A World Reborn: The First Outbreak (8 page)

“Roy, I made it to the roof, where are the
emergency supplies?” She asked urgently. She waited a few moments for Roy to
respond, and then started walking, for no particular reason, towards the
helipad steps.

“Sorry, Melissa.” Roy replied. “Things are
a little busy in here.”

“I’ve had a little excitement myself.”
Melissa commented bluntly.

“What happened?”

“I went into one of the executive suites.
From what I can tell, that whole floor was reserved by the people responsible
for whatever the hell is going on here. Then one of them came back.”

“You found one of them?” Roy quizzed,
surprise clearly evident in his voice.

“She found me actually.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Did you learn anything from her?”

“She spouted some garbage about a Teacher
and that I was corrupt. She’s a total whack job, so I tied her up in the
bedroom and came here. I guess the upside is I have a gun now.”

“My, God.” Roy exclaimed. “Listen, you’ve
done one hell of a job, and all being well you should be able to sit back in a
minute and wait for the cavalry to arrive. The emergency supplies you’re
looking for,” he continued hurriedly, “should be in a case on the base of the
helipad structure. It’s got a light on it, and you should be able to find it
easily. It’s not locked, so just open it up and tell me what you see.”

“What I see? Won’t what you told me should
be in there, actually be in there?”

Roy didn’t answer straight away, and
Melissa caught his hesitation.

“It should be, but you can never be too
careful. Just tell me.”

“Is something going on that I should know
about, Roy?”

“If it comes to anything, I promise I’ll
tell you, but for now, just get to those supplies, Melissa.” Roy instructed.
Melissa rolled her eyes and hurried around the right side of the helipad. She
found the supply box, dark green in colour, mounted on the side of one of the
steel pylons supporting the helipad. It had a fairly strong white LED light on
top of it. Melissa easily located the handle. She opened it with one hand while
holding the radio with the other. Quickly, she assessed the contents: an orange
box, four red flares, and, once Melissa opened the other compartment, a medical
kit.

“There’s an orange box and some flares.”
Melissa said into the radio.

“Right, the box is a charger to keep the
radio inside powered up. Grab it, get up on the helipad and use it. It should
automatically be tuned to the emergency frequency.” Roy informed her.

Melissa clipped the radio back onto her
belt and snatched up the orange box before hurrying around the helipad and up
the steps. She wrenched it open and saw the radio clipped inside. Discarding
the box, she brought it to her mouth, hearing as she did the sound of a
helicopter in the distance, causing her to look around. The beautiful glowing
horizon of the Las Vegas night sky surrounded her, and she could see the lights
of a helicopter moving in her direction. Perhaps, she considered, it was a
police helicopter and help would arrive as soon as she got the word out.

“Hello?” She stated clearly into the
emergency radio. “Is there anyone there?”

“Ma’am? Please identify yourself.” A woman
responded.  Melissa was a little surprised as she had a definite English
accent, but that was unimportant right now.

“I’m Melissa Jones at The Seraph Hotel and
Casino, we need police and medical services... send everyone!” Melissa shouted
excitedly. Relief hit her: help was finally on the way.

“Ma’am, I need you to explain. What’s
happening at the Seraph? Is there anyone in a position of authority I can speak
to?” The woman questioned.

“There’s no one close that I can pass you
to. The only person I know is Roy Snipes, the Chief of Security, but he’s
trapped in the security room. As for what’s happening, there’s some kind of
outbreak, a virus that’s making people violent.” Melissa said cautiously, not
elaborating to divulge the full extent of what was happening in case she
thought it was a prank call. “I’m a guest, a journalist, and Roy guided me up
here.”

“Where is this Roy Snipes?” The woman
questioned.

“I told you, trapped in the security room.
The building is in some kind of lockdown and the security system is buggered,
so he’s trapped with someone else from the security team.”

“So you’re on your own?”

