Jurassic Dead (16 page)

“And what is that?” Xander hefted the gun, tensing his fingers on the trigger as if he wished he could shoot DeKirk through the screen.

“You missed the following extrapolation: that this virus, if it could be modified, could offer certain…benefits.”

“Modified how?”

“To keep all the good bits like strength and sensory improvement, speed and longevity—if not downright immortality. Imagine if you could block the parasite’s ability to take over the brain stem, to overcome the host’s consciousness. If someone…if
I
could be transformed, and yet still be…”

“In control…” Xander whispered it. “All the benefits of being a zombie—the near indestructibility—without the drawbacks—the mindlessness and the rotting flesh.”

“
Yes.
” DeKirk leaned back. “I intend to become—as you said yourself Miss Winters...a God.”

She shook her head and glared at him. “Yeah, well God or not, a bullet to your head will still put you down.  Come out here for a little stay on your Zombie Island Retreat, we’ll see how immortal you are.” She was stalling, hoping to buy them a way out. “And oh, I got a message off on the ship. They’re coming for you.”

DeKirk laughed. “I’m sorry, but I know you didn’t, and even had you managed it, help wouldn’t come in time. Now, goodbye Xander. Goodbye Alex and Veronica. I expect to see you again, but not…quite in your same senses.”

DeKirk’s dark laughter filled the room until he killed the connection.

32.

Alex moved closer to Xander. “Your boss is a lunatic, you realize.”

“I’m aware of that fact,” Xander said. “Had my suspicions before, but really, what geniuses aren’t a little insane?”

“Um… Einstein?”

“Shut up,” Veronica hissed. “What are you doing?” The screens had returned to their surveillance mode—revealing swarms of zombies running headlong toward the facility, lured by the open doors. The hallways were filling with undead, moving with deliberate speed, as if sniffing them out, eager to explore new territory.

“We don’t have much time,” she said, “either shoot us or figure something out.”

“I’d actually prefer getting shot,” Alex said, watching the horde converge from various entrance points, seeing them running up stairs, drooling, snapping at each other, yet moving with a singular purpose, like a colony of ants.

Xander’s screen was different—showing scrolling lines of code on one side, offset against facility schematics on the other. “It may still come to that but for now, I need you. We need each other.”

“Afraid you’d say that,” Veronica said. “I won’t—”

“Whatever you’re doing,” Alex interrupted, “please do it fast, or like I said, shoot us, ‘cuz the other option is we open that door and run for it.”

“Never make it, kid. Not without… Here, got it!” He pointed at the screen, traced a line from one central-looking rounded room, down one section, a right then a left to a door. He hefted the gun. “Okay, munitions room one floor down, a right and a left.”

“Munitions…”

“Yeah,” Xander said, “and I know, I’m going to have to trust you won’t blow a hole in my back.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Veronica said, and then added: “I’d shoot you in the leg and let the zombies eat you piece by piece.”

“Lovely,” Xander said, running to the door. He opened it and peeked outside. Alex could hear the trampling of feet coming from the hall to the left.

Xander pushed out into the hall and aimed toward the noise. “I’ll slow them down. You run for the exit sign, then into the stairwell and down. It should be clear. I’ll be right behind you.”

Alex didn’t need to be told twice. He ran, with Veronica at his side. Gunshots roared at their backs, and they flinched, fully expecting a double-cross.

Every step closer and still no bullets in their spines, Alex skidded to a stop at the door. More snarling and rapidly thumping feet came from this direction. “Oh shit, Xander?”

Veronica pushed past him and opened the exit door. “Come on!”

A lab-coat wearing zombie hurtled around the far corner, bounced off a wall and came tearing at Alex, waving its arms frantically and snapping its jaws—then its head exploded in a microburst of gunfire.

Xander ran past him into the stairwell, shouting back. “Thought the plan was clear, no stopping!”

Alex followed, hauled the door closed, and ran after Xander and Veronica. “Um, this part of the plan was Phase One, what’s Phase Two?”

They rounded the bend, and then got to the lower level’s door. Veronica backed away after placing her ear on the surface. “Your move,” she said to Xander, nodding to the gun. “We may have guests on the other—”

Xander moved into position. He nodded for Veronica to get ready to pull the door open. From up one level they heard sounds of clawing and banging at the door. The zombies would figure it out in a moment and rush down upon them, attacking from both directions.

