Catalyst (Book 1): Decay Chains (6 page)

“That fire is telling us it’s time to go,” Vicky said. “We need to evacuate.”

“I agree,” Stormy said.” There’s a woman in the stairwell, but she’s probably dead already.”

“We can’t take any more chances,” Stan said.

“Everyone find weapons, and then we’ll regroup and get out of here,” Stormy said.

Stan rolled his eyes. “Okay.”

Stormy smiled at him. “Relax. I’ll show you how to get down the tower.”

CHAPTER SEVEN

DAYS UNTIL THE SUPERVIRUS GOES GLOBAL: 30:21:25

With only minutes left, Stormy’s attention centered on her boyfriend. He didn’t need to breathe anymore, but he sighed over and over again. He refused to lift up his shirt to show her the damage. She was curious at first, but now she was a little scared. When he turned, a concave section that wasn’t supposed to dip in would catch her attention. After he caught her gaping at his picked clean torso, he covered it with one hand.

Stan rolled his eyes at both of them and moved farther away. When everyone filed into the hallway, Matt didn’t move. Stormy went back for him and her entire being begged the doctor to have a problem with it. No sooner had she neared him, then Matt’s arms closed around her and pulled her to his chest.

“I’m supposed to be at the terminal right now,” he said. “Standing in some fucking TSA line.”

“You didn’t want to go on that trip anyhow.”

That should’ve made him smile. It had the opposite effect.

“Sweetness, listen. If something happens to me, stay with the others. Don’t get separated—”

“What are you saying?”

“Don’t stay at the house. Just get gone and stay gone. Head out to your sister’s. Take the Camaro—”

“Stop it, Matt. Damn you.”

“There’s a revolver in the safe with our passports and about a grand in—”

“Enough—”

“And you know where the Beretta is?”

“In the friggin’ Camaro.”

“Stay with the group. No matter what. You’re safer.”

“They want you dead.”

“We’re leaving,” Dr. Louboutin said.

Matt cast his eyes down. His whole body tensed. “One minute please. Sixty seconds is all I ask.”

“You’re coming with me. All the way.”

“Listen to me. Sweetness, it’s my time. It’s my time to go.”

“No, it’s not. How can you give up so easily?”

“I’m just ahead of you in line. You’ll catch up someday and we’ll be together again.”

“You’re not even going to try to get out? For me? Us?”

“I am trying. I’m trying to take care of you as best I—”

“It’s human nature.” She couldn’t stop her voice from breaking. “To want to live. To try. How can you not feel that? It’s all I have right now.”

“I’m not human anymore. I could snap at any time.”

“This is stupid. We’re not having this conversation anymore.” She wrung her hands until Matt grabbed them and entwined her fingers with his.
How did it get so cold when there is a damn inferno next door?

“Please stop having this conversation,” Stan said. “Let him do what he wants.”

“Stay out of this,” Stormy said.

“Have mercy, Stormy,” Matt said. “He’s had a rough day.”

“Oh, I’ve had a great day. Ask me about it.”

“That’s not what I meant—”

“Fuck what you meant.” She pulled her fingers out of Matt’s grasp and forced him to look at her. “So, you’re just going to give up and die, when you could live?”

“I can’t go with you.”

“I think he’s right.” Dr. Louboutin pointed out a window. “Look. They’ll never let him out the doors.”

Matt guided Stormy to the window. Below them in the street, National Guard M-RAPs crawled past the hospital.

“See sweetness, they’re here for you,” Matt said. “But I have to stay.”

Stormy said nothing while she studied the convoy. Matt looked away as soon as he figured out what engrossed her. Her eyes watered as supers scaled the M-RAPs. They were trying to rip the soldiers out of the turrets before getting gunned down. None were victorious against the rain of bullets the soldiers fired at them.

Stormy wasn’t upset because the supers were being shot to pieces. She wanted all of them to die hideously, except Matt. She mourned her situation. Matt would do anything to make sure that she left this hospital alive, except leave with her. The only thing he wanted more than to watch her walk out the door was to die inside Reamer Towers, a second time in one day.

“Everyone ready?” Matt asked.

“The elevators are death traps.” Stan said. “How are we getting down?”

Matt pulled Stormy away from the window. “How many of those things did you see on your way up?”

“Supers? They’re everywhere and one may have followed me.”

“What did you call them?” Stan asked.

“Supers, because the Super-flu did this to them.”

“Oh.”

“It didn’t follow you,” Dr. Louboutin said. “The fire repels them. That’s why we set it.”

“This tower connects to the other one on the third floor,” Vicky said. “We could cut across on that level.”

“You think it’s safer?” Stan asked.

“It might be. It’s worth a try.”

“We won’t be safe until we’re out of the Business District,” Stormy said.

