Chapter 16
The blue light burned bright, illuminating the smoke that rolled off of the source. Buzzing melded with the sound of sizzling bacon as the puddle of metal was moved with precision. A metallic river that froze instantly yet remained far too hot to touch. The weld was done with the perfection of a true craftsman.
Drawings of machinery flashed briefly in the blinding light of the arc. Chrome tools reflected the blue light from where they hung on the peg board wall. Bolts and chains lay at the ready on the wooden workbench.
A monstrosity of a machine sat several yards away. Its shining chrome grill glared with the ferocity of a tigress protecting her cubs. The dark silhouette of a semi cab stood firmly behind the chrome. The twenty-thousand pound behemoth roared to life and let out a bellowing war cry from the air horns.
The dream flashed by rapidly causing Jonathan to sit up in bed. The smell of hot metal, grease, and diesel exhaust filled his nostrils. The dream had made some sense to him. There would be similar dreams over the next couple of weeks. He was not sure what they meant, yet they gave him hope.
Chapter 17
As the next week passed, Jonathan became confident in going to the BCRC building, and he was ready to move. The books proved to hold no further clues that would help him stop or reverse what has been done. Guillermo, Deacon, and Roger volunteered to go with him even though he stated he was willing to go alone, and the most direct route to the BCRC lab was plotted. Emalynn and Sophia would stay behind with the children. They would carry on if the group doesn’t come back.
Jonathan wanted to travel light, so he took two Springfield XD nine millimeter handguns. They were holstered in his Blackhawk tactical vest along with eight loaded clips. He also carried a large hunting knife in a side pouch. After all the years of watching his father collect firearms, the day was finally here for Jonathan to be pleased with all the options he had.
“I think I’d like to borrow a gun or two, mate. Would that be alright?” Deacon stood in the center of what was now Jonathan’s room. “I’m strong and all,” he held up the fire axe he carried with him. “But this beast is far too heavy to swing for long periods of time.”
“Absolutely. Take what you need,” Jonathan nodded toward the gun safe. “I’ll let the others know they can grab some weapons also.”
“Thanks, mate,” Deacon rubbed his hands together as he caught a glimpse of the treasures in front of him. He took a Remington 870 express tactical shotgun and an ammo belt with plenty of spare shells. “This is too great,” He said to himself as he held the shotgun.
Guillermo and Roger each had their own opportunities to take what they wanted. They each chose an AR-15 and split the magazines and ammo. Guillermo fashioned a new lawnmower blade machete from the neighbors John Deere. While he was there, he picked up a large movie collection to keep the children entertained.
“Everyone should have a signature weapon,” Guillermo had told Jonathan when he showed his new lawnmower blade machete he fabricated from the neighbor’s John Deere. “Roger has his strange desk-leg-hook-thing that I named Dead Breaker.” Guillermo was still pleased about the name. “I have Kadavre, so you should think about your own signature piece.”
Jonathan smiled at the thought of a “signature weapon” like a super hero would have. Deep down he was still a kid, but he knew it was a bit much. “I will see what I can come up with,” he told Guillermo with a smile.
Since the day the group arrived at Jonathan’s home, Guillermo and Roger steered clear of each other. This wasn’t hard to accomplish as Roger spent most of his time in the small campsite that was his home. He also went out into the town several times a week. It was not clear what he was doing. He never brought anything back with him, and he only came back after everyone was asleep. Jonathan never saw Roger smile. In fact, Roger never showed any signs of emotion, and this made Jonathan uncomfortable.
After spending the next couple of hours making adjustments to vests and going over proper gun handling, they sat down to eat one final supper before setting out in the early morning. They ate in silence. This did not bother Jonathan, but he knew the chances of everyone coming back. He expected more discussion from the others.
It was only a few weeks, but not even months of planning could have prepared Jonathan for what he was going through mentally with the danger he was putting the others in. The night crept on slowly as he tossed and turned in his bed. What little sleep he managed was tormented by nightmares.
