The Containment Team (18 page)

STIFLING A CURSE, I froze, uncertain what I should do next. Some put a lot of stock in trusting their instincts. I am usually one of those, except for when I’m around a woman I like. I’ve learned through hard experience that if I am, any good sense I have usually goes out the window.

Perhaps that was why I hesitated.

It had become second nature for me to ignore my gut whenever I was around Madelyn. Not that I was blaming her. I’m just explaining my momentary lapse of judgment and why I didn’t listen to the voice in the back of my head screaming that the situation was all wrong and that I needed to take immediate action. 

Madelyn and I were over. Done. She’d made that clear. I couldn’t let her brief relapse of emotion sway me into thinking otherwise. If we were going to get out of this alive, I had to be able to know what my gut was saying and act on it. That meant I had to get her out of my head.

The dog looked me in the eye and I could see real comprehension over there. There was no doubt I was looking into the eyes of a creature that was self-aware. Not wanting the monster to pick up on the fact that I was onto them, I looked away from his gaze and continued to lower my shotgun.

I carefully examined the dog's fur from the corner of my eye but didn’t see any sign of blood film or anything else like it. This dog had shifted long enough ago that it had returned to a normal enough state, similar to how Pratt’s hair had grown back. I froze when the butt of my shotgun hit the floor.

Trying to bring my shotgun back up to the firing position would be suicide. After a long pause where I couldn’t come up with anything else to do, I rested the barrel of my gun against the wall and straightened. Her light stayed on me until she saw my hands in the air.

Once I had done that, she turned her attention and the light back to Pete. “Tell me what happened to Pratt. Where did he go?”

I didn’t listen as Pete launched into an explanation of everything that had happened once we’d encountered Pratt on the second floor. My mind focused instead on our situation, trying to think of a way out. Ricky was close enough I could feel his breath on the skin of my hand. If I were to reach for my shotgun I had a feeling Ricky would bite me. Was there blutom in the dog's saliva? If so, all he had to do was draw a little blood and I would be at risk.

My hand curled into a fist of its own accord but I forced it back open. I would die before that happened. I wasn’t about to let my body be contributed to the mass uprising.

That posed an interesting question. Did a person have to be alive in order for the blutom to shift or could Pratt just head to the morgue and claim all the bodies there?

Pete’s voice caught and I was drawn back to the conversation. His back straightened and I could tell by his curled fist he’d just figured out we were dealing with two shifted creatures. As I had tuned them out, I figured it was something Claire had said that had tipped him off to what they were.

“That’s all we know,” Pete said, his voice more confident than normal, which was saying something. He was faking it. “He and the pack were heading to the center of town last we saw them. Are you satisfied we haven’t shifted? We must find a way to fight these things.”

“No. A woman in my position can’t be too careful.” It sounded wooden, devoid of any emotion.

“How do you propose to test us then?” Pete hesitated and I could hear the next words on his lips but they didn’t come.
How do we test you?

I’m glad he didn’t say them. My guess was the only reason why she hadn’t already done something to us was because she wanted to know where Pratt had gone. It was also likely she wanted to get us to let down our guard before trying to take us on.

Now that we’d told her what she wanted and we’d disarmed, I expected the worst.

These shifted monsters that had time to adjust did a much better job of controlling themselves and playing the part of the creature they had taken control of. The dog's long tongue lolled out of its mouth, it sat back on its haunches, and looked just like a real dog. It was the intelligent eyes that gave away the lie. 

“The lab will have the equipment I need,” Claire said, her voice cold and toneless, in much the same way that Pratt’s had been. The quivering that had been there before was gone now. These monsters were even able to act. It was the uncertainty in her voice earlier that had caused me to doubt. It was because of Pratt’s stiff performance that I’d assumed they would have limited capacity in that area.

How big of a fool was I?

If my internal warning bells hadn’t been going off before, they were blaring now. I could see the steps she had in mind. Step one, get us to give up our weapons. Step two, isolate us on the stairs. Step three, take us out one by one in rapid succession. Step four, shift all our bodies.

I took a step forward, partially putting myself in between the dog and my shotgun. “If I recall correctly the stairs are back that way.” I pointed behind us with one hand while grabbing my shotgun with the other.

Madelyn gasped and Ron groaned while I whipped up my gun as Ricky jumped up on me, knocking me onto the floor. I could do nothing else other than jam the barrel of my gun into his open mouth. The dog snarled as I reached for the trigger but I was unable to get my hand in place. Ricky clamped down on the barrel of my shotgun, almost swallowing six inches of it, and tried to yank it out of my hands. I heard gunshots as the dog and I struggled, but I was unable to tell who had fired or if anybody had been hurt. I prayed my friends would be all right as I kneed the dog in the abdomen and tried to twist in such a way as to free my hand so I could pull the trigger.

