HAYWIRE: A Pandemic Thriller (The F.A.S.T. Series Book 2) (16 page)

Craigson didn’t give her a second chance. He planted his boot in her stomach and kicked.

She stumbled back and then collapsed. She hit the floor in a fit of convulsions.

Behind her, Myers lowered his XREP.

Craigson reloaded his rifle.

Myers rose and studied the three bodies on the floor.

‘What are you thinking?’ asked Craigson.

‘I’m thinking that we just had our asses kicked by three hairdressers,’ replied Myers. ‘And I’ve used half my ammunition.’

Craigson counted his magazines.

‘Same here.’

‘These less-lethal weapons aren’t enough,’ complained Myers. ‘This entire ship is full of lunatics.’

‘We’re not fighting the entire ship,’ replied Craigson. ‘We only have to hold the atrium. Let’s go.’

Myers wrenched the wooden spear from the chair’s head rest. He tossed it away.

‘What the hell is wrong with these people? They look...I don’t know...brain damaged or something.’

‘Shhhhh,’ hissed Craigson as they stepped back into the atrium.

‘What is it?’ asked Myers.

Craigson cupped a hand to his ear. The sound of people running in their direction grew louder.

‘More are coming,’ replied Craigson. ‘A lot more. Get ready.’

Myers shook his head and lifted his rifle. ‘I hope the Captain knows what he’s doing.’

Forest and King battled toward the lifeboats.

Forest stopped to listen.

The evacuation siren made listening hard, but Forest could still discern the difference between sick and healthy passengers.

The healthy passengers ran in spurts. Their footsteps sounded furtive.

The sick passengers ran with abandon. They ran fast. They didn’t care who heard. They didn’t pause. They just searched for their next victim.

Forest listened to the pounding feet heading his way from a side corridor.

A group of sick passengers were pursuing a group of healthy ones.

‘King! I have hostiles!’

He raised his rifle and took a deep breath.

Here they come. Concentrate on their faces
. The truth is in their faces.

People sprinted around the corner into Forest’s view.

He couldn’t hesitate. Not in these confined hallways. Hesitation would get him overwhelmed like Easterbrook.

A large man rounded the corner first. He carried a teenager over one shoulder. In the other hand he carried a long piece of metal.

This guy wasn’t crazy.

His face showed nothing but sheer determination.

Behind them came four people who had clearly lost their minds. The savagery in their expressions left Forest no doubt they were in a killing frenzy.

The fleeing man spotted Forest.

Instead of blocking Forest’s line of fire, he dropped to the carpet. He covered the girl’s body with his own.

Forest fired four rapid shots. He didn’t have time to aim carefully.

In the mayhem, he hit one man twice.

One attacker kept coming.

‘Damn it!’ Forest swore, reaching for another magazine.

But the man on the carpet leaped to his feet and attacked.

He swung the piece of metal in a huge overhead arc.

Crack!

Steel met skull.

As usual, steel won.

The last pursuer collapsed with a concave forehead.

Forest finished reloading his LSR as the man helped the girl up. Her breathing sounded terrible. She wheezed with every breath. She held something to her mouth and leaned on the wall. She had a Ventolin inhaler.

‘We can’t stop,’ Forest instructed.

‘My granddaughter is having an asthma attack,’ said the man, peering into the nearest cabin. ‘We have to stop. It’s okay. We’re almost at the lifeboats. I’m a cop. I’ll get her there. You guys just make sure the lifeboats are clear.’

Forest shook his head. ‘Carry her.’

The man took two steps into the cabin and swung his metal shaft at something behind the door. Forest heard a –
clang!
– of metal on metal, and then the door began closing.

The man grabbed the door, having disabled whatever mechanism held it open. He helped his granddaughter inside.

‘Carrying her is suicide,’ said the man. ‘I can’t carry her and fight. She’ll be on her feet again in a minute. We’ve gotten this far. You just get the lifeboats clear and we’ll meet you there.’

Forest couldn’t stop to argue.

He glanced at the weapon the man had fashioned. He’d unscrewed the solid metal leg off a dining table. It had gotten him this far. That and his training.

‘I’ll watch for you,’ said Forest. ‘But don’t be long. The lifeboats won’t wait.’

‘Understood,’ replied the man, closing the door to protect his granddaughter until she recovered.

Forest turned and looked for King.

Where the hell is he? Did he push on ahead without me?

The sound of nearby combat provided a solid clue. Forest dashed around the corner and discovered King in hand-to-hand combat.

