“You know what you have to do, Verna.” It was that guy, Kyle, the soldier.
What was he talking about? Harley’s fear heightened to full alarm. She’d thought that the drugs Dr. White gave her had lessened the suffering, but a sudden wave of pain tore through her heart, and her stomach seized in agony. If she could have opened her mouth and screamed, she knew her voice would sound like zombies wailing. In this moment of ungodly angst, she understood why their cries were so intense.
“Do it now. We have to get out of here,” Kyle’s voice continued.
Do what now? Harley didn’t know what they had in mind, but somehow, she sensed this could mean only one thing.
They were going to kill her, and there was nothing she could do but lie here and listen to them as they did it. Harley heard rustling clothing and the hollow clink of plastic against plastic. Her bed wobbled as bodies shifted around her, bumping into the sides. Two small pops sounded, and it triggered recognition. Someone had uncapped syringes. Her heart thumped faster in her chest, causing sharp stabs at her temples with each pulse. An overpowering chemical scent filled the air, turning her stomach as it mingled with the faint bouquet of salt and sweat. Several pings of warm wetness landed on her arm. Casey’s tears?
What are you doing, Casey? Her self-talk was more resigned in tone than frantic. She understood that pleading was pointless, but a tiny grain of hope remained. Please, don’t. I want another chance.
Harley felt a tug on the line attached to her IV port, sending a neurological shock across the back of her hand as the needle shifted. The snap of a needle puncturing a rubber membrane, and the noise of fluid coursing fast through a tiny opening sounded loud in her ears. In seconds, the cold sting of a new chemical seeped into Harley’s veins. Her body responded almost immediately. The muddy blood coursing through her began to slow down, and her breathing relaxed. A drunken sort of haze dulled her mind. The prick of a second needle popped and spewed forth something. Something…
“We’ve got to go now.” Kyle’s voice was muted and remote.
The overwhelming stench of the place began to fade. Harley’s muscles seemed to relax at a deeper level than she’d ever felt. Cells themselves loosened, and their regular pulsations of life slowed. The beeping monitor beside Harley’s bed flittered and then emitted a long, continuous beep. Another shot out an alert tone.
“We can’t just leave all of these people here,” Casey’s voice reverberated in the air and dissipated in Harley’s fading consciousness.
“There’s nothing we can do for any of them if we don’t get out of here alive.”
Harley thought it was Kyle’s voice, but he sounded so far away. She wondered faintly what he meant by that. Why were her friends afraid, when she was the one dying? Isn’t that what this was?
***
Harley felt Casey near her side, but she couldn’t smell her the way she did before. Instead, Harley was merely aware of her friend. It was more of a knowing than sensing or feeling.
With an odd popping sensation, Harley felt a jolt, as if she’d been pulled out of her restraints and tossed into the air. Suddenly, she could see! It made no sense because she knew her eyes weren’t open. Her body felt unsteady, floaty. It undulated, drifting on the ether like an inflatable mat on a lake. A rising sensation like weightlessness engulfed her, and the ceiling tiles drew closer and closer. Instinctively, she braced for the impact, but then she just stopped moving. Her being was so light. She was weightless, like air.
This must be death.
No longer corporeal, she had become pure essence, and yet, she could somehow see and hear and turn her attention wherever she wanted. Where her body had once been was a floating field of energy. She was aware of a nebulous form, but nothing of her former self was visible. She thought about Casey, and instantly, her perception turned toward the floor, and she gazed with wonder on the scene below.
Casey was standing there beside the bed. Her face was the saddest Harley had ever seen her. All around her wafted a gray, misty cloud of grief and despair. Harley marveled at the way she just seemed to glean understanding from what she saw. It made no sense, but she felt as if the knowledge flowed through her.
So that must be an aura. Guess those are real, after all.
Harley moved closer to the bed and looked down.
Is that me?
Harley’s corpse was still restrained on the hospital bed, and she realized she wouldn’t have recognized herself if not for her unnaturally bright magenta hair.
