Machines of the Dead (2 page)

Turning around, Derek saw Dr. Chan holding his nose and leaning against the doorframe. “You’re a tough little fucker, aren’t you?”

Holding both arms out, shaking his head, Chan said, “no, no, no.” Blood covered the man’s face, his broken, twisted nose, still gushing like a burst water main. The little man turned to run, but Derek was on him in a second. He was suddenly hungry, starving in fact. Grabbing Chan’s head, he yanked it back, exposing Chan’s neck. Derek brought his face down and sunk his teeth into the scientist’s Adam’s apple, tearing it free. He tossed Chan’s body to the ground like the dead weight it was and chewed.

As soon as he swallowed the meat, he wanted to throw up. Leaning over, Derek gagged, but nothing came up. Anger then coursed through him. What had these people done to him?

He needed to escape. 

Turning back to the dead guard, Derek searched the corpse, finding a
Taser
strapped to his hip, a wallet with no cash, and attached to an extend-a-cord was the keycard Derek had seen numerous employees use to access doors. He unclipped the card, stuffed the
Taser
into the back of his pants, and left the room.

He ran down the hall, the way
he had
originally come, and came to a locked door. Using the keycard, he swiped the piece of plastic through the card reader and heard the door unlock. He grabbed the handle and pulled the door
open
.

Another hall lay before him and he didn’t hesitate to sprint down it, passing a large window. Men in lab coats and a single guard
,
dressed in the all too familiar black fatigues, were in the room. Immediately
,
an alarm sounded, but Derek didn’t think it was from anyone in the lab. He remembered seeing cameras in the corners of
the hallways
and in certain rooms.
As he approached the elevator, he looked
up
and
saw
a camera
with
its cold eye staring at him.

He pressed the button for the elevator
and then
thought for a
moment;
e
levators were small, cramped. He didn’t like cramped spaces, especially when he was messed up in the head, which he clearly was now. Instead, he turned toward the exit leading to the stairwell, saw the card reader and used the keycard. The door unlocked and Derek pulled it open, ready to run up the stairs when a guard
stepped forward and
blocked his way.

“And where do you think you’re going?” the man asked, holding a baton and smiling.

Derek reached behind, pulled the
Taser
from his pants and shot the guard point blank. The guy went down fast, his body rigid and shaking. Unlike a stun gun
,
which
only
affects the part of the body it
is exposed to
, the
Taser
causes pain throughout the whole body, incapacitating the target completely.

Derek dropped the
Taser
and ran up the metal set of stairs. His stomach pained him, almost as if he hadn’t eaten for days.
He had
known hunger; living on the streets had brought him that sensation plenty of times.

Up and up he went. He was so caught up in trying to escape
,
he lost count of the flights. Had he climbed five or six? He wasn’t sure.
Finally,
he reached the top, coming to a small landing. Elevator doors sat to his right. On his left appeared to be a set of storm-cellar doors and another card reader
was
next to them. He knew he had reached the exit. Taking the keycard out, he swiped it through the card reader. A beep sounded, then the mechanics of working gears sounded and the doors were opening.

Below, he heard the hustle of boots on the steel stairs as the guards were coming after him. Derek bolted up the steps and found himself outside and in the alley where he was first propositioned to work for the pharmaceutical company. 

Derek
might have
been outside, but he was far from free. The men were right behind him and a solid steel gate eight feet in height, topped with curling barbed wire, stood at the end of the alley. A sharp, stabbing pain erupted in Derek’s gut. He doubled over, thinking
he had
been shot, but when his hand came away from the
area,
it was clean. When the pain
subsided,
he stood. His abdomen was fine
; it
was just hunger
that
he was feeling.

He took off running down the alley, hoping to reach the sidewalk, the public, before the men had a chance to capture him. He had no idea what those bastards did to him, but he’d fight it off like he’d fought off everything else in his life
,
well except for the drugs, which he could really use a hit of something strong right now.

Without slowing, Derek jumped up,
grabbed
the top of the steel gate, and pulled himself up and over it, ripping his outfit and cutting himself as he did so.

Standing on the busy sidewalk of Second Avenue bleeding, Derek watched as cars, mostly yellow cabs and delivery trucks, drove by. A few horns sounded when the car in the right lane didn’t move fast enough after the light had turned green. Derek had never been happier to hear the annoying sounds.

Pedestrians walked around him as if he wasn’t there; just another homeless guy out and about.
Nevertheless
,
he needed to get as far away from the area as possible. Those men might still be coming for him. And why wouldn’t they? Afraid of a scene? Although no longer the quintessential homeless man, he was
still
a homeless man, simply cleaned up a little and dressed in green overalls. If men in black fatigues grabbed him
,
who would care? Who would step in and do something? No one. He needed to keep moving.
Then
his stomach cramped up again, and he felt weak. About to fall forward, Derek grabbed onto a woman who was walking by him. She screamed and tried pushing him away, but anger coursed through him. It wasn’t right what
he had
gone through
,
and now this bitch was screaming at him, drawing attention to him. He grabbed her hand, brought it to his mouth and bit down. The woman howled in pain. She tried shaking Derek off, but he hung on like a dog
that was
playing tug-a-war with a knotted rope. Derek’s mouth flooded with the taste of iron as his teeth broke her skin.

