Dead Pulse (7 page)

A cool breeze filled the deserted city streets. The buildings dwarfed the platoon armed with silencer side arms and M-240 machine guns. House, and his second officer Finn, lead the platoon deep into the city of the dead.

Finn trod carefully, “Can I speak freely, Sir?” House nodded his consent to his fellow officer and oldest friend. “This is the Tarvos all over again, one bull-crap mission too far, our orders, go to a tower block in the middle of this city to rescue some politician that no one even cares about; how many friends must we lose for one suit?”

“
Personally...” he sniffed, he was coming down with a cold. “ I agree with you, but Huck it’s the job we’ve chosen, this is what we do.”

House’s bulky mass shivered as his
fever sweat caught the cool breeze. With a glancing look, one dark brown eye looked Finn up and down. House was worried, realising Finn had changed somehow these last few days, shaken and stirred like a vodka martini.

Finn lowered his gun, “Yeah, but that was before, when the dead stayed dead, it freaks me out House, sir, I can’t sleep, I can’
t eat. My daughter coming back crawls under my skin, it haunts me, I close my eyes and she’s there. I don’t know what’s real anymore.”

House tapped Finn’s helmet with his hand. “The job Finn is the job.
The mission is real. Stay alert.”

House raised his gun to Finns head. Finn froze, his eyes wide and fearful, all his training forgotten, he was a rabbit caught in House’s headlights.
House is going to kill me!
He panicked. House let off a shot. Finns knees wavered, as he was slow to realise that House had executed one of the walking empty souls that ambled nearby and not shot at him. The grey, drained corpse collapsed on its self like a concertina. Finn rested his hands on his knees, relieved and unable to speak. House continued to walk on as Finn drawing deep breaths managed to compose himself, as his fellow soldiers helped him along avoiding the pile of skin, bone, and tattered clothes that lay on the floor.

No amount of today’s science could determine why the dead had risen and studies could not explain why they did not stay dead. The dead were in search of nourishment required to keep those small parts, the core of the brain and nerve system powered and in some cases regenerated. Many of the dead had organs missing:
heart; lungs; uterus; liver; kidney; pancreas and stomach. All of the dead that could be mobile were mobile. With an amplified unexplained electric surge even the ancient bodies buried in ice on mountains began to stir in their glassy graves. Non-embalmed Mummies, bodies in funeral homes, hospital morgues all regained some form of life. Some of the dead were without eyes, some without mouths, and others with noses missing. The dead seemed to have a new sense that enabled them to seek out the living, something that modern science could not explain but still the cities of the dead stirred to life once more.

A clock towers’ chime broke the night’s silence, signalling dinnertime. In the light drizzle, caught by some flickering streetlights, muffled shots broke out in all directions. The undead heavily outnumbered the platoons. Like a shark replacing its teeth, for every dead person that was gunned down another seemed to appear in its place, the dead looked as if they were unstoppable.

As hordes of the dead closed in, hand-to-hand combat become ineffective and before long, the soldiers were screaming out in pain as their camouflage suits were bitten into, their flesh and arteries torn. Muffled sounds of the dead were drowned out by the piercing cries of the dying men.

One officer took the liberty of ending his and his fellow soldiers’ lives by shooting at an overturned multi car transporter. It contained many of the latest models of sport cars at one time destined to be driven, but now with nowhere to go it seemed the most appropriate use for the expensive machines. As the fuel tanks of the cars began to explode the cars parked on the street were torn apart in turn. The remaining six soldiers including House and Finn were blown off balance by the blasts, as wheels, glass and metal scattered in the warming air. The screams silenced as the debris settled on the street.

House found himsel
f embedded in an abandoned car and he removed his light body armour to release himself. Hearing cries of pain, he looked across the street to see burning men walked blindly, their clothes and flesh awash with flames. It was difficult to distinguish the dead smouldering corpses from his men; House had lost friends throughout the years, but not so many in such a short time.

Parish, stood injured with his back to Finn. Finn blinded in one eye by a deep gash across his face, walked towards Parish to assist him. As Finn turned his fellow soldier around, the soldier lunged forwards attacking him. Finn leaped back, he reached for his gun but it had been lost in the blast. Finn kicked Parish backwards impaling him on some twisted metal debris. The soldier tried to grasp and grab Finn with his gnarled hands. House appearing behind Finn ended Parish’s’ hunger with a few shots to the head and his body slid further down the protruding scorched metal. House’s arm ached, shaking his limbs loose, he bent down and scooped up a handgun from the floor and slapped it in Finn’s hand.

“This is a rescue mission? It looks like we’re the ones needing rescuing, and no air support?” babbled Finn.

“This person better be worth it. Finn keep it together,” spat House, wiping blood from his mouth with the back of his hand.

They both picked off the remaining dead in the surrounding area as they made their way to the lobby of the thirties style hotel; their mission’s destination.

House and Finn jammed the revolving glass doors
closed, their footsteps echoed as they dashed across the hotels lavishly decorated lobby. The dead slammed their bodies noisily against the glass behind them.

The muffled sounds of moaning and thumps could be heard as far as the as the lift area and the emergency stairwell. With only the backup generator lights and small mounted lights on their guns, House and Finn ascended the emergency stairs.

Outside the hotel what remained of a once white, fast food van continued to burn in the street fires, bottles of gas bursting violently, obliterating what remained of the van.

House and Finn felt the blast as they approached the first floor of the hotel. The two men could unmistakably hear the shattering and fracturing of glass and knew in an instant that the doors and windows of the hotel had given out.

The hoards of their zombiefied pursuers entered the building shuffling and dragging their feet across the marble floor.

“Stop right there! Nobody move!” A large bearded man stood in a black and white uniform at the top of the stairs with a carbon steel barrel pointed at the two soldiers. “You let them in, this is my building and you let them in! You stupid mother...” he yelled.