“Here we go,” Xander said, checking his clip.

“Want me to take that?” Veronica asked.

“You’ll get some hardware soon enough. Stay focused.”

“Um…” Alex hung back, glancing up. He felt useless, dead weight.

That all changed with the next words out of Xander’s mouth, before Veronica flung open the door and they rushed into the thick of battle.

“Be ready, kid, you’re up soon. Phase Two? It’s to fight our way back up the stairs to the roof. There’s a helicopter, and I’m hoping you have enough skill to fly us the hell out of here.”

#

Veronica had to admit, for a biochemist nerd, Xander was pretty dead-on with a gun, and that was a good thing when only a headshot would suffice, A real good thing. He took down two raging ex-soldiers to their immediate left as he exited the stairwell, then shot down three in quick succession on the other side. Veronica saw her chance—a .45 clipped to one of the zombie guard’s belts—and snagged it just in time.

Xander, on her right, mowed down another four charging creatures, sweeping at head level and blasting their skulls open, while she covered them from the left, firing ten rounds at the five lurching figures as they marched around the corner like dumb AIs in a shooter video game.

In the ensuing silence, they heard rumbling steps and echoes of hungry wailing somewhere else on the level. The corridor was littered with zombie corpses and the walls were sprayed with gore and bullet holes, but for now, they were safe.

They approached the munitions door. It had a hand print scanner as well as a key code entry system.

Alex tried the door and breathed out in relief as it opened right up. “I guess we have DeKirk’s overzealous sense of drama to thank for this.”

“Just get in,” Xander said, turning and giving the hallway a once-over as he checked his gun’s magazine—one round left. “And gear up. This was just a prelude to the fight we’re going to have getting to the roof.”

Alex stood there in awe—not so much because of the shelves and racks full of ammo, weaponry and stacks and stacks of guns, grenades, crossbows and body armor and helmets—but because of Veronica’s sudden burst of unbridled enthusiasm.

She slung a heavy automatic rifle over her left shoulder, and once she was done stuffing magazines into her pockets and a knapsack, she grabbed several handfuls of grenades and set them inside on top. She zipped up and slung that over the same shoulder before grabbing, cocking, and loading two stainless steel .45 handguns and slipping them into the back of her jeans. She considered the crossbow for a moment, hefting it, and then tossed it to Alex.

“Here you go, Daryl.”

Alex fumbled with it and tried to fathom how to load it when Xander reached in, plucked it from his grasp and threw it to the floor. “Quit kidding around. This isn’t
Walking Dead,
let’s not alert them with loud noises’ bullshit. They know where we are—whether its smell or superhuman hearing or fucking ESP. Whatever it is, we need firepower. We need it fast and loud. Gather that gun there, and… well hello, baby!”

He slung the M5 over his shoulder and made his way to a green crate with Asian lettering. “Oh, I really hope my translation is right, and no one took this out already…”

The crate opened, and he whistled. “There you are.” He reached in with both hands, and straightened up, setting the back end of a cylindrical weapon over his right shoulder while he turned and aimed through the sight on the end.

“Bazooka?” Alex whispered.

“RPG,” Veronica said. “Looks to be circa nineteen-eighty. What was this, some hidden military base for the Japanese?”

“Koreans,” Xander corrected, “and…there they are.  He pulled out a square sack and looked inside. “Four rockets, in prime condition.” He grinned like a teenager just given the keys to a sports car. “Let’s gear up. We’ve got a flight to catch…and some dinosaurs to kill if we get the chance.”

Veronica stared at her enemy, this cold calculating killer, and Alex could tell she was weighing her options, trying to judge which threat to take out and when. Whether to just draw those .45s and shoot Xander full of holes right now, or to rely on his knowledge of the facility to get them out.

Logic apparently won out—either that, Alex thought, or she was just biding her time, waiting for a more fitting moment to exact her revenge. Whatever the case, Alex had to focus. He’d been defenseless up to this point, and lucky. No more. He licked his lips, surveying the room for whatever was left for him.

“Just take a damn AK,” Xander said, “and one of those .45s, and let’s move.”

33.