“Beg your pardon?” Stan said.

“I heard the Cold World terrorists talking about a blast radius. The agent spread for three square miles. We won’t be safe until we’re that far out.”

“Three square miles?” Dr. Louboutin asked.

“Cold World, what?” Matt asked.

“The people that set off the gas are part of an organization. Long story. Anyhow, they infected everyone in the Business District.”

“Well by now, that’s merely a minimum estimate,” Dr. Louboutin said. “If what you’re saying is true, that number is now three square miles plus whatever distance two and a half hours bought them. But I find your story hard to—”

“If you don’t believe me you can check the window again, Doc.”

“It’s the end of times.” Vicky shook her head. “I must pray.” She excused herself and paced a few steps down the hall clenching the cross she wore around her wrinkly neck.

“We won’t get far if you don’t let her pray,” Dr. Louboutin said. “She’ll be quick about it.”

“She’s the only human I think God would actually listen to,” Stan said.

“She gets all the time she needs,” Stormy said.

Matt’s clammy hands closed over Stormy’s shoulders. She took a deep breath and then closed her hand over his and squeezed.

“You’re going to make it out of here,” he said.

“I’m not worried about Reamer. It’s getting out of the district that scares me.”

“You can make it.”

He rubbed her shoulders. She wanted it to feel the way it did when he had rubbed her shoulders so many times before, but it didn’t. His touch was guarded. Despite her own efforts, she was on alert too. Each embrace from now till the last time she saw him would be different. Cold World had stolen Matt’s intoxicating touch from her.

He withdrew. “I know it’s weird, but it’s the best I can do.”

She faced him. “No one can fault you when they see how much you’re trying.”

He rubbed the back of his neck. Flecks of skin coated the back of his shirt, like out of control dandruff.

“If I didn’t know you, I’d wonder how you could say something so ridiculous while looking right at me.” He stretched his arms out at his sides. “I’m a giant walking corpse. Everyone, except you dear, finds fault with that.”

“But you’re a sexy one though.” She winked at him. “At least I think so, anyway.”

Matt looked at her like she was trying to sell him a vacuum cleaner. “You just went there didn’t you?”

“I guess I did.”

She walked into his arms and he closed them around her. The embrace felt weird, but that wasn’t going to stop her from spending these last moments with him. Once they left the fifth floor, their time together was essentially over. Spending the rest of her days wondering what she could’ve said or done differently during their last minutes as a couple wasn’t something she could live with. She didn’t want to torment herself later, because it was too awkward to make the best of it now.

CHAPTER EIGHT

DAYS UNTIL THE SUPERVIRUS GOES GLOBAL: 30:21:05

Vicky’s mascara darkened the already well-defined circles under her eyes. Nonetheless, she returned composed and ready to go.

“Vicky, we like your suggestion best,” Stormy said. “Let’s take the stairs to the third floor and tempt fate in the second tower.”

“Take these.” Dr. Louboutin handed Vicky a pair of shears. “And stay close to me.”

“And hand over the gun Stormy,” Stan said.

Stormy looked at Matt, who shot a venomous glare at Stan.

“We already decided I should have the gun,” Stan said. “We don’t even know if you know how to use that thing.”

“It’s no use to you,” she said. “It’s not even loaded.”

“Prove it,” Stan said. “Take a shot.”

“Hold on everyone,” Vicky said. “Calm down.”

“This is a life or death matter,” Stan said. “Every bullet in that magazine is a super that won’t eat you if the gun is in my hand. Are you willing to rely on her to do the same, when she’s not keen on even taking out the one standing next to her?”

“The gun came with her, it stays with her.” Matt stepped in-between Stormy and Stan. “This conversation is over. Grab your stuff. This party is officially on the move.”

Stan squared off with Matt. Their eyes locked and their fists clenched.

“When’s the last time you won an argument with your fists?” Matt asked.

“I won them all that way.”

“That ends today.” Matt pushed Stan into the wall. In response, Stan elbowed him across the face. The assault continued unabated until Stormy literally dove in-between them. She took a hit across the face and in the back before Vicky and Dr. Louboutin were able to separate all three of them.

Dr. Louboutin rubbed his hand across his bald scalp and sighed. “Let’s go.”

The group filed out one by one. They turned right in the hallway to steer clear of the blaze they had set earlier. Smoke seeped into the hall, completely unfazed by the wet towels stuffed under the double doors. Stormy felt the temperature difference immediately. A few degrees didn’t seem like much on any other day, but today, it broke her concentration. The heat enraged her migraine. Her throat tickled and the fingers on her burned hand throbbed.

The group rounded the corner in troubled silence. A second set of double doors loomed at the end of the hallway, signaling the end of the safe zone and the beginning of the race downward. Stormy’s hand flew out from her side seeking Matt’s. When her hand found his, he refused the touch.

