The Last Outbreak (Book 1): Awakening (21 page)

Moving quickly back to his friend, Ethan motioned toward the massive opening at the front of the bank. “Griffin, I’ll get him inside. Just get in there before we do and make sure there aren’t any surprises.”

Again on his feet, David clung to Ethan’s vest. Being dragged, the two-hundred pound man began vomiting blood. As the Feeders who were thrown into the bank emerged, he begged Ethan to leave him. “Go find Shannon, we all aren’t going to make it. Please, do it for me, do it for Carly. I’m begging you, I can’t go back to her.”

Reaching the partially demolished entrance to the bank and watching the truck disappear behind the ocean of bodies, Ethan pushed David inside, over to the wall, and held his shoulders pinned back. “I don’t know what you’re doing, but it’s gotta wait. Do you think you could do me a favor and stay alive for another few minutes?”

“It doesn’t look like I have a choice.”

The bank had obviously been overrun at some point earlier in the day, Ethan was sure of it. Desks were overturned, light fixtures smashed, and computer monitors lay facedown among the mess of Savings Account and Home Equity handouts. The most telling sign—the door between the bank’s lobby and the secured teller area had been torn from its hinges.

Rapid footfalls came from the out of the darkened interior and then Griffin appeared. He stood beside Ethan and motioned toward the rear of the bank. “Hey, there are voices coming from the vault. Maybe it’s the woman you’re looking for?”

David spoke, although his voice drifted off as quickly as it had come. “You can actually hear—”

“Ethan,” Griffin said, “what the hell is the matter with him?”

David was sick. Not unlike the flu that kept him out of school for the entire week of finals his senior year, but still different. His hands shook. He was just barely upright. The skin on his face and neck had gone from a light shade of pale to nearly translucent. His deep blue eyes were beginning to cloud over. And then there was the thick trail of vomit-blood running from the right corner of his mouth, yeah he was sick. Perfect timing.

“Flu, maybe—I don’t know? But, we really don’t have time for this… look.” Ethan pointed out into the street. The majority of the crowd continued to follow the truck away from the building, but not all of them took the bait. At least twenty, give or take a few, found the activity back at the bank more interesting than following the moving metal box on wheels, or maybe they were just lazy. Either way, going back out into the street wasn’t going to be an option.

“Griffin,” Ethan said. “You see any of those things in the back near the vault?”

“No, just the voices, I think. Either way, whoever’s back there is safe for now.”

“Okay, we’re gonna need to stay out of sight for few minutes as well. Hopefully it will give the ones out in the street time to lose interest and move on.”

Stepping away from the wall, David straightened up. He no longer walked with a limp, and started for the rear of the bank. Past the Branch Manager’s office, around the downed security door, and in between the teller’s desks, he squinted into the darkness, trying to get a clear image of his surroundings. Finding a place to sit, he flopped down into a rolling desk chair and began to cough.

Finished with their scan of the interior, and without another way out of the bank, Ethan and Griffin moved in behind the teller’s counter and knelt alongside their sick friend. After wiping the sweat away from David’s face and what remained along his friend’s mouth and chin, Ethan sat in silence, listening for the voices Griffin had described.

Nothing for a full two minutes, and with the lobby beginning to fill with Feeders, Ethan slid out from under the counter. Crouching, he pushed the chair and his friend into the hall and motioned for Griffin to follow. Ten feet from the vault door he said, “I’m going in.”

He didn’t wait for either man to question his plan or even respond. Ethan turned and crawled away from the counter. Rising, he moved to the opposite end of the hall and stood in the shadow of the massive vault door. Reaching for the inch-thick stainless-steel handle, he slowly pulled it open.

As light spilled out into the hall, Ethan stepped around the door. Not what he expected to find, the empty room held little more than the two hundred safety deposit boxes and a granite topped table in the back left corner. The voices, he’d heard them as well, but not from here.

“Ethan.”