Her body was a wreck, but Harley found herself chuckling in spite of it. Her parents had hated the hair color, but right now, she realized it was clearly her best feature.
I don’t know what the style norm is in the zombie realm, but I’m pretty sure I’ve got the vibe down.
She continued gazing down at her lifeless shell on the hospital bed. Oozing sores covered her body, and what little unblemished flesh that remained had turned a putrid, greenish-gray.
I’m not gonna lie, I’m kind of proud that my snakebite piercings are hanging in there. Again, Harley laughed to herself. Two black, hinged rings were still visible and intact at the corners of her bottom lip. Her upper lip showed advanced signs of decomposition, and the tip of her tongue had slipped through a gaping tear in her cheek.
“What now?” Verna Hoffstedder asked, interrupting Harley’s spirit’s musings. The nurse looked tired and haggard. Dark circles undergirded the bags beneath her bloodshot eyes. Harley noticed the cloud around the woman was thick and murky with fear and worry.
Kyle placed a hand on Mrs. Hoffstedder’s shoulder. “We’ll find the back door and get out of here,” he said. “When I was on patrol, I saw utility trucks parked at the rear of the restricted area. They’re the same ones they use to collect the bodies of the tranquilized zombies. We should be able to exit through the backside of the compound,” Kyle continued. “I’ve seen the trucks going in and out of here, and there has to be another gate in the back.”
The misty cloud around Kyle pulsed with golden energy. Harley sensed strength and courage exuding from him. He looked at Casey, and shades of vibrant green with blue flashes formed around him. Harley continued focusing on Kyle’s aura. Maybe it was altruism or protectiveness, but she wasn’t sure. I still think he likes her.
After paying their respects, Casey, the nurse, Kyle, and Jordan hurried out of the room and ran down the hallway. Harley floated out behind them. They flung open the door and ran outside as Harley hovered above them and looked around the area.
They were inside an enclosed compound. All around them, the gurgling, raspy breathing of zombies punctuated the night air, and the undead began to wail. Screams erupted from what seemed like a multitude of cages lined up on the grounds. The closest zombies appeared to have set off a domino effect of screeching yells as each row of cages joined the shouting in rapid succession.
Jordan, Casey, Kyle, and Mrs. Hoffstedder ran down a path between two rows of cages. As far as Harley could see to her right and left, the enclosures were full of writhing bodies clamoring over each other. Arms flailed from between the bars. Some were bashing their fists against their cages with such fury that bits and pieces of their hands and fingers broke off and flopped to the ground. Mouths frothed with fetid saliva in a shameless, wanton display of gluttonous lust.
Harley watched her friends run past the cages, and it struck her as odd that she felt only mild concern for their welfare. She calmly observed as the beasts grabbed at them from within the pens.
Her concern for Casey and the others felt more like a preference, than fear for their safety. Perhaps all dead people felt this way. They probably looked upon the living, shaking their heads and wanting things to be better, but feeling no motivation to intervene, peaceful and resigned to whatever came.
It must be because I have no pain here. I’m not worried about time or place. Floating around at will was divine, and, so far, it was Harley’s assessment that death was highly underrated when compared to life a
s a zombie.
Harley drifted downward to ground level and looked into the faces of the poor tortured souls in various stages of decomposition and disease. One near her repeatedly threw himself against the side of his cage, trying to break free. The auras surrounding some of the bodies appeared vacant and thoughtless, while others were shrouded in hunger and pain. A male bashed his arm against the bars. It broke away from its socket with a sickening snap and hit the grass with a thud. A jet of thick, black blood gushed from his shoulder. It didn’t faze him, but Harley was secretly glad she’d lost the ability to smell. As she hovered in the air before the undead man, the bodily fluid spray splattered right through her.
In an instant, as the stream passed across her ethereal body, she absorbed information from his blood and plasma. The awareness infused itself into Harley’s consciousness, and she knew his human name was Joe, a factory worker who was worried about his wife. He was insane with pain and so confused. He didn’t know what became of his love. Harley almost shuddered as she learned his heart was breaking because he didn’t know whether or not he’d killed and eaten his wife.
