RAGE (Descendants Saga (Crisis Sequence One)) (17 page)

Garth and Cassie move around her. I come into the intersection behi
nd them. Several lab employees lie dead on the ground. One of the eight also lies dead. Every one of them has been shot once in the head.

Sure we’ll have no problem out of them, Holly leads our group on through the carnage. I follow last again, looking back to be sure no one com
es up behind us. I look at the bodies, as I pass. Precision shots for sure, but there is something else. I don’t find any obvious wounds on these employees.

Holly and the others mov
e quickly. I dismiss the odd scene and move on. I have no time for solving mysteries right now.

We round a long curved wall now, our group spaced out a little by our pace. I hear a voice coming through a speaker somewhere, but the words are not loud enough to be distinct. Holly waves a hand back for us to pause, and we do. Her index finger to her lips tells us we need to be quiet now.

I move up next to Holly at the corner. I hear the growling rage of an infected individual very near. I also see where the wall has been painted with text and a warning symbol indicating biohazards. We have arrived at the lab where Scott Bishop and an unknown number of other scientists are locked inside.

As far as we know, there is one infected woman trying to get inside through the safety windows. Given the nature of this lab, it is impossible she would be able to do so. However, we don’t want to be attacked trying to get the scientists out.

I step back from the corner, motioning with my hand for Holly to do the same. She follows and joins me about fifteen feet back. This seems a safe distance where we can speak.

“I should be the one to go out first,” I
whisper.

“Absolutely not,” she replies tersely. “I’m the better shot.”

“You can also get infected,” I say, attempting to reason with her. “I’ve been bitten already and nothing has happened.”

“Doesn’t mean it can’t,” she replies.

“But we both know, I’ve got a better chance,” I explain. “How many guards have you seen walking around here? They were probably good shots, weren’t they?”

Holly doesn’t answer.

“Right, and most of them are probably lying on the floor somewhere in this place changing into zombies. You could miss, and you wouldn’t get another shot before that thing nails you.”

I don’t wait for a response
. I just walk past her. She doesn’t try to stop me, which is a little surprising, especially after our confrontation earlier. Maybe, she realizes I’m right about this.

I creep past where Garth and Cassie are standing. I’m close to
the corner, my gun ready to go out ahead of me the way Holly told me in the infirmary. “Make it an extension of your arm.” So far, her advice is spot on.

I wait just a moment, listening.

The woman leaps out from behind the corner, screaming bloody murder. We all jump out of our skins in surprise. I back away, trying to put a few paces between us. She lunges for me with bloodstained hands and eyes that are terrible. Her face is swollen and bruised. I imagine she’s been pounding it against the laboratory windows like a hammer.

Those gnarled
hands lunge for my throat, her mouth opening wide to tear into my flesh. My gun comes up in slow motion, but I know it won’t be in time. This is what I hoped to spare Holly from. I doubt my immunity from this plague as she comes upon me. I will become like Tom Kennedy, when she’s done with me.

The woman’s head lurches sideways
, as a spray of blood hits the opposite wall. I barely register what has happened. A shot fired, but not from behind where Holly was standing. This came from the same direction as the infected woman.

The creatures collapses sideways at our feet. My gaze comes up in time to see a handgun pointed at my head. The person holding the weapon is tall
with a muscular build and dark wavy hair. A rugged type. I notice that much even through the suit he is wearing.

His handgun
hardly made a sound. This puzzles me for a moment, until I notice the suppressor extending the barrel of the black handgun. It’s silenced.

He
appraises our group in a millisecond. I hear Holly gasp behind me, when she sees him. Is she startled by his appearance, or does she know who he is?

His eyes come back to me without pause. “Jonathan Parks?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say hesitantly.

His weapon drops immediately. A smile spreads across his face
, as he shoots out an inviting hand to me. “Special Agent Charles Smith,” he says, introducing himself in a smoothly proper British accent. “I’ve been sent down from MI6 to assess the situation here and bring you out safely to a more secure location.”

“What about us?” Garth asks in an annoyed tone.

“Sorry,” Agent Smith says. “I just do what I’m told from on high. Of course, you’re all welcome to leave the facility with us.”

Holly steps forward, lowering her handgun. “Thank you, Agent Smith,” she says. “I’m glad to see SIS didn’t give up on us just yet. I think we can still salvage the situation.”

“Absolutely,” he says.

I notice the badge on his lapel. It does have his picture and name
on it. I’m still trying to figure out if Holly knows the man, when he turns to lead us in a different direction, away from Scott Bishop and the others.

“What about the people trapped in the lab?” I ask
, as Holly falls in behind him. Has she forgotten them already, just because this guy showed up?

Holly turns to look at me. Garth and Cassie stand with me, looking between us.

“We were on our way to the lab,” Holly says to the agent. “There are people in there. They’re locked inside. We can’t leave them behind.”

“If they’re locked inside the lab then they should be safe
, until we can get a full team down here, right?” Agent Smith asks.

Holly stares at him for a moment, considering.

“After all, the lab is full of lethal pathogens,” he adds. “The last thing we want is to make this situation worse. A Hazmat team would be necessary to get them out of here safely, and I’m just not equipped for that kind of operation. One man, you see?”

Holly nods. “You’re right.” She turns to me. “Agent Smith is correct, Jonathan. It will take a special team to extract them.”

“But isn’t this place about to start crawling with those?” Cassie says, pointing to the dead zombie woman lying at our feet.

“Which is why I’m here
to see you get out safely, Jonathan,” Agent Smith says to me. “I’m sure Holly can speak to that better than I can.”

“You two know each other?” Garth asks.

