Machines of the Dead (28 page)

Placing his M4 against the wall, he pulled out two flashbangs. Pulling the pin of one, he tossed it into the room. Gunfire pinged off the
doorframe
. He heard the grenade explode, hoping
he had
judged the distance correctly. He waved his arm in the doorway again, but there was no return fire this time. Pulling the pin on the other flashbang, he tossed it at his target, watching it sail through the air. A pair of legs was showing from the side of the desk. The man was down. Maybe hurt. The second flashbang landed right near the guy’s feet. Jack ducked back inside just before the explosion, then yelled to the others that it was time to go. 

He stepped into the room, scanning the area for other gunman, then kept his sights trained on the overturned desk, seeing the man’s legs moving.  

He heard the couch slide across the floor, its wooden legs screeching as if scared to death. The sound of shuffling shoes echoed from within the room, sounding like a herd of buffalo. Maria and Zaun appeared at his side, telling him they needed to move. 

With no time to shut the door, Jack pointed to where the downed man was and the group moved forward, guns trained on the area.  

Jack approached the area from the right side, Maria from straight ahead, and Zaun from the left.

The man’s legs disappeared as he pulled his feet in. Shit, Jack thought. The guy was getting his senses back.

As the group approached the desk, the guard popped up from behind it. He looked disoriented, his eyes rapidly blinking. He started firing wildly. The others returned fire, unleashing a stream of bullets that chewed up the man’s face, dropping him cold.

Turning, Jack saw the undead had entered the warehouse and were spreading out like anxious Black Friday shoppers told not to run. 

Jack and the others sprinted to the end of the room where the other security door was located. They made it with a small amount of time to spare
,
the slow undead still working their way around desks and chairs.

Jack slid the card through the card reader and entered the code. The red light went out and the green one came to life. He punched in the code and heard the door’s familiar click. Grabbing the handle, he pushed open the door only to be met with a gun to his face.

Guard Ryan Kellogg couldn’t believe it. The traitors were alive. And more than that, they looked okay, which was more than he could say for himself. Life just wasn’t fair, but then who said it would be? He laughed when Reynolds had told him and Jacobs to stay behind. Secure the warehouse
,
just in case. In case of what? In case those traitors tried coming back. He’d seen the zombies swarm on the apartment building shortly after the team went in. Not returning, he assumed
they had
all been killed. Guess he was wrong.

With all the zombies up the street, the guy bored out of his mind, Ryan had gone outside, wanting fresh air.
He had
been cooped up underground for way too long. He and the others were always worried about being overwhelmed by a horde whenever they left the bunker, but not from a bite. No. Bites were curable. One blast from the EMP or a
T
aser and all was well. It was being ripped apart and devoured that frightened them.

While patrolling the building’s perimeter, delighted to be breathing in fresh air, even if it was tainted with rot and a tinge of smoke from a nearby burning building, he was caught off guard when a zombie came from behind a dumpster and bit him. He’d killed the thing easily enough, sinking his knife into its head. 

When he came back inside, he had Jacobs
Taser
him, and didn’t have another thought about the bite until he started feeling weak later that night. Convincing himself he was just coming down with a cold, maybe the flu, he went to bed, but waking up in the morning had been difficult. All he wanted to do was sleep. His body ached and his head pounded something fierce. For some reason the
tasering
hadn’t taken. The bots were still alive. He’d had Jacobs
zap
him again and was then left in the room at the bottom of the stairs to rest. Two shots with the
Taser
should have
done it. Mentally, he’d felt better.

Unable to sleep, he got up and was barely able to make it to top of the stairs. If he had the flu,
he had
never had it this bad. He was burning up. Not caring how he looked, he’d taken off his shirt and pants, leaving only his shoes and underwear on. He was about to open the door and ask Jacobs to
Taser
him again when he heard the door unlock. 

He pulled his sidearm, always keeping it on him, and was glad he did when he saw Jack Warren and his band of scum. He’d used the last of his strength to draw the weapon however, feeling weaker than ever now. Holding the gun on Jack, his arm was trembling. If he could do one good, righteous thing before he died, it would be to pull the trigger and end this troublemaker’s life
,
but he didn’t think he even had the strength to do that.

“You don’t look so good,” Jack said.

He saw Zaun and the bitch traitor, Lopez
,
both with their weapons pointed down. He saw the undead filling up the operations center, coming his way. Then everything but Jack’s face went out of focus, the background scene nothing more than a nightmarish blend of moving gore.

“You’re infected,” Jack went on. “We can help.”

“Ryan,” Lopez said, “at least let us in or we’re all going to die.”

A drop of sweat fell into his eyes. He blinked, trying hard not to waver. A blanket of exhaustion fell over him. Too weak to remain standing, his arm went limp. The gun slipped from his grasp, clacking to the floor. He stumbled backwards a few steps and fell.

Opening his eyes, Ryan saw Jack kneeling beside him on his right, Maria on his left. They must have gotten the door closed in time. No death for the traitors, at least not at this moment. Maria was speaking to him, her words sounding as if he was underwater. He was so hot. He’d love to be in a pool of cold water. For sure his death was fast approaching. Someone would put a bullet into his skull, but hopefully before that he’d come back and get to bite one of them. No, that wasn’t right. He was a soldier. He needed to do what was right by his country. True, he was getting a nice chunk of change, or rather was getting a nice chunk of change from Reynolds, but he still loved his country. He didn’t want to see it crumble. So many dead already. He had to tell these people what had happened to him. How the taser hadn’t worked. They had to know so when Reynolds captured them,
they would
tell him. They were the last chance to stop the epidemic. Maybe it was already too late. The damn thing had spread so fast and was mutating. The little fuckers were smart it seemed, or as Reynolds put it: “programmed to adapt.”

