The Demented Z (Book 3): Contagion (10 page)

“Okay, stop.” The man
said while lowering his rifle a bit and holding a free hand out toward her.
  He leaned over to the other man and whispered
something to him. They both conversed
back and forth. “We’re going to put both
of you in quarantine and get Miles…see what he wants to do with you two.”

On the third floor, Hank could hear shoes shuffling on the
wooden floor and creepy groans emanating from behind the doors that lined the
hall. There were infected in the rooms
and they had heard the shots, stirring their hunger.
  The upper hall lacked a window and was fairly
dark other than light that trickled under some of the doors.
  He used this meager light to guide him along,
listening as he passed each door.

It was a mangled door at the end of the hall that caused him
to stop. The wood was shredded.
  Where the doorknob used to be was a
splintered gash. A single hinge is all
that kept the whole thing from crashing to the floor.

The room beyond was veiled in darkness, only a sliver of
light streaked out from the edge of a far window.
  He eased into the void, using his foot to
move the door out of the way. He was surrounded
by the sounds of the demented, but none emanated from the room ahead.
  Shuffling his feet to keep from tripping, he
skidded his way across the wood floor.

  As he approached the
sliver of light he could see that there was a large wooden shelving unit that
had been positioned in front of the window.  
He lowered his rifle and used his shoulder to push the unit along the
wall, revealing a four inch slab of window.  
Most of the glass had been broken out.  
Only a few stubborn shards jutted out from the edge of the frame.

With the additional light, Hank spun around and surveyed the
room. His mind brought up visions of a
putrefied face right at him, jaws open wide, ready to tear into him.
  It wasn’t exactly relief, but he was glad to
find he was the room’s only occupant.  
The place was trashed. Along the
side wall were what remained of a bed.
  The soiled mattress leaned awkwardly in the
corner.   The metal frame was bent, side
railings nearly touching the floor. Hank
found the missing door handle resting up against one of the bed’s legs.
  The wall was splattered with dark stains and
several large chunks of drywall were missing, leaving gaping holes.
 
Whatever
was in here, I’m glad it’s gone.
Hank
thought.

Several
booms
caused Hank to jump. He thought there
were voices shouting, but it was muffled and could have just been the sounds of
the demented.

He turned back to the window and peered below.
  Even from this height he could see foot
prints dotting the white snow. His eyes
quickly scanned over the buildings and all the way out to the hillside.
  No movement.

More gun shots.

His eyes caught movement.  
Directly below, a man ran in a half crouch across the open space.
  As he neared one of the barracks another man
stepped out from around the back corner.  
Both men wore camo fatigues.
  They were rapidly talking and pointing back
toward the main tower.

Hank slowly brought his rifle up.
  He stood as far off the window as he could get
while still having a sightline to both targets.  
With slow, methodical movements, he dropped his cheek down, resting it
gently on his rifle’s stock. Slow steady
breaths eased his nerves and allowed him to train his crosshairs on the target
nearest the building. He slowly put
pressure on the trigger.
Boom
.

Hank saw the target drop, leaving only a floating pink mist
where he once stood.   With the smooth
motion of a practiced hand, Hank worked the bolt to rack another round in the
chamber. His eyes remained on the second
target the entire time. He had hoped for
shock and indecision by the second man, but this was not the case.
  The well trained soldier reacted to the shot
instantly. Hank never had a chance to
fire the second round, only seeing a trailing boot disappear behind the
building as the man dove for cover.

The shots whipped the trapped infected into
a frenzy. Shrieks and
bangs echoed down the hall. The sounds
tried to pull Hank from the window.
A backup would be really beneficial about
now. Heck a door would be a bonus at
this point.
Hank thought to himself.

Not wanting to take his eyes off the building below, Hank
remained in place, keeping both eyes open to survey the entire scene.
  Even in his semi-awkward position and the
chaos around him, he felt a calm wash over him.  
He had spent a lot of days just like this and took comfort in the
familiar. As long as nothing rushed him
from behind, he knew he could out wait his target.
  From his hideout the man would have to cover
a minimum distance of almost twenty feet – a lifetime.

