Suzanne Robb - Contaminated - A Zombie Survival Novel

“I do not give a rat’s ass who is a traitor, who has been bought off, or whatever else you people are up to. All I want is a way out of here, now I am assuming the people you work for planned an escape.”

No one answered him and he lost it. Benson, pale as a ghost by this time and sloughing off bits of skin as he wheezed, laughed. Frank held his FNP to Benson’s forehead. “Tell me how you were going to get out of here.”

Benson smiled, slippery with saliva and a dark substance coming out of his eyes and nose. “They never planned for me to get out of here. I was hoping I could make it. They planted three people and I did my part. Now you need to worry about who the other two are, because that’s the only way you’re getting free.” Benson’s head slumped to the side as he died.

“Wait for it; I want to know the approximate time needed for reanimation.” Arthur counted the seconds off in his head, since he couldn’t see his watch through the suit. When he hit forty-seven, Benson stirred.

Frank put a bullet in his head and looked at the others. “Okay, we have two more people working for someone other than Sunset Inc., and as I stated before, I don’t give a crap, just get me the hell out of here.”

All eyes turned to Carson who held up his hands as he spoke, “All I know is my part is in progress; as long as this doofus stays alive, I’m good. Plus, from what dead man here said, the lab was destroyed so I don’t have to worry about that anymore. But I have no idea what the plan is after he’s been found. They might have an extraction team on the bottom level, or God knows what in place. These people are smart and very scary.”

Frank turned a sad look to Lightfoot. “I never thought…”

“You can’t be serious. You think I’m the other traitor? Get your head examined,” Lightfoot replied in a sad voice.

Frank glanced away with guilty eyes and caught Smith. “Don’t even look at me. If I was a spy or whatever it is you’re looking for, do you think I’d be travelling with that moron?” She pointed at Arthur.

Selena sidled up to Frank. “You know it is possible the third person is dead. They don’t seem to know one another, which would be smart in a set-up like that. We just need to use our heads and find a way out on our own.”

Arthur started to jump around. “I know, I know. On the last floor, we found a contaminated that didn’t fit in. He was wearing a black suit just like yours, but he had on a climbing belt. I think they had an alternative way in here, so why can’t we use that as a way out?”

Frank thought of the nasty that tried to grab him and the repelling ropes he’d found a few levels up. Now that they had a plan, all he needed to do was figure out how the hell to get back up there so he could put it into action.

“Good call, Dr. Covington, now who knows how to get these doors open?”

Carson raised his hand. “I have some Semtex in my bag, if you use a small amount, it might work.”

“With the gas leak, we’d just blow ourselves up.” Frank examined the handle of the door when the lights started to flicker. He didn’t remember if they were always lit, or if the constant on and off was something he’d adjusted to.

“Odd, there’s a pattern, but it seem to be different on each level,” Arthur murmured behind Frank.

“What are you mumbling about back there?” Frank asked. At first, he was going to ignore the doctor, but something about what he said seemed important, a reminder of something he’d noticed, but pushed aside as all the chaos occurred.

Arthur didn’t respond, so Frank turned and looked at him with a raised brow. “Hey, Covington, what the hell are you talking about?”

Arthur glanced around nervously, and then spoke in a hushed tone. “I’ve been watching the lights on each level, and if you pay attention there seems to be a pattern. I don’t know Morse code, so I can’t verify, but it was just a thought…never mind.”

Frank watched the lights and after about a minute and a half, he realized the doctor was right. He grabbed a pen from one of the recreation desks and an old book of crosswords and wrote down the letters. L-E-V-A-T-O-R-O-N-L-E-V-E-L-E-I-G-H-T-S-E-C-U-R-I-T-Y-O-V-E-R-I-D-E-F-O-R-E.

“Good job, Covington, you’re not as much of a tool as I thought you were. Someone’s definitely sending a message. The controls for the security override are on level eight at the elevator.”

Arthur cleared his throat. “Or they might be leading us to our death, if you remember that floor is rigged with Semtex.”

Frank nodded. “I know, but this is the only lead we have. Lightfoot, give me Carson’s bag.”

Lightfoot tossed the bag over and Frank dumped the contents. He grabbed one of the smaller explosive devices and worked fast to open it. He removed the smallest bit of the sticky substance and put it between the door and jamb.

Next, he reattached the small detonator. “Okay, folks, cover yourselves. I have no idea how bad this explosion is going to be, but we don’t have time to waste.”

Carson and Lightfoot worked to flip the couch over and took cover with Selena and Smith. Frank crouched in the corner with Covington underneath a metallic desk. Frank counted the seconds in his head and when he hit three, he lifted his hands to his ears.

A second later, the explosion ignited the gas in the room and blew the door into the stairwell. A fireball hung in the air over them for a several seconds then died down.

Frank realized the couch was blazing and ran over kicking at the first leg he saw to get them moving. No one could hear. The ringing in their ears from the explosion and thunderclap from the gas igniting was far too loud. Frank made a sweeping gesture with his hands to get people out into the stairwell.

Lightfoot led Carson, Smith and Selena, followed by Covington then Frank. He heard Lightfoot say something but missed it, his ears still not back up to par. Another blast, this one knocking everyone to their feet and causing cracks in the wall, the stairs to crumble and give out.

A massive dust cloud forced its way into the tiny stairwell and the sounds of people crying out in pain, as well as coughing echoed off the walls. Frank hoped no one busted their mask, and it was just an abundance of small dust particles overwhelming people’s lungs.

He moved and let out a hiss of pain when he discovered his arm was pinned beneath a chunk of concrete from the ceiling above. A small puddle of blood was forming and he knew he needed to get it taken care of soon. He felt light headed. How many survived?

“Let’s do a head count, everyone say your name and if you can move or not,” Frank ordered.

“Carson, I’m good, just a little shaken, can’t see much of anything.”

“Selena, I’m okay, think I twisted my ankle, but otherwise fine.”

“Smith, concussion I think, but okay.”

Frank waited another minute before he accepted Lightfoot and Covington were either too hurt to reply, or dead. “Okay, I need someone to get over to me and help me free my arm.”

Debris tumbled and rumbles echoed throughout the tiny stairwell. Frank assumed the damage was still happening on the lower levels as more and more of the structure gave way.

Carson stood over him with a grin on his face. “This is probably gonna hurt, Boss.” With a massive amount of effort Carson pushed the cement off of Frank’s arm. As the blood flow started back up, the appendage throbbed so intensely, he threw up in his mask. The smell nauseated him even more and the fact he couldn’t take it off to empty out was the only reason he was able to keep the rest down. Carson patted him on the back then removed a strap from his backpack and tied a tourniquet above the elbow.

“Sorry ‘bout that. The bone is broken, but it looks like a clean break. Want me to set it for now?”