“Relax. Your eyes are matted shut.”
The unfamiliar voice caused the young man to panic. “Please don’t hurt me. We were just looking for supplies, I swear. Don’t make me go back out there. The sick will tear me apart.” He pushed himself away from Guillermo.
“I’m not here to hurt you. Relax. We just want to help,” Guillermo said in the most calming voice he could find.
“Shane? Do you remember me, Jonathan Sawyer?”
“Jonathan? How did you get here? It’s good to see someone else survived.” Shane Marshall sat up, yet he remained apprehensive. His voice was scratchy. He was tall, his short brown hair was messy, his lips were dry and cracked, and his overall appearance was unkempt.
Shane and Jonathan had gone to school together since kindergarten. He had played every sport the school or community offered, and although he picked on Jonathan from time to time, he often found himself asking for help with schoolwork to maintain his eligibility to play sports.
“Do you know where you are?” Jonathan took his hand and gave him a damp towelette from an MRE he had brought.
“Yeah, we’re in the science lab. We came here looking for supplies. Me and my family. I don’t think they made it, though.” Saying the last part out loud made him feel as though he had just swallowed a golf ball. He wiped his eyes with the wet towelette, partly to remove the crusty buildup, but also to hide the new tears.
“Here, take this, but drink slowly.” Jonathan handed him the rest of the MRE as soon as Shane could see again.
“Thanks.” Shane wasted no time with the warmer pack as he dug into the spaghetti and water.
“How long have you been in here?” Guillermo asked.
Shane took a big drink of the water to wash down the mouthful of food. “A day, maybe two. It’s hard to tell when you’ve been in a vent.”
“We have two others with us. We will all get out of this vent, and then we’ll get you to safety,” Guillermo added.
“Have you explored the vents much? Do you know how to get off of this floor?” Jonathan asked.
“Yeah, but I can’t find a safe way out. Every exit leads into a room filled with those sick people. The weird thing is there’s no way to reach any other floor’s vents. I tried making it down to the first floor,” Shane replied.
“Yeah, each floor probably has its own ventilation. Some of the labs up here are able to reach very low temperatures, so I am assuming we are just inside a cooling duct. Each room would have a separate cooling or heating system. Also, there is the risk of chemical vapors being mixed in the air ducts,” Jonathan explained although he wasn’t quite sure of that himself.
“So, we have to find a way out on this floor?” Guillermo asked. “Let’s just find where the ventilation system connects with the outside. That would put us on the roof, right?”
“The only lines that connect are too small,” Shane stated. “That was my first thought, also.”
“Those smaller ducts must connect directly to the cooling system then,” Jonathan said. “My father was able to escape through an air duct that led to the roof.”
“Yeah?” Shane jumped in before Jonathan could answer. “Well let’s find it!”
“Well,” Jonathan said calmly. “We should take a minute to think this through.”
Jonathan moved down the vent a few feet, lying down on his back. They would give Shane a chance to regain some of his strength, and then they would move along. He knew they couldn’t wait long, however, as he didn’t want to think about Roger and Deacon being surrounded by the fiends.
Chapter 19
Roger walked through the dark hallway with Deacon close behind. The two men grew increasingly more aware of the danger. The fiends could be heard lurking about in the labs as they passed, yet they never attacked.
“Something’s not right,” Roger pointed out. “They know we’re here. Why aren’t they coming for us?”
“There’s no way they’ve gotten smart on us, is there? I mean, maybe they’re waiting for something.” Deacon couldn’t shake the tension from his muscles.
“I don’t like this. Let’s find the others and get the hell out of here.” Roger moved toward the door that leads to the stairwell.
Deacon stepped through the doorway first while Roger watched the hall behind them. The bloody stairs no longer fazed either of them. After checking both below and above, Deacon whispered the all-clear, and the two moved up to the fourth floor.
“Looks pretty empty up here. Jon and Guillermo must be up one more, yeah?” Deacon shined his light slowly down the hall.
“They must be. Jonathan said the stairs to the fifth floor are behind the security desk.” Roger pointed to the door. “You want to take a quick look here to be sure?”
“Might as well. You wait here. I’ll walk down the hall real fast. Watch my back,” Deacon said in a loud whisper.
Roger nodded, backed up to the wall, and readied his AR-15. Many thoughts have circulated through his head over the past few months. More, even, over the last few weeks. He didn’t care for the person he had become.
After each shower, Roger stood facing the mirror, pondering who he was supposed to be. The blood on his hands could never be washed away. He saw it every time he looked. The mistakes he made would haunt him forever. He was a stubborn man, however, and he had no intentions of letting those mistakes affect the rest of his miserable life.
Lowering his weapon, Roger watched as Deacon moved further away. To let him die would be easy enough. Deacon didn’t deserve death though, nor did Bradley for that matter. Tyson had not even had a chance to live his life.
“What life would he have had, anyway?” Roger asked under his breath.
Inhaling deeply, Roger raised the rifle up. He did not want to be a murderer, but he had already walked down that path. He wondered if there would be a way back. With the AR-15 raised and held firmly against his shoulder, Roger prepared to fire.