Demons emerged from every dark corner, blood dripping from their jaws. The shadowy figure of Death stood behind them with every move they made. Dark storm clouds surrounded them, the thunder roared hard enough to collapse their skulls. He watched as Guillermo, Deacon, Roger, and himself were torn asunder by the sharp claws of beasts and savages. The wind tore the flesh off of their bodies, and the acidic rain burned deep into muscle.
Jonathan sat up, wiped his eyes, and climbed out of bed. In the bathroom attached to his room, he wiped the sweat off of his face and chest with a towel. He stared into the mirror for an eternity, wondering if he should have a more formal plan. The deaths of these men could possibly be on his hands, but the more he tried to convince himself over the past week, the more he realized he could not succeed on his own.
Midnight passed and the new day took command over time. The tossing was beginning to wear Jonathan out. Guillermo had turned on them, shoving his lawnmower blade through Deacon’s neck. Roger raised his rifle to shoot, but the blade sliced through his abdomen. His insides spilled to the floor, his expression finally changed to that of surprise.
The quiet knock on the door sounded like an explosion in the silence of his room. He sat up quickly and looked around, trying to clear the blur from his eyes. His bed sat in its usual spot, but he was on the floor a few feet away. The blankets and sheets were scattered around the room. He would gladly take the cryptic dreams of welding and grinding over the nightmares.
The door opened slowly, dim light shined in from the hall. “Are you alright?” Emalynn asked. Her voice was soft and warm, and Jonathan felt knots in his stomach each time she spoke.
“Yeah, just a rough night I suppose.” He looked at the clock to see it was almost four in the morning. “Did I wake you?” Jonathan stood up and reached for the blanket as he realized he was still in his boxers. The other guys would be waking up soon. They would be leaving in a few hours.
“No, it was a rough night for me, too. I wanted to thank you for letting us stay here. Then I began to feel bad when I realized you had nobody to say goodbye to. You’ve done so much for us. I hope you know that.”
“Do not worry about it. Thanks though, for coming,” he said awkwardly. She smiled at him, causing his nerves to shatter. “I have a lot to do before we leave,” he said nervously. “I should probably get ready.”
“Oh, ok,” she sounded somewhat hurt. “Well thank you for everything. Good luck.”
Before he could say anything else she had closed the door on her way out. His arm outstretched in a failed attempt to stop her. No words came out of his mouth, yet he wanted so bad to say something else before she left. There was no response from his legs as he tried to run to the door. He just let her walk out and missed his chance to hold her close to him. It was too late now. He began to prepare.
Deacon and Guillermo were both waiting in the kitchen as Jonathan left his room. The sun had not risen yet, but its light was filling the sky. Sophia held onto Deacon tightly, he kissed her forehead and wiped the tears from her cheeks. Jonathan and Guillermo stepped outside to give them a few minutes alone. Roger was waiting by the gate.
“How is it looking out there?” Jonathan asked as he approached. The soft rustling of leaves could be heard, carried by the gentle breeze.
“A few fiends are moving about, but it’s pretty clear. Looks like luck may be on our side this morning.” Roger never took his eyes off the streets.
The two heard the car start in the garage. Deacon backed it out, turned around and drove toward them. Roger and Guillermo both climbed in the back of the car while Jonathan took the passenger seat. The four sat in the car in complete silence before Jonathan picked up the remote for the gate.
“Thank you guys…for coming along. I couldn’t do this without your help. You are, however, free to change your minds now and I won’t think any less of you,” Jonathan said while staring out the side window of the car.
“I have your back ‘til the end,” Guillermo confirmed. “As I know that Bradley will be watching over us.”
“Same here,” Deacon placed a hand on Jonathan’s shoulders.
The silence from Roger seemed to carry on before he too agreed that he was in this to see it through. He didn’t seem too convincing, though.
Jonathan held the remote for the gate in his hand, rolling it in his fingers. The thoughts of whether or not this was the right thing to do dominated him.
It was not too late to turn back
.
My father didn’t turn back.
He pressed the button firmly with his thumb.
“Probably should have oiled that, mate,” Deacon commented as the large gate clunked and rattled.
Jonathan panicked at the thought of blowing the plan due to a rusty gate. It had been over a year since it was opened. He neglected to even think about the gate as he planned this out. The BMW rolled through into the gentle light of the early morning. There were only a few fiends in sight. They may have been a block away, but they were making their way toward the group.