Something large and heavy hit Derek from behind, knocking the
breath out of
him. The woman’s hand slipped from his mouth. He tried lunging at her, but couldn’t.
Someone was holding him
. Fearing it was a guard
,
he threw his head back and felt something crunch under the impact
;
he wasn’t going back down there
. A moment
later,
he was free. 

Turning around, he saw a man in a gray suit covering his nose with both hands, blood gushing from beneath them.
A
guard
had not
grabbed him
,
just a “good citizen” trying to help a woman in distress. Why had Derek attacked her? And why was he chewing the small amount of flesh in his mouth? Confused
,
he spit it out, his chin covered in glistening crimson.

From his right, behind the steel gate, Derek heard men’s voices. Shit
,
the guards were coming. He was so tired, running out of energy, but he needed to get as far away as possible. Blend in with the crowds of people walking the city sidewalks. If the men in black got him back down in that place,
he would
be experimented on
,
and they would inject him with more of that crap
again
.
Derek took off running toward 44th Street. 

He dodged citizens, most of them moving out of his way, reached the end of the block, and ran around the corner. He continued down 44th Street, running as if the Devil  were after him. About halfway down the block, he looked over his shoulder to see if the guards were chasing him and didn’t see a rotund man emerge from a store. Derek collided hard with the man, sending them both to the ground. Face to face, like two lovers, Derek stared at the man’s puffy red lips
—
like gummy worms made of meat. He lowered his face to the plump tissue, bit down, grasping both of the man’s lips, and began to pull with the ferocity of a lion standing over its prey. The jelly-like flesh stretched as the man howled.
Chunks of flesh came free with
a suction cup sound
.
Blood gushed from the man’s face, running into his mouth and over his cheeks. It was wrong to
do
what he was doing, but he needed to eat. He was so damn hungry.

People stood around, screaming and yelling for help. Derek seemed to come out of his frenzied state
.
Feeling
weak and terrified
, h
e jumped up,
and
a piece of lip
was
dangling from his mouth like a fisherman’s lure. Cell phones were pointed at him, recording his mug and the gruesome scene. He would be tonight’s headline on the news, the main story. Looking back the way
he had
come, Derek saw a large black shape cutting its way through the crowd
. It was the men in black fatigues, the guards
. Like one giant entity, they were coming for him. Spinning around, holding out his arms to part the surrounding crowd, Derek took off running down the street, listening to the cries of the man whose lips he had removed.

Chapter 3

“That’s the guy,” Jess shouted, leaning forward and pointing at the television screen.

She and
Jack had been
lying
on the couch, snuggled up like two high school sweethearts. Anger and fear now coursed through his veins at seeing the man’s face.

His wife, Jessica, had been on her way back from the gym when a man attacked her, biting her on the hand.
She had
called the police, then Jack. Not wanting to wait for the authorities to arrive, Jack called back, telling the 911 operator that he was taking his wife to the emergency room. There, Jess was given an injection of wide-range spectrum antibiotics to potentially take care of any disease her attacker might’ve passed on to her.

The police showed up and Jess gave her report of the
attack
. The police told her that the man was still at large, but that they were doing everything in their power to locate the individual and bring him in.

Now, sitting on the couch, Jack listened as the anchorwoman told the tale about the man. His name was Derek Mayfield
. He
had
been missing for over ten years
and was
wanted for questioning in the murder of his parents. Today, the man had appeared as if from out of nowhere on a city sidewalk on Second Avenue, between 43rd and 44th streets. From there
,
he went on a vicious rampage, biting and attacking people throughout the city. So
far,
two people were dead due to the injuries they sustained.

“Oh my God,” Jess said, bringing her right hand to her mouth.

“Come here,” Jack sai
d
gently,
and
pull
ed
her back to him. He wrapped his arms around her and gave her a gentle squeeze.

“I can’t believe he killed people,” Jess said, softly. “I could’ve been one of them.”

“Well, you weren’t. It was just the wrong place at the wrong time. Same for those others. A matter of chance.”

“But still
,
I could’ve been killed.”

“Don’t think like that. You’re a tough cookie. No woman of mine is going to let some crazy-ass dude take her down.” He squeezed her again and kissed her neck.

“Turn the channel; I don’t want to watch anymore.”

Jack picked up the remote and turned to another station.

“At least they got the guy; he won’t be hurting anyone else.”

“What if he had AIDS? Or TB?”

“The doctor told you the chances of him transmitting anything with such a small wound were basically zero. Plus, he gave you a shot to wipe out anything bad he might’ve had.”

Jess sighed. “You’re right. I’m worrying for nothing.”

“Hey, you had a tough day. Anyone, me included, would be nervous, on edge. But you’re fine and have nothing to worry about.”

“I’m drained. I think seeing that newscast wiped me out.”

“It’s been a long day
so
let’s go to bed.”