Thank goodness I’m just dead. That could have been me if I’d survived.
Ahead of her, Casey stopped and was looking at a zombie that still showed evidence of having been a woman in life. Possibly a doctor or nurse, judging from the torn scrubs and lab coat she wore. The figure was sitting in its cage watching my friend, and I could sense overwhelming anger and disgust radiating out from her. She sniffed the air around Casey, and, unlike others, she didn’t appear to care about the delectable aroma of roasted chicken that Harley understood she must surely smell. Instead, Harley sensed an overwhelming hatred festering in the woman’s heart. It seemed deeply personal, but Harley couldn’t understand why she might feel that way, or why it appeared directed toward Casey.
Why wasn’t Casey running away from her?
“Did you see that?” Casey asked Kyle. “It stared me down!”
“Yeah, I did,” Kyle answered. His hand tightened around the stock of his rifle. “The smart ones scare me more than the stupid ones. I saw a few like that before, when I was hiding out in downtown Ft. Wayne.”
“Weird how it singled me out like that,” Casey whispered.
“Let’s keep moving,” Kyle told her. He grabbed Casey’s arm and pulled her onward.
For no apparent reason she could fathom, Harley felt a rush of confusion and murderous contempt. This time, the rage wasn’t coming from the zombie watching Casey, but rather, it drifted from somewhere behind Harley. As she watched her friends moving away, she sensed an advancing, undefined threat. She shifted her awareness all around her to see where it was coming from.
Behind her were several buildings in the compound, and beyond the triage unit was a solid wall, with a metal gate. An electrical hum split the air, and its panels parted. As they opened, dozens of armed soldiers raced through the gap. Some were barking orders, and others lunged to the ground and assumed sniper positions on the soil.
They were going to kill her friends!
It was strange to Harley, seeing them in such danger and realizing that she wasn’t especially concerned. It was nice to know they’d be joining her soon, in fact. At least she hoped they would. She wasn’t sure, but she seemed to be alone here, and it miffed her a little.
To be frank, I mean, you hear about people crossing over and their deceased loved ones coming to meet them with open arms. Why didn’t anybody come for me? Maybe that means my parents and siblings are still alive and had somehow escaped this Hell on Earth.
“They’re coming after us!” Casey yelled.
Her voice brought Harley’s attention back to the display before her. Casey had grabbed Mrs. Hoffstedder’s hand and appeared to be trying to make her move faster. They were running toward military vehicles at the back of the compound, but the soldiers were quickly gaining ground. Gunfire rang out in the night, and Nurse Hoffstedder fell to her knees.
Was that some kind of dart she was hit with? One of the snipers on the grass emanated satisfaction with his aim.
“Kyle! Help me!” Casey screamed, her voice splintered with panic. Kyle ran to her and lifted the nurse onto his shoulders. They both took off, sprinting toward the row of trucks.
Kyle screamed at Casey, “Run!” His aura was one of determined focus, and concern for her safety.
Interesting. Kyle looks more worried about Casey than the others.
Gunfire sounded again and again, and all around them, tranquilizer darts whistled through the air, some of them fell inches short of their targets and landed in the dirt.
Realization struck Harley like a lightning bolt. The soldiers weren’t trying to kill them. They were going to tranquilize them.
They’re going to experiment on them and dissect them like they planned to do to me!
A surprising wave of anger washed over her. She became aware that two snipers to her right, both wearing night-vision goggles, had locked aim onto Casey. They were going to hit her. Harley watched Casey and saw that she had drawn her rifle to her shoulder and was aiming at one of the snipers.
Casey squeezed the trigger, and a dart whistled through the air and stabbed the one on the left in the neck. The beast collapsed where it stood. The other one lunged forward, and Harley sensed he planned a better shot. The soldier aimed, and somehow Harley knew Casey would be hit. She was defenseless down that field, disadvantaged by the darkness, as she struggled to reload her weapon. It appeared to be jammed. Harley couldn’t let him shoot her friend. She wanted more than anything for this man to fail.
