A World Reborn: The First Outbreak (19 page)

“So you came down the stairs, avoided the
soldiers and got into the utility corridors. How did you get past the infected?
Moreover, how did you get past the key card access doors? All of our access cards
were revoked.”

“I’ve got to say, Roy, this isn’t the
welcome I expected after crawling through hell to get here.”

“I’m sorry, Jim, but there was a woman who
was working her ass off trying to help and I just heard her die. We uncovered
evidence that someone was working from within to facilitate this whole damned
event.”

“And you think it’s me?”

“I don’t know, Jim. The only thing I am
certain of is that it’s pretty damn convenient that the moment we open this
door, lo and behold, you’re standing in the corridor.” Roy explained bluntly.

“It’s that suspicious cop mind of yours
that’s talking, Roy. I can’t imagine it’s kept you many friends over the
years.”

“Maybe, but it’s kept me alive.”

“But not your partners.” Jim shot back. Roy
glared at him, a flicker of fury rising in his chest.

“Jim.” Donna chimed in reproachfully.

“What? It’s true.” He snapped back at her,
and then returning to Roy went on. “And why do you suspect me when it could
just as easily have been Donna? She lives on that damned computer. She could
easily have been working for them. She could’ve written the damn malware that
destroyed the computer system; she’s got the necessary access and the technical
expertise to implement it. I barely know how to send a damned email!” Jim
roared.

Roy looked at Donna and saw the wounded
look on her face. In a way, Roy knew it was decision time; he had to push Jim
harder and see if he could crack him, turn his accusations towards Donna or let
go and focus on the greater situation in hand. Although he didn’t have any
evidence that cleared her, Roy felt he could trust Donna. She’d worked hard and
her emotional attachment to him made Roy feel she wouldn’t betray him.

“She’s done a lot to work around the
malware, Jim. I don’t believe it was her. I don’t really believe it was you
either,” he offered. “I just know someone was involved, and unless they got
themselves eaten or are still hiding out there somewhere, it has to be one of
you two.” He insisted, but flashed a look of reassurance in Donna’s direction.

“You were working the night we think the
malware was introduced, Jim, so was I. I’m sure there’s another explanation,
but it makes sense that we’re both suspects.” Donna told him candidly,
following Roy’s lead.

“How do you know it was even Grove who
installed the malware? You could’ve done it before they arrived and made it
look as if they had.” Jim rebutted.

An ice cold feeling hit Roy.

“Who said anything about Grove, Jim?” Roy
demanded bluntly; between this and dodging the question about the key card
access, Roy was certain Jim was involved in some manner. Jim stared him down.
It suddenly became very tense. Roy waited to see what the other man was going
to do. Without warning, Jim reached behind his jacket, withdrew a gun, and
pointed it at Roy.

“I told them I wasn’t good at this spy
crap.” He said gruffly.

“Why?” Roy demanded. “How could you be part
of this?”

“Money. A whole hell of a lot of money in
fact, the people funding this have deeper pockets than you can imagine. I’m
sure they would do a deal with you, with both of you.
They told me to
come down here and shoot you,
but I think I can convince them
to make a deal with you too; all you have to do is get with the program.” He
assured them, his eyes flicking from one to the other.

“You traitorous little bastard!” Roy
declared vehemently.

“Oh please, Roy, you know the score better
than anyone. I’m not retiring on the pension I’ll receive from this place.
You’re still working even though you took retirement from the police force.”

“So the destruction of thousands of
innocent people, plus your friends and associates, all either being eaten alive
or infected with God knows what, that’s all just part of your retirement plan?”
Roy asked incredulously. Roy took a step forward and Jim suddenly turned the
gun on Donna.

“Don’t move one step closer.” Jim
threatened.

“Jim, please.” Donna pleaded, her eyes wide
with fear.

“It’s up to him, Donna. So, what’ll it be,
Roy? Let a woman who’s so damned in love with you she follows you around like a
love sick puppy die or reach a deal with me so that we can all walk out of here
as winners?”

“I think you know the answer to that, Jim.”
Roy said with a snarl. Jim shook his head.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Roy, I really am.”

“Jim...” Donna started but was cut short as
Jim began to squeeze the trigger on the pistol. A fraction of a second before
the gun fired, Roy leapt at him, grabbing his gun arm and trying to wrest the
weapon from his hand. Jim fired a series of shots as Roy grappled with him,
none of which hit either Donna or Roy. Unable to get the gun from his hand, Roy
slammed his elbow under Jim’s jaw, disorientating him and sending the gun
clattering to the floor.

