The Infected: A Post Apocalyptic Thriller (11 page)

"What's wrong, dear?" Greta asked. "You look upset. Don't you like my work?"

"It's not that. You've done a wonderful job."

"Then what, dear?"

"I need to find Cole and we need to be on our way."

"But you just got here. Why so eager to leave?"

"We're on a journey to a town named Concordia," Sam said. The words sounded foolish to her, but she continued anyway. "It's a city at the center of the country and—"

"Well," Greta interrupted and then gave a nervous laugh. "I'm sure after dinner the General will help get you back on track."

"Do you really believe that?"

The old woman glanced around as if someone else was in the room with them. After a moment, she bent down and whispered in Sam's ear. "If you get the chance, run."

"Greta?" Sam asked, but was answered by a firm tug of her hair.

"Of course I do," Greta said. "General Soto's a wonderful man."

Sam understood at once. They were being monitored. She bit her tongue. She had more questions but knew asking them would only put Greta in a difficult spot. Instead, she remained quiet as Greta finished the touchups.

"There," Greta announced. "Not too shabby if you ask me."

"I agree," Sam said.

"Now, stand up, dearie," Greta instructed and Sam did as she asked.

Greta crossed the tile floor to the closet across the room and removed a short black dress, a pair of heels, and a fresh pair of undergarments. Sam protested but the old woman shook her head.

"Put this on," Greta said. "I'll give you a moment."

Sam took the clothes and Greta left the room and closed the door behind her. She stared at the foreign reflection for a long time before removing her towel. In the mirror, Sam gawked at the bruises covering her body. Remnants of the vicious wreck. How long had it been now? Two weeks? More? Sam didn't know. Time seemed to be an illusion.

The faintness of the bruises suggested it had been at least a week and a half. Ten days since the last time she spoke to Jordan. Since the last time he held her. Tears stung at her eyes, but she forced them back. She had to stop crying. There was no time for weakness.

She pulled on the undergarments. They weren't the traditional pair of Ministry-issued cotton panties and bra. These were lace and satin. These were the type of undergarments that were meant to be seen. She blushed as she caught a glimpse of the thin string disappearing into her backside. And again at how far the bra pushed up her breasts.

Sam's skin turned to gooseflesh as she thought of the General and his unknown intentions. But if she was honest with herself, she knew damned well what they were. The underwear was a dead giveaway but so was the conversation with Alex about how the men treated the girls here.

She stepped into the black dress and pulled the straps over her shoulders. It was a short, black cocktail dress—incredibly short. It hugged her waist and her breasts spilled out of it regardless of how much she adjusted the neckline.

Six-inch shiny black stilettos accompanied it. Sam shoved her foot into the narrow opening of the first shoe and then the second. They were uncomfortable and Sam felt awkward wearing them. She couldn't remember ever wearing anything other than the grimy pair of tennis shoes. These would make escaping that much more difficult.

She looked herself over once more in the mirror. She shuddered as the word
prostitute
flashed through her mind. Seeing the final product and knowing deep down what the General had in mind…she would have settled for clown.

Clumsily, she exited the bathroom where Greta was waiting for her. She stood next to the uniformed man with the perfect skin and perfect hair. He offered a wide smile and Sam's gut instinct screamed to return to the safety of the bathroom. Lock the door and barricade it.

Instead, she approached him.

"You look breathtaking," he said. He offered a slight bow, took her by the hand and then raised it to his lips. "Allow me to formally introduce myself. My name is General Alistair Soto." He kissed the back of her outstretched hand.

Despite the growing urge to knee him in the groin, Sam offered a terse smile and said, "Your fist looks like it's healing nicely, General."

5

The two sauntered down the hall of the complex followed by two armed guards carrying automatic weapons. Sam held onto the General Soto's arm, partially for balance but also because he had insisted. The heels clicked and clacked and each step echoed down the marble hallway.

"I do apologize for the rude welcome," Soto said.

"I have no interest in your empty apologies, General," Sam said. "The only thing I want is to see my friend and then be on our way."

"In due time, my darling. But first a tour of our great city and perhaps an exchange of pleasantries along the way."

The General guided her down elaborate hallway after elaborate hallway. The green and gold marble floor had been buffed to a mirror-like shine and Sam blushed as she caught a reflection of herself in the revealing costume. After years of being resigned to the thick coveralls in New Hope, she felt naked in anything else.

They strode past an endless parade of fine art, each piece framed in elaborate gold and hung to the polished stone wall. Mixed in were countless portraits of more men and women Sam didn't recognize. More decorations. More wall art. More posturing. Sam stopped paying attention to the brash pieces as they proceeded farther into the labyrinth of corridors, but something else had caught her eye.

