LZR-1143: Redemption (26 page)

“I see it,” I said, uneasy. “I don’t like it. Why are they all trapped in there? What’s the story?”

Kate walked behind Ky, gun at the ready as she whispered.

“Could be like King’s Park. There’s a failsafe lockdown protocol. Not sure why they’d have that at a school. My guess is that something went wrong when the alarms went off. Something with the maglocks. Engineers at the Park always complained about those things going screwy when the electricity went haywire. Maybe something like that.”

“So these guys are locked in to the buildings?” Ky asked, voice upbeat.

“That’s what it looks like,” I said, still uneasy, but unsure why.

“Contact,” whispered Rhodes, motioning us to take cover behind the parked truck. We all went down fast, waiting for the whisper of his gun.

It didn’t come.

He stood, motionless for a moment, then his voice rose slightly. Only a small fraction of an octave, but for him, it was like a scream.

“We need to leave, now.”

I stood, following his gaze.

Between where the parking lot and the utility building stood and the hospital’s back side, a two-lane road passed through. We stood near the sidewalk for the small road, looking back toward the bridge we had passed under. Conveniently, the road we now stood next to led directly to the access ramp for the interstate that crossed that bridge.

And several thousand enterprising zombies were now shuffling down this road toward us. My only guess was that they had followed the sound of the boat.

“Let’s go, now!” I yelled, ignoring the caution of quiet. They were too close. There was no hiding from them as they passed between the large buildings lining the road, out of place, cute signs directing people to various offices or residences.

We shot across the roadway onto a sidewalk and up the short hill to the right, rounding the grass-lined side yard of the hospital as the massive crowd of creatures surged forward, the front-most individuals, faster than the rest of the pack, tottering within fifty feet.

I knew how we could miss them from the water—the buildings were too tall and the creatures too silent. From our vantage point in the water, they were invisible.

But knowing how the mistake had been made didn’t make it easier to fix.

Ky screamed once as a small group of five or six rose suddenly from where they had been laying on the ground near the road, appearing as bodies until they heard our approach, then lifting from the ground as if pulled by strings from the heavens. Their heads swiveled toward us as we passed within ten feet, their arms scrambling awkwardly on the concrete to push their prone bodies from the ground.

To our right, as we passed the brick building that lined the lake, we could see the massive outline of the football stadium, the huge insignia of the college team plastered against the side of the large wall. Movement on the field in front of the hospital was a bad sign, and I saw nearly a hundred of the creatures spread out across the space, all moving slowly toward us as they moved from a milling, pointless shamble or a prone position, toward the source of the noise.

And hopefully the source of dinner.

We rounded the side of the hospital and I blinked as the first rays of sunlight were starting to pierce the darkness on the horizon. We needed to move quickly.

Briefly, I remembered the days when I welcomed the hint of sunrise over a beautiful scene—when I savored the promise of a new day arriving, the potential of things unknown.

Now, things unknown would kill me, and sunlight hurt like a bitch.

Before us, the slightly elevated circle of long, unkempt grass and weeds where there was once a showcase of greenery in front of an immaculately manicured front entrance contained eagerly moving corpses. The large sign with the medical center’s name was shattered on the cement of the sidewalk, pieces of glass and plastic strewn across the roadway, following the wreckage of an ambulance that lay on its side against the far edge of another outbuilding between the hospital and the stadium. The partially eaten, rotting corpse of a patient, still strapped to the gurney near the shattered rear doors of the vehicle, moaned balefully at us as we passed between the wreckage and the lawn.

The remnants of a haphazard military cordon around the manicured lawn were barely discernible as a jumble of overturned barricades, abandoned Humvees, and half-constructed sandbag walls. Several of the meandering zombies bore the uniform of the National Guard, consistent with the General’s assessment of the force-protection status of the hospital when they lost contact with the Doctor weeks ago.

Kate screamed suddenly, then cut herself off as she pressed a hand to her mouth. Rhodes cursed silently, raising his weapon and slowing his advance.

We had turned the corner toward the main entrance, making our way to the left, where a narrow concrete ramp led gradually down to a solid, windowless gray door, roughly one floor below the ground level. But as we turned that corner, angling toward the starkly advertised “Advanced Treatments” sign barely visible above the ramp, I held in my own gasp, instead taking a sharp breath.

The entire facade of the hospital’s seven stories on the front side was made of glass. I supposed because Seattle gets so little sunlight in large portions of the year, it was an architectural decision that was much applauded when the building was designed and built. Natural light for the sick and the recovering patients. No brainer, right?

