Catalyst (Book 1): Decay Chains (7 page)

The group moved much faster going down the stairs. They sailed through the fourth, and were steps from the third floor door, when she caught up to them. Stan turned around as she drew closer. The look in his eyes was lethal. She figured his death stare would soften when he saw that it was just her, but it didn’t.

“You brought company.” Stan motioned behind her.

“It was already in the stairwell.” She brushed past him without even trying to hide her bristles. Stan got under her skin like no one else. His gaze trailed over her as she passed. Love loss and raw anger bled out of his expression.

Vicky held the door open from inside the third floor. Dr. Louboutin took guarded steps till he was out of view. Once on the other side of the door, a new panic overtook Stormy.

CHAPTER NINE

DAYS UNTIL THE SUPERVIRUS GOES GLOBAL: 30:20:35

The third floor was too quiet and too empty. Something was off. Stormy couldn’t overcome the urge to leap back into the familiar stairwell.

“Move please.” Stan didn’t even make eye contact as he pushed past. She slid back to her former position immediately. Stan and Dr. Louboutin dragged a rail of chairs toward the door. Stormy was the only obstacle in their path, but she was stalling for a reason.

“Move for them.” Vicky’s eyes were pleading orbs of concern and fear nestled in-between creased cheeks.

The rest of her resisted, but Stormy’s feet obeyed Vicky’s command and carried her forward. The chairs remained in place long enough for the group to get about one hundred feet down the hall. The first hit scared the hell out of group. The door acquiesced and flew open on the second. Stormy breathed in relief when Matt’s figure flashed though the door and hopped over the chairs. He searched for her, and she beamed back at him. The aggression dissipated from his figure in microseconds. He nodded at her as he closed the door and pulled what was left of the chairs in front of it.

Matt’s back was still turned when Stormy felt the swift, harsh hands bite into her flesh. She reeled back as Stan’s grip closed over her wrist and turned. His fingernails dug into her skin. She screamed as he twisted her arm around. Her shoulder was about to pop out of place. She conformed to his will and curled around on her toes, trying to get out from under the pain. Her fingers released the gun, but it never hit the floor.

Stan released her and caught the gun with both hands. When Matt heard her cry out, he launched, but wicked speed didn’t save him this time. His arms and legs bowed in front of him as the bullet coursed through his torso. The shot knocked the air out of Stormy too. He landed feet away on his left side. Stormy remembered how to breathe and screamed again. This time, Vicky’s voice joined hers. She outpaced Vicky as they ran to Matt’s side.

“Stay back. Don’t go near him,” Dr. Louboutin shouted.

“Fuck you,” Stormy yelled. “Oh God, Matt. Matt.”

“We gotta go,” Stan said.

“We’re leaving,” Dr. Louboutin said.

The doctor’s tone showed no trace of concern. He may as well have been mulling over the weather. Stormy’s fists pumped. Her eyes watered. All she wanted was to close her arms around Matt and cry.

Her thoughts ran together. Thoughts of losing Matt collided with thoughts of scratching Stan’s eyes out. Her mind went completely blank when Matt leapt to a standing position. His fists balled. He hunched over like a stalking predator. Stormy didn’t react in time, but Vicky did and dragged her backward.

Stormy didn’t resist, but her eyes never left Matt. A gurgling, followed by a low growl, flowed out of his gut. He thrashed about and tossed the rail of chairs in her direction. When they crashed to the ground, their clanging drowned everything else out. A piece of metal cut into her shin and warm blood flowed down her leg. Vicky yanked her farther away. Stormy’s feet started to cooperate and peddle her backward.
He’s changing. Oh my God. This is it.

Matt’s eyes ran wild. He darted at Stormy and then backed up again. His legs carried him at an unnatural pace back and forth across the hall.
Matt’s gone. There’s nothing left of us. Oh God, no.

Stan kept firing off shots. None of the bullets hit their mark. Stormy caught Matt’s glare one last time. It was a look she knew, but had never seen from him. Angry, dead eyes met hers.

