheel. The big SUV turned hard to the left and waited for the BMW and remaining Suburban to take its place. The big SUV shot forward as Marcus changed gears. Martin’s SUV got hung up on the same pile of undead carnage as we had. Artie rammed the BMW gently but then mashed down on the gas, pushing the BMW over its grisly barrier. Marcus slid quickly in behind the Chevy SUV, following as close as he could.

  Our convoy made great time with our airborne guardian angels hovering over us, dealing permanent death to everything in our way. Moving forward, we also encountered six Hummers that were stationed along our route.

  The big SUVs looked just like ours, plow and all, with one exception. These were topped off with the same mini-gun as the helicopters above us.

  Connor vocalized what I was thinking, “That would have been handy, but wouldn’t have cleared the parking structure ceiling.” receiving agreement from all of us.

  Our saviors in the Hummers were encased in high-tech helmets with polarized face masks, gloves, as well as body armor over ballistic-looking jackets. It gave them an off-world appearance. As we got closer, each driver positioned their vehicles in front, beside or behind us. The Humvee gunners used their minis to keep us clear of unwanted company, while the helicopters circled, assisting where needed.

  Even with the windows up, the combined noise from six to eight – six barrel miniguns was deafening. Knowing these electrically driven guns could chew through 2,000 to 6,000 rounds a minute, I figured the choppers and the SUVs must be loaded to the gills with extra ammo. Even the near constant fire from these guns they barely kept the surge of undead from overwhelming us. As fast as the undead dropped, more took their place.

  My newly acquired tactical skills noted that Georges in this quantity moved faster and more deliberately than they did as individuals or in small groups. I tucked this tidbit of information away for further study when I wasn’t in deathly peril.

  The second to last vehicle did not join us immediately. The top gunner and front and back passengers on the right side of the vehicle were busy dealing with a large group of Hunters that roared out from between two buildings on the right side of the street. The minigunners weren't going for headshots, they were trying to slow down, or incapacitate their targets, leaving any necessary kill shots to the passengers with rifles.

  The situation looked to be turning in the Gunners’ favor, when one especially large Hunter, wearing only a Boston Celtics jersey, launched itself high into the air off the backs of a pair of its injured comrades. The monster gained enough altitude to be well above the Humvee gunner, who was trying desperately to get their gun into play. A quick burst from one of the helicopter gunners pulped the zombie mid-flight, covering the Humvee, as well as the top gunner and passengers in black gore and body parts. The top gunner gave their airborne counterpart a dripping, carnage encrusted, but very enthusiastic thumbs up for the save, as the big SUV rocketed forward to join the end of our convoy.

  A half mile ahead of us the road was blocked from one side of the street to the other by multiple truck trailers, vehicles, and whatever else was available. The blockage did not resemble the chaotic accident scenes of those trying to escape the zombie onslaught. This barricade was hastily but purposely built to contain, or keep something out. Connor slowed as he approached, falling behind the lead vehicles.

  Over the din of the almost constant firing, the radio screamed at us, “Drive faster! Follow the lead vehicles! Get on his ass NOW! Don’t stop for anything!

  Connor quickly pulled within inches of the lead Hummer and followed it towards the barrier.

  When it appeared that the lead Hummer was about to hit the barrier, part of it opened up! We shot through an opening barely wider than our SUV. We followed our escort for another city block before they turned left as a tall gate slid open to allow us access.

  “Keep going straight, do not follow your escort!” said the male voice over the radio.

  Connor shook his head, and said, “Are you sure you aren’t the friggin’ President, or something?” as we looked at the large waterfront warehouse to our right.

  The metal gate slammed closed behind us as the Humvee with the new Hunter-entrails paint job passed the threshold.

  I smiled at Connor as I watched our airborne escort peel off and disappear over the large warehouse.

  “Hey, I’m just along for the ride back to Tucson. Would you like to go back to the Davron building?”

  With just a whisper of a smile, George Cho said, “That would be very difficult and very unwise; the building collapsed just after our help arrived. I would have said something earlier, but both of you were kind of preoccupied.”

  We both craned our necks around to see if we could pick out where the building used to be on the Boston skyline, but our view was blocked by a wall and the neighboring buildings.

  Our attention returned to the radio as it beeped and spoke, this time in the same pleasant female voice from the second message.

  “Please pull forward to the orange cones, then stop and shut off your vehicles.

  You are all subject to mandatory quarantine protocols, please do not exit your vehicle until instructed to do so. A failure to comply could lead to serious repercussions.

  Thank you for your patience.”

