“So you’re so depraved, your mind so warped and sick, that you can’t even explain yourself?”
Here goes. “You are one, twisted Godless bastard, you know that?”
“Mike…” This from Kate, who was understandably a little concerned about my provoking the crazy man.
His face contorted with rage, and for a moment, I thought he would end it. Appearing not to even realize what he was doing, he placed the last vial of vaccine in his shirt pocket as his hand tightened on the pistol as his arm shook convulsively in pure, distilled anger. Spittle flew from his excited lips as he sputtered to life.
“Don’t you presume to talk to me about God! It was God’s will that I saw done!”
I guffawed loudly, twisting my face with contempt. “God’s will? To murder millions of innocent people? No God I know of would be party to that kind of act.”
He moved forward, forgetting in his rage the strategy of keeping me at arm’s length. “You know no God. You have no concept of the divine will! He has inspired my every effort. Why else would I have been granted the privilege-the awesome responsibility-of discovering this exquisite device of judgment?”
He smiled, happy and content in his make-believe reality, thrilled to talk down to someone of my caliber. “You and your filthy Hollywood friends and your liberal gays; you of the abortions and the sodomy, the corrupt and the wicked. You think yourselves worthy of God’s mercy? Judgment day is upon the world, and God has chosen me to be his tool.”
I kept the smile on my face as I stepped slightly closer to the chemicals. “You’re a tool all right, but you’re not the hand of God. You’re a sad, delusional little man who’s responsible for the murder of millions of people. Dress it up how you wish, you’re a murderer, plain and simple.”
He continued to smile, my words repelled instantly from his force field of self-delusion. “I am a murderer, that is correct. But I am God’s weapon, his arm of mighty vengeance upon a world of the wicked. I was blessed with the knowledge to facilitate His will and I alone was made privy to his great prophecy of Revelation.”
Only six inches separated me from the vial on the table, and he had been keyed up by the Revelation talk. “You’re telling me that the book of Revelation commands you to design a virus that turns people into the walking dead? You’re cracked, pal. Certifiably insane. I should know.”
He didn’t like the reference to insanity. He raised the gun again, squinting in anger and disbelief that I could be so forward with one in his position. That would be the “on the handle end of the gun” position.
“God chose me to interpret His will…Revelation is a book of truth, but only to those with the eyes to read it. I was given the knowledge to hear His word and I knew what I had to do.” Triumphantly, as he squeezed the trigger slowly, he spoke in words of unmistakable finality.
“I, the hand of God and the tool of his judgment, caused the mark of the beast to be in the world and brought about the end of days.”
I moved toward the chemicals, knowing I wasn’t going to be fast enough. At the same time, the door shook, and his head jerked to the side. Given the second I needed, my fingers found the vial of chemicals and I swung my hand toward his face. A surprised scream as the pistol fired. I recoiled instantly, moving to the side as I heard him crash to the floor. I heard a grunt from my left where Kate had crumpled to the floor. Blood pooled in a sickly crimson tide next to her.
And then things got interesting.
Chapter 29
The room was plunged into darkness as the power inexplicably cut out; a loud soullessly high-pitched beep pierced the darkness and a metallic thunk sounded from the rear of the room. It was pitch black, the darkness a palpable and oppressive shroud that nevertheless afforded some level of obscurity for us, the hunted. I moved to Kate’s side and felt for a pulse. It was there, and fairly strong. There was a lot of blood, but there was nothing I could do for her if I were dead, and I was positive that the good doctor would do his best to bring about that end if he could. From behind the lab table in the front of the room, I could hear him moving quietly forward.
The silence was deafening in the pitch black, and my claustrophobia reminded me that we were forty feet underground. Suddenly, I could feel the walls closing in and the air around my head was a blanket of unbreathable air. I gasped as the oxygen was sucked from the room.
Going to pick now to buy that one-way ticket back to crazy-land? Wonderful timing.
That’s odd. It sounded almost disappointed this time. I snapped out of it when I heard the echo of my insanity, determined not to prove that voice right.