He’d asked Griffin to keep all communication to a minimum, but as he moved back into the hall, he could see why his request had been ignored. Fifteen feet away, on all fours, his best friend crawled toward the vault. Slowly progressing out of the dark, David was closely pursued by two Feeders, and then Griffin, who was in the process of leveling his weapon at their attackers.

One quick shot to the head sent the first beast into the second, and then both stumbled forward into David. Coming from behind, Griffin struggled to make sense of the three bodies as David began to shout. “Leave me—just go.”

Starting back toward his friend, something over Ethan’s right shoulder stirred. A door opened and another source of light reached out and connected with what slipped from the vault. As Griffin moved in, stomped the second Feeder, and pulled David free, Ethan turned back toward the opening door.

Rick Norcross, the bank’s morning teller, emerged from the sparsely stocked supply room. Four years Ethan’s senior, the overweight, balding, father of two was followed out into the partially lit hall by Amy Hildebrandt. The newest assistant manager of First City Bank was a transfer out of the city and had only received her new business cards three days before.

Shouting incoherently as they ran, Rick appeared to not notice the others as he moved into the vault, and as Amy followed the older man inside, she begged Ethan to follow. As the two bank employees moved by, one last shadow emerged from the supply room.

As she did every other day, the woman running toward Ethan wore a red blouse and jet-black polyester slacks. She moved quickly in only her socks, and cried as her eyes fell upon the man she’d worked with for the last six months. “Ethan, thank God.”

Since his first day of employment with BXF, the closest contact he’d had with the distant blonde was handing her a manila envelope that had slipped from her overly-organized desk. He’d often wondered what it would feel like to wrap her five-foot four-inch frame in his arms. And as she leapt into his embrace, it felt different than he imagined. Amazing, but still not exactly what he had expected.

“Shannon, you’re okay. I’m getting you out of here.” Ethan didn’t know if this was true—he didn’t know anything, but that was the only thing on his mind.

Letting her go, Ethan watched as another six Feeders rounded the corner and started toward the vault. At the same time, Griffin had David back on his feet moving slightly ahead of the crowd. As they passed Ethan and turned into the vault behind Shannon, David tripped over the entrance and slid into the bottom row of safety deposit boxes on the right hand wall.

Ethan stood at the door and fired four rounds into the crowd as another three turned the corner. “Guys, I think—”

Griffin stepped to the threshold and grabbed Ethan by the shoulder. “Let’s go, we don’t have the firepower for this. Get in here.”

Reluctantly stepping back and into the vault, Ethan quickly holstered his weapon and moved to David. Sliding his friend up and into a seated positon, he began searching him for injuries from the last attack. David pushed him away and spit a mouthful of blood out onto the floor.

Slightly less coherent than he was out on the sidewalk, David lay with his back against the wall. Turning to the left, he attempted to reach out for Griffin as the door descended into its closed position. Next the sound of metal on metal as the twenty-ton door found its seal.

As Griffin stood to the right of the door, he scanned the interior control pad. Without knowing what he was looking for, he turned to the others who’d taken to consoling one another and said, “How do we lock this thing?”

No one answered. No one even looked up.

Turning back to the control pad, Griffin stared at the six rows of alpha-numeric keys and finally located the green
Auto-Lock
button. Before Amy, the newest assistant branch manager could stop him, Griffin pressed the button.

Thirty minutes had passed since they found themselves locked in the three-hundred-fifty square foot, custom made vault. The air had grown stale and although the power had been out for the last few hours, the backup generators continued to function, keeping the space at an even seventy-two degrees.

The group of six sat with their backs against the wall and detailed their individual stories of where they’d been and what they’d done before ending up at this point. The specific events were different for each person, but the theme remained the same across all six stories. Simply survive. Run, hide, fight, do whatever you have to do to survive. This was their new reality.

Ethan now sat with David, who continued to fade in and out of consciousness. With the others occupied at the control pad, he again watched his friend come back. “Ethan, you have to get out.”

