AntiBio: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (23 page)

49

“Clear,” Marco states as he steps into the next hallway. “Just like the last ones.”

“Never assume,” Red and Ton say at the same time.

“God, there’s two,” Collette smirks.

“Rats in a maze, anyone?” Paulo asks as he follows the rest in with Nick right behind him.

Marco lifts a fist and the squad halts instantly, following his gaze as he looks up at the ceiling. They listen and wait, all wondering what caught his attention.

Then it all opens up and metal arms rip through the ceiling and come rushing down at them.

“Hit the deck!” Ton shouts as he fires off a round of static blasts, ripping two arms apart before he dives to the floor out of the way of two others.

Red rolls and comes up on one knee, firing at anything above him that moves. Metal whips down at him, but he dodges to the side, never letting his finger rest, keeping up blast after blast.

The hallway becomes thick with the smell of ozone as the squad ducks and dives from side to side, their training and experience keeping them from colliding, as they defend themselves from the onslaught of shiny metal arms and sharp tools.

A few more blasts and the arms still. A few that aren’t too damaged retract into the ceiling, but the rest dangle there, sparking for a few seconds then fizzling out.

“Hold!” Ton shouts, wedged into a far corner, the barrel of his rifle glowing blue. “Report!”

“Good!” Paulo shouts.

“Solid!” Marco yells.

“Okay here!” Collette calls out, tucked into the corner across from Ton.

“All fingers all toes!” Nick says, coughing from the haze of electrically charged mist that fills the hallway.

“Red?” Ton shouts. “Red? Report!”

“I do the yelling, thank you,” Red says from the far end of the hallway. He’s standing there looking at a hole blasted through the white metal. “You’ve gotta see this.”

The squad picks themselves up and join him, brows furrowing and heads shaking.

“What the hell are we looking at?” Nick asks.

“Not a clue,” Red says.

The room is massive and filled with pile after pile of clear boxes, each labeled and tagged, holding what looks like clothing and personal effects. Red points at Marco and Collette then at the room. The two operators hurry inside, sweeping their rifles from side to side. They clear the corners then each take a side and rush past each pile, making sure nothing is hiding from sight.

“Clear,” Marco says, but doesn’t let his rifle lower.
Instead, he taps the barrel against one of the clear boxes. The side opens and he sticks the rifle barrel inside, lifting up a tattered old bra. “Are you shitting me?”

“It’s like a Cootie hole,” Collet
te says. “Just orderly.”

“Cootie hole?” Paulo asks. “Haven’t had the pleasure of being in one of those.”

“Some Cooties like to hoard,” Red explains. “We’ll find caves, burrows, bunkers, all filled with crap like this, stuff they find in the Sicklands and take back with them.”

“Why?” Paulo asks. “Can’t eat this crap.”

“Maybe it makes them feel like people again,” Ton says. “Maybe they gather it up to try to get a piece of their humanity back.”

“Like Cooties were ever human,” Paulo snorts.

“Hey,” Red snaps. “They may be fucked up disease bags, but they are still people. Living, breathing
,
sufferin
g
, people.”

“Sorry, man,” Paulo says. “Wasn’t trying to be a dick about it.”

“He knows that, right, Red?” Ton says, looking at the man.

“Yeah, right,” Red nods. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to jump down your throat. You just don’t know what it’s like living in the Sicklands.”

“And thank God for that,” Paulo says. “I wouldn’t want to trade places with you guys any day.”

“You
haven’t traded,” Marco smirks. “You’ve just joined.”

“Ha ha,” Paulo laughs then stops, seeing the serious looks on Coffin squad’s faces. “Wait…you
’re not joking.”

“What do you think comes next?” Red asks. “You hop in the transport and drive back to Caldicott City and resume life as usual? Not happening, kid. You’re on the wrong side of Control now.”

“But what is Control?” Ton asks, looking from clear box to clear box. “A Burn swap meet?”

“
Each box is individual,” Collette says, kneeling next to an extra large box filled with mostly books. The box slides open and she grabs one, turning it over and over in her hand. “And weird. What the hell are these? They have writing all in them.”

“Books,” Red says. “My dad had some when I was a kid before they were taken because of possible contamination. Bacteria can live in the pages.”

Collette drops the book she picked up and wipes her hand on her armor.

“I wouldn’t worry,” Ton says. “If the Sicklands can’t kill ya then you think some antique will?”

“In this place? Who knows?” Collette shrugs, bringing her rifle back up.

“We could really use Worm’s help right now,” Red says. “He could shed some light on this. Tell us why Control would keep crap like this.”

