Zombies Begin (Zombies Begin Series Book 1) (10 page)

Fuller knew security would be on top of them in a moment. He grabbed the almost spent tear gas cartridges, with smoke still flowing, and ran over to the stairwell entrance. He opened the steel door and peered down the dark stairwell. He could hear the tactical team quickly advancing up the concrete steps. They were going to be on top of him very soon. He had to delay them getting through the door. He tossed the two cartridges into the stairwell, grabbed the interior door handle and twisted it off, then slammed the door locked behind him. The only way they would get through would be to smash through the door.

Fuller returned to the elevator and clicked the button to open the doors. Santiago still subdued inside. He scooped her up in a fireman’s carry and ran for the main glass doors. On his way out of the elevator he hit the number five button to take the elevator up again. He wasn’t sure if his trick would work on security, but it could at least divide their forces.

The thick glass doors were locked. It wouldn’t be easy to bust through them. He kicked against the doors a few times. It just left boot scuff marks. The thick glass was no doubt bullet proof. He was just making a lot of noise. Time was running out.

A water cooler near the security desk caught his eye. He removed the five-gallon bottle, pouring it over Santiago and himself to rinse their eyes. Santiago spluttered and coughed to clear gas from her lungs. Her head ached and her body felt weak. They could hear security trying to knock down the door.

Fuller grabbed the security guard’s stool and charged the front door with full force. The doors shattered on impact. Glass scattered everywhere, covering him. Security alarms sounded.

He slung Santiago over his shoulder again. She coughed.

He looked down at his box of pills and the water bottle. He had promised Santiago he’d take the drugs, but the water was more precious to him. He shoved a couple of bottles of pills in his pockets, grabbed the water and bolted out the front door with Santiago still coughing, while riding over his shoulder. Several gunshots rang out as the security team blew the hinges off the steel door.

The cold night air smacked Fuller in the face. He ran across a visitor’s parking lot and onto the nice soft grass surrounding the building. The grass was wet, the air crisp. For a second he could smell freedom.

He could see a small road that lead to a security gate. A large, ten-foot chain-link fence, with barbed wire around the top, wrapped the perimeter. This place looked more like a prison from there than a research lab.

Fuller tried to make it as far from the building as he could, trying to take cover in the shadows of night.

Three security guards rushed out not far behind him. All they could see was an empty parking lot, lit by yellow lamps. Fuller hidden by the darkness. Following procedure, the tactical officers called for backup and radioed the entrance for full lockdown, due to the main building breach.

Fuller soon reached the large fence. He glanced back to see the security guards standing in the light, back at the main building. He didn’t have much time. He wasn’t going to be able to go over the fence with Santiago and the water. Santiago’s eyes were still burning. She was in pain. She struggled to breathe. He laid her onto the cool grass. She started to shake. Cold air cut through her wet clothes. Fuller gave her a drink and tried to rinse her eyes again. Water soaked her hair. He removed her white coat and then finished the rest of the water. He repositioned her over his shoulder. It wasn’t a gracious way to be carried, but it worked.

Fuller let go of his grip as he started the climb. Santiago held on with all the strength she could muster. It was slow going, but Fuller finally reached the top and threw her white coat over the barbed wire. He slowly climbed down the other side, bringing the coat with him, onto the hard dirt. In front of him was barren wasteland—a desert. He could barely see into the night, but he could see enough that there was nothing there except for rocks and dirt. No city, no one to help.

He grabbed on tightly to Santiago and sprinted into the desert. He ran and ran. The light and the sounds of the alarms ringing back at the facility faded into the distance. Fuller ran for as long as he could. He was free and was never going back. He would prefer to risk what the elements had in store for him rather than face certain death at the facility, not to mention what they might do to her for releasing him.

After covering several miles through desert terrain, he started slowing down—his energy was waning. He couldn’t keep up this pace for much longer. Santiago was getting colder. The temperature was dropping fast.