Moving back, Jim swung his fist at Roy’s
face, making contact and breaking the Security Chiefs grasp on his arm. Having
found his target, he followed it up with a series of blows without a pause,
before grabbing Roy’s collar and throwing him against the wall behind him. Roy
slumped to the ground and although dazed after the sudden, brutal attack,
looked to where the gun had hit the floor and realized he was a lot closer to
it than Jim, who came to the same conclusion a heartbeat later. Reaching out
swiftly, Roy snatched up the gun but unfortunately, as he pointed the muzzle at
Jim, the latter changed course and launched himself at Roy, landing heavily on
top of him and forcing the air from his lungs. Jim struck Roy’s face hard,
making him lose his grip on the gun. He struck him again, further
disorientating Roy and then he seized his advantage, lunging sideways and
snatching up the weapon. He stood, took a half step back and aimed down at his
former superior.

“I’m sorry, Roy.” Jim said, sounding almost
sincere as he prepared to take Roy’s life. Suddenly, Donna leapt towards Jim,
swinging her arm down like a club and knocking Jim’s outstretched arm downward
as he pulled the trigger. Roy felt a sudden, agonizing pain in his leg, and saw
a rapid expulsion of blood as the bullet blew straight through just above his
knee. Donna roared in fury and swung a fist at Jim’s face, but he countered,
punching her gut hard and then followed it up with a strong blow to her face,
sending her reeling backwards. He raised the pistol and fired roughly in her
direction. Donna was already in retreat and, hoping to prevent a second shot in
her direction, Roy swung his uninjured leg around and swept Jim’s feet out from
under him. The gun dropped from Jim’s left hand as he hit the ground and slid a
few feet to the side. Roy crawled quickly towards it, leaving a bloody trail
from his wounded leg, and once he retrieved it, rolled onto his back and aimed
in the vague direction of where Jim had been only a moment before. However, he
was too late; Jim was already bolting out of the security room door. Roy fired
a quick barrage of shots, but they impacted against the door and wall
harmlessly. Breathing heavily, Roy looked around for Donna and saw her legs
protruding from the side of her desk.

“Donna?” He called out anxiously, but there
was no response. Then he heard a disturbing, gurgling sound. He tried to
scramble to his feet, but the pain in his knee from the wound sent him
sprawling forward with a cry. He crawled towards her with his hands, and when
he reached her legs, carefully inched around her. What he saw when he was
finally able to see her face nearly broke his heart.

Donna had been shot in the neck, and
although she was holding the wound, blood was spurting between her fingers. Her
eyes were wide in terror and when she tried to speak, she spat blood out of her
mouth, all over her pretty face. Roy dropped the gun and scrambled on his hands
and one good knee until he was beside her, then he took her in his arms. He
tried putting one of his larger, meatier hands over hers as he did so, hoping
the pressure would do something to keep her alive.

“Press on it tight and hold on Donna.
You’re going to be fine. You’ll be fine!” Roy assured her, his voice breaking
on the last utterance as he realized his lie. He could see from the look in her
eyes that she was utterly terrified. She knew she was going to die, and as her
lifeblood flowed out between their fingers, her face turned paler. She reached
up with her other hand and gently touched, Roy’s cheek, her warm, wet blood smearing
a path across his skin. Tears burnt his eyes as he looked down at the dying
woman, but he held them back and met her gaze. She tried to speak, the words
being lost and turning into nothing more than a sad, pathetic gurgle of wet
vowel sounds. She coughed more blood onto her face, choking as she desperately
tried to tell Roy what she’d always wanted to tell him.

“I know Donna. I know.” He whispered
softly, holding her closer to him. He would never have crossed the line with
her; he loved his wife too much. But in this, her final moment, Roy leaned in
and planted the softest of kisses on her forehead, as a father would kiss his
daughter. He pulled back and smiled at her. Donna’s hand started to slip from
his face, but he saw that she didn’t have that fearful look in her eyes
anymore. She looked... satisfied, was the only expression Roy could describe it
as. Then her face slackened a little and her eyes began to glaze over.

