A New World 10 - Storm (32 page)

“Fine! But they go with me. Assign two to remain and keep your team close. I’m going to check on the entry doors,” I say, storming off.

Before reaching the gathered teams, I turn over my shoulder. “And Lynn, when the move is completed, I’m finished with this leadership thing.”

She nods, and I continue.

I’m not angry with her, exactly; it’s the whole fucking situation. The easy decision is to leave them behind when entering structures. However, that may be doing them a disservice in the long run. I don’t like any choice I have to make regarding Robert and Bri. It’s not so much that there is a right answer, but that each option is wrong in my mind. Stopping for a moment, I take a deep breath to steady my anger and focus on what’s ahead.

“Robert, Bri, you’re with me,” I say, approaching the others.

I nod to Gonzalez and she teams up with Bri. Robert folds beside me. Even though I may have tamped down the anger, I still feel my pulse racing with tension. With the team gathered, we walk to the door, with Lynn and her team, minus two, following.

Walking under the covered entryway, I approach the glass-covered entry. A sign over the doors states that this is the “Giraffe Entrance.” With a tug on the door, it easily swings open. Through a secondary set of doors, we step into a foyer. Radiant light from the windows illuminates the interior, although the overhanging colonnade blocks out any direct daylight. To the left sits a bank of reception desks. The right opens into a large waiting room with a set of stairs that circle upward, disappearing into darkness. Looking back at Jan, who is surrounded by Black Team, I point to the steps. She nods.

I turn to Robert. “You stay close.”

“Okay, Dad,” he replies.

We start upward, the light fading behind. The carpeted stairs keep our steps silent. We are surrounded by the lingering smell of smoke. I walk slowly, with my M-4 aimed ahead. Robert shadows me directly behind. The stairs are open to the second floor. I hear nothing above: No sound of movement, breathing or otherwise.

The steps circle one hundred and eighty degrees so that we arrive in a small foyer facing the front of the building. Two hallways branch, one headed across the front of the building and the other leading farther into the interior. Closed doors line both halls. I pause, listening. Nothing. No hum of building equipment. No air blowing from ducts in the ceiling. It’s completely silent. Nodding to Robert, we take the hall that leads farther in.

It’s a short corridor that ends in a set of double doors. The edges are outlined with light. Confused, I pause and have Jan come forward.

“What’s behind those doors?” I whisper.

“The hospital proper. These are just offices,” she replies.

“So, why is there light showing? I’m guessing that we are about to enter the four-story section, so it can’t be from a skylight?”

“No, all of the patient rooms are glassed in, so I think that’s sunlight you’re seeing?”

“Well, I’ll be damned,” I mumble, thinking this might be easier than I thought.

That might explain why we didn’t see any night runners on the video
, I think, resuming our cautious approach toward the doors.

I inch one of the doors open, almost blinded by the light streaming in. I ease the door open further and slip inside, the carpet giving way to linoleum. The hallway past the doors connects with two others to the left and right that lead farther in. After consulting with Jan, we turn to the right.

The corridor is lit by ambient light entering from the patient rooms. They are all fully glass-enclosed, with etchings of trees, squirrels, birds, and leaves. Some have butterflies in place of birds. The sliding doors opening into patient rooms are covered the same. Passing the first patient room, I see that it’s richly decorated, with a modern-looking hospital bed, and several instruments against the wall next to the bed. The second room is much the same, except the instruments are strewn across the floor.

The hallway bends in a zig-zag fashion to accommodate the shape of the building. The next few patient rooms are a total mess. As I pass, I notice several small figures lying on a stained floor. In a couple of them, there are only remnants of bodies or torn and stained hospital gowns. Feeling ill at the sight, I stop looking into the rooms. The light assures me that there aren’t any night runners in them.

As we make our way along, several exits lead into darkened interior hallways. Each of the wall corners are rounded and house nurses’ stations. I look behind one to find a figure on the floor, clad in the torn remains of scrubs. Dried blood covers the floor and is splattered on the walls. Staring at the sight, I’m confused. The building entrances and perimeter didn’t show any evidence of night runners, but the bodies and the other evidence points to the fact that we may not be alone. I’m not sure how they are getting in and out of the building.

I peel away an escape route plan taped to one of the walls. Sending Red Team to the next intersection of hallways, I motion Jan forward.

“Where is the lab?” I ask.

She studies the map, and points to a large room in the interior.

Taking the map, I advance to the next hall, where Red Team is standing guard. Looking down the corridor, I see that it intersects other hallways. The ambient light doesn’t reach far, leaving the corridors and rooms beyond in a deep gloom. The interior halls will be in the dark.

“Looks like this won’t be the walk in the park it seemed,” I state to Lynn.

“What do you think?” she asks.

“I don’t know. We’ll have to assume that we aren’t alone. We have a safe corridor along the outer halls, but who knows what we’ll face in the darkened hallways.”

“Do you think the equipment is worth the risk?” Lynn asks.

“I have no idea. Seems that is happening more frequently. I mean, what if we get her equipment and she finds an answer to the night runners? If she does, then yes, it’s worth almost any risk. However, I sadly lack the ability to see into the future. Sitting here staring at darkened halls, and knowing how much I love hospitals, I would say we turn around. But, it’s about the chance, isn’t it? If we don’t go, then there is zero chance,” I comment.

“Are you having a nice conversation with yourself?”

“No, not really,” I answer.

I stand at the intersection, pondering. It seems that I always knew what to do in the past, was able to see the right choice. I momentarily wonder if the move hasn’t altered my ability to choose clearly. I may be thinking too far ahead, to finding a truly safe haven in the midst of all this chaos. And with that looming possibility, I may be taking the easy route instead of the right one. If that is truly the case, then I’m in no condition to be making decisions. I’ve second-guessed decisions in the past, but not my whole reasoning ability.

