The Tide: Breakwater (Tide Series Book 2) (17 page)

Abby slowly stood, her arms wrapped around herself, shivering. “I know, but if we stay here...then what? We starve to death? We die of thirst? We wait until they break in? We’re no better off now than when we were in the grad student office.”

Navid’s eyes traced the floor. He had no good answer for her. Working in a research lab associated with a hospital, he’d been trained for disasters ranging from a wild gunman to a missing child to an earthquake, as unlikely as that was in Boston.

But he’d never been prepared for when some kind of zombie virus turned everyone in the hospital, everyone in the city, into bloodthirsty monsters.

“Whether we stay or not, we at least need weapons,” he said. He pulled out a few of the drawers and then moved aside boxes full of nitrile examination gloves and plastic pipette tips. Most of the tools they had here were for dealing with things like neurons or the nanoparticles and drug carriers they used to administer therapeutic molecules. All those things were microscopic, and the tools used to handle them were not meant to defend against zombies.

“What about these?” Abby took out one of the ring stands from a chemical fume hood. The long, metal pole was attached to a heavy steel base. “Maybe you can use it to stab or”—she held the rod in her hand so the base was in the air, like a golf club ready for a swing—“you can use it like this.”

“Maybe,” Navid said. But even that seemed horribly inadequate compared to what he’d seen. “What about—”

Something slammed against the door, rattling it on its hinges. Navid and Abby froze. They locked eyes but didn’t say a word. Maybe, like all those times before, the zombie-thing wouldn’t notice them and would keep on moving, keep on looking for someone else to attack.

The door rattled again. A dark shape slapped against the window. It blotted out the red emergency lights from the hall. A low growl sounded, and the crazy thing pressed itself against the door. It hammered away with its fists.

The lock’s got to hold,
Navid thought. And if that failed, at least there was all the refuse they’d pile up to help bolster the door.

Another creature crashed against the door. It seemed to push the first out of its way. The door shuddered again and again as more crazies piled up outside. The din became almost unbearable. Abby’s face turned red, tears streaming out of her eyes. She barely held the ring stand now.

Navid realized she must have known how useless the makeshift weapon would be against the assembling horde. He cursed inwardly. In their search for finding a weapon to defend themselves, they must’ve been too loud and attracted the crazy zombies’ attention.

And now they’d be after him. They’d be after Abby.

“What do we do?” she asked.

“I don’t—” Navid stopped and stared at the heavy steel door separating the lab from its walk-in cooler. Normally, they kept cell media, antibodies, and a host of other supplies for their experiments in there. With the power out, all those supplies would be ruined. Some of the perishables had also spoiled, making the place smell rotten. But it might offer them a final place of protection.

Abby followed his eyes and shook her head. “Even if we hide in there, how long before they tear us out?”

The creatures pounded on the door, hitting so hard the walls shook. A tile fell from the ceiling. The wood groaned, and the doorframe was starting to peel from the wall. Dust and paint chips rained down.

Abby was right. Hiding would only delay the inevitable. There had to be another way. Navid ran to the window. It was a three-story drop. No fire escape. No ladder. Hardly a ledge to get his fingers around.

He tried to pry the window open, but it wouldn’t budge. The safety locks on the windows prevented grad students from making a rash decision when the long and lonely hours of their research got to them.

But he needed to make a rash decision now. Abby ran over to him with the fire extinguisher. She hefted the heavy red cylinder as if preparing to throw it through the window.

The sight of the device sparked another idea. “Wait!”

Abby paused, the extinguisher held above her head.

“Get in the cooler. I’ll take care of those monsters.”

“What—”

The door shuddered.

“There’s no time! Just get in!”

Abby did but kept the bulky metal door propped open and watched Navid.

“Close the door until I come in!” Navid said.

He ran around and twisted all the knobs on the gas nozzles. Normally meant for use with items like Bunsen burners, with nothing attached, natural gas hissed and filled the lab. The pungent odorant added to the gas overwhelmed Navid’s sense of smell, and he started getting lightheaded. He wasn’t sure if it was the gas, the fear coursing through his nerves, or some combination of the two contributing to his dizziness.

