by Amber Wyatt
“No, there will be soldiers waiting at the rear exit as well.”
“Where then? Those soldiers are going to clear this whole prison from top to bottom.”
“D block is the only way out. We will stop by the armory, pick up weapons and then head to D block. There is a locked off sanitation pump room there, that leads directly to the storm drain. Those things are huge, you could march a brass band down it, and it heads straight out under the highway to the coast.”
Lamoureux thought about it a while and then nodded.
“Good plan,” he looked at the front gate again and the pile of unmoving zombie corpses. There was no more shooting, just the loud music in the distance. “Well, good or not, it’s our only plan. Let’s get moving.”
The two men cracked open their doors cautiously, and then slowly exited the car, trying to point their pistols in all directions at the same time. They both eyed the zombies piled up on the front of the car with trepidation, wondering if they were going to suddenly wake up, full of horrible, undead life.
Nothing happened, and the two of them tiptoed up to the open front door, looked carefully inside, and then slipped in.
“Keep an eye out for any stragglers,” whispered Milea. Lamoureux nodded back and the two men moved silently through the deserted hallways with growing confidence, slowing at each corner, checking around it and then moving on. It was nerve-wracking and both men sweated heavily into their uniform shirts, but within minutes they were at the door to the armory.
Milea looked inside through the window of the counter, and checked it was empty before pulling out his set of master keys to open the door.
“Okay let’s get some carbines and as much ammo as we can carry,” Milea said over his shoulder as he stepped through the doorway and then he screamed as the zombie standing silently behind the door lunged at him, carrying him to the ground and knocking his pistol out of his hand. By pure chance he had thrown a forearm up into the thing’s throat as he fell, and he pushed it back desperately, shouting in fear as its bloody teeth snapped at his face from only a couple of inches away. Suddenly the zombie went limp on top of him and the jaws stopped gnashing. Milea saw that a metal spike had sprouted as if by magic from the zombie’s temple, and then suddenly Lamoureux and a prisoner in orange uniform were pulling the dead body off him. He recognized the prisoner immediately.
“Finkelstein,” he gasped, shuddering as he sat up and kicked his way free of the dead weight of the corpse.
“Afternoon, Warden,” Finkelstein grinned manically at Milea as he braced his foot against the zombie’s skull and pulled his shiv out with a grunt of effort. “But please call me Eric,” he rolled his eyes thoughtfully as he wiped the homemade dagger clean on the zombie’s shirt, “or Cutter.”
“Thank you… ah, Eric,” mumbled Milea. He was looking down at the zombie’s body. It had been the armorer, Charlie. The week before, Milea had signed the staff card congratulating Charlie and his wife on the birth of their second child.
“That’s ok, Warden. Glad you boys turned up. I been waiting in the closet 30 minutes for someone to come by and distract that thing.” Finkelstein made the shiv disappear up a sleeve. “Now let’s get us some guns and get the hell out of here.”
Lamoureux’s eyes widened and he exchanged an alarmed sideways glance with Milea. Finkelstein caught the look and laughed.
“Don’t you two worry. I only ever hurt the people that did wrong by me.” Finkelstein unhooked the keys from Charlie’s belt and started unlocking the weapons cabinets. “And besides, if you don’t mind my saying, Warden, you do kind of owe me one, what with me saving your life and all,” he nodded at the dead armorer on the floor. Finkelstein looked thoughtfully at the corpse again, then stepped quickly out of his orange prison suit and started cold-bloodedly stripping Charlie’s clothes from his still warm body. Lamoureux lunged forward but Milea put out an arm and stopped him, although his own jaw tightened in anger.
Finkelstein grunted in satisfaction as he tugged off the trousers and let the corpse’s leg thump on to the floor. He quickly pulled on the dead man’s trousers and sat down to put his own shoes back on. Charlie’s had been too big. “Once we all get out of here, it wouldn’t be too much to ask you to look the other way, would it now? And forget that you saw me walk away?” Finkelstein stood up, slipped into the shirt and buttoned it, tucking it into the trousers.