  Our escort vehicles peeled off to the right and disappeared behind the same warehouse as the helicopters did. Four new Hummers replaced our departing saviors, though I felt less safe since their .50 caliber machine guns were pointed at us, as were a dozen or so, heavily armed people all dressed like the members of our escort team.

  The female voice continued,
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  “Would the passengers in H1 please leave all your weapons in the vehicle and exit to your right. Please follow the blue line to the containment waiting area.”

  I felt the cold presence I associated with Myers go icy hot, mixing with a feeling of trepidation as I removed all my weapons and handed them to George to put in the back of the SUV. I felt more naked and exposed than when I first entered the elevator after being rescued by Martin.

  We followed the blue line on the concrete into a room created out of chain link. As we passed the threshold, a chain link door closed behind us. The poles in opposing corners went well above the chain link ceiling and had large video cameras mounted on them.

  Nikki huddled next to Connor, his hand, and arm looking bigger than it already was on Nikki’s thin shoulder. George Cho, Jennifer Carter and the other Davron employees I hadn’t been introduced to sat together on the long metal bench on the right side of the enclosure. The left side of the enclosure had what appeared to be a series of seat belts with shoulder harnesses bolted to two horizontal poles.

  I heard someone approaching the far side of our enclosure long before the others. A woman of medium height, with blonde hair, pulled back in an aggressively tight ponytail, walked towards the inside gate. It was hard to gauge her age at the moment. She was wearing an open, white labcoat over black military fatigues, body armor, and black combat boots. A small MP5-varient machine gun on a sling hung under her left arm, and a Glock 9mm is holstered on her right hip.

  She smiled as my party noticed her approach.

  “Hello, My name is Diana Leeds, I’m the director of this facility. Please understand your quarantine will only be long enough to know you are not infected.”

  This was definitely the female voice from the radio.

  Greg stood, ““Madame, this is Boston in February, and none of us are really dressed for the weather. Wouldn’t a simple blood test suffice? I’m sure all of us here would be willing to submit to one if it lessened our time outside.”

  I held my breath in fear of having to submit to a blood test.

  Diana nodded “Hello Dr. Cho, I’m very pleased to see you made it out of Davron successfully. I will have some space heaters placed around the area. I’m sorry this wasn’t thought of earlier. Yes, a blood test would do well, but this is a temporary facility. We have neither the time nor the equipment necessary to test it. With a maturation period as short as that of the Charon-Z Virus, simply waiting for an hour will more than suffice.”

  I asked in sarcastically stunned voice, “This nightmare has a freaking name?”

  Diana replied, “Yes, I didn’t come up with it, this virus has been around for a very long time, but not in this configuration. But that is not really important right now. Let’s get you all cleared and into the warehouse. It’s safe, warm, and we have food, hot showers, and beds. Could you all please step over to the restraints and belt yourself in?” as she pointed to the other chain link wall.

  I’m numb with the implications of what Diana just said, as I buckled myself into the harness on autopilot.

  The Charon-Z Virus was a man-made monstrosity. Some God-damn scientists with more brains than common-fucking-sense created this horror show. Why! Probably just so they could show it off to their mad scientist friends. Like the kid that shows up at the playground with firecrackers then blows his fucking hand off! Because of these asshats, I will never be anything close to normal again!

  I’m so angry and upset I want to break out of the restraints and leave. At least if I had become a Hunter or George none of this would have mattered to me. But I’m different, I’m not human, but I’m not a zombie either. I’m unique, which is just another word for “freak” and “alone.” I felt the bile rise in my throat, but I forced it back down. It would be really hard to explain why I coughed up a stomach’s worth of black fucking blood, now wouldn’t it? Maybe that was just what I needed to do. A couple bullets to the head, and no more Ashleigh the freak! My skin felt hot as icy tears stream unchecked down my face. Hanging my head low, I use the restraints for support.

  Approximately 10 minutes later we hear a commotion from a holding area behind us. A woman screams, and a man shouts, then we hear the moan. A sound that can only mean one thing, someone has turned. The moan gets louder, stopping abruptly, replaced by the quiet sobs of the woman who had been screaming. We all look to other for visual comfort. I hear Connor saying the Lord’s Prayer under his breath. The despair, disappointment, and intensity of the situation left me drained. I feel like an empty shell. I close my eyes, hanging my head again.

  32

  I must have dozed off. I’m startled awake by a low-frequency alarm and multiple yellow strobe lights in various locations, along with the sounds of automatic weapons fire coming from the front of the complex. Diana appeared as if out of thin air, unlocking her side of the cage. She ran to us, quickly opening our restraints.

