Suzanne Robb - Contaminated - A Zombie Survival Novel

Arthur glanced toward Benson and decided he couldn’t hear him. “One of the levels we reached was swarming with contaminated. Dixon went in to take care of a small room so we could load up on weapons. I guess while he was in there something happened, he must have been infected somehow. Before it took control of him, Benson tossed him to a hungry horde so he could make a getaway.”

“Thanks.” Carson walked toward Benson and shoved him against the wall.

“Dixon was my friend, you prick, his job was to protect you, and you fed him to those things. You deserve to die.” Carson punched Benson in the stomach, and then kneed him in the face, cracking his mask.

Arthur watched as Benson struggled to keep his mask together. The others ran over and grabbed Carson by the arms.

“What the hell are you doing, Carson?” Frank asked.

“This guy handed Dixon over to the nasties while he was still alive, he deserves an ass kicking.” Carson growled.

“Lightfoot, hold on to him,” Frank said, “Benson, how’s the mask?”

When he lifted his head, two pieces came apart in his hand and bits of plastic fell to the floor. His face was red from holding his breath, but a second later, he sucked in a lungful of air.

“Dr. Covington, get over here,” Frank yelled.

Arthur glanced around as if making sure he was the person he was talking to. He walked over and stopped about three feet away.

“Yes…” Arthur said in a timid voice.

“Relax, I’m not going to kill you, but I need you to watch Benson for any signs of…you know…being infected.”

Arthur nodded. “You do know the only sign I’m aware of is rising from the dead at this point.”

A feminine voice chimed in. “Oh there’s lots, blood comes out of their eyes and nose, then they start to suffocate on it and die. Then they reanimate.”

The smile on her face made Arthur’s testicles crawl up inside of him. Who the hell was she? He moved away from her and focused on Benson. The man was pissed off and swearing a blue streak. Lightfoot held him in place, but Arthur guessed in a few minutes that something would happen.

A moan came from the kitchen area and Frank spun with his gun aimed. “Did we clear the prep area?” he asked the others.

No one answered him.

“Damn it, people, did we clear the kitchen?” Frank raised his voice.

Silence greeted him once again and Arthur could see the sag of his shoulders. “Fine, Smith, how good are you with that?” He pointed at the weapon in her hands.

“Good enough,” she said in a cocky tone.

“Wonderful, you’re with me. Lightfoot, you kill Benson if he dies and tries to eat anyone. Carson, you stay with the others and try to behave.”

Lightfoot pushed Carson onto a couch with a look that spoke volumes. Carson smirked back at him. Arthur stared at Benson who kept eyeing the door to go up, and then he was off.

Without thinking, Arthur raised his Sig and shot Benson in the leg. He jogged over to him and put the muzzle of the gun in his face. “Get back over there. You’re not getting away this time.”

Arthur caught Frank’s nod of approval from the corner of his eye. For some reason, this made Arthur feel better, though he would never admit it. He didn’t want to be the kind of man who felt good about shooting another human being. He trailed after the injured Benson and watched him closely for any indication that he was about to become a contaminated.

The crazy woman came up next to him with a smile he knew far too well, he was about to get manipulated. He stared at the floor with the hope less eye contact would limit the amount of information he gave up. The blood trail caught his eye as Benson dragged his leg. What should have been bright red from a fresh injury was dark in color and congealing fast, as if it were hours old.

“Excuse me, Dr. Covington, did you hear me?” she asked in an annoyed tone.

“What? No, sorry I didn’t. Do you see that blood trail? It isn’t right. He’s showing signs of being contaminated.”

The woman’s face paled and she pulled her weapon out. Arthur put his hand on it and lowered it so she shot into the floor and not Benson’s head.

“What did you do that for, we need to kill him before he kills us,” she said in a voice bordering on hysterical.

“You crazy bitch, what the hell is wrong with you. I’m not dead yet.” Benson pulled out his Glock, but Arthur knocked it out of the weak man’s hand easily.

“We need to observe him to see if anything else happens, we need the data” Arthur hissed.

“Scientists and their precious data, I’ll never understand it,” she said.

“I’m not a lab rat, dammit!” Benson yelled.

“You are now, and when the time comes, we’ll be whole lot more humane than you were to Dixon,” Arthur replied.

Arthur wanted to ask the woman what she meant about scientists, since she worked in a research facility. The gathering of information, no matter how small or inconsequential was necessary. If she didn’t understand it, what was she doing here?

They made their way back to the couch. Carson didn’t move to help them, so Arthur lifted Benson onto the couch with awkward jerky movements. When he finished, the woman grabbed him by the arm and pulled him several feet away.

“We need to talk. My name is Selena, you have to trust me.”

Arthur never liked hearing those words from a woman; from his experience nothing good ever came of it.

Frank was about to go into the recreation area and confiscate every damn weapon. All the noise the others were making just made his attempts at stealth useless. So far, they hadn’t run into anything, but there were noises. Strange sounds, which didn’t belong in a kitchen.

As he made his way deeper into the cooking area, he found a lingering nasty stuck on something by the stove. He raised his gun and was about to fire when he stopped as the realization of what the thing was caught on registered.

Smith, behind him, didn’t see the problem and put a bullet in the thing’s head. A pop sound was followed by the hiss of escaping air.

“You smell gas?” Smith asked.

Frank ran over and turned the valve, cursing under his breath when it broke off; it was one of those missions. He stood and looked around for any other nasties when a clawing noise from the walk-in freezer caught his attention.

He pulled the large handle and forced the door open in the hopes survivors were inside. However, no such luck, just another nasty chowing down on frozen ground beef. Frank closed the door and headed back to the main area.

Arthur and Selena were in a heated discussion in the corner. Benson was bleeding from a leg injury and didn’t look so hot. Carson taunted him with a gun, and Lightfoot appeared out of nowhere.

“Where the hell were you?” Frank asked.

“I was behind you, but wanted to keep an eye on both areas, just in case,” Lightfoot responded.

Frank accepted the answer not wanting to doubt his best friend. Selena caught his eye and smiled then walked over with Dr. Covington in tow. Frank wondered what that was about, again with the speculation. He forced his mind to stop and focused on the present. How was he going to get them out of here?

“Alright, everybody, we need to pick a way out of here. There’s a gas leak in the kitchen, which means no more gunfire in here. When we tried the doors to go back up we were on Level 1, so perhaps it was a glitch--”

“Actually, I don’t think so,” Arthur chimed in, “When we tried to go back, the doors were locked. It seems as if we’ve been forced to meet in the middle as it were. I believe someone wants this confrontation to occur.”

Frank gritted his teeth. He stormed over to the door going down and found it locked. He repeated the process to access the stairwell to go up and got the same result. When he returned to the group, the grimace on his face was obvious.