Deacon had made it to the end of the hallway. Before he could turn to begin his walk back the single shot stopped him where he stood. He could feel something wet on his back. He wiped his fingers across the wet skin on the back of his neck. Looking at his hands he saw the blood. He felt for an exit wound on his chest, and then looked at the hole the bullet had made in the wall. It was two feet to his left, eye level, and he realized that it had not hit him.
Turning back down the hall, he saw Roger standing where he had left him, rifle raised. The two fiends that lay on the floor had not been there on the walk down. “What a shot, mate,” Deacon said as he looked down at the two bodies, each one missing most of its head.
“It looks like you have some brains on the back of your shirt there.” Roger pointed out as Deacon made it back to him.
“That’s gross. Help me get the big chunks off!” Deacon turned his back to Roger. Several pops sounded off in the distance. Both men stood quietly for several moments listening for the source, but they didn’t hear anything else.
The shrieks erupted from the door, echoing through the stairwell that led to the fifth floor. Roger froze in place, a chunk of brain he had picked off of Deacon’s back still in between his index finger and thumb. Deacon forgot completely about the mess as the sounds sent chills through his body.
“That must be our queue.” Deacon grabbed his shotgun while Roger pushed a new round into the magazine for his AR-15 to replace the one he had just used.
Shane had finished eating, wasting nothing in the meal. A little of the color had returned to his skin, but only slightly. He still appeared to be weak. Jonathan had handed him a 9mm Sig Sauer handgun he had packed as a backup sidearm.
The three had moved along in the direction that would put them closest to the stairs. What they had noticed, however, was that the closer they moved to that end of the building, the more fiends there were.
“This is not good,” Jonathan stated.
“We’re going to die,” Shane said in a whiny voice as he let his hands fall into his lap.
“Sounds good to me,” Guillermo said. “Then the two of you can wait there. I’ll come back in to find Bradley and Roger.”
The group moved steadily back to the far end of the building. Guillermo easily opened the access door, and they each climbed out onto a narrow support beam.
“Watch your step,” Guillermo cautioned. “The ceiling is just thin tiles. Stay on the beams. There’s a separate ventilation system over here.” He pointed to the duct that ran parallel to the one they just exited.
One loud creak came from the beam, causing them to freeze in place. Guillermo pointed at Jonathan, too afraid to talk, and motioned for him to move across to the next beam. He then motioned for Shane to move back away from them to distribute their weight.
The next creak came much louder this time. Before any of them had the chance to move to the other beams their combined weight caused the bolts to come free of the concrete. The narrow steel beam crashed down through the ceiling tiles.
Jonathan landed on the steel table. Pain shot through his back. Guillermo was lying on the floor next to him. Shane had fallen to the other side, slamming his right arm into the railing around the raised platform.
As Guillermo stood and brushed some of the dust from the tiles off his shirt, the realization hit him that they were back in the lab where the research on Sam’s body took place. He also realized that several fiends had moved in on them. Running on pure instinct, he pulled Jonathan off the table, helping him to his feet. Kicking the brake free on the small rubber wheels, he pushed the table down the ramp and into the way of the fiends.
Shane examined his arm after the initial shock wore off. A deep bruise was already darkening over most of his forearm where he had hit the rail. “I think my arm is broken,” he said as he gritted his teeth. With help, he climbed to his feet and took the Sig in his left hand.
The moans from the fiends in the lab were dreadful as they closed in on the three. The first one to make it around the table was a taller man. His blue flannel shirt was ripped open, revealing the large gash in his side. Most of his guts were missing; a section of his intestine hung out and looked like a dried umbilical cord.
In a panic, Shane fired four shots into the fiend’s chest before finally sending shards of skull and brain matter flying with a shot to the head. He turned to Jonathan and tried to give the “thumbs-up” with his right hand, but the pain was too much.
“Try not to waste ammo. A shot to the head is all you need. There is no telling how much ammo we will need to conserve to get out of here. Take your time and aim,” Jonathan said sternly.
“I know. I’ve taken ‘em down before,” Shane said sharply. “I’m just a little shaky.”
“There are only four. Save your bullets and let me take them out,” Guillermo ordered.
Guillermo stepped forward and took on the next fiend as he pushed his way past the table. Dried blood was caked onto his neck where it had been torn apart. The fiend’s deep gray eyes locked onto Guillermo as it let out a wet gurgle. What was left of his yellow teeth could be seen behind his dry lips.
The blade swiped down into the broken, outstretched arm of the fiend, sending it to the floor. Another step closer and Guillermo was able to connect with the hole in its neck. The fiend’s head fell toward its chest. Just under half of the neck held the head in place. It was not enough to keep the fiend on its feet, however, and it dropped to the floor.
Without waiting, Guillermo switched his strategy to a more offensive approach, and he went after the remaining two. Kadavre gleamed in what little sunlight filtered in from the other labs. He stepped past the table and twirled the blade once in his fingers.
The obese dead woman watched him as he moved. Jonathan recognized her as a secretary that worked for the BCRC. He remembered her being a very pleasant woman, and he felt awful about how terrible her death must have been. All he could think about was her pleading for her life through sobs as a coworker she had known for years tore into her flesh.