Matt darted out of the way of one last bullet before he launched himself through a window. His impromptu renovation welcomed fresh hell into the hallway. An emergency siren wavered in and out amidst gunfire. Waves of falling glass sliced through the other sounds in the room. Vicky released her to run out of the way of the plummeting shards. Stormy collapsed and was in the fetal position on the floor when she heard Vicky scream.

“There’s another one right there,” Vicky said. “Stan, on your left.”

Doors slammed. Erratic footsteps owned the hallway. Stormy lay in a field of broken glass and listened to the others fight off supers. She wanted her thoughts to consume her, but the supers could finish her off. Either way worked. 

Though she knew Matt wouldn’t return, she patiently studied his point of exit. Like it could bring him back or reset the clock. She blinked. The glass remained in place on the floor. She blinked again. Wind swept through the broken window. Maybe she wasn’t blinking hard enough.

A lump of heavy, breathless flesh, flung amidst shards of glass and contorted metal, she bled and cried on the cold tile. But she wouldn’t die here. She wouldn’t let them break her and never know the consequences.

Anger, super-like in its ferocity, took hold. She had misplaced her hatred when she blamed Stan. He hurt her, but not like Cold World had. They had taken everything and left her to live a life worse than death.

Something inside snapped. She wasn’t even aware of the feeling of falling until it stopped. The tile felt harder beneath her. The shards of glass cut deeper as they scraped against her legs. The pitch of the noises deepened. The taste of blood, which had been faint in her mouth, swirled. It tasted more bitter and coppery than ever before.

No longer afraid, she wanted to share her pain with its creators. If she was going to lose everything, those who took it from her were going to know the depth of her loss. She would deliver it to them—in person.  

Bits of glass caught up in her skin as she rose. Her fingers absorbed the sharp pains deftly as she slid across the floor. The fragments on her cheeks and in her hair caught the light that burst through the shattered window.

When Stormy reached the group, she was more collected, but they definitely weren’t. Panic emanated from Vicky as the super’s hold strangled her and his teeth neared her shoulder. Dr. Louboutin hovered behind Stan as he aimed.

“I don’t have many left,” Stan said. “Stay still.”

Tears flew down Vicky’s face. The super squeezed tighter. She closed her eyes and sped through a prayer. The super’s mouth opened in anticipation as it neared her glistening cheeks.

“Close your mouth,” Dr. Louboutin yelled.

One shot later, the super’s blood splattered across Vicky’s face. The rest of him crumpled next to her. For a few seconds, his arms and legs knocked about like they were in a hot frying pan. It wasn’t an image Stormy would forget easily or ever remember without feeling nauseated.

The hall returned to deathly silence. Dr. Louboutin closed the space between him and Vicky. He wound his arm around his wife and guided her to a cleaning cart a few feet up the hall. A handful of towels later, she was still shook up, but the brain matter was gone.

Stan checked his magazine. His eyes met Stormy’s and then turned away. He wasn’t getting off that easy.

“Asshole!” She went ballistic on him.

Flattened against a wall, Stan had no choice but to play punching bag. He let the first few hits go before grabbing her wrists and twisting them in on each other. He flipped her around and held her hands behind her. The wall was a distant memory. Stormy seethed until she broke down in sobs.

“I know you don’t get it and you hate me.”

“More than you can possibly fathom.”

“I had to. And the only thing I regret is that I might have hurt your wrist.”

“You’re hurting it now.”

“Oh, sorry.” Stan’s grip loosened a bit.

That was all she needed. “But I’d rather you break my damn wrist than shoot my boyfriend.”

Stormy dropped all her weight, which sent them both to the floor. She wrenched her hands free and toppled him again. Most of her jabs completely missed, but she landed a few solid hits to his face. If she blackened or clawed out an eye, she might be temporarily satisfied.

If Stan was angry, he never let it show. He bit down on his lip as he flipped her onto her back and grappled with her vying fists. Defeated, but still putting up a resistance, she writhed against his hold.

“You want me dead, I get it. But what you don’t want me to do is leave.”

“He’s right, Stormy,” Dr. Louboutin said. “Can’t you be unreasonably angry and walk simultaneously?”

Stan waited for her to burst into a fresh wave of sobs before getting off of her. “Leave her be for a minute.”

“Fine, but she’s only getting one,” Dr. Louboutin said. “We don’t have many left.”

