ARES Virus: Arctic Storm (6 page)

Bunker, Pineville University

September 3

Different options crowd Brown’s mind; some discarded, others saved. Giving up on continued sleep, he impatiently tosses his cover aside and swings his legs over the side of the cot. The vast concrete chamber is dimly lit with most of the lights having been turned off in order to facilitate sleep. With a yawn, he looks at his watch, noting that dawn is drawing near. He’s anxious to be away, knowing that the military cogs haven’t been sleeping. He’s quite sure that actions have been taken to snap a cordon into place, the advance of which could already be there. It’s time to leave before the shit gets real.

Looking at the sleeping forms in the other cots, he sighs. It won’t be any easier toting around a couple of college students, cadet officers or not. They just don’t have the experience needed to hold their own in this kind of situation, one in which they are surrounded and everyone has to be considered an enemy. He’s not sure that even he has the capability to survive something like this. The snores from the cadets echo throughout the vast room. Brown is faintly surprised that the ones emanating from Clarke are significantly louder and deeper than the soft snores coming from Hayward.

“Okay, you sloths. Time to rise and shine,” Brown loudly states.

Snorts follow the almost peaceful snoring as the cadets suddenly wake out of their deep sleep.

“What time is it?” Hayward asks, rubbing his eyes.

Clarke raises her head, looks around, and sinks back to her cot with a groan.

“It’s time to go,” Brown replies, rising. “Do whatever morning things you need to, and don’t dawdle around trying to look pretty.”

“I don’t wear makeup, Sergeant,” Clarke responds.

“I wasn’t talking about you, Clarke.”

Hayward sputters in mid-gulp, sending some of the water he was drinking splashing to the floor.

“First time drinking, son? Don’t worry, with practice, you’ll get better at it,” Brown comments.

With packs shouldered, the three make their way up the stairs. Holding his sidearm at the ready, Brown slowly pushes the outer door open, the squeal of the metal hinges sounding unnaturally loud. Expecting to hear screeches from any infected loitering in the area, he is met only by silence. Fully opening the door, he steps outside.

Pre-sunrise light bathes the campus in a bluish tint, the eastern horizon hinting at the sun’s imminent arrival. On edge and with nerves taut, Brown glances around the surrounding area. There’s nothing, and better yet, no one in sight. Some of the tension leaves in the absence of screaming hordes of infected pounding toward them. However, as he wonders exactly where they might be, the anxiety increases again. He doesn’t have any false ideas that the situation has been handled, not with the speed it spread.

“So, do you think it’s over, Sarge?” Hayward asks.

“I wouldn’t go getting any fancy ideas about that. This thing spread outward quickly, so we may still be sitting in the eye of the storm. What I imagine is that a cordon will be set around the town and that we need to be on the other side of it before it closes. It won’t be good for anything left inside of it once it’s in place,” Brown replies.

“How are we going to do that?” Clarke questions.

“Very carefully. As before, keep close and quiet.”

“Are we going to try and find a vehicle like before?” Hayward asks.

“We’re heading that way. Let’s just see what we see when we get there,” Brown answers.

“I don’t mean to sound dumb, but can’t we find one that works and race through? We’d be out quickly,” Hayward says.

“Let’s just see what we see.”

“There’s the possibility that this has run its course and all we have to do is make our way out to friendly forces,” Hayward states.

“Son, if this had run its course, the place would be crawling with hazmat suits. So no, it isn’t over by a longshot, and it’s dangerous to think that way,” Brown responds. “So, let’s get this party started. Stay together, be quiet, keep your shit together, and your minds right.”

Glancing down at his handgun, Brown is reminded once again of how little firepower he has and the need to find something better. He wants either something quieter or with more firepower. Or both. As it stands, he’s stuck with an uncomfortable medium. The noise from any gunshot will attract undesirables, and he doesn’t have enough ammo to fend off more than a handful.

Given the population of the city, he’s sure they won’t be able to slink through it without some kind of encounter, especially once they reach the outer limits of the spread. In the back of his mind, bothering him like an incessant mosquito, is the military response that he’s sure is coming. They need to be out before that begins. So, there is the need to be quick, yet also quiet and cautious—mutually exclusive ideas.

The idea surfaces to find weapons of some sort for the cadets. Remembering the flailing about they exhibited in the armory, he pushes that aside, as they’re likely to be more dangerous to themselves than to anyone attacking them. If they find something along the way, fine, but he isn’t going out of his way for it.

The shortest way out of the city is toward the parking lot they retreated from the day before. Staying close to the building walls, they slowly inch along. Coming to walkways between the structures, they halt and check the length of the paths before rushing across to repeat the process at the next one.

The fact that they don’t see any infected at each of the crossings is both a relief and a source of anxiety. Brown knows they are out there, but isn’t sure if he would rather verify their whereabouts or continue worrying about where they might be. It’s like every horror movie he’s ever seen.

Maybe we should have just stayed in the bunker
, Brown thinks, peeking around yet another corner.

Brown’s heart stops for a split second, then rebounds with a rush, flooding his system with adrenaline. Across from a grass-lined concrete sidewalk, he spots several people standing behind the glass of one of the entrance doors. Looking closer, he realizes that these are the ones they had run from yesterday. Jammed through the handles of the doors is the wooden pole of the guidon he placed. Behind the glass, the infected stand motionless.

I guess they didn’t figure out how buildings work
, Brown thinks.
Peculiar, though. They’re behaving just like the first group we ran into
.

Staring closer at the packed group, Brown comes to the conclusion that they are in a trance of some kind. Their attention doesn’t appear to be focused on anything in particular, or really on anything at all.