Ricky didn’t flinch and I struggled to keep a hold of my weapon as it shook its head, trying to yank it from my hands. In the end, it was blind luck that my hand found the trigger and I blew Ricky’s brains onto the wall. One moment Ricky’s foot had been on my hand, the next it was free and I was able to pull the trigger. 

As I kicked the struggling body of the dog off me, I came to my feet and pumped in another shell. Claire was gone. Pete and Ron were bent over Madelyn.

My blood ran cold as I pointed my shotgun at Ricky’s shoulder and blew a hole into the middle of it. I emptied the shells in my gun, blowing off his other shoulder and his hindquarters. When he couldn’t move other than to roll around, I went to Madelyn.

Shoving Ron out of the way, I knelt beside her, careful not to touch her.

“What happened?” I asked.

Madelyn smiled up at me. “It probably looks worse than it is.”

“Her arm,” Pete said. “Claire grazed it with a bullet.”

“Ron,” I said, “stand guard. Anything that moves toward us just shoot it, don’t try to ask questions. Watch out for Ricky. Remember, the frickin’ things can heal. Slammer, there’s a flashlight in the side pocket of my pack.” I was already fishing a knife out of my pocket.

Pete flipped on the light and I watched Madelyn’s pupils constrict. Despite her easy going attitude, her face was wrenched with pain. I looked back at the dog, glad for the momentary distance between Madelyn’s wound and blutom I’d just freed from the wretched animal. I hoped we had enough time to get her out of the way before the animal healed.

“Quick,” I said, “shine the light on me.”

Pete opened his mouth but stopped short of voicing the question. Panic spread across his face as he realized the secondary danger Madelyn was currently facing. All it took was one drop of blutom falling onto her bloody arm and she’d be switching sides.

I looked down as he lit me up. Several big globs of blutom on my chest had formed into balls. The sides quivered, pointing in the direction of Madelyn. Assuming they could somehow sense the blood or the wound, I stepped back from her and flung the balls down the hall towards the place that Claire had disappeared. Pete continued to sweep me with the light until he’d found a couple of smaller balls. These too went down the hall with the others.

Ricky was rolling on the floor, trying to get up. It was a sorry sight, and I might have felt bad for him if it wasn’t for the danger that he posed. I was happy to see the healing process was going much slower for him than it had for Pratt. Was the healing limited by the amount of blutom available in the system? Or was it a factor determined by the body of the host?

I wanted to kick Ricky further down the hall but refrained from doing so. I didn’t want to get any more blutom on me than I already had. It was better to just take care of Madelyn.

She sat up.

“What are you doing?” I demanded. “Lay back down until we’ve had a chance to take a look at it.”

“It’s fine, it’s just a scratch.” Despite her strong words, her voice was weak and filled with fear.

“We’ll be the judge of that.” 

Pete went over me carefully with my light as the seconds ticked slowly by.

“You’re clear,” Pete said after it seemed an eternity had passed. 

“Okay,” I said, “grab her legs, I’ll grab her arms.”

Madelyn refused to lie back down but she didn’t try to get to her feet as we prepared to move her further away from the source of the blutom. 

Once we were in position, I looked down at Madelyn's stricken face.

“Look at you,” she said, shaking her head slowly, “with your hands all over me. I never thought I’d let you touch me again.” She snorted. “Little did I know the lengths you’d go.”

I smiled before looking at Pete. “On the count of three.”

When I said three, we hauled her back to the end of the hallway. Ron backed after us as we did. Once we had set her down and Pete had the light on her again, I gingerly took her arm and sliced up the sleeve of her sweater. She winced as I did. Knowing her, I suspected it might have had more to do with the designer sweater I was destroying rather than any physical discomfort.

She made a face as I got to the wound so I slowed the rate of my cut but kept on going, taking care to pull up the cloth as much as I could to keep the knife from irritating the wound any further. I was relieved to see that she was right, the bullet had indeed just scraped the side of her arm, leaving a gash that was about an inch or so long but no deeper than a few millimeters.

I let out a sigh. “You’re right Mad, it's not that bad.” I slung my pack off my shoulder and pulled out hand sanitizer and the athletic tape. I wished we hadn’t used all of the Molotov cocktails on the dogs, but we had what we had.  “I can make a crude bandage and disinfect with this.” I held out the small bottle. “I’d recommend we try to cauterize it, but I don’t know if the hand sanitizer will burn at a high enough temperature to do much good.”