“I love you,” he whispered in her ear. “But I need my hands free right now.”

He squeezed her middle with both hands, which made her jump, and then put some space between her lonesome fingers and his charred body.

Dr. Louboutin reached the double doors first. He turned back to count everyone before pulling a lanyard out of his shirt. He traced the edge of his key card as he waited for the group to reassemble.

Stan was next to reach the doors. He eyed them for a moment and then tapped Dr. Louboutin’s shoulder. The two were gawking at the doors and Stan was mumbling profanities as the rest of the group approached.

Stormy identified the problem before she finished out the hallway. The paint on the doors had bubbled up and peeled in curlicues. Billows of smoke obscured the windows. Her burns suffered through a second exposure. Little blisters staked out homes along her fingers. She eyed Matt’s burns and thanked the powers that be that he couldn’t feel anything now.

Stan turned around, and was about to say something to the group, when the banging started. In one fluid motion he jumped, whirled around in the air, and was back facing the door.

The banging came from all ends of the closure. A blur of orange flashed past the window once, then twice. Stormy’s fingers reached in Matt’s direction again, and then fell through the air to her side.

“Grab that fire extinguisher,” Stan said to Dr. Louboutin while he pulled his jacket off and wrapped it around his hand. “When I get the door open, run like hell. Don’t stop till you reach the stairs.”

The group wrapped wet gauze over their mouths and noses and sucked in deep breaths of clean, moist air. Stormy prayed it would be enough oxygen to last her to the stairwell.

“Everyone ready?” she asked.

Weapons lifted. Stormy leveled her gun. Vicky squeezed her shears. Dr. Louboutin readied the fire extinguisher. Matt took a pointless breath.

Stan reached for the door, and then careened back when a burning face smashed into the glass so hard that the nose broke. Eyes whirling in all directions, flesh dripping down in trickles, the menacing face howled and disappeared again.

“Son of a bitch, that one looks like Ghost Rider,” Stan said.

“He’s not alone.” Stormy pointed to the other door where the banging hadn’t stopped, not even for the peep show.

Vicky’s lips sped through a hushed prayer. She looked a minute from breaking down.

“Let’s try this again,” Stan said.

Dr. Louboutin swiped his key card and then lifted his fire extinguisher. Stan ripped the door open and Dr. Louboutin laid a thick suppressant cover. He blasted in half circles about him, adding fog to an already clouded space.

The hallway was an eerie, smoky span cast in sunrise colors. Little flecks of ash swirled in the smoke. If the heat weren’t present, it would’ve been a cool autumn morning in the hallway.

Vicky fell in behind her husband. Stormy cleared the door next, followed closely by Matt and Stan. A female super lunged out of the corner and headed straight for them.

Matt sacked the super with full force and knocked her into the wall. Stormy wanted to run, but couldn’t stop watching Matt pound the living shit out of the girl. The smoke made it look like they were two normal people, perhaps a teenage girl being knocked around by her boyfriend. Matt appeared menacing as he repeatedly smashed her body into the wall.

The fire extinguisher sent Ghost Rider flying backward. He hit the floor and lay twitching, covered in suppressant. Dr. Louboutin stepped sideways to avoid him, only to be taken from behind by a set of smoldering arms. Vicky screamed and grabbed her husband, but was thrown back as he wrestled with the second super.              

Dr. Louboutin held the fire extinguisher over his head and fired it on the gaping jaws behind him. He backed away as he sprayed, checking intermittently for Ghost Rider. Vicky regrouped and became Dr. Louboutin’s shadow.

A well-fed fire engulfed the super that knocked Stan off his feet, and then followed him to the floor. Stan rolled out of the super’s landing zone, hopped back to his feet, and stomped on his abdomen. Murky fluids sprayed across Stan’s shirt when he smashed a trash can down on the super’s head. He hissed and ripped Stan’s feet out from under him. They tumbled around until the super righted himself and hit Stan so hard he flew into a wall.

Stormy fired three shots into the smoke. One damn near hit Stan, the other killed a picture frame, but the third went completely through the super’s neck. The shot didn’t kill the super, but it bought Stan enough time to get the hell out of his way.

Arms out, Ghost Rider barreled back in front of Dr. Louboutin and blocked his path. White spray clung to his skin and foamed on his clothes as he launched at the doctor. He was too close and too fast to be sprayed again. Instead, Dr. Louboutin smashed the fire extinguisher through his skull. Annoyance laced with adrenaline coated his face as he wrenched the bottom of the metal cylinder back up out of Ghost Rider’s crushed skull.

Just as quickly as he had halted, the doctor was off again, never once looking back for the rest of the group. If Vicky hadn’t been on his tail, she would’ve been lost for sure. For a heavy-set, terrified woman, she moved pretty steadily.

