The Zone: A Post-Apocalyptic Thriller (Infection Chronicles Book 1) (20 page)

The greedy woman, who tried to take Chloe's gun, looked the same way—only a little worse. Her eyes were starting to glaze over, and had an almost milky haze to them. Nothing too overt. Just barely noticeable. Steele was too preoccupied to pay the symptoms much attention. But this woman had been in the stairwell gazing upwards during his rampage against the lurkers. She, more than likely, had microscopic particles of infected blood drop in
 
her eyes. And she probably wasn’t the only one. It was only a matter of time before they turned. 

Steele paused when he came to Gabriel, the man he had freed from Raddick’s prison. “You and I need to talk at some point.” 

Gabriel nodded, knowingly. 

Steele handed him a bar, and continued down the line. Raddick’s warning about the virus becoming airborne repeated in Steele’s mind. He wanted answers. It seemed Gabriel might have them.

Steele commandeered a few jackets. He zipped them up and pushed the sleeves inside the torso. Then he threaded two large broomsticks through the arms, making a temporary stretcher. It wasn’t perfect, but it would transport Xavier effectively and with less disruption to his wounds.

According to the map, the nearest junction to the mainline of the storm drain was on Canal Street. It would be large enough to walk through. According to the municipal code, the diameter of the mainline had a minimum of 14 feet. But the tributaries that fed it would be smaller. A quick glance at the specifications in the database revealed a minimum 4 foot diameter. A person would be able to crawl through them, but it wouldn’t be practical for a group of forty. Especially when one of them was wounded.

Steele climbed up to the roof of the shop to get a better view of the area. Raddick and his men were still out there, somewhere. But Steele couldn’t see or hear the LAVs. The city was quiet. The sky was heavy and thick with clouds. Rain began to drizzle down again, and it looked like more was coming.

Steele climbed down and gathered the refugees. They loaded into the vehicles and drove three blocks over to Canal Street. Steele dashed to the middle of the intersection and lifted the manhole cover. The heavy lid ground against the concrete as he pulled it aside. Rungs, protruding from the concrete shaft, led down to the mainline. He could hear the flow of water rushing through the drain. The musty air wafted up from below.
 

Steele climbed the rungs and dropped down into the mainline. The running water was heavy from the recent downpour. But it was only about calf deep. Steele grinned—this tunnel would take them out of the containment zone. 

As far as Steele knew, the only thing standing between him and freedom was a small, composite steel gate that Z-SOC had put in the mainline drains. There had been round after round of discussion about how to handle the storm drain situation. The first solution proposed was to send in the demolitions units and blow up the tunnels. That idea was scrapped in favor of concrete plugs. They could be drilled out if the tunnels ever needed to become functional again. Of course, sealing the storm drains would cause flooding in the city, but no one cared about that. That idea was scrapped as well. Gating them off with composite steel proved to be a simple, yet effective, solution.

Steele climbed back up and poked his head through the manhole. “Looks clear.” He pulled himself the rest of the way out, and helped the refugees descend into the tunnel.  Xavier would have to be lowered down with a rope, but Steele had planned for that. 

“I don’t want to go down there,” Chloe said, clutching Mr. Carlisle.

“I’m sorry, but we have to.”

“It smells like poo.”

“It’s not poo,” Steele said. “It’s just runoff water.”

“It still smells like poo.”

“I promise, it’s not poo.”

“You’re just saying that so I’ll go down there.”

“You’re not scared, are you?” Steele asked.

“No.”
 

“I think you’re scared,” Steele said, taunting her.

“I am not.” She handed him the stuffed tiger. “Hold him for me.” Then she climbed down into the sewer. 

Steele stuffed the animal into his pack and followed  Chloe down the manhole.  

The tunnel was pitch black. But night vision tactical goggles illuminated the storm drain for Steele, Parker, and Delroy. The others were literally left in the dark. It was cold and damp and eerie. Steele lit his flashlight so the others would be able to see. All they would have to do is follow the current—it would take them to the outfall.

The water was cold and the concrete was slick with algae. It was a part of the city that few had ever seen. Some sections of the tunnel walls were littered with graffiti. Not your average graffiti either. But elaborate works of art. Poems about injustice and the forgotten. Of greed and consumerism. Of oppression and tyranny.

Steele sloshed through the runoff water, leading the pack of refugees. It was 17 miles to the containment wall. The tattered refugees would have to trudge through a toxic sludge of wastewater and debris. 

And rats.

The rats seemed to be the only thing thriving in the containment zone. Hundreds of them lined the banks of the oval-shaped tunnel, scavenging for whatever sustenance they could find. Steele was uncertain whether they were affected by the virus. At first glance, they looked normal enough. But they could be carriers, he thought. Rats had long since been blamed as carriers of the bubonic plague. Scientists had suspected that bacteria-ridden fleas hosted by the rats were the culprit. Though recent evidence suggested gerbils may be more at fault. Either way, a hundred million people died during the
Black Death
. It made the deaths in the quarantine zone pale in comparison. But if Raddick was right, this was just the beginning.

All kinds of things found their way into the storm drains. Trash, old toys, snakes, and lots of cockroaches.  Even the infected had found their way into the tunnels. Sometimes they were staggering about. Sometimes they were floating helplessly with the current. Those were the worst kind. They could float up behind you and take a chunk out of your skin before you knew what happened.

The group marched through the muck for hours, dispatching any lurkers they came upon. Anyone with an open wound was likely to get an infection from the bacteria-ridden water. Even more frightening was the possibility of infected blood in the water. No one was really sure how long the virus would live outside the body
 
when exposed to air. More than likely, minute amounts of infected blood in the runoff water wouldn’t be enough to infect anyone. But no one could be certain of that.

