HAYWIRE: A Pandemic Thriller (The F.A.S.T. Series Book 2) (17 page)

There are hundreds
, realized Coleman.
They just keep coming.

He heard Erin yelling at the healthy passengers to hurry. His plan suddenly felt inadequate.

Too late now.

He was committed.

Slowing them even a few seconds would save lives.

Coleman opened the orange box. The instructions had seemed simple. The most important instruction was printed in block letters:

‘REMOVE FROM CHEST BEFORE ACTIVATING!’

I don’t have time for that.

With the horde just ten feet away, Coleman yanked the cord marked ‘INFLATE’.

Rubber and vinyl exploded from the chest.

Coleman witnessed a colorful blur.

Compressed gas inflated the emergency life raft instantly. The inflating raft crammed itself into the corridor. Part of the raft inflated where Coleman was kneeling.

He had no chance to retreat.

The impact knocked him flying backward.

A moment after he landed, Coleman learned why the raft should never be inflated inside its storage chest.

The heavy chest rocketed down the corridor like a square missile.

Coleman ducked from its flight path.

The chest
smashed
through the ship’s outer railing. Glass and wood showered out over the ocean. A long section of handrail tore from the deck and disappeared over the side.

I hope that doesn’t hit anyone swimming for the lifeboats
, Coleman thought.

He turned and watched the inflated raft nervously.

The raft had jammed itself into the corridor.

The horde hit the raft like a bunch of kids running headlong into a bouncing castle.

The raft warped and stretched, but stayed wedged in place, completely blocking the hallway.

It worked,
thought Coleman.

Not exactly as he’d imagined, but close enough.

Scooping up his rifle, he dashed back to Erin.

‘What did you do?’ she asked, looking wide-eyed at the gaping hole in the ship’s railing.

‘I didn’t follow the instructions,’ he replied. ‘But I’ve only slowed them down.’

Erin had nearly cleared the deck of passengers, but the stairwell was packed wall-to-wall with people struggling to reach the lower decks.

They weren’t moving fast enough.

The last man on the stairs looked completely disoriented. He looked up the stairs at Coleman. Like half the ship, the man still wore his pajamas.

Blood covered his face and chest from a deep gash that began above his left eye and cut up into his scalp. His eyes looked stark white against the dark blood. He clutched his wounded left hand.

‘Don’t look back,’ Coleman shouted at the man. ‘Get down the stairs and swim to the lifeboats. I’ll hold them as long as I can. Don’t look back!’

The man looked like he wanted to say something, but he nodded and obeyed Coleman’s instructions.

Coleman looked over the railing.

He was rewarded with the sight of people in yellow life jackets leaping into the water two decks down. More were climbing over the railing in their place.

There they are. They’re doing it!

They were following Erin’s instructions.

‘They’re swimming for the lifeboats,’ said Coleman.

Erin’s radio crackled loudly. ‘Erin! Can you hear me? Erin?’

‘I hear you,’ Erin replied.

‘Listen to me,’ radioed Bryant. ‘The pack has split up. You only stopped half of them. The rest are circling around behind you!’

Erin spun.

Behind her, Coleman saw a mass of sick passengers erupt onto the deck thirty feet away.

Myers heard the crowd charging toward the atrium.

Christ - how many are there?

The sound of feet grew louder and louder.

Myers never felt so alert in his life. He felt like half his blood had turned to adrenalin.

He reloaded his XREP.

The weapon held six rounds.

How can we hold this atrium against an army of these lunatics?

‘How are you for ammo?’ asked Craigson.

‘Half out,’ replied Myers. ‘You?’

‘Same.’

‘If this goes pear-shaped,’ began Myers, ‘we’ll break off and withdraw to the bridge. Like the Captain said.’

Craigson nodded.

Myers lifted his rifle. Passengers surged into view.

In the first few moments, he couldn’t tell healthy from hostile.

One thing was certain.

There were lots of them.

People poured into the atrium.

‘They’re healthy!’ yelled Craigson.

Myers saw it too.

He saw fear on their faces.

These people were running for their lives.

Both Marines lowered their weapons, stepped aside and began waving the healthy passengers between them and toward the lifeboats.

‘This way!’ yelled Craigson. ‘Keep going! Come on, hurry!’

A flood of people surged past them.

Myers counted at least fifty people.

He keyed his radio. ‘Captain. We’re sending more than fifty healthy passengers your way. Are the lifeboats clear?’

After a pause, Myers prepared to repeat the message.

‘Send them to the portside lifeboats!’ Coleman radioed back. ‘The starboard boats are all gone. Anyone on the starboard side needs to jump and swim to safety!’

The Captain sounded desperate.

‘Head to the portside lifeboats,’ Myers yelled over the crowd. ‘The starboard boats are gone!’

‘Don’t push!’ yelled Craigson.

The crowd began pushing and screaming from the back.

Myers realized why.

‘Hostiles!’

‘Where?’ Craigson yelled.

Myers glimpsed them through the crowd, but couldn’t get a clear shot. He moved for a better angle.

Then he saw.

A large group of hostile passengers were chasing the healthy ones.

In fact, the chase was over. The two groups overlapped. Sick passengers began tearing healthy passengers from the back of the group.

Pure chaos erupted.

Myers aimed, but in the confusion couldn’t tell the healthy from the hostile.

Then he saw the difference.

He knew how to tell them apart.

‘Life vests!’ Myers radioed at Craigson. ‘The hostiles aren’t wearing life vests!’

Myers felt stupid for not noticing this earlier. Only healthy passengers would have donned their life vests when the alarm sounded.

Myers opened fire.

He began dropping hostiles. A moment later he heard the -
crack
...
crack
...
crack
- of Craigson’s weapon discharging.

Working from either side, the Marines managed to clear a space between the healthy and hostile passengers.

As Myers reloaded, he saw the last three healthy passengers flee down the hallway toward the lifeboats.

He and Craigson had given the large group a fighting chance.

Three more sickies charged into the atrium.

Crack! Crack! Crack!

When Craigson’s rounds hit the hostiles, it knocked them clean off their feet. As those three targets fell, six more rounded the corner in their place.

Behind them came another six.

And then another six.

Myers couldn’t see where the group of hostiles ended.

It’s an army of the crazy bastards!

‘Let’s move!’ yelled Craigson.

Myers completely agreed.
If we don’t withdraw we’ll be overrun.

They couldn’t hold the atrium any longer. At best they could stage a staggered retreat through the corridors to slow down the hostiles.

Both Marines backed from the hostiles.

‘Save your ammo for the corridors,’ yelled Craigson.

Myers nodded, but suddenly caught movement in his peripheral vision.

Oh, no. Not now.

He and Craigson weren’t the only healthy people in the atrium.

A woman in a wheelchair and a teenage boy entered the atrium.

Myers
saw their predicament instantly.

The woman couldn’t travel with the large group of panicking passengers. If she fell from her chair, she’d be trampled.

Instead, these two were using stealth.

Seeing the atrium momentarily clear, they were cutting across.

From their angle, they couldn’t see the hostiles running into the atrium beyond the service counters.

Had they timed it ten seconds earlier, they might have made it
, thought Myers.

Now they stood no chance.