Rage (8 page)

“
She was with me when I was captured.”

The doctor shook his head. “The hunters only brought you here.”

“
Hunters?”

The doctor shrugged. “We needed specimens for testing.”

Oh, fuck. It was starting to dawn on me. “Did you start all this...this...” I couldn’t find the words to finish the sentence. The Rage was doubling inside, the blood bubbled in my veins. “...this...Fuck! You destroyed everything.”

The sound of footsteps softly echoed at the other end of the hall. The zombies had discovered stair climbing. I heard three—no—four headed this way. “I hear my brothers coming for you.” I smiled. The Rage lessened. He was going to become the thing he created.

“
It’s not only me. There are several of us. We were commissioned to find a bio-weapon for the army. The US is under constant attack. Our shores need to be protected. We’ve become soft and over sensitive of the rights of others when they don’t give a fig about our rights.”

“
Or religion?”

“
Exactly. I’m happy you understand.”

“
So you destroyed what they wanted?”

“
This outbreak was an accident.”

“
There are no accidents.”

Dr. Speaker’s voice rose, “This was never meant to happen.”

My attention was focused on how close those zombies were. Surely, they could hear the doctor. “What about an antidote?”

The doctor looked down. “Everything failed until you came along.” He lifted the computer screen off the desk where it had toppled. He turned it around and showed me a graph with a tiny square in the top right corner showing George undergoing tests. He didn’t look like a zombie.

“
You made George?”

“
He volunteered.”

“
Yeah, sure he did,” I said looking at the screen. “That’s why he’s strapped down, and looks doped out of his mind.”

“
A little prodding was required,” he conceded. Then he strangely smiled.

I realized a little too late that the footsteps had stopped. I turned around and two steel pins flew into my chest. An electric shock took me off my feet. I hit the floor. My head banged against the fallen door. A man dressed in army fatigues pressed the trigger and delivered another shock.

Dr. Cannon stood over me. “You are the antidote, John. Get used to it. And do your job helping us clean this mess.” He stepped over me. “By the way, George escaped and started this. He was gone three weeks before recapture.”

Images waved in and out of focus. The electricity was doing a real job on me. Army tasers obviously did more than subdue people. Through the haze and pain I muttered, “Where are the hunters?”

Dr. Cannon nodded. “They are of no use to us anymore.” He went to the desk, scribbled on a piece of paper, and put it in my pocket. “That’s their address.” Getting to his feet, he said, “I hope you find your wife.” The sincerity in his voice sounded real. “That way you can bite her and make another like you.” He smiled. “Husband and wife weapons, I like that idea. Perfect.”

I was going to tell him to fuck off when the soldier sent a third shock into my system. Darkness came, rushing at me from all directions. I couldn’t stop it. In a way, I hoped I wouldn’t wake up. This nightmare that was my life would end and I could rest...forever.

But I awoke with a pounding headache. The light outside was dulling and dusk was on its way. I must have been out for a couple of hours.

Slowly getting to my feet, I spied my Glock on the floor. It must have fallen from my jeans when I hit the floor. I scooped it up. The doctor and the army guys were gone. The computer was gone as well. Scanning the room, I saw a coat rack with a tweed jacket-hanging limp and beside that was a full size locker. I opened it expecting to find nothing; instead, I found me looking back at me. The door had a mirror on it. It showed only my face but my skin was back to normal. The RAGE had gone. I felt kind of empty, as if an important part of who I now was, was missing.

Leaning against the back of the locker was an M-16 with four magazines stacked neatly beside it. The doctor had obviously left in a rush. I grabbed the machine gun and magazines and slid one into each pocket.

Back in the corridor, I decided to check the roof. That height would give me a good look at my surroundings. If luck was on my side, I would be able to pin point my location, get some bearing on where I was.

I climbed the steps without urgency. At the top, I pushed open the door and stepped out onto a helipad. Looking around, I saw George. Cradled in his arms was a soldier, torn to shreds. He looked up at me, a hunk of meat in his mouth. He was chewing in earnest.

“
You can climb steps?”

George nodded and suddenly looked guilty at what he was doing. He pushed the corpse away, stood up and approached me.

“
Eat, my friend. You need food.” As a joke, I added, “You’re wasting away.” I smiled. George stared at me blankly. Zombies have no sense of humor. He glanced back at the soldier, clearly hungry. I nodded. “Eat.” He walked slowly back to his dinner. I didn’t feel hungry at the sight as I had in Rage form. I was craving a hamburger. That made me laugh.

Standing on the edge of the rooftop, I scanned the area. There were woods to the North, a country road surrounded by farmland in the South. Slightly off to the West was a bunch of suburban houses. About a click to the East of the hospital was a large township. It wasn’t big enough for me to call it a city but it was quite big. Unfortunately, I didn’t recognize it. This was unfamiliar territory.

I reached into my shirt pocket and pulled out the note the doctor had left me. The address was written clearly. Under the address, he had scribbled a message: Clean up this mess.

To George, I said, “I’m going to gather supplies. Can you get downstairs?”

He nodded.

“
We leave at nightfall.”

He tilted his head in my direction. Confusion covered his decaying features.

“
You don’t wanna stay here, do you?”

George looked back at the soldier.