Fuller found a few large rocks clustered together. They gave off some warmth from the hours of sun exposure during the heat of the day. He positioned Santiago against the rocks to keep warm, and snuggled in next to her to share body heat.

Several tactical team members moved down the dark corridor. Red laser beams from laser sights pierced the thick air. It was full of tear gas. The team had on full gas masks and night vision. They moved in standard two-by-two formation, with their MP5s aimed. They systematically locked down and cleared each room as they went. They were well rehearsed, having drilled this many times in the past. They were led by Becksworth, head of security, and he favored the twelve-gauge shotgun. He was large and built like a brick. With short, dark hair, he looked like your standard government issue.

Alarms echoed loudly, blanketing the entire facility. Full lockdown was underway.

Security teams scattered everywhere like ants protecting their nest.

The power had been shut down to give the team the best possible chance of taking down the enemy. Only blue emergency lamps and weapon flashlights formed pools of light.

The tactical team slowly moved along the walls of the corridor, with Becksworth in front.

Becksworth quickly raised his right arm with a clenched fist—motioning his team to stop—his black tactical glove barely visible in the dark.

He slowed his breathing to focus on a noise from around the corner—the noise of a wild dog gnawing on bone. But this wasn’t a wild dog. Becksworth just barely peeped around the corner. The wall cutting his face in half. Shotgun ready. What he saw made even the veteran team leader almost dry heave.

Squatting down over a dead staff member was Willard. He fed on the dead body. Blood splatters covered his contorted face and arms.

Willard’s blood-covered head jerked up to spot Becksworth—like a wild animal sensing fresh prey.

Several gunshots rang out. Willard’s lifeless body hit the ground. Becksworth didn’t mess around. He was a shoot-to-kill kind of guy. He moved in briskly toward the lifeless body, his gun still trained. A shell casing flew out as he cocked his twelve gauge, ready for the next shot. Several team members moved with him for back up. They quickly scanned the area, looking for any more infected freaks of nature.

Becksworth kicked Willard’s body to ensure he was truly dead. To be sure, he squeezed off another shot into Willard’s bare chest. The corridor looked like a warzone. Dead patients and staff lay spread out over the floor. The security team fanned out to see if there were any survivors.

The lights flickered back on.

None of the infected patients survived the war. Some, still strapped to their beds, had been finished by the gun rather than the needle in the arm.

The pale face Henricks walked through the corridor, stepping over a few of the bodies with his shiny dress shoes. He was more concerned about getting his fancy suit dirty than for the amount of dead bodies on floor. His cold, light blue eyes looked around, surveying the disaster.

He approached Becksworth. “I don’t see our beautiful doctor or Mr. Fuller in this bunch. What about the other escapee?” Becksworth shook his head “no.”

“I don’t want any more mistakes.” Henricks stared up at Becksworth. “I want all three contained. Give me a full clean. And take care of Johnson at the same time.”

Becksworth knew exactly what a full clean was. This was a level-three compound. He motioned to the security team to move.

***

Doctor Johnson sat in his chair, half slumped over his desk. Out cold, breathing loudly.

He was still wearing his white lab coat, and his empty bottle of wine lay beside him on the desk. His office had been stripped of any research material and looked very sparse.

BAM! Suddenly his office door was kicked in. Johnson didn’t move. Becksworth entered with his gun ready. Without hesitation he fired several shots into the unconscious Johnson. His lifeless body slid off his chair and hit the floor. Dead.

***

It was a beautiful clear night. Stars littered the night sky. The air was cold and crisp. Under normal conditions it would be a perfect romantic evening. But Fuller and Santiago were being hunted. They contemplated if they would make it to sunrise alive.

Santiago could feel the effects of the tear gas finally wearing off. She was also aware of Fuller pressed up against her. She could feel the warmth of his body shielding the cold night air, as they lay nestled together against the warm rocks. It felt comforting and reassuring but, at the same time, just moments ago he had been her patient, kidnapper—and now rescuer. Resisting the intense urge to enjoy the warmth, she edged forward slightly, creating a small gap between their bodies. The gap immediately filled with cold air. It was the professional thing to do.

