Contaminated: A Zombie Survival Novel (13 page)

Only one reason, and of course, it was bad. This would be the ideal floor to set explosives on if you wanted to take out the major systems and cripple the facility. Frank tilted his flashlight down and two hands reached up, grabbing his shoulders. His chest was pulled against some jagged pieces of rebar and he felt the breath knocked out of him. He struggled to reach for his FNP as a black tongue licked its lips in anticipation. Frank brought the gun around and blasted the thing in the face.

He felt the coolness of whatever was inside these things hit his hands and shivered. If he had any doubts about them being dead, they evaporated.

“Everything okay, Frank?” Lightfoot called out.

“I’m fine, one of those things was in here, caught me by surprise. I’ll be right back.”

“See, I told you there was another one on the loose,” Carson said, the smugness in his voice made Frank clench his teeth.

Instead, he kept his mouth shut and enjoyed the wide-open space in front of him. He glanced around at the damage of what used to be one of the launch tubes for the missile, but was now an empty spot they used to run wires and cables from the lower levels to the top. They designed it this way so that in case of an emergency, all systems would be backed up for a time.

From the looks of it, whoever did this was aware of the extra cables purpose and destroyed them. Someone who was not a member of the silo community. Someone who didn’t want the data to survive. Three repelling ropes dangled in the air. He checked the other two – empty.

Another hole similar to the one he hung out of could be seen lower down, flickers of light illuminated small parts of the darkness.

Frank pushed himself up and picked at the vent remnants beside him, it hadn’t exploded outward as he assumed. The metal bent inwards. The explosion was planned, though he wasn’t surprised. He also realized someone arranged it so if something happened elsewhere in the silo, various other explosions would be triggered. He caught sight of the front of his gear and grimaced. He rubbed off as much of the dead flesh as he could.

Frank walked back to the remaining two members of his team and sprinted to the exit door. He was so full of piss and vinegar it was going to take more than a pressure plate to kill him now.

Someone wanted him and his men not to succeed, something he didn’t like. Frank Monroe didn’t fail.

Chapter 10 –

Arthur screwed the flashlight attachment to the end of his XM-25 then helped Smith when he saw her struggling. Dixon didn’t look good, and if Arthur didn’t know better, he’d swear he was wearing a different mask. Then again, the light was non-existent, so he blamed his suspicion on stress and eyes playing tricks.

He walked over to the door that would take them into what Dixon called the “last stand” room. If breached, this place meant doom for those below. He pushed it open a tad and then closed it quickly.

“Holy crap, we’re going to need more grenades, but on a good note, the emergency lighting is working in there,” Arthur said.

“That’s not good, because in the dark we stood a chance of hiding, but if they can see us, we’re screwed.” Dixon slammed a locker.

Arthur cleared his throat. “I don’t think they see us so much as smell us. That film over their eyes is thick enough to obstruct vision.”

“Whatever, geek. Why don’t we do what we did before and just take them down one at a time?” Benson asked reasonably.

Arthur didn’t like the fact Benson’s attitude had changed since the incident in the office. The way he acted now didn’t mesh with the situation they were in. Part of Arthur’s mind went to the spy novels he loved to read, and he imagined a secret group parachuting into the compound and cracking heads to rescue their man. Arthur knew it was ridiculous, but then again, so was the idea of people reanimating after death.

“We can’t do it that way, because last time there were a third of the number we’re dealing with now, and they weren’t wearing helmets,” Dixon said roughly.

Arthur wracked his brain to come up with a way out of their situation. Smith fidgeted with her gun and Arthur followed the beam as he tried to come up with a solution. The trail of light ended on the back of Dixon’s suit and he saw a bright red spot – from underneath. Snakes slithered in his stomach as he realized the big man might have been bitten.

“Hey, Dixon, how are you feeling? Was it hard clearing this room on your own?” Arthur asked as he moved closer.

“Fine, no proble--” Dixon fell to his knees and ripped off his mask.

Arthur watched as blood dribbled, then poured out of the man’s mouth and nose. His skin paled and turned a greenish black color making him look more like a cadaver in the low light of the beam.