Shit, even these thoughts bring more doubts
.

Taking a deep breath, I shake my head. “Okay, fuck it. We’re going in. Red Team, you’re at the next intersection covering our six. Lynn, you’re with me. Have Black Team cover Jan like a blanket.”

At the next intersection of hallways, Red Team covers the corners. Although there is a faint amount of illumination, the area is still cast in a deep gloom. There may be enough residual light to keep the night runners away from this position. Only a couple of feet into each branching corridor, the light ends completely, leaving only darkness.

Lynn and I turn the corner. Assuring that my carbine is set to auto, I raise it and creep into the hall leading to the lab. I sidle near the wall, stepping silently. Slowly, I make my way down the hallway, Lynn keeping pace on the opposite wall. My heart feels like it’s in my throat and I slow my breathing to calm my heart rate. Once again, I find myself snaking down a hospital hallway. The air within is stuffy and cold.

All of the doors along the hall are closed. I pause at the first one, listening. Reaching down, I slowly push on the handle. It’s unlocked. I’m not sure that night runners have mastered the art of doors, but I’m not chancing it. It would be my luck that I run into a pack that can saunter in and out of them with nary a thought. After all, they must be entering and exiting the building somehow. That is, if they are leaving at all. Perhaps they are feasting on the food within the hospital. Of course, the evidence I’ve seen could be from weeks ago.

I nod at Lynn, open the door, and step silently into the room. I’m not sure what the room is used for, as curtains are pulled in places. No shrieks or sudden movements accompany my entry. I exit and slowly close the door. Lynn checks a door on her side with the same result; there’s no one inside. We creep down the corridor, checking the rooms but never leaving the doorways. Black Team follows quietly behind.

Reaching the doors that Jan indicated as housing the lab, Lynn and I stack against the wall. It would really suck if night runners were inside and we had to start shooting. Knowing my day, I would put a round into every piece of equipment she needed. Of course, if there are truly night runners within, we’ll just turn and run for the light.

We check the door and verify that it’s unlocked. On a nod from me, Lynn swings the door open and I dart in. The room is large, with long counters and stations along the walls and in the center. I check the dead corner as I make my way along the right hand wall. Lynn follows, sweeping left. We pause half way down. There’s nothing inside except beakers, vials, and equipment. We head back to the entrance and motion Black Team forward.

“The room is clear. This has to be done quietly. Don’t disturb anything, and gather the equipment Jan indicates,” Lynn tells them.

They enter. As Jan passes, I grab her arm. “Do this quickly?”

She nods and enters with the rest of the team. Lynn and I station ourselves in the corridor. She holds the door open and we both cover farther down the hallway. Even though I’m on the opposite side of the hall, I still hear very faint whispering coming from inside the room. Other faint sounds emit as they gather equipment.

Fucking keep it down
, I think, hoping there aren’t any night runners nearby that can hear it as well.

A little way down is another intersection of hallways. For some reason, the ambient light that reaches the intersection behind us doesn’t reach there. It could be that the hall doesn’t reach the outer corridor. Minutes pass that seem like hours. I hear the clang of something metallic come from within the room. It’s a soft sound and not very loud, but to my ears, it sounds like a train crashing into a semi. Lynn turns her head sharply to the interior. Shrieks erupt, coming from a side hallway; they sound close.

Fuck, that doesn’t sound like a night runner shriek, that’s more like a kid screaming
, I think, tightening and pulling my M-4 tight.

“Lynn, get Jan and the equipment out, now!” I sharply whisper. “Head for Red Team and get to the outer corridor where there’s light. I have our six.”

Lynn calls inside, softly yet sharply. Black Team exits, surrounding Jan, who is pushing a steel cart loaded with gear.

What the fuck?!

“Go, go, go.”

As they quickly retreat down the corridor, I rise and being backpedaling. Lynn stays with me.

“Go,” I say, rising. She shakes her head.

“Dammit,” I mutter.

Screams fill the interior, echoing down the hallways. Amongst the din, I hear feet slapping on the linoleum. As I step backward, I have my carbine aimed near the corner where the night runners should appear. My
aimpoint
is aimed where their heads should be. They round the bend in a hurry. As they come into sight, my reticle is above their heads. I lower my barrel a touch and begin squeezing the trigger. Their ghostly pale faces register.

Fuck, they’re kids
.

There are six of them, all dressed in torn and deeply stained hospital gowns, looking to be about ten or twelve years old. I feel sick to my stomach as I watch, unable to pull the trigger as they streak down the hall. I am backing up as fast as I can, but they are rapidly closing. For a split second, I tightly shut my eyes.

Fuck this…dammit!

Placing my glowing crosshair on the nearest one, I fire, almost point blank. The child’s head snaps to the side as my bullets strike. Blood sprays from the multiple impacts. With feet flipping into the air, its head hits the hard floor with a whack. Strobes fill the scream-filled hallway. More kids fall to the ground under the torrent of rounds fired by Lynn and me. In seconds, six small figures lie bleeding in the hallway. Another shriek rises and a larger night runner female, dressed in scrubs, appears at the intersection. Upon spotting the young ones down, she pauses, then screams like I’ve never heard a night runner shriek. Other smaller figures appear behind her.

Screw this
, I think. Lynn and I turn and run.

Racing down the darkened hall, with shrieks sounding behind, I’m reminded of a similar chase with Lynn. This time though, friends await at hallway intersections. Black Team is nowhere in sight. I yell to Red Team to pack up and go. Rounding the corner, hard on the heels of Gonzalez and company, we reach the full light. Behind, the night runners continue shrieking in the darkness.

I feel incredibly sick. The sight of those small faces, pale or not, will haunt me to the end of my days. My legs feel weak and I sink to my knees.