The door cracked. Two of the crazies pushed their arms through. Their heads squeezed through next. They had bloodshot eyes and gray faces lined with horn-like growths. Their howls intensified when they caught sight of Navid.

But Navid didn’t let that get to him. And he couldn’t let them get to Abby. He ran to the flammable acids storage and tore open the metal door. He pulled out a brown glass bottle of nitric acid, normally used as an analytical agent.

He ran to another metal cabinet of biohazardous reagents and yanked out a small glass bottle of toxic hydrazine. The two chemicals were kept on opposite sides for a reason, and Navid hoped to take advantage of it now. He sprinted to the walk-in cooler door. One of the monsters pushed through the gap. The boxes and shelves clattered and fell. The door flew open, and four of the monsters rushed in.

Navid only had one shot to do this right. He opened the cooler door, tossed the two glass bottles of chemicals into the air, and squeezed into the walk-in. Then he engaged the internally releasable lock, rushed to the opposite side of the small space, and threw his body over Abby’s.

The crash of shattering glass sounded, followed by a crackling explosion as the chemicals reacted violently. A deafening whoosh rattled the door. The air in the lab, filled with natural gas, had ignited. Heat radiated through the door, despite its thermal protective properties. The creatures outside didn’t even have time to shriek before the explosion took them.

A few seconds later, it was over.

“Are they...dead?” Abby asked.

“I don’t know what could’ve survived that. But we can’t stay here. If there are more out there, they would’ve heard that blast, and they might be on their way.” He inched open the door. “Let’s move.”

Shattered glass and pieces of shelving were strewn about. Several chemical bottles had spilled. Their contents pooled across the floor. Navid didn’t want to stick around to find out if there would be a second explosion or a reaction causing a toxic gas.

As he opened the door wider, he caught sight of the dead monsters. The explosions had charred their skin and blackened their bones. Skeletal talons curled from the remains of their hands, and grotesque spikes jutted from what appeared to be their vertebrae, which now looked like burned-out coal. Horns grew from their heads, sticking out from their brows and the crisp skin over what was left of their gaunt faces. Faces Navid knew would haunt him for the rest of his life.

But there was no time to worry about nightmares yet to come. He was living in one now.

“Come on!” He tried to guide Abby past the grisly tableau so she wouldn’t have enough time to soak in the barbecued monsters.

“Oh, my God!” She froze, staring at them. “Navid, what did you do?”

For a moment, Navid hesitated. Where would they go now? He thought about the roving packs of creatures in the streets. They’d go up. Up and see whoever else was left alive. Up where there might be fewer creatures and less danger. Up to the roof, where they could make a sign or an SOS for a military rescue.

Good God, where was the military? How long would they be alone? Two grad students in a hospital overrun by murderous creatures. In a city destroyed. In a nation falling.

Navid and Abby’s feet pounded against the stairs, echoing in the narrow shaft as they raced upstairs. A howl followed them. Footsteps clicked and clacked.
The monsters
. He and Abby were no longer alone after all.

––––––––

M
eredith watched in horror. The three Skulls stalked toward her. Her whole world was lit up in splotches of green flashes and black shadows. The Hunters’ NVGs gave them an advantage over the Skulls, who relied primarily on sight. However, the Skulls also lashed out at anything that made a sound. Gunfire. Footsteps. Breathing. Even a goddamned heartbeat seemed enough to attract their attention.

Desperate to reload her rifle, she fumbled with a magazine. One of the Skulls, fatter and rounder than the others, leapt past an overturned dining table. The magazine clicked into place, and the Skull homed in on the sound. It rushed Meredith, and she brought the muzzle of the rifle back up. The creature flew through the air in spite of its non-athletic appearance, slashing with its hooked, bony claws. Meredith squeezed the trigger, but she could already tell her shots were going to go wide. She sidestepped to avoid the monster.

A loud rattle of gunfire from her left assaulted her eardrums. The Skull’s head snapped back even as its body flew forward. The thing skidded to a stop, leaving a trail of blood.

Dom stood beside Meredith with the barrel of his gun aimed at the Skull in case it decided death didn’t suit it. But when he saw it didn’t move, he moved on to the next target, careful to stay out of the way of his Hunters while bringing down Skull after Skull.