Maybe it’s the way they rest, or perhaps a side effect of the agent
, Brown ponders.
Whatever it might be, we may be able to use it, especially if they aren’t out actively seeking others
.

Backing away from the corner, Brown directs the group around a couple of buildings to cross at a place away from the doorway. The trapped infected may not be able to get to them, but he doesn’t want to risk alerting them, which would draw others that might be in the area to their screams.

Circumnavigating the infected, and with the sun making its first appearance, they arrive at the parking lot. Cars are still massed together where their drivers all attempted to exit the lot at the same time. Standing among the chaos are infected, all in apparent stasis. Hiding within the bushes and trees encircling the lot, Brown, Hayward, and Clarke gaze outward. Brown’s eyes come to rest on the still form of Mendez, his body lying a short distance away from the tangle of vehicles. A large stain darkens the pavement around his downturned face.

A pity
, Brown thinks.
But, it could have been much worse
.

“I guess that verifies that this hasn’t run its course, huh?” Clarke whispers.

“I suppose it does,” Brown chuckles.

The infected standing within the lot are all panting as if they’ve run great distances, but have their heads hanging. None are looking around, and like those within the building, they aren’t focused on anything. Again, Brown contemplates whether this is an effect of the agent—that if there isn’t anything drawing their attention, they go into this kind of state, perhaps conserving energy until something materializes.

Faint at first, the sound of a helicopter draws Brown’s attention. Gazing skyward, he searches for it through breaks in the branches overhead. He isn’t the only one to notice. With the sound growing louder, the infected in the parking lot grow more active. Lifting their heads, seemingly as one, they gaze toward the noise.

Soon, a helicopter sweeps into view, silhouetted against the early morning sky, heading directly for the campus. All eyes, infected and survivor alike, follow the path of the airborne vehicle. The beat of the rotors grows louder, each turn sounding as though they’re pounding the air into submission.

Reaching the parking lot, the helicopter slows and goes into a hover. Downwash from the rotors sweeps through the trees and blows debris in the lot to the side. The infected become more active, many running from side to side, while others stretch as if actually trying to reach the hovering bird. Some climb on top of the vehicles to get closer. Brown has a momentary thought of running into the open to draw the crew’s attention. However, with the infected becoming much more active, and given his recent thoughts, he’s hesitant to make his presence known.

Besides, they’ll probably just think that we’re infected as well
.

The helicopter’s nose descends slightly and it begins quickly moving out of the area. The infected in the lot pause for a moment as the chopper moves out of sight, then they all begin racing after it; their screams at first deafening, then fading as they speed away. Before long, the lot is clear. In the distance, other helicopters can be heard, and along with them, other screams. The city, moments before filled with infected standing as if paralyzed, comes alive.

Duly noted
, Brown thinks
. Noise wakens them and movement draws them away
.

“Well, that was easy,” Clarke states, referring to the now cleared lot.

“That good thing is only temporary. Sure it drew them away, but it also drew them out of whatever stupor they were in. With overflights, they’ll be more active. I would have preferred them half asleep,” Brown replies.

Both Hayward and Clarke are silent as they consider the ramifications. Whereas they could have perhaps skirted through inactive infected, they’ll now have to deal with fully alert ones. The only hope is that they’ll be drawn out of the area, and that the helicopters now overflying the city don’t lead any back to them.

“Okay, you two slackers. Now isn’t the time to go into your own damn stupor,” Brown says, noticing the two cadets lost in their thoughts. “It’s time to move. That overflight was our cue, in more ways than one. Not only will it wake the infected, but it means that we have to get clear of this area, and pronto. They moved faster than I thought. The cordon is being set up, if they aren’t finished already. While we seem to have the lot to ourselves, let’s see if these wannabes masquerading as college kids left some fuel in the tanks.”

“So, we’re taking a vehicle?” Hayward asks.

“Maybe. Let’s see if we even have that possibility. Check the vehicles toward the entrance to see if there’s any fuel left. Be on the lookout for anything inside the cars that we might be able to use.”

“They may not even have the keys in them, so we should check only those that have keys in the ignition,” Hayward states.

“Think on that one for a sec, bright eyes,” Brown comments.

“What do you mean? There’s no use checking for fuel if they don’t have keys in them. We can move through them quicker by eliminating the cars that don’t have them.”

“And, how do you think those vehicles got to the position they’re in…flew? Magic perhaps? If they’re by the entrance, they were driven there, which implies by that very nature that they have keys in them.”

“Wouldn’t that also mean they were also idling and if they’re not running, then they’re out of fuel?” Clarke queries.

“Yes, but there’s a chance that whoever was driving turned the ignition off before trying to escape,” Brown answers.

“Oh, okay. True enough. So, what kind of things should we be looking for?

“Like I said, anything interesting.”

“You mean like weapons?”

“That would be a bonus. Now, let’s be quick about this and get on our way. The infected may be busy playing chase the helicopters, but they could easily circle around and lead them back to us.”

They leave the bushes and stride quickly across the lot, heading toward the vehicles closest to the entrance. Distant screams drift on the morning air, but none of them are near or coming closer. There is no sight or sound of the helicopters that transited the area only moments prior. Due to the infection rate, very few bodies lie within the parking lot. Those they do find are torn apart beyond recognition.

Approaching the first car, situated in a position where it could be driven immediately out of the lot, Brown opens the door. There isn’t an interior light or chime that greets him, so he shuts the door without looking further. It’s as he feared. There’s a great chance that, in the chaos that ensued, he doubts that anyone fleeing would have taken the time to shut off their cars, leaving the vehicles to run out of gas and drain the batteries.