As I listened to the movement from the hall, to the things struggled to get through the locked door into the lab, I heard a very disturbing sound. A soft squealing of door against frame and a clear movement of feet against floor hit my ears. The door to the chamber that housed Mendez was opening, and he was joining the party. He moaned, heavily and deeply, and in my mind’s eye, his mouth was open, his ears perked for movement. The potential that they hunted by smell made me conscious of my own scent, and I struggled to remain still and silent.
I crawled forward through the inky void as quietly as I could, my heart pounding against my chest, hoping that my movements weren’t as audible as Kopland’s. From his position, I heard him stop. From the back of the lab, beakers shattered as they fell to the floor and feet shuffled through the broken glass. As if the person moving cared little for being detected or observed. As if they cared little about anything.
At the sound of the shattering glass, Kopland’s shuffling started again. Faster, and more audible than before, I could tell he was moving away from us, from the zombie, and towards the stairwell. I timed my crawling advance to coincide with his movements as best I could and hoped Kate would stay silent, hoped that these things couldn’t smell blood. I could tell I was gaining on him when, surprisingly, he spoke.
“Stopping me won’t change anything, you know.” He sounded concerned. As if this turn of events was distressingly unexpected. “The wheels are in motion. God’s plan has been executed.”
Mendez moved toward the sound of Kopland’s voice, feet shuffling forward, moan now loud and filled with hunger. I could smell him, the rotten stench always the precursor to the presence of the undead. I heard him hit a table and falter, a heavy thud evidencing he had encountered resistance; a frustrated moan confirming it.
Kopland was close. Very close.
From the hall outside the lab, the interlopers from the stairwell pounded against the door, providing audible cover for my crawling advance. In the darkness and despite our enmity, we listened in an uncomfortable unity for the approach of the unknown. I had to act, or my decisions would be made for me. I had had enough of that.
I shot forward, having taken my bearings from his previous comment and committing his position to memory. My shoulder struck the side of the table to my left but my right fist made contact with flesh. A grunt issued from Kopland as I bowled into him, and a deafening shot was fired. The flash from the muzzle illuminated his frightened face and I dove for what I thought was the gun hand, grasping the wrist for dear life.
He twisted and turned, his body writhing and his legs kicking. Something made contact with my jaw, stunning me for a moment. My hand almost slipped from his wrist as I pressed against the floor and drove my full weight against him. I felt the air rush from his lungs as my knee scored a lucky hit on his abdomen. The gun fired again, the flash this time muted, but joined almost immediately by a cry of pain and dismay. The gun clattered to the floor, but taken off guard by my push forward in the disorienting darkness, I tumbled over his moving body and into a wall.
Mendez howled his displeasure, still moving against the obstacle he had encountered in the pitch black, pounding its hands on the tabletop.
I could hear Kopland rise, disregarding his concern for the enemy without, as he clattered into a table toward the stairwell. I couldn’t let him escape. He still had the vaccine.
Suddenly, the lights flickered. I was blinded briefly as the room was again thrown into sharp relief. Kopland stood in front of the door to the stairwell, hand on the handle, eyes searching the floor for the pistol. It lay next to me, inches from my left hand. Our eyes met briefly before I reached for the gun; he slammed the door open. Too late, I turned and trained the weapon on the stairwell, but he had gone.
Mendez turned to me, focusing on the prey that was mere feet away, and grabbing for my arm as I whipped the pistol around. His bony hand caught my arm as I turned toward him, not realizing in my haste to stop Kopland that the creature was so close. Kate watched in horror from where she lay hidden against the table to my left.
Bracing my leg against the table that separated us for the moment, I struggled to raise the pistol. The creature before me was strong, and its smell invaded my nostrils like a swarm of rancid fruit flies. All I could see in front of me was a rotting, putrid skull; flaps of black skin hung flaccidly from a slimy face with holes in the cheeks and jaw evidence of the decay that didn’t wait for the corpse to sit still.