“Yes, if it matters, I’m on my own. Please
send help as soon as you can. It’s not good on the lower floors. People are
either dead or dying.” Melissa explained, hoping the calm tone of the woman
would shift into one of action.

“Ma’am, thank you for your report. We have
an air vehicle in the vicinity and they’ll be able to touch down soon and
assist you. Please stand by the radio and wait on the helipad.”

Melissa thought this sounded strange. She
never said she was on the helipad. Frowning, she glanced around and saw that
the lights on the helicopter she had spotted were now closer, probably only a
minute or two out, and there were no other helicopters nearby. Although it was
difficult to tell, as it was a dark helicopter against a dark night sky, the
one approaching seemed a little too big for a standard police helicopter. Also,
taking into account the distance between them and the lights on the helipad,
she’d be clearly visible to anyone in the helicopter, but it didn’t make sense
that the woman on the radio would also be aboard it. Of course, if the
helicopter did belong to the police, just following some kind of routine flight
plan, when she contacted the emergency line via the radio they would have been
informed of the situation and most likely would have reported back to the
dispatcher that they could see a person on the roof.   

“Ma’am, are you still there?” The woman
quizzed sharply.

“Yeah, I’m here.” Melissa responded
cautiously, watching the helicopter getting closer. Sure, it seemed a little
paranoid even to her, but if the organisation that had attacked this hotel was
as well funded as she suspected, was it completely out of the question that
they could have a helicopter to ferry additional people here? And the woman was
English, or at least she had an English accent, a little uncommon amongst the
Las Vegas police Melissa was sure. Melissa started to retreat towards the
steps.

“Ma’am?” The woman questioned.

“Yeah?” Melissa replied guardedly.

“Don’t move!” She ordered, her voice
sounding chilling across the radio.

“I’m not.” Melissa answered, a little
shaken by the unexpected command.

“Don’t try my patience. Your will to
survive will impress the Teacher. Stay where you are, Witness.”

Melissa, confused by being called ‘Witness’
and certain that staying on the roof was a bad idea, tossed the radio to the
floor of the helipad and started to hurry down the steps. The helicopter, its
engine sounding very loud now, was only a few seconds from actually landing.
Melissa leapt down the last few steps and broke into a flat run towards the
stairwell leading down from the roof. The door was dead ahead of her, but a
flash of light on the floor nearby indicated someone was pointing a flashlight
in her direction. A loud bang rang out, then a burst of them, and as Melissa
darted right she heard the impact of bullets behind her. Another series of
shots rang out and she saw bullet holes appear in the outer wall of the
stairwell ahead of her. She reached the door and wrenched it open, terrified
that the next burst of shots would hit her, but she got lucky, and was through
the door before the next barrage was launched at her. She slammed the door
behind her, and its heavy steel frame absorbed the impacts that would surely
have hit her legs. Melissa jinked right and started down the stairs. She
pounded them as fast as she could, with no real idea of what to do other than
to get down, away from the people shooting at her. She rounded the corner and
started down the second flight. Ahead of her was the door leading out into the
corridor housing the executive suites. Melissa heard the door to the roof open
above her, followed by heavy boot steps. She snatched at the handle and yanked
it open; a split second later she was banging it shut behind her and starting
to run down the corridor.