I had good money on the fact they never imagined this.

Thousands of creatures were pressed against the thick glass, bloody, pulpy fists and palms and faces smearing effluent and drool and blood against the shatterproof clear surfaces.

The lobby.

The emergency room.

Every floor above. Maternity wards. Cancer patients. Trauma.

Infectious diseases.

They were all dead. And they were all hungry.

They were kept inside by some glitch of the campus’ systems, either some freak accident of technical oversight, or an intentional reversal of normal systems’ operations.

The bodies thrashed violently against the windows as we were forced to approach them, fleeing from those behind, avoiding those that approached, we neared the glass, flinching at the proximity.

The thick clear material could keep them contained, that was obvious. But it couldn’t keep their voices from being heard. It was a chorus of hungry moans and slamming fists. Feet shuffling mindlessly against an echoing glass enclosure.

Like so many animals in a morbid, horrific zoo, we watched them, spellbound, as we neared the glass and skirted the edge of the hospital to follow the narrow walkway down.

“This is it, right?” said Rhodes, his voice concerned as we dropped below street level, the first of the large herd appearing around the corner and moving inexorably toward us.

“Yes,” I said shortly, moving past Kate and Ky toward the front, the codes in my head flashing to the front of my brain.

“If it’s not—” he began, but I cut him off.

“I know. If we can’t get in, we’re not getting out of here.”

The narrow cement passageway was nearly fifteen feet below the surface above, descending sharply, parallel to the front facade of the hospital. If we couldn’t get in through this door, it would be a death trap. We would die, torn to pieces in the small concrete tomb.

At the bottom of the ramp, the passage turned sharply to the right, where the door sat, firmly shut, thick riveted bolts around the edge a testament to the hardened steel and concrete construction behind.

Another small sign, marked “Advanced Treatments” hung awkwardly from one screw over the keypad to the right of the door. It had been pulled or knocked askew, dangled like a rotten fruit from the rusty perch.

I didn’t pause and flew to the keypad, as the first several creatures reached the top of the ramp, eyes locked on Ky and Kate as Romeo began to bark, even sprinting briefly toward the creatures above and snapping at them before bolting back to Ky and standing, shivering, next to her upraised arm, where a crossbow was held in a rock-steady hand. Kate’s Pathfinder spoke twice, and I heard her reloading with explosive shells. Rhodes was kneeling and firing pinpoint shots into the quickly thickening crowd as they pressed forward.

The bodies tumbled and slowed the press behind, as the corpses stumbled and fell over one another in a rush forward.

“You hungry? Take a bite of this!” yelled Kate, and we all instinctively flinched as the roar of the explosive rounds shook the enclosed space. As I started to punch the code into the dusty pad, I heard the sickening sound of flesh exploding and splattering against the walls to either side of the passageway.

My fingers flew on the keypad, and I slammed my finger against the ‘enter’ key as I heard the whispering rounds fly from Rhodes gun and Romeo’s frantic barks.

Next to the keypad, a red light flashed twice.

Nothing.

Fuck me.

Kate yelled again, and the shotgun spoke again, firmly and loudly. Ky screamed, and I heard the loud popping of a nine-millimeter. Rhodes was down to his sidearm, and Kate was preparing to fire again. The press of bodies had slowed through the carnage and body parts that had accumulated in the narrow space, but they were coming forward, now numbering in the hundreds beyond the bottleneck of the passageway.

I slowed, taking a breath and punching in the numbers slowly, the nine-digit code flashing through my brain on speed dial.

Rhodes yelled.

“I’m out!”

He pushed Ky behind him and drew a short machete from his hip.

“One more!” yelled Kate, and her gun exploded.

Ky fired a bolt over Rhodes’ shoulder as Kate’s round decimated another row of corpses, their heads and torsos shattering in a fiery rain of flesh into those behind.

I took a breath and pressed ‘enter.’

Next to the keypad, a red light flashed twice.

Crap crap crap crap crap crap.

The numbers were right. I knew they were.

Kate looked at me, locking eyes on mine. She held up one finger.

One round left.

I took a breath and tried one last time.

5 – 4 – 9…

Rhodes’ pistol popped five times in succession.

Ky screamed again, her crossbow twanging loudly.

4 – 8 – 8…

Kate’s shotgun spoke. In the midst of the exploding flesh, the moans were louder now, and I heard the sound of limbs scrambling against concrete.

Rhodes cursed loudly, and I heard him grunt as the slide on his pistol locked back and his ammo finally went dry.