  “We need to hurry! The outer wall has been breached! Damn! I was hoping we’d have more time! After freeing all of us, she says, “Follow me, quickly!” as she heads back the way she came.

  We hurry down a narrow, roofless corridor between two of the chain link containment areas which spill into a small, open courtyard-like area next to the warehouse. The sounds of gunfire increases as someone lets loose with a mini-gun that is quickly joined by a couple .50 cal. machine guns, and a lot more small arms fire. All this gunfire makes us move even faster.

  Diana was standing at a large table loaded down with weapons, our weapons! I quickly found my M4 and Beretta, but my machete is missing. I could smell the antiseptic cleaner all over my gear.

  I explain, “My machete is missing.”

  Grimacing, she apologizes, “Sorry, Decon for edged weapons is running behind today. I’ll have it brought to you after we get inside.”

  I checked everything and reseated magazines before I put it all back in its correct place.

  Putting things away, I find myself looking at Diana more deeply this time. She appears to be in her 30s. Her green eyes sparkle, almost as if they were touched with gold. She has a sharp but very feminine jawline. She obviously works out, her Battle Dress Uniform is fitted and accentuates her body nicely, especially her righteously fine ass...

  I shock myself out of my ogling as I realize I’m actually attracted to her! As in I want to have sex with her! A silent “Aw Crap!” was all I could muster when I grasp that the collective memories, skills, and apparently desires of two heterosexual MEN are now my cerebral roommates!

  Just fucking great! I wasn’t bad enough I have to snack on nasty, undead motherfuckers to live, now it appears I might have switched sides!

  I’d experimented in college, kissed a girl here, grabbed a boob or ass there, but never wanted a girlfriend for sex. As if my life needed to be any more complicated, I have to add the redefinition of my sexuality to the mix? Well, who knows, Christian might be pleasantly surprised if I told him I was into girls too.

  After a few deep breaths, I find myself craving a couple ice cold beers to take the edge off…

  I close my eyes, determined not to cry – again! I like wine; red, whites, blushes, all of them. I hate beer (or used to hate beer) from the first sip I took on a dare at 15. I thought it was friggin nasty. I never touched another one after that. With an exasperated mental sigh, I embraced the fact that I still seemed to have a fondness for fermented grapes, as well as beer, as a small victory that at least some of the old Ashleigh remained.

  Diana and I both turn to see Martin, Marcus, and many of the members of our group being lead down the same path by a man dressed similarly to Diana, minus the lab coat. He is wiry, with an unruly mop of hair, but is very serious looking. I instantly assign the name “Angry Ichabod” to him.

  I hug Martin fiercely as he got within my range, earning me a grunt of surprise. Pulling out of my embrace and smiling, he exclaims, “Now I know how Nikki felt in the elevator.”

  Looking left, I found myself face to face with a beaming Marc
us. “Hey there pretty lady, glad to see you’re okay.”

  I hugged him too, and replied, “Thanks, Marcus, glad to see you too.”

  We both jump as we hear multiple screams from the quarantine area. Diana, radio to her ear, shouts, “Let’s go, people, we need to move!”

  We follow her to a metal door with a keypad set into the wall next to it. Diana keys in the code as two Hunters appear on the roof of one of the larger containment cages.

  Both monsters locked onto us and roar with anticipation as they head our way. Four more Hunters quickly join the first two, all looking to make us into their next meal. Many people are still crammed into the small corridor, as well as the courtyard. I know the Hunters will be on us well before everyone is through the door.

  Diana rips the door open, herding people through as the Hunters continued their advance. The lead Hunter leaps from the chain link roof onto the back of a very overweight man in a Davron golf shirt, driving him to the ground. As the Hunter tears into him, he screams, “Please kill me, I don’t want to be one of them!” I bring my M4 up and sight in on him, as the Hunter continues its grim work.

  Our eyes lock, and he mouths “Thank you.” I pulled the trigger, purposely continuing to look at him as tears course down my face. I instantly felt like I had done this before, to someone else, a long time ago in Germany.

  I shook the thought away as a second, smaller Hunter joins the first one, receiving a powerful backhand to the face as it tries to feed.

  Diana whispers what I’m thinking, “Huh, they have an Alpha feeding hierarchy.” She then announces loudly, “Get inside, once the door is closed, they can’t get in!”

  I ignore her offer to enter the warehouse. Raising my M4 again, I begin sniping the approaching Hunters to buy us more time. The feeding Alpha Hunter barely registers the multiple hits to its chest but drops instantly as a round passed through its left eye. The rebuffed Beta lunges for the corpse, proceeding to gorge itself but is quickly dropped by a headshot from Angry Ichabod.