At first, she had dismissed the small security cameras suspended in each corner. But upon reaching the end of the fifth or sixth corridor—she had lost track at this point—the frequency of the red dots tracking them was too much to overlook.

"You have a problem with privacy?" she asked and nodded to the camera in front of them.

"Our predecessors installed the cameras to help protect the citizens of Lost Angel," the General said. "Not to impede on their privacy."

"Protect them from what?"

"I think the easy answer would be the halfways." The General stopped in the middle of the hallway and Sam did the same. "If one of those monstrosities somehow breached our walls, we would be able to track it. We'd be able to hunt it down and exterminate it before it did any damage."

"Is there a hard answer?" Sam asked.

The General frowned and then nodded. "The hard answer is we put them in place to protect the citizens from themselves."

"Why would you need to do that?"

"For many, many years, we have lived in this bunker, sheltered away from the creatures of the up-top. A select few of my staff patrol the entrance to keep the monstrosities away, but the vast majority of the citizens are restricted to the bunker. Such restrictions can take a toll on a person's psyche. It makes people act of character. Drives them mad. Makes them hunger for unattainable things."

Sam cringed. "What kind of things?"

The General looked her up and down and then smiled. She wanted to vomit.

"We don't have many problems from the lower levels but the citizens near the top, the more well-to-do citizens, sometimes get an itch that they need to scratch. They grow restless from time to time.

"The cameras allow me to keep a watchful eye over the compound. I do this to protect them. And to keep some citizens from visiting with our patients." The General paused and flashed a shit-eating grin.

Sam's blood boiled. He had been watching her room. He had seen Alex try to help her.

"And of course," he continued, "to offer a helping hand when one is needed."

"And who watches you, General? Who watches the watcher?"

The General chuckled and turned away from her. The corners of his mouth drooped into a frown and his eyes stared at the wall ahead of them. "Shall we go?"

Sam knew that she was close to pushing the wrong button and backed off from further questioning. The two resumed their walk, the guards following a few feet behind, and departed from the labyrinth of brash and gaudy hallways.

They reached a large steel door reminiscent of a submarine hatch. Sam placed her hand atop of the wheel lock, but the General stopped her.

"Please, allow me." He placed a hand on each of her bare shoulders and moved her aside. "This is a man's work."

His touch sent a wave of goose pimples up her arm. A Molotov cocktail of repulsion and ire burst open in the pit of her stomach. For a moment, she saw nothing but the color red and her muscles tensed as if preparing to strike. She forced a deep breath and then another and the anger faded.

The General rotated the wheel and the sound of the door unlocking boomed through the hallway. Beyond the door was a metal platform surrounded by a rock wall. It was her first glimpse of anything resembling an underground bunker. The platform opened to a set of metal stairs descending into an abyss of darkness.

General Soto navigated Sam down the staircase. As they descended, the warmth of the higher levels disappeared leaving nothing but the cold hug of the narrow rock walls. Sam clung to the steel railing as she fought to steady herself after each step. Close to a hundred steps later, they reached the landing of the stairwell and Sam found herself staring at a massive cave-like opening.

It took a few minutes for her vision to adjust to the low-lit cave. Electric lanterns hung every few feet, but the darkness swallowed the little light they produced. She tripped over something and the General caught her before she hit the ground. She squinted and saw thick cables, bundled together, running down the length of the cave.

"The backup generators," the General said, "are kept on the bottom floors of the mines. The lower level crew's responsibility is to keep them maintained in case our main power source is ever severed."

"Main power source?" Sam asked.

"Above us is a field of solar powered generators," the General said and paused again. Sam followed suit and stood beside him. "There are 75 total generators and over half are in perfect working order. We consider them to be a gift from our ancestors."

"And the other half?" Sam asked. She didn't really care but figured that it was best to engage the General. She would play the role of the cooperative, friendly guest until the opportunity to escape presented itself and she hoped that would come sooner rather than later.

"Mechanical failures," the General said. "While our forefathers left us with instructions to repair the machines, the parts to maintain them are scarce to say the least. As their operations cease, we've torn them down to keep the others functioning."

Sam eyed the two guards. They stood a dozen feet back and were carrying on their own conversation. The service rifle of one of the guards lolled in his grip, and for the briefest of moments, Sam wondered if she could grab it before being overtaken.

"But as time passed and we've evolved as a society, we've reached a better understanding of how the old technology works. Now, we hardly have any breakage in the working generators and we are repairing some of the broken machines that have lain dormant for years. There are a few we'll never be able to fix. They need parts that can't be recreated and we can't risk any men to scavenge parts inside the old city."

"The old city?" Sam asked, her attention still focused on the soldier's rifle. Inside, she debated with the primal urge to rip it from his hands. The margin for error was small. Where was the urge coming from, though?