Benson came out of nowhere and grabbed Dixon, forcing the big man to stand.

“Come on, help me get him to his feet and out that door,” Benson struggled to get the words out as he strained himself with Dixon’s body weight.

Arthur and Smith stared at him unmoving, shock clearly written on their faces.

“Damn it, this is the only way we are going to get out of here, and we only have seconds to do it,” Benson yelled.

Smith moved to help him. Between the two, they got Dixon to the door and opened it. Arthur grabbed the pack off the big man’s back and watched him fall into the room. As suspected, the contaminated went for Dixon, the smell of blood intoxicating them. Their moans more than sealed that detail in Arthur’s head. They came over and clawed at Dixon’s convulsing body, shredding the suit in seconds. Arthur stared into the eyes of Dixon, and pure hatred looked back.

Smith started to laugh, one of those hysterical ones, so Arthur grabbed her as they went to the side of the room and fired shots at the ones nearest them. Smith’s aim improved and she managed to put a bullet in the direct center of one’s face and caused its head to blow apart like something long dead and rotten.

Benson followed close behind, but as usual did nothing to help. Arthur didn’t have the time to care. Dixon’s body had been consumed by the mob and now they turned blood soaked faces in his direction.

They let out pained sounding groans and Arthur tossed a grenade, pulling Smith with him as they made a run for it. The few they passed were too slow to catch them. The concussive blast of the explosion knocked all three of them on the ground. Like below, fingers, hands, and a few leg bits flew everywhere.

With ringing ears, and severe disorientation, Arthur tried to force himself to focus. He grabbed the hand next to his and pulled, gagging when he realized it wasn’t attached to anything. Dark tendrils of rotten sinew and muscle dripped a rancid smelling substance.

Arthur closed his eyes and shook his head. Seconds counted. Smith was a foot to his left, and roaming around on her hands and knees. One of the contaminated fell on its knees to feast on her, and Arthur grabbed the Baby Eagle and pulled the trigger. Then he repeated the process two more times before his coordination returned and he killed the one tearing into Smith’s calf.

He stood and grabbed her as the mob found them once again. The bodies of the others, both whole and broken, caused some to trip and fall. When they reached the exit, Arthur was annoyed, but not surprised to find Benson there.

“Thanks for the help,” Arthur snapped.

“Whatever, I ain’t your babysitter. In fact, he’s dead now, so you better watch your back.”

Arthur took a moment to catch his breath in the hallway, but saw the door starting to open. “Crap, come on, move up, we gotta go.”

“What’s the next floor? Dixon was the only one who knew what to expect,” Smith said in a shaky voice.

“Don’t worry, it’s just a storage floor. I bet we don’t even run into anything up there,” Arthur soothed her. Though he didn’t know why he cared, the bitch had helped Benson toss Dixon out. Arthur would never forget those hate filled eyes, and wondered if Dixon was even infected. The thought of an innocent man dying so they could live nauseated him, but the fact the big man vomited up blood was a good indicator something was wrong with him.

When they reached the door, Arthur wanted to take a break and sort out the chaotic thoughts in his head, but the sounds of shuffling feet and moans pushed him on. “I’ll go in first, keep your eyes open, okay? And remember, we still might find some survivors,”

“Right, and after that we’ll all live happily ever after,” Benson said in a sarcasm-laced voice.

“You know what, screw you, Benson!” Arthur yelled as he lunged for the other man.

“Hey, enough, both of you. We need to go in that room whether we want to or not.” Smith pointed down, and Arthur saw over two dozen contaminated climbing the stairs.

He sighed, pulled out Dixon’s Sig, and opened the door. He did a sweep of the room with the flashlight. Wires hung from what looked to be a shredded ceiling. Arthur would’ve sworn the explosion, or whatever happened, occurred in this room. Chunks of concrete lay on the floor from holes blasted in the walls – from the outside. Electricity was non-existent, not even a flicker.

