Authors: S. A. Lusher
It was obvious the creature had been unhappy about its entrapment. There were piles of crates down there, a lot of them were dented or broken open. It was also obvious that it hadn't originally been alone down here. What were three to six bodies spread out across the area. Crushed limbs, smashed torsos, and a great deal of blood littered the metal floor. The lights overhead flickered.
“
Holy shit.” Greg coughed. “This is really nasty.”
“
Yeah...let's find that part and get the hell out of here.” Kyra covered her nose.
They worked quickly, praying that the part they were looking for hadn't been ruined in the creature's fit of rage. Silence passed in segments of bloody misery. Greg was ready to take a break topside, (and maybe throw up), when Kyra found the crate they were looking for.
“Is it broken?” Cage stopped looking and turned to her.
“
The crate seems undamaged. Let's get it upstairs and open it.” She tugged at the crate.
They piled back onto the lift and hurried back to the communications room. Greg stepped outside, took a deep breath and tried not to vomit. The rain and cool air were soothing, but the nearby burning corpse wasn't. They'd poured another canister of fuel over the enormous body and lit it aflame before heading downstairs.
“Got it!” Kyra called.
Greg’s mood brightened considerably and he headed back into the main building. He passed Cage on the way out. The sniper pulled out a cigarette. Greg considered asking for one, decided against it and joined Kyra in the comms room.
“It works?”
Kyra crouched down over the crate, in the middle of the floor, staring at a small piece of equipment.
“I assume so. It looks fine. It should be easy to install. We might be talking with someone in ten minutes.”
“
All right, great. Mind if I hang around while you work?”
“
No. Doesn't bother me.”
Greg took a seat on the rolling swivel chair, scooting back to give Kyra room to work while she slipped behind a larger piece of equipment and began the installation process. Greg remained silent for several moments, thinking about the brief kiss Kyra had given him right before their encounter with the beast.
What did it mean? Was it just a spur-of-the-moment thing? Was it suggestive of a potential deeper relationship? Was he blowing something tiny and meaningless out of proportion? Greg sighed. Was this level of over-thinking and anxiety an echo from his former life, or just something he was doing now? Did it matter?
Oh well, who dares, wins, right?
“So...Kyra...” He tried not to make this weird. But how to word it?
Hell with it,
he thought. “If and when we get back to civilization and if it's not totally destroyed...you wanna go out and do something?”
Kyra paused in her installation and for a terrible, long moment, he wondered if he'd fucked it all up, but then she kept working. “Are you asking me out on a date, Greg?”
“I...yes, I guess so.”
She laughed. “In the middle of a zombie apocalypse, you're asking me out on a date?”
“...yes.”
“
I've got to be honest. Under normal circumstances I'd probably have to spend a lot more time around you before I even got to that level, but, you know what? Fuck it. I've had too many brushes with death lately. I'm sick of this 'play-it-safe' crap, but one thing, all right?” Here, she stepped out from behind the equipment and stared directly at him.
“
Okay, what?”
“
We move at my pace. I say no, you back off. No questions, no arguing. Understand?” Her tone brooked no argument.
“
I understand. To be honest, I get the feeling you could
make
me back off if you really wanted to.”
Kyra lost her serious demeanor and smiled. “Goddamn
right
, I could.” She went back to the installation process.
Greg's mood brightened and he found he was unable to stop smiling. He'd taken another gamble and it came out fine. He remained silent after that, simply basking in the glow of his own happiness, while Kyra finished up installation.
“All right, Romeo.” She turned on the comms equipment and made sure it worked. “Out of the chair, I need it.”
Greg stood and passed the chair to her. She settled into it and fiddled with the controls, running through the spectrum of channels, hunting for another voice out there on the airwaves. Cage came in while Kyra repeated her message over and over, asking if anyone was out there. Both he and Greg leaned against the wall, waiting.
Nearly ten minutes passed before they finally had a hit.
“
This is Staff Sergeant Lynch, calling from Fort Jackson. I hear your call, Lance Corporal Mercer. What's your current location and situation?”