The stairwell was a little more crowded than when they left it, and the gunfire echoed painfully in the narrow quarters. At least it blocked out the hideous sound the zombies made: the hissing, scratching and gnashing of teeth that went with the high-pitched cries of insatiable hunger and brutal bloodlust.

Veronica took the lower section and Xander started to work clearing the upper stairs, while Alex stood at the door, guarding their flank. His hands trembled as the AK-47’s barrel swept back and forth, seeking targets in either direction, although Alex feared it would take him the whole clip before he would be able to hit something’s head. Wishing he had time for practice, all he could think about now was getting to that roof, and then…whether or not he could actually pilot a freakin’ helicopter.

It had to be close to flying a prop plane, right?

Deal with that when you get there
, he thought, flinching with every burst of fire at his back, every guttural cry, every scream from Veronica—who probably couldn’t even hear her own battle cry over the explosive echoing rounds.

The coast clear, he risked a glance over his shoulder and immediately spun around. Veronica was out of ammo, bending over to reach for another magazine. She had forgotten about the guns at her back—or else figured her best bet was still the rapid-fire automatic, but she wasn’t going to make it.

Xander was busy mowing down a seemingly endless onslaught of ex-doctors, janitors and soldiers pouring down the stairs, clambering over the comrades, so he couldn’t help. Alex swung the AK around and aimed. Took a deep breath and just as he focused on the first pair of yellow eyes belonging to a bald, freakishly heavy ex-scientist, he felt his finger tighten and pull—as enthusiastically as he could.

The recoil kicked back and he stumbled then righted himself, ready for another shot, even if he would just get off a burst at the thing’s chest to knock it back. When he looked back, the overweight zombie was toppling backwards, a neat chunk of its skull blown away and gore spilling out.

“Nice shot,” Veronica said, slamming home another magazine before she casually turned and blasted through another wave of undead. Alex stepped in, braced himself and fired off a half dozen more rounds, two of them connecting, before aiming up the stairs and taking out one more, riddling bullets up its chest before connecting with its chin, and then punching through its open mouth.

Xander shot one more with a .45 as it rounded the bend, gnashing at them. When it was down he gave Alex a nod. “Thanks for the assist, kid. Now let’s move.”

Alex chose his spots without much concern, stepping on the backs and chests of bloodied corpses, trying to get to the clearer stairs beyond. Veronica followed, but Alex hesitated, glancing at a few of the faces on these stairs, then below.

“What are you doing, kid, looking for loose change?”

Alex swallowed hard, still trying to peek around all the shattered skulls and look for eyes that held some familiarity. “Looking for my Dad.”

Veronica paused. Xander sighed and shook his gun in a waving motion. “Haven’t seen him in this bunch, so stop wasting time.”

“Where did you last see him?”

“Outside, okay? He kind of…went berserk and busted free after wasting a few guards. I opened the lab door and let him out. He’s probably…” Xander made a shooing motion over his shoulder. “Out in the world somewhere, hopefully roaming free, doing what zombies do.”

Shaking his head, Alex started after them. “I’m not giving up on him. He can fight this, and it was just an extremity wound.”

“From a freakin’ dinosaur,” Xander snapped, skipping to an empty stair, and then running around. “Let’s pick up the pace, I hear them.”

Alex did too—down the stairs below them. Doors banging against walls, more trampling feet.
Definitely brought by the gunfire,
he thought.
The hell with whatever other senses they’ve got.

“Uh… one last question.”

“Come on,” Xander called from above, exasperated.

Alex stopped in mid-step, seeing a tear in his boot, and then looking at all that blood on the floor, among the corpses.
Hell, on my own clothes…
“When you studied this virus thing, did you happen to conclude anything about like…how it infects somebody?”

Xander’s head peeked over the railing. “What?”

“Well, you looked in the microscope and saw the microbes in my Dad’s blood, just swimming around, so those things—they’ve got to be everywhere, right? And if they touch our skin, or get in a cut, or our eyes, or we breathe them in…”

“Jesus. You a germophobe or something? That’s not how it works. They’re activated through enzymes in the host’s saliva.”

Alex frowned. “So…we have to be bitten?”

“Yes!” Veronica shouted, picking up the logic faster. “Just step on ‘em, and get the hell up here.”

Alex moved his foot, but stretched and found a clear spot, then jumped over the remaining heap of bodies to land on another empty space.
Taking no chances.

He ran after them.