“I’ve met Agent Smith before,” Holly says pointedly. “We’re not totally isolated from the rest of SIS just because we work below ground. MI6 agents brought all of you to this facility. Their Hazmat teams also rounded up the eight victims of the hospital attack.”

I nod. She is
correct.

“But why send someone just for me?” I ask.

“You may be the key to a cure for all of this,” Holly explains. “You said it yourself. You’re immune to the infection. That bite proved it.”

“You didn’t think
so a moment ago,” I argue.

Holly grins a little. “I just didn’t want to risk you going out there,” she says. “They’re more dangerous than just biting.”

“Of course,” Agent Smith interjects. “Holly is trying to look out for you. That’s why I’m here, also. We have to keep moving. SIS already has a private jet waiting to receive us at Heathrow.”

“We’re leaving
London?” I ask.

Smith looks at Holly. “Those are my orders.”

Penchant for Pain

1
2 Days Earlier

The air grows cloying. Hu’s body heat rises steadily, as his muscles begin to tremble uncontrollably. He moves from the couch, sliding down to the floor of the police precinct. On his knees, he tries to hold on, but the room spins. None of this makes any sense at all.

The heat becomes oppressive. He tears at the garments covering him. Why
do these restrict him? Spasms wrack his body, and he bites through his tongue. Blood pools in his mouth. He is drowning in it.

Hu cannot see. His eyes squeeze tightly shut
, and he can’t manage to open them. Heat upon heat, rising and consuming his flesh.

Voices call to him. The
y make sounds. He knew what those sounds meant. Memories fade, becoming nothing more than ghosts. He feels unsure. Do the voices call him to safety, or do they drive him toward madness?

Heat becomes
burning pain, a hunger that feels as though a beast is clawing to get out of his belly. Hu’s mouth opens and he screams, as though a hot poker is slowly driven through him. Every nerve is alive with pain. Every fiber of his being cries out for satisfaction.

How
can he satisfy this hunger? He has seen it here. Only moments ago, he looked upon it. His eyes remain shut while he screams. Hands fasten upon him, things that try to restrict him, to hold him down. He must not be contained.

Hu’s eyes pop open.
His screams still ring in his ears. Faces hover over him. Arms press down upon him, but they do not stop the agony. The hunger cries out from his very bones. Rise. Kill. Feed. Lessen the burning pain.

His hands find one of the faces
, pulling it to him. The face struggles to be free, but this only excites his desire. Many hands try to pry him loose, but the hunger makes him strong. They cannot stop him. He will feed and then have them as well.

H
is own screams are stifled by the feeding. Instead, the screams of another resound in his ears. This is good. This excites the hunger afresh.

Hu springs away, landing atop a piece of furniture. It holds no purpose in his mind except as a vantage point to find his next feeding. One is not enough. He must taste them all. His jaws ache for the biting and the tasting.

They dash this way and that. Hu lashes out and takes another attempting to flee. He comes upon her instantly, biting, tasting. The hunger is sated for a moment, but only a moment. He must have more. He must continue. If he stops, the burning returns for vengeance. It must be fed.

His
prey attack him. Do they want to bite him, to taste him? That is his place, his privilege. Come to me. I will have you.

Hu launches at one and then another. Some cry, some scream. Others try to defend
, and still others make attempts to attack and save their fellows.

He is like wind and shadow among them. They cannot hope to escape. Hu is invincible now, the hunger feeding him
, as he feeds the burning. They are not foes. They are not enemies. They are his to possess.

Like wheat
, they fall before his powerful arms and hands. His legs send him through the air. His feet pound the ground swift as a cheetah after her prey. He must feed the burning, as she seeks to feed her young.

Time has no meaning, though the light coming into the space is dimmer now than when he woke to his new purpose. He has fed. He has tasted and consumed. The burning is held at bay for now, but the desire to taste still swirls in his thoughts. It feels good.

They are his. He has fed upon some, and they no longer move. Others, he has freed from their imprisonment. They were for feeding. They were for tasting. Now, they are like him. They will burn and hunger and taste and feed. Hu is not alone. Their screams will bring them into purpose with him.

H
e cannot remain here. He moves from place to place and finds none left here that are not like him. Others are no more at all. They have ceased to exist. With life gone, there is no more desire for them.

Hu spies more
prey beyond the confines of this space. They move slowly to him. Cattle grazing that must be culled. He must have them as well.

Hu launches through a precinct window, landing in the street. His face and torso are covered in crimson, as though he were bathing in blood. The shattered glass and sight of the man combine to fuel panic and terror in the immediate vicinity.

Pedestrians
part before him, scattering in every direction. Others, further away, hold up cell phones and begin recording video. Hu jumps to the roof of a car and screams.

The
cry sounds predatory and shocking. Cars stop to view the sight. Pedestrians, who were running, stop some distance away to see what is happening. For the briefest moment, there is stillness.

Then Hu leaps away, catching hold of a young man with his cell phone trained upon the gruesome image.
Hu takes him down to the ground, tearing at the man, biting and tasting. He pummels him until the struggling stops. Then he moves on.

One after the other, Hu finds new prey and pounces.
People run terrified. A maniac prowls the streets. Someone must do something. Sirens sound in the distance, but from the police precinct, where the insane man emerged, there is nothing.

Hu moves like an animal. His appetite for prey is boundless. He is no longer Hu Takashi. He is less
, and he is more. He is hunger and pain. He is desire and destruction. He is on the loose and none can contain him.

Those whom Hu touches with his gift of purpose rise in like manner. They burn and thirst and hunger, knowing no satisfaction. Living is only feeding the monster within, sating pain with the pain of others, quenching desire with blood. Each new generation spawned creates another to follow.