Both Arthur and Smith scanned the immediate area and found one former employee eating someone in a suit similar to theirs. The body on the floor was surrounded by a pool of blood and the contaminated digging into the body`s stomach wasn’t even fazed by their presence. Arthur put a burst through both their heads, and moved toward a portion of what used to be a wall, but was now just a gaping hole. He looked up, then down, realizing whoever did this had a plan. Arthur just hadn’t figured out what it was.

He listened to the large empty space and nothing out of the ordinary floated his way. A few levels above them he saw the barest glimmer of light, but no other signs of life. He thought about calling out, but decided against it in case Benson got through to the people he was working for. Arthur figured Benson was a traitor, if that was possible when you worked for a corporation that stuck you in a fancy underground missile silo where they performed illegal testing. Arthur wasn’t a drinker, but at the moment he wanted a shot of something.

Smith came up to him, a fearful look in her eyes snapping him out of his reverie. “We need to keep moving before we run these filters down.” She showed him the back of her suit, fifty-six minutes remaining.

Arthur nodded and started to move, when he noticed several crates and barrels with odd symbols on the labels. They were small in size, only about a foot square, but every warning known to man was stamped on them.

“Just give me a few minutes to look at these. We might find some useful information about this place or what happened,” Arthur said as he made his way over to the nearest crate.

The top was pried open and he pushed it off. Inside were rocks, but not just any rocks according to the packing invoice. These were from Mars. He shone his flashlight on several labels and saw crates with Moon, Saturn, and Venus, stenciled on them in block lettering.

He salivated at being in the same room as so many samples from around the galaxy. He wanted to open all of them, but knew it would be impossible. Instead, he grabbed a crow bar and opened as many as he could in a frenzy ignoring Smith’s pleas to keep moving. From each one Arthur took a labeled sample and put it in one of the packs he wore.

Something hit him in the back, at first he thought it was Benson, but when he saw the man was standing across from him with a smirk on his face. Arthur panicked and he screamed for help, but Benson just waved goodbye and walked toward the exit.

Smith was trying to pull the contaminated off him, but she was too small. The pile of boxes Arthur was leaning against gave way and he fell in a tumble with the thing on top of him. He felt something pinch at the back of his neck and prayed his suit hadn’t been compromised. After seeing what happened to Dixon, he didn’t want to meet the same fate.

He rolled over, taking the body on top with him. Their positions reversed, Arthur sat atop it and stabbed it in the eye with a piece of broken wood from one of the fallen crates. The contaminated stopped struggling as black liquid bubbled out of the punctured orb. Arthur wondered who the person was. They were dressed in a dark uniform of some kind, but he didn’t want to get too close. As for the body on the floor, more questions swirled in his head as to why they were in protective gear, unless it was protocol for this level.

“Can we get out of here now?” Smith asked impatiently.

Arthur stood and made sure to grab both backpacks. Smith led the way, and when they arrived at the exit, Benson wasn’t there, which Arthur expected. To be honest, he was happy, Benson couldn’t be trusted and the further away from them he was, the better.

If Dixon was right, the next level was where they kept all the information on larger servers and mainframes. This was also where the booby traps and other intruder deterrents started. Arthur wondered if it might be safe to call out for help now that Benson was gone, but he knew deep down, there was no such thing as safe anymore. Even if they managed to survive, he doubted they’d be released.

Arthur noted forty-eight minutes left on Smith’s suit and he knew there was no time to waste. He plastered a smile on his face, exited into the stairwell, and headed up. Even if they were kept as prisoners, it was better than dying in this place.

***

Marshall watched the progress of the two teams with interest. Covington was doing better than Monroe was. Then again, the doctor had not come up against any of the security precautions – yet.

His phone rang and he hit the speaker button. “What is it?”

“
Sir, we thought you’d like to know we have a way to communicate with our people. It’s rudimentary, but the best we can do
,” a nasally voice said.

“Spit it out,” Marshall ordered.

“
We can use the inconsistency with the lights to our advantage and send a message via Morse code
.”

“Do it, let’s hope our people are smart enough to pick up on it before it’s too late. Start sending one now, ‘play nice with the others until otherwise notified.’”

“
Yes, sir.
”

“Be ready for a new one on my order.” Marshall turned off the speaker and watched the monitors.