Salvation: Secret Apocalypse Book 5 (A Secret Apocalypse Story) (21 page)

I leave the metal stake in Thomas’s head and I run out of the room and out of
the house. I run right into Kenji.

He grabs me and
holds me tight.

I bury my head
into his chest and I want it to be over.

“Get behind me,”
Kenji says. “This place is not safe.”

I see a horde of
infected from across the arena, pouring up and out of the catacombs, coming
towards the house.

Ben and Jack are
chaining the front gates of the compound shut. Hopefully this will buy us some
time.

Jack makes his
way over to us and makes sure I’m all right. “Damn it, Rebecca. You can’t just
run off like that. What the hell were you thinking?”

The truth is, I
wasn’t thinking. I was angry and I’m still angry and I wanted revenge.

“I don’t know,”
I say. “I was so angry. He had no right to do what he did. No right.”

“We need to move
through the house,” Kenji says. “Go out the rear. The main corridor that leads
out of the arena and out of the labyrinth is just beyond this compound.”

“Where’s
Thomas?” Ben asks.

“He’s dead,” I
say.

“You killed
him?”

I shake my head.

We move back
inside the mansion.

Jack inhales
sharply at the smell and at the sight of all the dead bodies. “What is this
place?”

“Target
practice,” Kenji says.

“What?”

Kenji points at
a corpse nailed to the wall. “See that yellow sticky note?”

Sure enough, on
the chest of the corpse, is a sticky note. A blank, yellow sticky note.

In the middle of
the sticky note is a bullet hole. Sometimes two bullet holes. Other corpses had
playing cards stuck to their chests.

Ace of Spades.
Ace of Hearts.

The bullet holes
are right through the picture.

“They use the
sticky notes and the playing cards as target practice,” Kenji explains. “You
hit the card, it’s a kill shot. If you miss too many times, you’re off the
team.”

“Jesus Christ,”
Jack says. “This is madness.”

We move past
Thomas’s body and no one sees him amongst all the other dead bodies and I don’t
point him out because I don’t know why.

The further we
move through the house I begin to realize that the sticky notes and playing
cards are mostly located on the forehead of the corpses.

A
headshot is the only way.

“We need to be
careful,” I say. “There were infected people on the upper floors.”

“Yeah,” Ben
says, as he removes his cowboy style revolver from his holster. “We know. We
heard and saw the gunshots.”

We make our way
towards the back of the house. We climb the back wall of the compound, taking
care to avoid the razor wire. Ben doesn’t even need to use his revolver. We
enter the main corridor that will lead us out of the arena and into the
research labs.

We are so close.

“This corridor
leads to the research lab,” Kenji says. “We’re almost there.”

We start running
and I can’t believe it. We have reached the express lane that leads out of the
labyrinth.

Kenji leads the
way as we navigate each fork in the corridor. Making sure we alternate. Right
then left. Ignoring every little side passage.

Eventually, we
can see the bright spot of the exit. We run towards it.

We step through the exit, leaving the dark world of the labyrinth behind us. We
enter the research facility.

Or so we think.

We are in a
room.

A plain room.

On the other
side of the room, about fifteen feet away, directly opposite where we are
standing, is what appears to be an electronic door. The electronic door is made
of glass, but the glass is really, really thick. So I’m guessing it’s not
regular glass. I’m guessing it’s reinforced.

Apart from the ultra-thick
glass, it’s the kind of door you find at the entrance to a supermarket. But
there is no one standing on the other side, waiting to greet us.

The sign above
the electronic door reads:

Quarantine
and Decontamination Facility.

We look through
the glass doors into the next room. The next room contains a few bunk beds. A
few desks. A few computers. A small kitchen. A bookshelf. A television.

The room almost
looks like a small apartment.

This is in stark
contrast to the room we find ourselves in now. The room we find ourselves in
now is completely bare. Completely empty.

Plain white
tiles on the floor.

The walls on the
side of the room contain large, one-way mirrors. Behind us is the entrance to
the labyrinth. And this is now sliding shut.

And now it is
closed.

And now we are
locked in a room that is called the ‘Quarantine and Decontamination Facility’.

In the next room
over, I can see the television through the glass door. The television turns on
all by itself. The screen flickers and comes to life. It appears to be hooked
into the security cameras. And the security camera is showing a live feed.

And on this live
feed, I can see Maria.

She is tied to a
chair. Her mouth is gagged.

And there she
is.

Alone.

Alive.

I don’t see the
man in the gas mask, but I know he is near.

I call out to
Maria but she can’t hear me.

She is sitting
in the middle of the Control Center. In front of what looks like a massive
cinematic screen. She has a front row seat. But the roles have been reversed
because she is not part of the audience. She is the star. She is sitting on the
stage. Center stage.