“If this all belongs to people, then where are the people?” Paulo asks. “We haven’t seen anyone since we got here. Not a single living soul except for the Clean Guard back in the bay.”

“And with the way the machines went nuts, I doubt they’re still alive,” Red says
. “That place was turning into Hell fast.”

“This whole place is H
ell,” Ton says. “It’s like we’re being led from one ring to another.”

“One ring?” Marco asks. “What? Like that Johnny Cash song?”

“No, it’s Dante,” Ton says. Everyone but Red looks at him, puzzled. He shakes his head. “I miss Milo. He’d know what I’m talking about.”

“We’re just messing with ya,” Marco grins. “Beware all ye who enter here and that shit, right?”

“Abandon all hope, ye who enter here,” Nick corrects.

“Close enough, man,” Marco shrugs then looks at Red. “Where to now?”

“Ton?” Red asks. “We kinda got thrown into this. Did Worm say anything to you when he woke your ass up?”

“Just that he wished he could give us more time,” Ton says. “Feels like we’ve already been circling through these halls for an eternity.”

“Then out we go,” Red says, walking back towards the hallway. “Onward and upward.”

“Excelsior,” Ton responds.

“You old farts need to speak English,” Collette cracks.

50

When the wall slides open, Jersey is ready. Before Dr. DeBeers can turn, she leaps at the woman, whipping her across the back with one of the metal arms, slicing through her uniform and splitting the skin underneath.

“Holy shit,” Jersey says, not expecting quite so gruesome a result. Her goal had been to knock the woman aside or down then tackle and subdue her, not tear her a new one.

“You,” Dr. DeBeers says, as she whirls on Jersey. “He’s mine now, you can’t take him!”

“Uh…whatever!” Jersey shouts as she whips the arm out again, but this time Dr. DeBeers is ready and grabs it, yanking Jersey close, getting right in her face.

“You should be asleep in the Waiting Room,” Dr. DeBeers snarls.
Jersey can see the madness, almost smell it coming off the woman. Dr. DeBeers just stares at her then smiles. “It’s not your turn yet.”

“Fuck off,” Jersey yells and shoves the madwoman away. “What the fuck is wrong with you, bitch?”

Jersey glances at Blaze and Dr. DeBeers follows her gaze.

“He’s healthy and fine,” she says. “I haven’t touched him.
Yet. He needs more prep. We all need more prep. We have to prepare for Him.”

“You’re fucking insane, lady,” Jersey says. “And I’m really, really done with insane right now. Step away from my guy and I’ll just take him out of here.”

“How?” Dr. DeBeers laughs. “You can’t leave Control. Not without permission.” Her eyes sparkle and dance. “And I don’t give anyone permission to leave! Not anymore! Protocol 1 is in place!”

“Who the hell are you, lady?” Jersey asks, circling around to the other side, putting Blaze between them. “You act like you are in charge of this place, but there’s no way anyone would put you in charge.”

“I was Chairperson, but now I serve Him,” Dr. DeBeers says then clamps her hand across her mouth. “I…I don’t…” She shakes her head over and over. “Yes, I do! I serve HIM!”

“Him? Him who?” Jersey asks then looks down at Blaze and raises an eyebrow. “You don’t mean him, do you?”

“How dare you! How dare you!” Dr. DeBeers screams and dives across the table, her body landing on Blaze.

“Bitch!” Jersey yells, slamming her fist into Dr. DeBeers’s face again and again. “Get off my man!”

51

“CONTROL WIDE STERILIZATION IN FIFTEEN MINUTES AND COUNTING.”

“That doesn’t sound good,” Ton says.

“Sterilization?” Paulo asks. “Did that AiSP mean us?”

“Yes.”

The operators stop.

“That was in my com,” Marco says. “You guys?”

“Yep,” Paulo says.

“Mine too,” Nick says.

“It must have bypassed the piggyback and relayed into our PSCs,” Red says.

“The piggyback was useless,” the Voice says. “An inventive try by you
r
Wooooooooooorrrrrrrmmmmm
m
, but pointless.”

“Who am I speaking with?” Ton asks. “Identify yourself now. You are not an AiSP.”

“No, I am not,” the Voice says. “And yet I am. Identity is a tricky thing, don’t you think, Alton?”

“Not if I know who I’m speaking to,” Ton replies.

“No, no, not my identity,” the Voice says. “Your own. So tricky. Do you know who you are, Alton?”

“I’m the guy that’s gonna beat your ass when I find you,” Ton says. He points towards the end of the hall and the operators move out.