“Hold on, Donna. Stay with me.” Roy
pleaded, but Donna was slipping away. She looked serenely calm in her last
moment, actually breaking eye contact with Roy as she if she saw something over
his shoulder. Then the light left her eyes and her limbs went weak and slack;
her hand flopping from his face to lie on the cold ground. Roy stared into her
face as she passed and wished so very much that he could have done something
differently. In his wild moment of grief, he almost wished he could’ve loved
her as she did him. Lying beside her in a pool of her slowly expanding blood,
Roy wished a million different things. But wishes wouldn’t change what had
happened. Donna was dead. Melissa was dead. Almost everyone he worked with was
dead. The only person he knew for sure who was still alive was Jim. It wouldn’t
be too long before that woman, the Ancillary, discovered Jim had failed and
then she would send her men to kill him. Roy wanted to go home and be with his
wife, but looking into his future, he couldn’t see that possibility. So he made
a decision. He wasn’t going to die lying down. Gently lowering Donna’s body
back onto the ground, Roy reached for the gun and looked resolutely towards the
door. Before he began to move towards it though, he turned back to Donna and
promised that before he died, he was going to see Jim dead for what he’d done.
No arrest, no trial, no procedure... this time, it was time blood for blood.

Chapter Eight

Melissa was getting very frustrated trying
to persuade Jonas to do something, anything, she could turn to her advantage.
She’d asked for a drink. She’d asked for the bathroom. She had been about to
ask if he had a cigarette, even though she didn’t smoke, but realized that
request would also end in a gruff refusal. Jonas was loyal to his cause and
would stick rigidly to the orders he’d been given. Exactly what they were was
irrelevant; it simply meant he wasn’t going to open up an easy way for Melissa
to overpower him, and unless she could get him to turn his back, she wasn’t
going anywhere. They heard a door slam nearby and someone sprinted past the
short corridor leading to the staff room. Melissa strained to look momentarily,
and saw that Jonas had been partially distracted. Melissa realized this was the
opportunity she had been looking for.

“Roy! In here!” She called out, moving as
though she was trying to get someone to see her. Jonas readied his weapon and
stepped out into the corridor, his back to her. This was her chance. Melissa
got up and leapt at her jailer, slamming her shoulder into his back with all
her weight behind it. Jonas toppled over and Melissa landed on top of him. She
saw his assault rifle skidding away down the short corridor, and while she had
a second’s advantage, Melissa scrambled quickly to her feet. As soon as she had
regained her balance, she brought her leg up and tried to stamp down on the
back of his head, but he recovered faster than she expected and twisted,
grabbing her foot in the process. He gave a powerful shove and knocked her back
into the room, where Melissa landed awkwardly on her bound hands. Grunting with
exertion, she struggled to get back up, while Jonas was already standing and
looking about for his weapon. A flustered Melissa looked around, conscious as
she did so that her chance of freedom was diminishing by the second; then she
saw her pistol under the small coffee table not far from where she’d been
sitting. She rolled onto her front and managed to scrape herself up onto her
knees and get to her feet before darting towards the weapon. Kicking the table
over, she flopped backwards onto the gun; watching as she did so Jonas stoop to
pick up his rifle. A flash of panic hit her in the chest as she fumbled to get
the gun into her bound hands but, after nearly pulling the trigger and shooting
herself, she managed to get her hand around the grip, and manoeuvre it into a
rough firing position. She didn’t know how many bullets were left, and it
didn’t really matter. She had no way of aiming the weapon effectively, so blind
luck would determine if she lived through the next few seconds.

Jonas had retrieved his weapon and was
returning to the room. His rifle wasn’t fully at the ready, presumably as his
intention was to recapture her, and Melissa took her chance. She rolled onto
her side, and aiming the gun as best as she could, squeezed the trigger. The
first shot hit the wall to his right; the second hit him in the shin, causing
him to hunch over and drop to one knee, growling in pain. He quickly raised his
weapon and Melissa fired a quick pair of shots. One hit his arm, one his
shoulder, and then the gun clicked empty. Jonas had toppled backwards, but
still held the rifle in his right hand. Melissa dropped her pistol and got to
her feet, charging at Jonas and stamping on his wounded arm; he writhed in pain
and the weapon fell from his hand. She followed it up with a speedy kick to the
side of his head but, before she could lift her foot to strike again, he
countered by grabbing her leg with the hand of his uninjured arm, yanking and
trying to unbalance her. Melissa compensated swiftly by tightening the muscles
and putting her full weight on it and then, as soon as she felt the force of
his attack diminish slightly, she gritted her teeth and retaliated with a
second, more powerful strike to the side of his head with her other foot,
pushing though the pain radiating from the bite. His grip loosened and Melissa
stamped hard on his face; she heard bones break, and he went limp. She wasn’t
sure whether or not he was dead, but when she saw the knife in a sheath on his
chest she instantly turned her back towards him and flopped down onto him so
that she could grab it.