“Calm down, lower the i-Bolt!” Finn interrupted bluntly, “In two minutes your dead granddaddy is going to be chewing on us, now let us pass!” he yelled pointing back down the stairs.

The man, sweating and shaking, rested his finger on the trigger and shot Finn in the shoulder, making him fall backwards down several step. House let off four shots sending the bearded man through the air, his torn white shirt turned red as he hit the metal floor.

“Where are these fools getting their guns? You okay dude?” asked House, staring at the empty spot where the porter once stood.

“Cut face, shot shoulder, I'll live for now but our party guests have arrived, move!”

Finn raised his voice, as he brushed past House on the stairs.

The living dead, in all different stages of decomposition filled the stairwell of the hotel. Ravenous, a number of
them stopped and chewed on the dead bearded man, their teeth chattered as they spilled his intestines down the stairs. Soon the devoured porter sat up then followed his dead brood after the two soldiers who were making their way through the building.

House and Finn stood on the stairwell in front of a blood stained metal door. A blonde agent in a black soiled suit was slumped dead against it, her own life taken with her revolver. Finn knelt down and took a note from here hand, her suicide note signed
Emmanuelle Judge.
‘Judge Dead’
, he thought.

With his gun in one hand, Finn held an Iridium satellite phone to his ear, surprised it still worked.

“I can’t get hold of the team. Why is there a coded lock?” Finn panted as he tried the door.

Finn fired his gun at the menacing dead who were dangerously closing in.

“It's the Penthouse. I can't think, I can't remember the brief, I can't remember the door code!” House snatched the phone from Finn.

“Major
, control, where the hell are you!” he shouted down the phone.

“Blow it open!” Finn shouted. “Those party crashers are nearly here!”

“I got it... one, three...” mumbled House, he typed frantically on a mounted keypad next to the door. “It isn’t working, they've changed the code or the Intel' is incorrect,” House shouted as he punched at the door.

Finn yelled instructions down the phone in between House’s bangs and echoing shots.

“We need a chopper - roof extraction point ASAP, ac2 extraction mission complete, person acquired,” lied Finn, “Immediate evac’, over.”

The dead were advancing up the stairs and were nearly upon the two men.

House shot his way through the door lock, yanking the metal door open he kicked open the wooden inner door. They both began to barricade the door behind them as best as they could. House wedged a sideboard and chairs into the expensive door.

Finn walked through a darkened corridor decorated with elaborate patterned wallpaper. Numerous paintings were displayed from the white picture rails. The lavish corridor opened up into a spacious, open plan, airy Penthouse. As Finn took in the huge square space of the red-carpeted room, House reinforced the door as securely as possible.

The open plan room was empty and silent. Situated to the left were leather chairs. Mounted on the wall was a hulking TV screen that eerily displayed static. Nearby a computer screen flickered with an aquarium screensaver, ‘Mozart's Requiem’ subtly played through several speakers. Finn, stinking of smoke, thought about how his boots were dirtying the pristine red carpet. As he quietly crossed the room, his attention was drawn to the large sunken Jacuzzi to the right side of the room.

The partially glazed roof and floor to ceiling windows hung over him. He glanced out at the smoking city before standing over the sunken hot tub and lowering his gun. A naked woman lay in the bath, her wrists gaped open, her long hair and the water was as red as the crimson carpet.

“Come in Seed Two,” Finn jumped, startled at the satellite communication phones speaker. House joined Finn looking over his shoulder.

“It’s not going to hold soldier,” House shook his head. “Target is dead, a shame and waste.”

“Roof extraction point, ac2 extraction and mission complete,” Finn gave a sigh.

“Ac2 extraction code word, over,” crackled a calm voice.

“Target dead, over,” confirmed Finn as he leaned over the familiar looking woman, casting a sorrowful glance at her wounds, the music seemed to get louder, “Holy shit House, it’s the Vice President, Crafton, Sue Crafton.”

The naked woman’s green eyes suddenly snapped open. She leaped up biting into Finns neck, grinding her teeth as blood pumped from Finns flapping skin.

Swiftly, House shot the naked woman. Hunched and holding his latest wound Finn looked up to House raising his hand in submission. Before Finn could speak, House shot, the bullet went straight though his hand, eye then lodged in his brain. The projectile force sent his long-time friend following the once Vice President splashing into the bloodied cold water.

“Damn you!” He spat at the dead woman, “you were the last hope.”

House could hear the dead breaking through the door; he retrieved the phone from Finns corpse and headed towards the black metal fire escape that lead to the roof. Another coded door stood in his way. House managed to kick it open and desperately he made his way onto the roof, the cool air hitting him. A helicopter hovered between the skyscrapers in the distance.

It was only House, the sky and the phone. House took in his surroundings. He yelled
down the phone’s receiver. “NO TIME FOR CODE WORDS AND FUCKING ACRONYMS! Control, Hardy, Major!”

“Mi
ssion failed code not recovered.”

House listened hard to the voice
not sure if it was Hardy as it was muffled by the shuffling dead as they stumbled onto the roof.

“The extraction has been compromised,” stated the voice.

“Major, I know you’re listening, after all we've been through Major? Marshal, Frank?”

The phone was silent. The gathering remorseless-eating-machines grouped closer to House. House was out of bullets, out of time and out of luck. He looked up at the oncoming helicopter. House gripped the phone tightly. House knew, as Frank knew,
seventy-seven was lost with her last breath.

“Frank, I know you can hear me. I hope you can still hear me. Are you on that chopper? I did this for my country. Just do me two things, don’t
let Hardy report it happened like this and tell my wife I love her,” looked intently at the hovering helicopter.