Melissa was nearly at the corner of the
cross section when she heard the door open behind her; she was not fully around
the corner when she heard the loud sound of automatic weapon fire. The bullets
missed her, hitting the opposite wall, but the frightening sound triggered
another surge of adrenaline and Melissa charged towards the stairs. Whoever was
following her was fast and fresh, ready for the chase. As she reached the door
to the stairwell, she heard another series of blasts and felt a white-hot pain
in her left arm. It was so sudden it made her stumble but, thankfully, she
didn’t lose her footing. Melissa got through the door and started down the
stairs. She fumbled with her right hand to grab at the gun in her waistband,
pulling it free. She turned, and took aim, channelling all her concentration
into the next few seconds. The door she’d come through was shutting, almost in
slow motion, then suddenly it burst open and Melissa got her first look at the
person trying to kill her. Man or woman, she couldn’t tell; he or she being
garbed in a heavy, black fabric with a balaclava pulled over his or her face.
In large, seemingly male hands, was an assault rifle. It wasn’t quite at the
ready, and this gave Melissa a fraction of a second’s advantage; Melissa fired
at the shape, squeezing the trigger in quick succession three times. The first
hit him in the chest, and the grunt of pain confirmed Melissa’s belief that it
was a man. The second clipped his right shoulder and ushered forth a small
spray of blood against the wall. The third, however, slammed into the wall
harmlessly beside him. The impacts had winded him, and in the fraction of a
second that this afforded Melissa, she realized he was wearing body armour, so
she aimed purely out of instinct and fired at his head. The bullet smashed into
the centre of his skull, and a large spray of blood hit the wall behind him; he
sagged and went limp, before dropping to the floor. Melissa broke into a run
again. She knew there would be more; another was more than likely just a few
seconds behind him, and she was keenly aware she wouldn’t have the element of
surprise next time. She charged down the stairs just in time, as she heard a
second person entering the stairwell above her.

Heart pounding and operating purely on
instinct, Melissa crashed through the door to the next floor. She didn’t know
what to expect, but knew that staying in the stairwell was akin to having a
death wish. She intended to cross the floor and gain access to the other
staircase, proceed down, and hopefully lose her pursuer or pursuers on one of
the guest room floors. Perhaps, or rather she hoped, they would simply stop
chasing her if she got far enough away from the executive suites. But these
thoughts were nothing more than subconscious flickers; Melissa’s only conscious
impulse was to keep moving, to ignore the pain and the wet feeling running down
her arm, to carry through the cross section in the corridor and keep pushing
towards the other set of stairs. She ran forward, risking a glance over her
shoulder. She knew the next pursuer would be coming through the door at any
moment and if he or she shot at her, they’d probably hit her as Melissa was
running in a straight line. She saw a faint flash of light, presumably from the
flashlight mounted on the weapon, and Melissa swung her right arm around
instinctively, firing off a quick volley of shots in the vague direction of the
door. Would they hit anyone? Probably not, but they’d potentially buy her a few
more precious seconds. And that was all she needed. Melissa fired and fired until
she heard the click of the weapon as it ran out of ammunition. She’d
successfully held her pursuer back long enough however, and was now able to
power through the door before her assailant could take aim at her. Melissa
slammed the door shut and started down, jumping down the last few steps to the
landing, and rounding the corner. She had maybe fifteen seconds at most before
he or she came through the door above. She needed to put as much distance as
possible between her hunter and herself as she could by then.

It didn’t even register that she was
running away from one danger into a more unknown kind of danger. If there were
infected people waiting on any of the guest room floors then she’d be amongst
them before she could react. However, certain death was behind her, so Melissa
surged forward, dropping down floor after floor. She heard the door above open
and decided to hug the wall as close as she could, to avoid being visible if
someone looked down the stairwell.

“Melissa? How’s it going?” She heard Roy
ask over the radio, but ignored it. The person pursuing her didn’t though; a
series of gunshots rang down from above, fired blindly down the exposed centre
of the staircase in the hope of getting a lucky shot. A couple of bullets
slammed into the concrete near the steps Melissa was standing on, sending
little chunks of stone flying around, but neither the bullets nor the debris
connected with her. Melissa was now more than a little afraid of being hit a by
ricochet, but she determinedly pushed this fresh concern aside and kept moving
as fast as she could. She knew she needed to reload the gun but was afraid
she’d make a mistake in her haste if she did it while running. However, she
didn’t want to stop and take the chance of getting caught in the line of fire.
It was one of those situations where you were hung if you did and hung if you
didn’t.