They never stood a chance, Frank thought.
He was about to continue on when he saw one of them rise from the couch like the woman who appeared from the pile of bodies. A thought occurred to him. “Carson, bandage that leg, those things smell blood.”
“How the hell do you know that?” Carson asked.
“It’s a hunch, but in case I’m right, do as I say, or do I need to kick your ass again?”
When there was no response, Frank glanced around the room at the moving bodies. The blood covered fronts and frothy mouths were from the gas. More moans and more rising bodies. Selena said something incoherent and Carson stayed back to bandage his leg.
“Lightfoot, you ready to do this?” Frank asked the only person he trusted to watch his back.
“Always.”
The two men made quick work of the poisoned workers who moved toward them. Frank used as little ammo as possible since he was running low, and he knew the others had to be as well. He hoped if they could make what they had last until Level 13 that they could restock, though he knew the odds were stacked against them.
Lightfoot took down the last one by kicking it in the stomach. The things abdomen tore open and viscera cascaded out in a black colored fount of liquid. The injury didn’t stop it. Frank was unfazed by the scene having seen so much already, but Selena wasn’t.
“Will someone tell me what the hell is going on before I have a goddamn heart attack?” she asked.
Lightfoot knocked the thing to the ground and crushed its head beneath his foot. Frank made sure there were no more surprises heading toward them before he approached Selena.
“The honest answer is we don’t know. Our goal is to get to Level 15, find a particular person, and then get the hell out of here. As for these.” He motioned to the bodies on the ground. “We have no idea. We ran into the first one as soon as we hit reception, and it’s been a battle ever since.”
Selena looked at the bodies with her expression a cross between interest and disgust. “They’re dead, but still moving. It makes no sense.”
Frank moved toward the door and guided her by the elbow. “I know, but keep that mask on. The only two things I can tell you is whatever made them sick is in the air, and can be transmitted by a bite.”
Frank dropped his hold on her arm when he realized what he was doing. He turned the knob in his hand. “Level 7 is next, it’ll be a bitch, because the layout is all over the place. We’re also likely to run into lots of nasties because of the cafeteria, recreation rooms, and other things they constructed to help people forget they were under tons of dirt.” Frank himself tried to forget that fact.
Lightfoot stepped up to him. “I know we don’t need more things to worry about, but I’m getting low on ammo.”
Frank nodded. “Me too, but I’ll figure something out.” He just didn’t know what yet.
No armory levels, ammunition storage lockers, or anything else was there that might help them. He grunted in frustration. If they listened to him when they drew up the blue prints, there would have been ammunition on every other level in some secret location. The designers and board members at Sunset Inc. agreed it was overkill and nixed the idea.
Some saw Frank as a weapon enthusiast and others saw him as a nut. He didn’t care what others thought of him. He only wanted to work on something that would make a difference, maybe even save a few lives, or take some in particular. He wondered what Selena would think of his ideology, then remembered she was a nurse and aspired to be a doctor, so to her life was sacred. Frank stood for everything she hated. The realization saddened him, but he sucked it up and moved on.
Chapter 13 –
When Arthur arrived at the top of the stairs, the door was almost shut. He caught it before the latch clicked and peered inside. The lights were lit and he made out several bedframes lined against the right wall. A large red cross painted was on one side and a small room in the back with a glass window with Dispensary, etched on it.
With shaking shoulders in the center of the room, Smith held a tablet. Arthur approached her with caution. The floor lacked the smell he’d come to associate with the contaminated. His eyes scanned the area, but found nothing dangerous.
“What is it?” he asked.
She held out the tablet for him in silence. He accepted it with raised eyebrows. Flipping it around, he scrolled through the open document. Names along with ID numbers were in the first two columns. The third column was left empty except for the header, Illness introduced on. Then his breath caught, because at the bottom of the list he noticed his name, Dr. Arthur Covington. In fact, all the names were doctors.
They’d planned to use the people who worked in the silo as test subjects when they ran out? That didn’t make sense. The only logical conclusion was they expected something to happen and prepared this floor as a precaution, or they intended to make something happen. The beds weren’t made up, the floor wasn’t marked as anything on the map, and clear plastic sheeting covered the chairs and medicine shelves in the dispensary.
Arthur moved around and examined the corner where dozens of portable IVs stood collecting dust. Sheets wrapped in plastic filled a cabinet, as did cloth masks and boxes of rubber gloves. The lights flickered just once and somehow he knew he was being told to move on, time was getting short.
“Smith, we need to beat it. I don’t care if you hate me. I did what I thought was right when I took that patch. I just wanted to make sure you got out of here with me.”
She didn’t say anything, but followed him to the exit. As they left, he swore he sensed someone watching him. He didn’t dare look back, in case he was right and came face to face with something.
“According to the map, the next floor is where they keep the water heaters, generators, back-up machinery, and everything else we don’t care about. Not likely to be a lot of contaminated people up there.” He glanced at Smith, but she refused to make eye contact. At least, she wasn’t running from him, he thought, as he raced up the steps to the next level.
“Not to put a damper on this, but I think we lucked out by not having to deal with whatever the security measures were on the last floor. Level 8 is likely going to have a doozy of one since it is the major hub of power for the silo.”
Arthur didn’t mention he felt as if someone was using them as pawns in the world’s most screwed up game ever. They triggered none of the so-called badass security protocols. He suspected there was a reason for it.
“Just shut up, I can’t stand the sound of your voice. Whatever it is, we’ll deal with it and get the hell out of this place. Then I’m going to go find the people at Sunset Inc. and kill them all.”
Arthur kept his mouth closed. The smartest decision he made all day.
Frank rounded the stairs and came face to face with one of the nasties. Instinct caused him to raise his weapon, but Lightfoot’s words about low ammunition echoed in his head. Frank pulled the knife from the sheath strapped to his leg and ran toward the nasty. When he had it pinned between him and the wall, he stuck the blade up to the hilt into one of the eyes.
He twisted it and the thing moved no more. He let it slide to the ground and then he wiped the weapon on the body before he stuck it back in its sheath. “Okay, from now on, if you find yourself able to take one out without using a gun, do it.” Frank continued down the stairs.
Level 7 beckoned them with an open door and a few stragglers who perked up as Frank and his group neared. They moved in unison and moaned; a noise Frank was growing to detest. Arms held high as if to hug their victims, the nasties came at them, a giant wall of death.