He seemed to be in a sort of trance. He shouldered his rifle, killed a monster, and then sprinted to his next firing position. A final Skull, thin and limber, dashed across the corpse-filled dance floor. Meredith watched Dom kneel and fire once. The beast stopped, its head rolled back, and its body crumpled among its fallen comrades.

“On me!” Dom commanded.

Meredith followed the others as they circled around Dom. Their guns bristled, facing outward from the small formation.

“We lost Hector,” Dom said, his voice stern, a dam against the inner turmoil he must be feeling. The Hunters looked stricken by the news, but they retained their sense of professionalism. The battle wasn’t over yet. But at least now Meredith could understand the sheer coldness with which Dom had dispatched the Skulls. “We still need to keep moving and find the captain and any other survivors.” He pulled out the map of the ship that Holtz had given him. “Behind that door, there should be another short passageway leading to the pilothouse. Once we’ve rounded up any other survivors, we’re going to lead them onto the deck. There, we’ll start ferrying passengers from this ship to a quarantine zone as soon as Chao tells us we’ve got someplace to take these people.”

“Permission to speak freely, Captain,” Miguel said.

“Be quick.”

“Just to be clear, I thought the plan was to retake the pilothouse and set up triage on the lower decks.”

“That
was
the plan. But those things poured through the ventilation shafts and ceiling. We can’t risk the possibility that even one of them is prowling around in there. This whole ship has to be abandoned.”

“Understood.”

“For now, Hector’s staying here. But we will not leave him. He comes with us after we clear the pilothouse.” Dom gestured toward Miguel. “Take point. Renee, you’re on rearguard. And everyone, watch your backs, watch your front, your sides. We can’t let those goddamn things take us by surprise again.”

The Hunters surged forward like a silent wave, rolling toward the opposite side of the dining room. Meredith fell in beside Dom. She wished she could offer him some form of comfort, but she knew him well enough to realize that he would not accept it. While his people were still in danger, he wouldn’t let himself show weakness when they needed him to be strong.

Miguel paused by the door to the passageway and looked back at Dom for further instructions. Dom gave him a slight nod, indicating for him to try the door. Meredith held her breath as she watched the Hunter give the handle a slight pull. It didn’t give.

Dom approached the door, his face pinched in determination. He rapped on it with the back of his hand. “This is Dominic Holland, captain of the
Huntress
. I’m with a group of trained military contractors, and we’re here to rescue you. Please, open up.”

No response.

Again Dom knocked and repeated the statement. Still there was no response.

Meredith hated to acknowledge the thought now drifting through her mind, but she asked anyway. “What if Skulls already got to these people?”

Dom gave her a nod but didn’t say a word. He sent Renee and Miguel a series of hand signals. They positioned themselves at the sides of the door. Dom tried the handle once more, took a step back, and smashed into the door with his shoulder. The wood shattered, sending a spray of splinters into the passageway beyond.

Meredith caught herself holding her breath and let it out. She peered down the sights of her rifle, waiting for Skulls to come charging out of the shadows. But none came.

“Jenna, Andris, Miguel, you take the portside,” Dom said in a low voice. “Meredith, Renee, on me. Go!”

The Hunters padded down the passage. They checked the two doors on their way to the pilothouse, but the rooms were clear. The tension in the air as they approached the last was almost palpable. Meredith could feel a trickle of sweat drip down her neck, and she readjusted her hold on her rifle.

Like before, Dom approached the door. He knocked on it and repeated the same words he’d said prior to breaching the passageway.

This time there was a response. But instead of relieved voices, all that came back was the guttural growl of a Skull.

Meredith’s heart sank. They’d been charged with rescuing the passengers and returning the ship back to its service as a temporary shelter. It looked like they’d failed at both directives.

Dom gestured to the Hunters, and they organized themselves as before. He threw himself against the door, and it slapped against the bulkhead of the pilothouse. The force of it knocked back a person—no, a Skull—onto the helm. The Skull promptly stood, wielding its claws before its plated chest and grinding its teeth together. Dom wasted no time in putting a bullet through the creature’s face. It slumped, its body limp, and smacked against the deck.