Awkwardly, she got it into her hands and
manipulated the blade to enable her to cut through the thick plastic binding
her wrists. She slipped, making a small cut on her hand, but refocused and
tried again, even though the blade handle was a little slippery. Suddenly, she
felt the binding break and her hands were free. Melissa quickly turned around
and got to her knees; she held the knife in her right hand and carefully lifted
up the mask so she could assess Jonas’ condition. His nose was a broken, bloody
mess, and his skin had turned pale. His eyes, also pallid, made Melissa think
of the infected, and as she moved her cut hand over his mouth, she saw the jaw
twitch. Jonas was dead, and the mechanism that automatically infected the
Reborn had given him the virus. She took the knife and slammed it into his
forehead, finishing him permanently.

With Jonas dead, Melissa quickly searched
his body for things she could use. There was some kind of key card in one of
the pockets on the armoured vest, spare ammo clips for both the assault rifle
he’d been using and for a pistol, presumably the one attached to his leg via a
holster. She took his vest off and equipped herself with it, then attached the
leg holster to her jeans before reaching for his assault rifle, taking it for
herself. It was similar to one she’d used in Africa, so she felt comfortable
adopting it as her primary weapon. Finally, she unclasped his collar, which had
had a steady green light until he died, and was now red. Melissa hoped it was
undamaged, unlike the last one she’d worn. She snapped it into place around her
own neck; craning awkwardly to make sure the steady green light it emitted had
been restored. She checked her bandaged leg again, and saw that the bandage was
still intact, and her leg, although stinging, was a lot less painful than it
had been when she was first bitten.

“At least I got something out of them.” She
commented to herself as she surveyed the room quickly for the first aid kit.
She saw it on the kitchenette counter and hurrying over to it, grabbed some
gauze from inside and pressed it firmly on the cut on her hand to absorb the
flow of blood where the knife had nicked her. She finished it off with a strip
of adhesive tape to keep it in place. Once that was done, she brought the
assault rifle to a ready position and stepped out into the corridor. Despite
the detour she’d undertaken, her plan remained the same. She wanted to find Roy
and Donna and then set out to rescue the hostages. Cautiously, she moved
forward towards the fork in the corridor. She peeked down the left and saw the
corridor was strewn with the bodies of the infected - which had presumably been
too aggravated to control after her near fatal encounter earlier. She was about
to check the corridor to the right when from it she heard a door open quietly.
After ensuring it was set to semi-automatic, Melissa gripped the rifle tightly
and prepared to face down whoever was coming at her.

“Freeze!” She yelled menacingly as she
stepped out. It was a hotel security officer who was holding a pistol in his
right hand, but it was not pointed at her, instead it was pointed at the floor,
as if the weapon was too heavy to continuously hold at the ready. He was only
able to stand by leaning heavily against the wall with his right shoulder –
sliding along it as he moved forward - while using what appeared to be an
unplugged floor lamp as a walking aid in his left hand. He was covered in
blood, but there was only a bandage around his leg leading Melissa to suspect
the blood was someone else’s. They eyed each other suspiciously, both seemingly
unsure what would happen next.

“Melissa?” Roy solicited guardedly.

“Roy?” Melissa returned with equal
wariness. She stood up and shot a quick glance over her shoulder, making sure
it was still clear of threats. She looked back at the man ahead of her and
lowered her weapon, approaching him and offering him her shoulder for support.

“I thought you were dead.” Roy informed
her; his voice was weaker than she was accustomed to hearing, the pain of his
injury obviously sapping his strength, leaving only his iron willpower to keep
him on his feet.

“I thought so too. How did you get out of
the security room? Where’s Donna?” Melissa rattled off the questions as they
entered her mind. When she saw his eyes moisten with tears however, she guessed
at once the answer to her last question.

The Ancillary stood near the Money Pit,
smiling contentedly as she gazed upon the decimation perpetrated by the
infected earlier.

