Dead Hunger: The Flex Sheridan Chronicle

by Eric A. Shelman

We got out of the Suburban and Gem scooped up Trina and carried her in her arms. We relegated the dog to the vehicle for the time being – there was not much sense in having her running around in her condition, not sure exactly what might come around the next bend.

  There were no abnormals around – at least not yet – so we felt relatively safe, what with the tremendous firepower we’d obtained, now strapped across our shoulders. Gem, holding Trina, had settled for the Glock tucked into her waistband, her precious Uzi left behind for the time being.

  The door looked secure. The camera was there as Hemp said it would be, and we all looked up at it and waved our arms. Gem had had an idea for a sign, which we made in the truck before coming out. It said:

  UNINFECTED.

  NEED HELP!

  I had a black Sharpie in the glove compartment and we’d used the inside cover of the old Suburban’s maintenance record book. It wasn’t that big, but it should do it if anyone was inside to read it. While we realized it would be clear we were not one of them, we wanted to stress the point that we were well aware of them.

  “Do you hear that?” I asked.

  Everyone was quiet for a moment. “Yes. Sounds like a generator,” said Hemp.

  “Then somebody’s alive?” Gem said.

  “Here’s hoping.” I pounded on the door, and we stood back and looked again at the camera. I thrust the sign right in front of the camera again.

  An intercom clicked. “Dr. Chatsworth, is that you?”

  Hemp’s eyes brightened. “Uh, yes, it is. Who is that, please?”

  “It’s Max, Dr. Chats – I mean, Max Romero!”

  “Max, God it’s good to hear your voice. Can you allow us to come in? What’s the situation inside?”

  “Jesus, Dr. Chatsworth. I can’t tell you how happy I am you’re here. I’m . . . well, I’m locked inside one of the labs right now. Some of our people were infected, and I barely made it in here. Jesus, Dr. Franklin Lang – or what used to be Dr. Lang – attacked me. And what the hell was that noise? About ten minutes ago I heard a loud rumbling sound and the ground actually shook beneath my feet!”

  Gem spoke up. “A passenger plane crashed outside and slid into your building number one. It was an enormous explosion.”

  “Jesus. I was on the phone with Dr. Snipes and Dr. Wilder. They were in building one working on some documentation. I guess they’re . . .”

  “They’re gone, I’m afraid,” said Gem. “That building is rubble, and what’s not destroyed is burning. I’m sorry.”

  The smoke was beginning to build where we stood, and it was getting thick and hard to breathe. There was a light breeze blowing the smoke and fumes in our direction, and along with the wind created by the fire itself, I knew we couldn’t stay out here for long. I tried to be tolerant as Hemp got a feel for the landscape of things.

  Hemp looked at us and shook his head. “They weren’t exactly friends, but I did work closely with Dr. Lang. He was an excellent scientist. Max, do you have control of the door switch from there?”

  “Yes, Dr. Chatsworth, I can buzz the door from here, but you have to be careful. I see you’ve got weapons, and that’s good, because at this point, I have no idea what you’ll find in the unsecured areas of the building.”

  “What of the EIS staff?” Hemp asked. He turned to us and said “Epidemic Intelligence Service. These are the ones to get busy when a new threat appears.” He looked again at the camera. “Have any of them been able to initiate an analysis of this?”

  I was getting impatient. “I hate to interrupt Hemp, but would you mind if he buzzes us in? We’re pretty exposed out here.”

  Gem spoke up. “Flex, we’d better get as much information as we can before we go inside. Hemp’s talking to him now, but once we gain access, we have no idea what we’re going to run into or if we’ll ever get to him at all.” She looked up at the camera and shrugged. “Sorry, Max, but there’s no guarantee we’ll make it to you or that you’ll be alive if and when we do get there.”

  “I understand,” Max said. “What else can I tell you, Dr. Chatsworth?”

  “Can you tell me if the abnormals – that’s what we’re calling them for the time being – are concentrated or more prevalent in a particular area of the building? So we can avoid it if possible?”

  The click came again. “This started yesterday evening,” said Max. “I was having some dinner in the cafeteria, and it seemed as though after some initial complaints about headaches – severe, migraine-type headaches from what I understand – those who had them just dropped. Like they passed out. When they got back up, they’d . . . well, they’d just changed. Eyes, skin, motor skills.”

  “That fast,” said Hemp. “Reminds me of what I saw in the Tallahassee police station. I’d seen some of them farther along outside, which is why I went in for help. But inside the police station, everything was chaos. I went in for help, and ended up . . . well, you know.”

  Max came on again. “Two of the cafeteria staff attacked Dr. Hanzek, and I sat there holding a sandwich in the back of the room, not sure what was happening. Then I saw they were trying to eat him, and he was screaming. But Dr. Chatsworth, they weren’t just trying. They were eating him.”

  Max spoke rapidly, and I felt for him. He was the first uninfected we’d come across, and this is what we were all feeling. A sense of dread and confusion about what was happening to the world as we had known it.

  “I just got up and ran. That’s when I almost collided with Dr. Lang, who looked the same as the others. I didn’t notice at first, I was so in shock from what had just happened. I started to say something to him, but it was clear he was gone. He grabbed my shirt and I tried to pull his arm off me, and his skin . . . it was mushy or something. His eyes were vapid, nothing there, but I got the impression he could still see me. I was able to fight my way free of him, and I just ran in here and activated the lock.”

  Hemp looked worried. “Max, how long has the generator been running?”

  Click. “About sixteen hours now. But it feeds from multiple huge underground LP tanks, so it can literally run for a couple of weeks.”

  “Good,” Hemp said. “If it shuts down, the door locks release. Max, when’s the last time you heard noise from outside the lab where you are?”

  “Not since about six hours ago. There’s a small refrigerator in here, so I’ve got some food and water, but no weapons. I wasn’t willing to venture outside here and check the status.”

  I spoke. “There’s evidence that some of the abnormals made it outside, but we don’t know where they came from. Hemp? Do you think you have everything you need for now?”

  He nodded. “Yes, I believe so. Max, we’re going to come in now, so activate the lock release. Which lab are you in? We’ll try to get to you first.”

  “Second level, lab 202. I don’t think I’d recommend taking the elevator. You won’t know what you’ll be facing when the doors open, but I’ll leave that to you. Top of the stairs, right hallway, 2nd door on the left.”

  “Okay, hit it. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”

  The solenoid hummed and the bolt retracted. We pulled the door open and went inside.