If only I could fire a weapon, but like the zombie blood, whatever I touch will float through me.
The thought made Harley even angrier, and she scowled at the soldier with searing, murderous rage. Just behind him, she saw a dart on the grass and stared at it, wishing she could stab it into his back. Unbelievably, it began to rise, as if her thoughts alone caused it to move. Harley didn’t stop to ponder the miracle of her new-found power and focused on propelling the dart through the air. It jetted through the night and hit the soldier’s back with such force that it buried itself in his lung. His body jerked and fell to its knees. He lost consciousness, slumping forward into the mud.
Harley turned to see Casey disappearing into the night. A giddy excitement rippled through her.
I can help them!
Understanding gushed into her mind, and she felt she had renewed purpose. She could keep them safe! Willing herself to follow them, her essence rose into the air.
Harley sped forward but then slammed into something hard. Searing pain shot through her head and chest. Opening her eyes, she couldn’t see anything before her. She reached out but felt nothing.
What’s happening? Is there some kind of afterlife fence? Am I on a leash? And why do I feel pain? I’m dead, right?
A force pulled at her. It was as if her essence was being sucked away, and she was being drawn backward in space and time.
Chapter 3
Harley
A hard jab slammed into Harley’s thigh, followed by stinging pain. In seconds, she felt her heart pounding erratically, thumping so hard she could feel it fluttering in her chest. Rippling voices drifted into her awareness. Anger, cursing and complaining. One voice struck terror into her heart. She knew that voice…Dr. White!
“Get more Epinephrine in here, stat!” he yelled. “This one isn’t getting away from me. We’ve come too far with the research.”
Harley’s senses reeled, and she felt as if she were being dragged in reverse by unseen hands. Horrible, heavy thrusts pounded on her chest, rousing her from the peace of death. She fought against the invisible force with all her will, but it was no use. The familiar fire she’d felt in the hospital bed now returned, burning her veins. The sensation of millions of tiny fangs biting into the boils on her arms and legs tortured her once more.
A strange, rubbing sound filled the air. “Clear!” Smith’s voice yelled.
Cold, hard
paddles slammed down onto Harley’s chest, and an electric shock reverberated through her body, causing it to jerk and bounce on the bed.
Please! No! Harley screamed inside her mind. I want to be dead. It’s better being dead.
Harley felt her eyelids flutter open, and Dr. White stood over her, holding a syringe. He stabbed it into her leg.
Smith hit his arm and yanked the syringe out of Harley’s thigh. “You fool!” she snarled. “No more Epinephrine. You damage brain! They need brain.”
Harley’s lungs expanded of their own accord.
“Well, hello, princess,” Dr. White sneered, noticing the teen was awake. “You won’t be needing this anymore.” He grasped the oxygen mask and removed it from her face. In one swift jerk, he pulled the ventilator’s tube from her throat, causing her to choke and gag.
Harley struggled to process what was happening to her. A blood-curdling wail filled the silence, and she realized it was coming from her own mouth. The sheer volume of her sonorous bellow surprised her. It was so much like the wail of zombies, she knew in her heart that her transformation was nearing completion.
Dr. White’s crazed face loomed above her, and Harley tried to focus. It was hard. Overpowering hunger dominated her mind, and the doctor’s head smelled so good.
“What are you doing to me?” Harley yelled as she jerked at her restraints. A sudden wave of nausea washed over her. She retched, sending a spray of vomit down the front of her hospital gown.
“Not to worry,” Dr. White said in a patronizing tone. “Epinephrine sometimes causes nausea. I had to revive you after that stunt your friends tried to pull.”
“Revive me? What the hell for? Why can’t you just let me die?” Harley screamed. “I was at peace, damn it!”
“So sorry,” Dr. Smith’s voice sounded at the door.
Harley turned to see her standing in the entry with a uniformed soldier wearing so much brass he had to be an officer. Rows of insignia adorned his chest like little multi-colored Chicklets against the dark green fabric of his uniform. His face was a hostile scowl, and he held a tense grip on his sidearm.
The Viral Series (Book 2): Viral Storm Page 4