“There is better safety in numbers,” Milea said thoughtfully. Lamoureux looked meaningfully down at the pistol in his hand, but Milea shook his head. “You’re right, Eric. I do ‘owe you one’. We are all in this together until we get out of the prison.”
Finkelstein and Milea each slung an M4 carbine over their shoulder, grabbed boxes of bullets off the shelves and started filling empty magazines with them. Lamoureux opted for a shotgun from another cabinet, and started filling cartridge belts up with as many shotgun shells as he could. When the three of them emerged from the armory ten minutes later, each man also had a pistol at his belt and pouches stuffed with spare ammunition.
“Okay. We head to D block, then down through the pump room into the storm drain underneath the prison.” Milea whispered to the others. “I’ll go first. Eric, you come second, Lamoureux, you bring up the rear.”
“Wait a second,” Finkelstein paused, a thoughtful look on his face. “Why aren’t we heading out the front door. Wasn’t all that shooting I heard earlier, the cavalry arriving?”
Milea and Lamoureux looked at each other and Lamoureux started to speak but Finkelstein cut him off.
“They think you’re infected, don’t they?” he said bluntly, then laughed at the expressions on their faces as he saw he was right, but quickly cut himself off to look around and see if the laughter had attracted any zombies. The hallways remained empty and quiet. The only noise was the faint sound of music from the front gate.
“I bet those army boys have orders to shoot and kill everything in this prison,” Finkelstein continued more quietly, grinning at the other two. “That’s why you two are planning on sneaking out through the storm drain, instead of running out to greet them with open arms.”
“Yes. Unfortunately, your grasp of the situation is quite correct,” admitted Milea, remembering that the convict was an accountant or something. He was certainly not stupid. Lamoureux nodded unhappily in agreement, clutching his shotgun more firmly.
“Guess we’re all fugitives now then, aren’t we?” Finkelstein smiled. “The pump room beneath D block, I believe you said, Warden? Lead on.”
Chapter Twenty-Six
The Museum
J. Winnfield Aviation Museum, Fort Lauderdale. Quarantine Zone
“Here we are,” Hugh pointed at the sign by the side of the road saying ‘MUSEUM PARKING NEXT RIGHT TURN’. The two trucks slowed to a stop next to the chain link fence. Beyond it were two large hangars, a small control tower and a single runway. Even from the road they could see the devastated remains of the runway, which the army had deliberately cratered with explosives to prevent any aircraft from taking off.
“Is this it?” Behnke’s voice crackled over the radio. “I thought we were supposed to be going to a museum?”
“It’s an aviation museum,” Hugh picked up the handset and answered back. “The main exhibition hall is in the first hangar.” The tough-looking mechanic looked back at Wilkins. “This is the place. Let’s hope your guess is a good one.”
“It is, don’t worry,” replied the Englishman. Hugh just nodded. Wilkins had already been through his reasoning with the rest of the group. His grandfather had started documenting the Lyssavirus as soon as the very first cases had started surfacing in the news. The museum had been one of the sites he had identified as a potential location for the chest.
From the driver’s seat of the second truck, Behnke looked out through his dusty windows at the surrounding buildings. They were all industrial warehouses with empty, fenced off compounds surrounding them. The few office buildings in sight all had their wind
ows boarded over, as if for an impending hurricane. The area had obviously been abandoned for years.
“Where is everyone?” he asked Hana, who was sat behind him with Gina.
“We call this part of town ‘Zombieville’,” she answered, scanning the buildings on each side. “There were a lot of outbreaks here in the early days. But that’s not why the place is abandoned. When the quarantine zone was imposed, it basically killed off the entire local manufacturing industry overnight.” Hana waved a hand around at the empty buildings around them. “Remember, nothing leaves the zone, nothing can be shipped out. So there was no point in making anything anymore.”
“Are there still zombies here now? In Zombieville, I mean. Like at the farm and at the plane crash?” Gina asked, looking at the hangars ahead.