Realization started to sink in for Santiago. She placed her head between her two hands and stared at the expansive blackness. She found herself in the middle of a desert, her career was over and her car was stuck back at the medical facility. Her mind was full of regret. She wanted to go home, fall asleep, and wake up from this bad dream. In that order.

She looked back at Fuller, resting against the rocks behind her, and noticed the goose bumps on his arms. Her eyes traced up his shoulders to his face. Fuller looked up at the night sky, enjoying his freedom. He was one of the reasons she was out there in the middle of the night, cold and tired.
Did I do the right thing?
she thought.
Was he worth saving? Is he going to switch in a heartbeat and attack me like a wild animal? Or would the tactical team put a bullet in both of us first?
A cold breeze, or perhaps nerves, made her shiver.

“Beautiful night, isn’t it?” said Fuller, breaking the silence.

“I don’t think we have time to admire it.”

“Ahh yeah, well, I guess we better keep moving.”

“Where?” she said, pushing back her hair into a ponytail with both hands. “Where are we going to go? The closest city is seventy miles away. You can’t just call a cab.”

***

Large helicopter blades started to rotate, picking up speed. Becksworth climbed into the chopper with a couple of tactical team members. They were on the hunt to find Fuller and Santiago. The chopper soon lifted off the top of the medical facility. Down on the ground, three armored four-by-fours pulled out at the same time, one headed along the road while the other two headed full speed into the desert. Their heavy tires bounced over the large rocks. They were covered in large spotlights. The spotlights broke through the cold night air.

The military chopper led the search, with the two four-by-fours following close behind on the ground. A dust trail blazed behind them. The chopper had a huge search light mounted underneath, like a rescue chopper, only it wasn’t there for rescue. It was there for search and destroy.

Becksworth shouted his orders over the radio. “Shoot to kill, gentlemen. We’re taking no prisoners.”

The desert was vast, with many rocks, small hills and scattered dead trees. Searching at night for two escapees was going to be a difficult challenge—a needle in a hay stack. The men knew that the two hadn’t gotten too far and they would close the distance quickly. They had already penned a perimeter on a map, estimating the maximum distance they could have traveled on foot.

The chopper veered off to circle the search zone. The two four-by-fours stayed the course, heading in the most logical direction Fuller and Santiago would have traveled.

***

Santiago got to her feet. She didn’t really want to be around Fuller anymore. She walked a small distance away, keeping her back to him. Fuller wasn’t sure what game she was playing. It wasn’t time for reflection. They had to keep moving and continue to get as far from the facility as possible. He knew they would be on top of them soon. They weren’t just going to let him walk away as a free man.

“Do you know where the main road is from here?” Fuller said.

“I don’t know where here is! Look around! Do you know which way is north?!”

Fuller looked to see if he could see the Northern Star, but he wasn’t an astronomer, only a lowly financial analyst. He had no clue what he was looking for. All the stars looked the same to him. They were extra bright in the desert sky. Even if he did know where it was, he didn’t think Santiago would really care. She wasn’t really looking for an answer. She probably knew he didn’t have a clue anyway.

Fuller scratched his head. “We need to at least get further away and then make a plan in the morning.”

A rumbling noise in the distance broke their conversation. The noise grew louder, moving toward the two escapees. Lights from the two four-by-fours could be seen in the distance, bouncing over rocks, moving at high speed across the barren terrain.

Each four-by-four had four heavily armed men in tactical gear. The lead four-by-four’s driver was struggling to see where he was going, even with all his mounted spot lights. There wasn’t a road to follow. They were heading straight into wilderness, with no clue where Fuller and Santiago were.

The lead driver radioed the helicopter. “We can’t see shit out here! You better give us some damn eyes!”