“David, you’re sick buddy. You’re not thinking straight. We’re gonna get you out of here and get you some help.”

His voice now clear and increasing the volume, David said, “I’m not sick, Ethan.”

“You’re definitely sick my man, maybe the flu. And it looks like the fever has you a little confused.”

Pushing away from his friend, David slid into the corner. Reaching down, he pulled his right sleeve up into his armpit, revealing two separate wounds. Swallowing hard, he looked into Ethan’s eyes. “I’m not sick and there is no getting better. This is it for me.”

Griffin turned away from the others and stared at Ethan. “He’s bitten? When the hell we’re you going to let the rest of know?”

Ethan didn’t respond. He continued to look back at David and shook his head. “This can’t be. You never… I mean you didn’t even… when did this—”

David took a deep breath as the others moved away from the control pad and stood with their backs against the rear wall of safety deposit boxes. “In the hospital, when I fell into those tables, just before you came over. I was trying to pull my fat ass out of there, and didn’t notice one of those things was behind the glass case. He got ahold of my arm and there wasn’t much I could do. You should have just let me end it there.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Ethan asked. “Why’d you let us keep—”

“I needed to make sure Carly was safe. It’s as simple as that. And now I need you to keep your promise.”

“What?”

“Ethan, don’t make me say the words. You know what needs to be done here. Carly can never see me like that. I wanted to do it myself and you took that opportunity away from me. Now you have to do it. And get these people out of this room before it happens.”

“Uh, we may have a problem.” Amy moved back over to the control pad. “We aren’t getting out of here anytime soon.”

“Excuse me?” Ethan said.

“You see, when the vault door is locked from the inside, the only one who has the code to open it is the manager. And well, he’s obviously not here. That’s the way your boss had this thing built. He’s a bit of a control freak, only two people have the code to open it once it’s closed. Silvio Marquez and one other person.”

“Who’s that?”

“Your sister, Emma.”

“That’s it then, we all just die in here?”

“No,” Amy said. “The door is also set to reopen every weekday at ten after five. That corresponds with the end of your route and happens regardless of who’s managing the bank. So, at five-ten that door is going to swing open automatically. Whoever or whatever is still out there is going to be let in. Let’s just pray that those things get bored and walk away within the next two hours.”

Griffin stepped forward, his hand outstretched. He held a five-foot section of audio cable that was sitting just inside the door to the vault when he entered. “Ethan, I don’t think he has two hours. I’m sorry, but we need to do something right now to make sure that the rest of us aren’t in any danger.”

Sitting forward, David began to cough, but quickly recovered. “He’s right. I don’t have two hours. I know this. The pain in my arm is gone. So is the headache and the nausea. I can’t feel my legs and your faces are all blurred. It’s mostly just shadows and sound at this point.”

Closing his eyes, David continued. “There’s thing one you need know to me for it.”

Griffin looked around the room and said to Ethan, “He’s not making any sense, he’s delirious. We need to tie him up. Those people we ran across on the mountain, they we’re turning in a matter of minutes.”

Nodding, Ethan grabbed the audio cable from Griffin and moved to David. “I’ll do it.”

Griffin stepped back and watched as Ethan looped the cable tightly around David’s wrists. “Ethan, what do we do if—I mean you’ve got to—”

Finished securing the thick cable around his friend’s wrist, Ethan finally spoke. “Yes, you’re right, but I don’t know that I’m ready to end my friend’s life just yet.”

“Ethan,” Shannon said. “It looks like he’s already gone.”

“She’s right,” Griffin said. “You’ll be doing him a favor and making sure that the rest of us—”

“Wait.” David was awake, if only for the moment. “There’s something you need to hear.”

The others looked to Ethan as he stepped forward. “David, please.”

“Ethan I’m…” His words trailed off as he lurched forward and arched his back. Blood ran from his left ear and he quickly slid into a heap on the concrete floor.