“Ma’am?” A voice called over her shoulder.
It was Sebastian and the Ancillary turned to look at him, her smile still
bright and wide.

“Yes, Sebastian?”

“I observed that Jonas’ heartbeat monitor
had flat-lined. It seems that while the virus was successfully administrated,
his continued service was also cut short by the Witness.” Sebastian reported.

“Good. Everything is proceeding as we
hoped. She has managed to overcome every obstacle the Teacher commanded we put
in front of her. Now, let us be certain she’s the one. Inform your comrades she
will be on the move soon, and they are to shoot to kill.”

“Understood, Ancillary.” Sebastian
confirmed, but then he hesitated.

“Is something wrong?” The Ancillary asked.

“It’s just that the Teacher told us he
wants her alive, that she must remain so, at least until the old world has been
torn down.”

“Indeed he has, Sebastian.” The Ancillary
agreed, stepping closer to him and brushing one of her hands against the cheek
of his masked face. “But the Teacher never said we had to make it easy for her.
If she truly is the Witness and deserves to stand after the fall of this world,
then she will have the will to survive against the odds stacked against her.
Wouldn’t you agree?” The Ancillary asked Sebastian, who nodded emphatically as
she took a step closer to him; stopping only when she was pressed against his
chest, the stun grenade on his vest awkwardly pressing against her lithe body.

“Ye... yes, ma’am.” Sebastian agreed. She
lifted up his mask carefully, exposing his lips to kiss him passionately before
she slipped the mask back down once again cover his face.

“Is... is it wise to put our affections on
display so publically?”

“There are only the infected and the dead
to see us here, Sebastian. We’re safe to do whatever we wish.” The Ancillary
replied, stepping back with a look of reluctance on her face. “But we do have
our duty to do. Spread the word to the men, check over the defences and —”

“Lady! Hey, lady! We’ve got a big damn
problem!” A man called out to her from behind Sebastian, who spun around,
drawing his pistol from his leg holster in a flash. Jim was stepping out of a
door marked staff only, with a pair of Reborn soldiers at his side. Sebastian
lowered his weapon as the Ancillary stepped around him.

“Did you complete your task?” She asked him
calmly, but in response he just shook a fist angrily at her.

“I need to get out of here. I want the rest
of my money and I want a seat on that helicopter right damn now!” Jim demanded.

“I’ll take that as a no.” The Ancillary
commented, and then let out a long, weary sigh. “Jim, Jim, Jim, we had an
arrangement. You would be paid to facilitate our infiltration of the hotel and
casino and then you would take care of Mister Snipes when we asked you to. Is
Mister Snipes taken care of?”

“Not in so many words.” Jim retorted.

“There’s no room for failures in the new
world, Jim, no room at all.” The Ancillary fleetingly shook her head in
disappointment.

“Yeah, well, what’s done is done. Let’s get
a move on!” Jim rebutted.

“Seize him!” The Ancillary ordered, and the
two men at Jim’s side grasped his arms tightly.

“Do you want him put with the other prisoners?”
Sebastian asked.

“No. Break both of his legs and leave him
somewhere for the Witness to find. She can decide his fate.”

“I’ll tell her everything I know, you
bitch!” Jim snarled, hoping to leverage his inside knowledge for amnesty. The
Ancillary responded by slapping his face hard enough to split his lip.

“You know nothing of importance. Away with
him.” She instructed, waving her hand dismissively. She turned to Sebastian,
the smile restored to her face. “Now, Sebastian, as I was saying. I want you to
check over the defences to make sure everything is in place and then join me on
the top floor in our suite. We’ll await the appointed time together while your
comrades deal with the Witness.”

“Should I send some men to deal with
Snipes?”

“No, the Witness will probably be with him
by now and even if she isn’t, he’s of no consequence.”

“Yes ma’am. What if our men fail to stop
the Witness freeing the hostages?”

“Then she will have proved herself worthy.”

Roy stood in the doorway, leaning against
the frame for support while Melissa stepped into the room. She looked down at
the dead, bloody body of Donna and shook her head. She didn’t know the woman at
all, but she felt a surge of anger well up inside her at the heart-rending
image of Donna, another fallen innocent, lying dead on the floor. What made it
worse was that Melissa could feel a weight of sadness and responsibility for
her death radiating off Roy. She turned to face him, holding the rifle at her
side and shook her head.