Time ticked away.
The infected slowly calmed back to a dull
rumble
.
Noises occasionally echoed from somewhere below, faint but
unnerving none the less. Hank
held steady, never taking his eyes off the building.
  There had been no movement.
  No sign of life.
  Hank was beginning to worry that there was an
underground escape. Visions of someone
sneaking in behind him and slitting his throat flashed through his mind.
    He pushed the thoughts out, knowing it was
paranoia trying to get the best of him.

A new noise sounded from somewhere out in the hall.
  It was not as muffled as the others.
  Something was in the hall.
  Hank was torn.
  He knew the second he turned from the window
his target would get away…and almost worse is the fact that he wouldn’t know if
his target remained in the building or not.  
He could sit and babysit a building for hours with nobody inside.
  He remained at the window.

There was a loud
thud
out in the hall followed by low growling.  
Hank was just about to turn around when he saw a flicker of movement in
one of the building’s windows.

It was dark and difficult to make out from this angle, but
the man was shifting into one of the front rooms.
  Hank closed his left eye, sighting through
the scope. His heart hammered in his
chest when he got a clear sight picture and saw the man lying on his back, feet
near the window, and head further back into the shadows.
  The soldier’s rifle was pointed straight at
Hank.

In the same instant, Hank pulled the trigger and he saw a
bright flash from within the dark window below.  
Searing pain lit Hank’s temple.  
Warm blood trickled down his cheek and ran under his ear to his
neck. He focused through the scope.

Angered growls echoed down the hall, followed by the
pounding of boots on wood.

Hank scanned the window, seeing no movement.
  His crosshairs traced the unmoving form all
the way up to his head. The military
man’s rifle lay at an angle next to the body.  
His head was turned to the side and a dark pool was forming
underneath. Not unscathed, but Hank had
won the battle.

An angry shriek reminded him that this was far from
over. It was incredibly loud, clearly within
the room. Hank dropped the rifle,
grabbed his sidearm, and spun toward the door.  
A huge man dressed in torn up overalls raced directly at him.
  The man’s bearded face was covered in
gore. His mouth opened in a menacing
growl as he neared Hank.

Pop…Pop…Pop…

Hank rapidly squeezed the pistol’s trigger.
  Round after round slammed into the man’s
chest, ripping ragged holes in his tan overalls.
  The man’s knees buckled, but his momentum
carried him into Hank. The man’s
crushing weight pushed Hank over backwards into the wall below the window.
  His shoulder caught the corner of the shelving
unit, shooting pain the length of his arm.  
His hand instantly went numb and he lost his grip on the pistol.
  The weapon clattered to the floor as the air
was pushed from Hank’s lungs.

Overalls wasn’t alone.
  Pounding boots chased after him, filling the
room with the sounds of hate. Hank
panicked, his lungs desperately gasped for air.  
His fingers touched on the metal pistol, but he couldn’t get his fingers
to grasp properly. Just over the dead
man’s shoulder, Hank could see a second infected rushing across the small
room. The woman’s red eyes were locked
on Hank as she screamed out in rage.

Overall’s crushing weight became the only defense that was
keeping the woman away from Hank. She
reached for Hank’s face, trying to rip at his exposed flesh.
  Hank continued to reach for the pistol while
using his left hand to fend off the woman’s attacks.
  As his fingers tingled with regained
circulation, he fumbled with the weapon, finally getting a grasp around the
steel. Just holding the handle flooded
him with relief. He brought the pistol
up and around the back of Overalls.  
Aiming blindly, he pulled the trigger.  
The pistol
cracked
loudly, but
the woman continued to thrash and reach for him.
  A second shot caught her in the ear,
splattering blood and gore everywhere.  
Her body went limp and she toppled to the side.

The contagion instantly crossed Hank’s mind.
  Was he breathing in death – sucking in the
unseen infection? Blood had spattered
all around him. He felt wet droplets on
his face. None had made it in his mouth
or eyes…at least not that he could tell.