Moving in next to David, Ethan dropped his head against his friend’s chest. The room went silent as he listened. Thirty seconds turned into sixty, which turned into five minutes. Nothing. Slowly pulling away, he brought his friend’s eyelids down and stood. “No one touches him. You all understand?”

“Do it! You know what’s happening to him, just do it. You’re putting everyone at risk.” Griffin now saying what everyone was thinking.

Ethan didn’t respond.

“Give me the gun, I’ll do it.” Griffin wasn’t backing down. Since entering the vault behind the two bank employees and pulling the door shut, he had yet to let up.

Ethan turned to Griffin as the others stepped back. “Last time, keep quiet! You’re the reason we’re stuck in here. I’m not going to ask you again.”

“Oh yeah I forgot, you’re the big shot with the uniform and the badge. So tell me, what’s your plan—huh?”

Ethan began to answer, but was cut short. “You do realize that I just followed you and the others in here. And with those—those things outside the door, you’re all real lucky I even thought to shut it behind us. If I hadn’t, you’d all be dead or worse,” Griffin pointed at David. “You’d be just like him.”

Turning away, he again focused on his friend. Sliding the pistol to David’s forehead, he dropped to one knee, grabbed the back of his head, and pulled him in tight. “You don’t deserve this. It should have been me.” Ethan leaned in and placed his mouth just outside his friend’s bloodstained ear. “I will get to Carly. I will get her somewhere safe. I promise you that.”

His friend’s body began to go rigid. Ethan felt the beast that was David beginning to struggle. Leaning away and starting to stand, what little remained of his friend was now and forever gone. The wounds along his right triceps oozed a yellowish-orange fluid that leaked out into the pool of coagulated blood surrounding their feet.

Peering into David’s eyes, they were unrecognizable as human. The remaining fragments of his friend were quickly losing the battle with what had taken hold. Beginning to growl, the beast now moving slowly toward Ethan wore his friend’s face, but was not him. Pulling at his restraints, the animal that David had become fought to free itself as the group all took a step back.

Twisting against the audio cable, his left arm gave way and the resulting sound of snapping bone reverberated through the cramped vault. The realization that David had just broken his own arm in an attempt to free himself hung in the air, but what appeared to put an exclamation on the moment was the fact that his friend hadn’t even flinched. He didn’t look at the injury and only stared across the room at the five unbelieving individuals.

Turning from the others and again raising his weapon, Ethan heard their gasps only just before he realized his friend was loose. David shot forward as if out of a cannon. He slammed headfirst into Ethan’s chest, sending both men to the blood-soaked concrete floor and the nine millimeter pistol drifting into the corner.

Shielding himself from David’s snapping jaws, Ethan pulled back his legs and kicked straight up. He drove his friend’s body back into the row of safety deposit boxes and twisted right in hopes of finding the weapon he’d just dropped. No luck, the only thing in his inverted field of view were the four others, now scrambling to either side.

As Ethan moved up and onto his knees, scanning the vault for his weapon, David shot forward again. Turning away, Ethan held out his right hand, trying to deflect the initial blow. He anticipated a direct hit and assumed that following the collision, he’d again be flat on his back. He pictured being torn apart without even the most remote chance of defending himself. This is where he figured his life would end.

Clenching his jaw, he twisted right as David lunged forward. Their bodies slammed into one another like two bags of wet sand, sending Ethan back and into the bottom row of safety deposit boxes, his head making contact first. Blinking through the pain, he attempted to take a deep breath, but failed. This was it, the end.

As his friend climbed on top and moved his way up toward Ethan’s face, his vision began to fade. Next, the low hum in his ears indicated that unconsciousness was close. If he had any hope of walking out of this bank alive, he needed to do something now. Only there was a problem. His arms were pinned down to the floor below.

With David now upright and his arms free, Ethan was only able to get glimpses of the battle he was losing. In between the shouts and screams, his mind waded in the shadows until it finally decided to give up. The last image to flash through his narrowed field was the nine millimeter he’d held to his friend’s head only moments before, and the glint of the barrel.