Stan snuck up on Stormy as she stomped on the super’s neck to fully separate it from his body. There was no need to waste another bullet. He yanked her sleeve. “We’re outta here. C’mon.”

Then he was gone.

Stormy turned in time to see a hazy shadow in front of her grow smaller. She squinted and realized it was Stan running away. She followed as best she could in the smoke and ignored the commotion behind her. That pained cry wasn’t human. She didn’t dare look back for an image she didn’t want burned permanently into her memory.

Dr. Louboutin lay down a suppressant cover and advanced. The group followed closely, taking large spaces when they could and slowing down when debris or supers delayed them.

Stormy’s arms ached from holding the gun out in front of her. She could feel her muscles quake as she moved the weapon from side to side. Her steps were clumsy. She couldn’t see the ground through the smoke and could only glance at the floor occasionally and keep the gun aimed in front of her, but off Stan’s back.

Her mind raced. The stairs should be coming up on the left and Matt hadn’t followed the group. Dr. Louboutin would keep advancing even if they couldn’t keep up with him.

A smaller but nagging thought lurked behind all those. The image of Matt viciously attacking that super haunted Stormy. She was so young. Matt was so aggressive. Even though the girl was trying to kill them, she didn’t look like a killer. At that moment, Matt did. She knew he was a victim of circumstance. But could some of his aggression have been there all along and then been amplified by his current state?

That was ridiculous. She knew Matt better than anyone. Since high school he had been a champion of lost causes and stray animals. But still, his fiery attack, precise hits, and superhero speed led on more than he intended. Matt was only trying to protect her. But if Stan and Dr. Louboutin were right, and she was beginning to believe they were, at some point he would snap and redirect those powerful blows on those closest to him. She would no doubt be the one standing beside him when the time came.

Dr. Louboutin reached the stairs first. He tucked the fire extinguisher under his arm and yanked the door open. Vicky must’ve been disoriented, because she walked right past him. Stan caught hold of the back of her scrub shirt and pushed her into the stairwell. She flinched at his touch and her arms shot skyward. When recognition hit, her fingers steepled and her head bowed in prayer.

Smoke drifted in the open door, but the air inside the stairwell was breathable. Vicky was obviously scared in the hall, but now that Stormy could see clearly, she was seriously worried about her. The poor woman hands drifted out of prayer and one clutched her chest like she was about to have a full-blown heart attack.

The door closed behind Stan. Sweat dripped down his face as he gulped hasty breaths and lodged his head in-between his knees. Dr. Louboutin searched the stairwell for new threats.

Stormy listened for anything and everything. She heard some sounds she recognized immediately. Debris crashed onto the hallway floor. Rumbling emanated as the hungry fire fed itself. But there was something else. A popping off in the distance. Stan raised his gaze from his shins to the exterior wall of the stairwell.

“They’re attacking,” he said to Dr. Louboutin, who nodded.

“The soldiers you mean?” Vicky asked.

“Yeah, that’s gunfire,” Stan said.

Stormy moved from the railing back to the door. The gunfire didn’t concern her, but Matt’s absence did. She reached for the door handle, mindful to use her already burned hand.

An explosion rocked the building. Urgency filled everyone on the landing before full comprehension was possible.

“Let’s go.” Stan pulled Vicky up from the steps and headed down with her in tow.

Stormy listened to the group leave. Her hand fell lower, a dirty mass inches above the shiny silver handle.

“Don’t even think about it, Stormy,” Stan shouted up to her.             

Insolence rose up in her throat. Since when did she take orders from him? She looked over her shoulder to find the group out of sight. Thudding erupted from the flight above her. She had heard the unnatural shuffle before. Something crashed into the railing and then grated down it. A clanging echoed throughout the stairwell.

She backed up from the door, turned on her heel, and bolted down the stairs after the group.
My love isn’t strong enough. I never deserved Matt. How could I when I sacrificed him so easily?

A metal door flew open and thick footsteps thumped down the stairs. Startled, she tripped and fell face first onto the fourth floor landing. She bit through her lip. Blood flew out in front of her, but not as far forward as her gun did. She scrambled to her feet before the gun finished spinning. When she reached for it, the barrel was pointed at her, a sure sign that her efforts to live were predestined to be futile.

The footsteps closed in as she righted herself and took the stairs again. She prayed it was Matt, but didn’t turn to see. Her gun grated down the railing, until she realized it was giving her away and pulled the butt away from the metal.

She could hear the group below her until the fight started a floor above her. Heaves and groans echoed off every surface. The walls crumbled above her head. She stepped up her pace. Stan’s form materialized about ten feet ahead. The thumping started again, but this time she was trailed by only one set of footsteps.