About half way through the tunnel, Steele let the team rest. At this pace, they had another few hours to go. The refugees didn’t look like they could take another step. Each one carrying and extra 25 pounds in the form of a titrillium bar. It doesn’t sound like much, but trudging through the stormwater, the weight was like an anchor. They had taken turns carrying Xavier. But it was still a daunting task, and they all looked haggard. Xavier’s skin was green and sickly. Sweat dripped from his body, despite the chill in the air.

“Do you think he’s going to make it,” Parker asked. She looked genuinely concerned.

Steele shrugged. “I hope so.”

His eyes found Gabriel in the crowd of weary refugees. Steele sloshed across the water to the embankment on the other side where Gabriel was sitting. “Come with me,” Steele said, motioning to him.

The two walked upstream, away from the group. Steele wanted a little privacy. “Tell me everything you know.”

“About?”

“Don’t play dumb with me.”

“Oh, that,” Gabriel said. “Where do you want me to start?”

“How about the beginning.”

“People have one of two reactions when they speak to me. They either want to kill me because they think this is all my fault. Or they want me to cure them.”

Steele’s eyes narrowed.

“I’ll tell you everything I know. But you don’t tell the others.”

“How do you know my reaction is not going to be to kill you?”

Gabriel looked into Steele’s eyes. “I don’t see murder in your eyes. You’re actually a decent human being.”

“What makes you so sure?” 

“I know people.”

“It seems you know how to kill them,” Steele said.

Gabriel smirked. “Seems you and I aren’t so different.”

“Was this a weaponized virus?”

“No. We were trying to create a chronic, manageable condition.”

“And let me guess, people would have to buy the cure from you?”

“The Pharma industry loves chronic manageable conditions. Just one pill a day for the rest of your life.”

“So what went wrong?”

“We don’t know,” Gabriel said. “Some type of mutation occurred. It was supposed to be a self-perpetuating condition. But something went wrong.”

“That’s an understatement.” Steele was furious. Corporate greed at its finest. “When does it become airborne?”

Gabriel was about to answer that when a commotion erupted in the tunnel. A cacophony of shrill screams filled the air. Finn had grabbed ahold of a woman and was sinking his teeth into her neck.

STEELE BOUNDED DOWN the tunnel as Finn tore into the woman’s flesh. Muscles and tendons snapped. Veins ripped apart and spurted blood into the air.

Finn must have gotten bit at some point. Probably on his way back from the tunnel, before he reached the others at the scrapyard.
 

The woman screamed a mix of pain and terror.

Steele unsheathed his sword and spun it through the air. He sliced through Finn's neck as he ripped another chunk of flesh from the woman. Finn's head toppled, plunking into the water. His headless body lurched and grabbed at the woman.

She scurried away, clutching the gaping wound in her neck. But she didn’t get far. Her carotid artery was severed. She bled out within a minute. And no one tried to save her. The crowd of refugees parted. No one wanted to get near her.

Steele chopped his sword down, severing the woman’s head. The blade clanked against the concrete when it sliced through her flesh. The woman’s head rolled from the embankment, sloshing into the water. The current pushed both of the heads downstream.

Sometimes, after death, a person would transform and reanimate within a matter of minutes. Sometimes it would be hours. It depended on how much of the virus had gotten into their system. A person’s overall genetic makeup also influenced the onset of symptoms. But it was always best to neutralize any threat as soon as possible.

Before Steele could wipe clean his blade, there was more commotion in the tunnel. The greedy woman had fully turned and was going after someone. Steele spun around to see her grab Chloe. The woman’s teeth flashed. She snarled and plunged her incisors towards Chloe’s delicate flesh. 

Steele was too far away. He’d never make it in time. His heart raced. He launched toward Chloe. Her devastating scream pierced his ears. The others were darting away to safety. Steele watched in a surreal slow motion as the woman’s craggy teeth sank closer.

CRACK!

The greedy woman’s head split open, spraying blood. Her teeth were millimeters away from Chloe’s neck. The woman’s body splashed in the water and slowly floated away. 

Smoke wafted from the barrel of Parker’s assault rifle.

Steele rushed to Chloe and looked her over. The woman’s blood speckled her face. “Did you get bit?”

Chloe shook her head, trembling.

“Did you get any blood in your eye?”

“I don’t think so,” she stammered.

Steele wiped the blood from her face with his sleeve. Then he picked her up and gave her a hug. She clung to him, terrified. He could feel her shaking. “I thought you didn’t get scared?”

“Who’s scared? I ain’t scared.”

Steele smiled at her. Then he nodded a
thank you
to Parker. It was a gutsy shot to take. A few inches to the left and the results could have been disastrous.
 

“Let’s move out,” Steele commanded.

The weary crowd staggered to their feet and followed along. They were still several miles away from the containment wall. From there, it was perhaps another mile to safely clear the perimeter of the base. Steele wasn’t entirely sure what he’d do when they reached their destination. He needed to sneak Xavier into a med-pod. But he couldn’t hide nearly 40 refugees on base. He certainly wasn’t going to let Chloe out of his sight. But how was he going to explain her to the colonel?
 

He had visions of going AWOL and living the rest of his life like a king on a tropical island. With the titrillium, he could afford to buy any island he wanted. He didn’t think he was important enough for the Army to come looking for him. Plus, he only had six weeks left on his contract—maybe he could talk his way out of it. Maybe he could
buy
his way out of it, he thought.

The group marched another mile, wading through the murky water. Tributaries fed into the mainline, pouring in thousands of gallons every minute. By now, the water in the mainline was almost waste deep. Too deep for Chloe to walk on her own. Steele carried her. 

He noticed they were near an access point. Steele saw the metal rungs embedded in the concrete that led up to a manhole. Steele motioned for Parker to catch up with him. She was several paces back. He stopped and waited for her while the others kept slogging along.