The pilot maneuvered the machine toward the two distant four-by-fours. Fuller and Santiago got low to the ground behind the rocks. They weren’t sure what to do. Should they run, or stay and hide?

The helicopter reached the vehicles in a matter of minutes. It flew ahead a little, casting its bright light just in front of them. Heading in this direction, it wouldn’t be too long before they would be on top of Fuller and Santiago.

Santiago started to hyperventilate. She knew who those men were. She had seen them in drills and even passed some in the corridors. They were there more for Fuller than for her. She was confused. She gave a look at Fuller. She had gone far enough for him. She had tried. This was her out. She would prefer to face the discipline than face the wild desert and most likely die, or worse yet—a bullet in the head.
I have to pick the best chance of survival
, she thought.

She stood up on the rock, waving her hands in the air to get the vehicles’ attention. She glanced back to see what Fuller would think of her surrender. He was gone. He had slipped away in the moment.

Heavy wind from the chopper’s blades blew sand into Santiago’s face, as it hovered close. The big spot light lit her up like daylight. She shielded her eyes with her arm. Her hair and clothes slapped around in the strong wind. The chopper moved low to her, as the two four-by-fours closed in. The vehicles screeched to a stop, sending a cloud of dust over her. The men jumped out with their guns trained on her.

“Don’t you move!” one of the men shouted, sighting his MP5.

Santiago tried to keep her hands in the air and shield her face from the wind, sand and lights. The team spread out. Some keeping their guns on her, the others scanning the area for Fuller. The men were hesitant to shoot Santiago. They had received “shoot to kill” orders, but this was a beautiful young doctor standing helpless on the rock. She had already surrendered. They didn’t want to shoot her in cold blood.

Santiago yelled out, “I’m alone. He’s gone.” Her voice was drowned out by the immense noise.

Becksworth watched on, waiting for the kill shot. It didn’t happen. The men on the ground looked at each other, waiting for someone crazy enough to pull the trigger. This was a doctor they were all very familiar with. Not a terrorist or complete stranger. Some had even checked her out when passing in the corridors at the research lab.

“Take the shot damn it!” Becksworth’s voice crackled over the radio. It was hard to hear with the chopper overhead and the wind in their ears. Still no one was game enough to take the shot. Becksworth was clearly getting frustrated. He indicated to the pilot to get closer. He removed his rifle, ready to take the shot himself. The pilot did as ordered and moved the chopper closer to the ground. Becksworth slid open the large side door and positioned himself for the shot. Santiago saw Becksworth take aim. She knew who he was—arrogant son of bitch. She had never seen him smile and had only ever witnessed him verbally beating down men during drills at the research facility. Most likely he lived alone. Ate canned stew while cleaning his guns at night, ready for hunting on the weekends with his pit bull.

They weren’t going to take any prisoners. Santiago froze with fear and closed her eyes. Everything around her seemed almost silent. Like the volume had been turned down, slowed down; even the sound of the chopper blades seemed slowed and distant. The kill shot was coming.

Becksworth controlled his breathing and lined up the shot. He could see her pretty brown eyes as the cross hairs covered her right eye. He didn’t really think about a life. It was just a job. Born to kill. Men on his team who didn’t share this vision were simply gutless and shouldn’t even be on his team. His index finger moved from safety position to trigger.

Out of nowhere—behind the team of ground men—Fuller ran full speed, jumping up the back of a four-by-four. He ran along its roof and leaped into the air, launching himself higher than any natural man ever could. He crashed into Becksworth, hanging out of the chopper. Becksworth took the kill shot as Fuller connected. They slammed back into the cabin.

Adrenalin rushed through Santiago’s body as she dropped to her knees. Everything spun. She felt nothing. Numb.
This is what it feels like to die
, she thought.

She pulled her hands from her face, anticipating them to be gloved in deep-colored blood. But there was no blood, only desert dirt. Her hands shook uncontrollably.