All she needs
now is a spotlight.

A close up.

All she needs
now is for someone to say, “Camera rolling.”

And then for
someone to yell, “Action.”

I can’t let that
happen.

“Where is that?”
Jack says. “Where is she?”

“The Control
Center,” I say. “We have to get her. We have to cut her loose. Find a place to
hide.”

Jack is smiling.
And I suddenly realize he hasn’t seen Maria in over two weeks.

“Let’s go,”
Kenji says. “Quietly.”

Ben moves up to
the electronic doors and tries to open them with brute force but they don’t
budge. He takes out his revolver and points it at the glass and stands back.
But before he can fire a shot, he is interrupted by a recorded message.

A soothing
female voice says, “Quarantine and decontamination procedure initiated.”

“What the hell
does that mean?” I ask.

Kenji and Jack
are looking around the room, trying to figure out where the recorded message is
coming from.

“Quarantine and
decontamination procedure will commence in five seconds,” the female voice
says.

Ben kicks the
electronic door but again it does not budge.

Jack moves over
to the one-way mirror and kicks it. But the glass does not break.

“Four seconds.”

Ben points his
revolver at the mirror. “Stand back, kid.”

He fires the
gun.

Nothing happens.
It doesn’t even crack. There’s hardly a mark.

The mirrors are
also reinforced.

They are
designed to withstand abuse.

This whole room
is designed to withstand abuse.

“Three seconds.”

Ben slides the
gun back in its holster.

On the ceiling
we notice small holes opening up. They are spaced evenly apart. Like a grid.

“Two seconds.”

“What do we do?”
I ask.

“There’s nothing
we can do,” Kenji says.

“One second.”

Water is sprayed
from the holes in the ceiling. It is high pressured. It stings my skin. I shut
my eyes tight and I hold my breath. After about a minute the water cuts out.

But then the
room begins filling with gas.

I continue to
hold my breath, but eventually I need to breathe. Eventually I start sucking in
the gas uncontrollably.

And my throat
tickles and I start to cough and it is hard to swallow.

Is the gas
poisonous?

Is it lethal?

Is this a gas
chamber? A death chamber?

The guys are all
doubled over, coughing and choking and dying, just like me.

I can’t believe
we walked right into a gas chamber.

Suddenly my arms
feel heavy.

My eyes feel
heavy.

But I can still
breathe.

And maybe this
gas is not lethal.

No.
It’s not. We’d be dead by now if it was.

I realize the
gas is a kind of knock out gas.

An anesthetic.

A sedative.

Suddenly, the
electronic door opens and a dark figure is standing at the entrance. I can’t
see their face. Or their eyes. This someone grabs me. I can’t see who it is
through all the gas but their grip is iron tight. And there is no point in
struggling.

It is the man in
the gas mask.

He pulls me into
the next room and throws me on the ground.

He closes the
door, locking Ben and Kenji and Jack inside the gas chamber. We are separated
and they are trapped and I am alone. I am face to face with the man in the gas
mask.

A monster.

The devil.

“Do not fight
it,” he says. “You will not win. Give yourself into it.”

I ignore him and
I fight.

I fight the gas,
the anesthetic, the sedative. But it is no use. It is utterly pointless.

As I begin to
pass out, I hear the watch beep. It tells me that I am dying and that I do not
have long. And neither does Maria.

The suffering
will soon end.

And maybe it’s
for the best.

All of a sudden,
I am so unbelievably sleepy and I can no longer fight.

You
will not win.

He’s right. I am
no match for this man, this psychopath, this reptile, this snake, this monster.

I am no match
for the devil.

I wake to the sounds of a man choking. I wake to the sounds of a man dying.

He is dying
painfully.

I open my eyes.
My vision is blurry and unfocused but this is what I see…

I see the man in
the gas mask standing over a soldier. One of the men from the death squad.
There’s two other dead soldiers close by. The man in the gas mask raises his
machete and decapitates the death squad member easily. Quickly. The machete
sliced through, like a hot knife through butter.

I have no idea
where I am. I have no idea where this psychopath has taken me.

Did he leave the
others in the decontamination room?

What about
Maria?

How long have I
been asleep for?

I look around, trying
to take in my surroundings. Each time I move my head, each time I move my eyes,
it takes a lifetime for my vision to come back into focus.

But when my eyes
finally do focus, I wish they hadn’t.

I appear to be
in a morgue.

To my left is
the freezer where they store the bodies. To my right are the stainless steel
beds they use to conduct autopsies on. Above me are the blindingly bright
fluorescent lights. In front of me is the man in the gas mask.

At
his feet are three dead soldiers.

And me.

I scurry back on
my hands and ass. I move against the wall.

Nowhere to run.
Nowhere to hide.

