Kyle West - Origins

More Howlers poured from the open door, about a half dozen. Shots were fired, and one of them was felled. But two, one a man and another a child, snuck by and tackled Kris. She screamed as they buried their faces in her neck, ripping still-living flesh from it in quivering gobbets. Blood spewed into the air as her screams became bloody gurgles.

Yelling, Harland pulled one of the monsters off Kris as Anna came forward to sever the adult male’s head from its body with a clean, expert swipe. Lisa handled the child Howler with a look of revulsion on her face, stabbing it in the back of the neck with her combat knife.

In front of me Drake dealt with two Howlers. He pulled a javelin from his quiver and launched it. The javelin speared the head of the Howler, going clear through to the second, skewering them both.

I faced another Howler, a fat male with blackened veins on his pink and cadaverous face. His wide-open white eyes bored into mine as he gave a baleful roar. His hands grabbed my shoulders, causing me to drop my gun. I shook him off, reaching for my knife. I gave a few swipes, hitting only air. The fat Howler leaned forward, backing me into the wall. Desperately I slashed again, spilling his guts. The Howler fell to his knees. I kicked him with my boot, sending him backward to the floor. Samuel, after dispatching the last Howler still standing with a point-blank shot from his handgun, gave another shot to the sprawling fat Howler.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw that the downed Howlers were bloating. They would explode, coating everything in this room with purple slime infected with the human strain of the xenovirus.

“Run!” I yelled.

Kris convulsed on the floor as we all ran for the hallway to take shelter from the explosions. Drake was the last one out of the blast zone. As soon as he rounded the bend, two gushy plops sounded from the room, followed by several more. Walls of purple slime shot past, splattering against the brick and filling the room with a horrible reek that made me want to throw up.

We waited. When we were sure the bodies were done rupturing, we went back to survey the damage. Mangled, torn bodies littered the room, along with pieces of flesh, bone, and organ that had been propelled by the explosions. The stench was unbearable, one of raw sewage and organic rot.

“Kris…” Harland said.

Harland ran from us. We followed him back to the entrance to the bunker, ready for more of those things to come out. For now, that black entrance was quiet as the grave. Kris was still convulsing, blood coursing from the bite wounds on her neck.

Samuel looked grim. “There is nothing we can do for her.”

Harland was quiet, his eyes burning and unaccepting of the facts.

“She’s infected with the xenovirus,” I said. “She will turn into one of them.”

“Look,” Makara said, walking up with her handgun. “Let me take care of it. Before more of those things come out.”

Harland’s eyes narrowed at her with hatred. “Stay away from her.”

He turned to me.

“You. This is your fault. If you hadn’t opened that door…”

“Back off, Harland,” Makara said. “You don’t want me to get angry with you.”

Drake pulled one of the javelins from his back, arching his arm back.

“Stop!” Samuel yelled. Everyone turned to him. “Kris is gone. I’m sorry, but it’s the truth. How long have you been in the Great Blight? Surely you would know about the new strain of the xenovirus that targets humans. And from what you saw back there, I’m sure you know how dangerous it is.”

Harland said nothing, his eyes dark and vengeful. Anna stepped forward.

“Leave this to the pros,” she said.

With that, she arced her blade down in a blur. Kris’s head was promptly sliced off.

Harland roared, turning to Anna. Drake ran forward, grabbing Harland’s arms with his meaty hands.

“Boss,” he said in his deep bass voice, “calm down.”

Harland was livid. It looked as if he wanted nothing more than to murder Anna.

“I did what I had to,” Anna said. “She could have come back any minute as one of them.”

“Won’t she explode?” Makara asked.

I shook my head. “Seems they have to come back to life first. It’s when they get the white eyes that you’ve got to be careful.”

“How do you know that?” Samuel asked, eyes hard.

“Because my friend died before she turned. She…” It was hard to make myself go on. I tried not to think about Khloe, but it was hard. “One of those things bit her back in 108. She died, but I buried her before she turned.”

I left the rest unsaid. I didn’t want to bring that nightmare up again. I didn’t want to think of her buried in the harsh red sand outside Bunker 108 and moving underneath. I liked to think that she rested in peace, and was not one of those monsters.

“Well, I’ll trust you on that one,” Samuel said. “We’ll keep an eye on this body, and make sure nothing happens.” He eyed everyone, including Harland and Drake. “I need you two to help. I don’t know how many of these things are in here, but I need fighters. Are you two good to do that?”

“You’re going in there?” Harland asked. “After all of that?”

Samuel got in his face. “Don’t push me, Imperial. I will do whatever it takes to get my team and myself out of here alive. If you two want to be a part of that, I suggest you help out. You can grieve for your dead later, but everyone will be dead unless we can find an escape through here.”

Drake scowled, but looked to Harland for direction. Harland did not say anything for a long moment. He nodded grimly.

“Lead on.”

Samuel’s eyes narrowed. “We can’t let anything slow us down. They might break in upstairs for all we know.”

I did not want to question Samuel. I really didn’t. I couldn’t contradict him in front of these two. But if what happened at Bunker 108 was any indication, we had no shot at clearing this place out and finding what we needed.

“After you guys,” Harland said. “Drake and I will bring up the rear.”

“That’s fine,” Samuel said. “Just do your job.”

In a swift movement, Drake retrieved his javelin. The two bodies it had pierced crumpled further to the floor.

Harland gave a sneer of a smile, but Samuel ignored it, pressing himself into the darkness of the bunker.

We all followed.

My stomach twisted as we entered the dark Bunker. With the smell of rot intermixed with the sting of metal, it was hard not to think of that horrible night at 108 that had changed my life forever. The atrium looked nearly the same as the one in my old home. There was a half-circular desk close by the right wall. That’s where Deborah Greene would have sat, back in 108. Deborah was dead, along with everyone else in Bunker 108, my father and best friend included. I half-expected ghosts to float down the halls. I had to do my best to keep it together.

There was a thick metal door behind the desk. I knew what lay beyond it.

“Might not have to go too far after all,” I said. “That door leads to the armory.”

“Nice work,” Samuel said.

Makara hopped over the desk, and gave the door a try. The latch wouldn’t budge.

“Figures,” she said.

Harland had wandered from the group, and was shining his light on a directory on the wall.

“This might help,” he said. “If anyone cares to look.”

Everyone gathered around the map. This bunker was smaller than 108 — I saw that much. It had five levels — 108 had seven — but the layout was much the same. Cafeteria. Commons. Dormitories. An Officers’ Wing. Hydroponics and fusion reactor on the bottom floor.

There was one major difference — there were no labs. Instead, a long tunnel led to the edge of the directory, cutting off there. An arrow pointed upward, off the map. Beside the arrow was the word, “Hangars.”