“
Oh, thank God.” Kyra breathed a heavy sigh of relief. “We’re located at Communications Relay Outpost A Fourteen. There are two other military personnel with me. We are all in good health and haven't been exposed to the infection. What's the situation on your end? Is there any way we can we get a pick up?”
“
I'm afraid not, Mercer. We've got our hands full here. We're knee-deep in Zulus and it isn't getting any better any time soon. If you are where I think you are, then you should probably get out of there. You're in the Quarantine Zone, which is where we think this whole thing originated from. Now, I can't spare any drop ships...can you find your own way down to Jackson? If you've got a jeep, it shouldn't be more than a three-hour drive.”
“
Yeah...we can do it. We were just hoping against hope for an easier way out.”
“
Sorry. Bring whatever supplies and weapons you can, we need everything we can get. Report for duty at the side entrance, and radio ahead so we don't have any...accidents.”
“
Accidents?”
“
There’ve been a few half-hearted attacks on the base by rogue military personnel and assholes who grabbed a handful of guns and grenades and thought they were all that.”
“
Affirmative. We'll radio ahead. Before we go...do we know how it got started? Do we have a cure?”
Lynch remained silent for a moment.
“...no. Negative on both of those.”
“
I see. We'll be on our way shortly, staff sergeant.”
“
Affirmative. Over and out.”
Kyra spun around in her chair and grinned at Greg and Cage.
“Gentlemen, let's get the fuck out of here.”
Chapter 12
Wastelands.
Long hours.
They'd driven along the bleak, rain-drenched landscape for going on two hours now. They hadn't come across anything. No survivors, no zombies, no other structures. According to the geographical database built into the jeep, there would only be a single structure on the route from the outpost to the military base.
They'd opted to take all three jeeps, since it seemed that the military would be starved for any and all equipment and supplies. They packed each jeep with important materials: the remaining fuel, the meager supply of guns and ammo they'd managed to collect, a large cache of food, and whatever other odds and ends they'd thought to bring.
Greg was bored, staring at the hinterlands of infinite miles that surrounded him. He'd taken a couple of cigarettes from Cage before the long trek had begun and now the interior of the jeep swam with a light haze. He found that smoking calmed him, helped him think. For a little while, he'd considered not picking the habit back up, but decided that if he hadn't awoken with a desperate craving for cigs, and had only now learned that they had been a past habit, then it shouldn't be too hard to shake in the future.
They'd kept their radios open, but no one had had much of anything to say. The ride started out with some conversation between Greg and Kyra, but after the first ten minutes it died away, leaving them alone with their thoughts and the vast desolation that engulfed them. Greg had had a lot to think about.
He found himself wondering about the horrible thing from the basement. The nightmare cast in pale flesh and black blood. What did it mean? Greg accepted the stumbling horrors he'd seen so far. The zombies. They were real, and there was likely enough fiction-turned-fact out there to make such horrors a reality...but that thing? What
was
it? It was obviously related to the zombies, but it had been so much
bigger
, so much deadlier. Was it possibly the next step in their evolution? Did they even
have
such a thing?
Despite how interesting this was Greg found himself thinking more of his conversation with Cage. About how he should stop being so concerned with who he might have been and consider more who he was going to become. He could change that. He could shape himself. Mold himself. He’d been presented with a unique scenario, it seemed. Questions kept surfacing, difficult ones, and despite Cage's sentiment, he found them difficult to simply ignore. These long periods of reflective silences weren't helping.
Perhaps most of all, he found himself thinking about Kyra, which, once again, made him wonder if this was a sign of insanity. When you’re surrounded by death on all sides and your very life is at stake, and all you can think about is a member of the opposite sex...surely that means that something is wrong with you, right?
Maybe not. Maybe this was the function of the human mind. Or could it be the function of a broken mind?
A structure on the horizon derailed Greg's train of thought. Through the wet haze of the windshield, he studied it as the trio of jeeps slowed their approach. It appeared to be low and long, a single-story structure that revealed its details as they approached.
The radio let out a short buzz as Kyra’s voice came over the comm.
