Suzanne Robb - Contaminated - A Zombie Survival Novel

Instead, he was taken by surprise when the lab rat broke the handle and jammed one of the halves into the back of one of the creature’s heads. The splintered end protruded from the nasal cavity with ample amounts of grey matter.

The second one, less than four feet away from where Dixon now stood, opened its maw and let out a moan. Scared, it was calling others. Dixon put a bullet in the center of its forehead. As it fell to the floor, the head cracked open, leaving a slippery mess on the floor.

“Dixon, you only have like five shots left. How the hell do you plan to get to the end of the hallway? This area had a lot of people at the time of the explosion. If we’re operating on the premise they’re all contaminated, we need to think outside of the box,” Benson said.

“Fine, the rest of you look in the closet and see if there’s anything you can use as a weapon,” Dixon ordered and questioned why Benson was remaining so calm.

He kept an eye on the other end of the hallway, as they rattled around, making too much noise for his comfort level. He eyed the fire hose and went over to it. Inside was a nice and shiny sharp axe. He debated for three seconds before he smashed the glass with the butt of his gun and grabbed the wooden handle.

A few practice swings later, he felt comfortable enough to use it. He holstered his Desert Eagle and joined the others. A broken mop handle for Benson. Smith held a thick length of pipe left over from construction, and Covington stared awkwardly at the hammer in his hands.

Dixon wondered how the guy made it through puberty, let alone middle age. Then again, considering what they were up against, he doubted they would make it to the next floor at the rate things were going.

With axe in hand, Dixon moved the group forward. Ten feet later, he saw a door marked Testing Room 1 , ajar.

He peered inside and felt his stomach flip at what he witnessed. A small group of people were kneeling over two bodies. Their protective suits were shredded, ripped to nothing more than ribbons. He felt his gorge rise at the ghastly sight as long ragged strips of flesh were torn from the stomach of one body and the thigh of the other, their vicious growls echoing off the walls.

The backup lights illuminated the grisly scene, making the blood soaked floor appear black. Someone knocked into him, causing the door to open further. He glanced over his shoulder and sneered at Covington.

“What is it? What’s going on in there?” the idiot asked.

Dixon moved to the side. “Have a look.”

Covington carefully peered around the edge of the door, ready to pull back should something happen. He screamed at the nightmarish scene, tearing the attention of the creatures away from what they were doing.

Covington moved away and Dixon slammed the door. He waited a full minute, counting the seconds in his head. On the other side, he heard scratching and moans, but the door never opened. Was it because of the lock, or were these things too stupid to operate a handle?

At that moment, the handle began to twist and the click of several other doors along the corridor began to open.

They were screwed. “Run!” Dixon yelled.

Arthur struggled to keep up with the group as he dodged groping hands and a few gaping maws set on taking a bite out of him. At the door to the armory, he watched Dixon struggle with the handle and then a puzzled look briefly crossed his face when the knob turned in his hand.

“Inside, now!” he yelled at all of them.

Arthur felt something graze his back as he fell into the room. A shot erupted from Dixon’s gun and the door slammed. The contaminated’s hand must have been in the way, because four decomposed fingers covered in the sticky fluids of death fell on his chest. Arthur swatted at them like a crazy man until each one came unstuck and landed on the floor.

“What’s going on out there? Why are all those people contaminated and not us?” Benson asked with a fear-laced voice.

Dixon ignored everyone, his eyes on the weapons displayed in front of them. Benson repeated his question and Dixon moved on to using the axe to break the hinges on the lockers to get at the items inside.

“Hey, Covington, you have any ideas on what’s going on? Because now would be the time to share,” Smith said.

Arthur let out a sigh, which only fogged, up his mask. First thing he wanted to do was take the damn suit off, but he wasn’t sure it was a good idea. So far, the only ones who weren’t sick were them, and they were in suits. The bodies in the test room were also protected, but had been overtaken was his guess.

A thought caught him. If the masks they wore protected them from what was in the air, why was he able to smell the nastiness of those around him?

“Smith, do you know how these suits work exactly?”

“They protect you, what do you think?” she snapped back.

“I get that,” he said in a patient voice. “What I mean is, the breathing apparatus, what does it do?”

“It filters the air of anything larger than a micron or something, basically nothing gets past it.”

Arthur thought a moment. “The people who are infected aren’t wearing suits.”

Benson chimed in, “Wait a minute, you mean whatever’s contaminating people is in the air?”

Arthur nodded, wondering why the man sounded as if he was about to have a panic attack. “I think so, why?”

“Crap, how much time do we have left?” Benson turned his back to Smith.

Arthur watched as the woman lifted a flap of material, exposing a small panel. Numbers ran across it.

“Little more than two hours,” she said with dismay.

Arthur opened his mouth to speak, but he was interrupted when Dixon chimed in.

“I know this isn’t the time, but we have more pressing matters to deal with. The only doors on the floor that were locked were the lab and emergency exit.”

“Of course they were, it’s protocol,” Smith cut him off.

“Listen, the explosion caused a breach in the ceiling. The sensors would have picked that up and put this place on a Level 5 Biohazard Lockdown. Every single door should be locked, instead they’re all open.”

Arthur stood. “That’s great then. We can get out of here quicker.”

Dixon shook his head. “Okay, for those of you with no survival instincts, whatsoever, it means that every floor is crawling with these things. I thought they’d be locked away and we might have to deal with only a handful, but that isn’t the case--”

“Wait a minute, how do you know these things are on every floor? We’re still operating under the assumption the ventilation system is blocking whatever is in the air, right?” Arthur interrupted.

Dixon glared. “We are no longer operating on that since the circulation system is not set to block such precise sizes as these suits, so as I was saying this also means that someone wanted to make sure Covington and his samples were locked away safely and the rest of the place was unprotected.” He grabbed an M4 Carbine and a Makarov off the wall and shoved several magazines into a backpack. “You all need to get yourselves armed and be prepared for some hairy situations.”

Arthur put two and two together and finally arrived at four. “You mean someone intentionally screwed up the wiring of this place when it was being built to create this opportunity.”

Dixon glanced over his shoulder but didn’t say anything, confirmation enough for Arthur.

“Then maybe the elevators are working as well. Wouldn’t that be the smartest and easiest way to get down here?” Arthur asked.

“The elevators are out of commission and no amount of rewiring could have taken that protocol offline,” Dixon replied.

Arthur watched Benson pick out an M4 Carbine as well as a Glock 9mm. Smith grabbed a Beretta, and to Arthur’s annoyance, the last M4. He went to the panel and felt something pressed into his hand.