9 – 1 – 2…

Kate screamed as she took the head off the first of the creatures to scramble through the mess of bodies and body parts. Smoke obscured the hundreds that I knew were already in the narrow passageway. Heads appeared in the mist of gun smoke, and Ky was backed against me, a single bolt remaining, leveled at the herd.

The keypad spoke.

Kate was a whirlwind of blades and fury, and Rhodes retreated behind her, giving her space in the tight confines as he held his arm at an awkward angle in front of him.

Two green lights blinked in quick succession, and the door suddenly cracked open, revealing a dark passageway behind, and allowing a burst of dank, stale air to escape.

I threw Ky through the opening and helped Rhodes through.

“Kate!”

She was in a haze of battle, arms moving faster than I could track, blades a cyclone of metal and hatred.

“We’re in! Kate!”

Her eyes were wild, her body a machine.

I knew the fury. I knew the pain.

They were everywhere. She wouldn’t last. She couldn’t.

They were legion. Bodies filled the void, pressed against concrete and surging forward. She could kill every single one and she would still die of suffocation, as they piled atop one another, sensing food and tasting blood.

She had to stop.

“Your daughter needs you! Get your ass inside now!”

As if she had been punched in the gut, she collapsed backward, legs reluctantly giving way as she disengaged suddenly, turning in a flash of metal to sprint through the door.

Blood and smoke were in my nostrils as I pulled the heavy door shut behind me, hearing it click home with a solid latch. Somewhere, something beeped twice as bodies slammed against the thick metal entryway, fists pounding against the unyielding surface.

We were in total darkness.

Next to me, I heard Kate begin to weep.

THIRTY-NINE

The air was cool and musty, much like the air inside a newly arrived commercial airliner after a long flight.

When such things existed, anyway.

Ky sat near Kate on the floor as she collected herself, and I gave her some water, knowing the pain of the battle madness, and how it stressed the heart. She was taking deep breaths, and I was trying to attend to Rhodes.

It wasn’t a bite, thankfully.

In the madness outside, Kate had pushed him to the side and he fell on the arm at a bad angle. It wasn’t a bite, but it wasn’t good.

The compound fracture had pushed a shard of bone from his forearm through the skin, and he was pale and weak in the faint light of my flashlight. Blood covered his arm, and I had wrapped it as tightly as I could without him passing out from the pain.

He had popped two high potency painkillers and was staring at the wall.

The hallway extended nearly twenty meters forward, then made a ninety-degree turn at the end, obscuring visibility. Other than the flashlights and a faint red glow near the corner where the hallway turned, there was no light. Several old posters and flyers were attached to the white wall, and on the right hand side of the passage, a fire extinguisher hung, alone in the expanse of empty wall.

I stood, wiping bloody hands on my filthy pants. My eyes had adjusted to the dark quickly, so I flipped the light to low and handed it to Ky, who was still sitting next to Kate, talking softly.

In the background, the hands and arms continued to slam against the metal door, as hundreds of the mindless creatures clustered in the narrow concrete passageway outside.

Inside, there was no noise. No indication that anyone was here, or ever had been.

It felt wrong.

I pulled the small, waterproofed sheet from my cargo pocket again, scanning the instructions and the map. I knew we were where we were supposed to be. The code proved that, and our location was precisely where indicated on the map. I stared at the last bit of instructions on the paper, marked simply “proceed inside,” as if the person writing the curt instruction book had run out of information.

Well, my happy ass had proceeded inside.

Now what, you know-it-all bastards?

“I’m going to check out the passageway,” I said to Kate, and she nodded once, trying to give me a wan smile.

“Don’t worry. I’m just trying to find a Krispy Kreme. You want glazed?”

Ky looked up.

“That’s just straight cruel, man.”

I chuckled once, and checked on Rhodes. He was out cold.

I checked his pulse and breathed easier. Steady and strong. The painkillers must have kicked in.

“Come on, Romeo. Time to earn your keep.”

The dog vaulted forward, one paw slightly favored where he had gotten stepped on in the melee outside tearing at a creature’s leg when it got too close to Ky. She had told me about it proudly when handing him a full energy bar—one of the last ones we had.

My footsteps echoed slightly as the dog ranged ahead, disappearing around the corner as I drew the pistol and held it loosely, removing the safety with a firm flick of the thumb.

I followed the sound of the dog’s heavy breathing, listening for his footfalls as I turned the corner. The source of the red glow was clear, now. A large red emergency light still glowed fitfully, blinking at odd intervals above another thick door. Several plaques were arrayed around the large entryway, and a thick glass window with a curtain drawn across it on the other side was located to the right. Two overstuffed armchairs sat in front of the door, bracketing a small table strewn with magazines that were old, even when this thing originally hit. Dead plants in the corner shook slightly as Romeo squeezed between the furniture, nose to the ground.

