Suzanne Robb - Contaminated - A Zombie Survival Novel

“Hey, boss, you should see this,” Lightfoot called out, hesitation lacing his words.

Frank made his way over to a small area for showering, to the right he noticed Newell and Carson talking in hushed voices, Grimwood loading up his pack. Frank sighed, knowing Carson was up to something and Frank would eventually have to deal with something unpleasant, like a double cross on Carson’s end. He’d been a problem before, but he was a damn good fighter so they kept him on. Frank had kept silent about the gambling debts to his boss, and wondered if trying to help his friend inadvertently made things worse for everyone, including this mission.

Lightfoot stood in the dark area with a strange expression on his face as Frank made his way in. Emergency lighting in a shower room was non-existent, so they were depending on the flickers coming in from the other room. Frank saw Lightfoot’s small flashlight and in what direction it pointed. One of the things was stuck in a glass shower stall. It just stood there and thumped against the latched door repeatedly. A trail of something was left in place, only to be washed down with intermittent sprays of water.

Frank pulled out his FNP-9 and motioned for Lightfoot to undo the latch. The smell caused both men to step back, and Frank had less than a second to spare before the thing was on him. He fired a round into its chest out of instinct, which did nothing. He moved back more to gain some room and punched it in the face with the butt of his gun. The nose broke with a loud crunch, fluids dripped out, and the left cheekbone caved in.

It still came at Frank. Lightfoot fumbled for his flashlight in the dark. Frank kicked out its knee, the snap of the joint echoed in the chamber, and Frank wondered how much abuse these things could take before they stopped. The damn thing hobbled toward him and in the beam of light, he saw the skin had swollen, distended from the exposure to the hot water. Frank swung at it again and heard its neck break.

Frank sagged in relief, but it was short lived when the only side effect of a severed spinal column was a slight tilt of the head. He raised his gun and put a bullet between its eyes. The body fell like a box of hammers and Frank took a moment to get his bearings. He glanced in the other stalls, but he didn’t find any surprises.

“Lightfoot, I think we need to take these things a lot more seriously. Whatever it is that infected these people could be spread in a multitude of ways, so keep your eyes open.”

“No kidding, let’s get out of here before I puke. This place gives me the creeps.”

The two men exited the room and filled their backpacks with magazines and other assorted items. Frank told them all to grab an extra flashlight for areas in which lighting was out completely. As they prepared to enter the stairwell, he mentioned what they were going to have to deal with next.

The door to John’s office burst open and he glanced up with an annoyed expression. “You better have answers for me, or you can get out.”

Barrows nodded. “Sir, I think we found out who played…I mean was on someone else’s payroll while working for us. His name is Louis Collins, and he’s currently employed with Simard Industries. The address indicates they’re only a few blocks from here.”

John’s brain sparked at the name. “Get Collins in here now.”

Barrows cleared his throat. “There’s more. I passed the picture around. It seems the man on Level 8 doesn’t work for us and we can’t identify him through any databases. As for what Dr. Smith and Watkins were working on, today was a trial test of something called TV-9. Files describe it as a vaccine for Alzheimers disease.”

“Good work, now bring me Collins.”

As Barrows scurried out of the room, John thought about his team inside. He didn’t have any idea what was going on, but it wasn’t good. The press was sniffing around, the smell of blood in the water. Incident reports from smaller homes around the compound were causing a stir.

He poured over the recordings, irritated they could not fix the lights inside. He scowled at how long it took the video links to come back online. They knew someone helped them, and while he wasn’t one to look a gift horse in the mouth, he wanted them off his back.

Fifteen minutes later, a knock on his door and Collins was brought in.

“Mr. Collins, I remember you. How nice to see you again,” John said with a deadly smile.

“Look, I don’t know what this is about, but I did my work for you and moved on. Why the hell are your goons kidnapping me?” Collins demanded.

“Because you did more than we asked. You helped someone else gain access to our systems and I want to know why, and exactly what they can do.” John said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I am no fool, and I hope you aren’t either. Can’t you see your boss is finished with you? He let us take you out of that office without so much as lifting a finger. Do you think he cares if we send you back?” John roared.

Collins shrank back. “Okay, it wasn’t a big deal. The guy told me he worked for the government and they had a paper and everything telling me they were legit. I set it up so they could access the cameras and the communications, but that’s it.”

“What about the data on the servers? Do they have access to that?” John yelled.

“No, they just told me they wanted to keep an eye on you.”

John stared at the pale man and nodded to Barrows.

“The computer files indicate that he didn’t receive any money before, during, or after the assignment. He might be telling the truth,” Barrows reported.

John stared at the flickering monitors on his desk. Gunshots were being fired and his people were in danger.

“Fine, get him out of here and send in reinforcements. I want our guys to have backup, and make sure they wear masks.”

With his office empty, John wanted to hit something. Simard was behind this, he knew it. Others had to be involved, but there was no time to find out who. All he could do now was damage control. More and more reports popped up on his screen about police disturbances near the facility.

A nitroglycerin tablet went under his tongue and he waited for it to dissolve and ease the pain. Time to create an escape plan. He pulled out his phone once again, and then put it away. The building they were in now was designed to keep out airborne pathogens when in lockdown. He needed to get his wife and Covington here before it was too late.

Covington would know what this mess was all about and help the team he had here to work on a solution.

“I can’t find him! Where is he? Do you think he was able to escape? Why wouldn’t he come for me?” Smith rambled as she searched for a familiar face among the dead bodies in the hallway.

Arthur was happy that only a dozen or so came out for them to deal with, and even happier when Dixon ordered them to clear the offices. They were a wealth of information and he shoved several important looking documents as well as multiple flash drives into his backpack pockets. He lucked out and found a small netbook with a fully charged battery. One way or another, he’d find out what the hell they were doing here.

One office in particular held interesting tidbits. The name on the door read Watkins. Arthur gathered several more data sticks, a tablet, a bag of pills, and when he found a locked drawer, he used the gun to blow the lock off. He’d always wanted to do that. Inside, he found envelopes with red stamps all over them; Top Secret, Confidential, For Perry’s eyes only, and on the last one, Must Read, Threat Imminent .

Arthur packed them away wondering what the hell this place was really being used for. He knew it only recently opened, so to speak, but he had a feeling several current projects were moved here so they were more secure, and from the looks of it, out of the public eye. Why else would people sign on to work underground?