“So, moment of truth, boys. Are we going to stop and check it out?”
“
I vote no. Our destination is the more prudent choice,”
Cage replied in that calm, cool manner he always spoke in.
“
What if someone's alive and hurt in there? What if they need help?” Greg cut in.
“
What if we find our deaths waiting for us in there?”
Cage’s voice was cold and even.
“
Fuck it. Let's check it out. Guns at ready.”
Kyra maneuvered her jeep toward the structure. Cage remained silent. Greg found that curious. Technically, since no one knew his own rank, Cage should be making the decisions for them, but he seemed happy to simply follow orders.
“
Very well.”
Cage’s voice held no emotion.
They stopped a dozen meters short of the exterior and killed the engines. Greg stepped out, shotgun slung across his neck, pistol in its holster. He made sure the safeties on both were off and studied the structure. It was also made of some dull gray alloy like the other structures they’d been, punctuated with windows and tattooed with poorly hidden seams where the larger pieces fit together. Already, Greg could see that some of the windows were broken out.
“Let's take a quick walk around the perimeter, and try out our radios, see if anyone is on short-range,” he said.
They made a quick circle around the outside of the building while Kyra called out on her radio. By the time they'd made a complete circuit, they hadn't heard a peep, and learned that the building was singular. There were no exterior sheds and the structure amounted to a large, low rectangle of bland metal. The only man made things in the area besides the building were a pair of landing pads, which were vacant.
The trio gathered at what appeared to be the main entrance.
“
Now, the database pegged this as an emergency medical facility, so there may be some medical supplies we can salvage. We shouldn't linger, though.” Greg stared hard at the front door. Something was wrong.
“
Why?” Kyra replied.
“
I don't know...just a bad feeling.”
“
I feel it, too.” Cage shifted. “Instinct. I don't like this place.”
Kyra took a deep breath and let it out. “Then let's do this fast, but careful.”
They opened the door. Nothing leapt out at them. They were admitted to a lobby, void of furniture, decorated only by a curved desk against the far wall, opposite the doorway, and a thin blue carpet.
The place was steeped in the disturbing notion of abrupt abandonment, as though everyone had simply vanished in the midst of everyday activities. Greg moved slowly around the desk and found a wheeled swivel chair knocked over. A terminal built into the desktop was shut down and a single cup of coffee had been left to sit and go cold. Greg righted the chair and called to Kyra.
“What?” She started toward him.
“
We should fire this up. See if we can get an idea of what might have gone on. Logs, cameras, at least a map of the building. And you’re better at this than I am.”
Kyra nodded and took a seat. Greg found Cage investigating the pair of doors, one on either side of the room. Each door led to a corridor that turned away from the doorway, extending several dozen meters. Doorways broke up the length of bland metal walls at irregular intervals. In the corridor to the right, they saw an unmoving form heaped on the floor amid a dark stain. Some of the lights were out and others flickered.
“Anything?” Greg asked after several minutes of ominous silence had passed. Kyra seemed wholly focused on her work, staring into the pale light of the terminal.
“
I've got a map of this place. It isn't big or complex. As for logs...well, from what I can gather, they started getting calls a little less than a week ago. Then their medics stopped coming back from the calls and after that someone came by and attacked the base...took out their comms array...and the last report mentions something getting into the base. This was two days ago.”
“
What about cameras? Security?” Greg called over his shoulder.
“
Cameras are down and damage to the mainframe is blocking access to recorded footage.”
“
Wonderful...all right, we should stick together.”
They moved into the base, taking the right door first. The corridor was long and empty, the light broken by the flickering and damaged bulbs. The corpse halfway down the hallway gave the area a menacing atmosphere.
This side of the base was devoted to living quarters: bedrooms, a mess hall, and a recreation room. The bedrooms were small, smaller than the ones Greg and the others had spent the past week-or-so in, but each one was individual, offering home to only a single occupant. Most of them were neat, precise, and void of life.
“
How many people lived here?” Greg murmured.