I approached the door, reading the signage on both sides.

Access restricted to patients and staff only. Please press buzzer if no attendant is on duty.

Below that, a more serious warning.

Patients are advised that in accord with regulations found in 14 CSR 476, no warranty is made regarding treatment results. All undertakings are at the patients’ own risk.

A poster of a smiling nurse administering an injection to a smiling patient rounded out the creepy feeling.

Felt like a damn medical creep show down here.

Romeo was at the door, and raised his uninjured paw to the crack between the door and the frame. Another keypad, identical to the one outside, was blinking slowly.

A yellow light.

I grabbed the handle, pulling the door toward me, expecting it to be locked.

It pulled freely, coming easily outward into the small waiting area.

Getting creepier.

I put my ear bud in, and tried out my microphone.

“Kate, you getting this?”

It hissed slightly, and I heard the static of a receiver being positioned.

Then, “Yeah, what’s up.”

Her voice was soft, but strong.

“Just wanted company,” I said.

“You want us to come up?” she asked seriously.

“No, stay with Rhodes. I don’t think it’s dangerous, just really creepy,” I said, opening the door completely and finding another dark hallway beyond, this one lined with doors on each side. Another red emergency light illuminated the hallway from the other end. Romeo was halfway to the end already.

“What’s going on?”

“Flashbacks to Starling Mountain,” I said softly, my gun in front of me, ready to fire as the small pinprick of red from the laser sight danced along the wall. Every door was shut tightly, a small clipboard attached to each, with small, non-descript room numbers centered in the top quarter. A large poster describing common blood diseases was affixed crookedly next to a bulletin board with a single flyer advertising a cat for adoption. The date was six months ago.

I would welcome the life of the undead if I worked here.

Romeo stopped at the end of the hall, nose twitching furiously until he turned around and stopped outside the last door on the left. I followed carefully, checking each door cautiously as I passed them.

The dog simply stopped and sat, head cocked as it stared at the door, which was slightly cracked—a change from the others, which had been sealed solid.

He looked up at me as I approached, and I turned toward the door, backing away and keeping the gun up.

“Might have something,” I said softly into the mic. “Stand by.”

Romeo sensed my impatience, and his red nose shot between the door and the frame, widening the gap until he could squeeze through. The door opened slowly as his cropped tail disappeared into the room. I followed, my boot pushing the door wider, and my eyes squinting in the darkness.

I scanned the shapes of the room, seeing what I expected. An empty bed, some medical equipment, a small machine on a countertop, a sink, and a narrow, short wardrobe. Romeo was on the other side of the bed, and I passed the closed door of a small bathroom, entering the room and finding him hunched over a small bowl full of what looked like dog food.

“What did you find?” I whispered, kneeling down.

The hiss of fury as the small shape shot from underneath the bed and into the hallway was the only warning I had. Romeo exploded in a deluge of mindless barking and scrambled against the tiled floor, legs pin wheeling as he shot into the hallway.

“Mother fu—” I jumped up and ran after the dog.

The small shape was back at the main door, cornered. It turned around, the fur on its back standing straight up, lips pulled back in a furious snarl. Romeo tore after it, stopping wisely only five feet away, hackles raised, teeth bared.

It was a damn cat.

“Romeo, come,” I said wearily, not bothering to yell.

He backed up, hackles still erect, eyes not leaving the tiny interloper.

“Now,” I said sternly.

He gave up the chase, turning his back reluctantly on the fierce adversary and trotting to my side.

“I heard some noise,” Kate’s voice came through the microphone. “I’m on my way.”

“Don’t worry,” I said, kneeling down to examine the somewhat emaciated but still lively cat, whose orange and black stripes gave it the look of a small tiger. It stared at me with hatred, eyes narrowed and mouth snarling.

Typical cat.

“It’s just a cat,” I laughed.

My sentence was cut short by a booming thunder against the door at the end of the hall, near where the cat had been holed up.

“Stand by,” I said, standing up and turning back to the door.

Arms and hands were crashing against the door in a frenzied sequence, and I allowed my head to slump to my chest.

We were surrounded.

We were trapped.

We would die here. No hope. No cure.

Then, my ears brought me out of the trance.

The door shook again and I stood up straight.

It wasn’t the random, hungry staccato of the undead. It was the anxious, frenzied beat of a human.

A human who was looking for his cat.