“
Your choice,” I said and opened the door leading off the roof. “It’ll be dusk in half an hour or so. I’ll leave then.”

I’m not sure why I wanted George to join me. It might have been for several reasons my subconscious was aware of but hadn’t told me yet. Still, I was going to find out sooner or later. For now, I needed to find supplies and hopefully a map to find out where the hell I was and how far away was the address Dr. Cannon had given me. I don’t know why I believed it, but I did. I needed somewhere to start to find my wife. Sally was out there somewhere and the address gave me a glimmer of hope. I’d be crushed if the address were bogus. At least it got me moving and thinking of the future.

In the basement levels, I found a well-stocked kitchen and a rucksack with many pockets. I put the M-16 on the counter and stood in front of a massive amount of food I hadn’t seen in months. I could pick and choose. So, I did. Taking cookies I knew I would need to eat within a month and a number of canned foods, I grabbed two bottles of water figuring that would be enough for now. Water was easy to find. Food on the other hand...I was going to keep this place secret.

With everything packed and the M-16 slung over my shoulder and the Glock in the front of my jeans now, I was ready to head out. Unfortunately, there wasn’t a map to be found in the kitchen or a couple of nurse’s stations. There might be one up in Cannon’s office, but I didn’t want to go all the way up there. I wanted to get a move on.

I went to the emergency exit and waited for George. He probably wouldn’t come, preferring to munch on juicy blood-filled meat. Good on him. I wished him well...

...and stepped into the night.

At the end of the driveway, I looked left and right, with no idea in which direction to go. I chose right and took a step in that direction. A hand landed on my shoulder. I nearly jumped out of my skin. Spinning around, I opened up the Rage and faced George. Instantly relaxation set in again.

George pointed to the left. He seemed to know where we were. I showed him the address. “Do you know it?” He stared at the paper blankly. His reaction was disappointing but then I think I expected too much from all the testing he had been through.

Repositioning my rucksack on my shoulders, I followed his lead. We walked past dark houses and shambling zombies from the hospital and several I hadn’t seen before. None paid us any attention, to them I was one of them and so was George, even though we were different in many ways.

Cannon had made me into a weapon but I had no urge to kill them. If they were attacking someone, I probably would, but that was a decision I couldn’t make at this time.

The streets were silent, save a few shuffling feet from zombies or George, though he could move lightning fast when needed. The stars above were bright and the yellow moon was in harvest mode, providing much needed light on these dark streets.

We walked along the middle of the road.

A gunshot rang out behind us and I heard the rev of an engine and a group of young men whooping and cheering. Several shots rang out before I grabbed George by the shoulder and pulled him to a neighboring house. We squatted behind a white picket fence.

The truck pulled up a few feet from us. A rotting zombie woman was tied to the hood. These assholes got around. The zombie was a different one from when I had last seen them. This one was blonde, but unlike the others, it was rotting. Grey splotches covered her skin and her fingers had pieces missing—whether it was before or after she met these fuckheads, I had no idea.

All the zombies were headed for the truck, the sound attracting them. A couple of times, George stood up but I grabbed him and held him in place.

Those boys were good shots. Bodies were dropping all around them. Each shot went to the head and through the head, ripping skull and brain matter over the road and advancing zombies. As a well-oiled unit, they dropped their spent weapons and produced another handgun from the rear of their trousers.

Gunfire echoed through the streets.

“
Not the brunette!” one shouted. “She’s fresh.”

A red-headed guy stopped firing and ran to the ‘fresh’ zombie in a nurse’s uniform. He kicked her legs out from under her. From his jacket pocket, he pulled out a gag-ball, climbed on top of the zombie’s back, pinning her to the ground. He masterly set the gag-ball and tightened the strap around her head. The ex-nurse was lying motionless. He handcuffed her ankles and climbed off and returned to firing.

Several shots later, all guns fell silent. There were more zombies much further up the road. The four guys started reloading.

“
Russ,” red hair said, “we need to move on.”

“
No worries, Trev.” He looked to the other guys, “One of you fucks wanna replace the bitch.”

“
You do it, Chevy.”

“
It’s your turn,” Russ said.

“
But I’m first this time.”

Russ looked at him. “Fine, ‘fast’ Harry, you’re first.”

Chevy walked up to the hood. The strapped down zombie growled. He blew her brains out.

George pushed me. I glared at him. “It’s time to end this shit?” He nodded and I agreed. But we needed a plan. They were fully loaded and two guys were stripping the nurse and dragging her to the hood. They all had their backs to us, intent on binding her correctly.

“
Shit, this one looks like she died just hours ago,” Russ said.

She did, I thought and stood up. I had no plan but there was no way I was going to let them harm one of my own. I kept the Rage at bay. George rushed past me and, with speed I’d seen in the hospital, he charged the four guys, not uttering a word or a growl. I dropped my rucksack, M-16 and Glock.

George grabbed Harry in a bear hug, twirled him around and slammed him into the ground. He bit into the guy’s neck. Blood arched out of the wound. He rolled the body over on top of him. Seconds later, shots fired out. Each bullet slammed into Harry.

Meanwhile, I had run around the back of the truck and untied the nurse’s gag-ball. She had one arm free.

Using the body as a shield, George got off the ground.