“
The roster I glanced over said a dozen and a half. Most of them were medical personnel and pilots, a few techs and security, a cook, I think.” Kyra spoke in a low voice.
They checked out all the dorms, finding only a single one occupied by a body that sat in a swivel chair at an awkward angle. The skin had taken on an ugly, pale sheen. Half the head was gone, vaporized by a gunshot.
While they poked through the mess hall it hit Greg. Someone or more likely, some
thing
was watching him. No, worse. Something
hunted
him. He froze where he stood in the middle of the mess hall, standing amid a small field of tables and chairs set out at regular intervals across a stainless steel floor.
He scanned the immediate area: doors, windows, shadows. He saw nothing, but the sense of impending attack refused to abate.
“Something's in here with us,” Cage whispered.
“
I can't see it,” Greg replied.
“
What is it? Where?” Kyra hissed.
They looked around, staring intently everywhere they could. Greg's skin crawled with anticipation, his muscles tensed up, but he saw nothing.
“Let's just get to the medical bay, grab some shit, and get the hell out of here.” Greg finally found a bit of courage. “I don't want to leave empty-handed.”
They retraced their route through the silent base. As they walked, Greg strained his ears against the quiet, listening for any trace of their stalker. He thought he could hear a soft scrabbling sound, like claws against metal, but when he stopped to listen more intently, the sound ceased. He suppressed a sigh and kept moving.
By the time they arrived at the infirmary, the tension mounted to an almost intolerable level. Greg checked the shadows and corners with an obsessive edge. He studied the infirmary, trying to force himself to relax. The room was broad and well-lit. Flanking them on either side were rows of examination tables, fitted up against the walls, each one sporting a medical terminal, like a curious techno-growth.
Along the back wall three sealed surgical bays stood, locked behind walls of glass. Two of them were empty. One housed a particularly brutal and violent scene. Greg approached the glass wall, and stared intently at the gore contained within. Thick streaks of flesh-speckled blood lined the interior walls, and stuck to the glass. More blood had pooled on the floor and what had once been a person lay on the surgical table.
“Good God...” Kyra whispered. “What
happened
to him?”
It looked like someone had lowered a lawnmower onto the corpse's chest and let it run. The skin along the right arm was stripped away, revealing the fresh meat of muscle and the occasional hint of bone. The face had been eaten away, it seemed, by something with razor blades for teeth.
“We should leave.” Cage’s voice remained cool, but held an edge Greg hadn’t heard before.
“
Okay...yeah. Fuck this. The Staff Sergeant wants these medical supplies, he can send a team here to grab it.”
They turned and left the infirmary, hurrying back out into the corridor. Greg expected something to be waiting for them out there, but it remained as empty as ever. As the others formed up behind him, weapons at ready, he heard something overhead. A soft rattle of metal. He glanced up, spying a ventilation mesh-grate almost directly overhead. Inside, there was darkness and...twin eyes, glowing crimson, staring down at him.
He let out a short scream, snapped his shotgun up and fired.
The eyes disappeared in a flash as the grate blew out in a shower of sparks and fragments of metal.
“What is it?” Kyra cried.
“
Go!” Greg screamed, bolting down the passageway. The others followed without comment. Overhead, a rapid clicking could be heard. His heart racing, Greg ran full tilt down the passageway, unwilling to risk a glance over his shoulder and see what might be scrambling for him. Whatever it was, it seemed to still be in the ceiling.
They hit the end of the corridor and hurried through the doorway.
Greg saw the front door, right there, waiting to admit them to a rainy freedom. Abruptly, the sound of a shotgun going off cut through the air. Greg spied a nearby ventilation grate blow out. Instantly, a high-pitched shriek filled the room. A second shotgun blast sounded and the shriek cut off sharply.
Something milky-white and human shaped slumped out of the ruins of the mesh-grate and landed on the floor with a sick, wet
splat
.
“
Got it.” Cage kept his shotgun trained on the body. It landed in front of the desk in a growing pool of its own jet-black blood.
“
What...what
is
that?” Greg whispered and tried to swallow the sick feeling that crept up into his throat.