Sergeant King had shouldered his less-lethal XREP.

Instead, he wielded a shovel.

Forest watched King swing the shovel like a fly swatter. Nothing was getting past the giant man. Nothing still conscious anyway. King used every part of the shovel, both offensively and defensively. He looked like he’d trained with one for years.

As Forest reached King, only two hostiles were left.

King charged them, holding the shovel sideways.

The man and woman fell like dandelions under a lawn mower.

Before they could rise, King knocked them senseless with the shovel’s flat blade.

Clang! Clang!

King leaped over them without a backward glance.

‘King!’ called Forest.

This wasn’t teamwork. King was just berserking ahead like some kind of rampaging giant.

‘KING!’ yelled Forest. ‘STOP!

King halted reluctantly.

Forest hurried to reach his friend. ‘Back in the pool I stopped someone ramming a garden pick through your head. I can’t do that if I can’t see you.’

King nodded and wiped sweat from his eyes.

‘We’re a team,’ said Forest. ‘Remember?’

King’s readjusted his helmet and glanced back at Forest.

‘Then keep up.’

The lifeboats are right around this corner
, thought Coleman.

‘Wait!’ blurted Erin.

She lifted her radio.

First Officer Bryant spoke over her radio. ‘Listen to me, Erin. Hundreds of healthy passengers are heading your way.’

‘We’ll get them on the lifeboats,’ replied Erin.

‘Listen!’ insisted Bryant. ‘You’re not listening, Erin. The starboard lifeboats are gone, and there’s a large
pack of hostile passengers behind you. They’re right behind you!’

Coleman had heard enough.

A large group of healthy passengers were about to reach a dead end in more ways than one. Unless he thought of something quickly, he and Erin would be among them.

He dashed onto the outer deck.

All the starboard lifeboats were gone, like Bryant said.

Bryant was also correct about the fleeing healthy passengers. They surged onto the outer deck, peering left and right as though unable to comprehend the missing lifeboats.

‘They’re gone!’ a woman yelled. ‘They’re all gone!’

More and more terrified passengers pushed onto the outer deck. Their reactions approached hysteria.

The hostiles are heading this way
, thought Coleman.
If they catch the healthy passengers like this it will be a bloodbath.

Coleman needed two things. He needed to slow down the hostiles and he needed to get these two hundred healthy passengers off the ship.

Erin cut Coleman’s problems in half.

She jumped onto a bright orange chest.

‘Listen to me!’ she yelled, holding up her radio. ‘Listen to me. I’m talking to the First Officer. The lifeboats haven’t left without us. They’re waiting for you!’

Erin pointed over the railing. The lifeboats had moved only a short distance from the ship.

‘You need to swim to them,’ Erin instructed. ‘They’re waiting to pick you up!’

A dozen people instantly leaped over the railing.

‘We can’t jump that far!’ someone yelled.

‘Go down two levels,’ Erin instructed. ‘It’s a safe jump from there. Hurry! Go!’

‘Look. They made it!’ yelled a woman, pointing over the railing.

The people who had leaped over the railing began swimming toward the waiting lifeboats. Several more people jumped, but most began crowding down the stairwell to the lower level.

‘Hurry!’ Erin yelled at them, waving them down the stairs with her radio. ‘Go! Go!’

Erin jumped down in front of Coleman.

‘We need to give them time,’ she said. ‘Just two minutes. That’s enough time.’

Coleman studied the chest Erin had climbed on. Instructions and diagrams covered the large orange box.

‘I can do that,’ he said. ‘Keep these people moving.’

Coleman hauled the large orange box back toward the corridor. If he wasn’t fast enough, the hordes of violent passengers would engulf him like a tidal wave and reach the terrified passengers.

The hostiles sounded close.

He could
feel
them coming.

The deck vibrated as though a huge beast was squeezing itself through the corridors toward him.

That is the sound of evil
, realized Coleman.

It sounded monstrous.

It sounded terrifying.

And it had arrived.

Coleman looked up as the pack rounded the corner.

They were twenty feet away.

They spotted him.

Coleman hadn’t seen anything more repulsive in his life. Racing each other, the hostile passengers jammed so close together he could barely make out individual shapes. They filled and spilled into the corridor like water. Their faces radiated such fury and loathing that Coleman knew exactly what they were thinking.

They wanted to tear him apart.

They wanted to crush him to pulp under their shoes.

They reacted as though all human life was their enemy, and Coleman represented all human life.

In their frenzy to reach him they began tripping each other. The passengers that tripped just disappeared under the mob.