The man in the
gas mask stands tall. He is breathing hard, his scar covered chest is heaving.

I am reminded
once again that killing is hard work.

My watch beeps
at me and I have only one hour left.

One
hour.

I try and figure
out how long I’ve been asleep for, but it is hard to think. My mind is slow and
sluggish, and simple arithmetic is the hardest thing in the world right now.

This is my brain
on sedatives. This is my brain on general anesthetic.

The man in the
gas mask looks over at me and sees that I’m awake. “It is almost time,” he
says.

I open my mouth
to speak but my throat is unbelievably dry.

Blood drips from
the blade of the machete and is swallowed by the pools of blood on the floor.

“Time for what?”
I finally say. “Where am I?”

“Time to educate
the world,” he answers. “To set the people free. To release them from
purgatory. To create a new future.”

I am looking at
his machete and at the blood dripping rhythmically from the blade. I am looking
at the three dead soldiers. Three dead Special Forces soldiers. Members of the
General’s death squad. “You know how to fight,” I say. “You’ve had weapons
training. And combat training. Where did you learn that?”

He raises the
blade of the machete and he appears to study it. I say that he
appears
to be studying the blade because
I can’t be certain, because I can’t see his eyes. He then runs two fingers down
the blade. His left forefinger and his left middle finger. He does this to wipe
the blood away. He does this on both sides.

“And you know
about the nano-virus,” I add. “You know that Kim was named Test Subject Zero.
You know
everything
. Who the hell are
you?”

He kneels down
next to me. His breathing is amplified through the air filters of the gas mask.
It is calm and steady.

“I was taught by
the best,” he says. “Better men than I. Stronger men. I was taught by the best
and my life depended on it. So I learnt quickly.”

In my mind’s eye,
I see a school. A university. For psychopaths. Taught by psychopaths.

“Do you know the
difference between two warriors?” he asks. “Two soldiers? Soldiers that are
essentially the same. The same height. The same weight. The same strength. They
carry the same rifles. And the rifles use the same bullets, made to the same
exact specifications. What is the difference? Who wins the fight? Who wins the
battle? Who wins the war? Who survives?”

I
shake my head because it sounds pointless. It is pointless. I don’t have time
for this. I need to get out of here and I need to find Maria.

The man in the
gas mask slams his fist into the wall above my head, and he cracks the tiles.
“Answer me!”

The force of the
blow makes me flinch. “No one wins,” I say. “There are no winners. War is
pointless.”

“Who survives?”

The man in the
gas mask is challenging me. I don’t know why. And I don’t know why this
matters. I don’t know why I am still alive. I can’t figure it out. I can’t put
all the pieces of the puzzle together.

“What are they
fighting for?” I ask.

“Their lives,”
he answers. “Their homes. Their future. They fight for justice. They fight
because their lives depend on it. And in doing so, they fight with every fiber
of their being and every ounce of their strength. This is how I learnt to
fight. This is
why
I learnt to
fight.”

He is telling me
that he fights for:

My life.

My future.

My home.

My family.

My long lost
friends.

“And this is why
you are fighting now,” he says. “For your life. Your future. Your home. Your
family. Your friends.”

And I think to
myself that maybe he has a point.

“So what is the
difference between two warriors?” he asks again.

I shake my head
and I say, “I don’t know,” because I genuinely don’t know. I have no goddamn
idea and I want this to be over.

“The difference
between two warriors is the fear of death,” he says as he picks up the three
severed heads.

He picks them up
by the hair. He moves over to the wall of freezers and opens three of them. He
tosses each head into its own individual freezer. “These soldiers were afraid.
They acted like they weren’t. But they were.”

“Everyone
is afraid of death,” I say. “It’s only natural. It’s only human.”

And
this is why people are afraid of the Oz virus. Not because it kills people. But
because it brings them back. The virus forces us to confront death. To confront
our own mortality. It is the physical representation of death. And there is no
escaping it. We are surrounded by it and chased by it.

I say this all
in my head because I don’t have time to get into a philosophical debate with
this guy. I have less than one hour left. I need to find Maria before it’s too
late.

“Where is
Maria?” I ask.

“I have no fear
of death,” he says, ignoring my question. “Not anymore.”

And I say,
“Bullshit. You are afraid. Just like the rest of us. You wouldn’t be wearing
that mask if you weren’t afraid.”

“We all wear
masks. We are all liars.”

He is not making
any sense because he is insane and I need to come to terms with that.

“Did you kill my
friends?” I ask.

“No,” he
answers. “I did not. They are not part of the plan. They do not matter. Do not
let your fears for their safety cloud your judgment. Do not let your fears stop
you from seeing the big picture.”

“What plan? What
big picture? What the hell are you talking about?”

I
look at my watch.