Ron dashed forward and kicked Ricky’s squirming body, which had somehow managed to get back to its feet. Bones crunched as Ricky toppled over. Ron noticed that we were watching him. He shrugged. “It was getting too close.” There had been more than a bit of frustration in his attack, but none of us commented on it.

“Don’t let any of that stuff get on you.” I looked back at Madelyn.

She nodded. “Do it. Try to cauterize it.”

“It hurts worse than you think. You sure?”

“I don’t want to become one of the walking dead. Frickin’ do it already, okay?”

Using my knife, I cut off the sleeves of my own shirt. After squeezing out a liberal amount of hand sanitizer onto the fabric, I held it an inch away from the wound. “You ready?”

“Do it quick.” She let out a bitter laugh. “I always did think you would find a way to punish me for breaking up with—”

I cut her off by pushing my lips firmly against hers. “There is no part of me that would ever enjoy seeing you in pain.” I kissed her cheek and brushed back several tears that had formed in her eyes. “I’ll do this as fast as I can.”

Madelyn grunted when I applied the wet cloth but she was able to refrain from screaming. The wound was easy to clean and I was done with one swipe. After that, I poured out a generous amount of the sanitizer and tipped up her arm to keep it level. I lit it before she had a chance to change her mind.

She screamed, causing my insides to contract and feel her pain. It was over fast. I couldn’t tell if we had done any good or not, the wound almost looked the same, but not having anything else we could do, I wrapped the athletic tape around it several times.

AS THE PAIN from the burn subsided and Madelyn opened her eyes I felt relief. I didn’t know if what we’d done had worked, but I knew that we’d done all we could. We just had to hope for the best. She grabbed my hand and held it tight. Our eyes locked and I could tell that the emotions she’d displayed as we’d been on our little mad train ride to hell were real.

She still cared for me.

My heart did a back flip and my stomach felt queasy. Was it just all the crap we were wading through or would it prove to be something real?

“What’s that smell?” Ron asked, breaking into my thoughts and testing the air with his nose as I finished wrapping the tape around Madelyn’s arm. “Smoke?”

As I helped Madelyn to her feet, I too sniffed the air. The smell of Madelyn’s burned flesh made me want to gag, but I firmed my mouth. I didn’t regret what we’d done. When I smelled the smoke, my first thought was for the Containment room. Had Pete mentioned to Claire that was why we had come back?

I swore. “You’re right.” I made sure Madelyn was stable on her feet before jumping over Ricky’s squirming body. “Ron, stay with her.” The smoke was getting stronger now. “Pete, where’s Containment?”

“This way.” Pete darted ahead and went down the hall that Claire had come from, without regard to the fact that Claire might be waiting in ambush.

“Wait!” I yelled out, but it was too late, he was already gone. I slowed down as I too approached the corner and pumped my shotgun, only to realize that in my haste to see to Madelyn I’d forgotten that my weapon was empty. Biting off a curse, I pulled a shell from my bandoleer and pushed it into the chamber.

I glanced around the corner and saw Pete disappear into a cloud of smoke. Taking a deep breath and ducking down, I turned the corner and moved forward. The smoke became thicker as I went and it wasn’t too long before I was squatting in an effort to breathe, more than to avoid any bullets that Claire might blindly send down our way.

The sound of my feet shuffling along on the tile seemed to be all that I could hear. The clomp of Pete’s boots on the tile had disappeared shortly after I’d lost visual contact with him. I couldn’t see further than a few feet in front of me and was continually crouching lower to breathe. Before too long I would be faced with the decision of going to all fours or turning back.

A door opened and an arm snaked out from the smoke inside. I was jolted by the physical contact, turning my shotgun until I realized that it was Pete. The roar of the flames filled the silence that had been in the hall moments before.

“We’re too late.” Pete pulled me into a room that was the source of the fire. I glanced back at the plaque on the door and my heart sank when I saw that it was indeed the Containment room. Everywhere I looked there were flames. A cluster of cubicles in the middle of the room looked as though they had been doused with gasoline and set on fire. A row of shelves along the back had flames sticking to them in an unnatural fashion.

It made me think of a flamethrower demonstration I’d seen on YouTube. Cursing, I crawled forward on two legs and one hand, using the other to hold my shotgun. To the right side was another room. I couldn’t get any closer but I could just see the outlines of flamethrowers and others weapons along the walls. They all had fire unnaturally clinging to them as well.

As Pete crawled up beside me it was difficult not to lash out at him for convincing me to run earlier. He must have read my mind.

“Sorry, Buckshot. I didn’t know.”