Hank was struggling out from under Overalls when he heard
movement in the hall. There was the
sound of pounding from within the rooms, but this was different.
  Shuffling feet.
  Moans.
  The hungry groans of the
undead. It was the slow moving
parade that seemed to follow the rapid onslaught of the demented.

He rolled out from under the beast of a man just as the
first undead staggered into the open doorway.  
His partially decayed head looked down the hall as he came to a
stop. The gray lifeless eyes stared
ahead, unblinking. He stood there,
hesitating for several seconds, and then slowly turned his head toward
Hank. A guttural groan rolled out of his
open mouth. His blue pilot’s suit
swished as he turned and moved through the open doorway.

Quickly standing, Hank holstered his pistol and unclipped
the crossbow from his belt. He fired a
bolt dead center into the zombie’s forehead.  
The body slumped to the floor, revealing another entering the room
behind him. Hank loaded another bolt and
fired, killing the second one. The
sounds of more infected continued from the hallway.

Hank raced to the doorway and carefully peered out into the
darkness. The hall was filled with arms
and legs. There was at least a dozen, if
not more, undead staggering his way.  
Rather than continue to waste ammo and get slowly overwhelmed, he turned
back into the room. He looked down at
the pair of bolts lodged in the undeads’
foreheads. He desperately wanted to grab
them to keep his supplies, but worried about the infection and knew it was
safer to leave them behind.

He reached the far wall and used his shoulder to shove the
shelving unit away from the window.   He
scooped up his large caliber hunting rifle and used the butt to knock out the
remaining shards of glass in the window.  
One level below gleamed the metal roof of the
second story. It angled down toward the
ground. He figured it was about an eight
foot drop, fun slide, followed by a final drop of eight to ten feet into the
snow.
Sounds like a ride people would pay for at an amusement park.

A quick look over his shoulder gave him a glimpse of undead
making the doorway. Time
to ride. He turned and climbed
through the opening, trying his best to spin around and lower himself.
  Instead he sliced his hand on a small piece
of glass, lost his grip, and flew backwards into open space.
  He wished he got the slow motion fall actors
got in the movies. Instead it was a
terrifyingly fast plummet that ended in a painful crash on the hard metal
roof. The slick surface kept propelling
him downward. Sliding headfirst, he
skidded downwards and then shot out into open space once again.
  With a loud grunt of pain he slammed into the
cold, hard ground below. The snow slowed
the impact, but only enough to slightly dampen the jarring sting.
  “Ouch.”  
He whispered between gritted teeth.

Before he had time
to take a full breath and get his thoughts together the pang of a body hitting
the sloped roof above rang out. It was
quickly followed by another.

******

“Have either of you been around the infected?”
  The man asked.

Kelly shook her head.  
“No, not for a long time.
  Just saw them on our way in.”

“Way in?” The man
shrugged his shoulders. “Where could you
have been to avoid infected?”

“Up…way up.”

The young man had a confused look on his face, thinking.

Kelly smiled for the first time in a long while.
  “Cabin in the mountains.”

Understanding crossed his face as he rapidly nodded his
head. “You must be Tom’s wife.”

It was her turn to look confused.
  “How’d you know?”

“Can’t be too many mountain hermits around
here.   I was with Abby when she
talked with Hank to find out where you guys were hiding out.”
  He sat staring at the wall for a bit and then
said, “I’m Isaac by the way.”

“Nice to meet you.”
  Kelly said.  
She held her hands out toward the walls, looking around the narrow
trailer. “So why are you in quarantine?”

“I killed a young woman.”

Kelly gasped and looked back to Sam.

Isaac held out a hand.  
“I was framed. Someone…and I
think I know who set me up. The council
was going to decide what to do with me, probably execute me, and then
it
hit.”

“What hit?”

“The infection got inside the walls.”
  He shook his head.
  “I only get bits and pieces from those that
come in bringing me food. The council
was getting ready to start removing people that were considered drags on the
compound. People started getting fevers
and turning. The council had been trying
to keep the fevers under wraps…squelch panic and all that, but yesterday there
were too many to keep it under wraps. Screams
and shouts have echoed through town off and on all through the night and
today.”