Her left eye was missing, along with most of that side of her face. Chunks of hair were missing, leaving only bloody patches on her scalp. The woman’s right arm had been almost completely stripped of the flesh and muscle. Only broken bones and enough muscle and tendons to hold them together remained.
Guillermo stepped close to her right side and swung the blade hard into her head. The heavy woman went down fast. Falling forward, she had landed on Guillermo’s leg, knocking him to the floor. With his leg pinned under her body, he swung the blade wildly at the remaining fiend to keep him back.
Jonathan ran to his aid, pushing hard into the side of the last fiend with both hands. The fiend was much lighter than Jonathan had expected. He flew several feet before slamming into a steel cabinet.
Turning his attention to Guillermo, Jonathan tried pulling his trapped leg out from under the heavy woman. With no luck, he started rocking the woman’s cold body back and forth until Guillermo’s leg finally came free.
As the last fiend picked himself off the floor, Guillermo drove the blade down hard to sever its head. Blood spurted up from the leathery skin of his neck. It resembled a fountain filled with stagnant black water with filmy chunks of fungus.
The shriek tore through the room before the three had the chance to evaluate their situation. Sam stood at the door; his small bloody body seemed frozen in time as the wretched sound poured from his mouth. The boy’s bottom jaw dropped down unnaturally far, allowing his chin to touch his boney chest.
Shane fired three rounds in quick succession toward the door, missing Sam with each shot. One round, however, managed to catch a fiend in the head as it moved into the doorway. This fiend was followed by another, causing Shane to empty his magazine without landing another good hit.
As Jonathan took the handgun from Shane and began replacing the magazine, several other fiends appeared behind Sam. Another guttural shriek erupted from the boy, this one was a cross between a high-pitched scream and a deep growl.
“Make every shot count. This may not end too well for us.” Jonathan handed the Sig back to Shane and unholstered his own Springfields. Guillermo put away his blade and readied his AR-15.
“At least you hooked me up with a decent last supper,” Shane said as he tried to find something humorous to help with the situation.
Sam was quickly lost in the sea of bodies as the fiends rushed into attack. The gunshots were deafening as round after round rocketed toward their targets. The soft dead flesh of the fiends did little to slow the hot lead.
Guillermo’s ears picked up on the much deeper blasts coming from the hall. Many of the fiends that had not come through the lab door had turned back into the hallway. “Who’s out there?” he yelled, but the gunshots and fiends were too loud for even him to hear what he said. The shotgun blasts had stopped, probably for the shooter to reload. Guillermo used this chance to try again. “Who’s out there?”
“Who the hell do you think, mate? How are you fellas doing in there? And where the hell are all these fiends coming from?” Deacon yelled back. “Move out here now!” he yelled as the firing stopped briefly once again.
Guillermo, Jonathan, and Shane ran through the door into the dark hallway. They could make out the other two by the stairs. Bodies lined the path, making it hard to move. Jonathan had tripped so many times he decided it would be easier to crawl through the sea of rotting flesh. Guillermo also had to walk on all fours to make it through. This also slowed down the fiends behind them.
Jonathan had to pull Shane down as Roger took a shot at him, mistaking him for a fiend. With his arms waving, Jonathan yelled: “Hold your fire. He is with us.”
“Stay low,” Roger shouted back as he began firing down the hall.
&
nbsp; Fiends poured from the labs behind them as they made their way toward Deacon and Roger. Flesh was torn from the dead bodies as each round ripped through them. Jonathan, Shane, and Guillermo crawled through the bodies quickly, finally making it to the end of the hall.
“I am glad you both made it,” Jonathan said as the five men met up at the end of the hallway. “Any luck finding anything useful?”
“Got a few things that may be useful. Now let’s all reload and hurry the hell outta here,” Deacon responded as he pushed new shells into the shotgun.
The security stairway proved to be harder going down then it was going up. Although they had acclimated to the smell, fiends now blocked the path. Guillermo and Roger shot their way forward while Deacon and Jonathan watched the rear. Shane kept in the middle, a little scared, and not quite sure what to do.
Out on the fourth floor more fiends emerged. To conserve ammunition, Guillermo pulled his blade, and Roger used Dead Breaker to take care of the smaller groups. More fiends blocked the stairwell leading down as they tried to move through the door. Once they forced their way inside, Jonathan and Deacon had to take turns shooting as the other reloaded. Fiends poured in through the doors for the third and fourth floors. Jonathan’s years of practice paid off as he was able to take them down with accuracy.
Deacon tripped over the body of a fiend Guillermo had taken out ahead of them, and he rolled down into Roger, knocking him down, also. Deacon apologized as he stood, reached his hand down to pull Roger to his feet. Before he could, however, a fiend reached up and grabbed Roger by the hair, pulling him down the stairs.
Guillermo jumped over the railing in between the third and second floors, landing in a crowd of fiends. He plunged the blade into the back of the fiend that had grabbed his companion. The fiend fell on top of Roger, who despite being hurt from the fall, shoved it off quickly and stood to help Guillermo. Guillermo swung his blade and kicked wildly to avoid the attacking fiends.
Decay | Book 1 | Civilization Page 18