Grabbing Maria’s arm, he tried to speak, but his mouth wasn’t working properly. He could feel the slowness of his jaw, the slug-like movement of his tongue. His mouth felt like it was filled with sand. Pain exploded in his head, filling his vision with white. Death couldn’t come quick enough for Ryan Kellogg. Let the bots have his body, for when he was dead he’d no longer care.

“He’s trying to tell us something,” Maria said.

“Tell . . . Raaayy. . . nnoo. . . .ldsss. B . . . bots . . . stron . . . ger.”

“What?” Zaun asked.

“I think he said to tell Reynolds something,” Maria answered.

Jack felt his heart sink. “The bots are stronger. He wants us to tell Reynolds the bots are stronger.” 

“What’s he talking about?” Zaun asked.

Jack saw the man’s body stiffen for a moment, then go slack. Maria felt for a pulse.

“He’s gone,” she said, then closed his eyes.

“One less asshole to worry about,” Zaun spat.

“What are those?” Maria asked, pointing at two small marks on the dead man’s chest.

“Looks like wounds from taser prongs,” Jack asked. 

Maria nodded. “Shit. This guy’s been tasered, and recently. Look at how fresh the wounds are.”

Jack agreed. The marks where the prongs had attached themselves were still raw.

“Whoa,” Zaun said, backing away. “Are you telling me this guy was tasered and he stayed infected?”

“We can’t know for certain, but it appears so.” Maria stood.

“You’re telling me those things are unstoppable now? That once we’re infected we’re fucked?”

“No, she isn’t saying that,” Jack said, “but we have no idea what happened to this man. Maybe the taser charge wasn’t strong enough. Factory defect. Who knows?”

“Are we waiting to see if he gets up?” Zaun asked. “Or should I run him through?”

Jack and Maria moved out of the way and let Zaun destroy the corpse’s brain, using his sword. 

“Maybe he was infected right after he was tasered,” Maria suggested. 

“It’s possible,” Jack agreed, but didn’t think it likely. “If there is a new strain of bot and it’s immune to the voltage in a taser then we have to be extra careful.”

“This just brought suck to a whole new level,” Zaun said.

Maria nodded, staring at the corpse.

She stripped the dead body of ammo and the group headed to the room at the bottom of the stairs. A crate containing ten MRE’s, twelve bottles of water and a first aid kit sat next to a cot. 

Using his flashlight, Jack checked the corridor that led back to the tunnel. He told the others it looked clear. Everyone put fresh clips and magazines into their weapons, grabbed the food, water, and first aid kit, then headed down the long, dark passage by flashlight.

Reaching a security door, Jack used the keycard and entered the code. Hearing the familiar click
,
weapons ready
,
he opened the door. 

He let out a sigh of relief when no one stuck a gun in his face.
The tunnel was still illuminated by the overhead lights. The group moved forward without talking, wanting to be able to hear if anyone was up ahead. Their footfalls seemed to grow louder over time, but only the stillness of the tunnel made it seem that way. Some time later, nerves on end, they came to the split in the passageway, one path leading back to the bunker, the other to some unknown location.

Taking the “mystery” tunnel, the group went on. A short time later, much shorter than the trek they took in the other tunnel, the group came upon another security door.

“No way we’re out of the city,” Zaun said.

“No, definitely not,” Jack agreed. He felt a portion of the hope he had inside leak out like the air in a punctured tire. It appeared
they would
have to fight their way out of the city, and with limited ammo and supplies. Thinking of all
they had
gone through, he grew even more determined
,
the deflating tire filling with air. He wouldn’t lose hope now. Couldn’t let himself become overwhelmed with doubt. They’d come too far to give up. If they had to
,
they would
fight with every cell in their bodies.

With renewed vigor, Jack used the keycard and had the door opened in seconds. They entered an empty room with an elevator and a set of stairs leading up. An overhead light shined dimly. They took the metal-mesh stairs up five flights before coming to a small landing and another security door. With no idea what to expect, every closed door a potential nightmare, Jack did his thing and had the door unlocked in no time.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Let’s do this,” Maria said.

Jack opened the door and saw the back end of a Chevy Tahoe. Stepping inside, he saw that he was in some kind of garage. To his left, lined up like
racehorses
, were three more identical black SUV’s. The garage had no windows save for three skylights above; each one permitting bright sunlight to pour in.     

Jack walked over to a door. He figured it led to the outside. He tried the knob. It turned. Opening it a crack, he peered out, the cold wind causing his eyes to water. Through teary vision, he saw a paved lot. About thirty feet across from him was a small building with six bodies strewn in front and all wearing the familiar black fatigues. Over the door was the word “maintenance.”
Maintenance
my ass, Jack thought. Behind the building were two chain-link fences topped with spiraling razor wire. A number of undead were pawing at the outer fence. There was a sign on the inner fence, the writing too small to read, but the large yellow lightning bolt was all he needed to see, letting him know the fence was electrified. Closing the door, he told the others what he saw.

“So now what?” Zaun asked.

“We check out the area,” Jack said. “Take it from there.”

Opening the door again, a little farther this time, he checked to make sure the area was clear, then stepped out, the others right behind him. 

They were in another industrial part of one of the outer boroughs, Queens or Brooklyn most likely. Hundreds of undead surrounded the place, the outer fence keeping them at bay. About seventy-five feet to the left was a long narrow building that ran along the shoreline of the Hudson River. Manhattan stood on the other side of the water, still standing proud despite the undead filling its streets. With fresh meat in their sights, the undead became more animated, their bloodied, torn bodies almost seeming to dance in place.