I still can’t
put the pieces of the puzzle together.

“Let go of them,”
he says. “Let go of everything. Then, you will no longer be afraid.”

I shake my head.
I can’t let go. My friends are the only thing I have left.

“You are close,”
he says. “In the labyrinth. You were close.”

I begin to
realize that he’s probably been watching us move through the Fortress. He’s
been watching us the whole time.

Watching us
struggle and argue and run and fight.

He has been
watching us die.

I wonder if the
catacombs have security cameras. I don’t remember seeing any.

“I have been
scared the whole time,” I say. “It never gets any easier.”

“It does,” he
says. “If you spend enough time on the battlefield. If you let go of all
worldly attachments, you will lose the fear of death.”

He picks up a
decapitated soldier. He picks him up by the belt of his pants and throws him
into one of the morgue freezers. He then shuts the door and locks it.

“Once you lose
the fear of death,” he continues. “You begin to look for him. For Death. And he
is there. On the battlefield. He is always there. And he is down here. He is
down here right now. And you can find him if you want.”

He picks up
another body. Again, he picks up the decapitated soldier by the belt. The belt
is a large, thick, canvas belt.

It’s almost like
a utility belt. So many attachments and hooks. For water. For ammo.

A knife.

Each belt has a
knife attached to it. A large hunting knife.

There is one
body left. One knife.

I need this
knife.

“The first time
I saw him, the first time I saw Death, he was riding a horse. He was wearing a
black, hooded robe. I have never seen his face. Never seen his eyes. But I
will. One day. And so will you. You will see him very soon.”

He says he has
never seen his face and never seen his eyes, and I think that maybe I am face
to face with the Angel of Death right now.

“Why don’t you just kill me?” I say. “Why are you torturing me? Why did
you inject me with a time-release nano-virus?”

He places the decapitated soldier in the second morgue freezer. “Because
you have proven yourself. You are a fighter. A warrior. I saw you. At the
outpost. I have seen what you are capable of. You have fought your way across
this country. And I have watched you fight your way through this Fortress. You
are strong. You are a survivor. And your death will be remembered. You, and
your death, will become legend.”

Yes. He is absolutely insane.

And there is one decapitated body left on the ground, right near my feet.
And there is one knife left.

“You’re just like General Spears,” I say. “You’re just crazy. You’ve
lost your goddamn mind. You think you can play God. You think you are God. But
you’re not. You’re just a man. A stupid man, who thinks he can save this world
by killing millions of innocent people.”

“Billions,” he says.

“What?”

“I am going to kill billions of people. And they are not innocent. No
one is innocent. And I am nothing like General Spears. Nothing.”

The man in the gas mask is still over by the morgue freezers. He is
checking the locks. Checking the other freezers and the temperature readings.

He has his back to me, and he is not paying me any attention, so I make
my move. I dive forward and slide the knife out of the dead soldier’s belt.

It is a large knife. It has a slightly curved tip. A serrated edge.

I hold the knife with two hands, like a sword. Like it has special
powers or something.

I sit back down against the wall, and hide the knife behind my back
before the man in the gas mask turns around.

He is still checking all the freezers. He is making sure each one is
locked. He is checking and re-checking the temperature readings.

Maybe this morgue contains infected specimens.

Freezing is the only way to contain them.

“What about children?” I ask. “What about people who have never done
anything to you or anyone else in their entire lives. These people are
innocent. And you are sentencing them to death.”

“A perfect circle has no beginning,” he says as he checks the locks. “It
has no end. We raise our children in our own image. In the image of God.
Because we think we know best. We think we are all knowing. We think we know
what is right and what is wrong. But we don’t know a thing. And these children
are not innocent. They are the seed of the next generation. They are the fuel
for the never ending wars. They are just a number. A number to increase the
ranks. A body to recruit. A soul to poison. A vessel to spread hate. That is
all they are.”

“You don’t know that. You can’t predict the future. Just listen to
yourself. You’re insane!”

He finishes locking the morgue freezers and he moves over to me. He
bends down and picks up the last remaining body. He does not notice the missing
knife.

“The children are the future,” I say, arguing with him.

I know I am never going to change his mind, but I am trying to keep him
distracted so I can end this. So I can slide the knife into his neck.

“There is hope,” I continue. “They can have freedom. They can choose
peace. We can have peace.”

He throws the last body into the last freezer and locks the door. “No. A
child will become poisoned. And then they are poisonous. And then they are the
cancer spreading. It is inevitable. And therefore it has already happened. You
do not need to possess the gift of foresight to see this. You do not need to
predict the future to see the future. No one is innocent. The crimes, the wars
are never ending. They have already happened. The only way to win, the only way
to have peace, the only way to have freedom, is to set the world on fire. Burn
the old Empires to the ground.”