“That’s a good question,” Hana looked around. “Zombieville was never properly cleared, because it was abandoned very early on, before the latest clean-up protocols. So there might well still be zombies up here, because there’s never been anyone around to report them. We don’t seem to have attracted any attention so far, but I think the area is still dangerous. We should keep our guard up at all times.”
Behnke grinned. Dumb bitch has no idea what she’s talking about. There aren’t any zombies around. If there were, they would have come out and chased the trucks while we spent the last ten minutes driving round the block looking for this stupid museum. Besides, like she just said, the whole area was abandoned. No people, means nobody around to get turned into zombies, right? As far as he was concerned, this was a zero-risk opportunity to just pretend it was dangerous and act fearless in front of the cameras.
Reminded of the need to play the hero, Behnke pulled his shoulders back and puffed out his chest a little, before glanced over to check that Rob was filming him. He was gratified to see the shiny, black eye of the camera following his every move. Tristan, used to being the star of his own show, had needed constant reminding to point the camera at Behnke. Rob, however, had spent ten years running, jumping and climbing around the world with Tristan, all whilst simultaneously filming the other man. Keeping his camera locked on to someone else was an instinctive reflex to him, and he could virtually do it in his sleep.
“Let’s park up in front of the main reception lobby,” Hugh’s voice came over the radio. His truck moved off in front of them and Behnke shifted into gear and followed him.
“Your boyfriend is a take-charge kind of guy, isn’t he?” Gina smiled at Hana.
Hana rolled her eyes at the other woman, causing Gina’s smile to grow wider. He’s not my boyfriend, Hana thought to herself, and yet despite the danger, he still insisted on coming along to protect me. She thought back to the blazing row she had had with Hugh after the near disaster at Darwin’s Farm. He had tried to persuade her to just break the contract and abandon the expedition: “Behnke is loose cannon. The man is a goddamn liability! He could have killed all of us today.” Hugh had kept his voice low so that the others could not overhear them, but his eyes bored into hers burning with anger. “Whatever he is paying you is not worth it. Let’s just get out of here, Hana, and leave them to it. This is going to end badly, and pretty soon people are going to start dying. I don’t want one of them to be you or me.”
“I am not going to break this contract, and I am taking this group up to the crash site tomorrow morning.” She gave him a sharp look. “And aren’t you doing this for the money too? If it’s not enough for you, I won’t hold it against you if you don’t come with us.”
“You really think I came because of the money?” Hugh had asked incredulously. He looked stricken, as if she had slapped him, and she felt guilty. Of course she knew that he had come because of her.
“Well that’s why I’m here,” Hana said firmly. “I’m a businesswoman and this is my business.”
Hugh gave her a long, intense look and her gaze nearly faltered, but she forced herself to stare him directly in the eyes. Idiot. Who does he think he is, that he can tell me what to do?
“Then I’ll stay with you until we get to the end of this circus,” he said finally. “Someone needs to watch your back.” He had shaken his head sadly, then quickly turned and walked away before she had a chance to reply.
Hana had nearly called him back then, but what could she have said? I can’t tell him about Behnke blackmailing me, because then I will have to tell him what I did to Takumi. Much to her own surprise she realized that Hugh’s opinion of her mattered a great deal to her. Maybe I do like him… a little bit at least. But what would he think of me if he knew what I have done to Takumi? If he knew what kind of monster I really am. Would he still like me then?
The two trucks pulled into the dusty car park in front of the museum with the crunching noise of grit grinding under their heavy tires. Hana got her rifle into a position ready to exit the truck, and checked that the safety catch was on. Time to focus, she thought to herself. Maybe if we both get out of this alive, I might consider some kind of relationship with Hugh. But we both need to concentrate on surviving this expedition first.
She stole a glance to her side at Gina, who was looking out of her window, and was reminded how the younger woman’s life had been destroyed all those years ago, because she had fallen in love and gotten pregnant. Her lips twisted sourly as she thought about how her mother had been right. ‘True love’ was just a fairy tale that always ended in tears. Who knows, Hana thought. She might even be happy with Hugh and they would both make it work for a while. But one day she would just end up burying him under the backyard next to her husband.