Eyes, bloodshot and milky, stared vacantly into my own, hunger its mute driving force. A mouth reeking of carrion and sporting yellowed teeth yawned widely in a desperate bid for my neck as he moved around the table, moved closer to me. Rotting bits of his last meal from days past still hung suspended in the cavity of its jaws. The grip on my hand loosened as it made a play for my head. I raised my gun hand quickly.
“Not this time, I’ve got a doctor’s appointment.”
I fired one shot, spraying the ceiling with the creature’s head as fragments of bone flew into the air. I returned to Kate, who had moved into a seated position. I hastily moved toward her wound, which appeared to be just a deep graze.
“That son of a bitch shot me,” she said indignantly. The locked door shook with more bodies. It was solid steel, but I knew that if we didn’t leave the room soon, the stairwell would be compromised and we would be trapped.
“If it helps, I don’t think he meant to hit you,” I said, elated that the bullet had impacted her thigh instead of a more vital organ. She had lost a lot of blood, though, and likely couldn’t move very fast.
“Glad to be your human shield, then,” she said wryly, grimacing in pain as she shifted positions. I removed my belt, using it to staunch the flow of blood.
“Look, we’ve got to move before we’re stuck down here. Can you walk?”
She tried to rise, but winced in pain and fell back to the floor.
“You’ve got to catch him. He’s got the vaccine. I’ll be fine in here. They can’t get through these doors, so if the stairwell’s clear you can come back for me.”
I shook my head. “Not going to happen. I can’t leave you down here, and you know it.”
Her face contorted in anger. “You better fucking well leave me here, or you’ve dragged me out here to die for no reason. We need that vaccine-my daughter needs that vaccine-and it’s up to you to get it. Now get the fuck out of here. Now!”
Taken off guard by her vehemence, I leaned back and looked at her face. She was serious, and I was wasting time. I nodded curtly and stood up. Taking a step toward the door, I paused. Moving on a combination of instinct and desire, I swiftly turned back and bent down to where she sat. Ignoring her surprised look, I pressed my lips against hers. Time passed too quickly as we said silently what couldn’t be expressed in words. Slowly, I pulled away. Her eyes were still closed as I stood up.
“I will be back for you.”
Without opening her eyes, she laid her head back against the side of the table. “I know.”
I tore myself away from the picture of her beautiful face and moved to the door. I pressed my ear against the cold steel, listening for the sounds of movement. Nothing.
Pressing my hand against the steel bar, I pushed my shoulder into the door and moved into the stairwell. A minute trail of red blood led up the stairs to my right. Making sure the door was shut behind me, I followed the trail.
The stairwell rose for two floors before the trail of blood ended at the ground level door. The stairs rose one more level to what must have been roof access, but I slowly opened the door to what must have been the outside of the ground level. To my right, the door to what should have been the entrance to the facility through which we had come only an hour before.
I shoved the door open, and emerged into an open-air hallway. It stretched to my left, appearing to follow the contours of the building around to the rear. A canopy overhead protected the concrete ground from precipitation and the elements, and chain link cages followed the hallway until it disappeared out of sight to the rear of the building. These were the cages that we had seen in Kopland’s office on the monitors.
As I moved slowly forward, following the small drops of blood on the gray floor, I allowed my eyes to flicker to the cages. Scraps of red and brown material were spread unevenly on the floors, against the walls, even between the links of the fencing. In some instances, streaks of bloody material bore witness to the savagery with which the creatures devoured their meals.
It became apparent as I moved past each cell that they had not been occupied in days. The bloody evidence of their last occupation was brown and crusted, and each door to the outside stood open, visions of the grounds peering through at me through rectangular windows. No ghouls moved in the rear of the building, outside these cages, nor were any of the interior doors opened. Whatever caused the exterior doors to open had thankfully left the interior gates locked.
I followed the pathway to the rear edge of the building, and stopped before turning the corner. Something told me that I should slow down. Kopland was clearly on his way somewhere, and he knew the place better than I did, obviously. I caught myself wondering which cage Maria had been in when that video was taken and in that same thought was disgusted at her involvement. How could she have been a willing participant in something so horribly wrong? How could she-how could any of these scientists-see what they saw on a daily basis, and go home to their wives and husbands? To their children?