“You don’t need to find me, I have found you,” the Voice says. “But, please keep searching. Take your time CONTROL WIDE STERILIZATION IN THIRTEEN MINUTES AND COUNTING.”

“Sergeant Kim?” Worm whispers over the com. “Do not respond, just listen, please.”

Paulo keeps walking, his face impassive.

“That is not a person, Sergeant,” Worm says. “Do not search for it. Continue on your present path. Three hallways then turn right. Do you understand?”

“Follow me,” Paulo says, taking point.

“Good,” Worm says. “When you get to the destination you will need to have all of your faculties in place. The run is over, the mission is over, the resistance is over. I am doing all I can to keep the squads safe, but Control is stronger than a single AiSP such as I.”

The wall at the end of the hallway slides open and the operators move into the next hallway.

“Holy fuck,” Collette says. The looks on the operators’ faces echo her statement.

“Yes, unfortunate,” the Voice says as the operators stare at the opaque walls and the gruesome seen beyond.

Metal arms whirl about in the rooms on both sides, dissecting and dismembering the mutated bug hounds. Shorn of their fur, stripped of their skin, then set to hang as each corpse is moved down a line, butchered like the livestock of civilization long gone.

“Keep moving, Sergeant,” Worm says. “This is a distraction. Do not be distracted. There is a specific timetable we must keep to. All is lost if you do not keep moving.”

“CONTROL WIDE STERILIZATION IN TEN MINUTES,” the Voice booms. “Better hurry.” There is a pause, but to the operators it almost sounds like breathing.
“
Wooooooooooorrrrrrrmmmmm
m
? Oh
,
Wooooooooooorrrrrrrmmmmm
m
, where are you?”

“Have you ever heard an AiSP act like this?” Marco asks.

“No,” Ton says.

“Come on,” Paulo says. “We’re done here.”

“Where are you taking us, Sergeant?” Red asks. “You seem like you know where you’re going.”

“Not a clue,” Paulo says. “Just a hunch.”

“Better be a good hunch,” Nick says.

“It is,” Paulo says, looking at Ton. “A very good one.”

“Lead on,” Ton says.

The operators keep moving, pushing the images of the canine abattoir from their minds, focusing on what lies ahead.

The next hallway reveals nothing, keeping to its stark, blinding white. They move along at a steady, cautious clip.

“CONTROL WIDE STERILIZATION IN- Do I need to keep announcing this?” the Voice asks. “You are all trained professionals, I’m sure your internal clocks have adjusted accordingly. I’ll just let you know when CONTROL WIDE STERILIZATION starts. Good luck.”

“Seven minutes,” Collette says.

“Double time, people,” Red orders and they all start jogging to the end of the hallway.

The wall slides open and into another hallway they move.

“Stop,” Paulo says, turning right.

A white wall.

“What are we doing, Sergeant?” Ton asks, moving closer and leaning towards Paulo. “We can’t stop.”

“This is the place,” Paulo says. “Three hallways and turn right.”

Ton watches him for a second then nods and looks at the wall.

“Uh?” Red asks as they fan out, taking up defensive positions, ready for what could come at them. “I’m assuming there is a point to this.”

“I hope so,” Paulo says.

“Five minutes,” Collette hisses. “This better be the way out.”

The wall slides away and they all step back, the image of a blood covered Jersey not what they expected to find.

“Hey,” she says.

Ton looks past her at the body on the floor. Dr. DeBeers l
ies on her back, her face nothing but shattered bone and flesh. Snot bubbles of blood burst every second, telling the lieutenant that the woman is still alive and breathing at least, even if she doesn’t look it.

“That blood hers?” Ton asks.

“Yep,” Jersey nods. “Bitch went down hard.”

Jersey holds up her right hand and half the operators cringe at t
he swollen knuckles.

“I’ll need some help with the table,” Jersey says, hooking a thumb over her shoulder at Blaze. “We need to get back to the transport.”

“What gave it away?” Nick asks. “The crazy AiSP voice?”

“The what?” Jersey asks. “Never mind. Just help.”

Nick and Marco rush into the room and each take an end of the medical table, wheeling it around Dr. DeBeers’s beaten body. They get it out in the hallway and look to Paulo.

“Which way now, pathfinder?” Nick asks.

“I don’t know,” Paulo says.

“I do,” Jersey responds, looking one way then the next. “This way.”

A small beep from behind them makes Jersey stop and look over her shoulder.

The small orb.

“Wrong,” Jersey says, turning 180 degrees. “This way. My bad.”

The operators look at the orb then each other, questioning the choice of following a machine in Control, but none
has a better idea, so they follow behind, bringing the unconscious Blaze with on the wheeled medical table.