“Now this is what I thought the whole quarantine zone was going to look like.” Gina said quietly, looking out at the museum car park. As if in ironic contrast to their grim mood, the sun blazed down out of a clear, bright blue sky. Leaves were piled up against the curb by the wind, and everywhere around the carpark weeds, scrubby bushes and even some small saplings were sprouting through cracks in the concrete. Hana wondered how much longer it would take for mother nature to reclaim her territory, back from a greedy and uncaring humanity who had occupied it for only a few short years. In Florida’s tropical climate, it would not take long for the entire district to become overgrown. There was surprisingly little trash, but she supposed that made sense. There were no people around left to litter. Two cars abandoned in the corner of the car park were unrecognizable, covered in a thick layer of dust. She could not even tell what color they had been.
The group dismounted from the trucks and spread out warily, weapons ready, but muzzles pointing down at the ground as they walked towards the front of the building. As they got closer Hana realized that she had never truly appreciated how large aircraft hangars really were. The metal wall in front of her must have been at least a hundred feet high.
“So where do we start looking?” Behnke asked, breaking into her thoughts. “We should find our way to the offices and see if they have any records of exhibits arriving at the time of the outbreak.”
Hana looked at him, eyebrows raised in surprise. That was actually quite a good idea. I guess he cannot be a complete moron if he built up his business empire so quickly. Pity he didn’t bother to develop a personality at the same time.
“Locked,” remarked Hugh, pointing ahead of them and drawing their attention to the padlocked chain that wound around the handles of the front door. “Wait a second.” He walked back to the truck and rummaged around in the boot before reappearing around the side with some heavy bolt-cutters. “Want to give it a try?” Hugh held the bolt-cutters out to Thomas who took them with a nod. In the big man’s hands, the cutters looked like a child’s toy.
“Hold the chain up for me please,” Thomas asked Wilkins. He looked over his shoulder at the others. “Cover us.” Everyone else raised their weapons, ready in case any zombies appeared. Wilkins obligingly held up the chain while Thomas fitted the teeth of the cutters around it. Then, seemingly without effort, with one shrug of his massive shoulders he clipped neatly through the thick steel li
nks. Wilkins carefully and quietly let the chain hang down against the door.
“No need to be quiet.” Thomas said to him. He turned back to the others. “If there are any zombies in there, it’s better that we face them out here. If I draw their attention, we can shoot them as they come out through the door. Agreed?”
Hana looked left and right at Gina and Hugh. They both nodded and re-adjusted their grip on their weapons.
“Come on, just do it!” called out Behnke, before throwing a winning grin at Rob. Then Hana realized that he was not actually looking at Rob, but at his helmet camera. Its small, glowing red LED indicated that it was on and filming. “I’m ready for anything that comes out that door.” Behnke winked at the camera and held his gun up in a way that also allowed him to fully flex his steroid-inflated bicep.
“Jesus Christ,” muttered Gina under her breath, looking at Behnke and shaking her head. She was amazed that Rob didn’t react at all, but just continued to film in stony-faced silence. She realized that she had not heard Rob speak at all, not one word, since Tristan’s death the day before. Then her attention was drawn by Thomas pulling the chain off the door, and she dutifully raised her weapon into a firing position, as did all the others.
Thomas opened the door, drew a deep breath into his lungs, leaned inside and bellowed a deafening, “HELLO! IS ANYBODY THERE?” Then, with his gun aimed at the door, he quickly backed up until he was level with the others.
“Let’s give it a minute to see if there is any reaction. That should have been loud enough to hear throughout the hangar.” Thomas said calmly.
Fucking hell. They probably heard that in Miami, thought Hana. Her eye did not shift from its aim through her scope at the doorway, and her ears strained to hear any movement from inside. Despite the cool, morning breeze, she could feel a little bead of sweat on the side of her face. At her side Hugh was as motionless as a statue cast in bronze, his weapon also aimed unwaveringly at the open doorway, and she felt a little smile steal across her lips. It felt good to know that his dependable presence was right there next to her.