“Hurry up and shut the gate,” Guillermo urged.
“I pushed the button,” Jonathan said. He held the remote up so everyone could see as he pressed the button even harder.
“Ugh,” Guillermo sighed. “I know some brands of gates and garage doors need to open completely before they can shut. It is supposed to be a safety feature. What a stupid feature that turned out to be.”
The fiend stepped out away from the wall and pounded on the car window that Guillermo was looking out of. The short man was bloated. His gray skin was wrinkled in some spots and stretched in others. Each time he slammed his thick arms into the window his skin jiggled, a slimy liquid oozed out of gashes in his body. One eye was rolled back in his head.
Two more fiends approached. They seemed to come from out of nowhere as the group watched the fiends down the street. The closest of these fiends stood a little taller than the first. His short black hair was patchy, as most of it looked to have been ripped from his head. Half of his black tongue flopped around in his mouth where it had been bitten halfway through.
A tall black woman was the third fiend that reached the car. She punched wildly in an attempt to break through. Her long black hair was matted to her face, covering most of it. She turned to walk around the car, and Roger could see a large strip of her back had been ripped away, the skin hung down like an open flap.
None of them wanted to leave with the front gate wide open, but the sound of the gate stopping prompted Jonathan to press the button once more in hopes that it would close quickly. The fiends turned toward the house and began to move away from the car.
Guillermo was the first one out, driving Kadavre through the head of one of the men with all the force he could summon. His blade was stuck as the fiend toppled awkwardly to the ground. The two remaining fiends turned to him.
“You stay in the car and be ready to move,” Roger said to Deacon as he climbed out. He let the heavy desk leg slide through his hand, tightening his grip as the leather covered handle reached his palm.
Dead Breaker’s once whittled hook on the end had been carved away completely. In its place, a small stainless steel pipe had been driven through and sharpened at an angle. Resembling a large needle used for body piercing, the desk leg was now much more menacing.
With the gate halfway shut, and fiends moving through it, Roger held up Dead Breaker and swung at the woman. This weapon quickly found its target. The pipe pierced her fragile neck, severing the spine in the process. The woman dropped to the ground and began to convulse violently.
Roger stepped over her body and swung at the remaining fiend. Guillermo swung his own deadly weapon at the same time. Each weapon connected with the dead man’s head. Guillermo’s blade cut deep into the skull in the back of her head, while Roger’s sharpened pipe was driven through the eye. As the man collapsed to the ground, his brain oozed from both openings.
“The gate is shut, let’s go!” Jonathan ordered through his open window.
As they drove away, each of them looked back at the house. No one knew if they would be coming back or not. They knew before leaving that there was a chance they would be the one not coming home, and they accepted that. For the greater good of the world they would willingly die.
The Biological and Chemical Research Corporation building came into view over the rolling hills east of town. The parking lot appeared to be the final resting place of many of the employee’s automobiles. Most of the windows were broken out in what were surely attempts by survivors to take anything useful.
“When I first started at the news station I sent a news team out here to do a report on the cancer research they were doing here. I seem to remember this building only having four floors. Where is the fifth floor you told us about?” Roger asked.
“I’m also only counting four floors,” Deacon said.
“The building is designed in a way to hide the fifth floor from outsiders. Some low level employees don’t even know about it. I would not even know about it if it was not for my father’s reports. He was pretty strict when it came to the companies secrets, so he never even told me. The windows on each floor are offset to make the floors look taller than they really are,” Jonathan explained.
They rolled slowly through the parking lot toward the building. Blood stained the concrete in the front of the building, and the main entrance was open. The sun was just coming up over the hills. They were enveloped by the shadow cast by the building as they turned to pull up along the front of the building.
“Cops are already here,” Deacon laughed, pointing to the police cruiser parked in the front of the building.
“Poor bastards,” Jonathan said. “My father must have called them after he made his way out of the building.” The passenger side door was still open on the police cruiser. Dried blood was splattered up the door and all over the seat, but the body that once held that blood was now gone.