There was also a row of canisters along the bottom of the floor that had been sprayed with the napalm as well. A cold sweat swept over me as I took in the scene. Would they be susceptible to the fire?

No, that was the wrong question.

How hot did it have to get before they were damaged? Would they explode when it reached that point?

Part of the ceiling fell down in front of us and we both lurched backward. As one, we made for the door. I was only two feet away when the entryway exploded in flame as if it was spewing from a fire hose.

It had to be Claire with a flamethrower.

Shielding my eyes, I brought up my shotgun and fired blindly in the direction I thought it was coming from. Whether or not I came close to hitting Claire I couldn’t tell. I thought I heard the oomph of the buckshot ripping into its target, but then I wondered if that was just my imagination or hopeful thinking.

I went to load my shotgun but I couldn’t pump another one in. I was afraid it was jammed until I realized I’d only had time to load in one shell. I reached for another shell and was pushing it into the chamber when I felt like I should move.

Call it a premonition or luck or whatever you want, but I didn’t doubt the gut feeling. There was too much smoke for me to be able to see anything outside the door, but I was right in front of the doorway. Perhaps it was just my subconscious telling me that I was in a dangerous position. Flame enveloped the floor behind me as I rolled out of the way.

Pete has scrambled over to the wall and I joined him, loading in another shell as I went. His face was covered with soot. Sweat trickled down it, making lines in the black. The bookshelves behind him were on fire and he was taking care to not get too close.

Another burst from the flamethrower drew both of our attention. She sprayed it in every direction she could reach but wasn’t close to reaching either one of us. I aimed for the door and was about to pull the trigger when I paused and thought about it. She didn’t know where we were in the room. Was it wise to call attention to our position? She could heal, I could not. 

“Is there another way out of here?” I asked.

Pete shook his head. “I have no idea.”

I moved past the bookshelves and thumped on the wall, afraid it was going to be cinderblock. It was the wrong feel for something made of brick, but all the noise in the room made it impossible to tell for certain. Claire sprayed in another round from the flamethrower and I made up my mind.

Using the simple process of elimination she wouldn’t need to hear the sound of my weapon to know where we were. Most of the room was on fire and it was sheer luck she hadn’t managed to hit either one of us yet. 

Backing up as far as I felt was safe, so that the buckshot would have a chance to spread out as much as possible, I fired into the wall. I covered my eyes right afterward with my hand in a weak attempt to protect them from any flying shrapnel, in case I’d just tried to punch a hole through a wall with cinder block on the other side.

When I looked, I was glad to see a basketball sized hole. Claire tried again to light us up with burning napalm as I crossed to the wall and she came within an inch or so of hitting Pete.

I called for him to join me, but there wasn’t a need. He’d already been on his way over. Fresh air poured in as I slung my shotgun onto my shoulder and grabbed the drywall with both hands and ripped off a piece. Pete did the same thing above me. After we had a big hole on this side, I kicked out sheetrock on the other side until we were able to fit through.

It was a night and day difference in the next room. I was able to stand and the air was clean. Pete went to the door and opened it a crack, he quickly shut it.

“She hasn’t moved?” I asked, taking the opportunity to ram a bunch of shotgun shells into my magazine tube. What I would have given for one of those flamethrowers she had just covered in napalm. It would have been nice to have something that could do permanent damage to Claire.

He shook his head after looking through the hole.

I pumped a shell into the chamber. “I give us less than five minutes before she realizes we’re no longer trapped in the room.”

“It could be longer,” Pete said, “I could hardly see within a foot of—”

The door was kicked open and Claire stood on the other side. She wore goggles and her face was covered in a twisted grin that looked more animal than human. “Miss me, boys?”

I raised my shotgun but she was too quick and I was forced to duck behind a desk or be lit up. The napalm mostly spewed over and stuck to the wall behind me, but a little glob fell on my pants. Cursing, I batted at the flames with a book I grabbed from underneath the desk and was relieved to see I was able to pat the fire out. It hadn’t been much, just a drop or two. I’d gotten lucky.

I was getting tired of running.

Taking a deep breath and screwing up all my courage, I lunged up from behind the desk and found myself face to face with Claire. That feral grin of hers widened as she pulled the trigger of her weapon. Nothing happened.

I couldn’t help but smile as I emptied my shotgun into her, firing all five shells in rapid succession while aiming for her joints. She was unable to move by the time I was done.

“You can’t kill me,” she said. “And you won’t stop us.”

I didn’t respond as I jumped over her body and followed Pete outside. I slammed the door shut and we ran back to find Ron and Madelyn.