"Lost Angel," Soto said. "The original Lost Angel. It was a massive city before the infection. Its skeletal remains can be seen on the horizon if the day is clear enough. Warehouses, old homesteads, gargantuan buildings. We've foraged the outlying areas, but the majority of the city is crawling with halfways."

"You have weapons," Sam said. "Can't you fight them off?"

The General gave a belly laugh. "Our records show that we lost a good number of military during initial explorations of the city. That was eons ago, but I still won't risk any more men to find out if those soulless imps have moved on. Not worth it in my opinion. Of course, that's why they've reelected me so many times. Because of the sanctity I hold for human life."

Sam wondered if Soto had any idea of how asinine he sounded. She thought of Alex and Greta. The fear in both of their eyes. She wondered if he believed in the sanctity of human life or perhaps he meant huMAN life. Sam thought the latter was more likely.

"Shall we continue?" Soto asked.

"Yes," Sam said. "I'm anxious to see Cole."

"All in due time, my darling. All in due time."

They continued down the invisible path and surged deeper into the pitch-black. The lanterns gave way to runs of wired lights strung down the length of wall. Although there were hundreds of the tiny twinkling bulbs—two strands running down the length of each wall and another draped from the ceiling—the darkness was still overwhelming. After a few more feet, they stopped once more. Soto pointed and through the darkness Sam saw the outline of a door.

The steel door was the same gray color as the cave wall and would easy to overlook if the lower strand of lights hadn't stopped and then picked back up on the opposite side. The General placed a hand on the doorknob and paused.

"This is the cafeteria for the higher levels of the mines," his voice echoed off the stone walls. "The workers don't interact with anyone other than the mine foremen and each other. I'd like to apologize in advance for any…staring."

The General didn't wait for a response. Instead, he turned the knob and opened the door. Bright fluorescent lights spilled out into the dark cave and Sam shielded her eyes. The General left her side and entered the room.

Sam followed Soto through the doorway and into a large room. It reminded her of New Hope's mess hall. Dozens of 12 foot wooden tables littered the room. Sam's heart dropped at the sight of the hundred or so people seated around them. Not just people. Children.

Sunken eyes stared at her as she entered. Hollow cheeks. Bloated bellies. They were all malnourished. All covered in dirt and soot. Their clothes consisted of torn rags that hung from their bodies.

"Oh my god," Sam whispered.

"It's impressive, isn't it?" Soto asked. "We've built quite the workforce over the years."

Sam's eyes scanned the crowd. The children ranged from five to 15 and while the majority of the children looked to be boys, there were a handful of girls sprinkled throughout the crowd.

"The barracks and common areas reserved for the older workers are down below, closer to the generators. We've found the steep incline becomes an issue as the adults turn 30."

"And they work down in the mines their entire lives?" Sam asked. Her voice shook as the blood running through her veins turned icy.

"Yes and no," the General said. "The average life expectancy of a mineworker is around 40 years of age. In the rare instances they make it to 50, they are rewarded by being allowed to live on the higher levels and continue the rest of their days as our servants. Maids, butlers, cooks, that sort of thing."

Sam was dumbstruck by the hundreds of eyes that all stared back at her and searched for something to say as the General continued.

"The workers are divided into multiple teams down here. The smarter ones are placed on a mechanical team that services the generators. There's also an excavation team known as the diggers. And a specialized team that handles a multitude of different operations. The foreman—"

"Stop," Sam said.

The General turned toward her and frowned. "I'm sorry?"

"I just…I don't understand," Sam said. "How are there so many kids?"

"Ah, yes." The General lowered his voice and turned to Sam. "The girls are given a choice when they turn 12. They can continue to work in the mines or they can live atop with the military and royal families. They offer a different service."

Sam understood fully what Alexandria had told her.

"They will have children until they can no longer. Our hopes are that each woman can mother at least 10 to 12 children. From birth, the male children are monitored and given a series' of aptitude tests throughout their first five years of life. We select the brightest to continue the bloodlines. Those that exhibit leadership skills are selected for military duty, and those that display adeptness for mathematics and science will join the ranks of our science and medical departments. The rest of the children will join the workforce in the mines."

"Why are you showing me this? Why are you telling me these horrible things?"

"Horrible?" Soto said. He looked taken aback. "This is how we survive, my darling. How we've been able to sustain life for all these years. I assumed you would be interested in this. Just as I am interested in how you and your friend have survived…and where you came from."

Sam didn't answer this, nor did she look at the General. She couldn't. Just being next to the man made her sick. Everything about this place was appalling. Her heart broke as she looked into the gaunt faces of the children. Some still stared back, although most had returned to the bowls of slop that sat in front of them.

Her eyes connected with a young girl with sad, desperate eyes. She thought of David and how his body had rotted away to almost nothing. These children weren't much better off.