“If you’re in that big of a hurry, go,” Stan said. “I’ll wait with her.”

“I will never forgive you, no matter how long you wait,” she said.

“We cannot separate now,” Vicky said. “I won’t leave either of you behind.”

“Fine,” Dr. Louboutin said. “We’ll die here in the middle of her pity party.”

Stormy sucked in a deep breath and held it till her chin stopped wavering. “Fuck all of you. Well, not you, Vicky.” She pulled herself off the floor and pushed past the doctor.

The curved ceiling helped the light bounce off it and frag in all directions. It would’ve been glorious on any other day. No one said much as they took on the hall. Stormy led by no less than six feet the entire way. She ignored the noises that came from inside the patient rooms. Their doors were closed, so their threats were staved, for the moment. They didn’t start finding dead bodies until they were three quarters of the way to the skyway.

“I think they got this tower too,” Dr. Louboutin said.

“Looks like it,” Stan said.

They weaved around the bodies, mindful to make sure none of them were still moving. Stormy listened closely and tried to decipher a faint sound. After several minutes, she realized it was music. It made more sense when they hit another string of bodies and one had an iPad in her hand. That mindless dance song could never sound as trivial as it did in that moment. It was eerie for some reason. She didn’t want to hear it anymore.

The hall led to an atrium, which housed the skyway, more elevators, and a massive lobby. The skyway funneled people between the towers, but never before today, with such emergency. Below lay a meandering common area, curvy sidewalks, a fountain, and a handful of busts sprinkled between well-manicured gardens. The aerial view today lacked the peace it had only yesterday.

Chaos ensued below. A stately gated entrance to the gardens once stood directly below the skyway on their end. Three cars were piled up in that spot now. The fountain flowed clean water into a muddled pool, creating a hue just under blood red. Smoke oozed from surrounding cars. Stormy could make out bodies here and there, but they didn’t concern her when they lay still. It was the ones that flashed from place to place that made her cringe.

The group strained to see the direction of the gunfire. Their best guess was that the shooters fired from a nearby rooftop, but they hadn’t been in their current location long. Stan pointed out scrapes and cracks in the glass. The fight must’ve been bad for trained soldiers to hit so far off mark.

“They’re here. The rescuers.” Vicky ran ahead of the group toward a shadowy figure at the entrance to Tower Two. “He hears the prayers of the meek.”

Weapon aimed, the soldier stepped onto the skyway. “Return to Tower One.”

Stormy ran to catch up. “Vicky, wait.”

Two more soldiers fell in line with the first. “Do not advance any farther. Return to Tower One now.”

“Vicky, stop,” Stan said.

She paid no mind.

“We’re not infected,” Stormy shouted. She was closing in on Vicky, as was Dr. Louboutin.

“Please. Please help us.” Vicky sounded overjoyed and out of breath.

“All facilities are on lockdown. Return to Tower One. Repeat, return to Tower One.”

“Vicky, come back,” Dr. Louboutin said.             

“Lethal force is authorized to maintain secure lockdown of these facilities.”

“Don’t fucking shoot,” Stormy yelled.

“This is your final warning. Return to Tower One for your own safety.”             

“Save us,” Vicky said.

“Vicky!” Dr. Louboutin screamed.

The soldier on the far right fired a warning shot.

Vicky kept going. When the soldier fired again, he wasn’t alone. Stan raised both arms over his head and screamed for them to stop.

The soldier’s weapon dropped to his side as he reached inside his cargo pocket and retrieved grenades.

“Drop down!” Stan shouted.

The soldier threw two grenades, one after the other. The second was part of a seamless swivel motion that aided his retreat safely back into Tower Two. The door shut hard behind the soldiers and then the skyway filled with smoke and screaming.

The first grenade hit just off Vicky’s left side. The other hit the skyway’s glass wall. The explosions took out an entire section of the skyway and sent everyone flying back into the atrium.

Stormy couldn’t hear anything except a tone that wavered in and out. Her ears were about to burst from the pressure, but she couldn’t move to do anything about it. She lay crumpled against a column, and remained pinned there by a large section of railing until Dr. Louboutin’s unsteady arms wound around her. They both fell under her weight.