Suzanne Robb - Contaminated - A Zombie Survival Novel

Certain floors would now be “armed” in case anyone was trying to steal from him. Monroe was the only one familiar enough to send in, and if he was lucky, come out alive. John glanced at the time. A full three minutes had passed and he still had no visual. The one thing he wanted maintained under any circumstances was visual.

“James, why don’t I have visual, dammit?”

The empty room didn’t respond, but something about this didn’t seem right. He would take notes on what he saw and get James to investigate.

Frank eased his feet up on the seats next to him. A glass of 100-year-old Scotch swished in the glass on his stomach as the limo moved at a steady pace to the airport. His phone vibrated and he ignored it. The third time he glanced at the caller ID and almost fell off the seat when he saw the corporate number.

He cleared his throat and answered, “Monroe, what can I do for you, Mr. Hooks?”

Frank swallowed the amber fluid in one swig and grabbed the bottle to prepare for the bad news he felt coming. That idiot Covington did something; he just knew it.

“ I need you to turn around. A strike team will be landing at the airstrip in four hours. You need to have a plan ready to take them into the silo and protect the samples. The damage appears to be minimal, but I want eyes in there and the place up and running in seventy-two hours .”

The sound of his teeth grinding echoed in his head. “Sir, are you absolutely sure this is necessary?”

“ You know that place better than anyone; you have your orders now do it .”

The line went dead. Frank let his head fall back on the seat rest. When he got his hands on that idiot scientist, he was going to break his scrawny neck.

Arthur woke to his name being yelled, though it sounded funny and far away. Hands shook him and he motioned he was fine and he slowly got into a sitting position. Someone in a singed white suit moved from him to another victim.

Grabbing the edge of one of the examination tables Arthur pulled himself to his feet to see if there was anything, he could do to help. He walked over to the window of the observation room and tapped the person on the shoulder.

A response was not expected, since a good portion of their internal organs was spread across the display panel, the rest dripping onto the lab floor.

Arthur didn’t know if it was dust from the explosion, fog from his breathing, or something else that made it difficult to see. His hearing came and went in one ear, but the other seemed to be normal. A man came up next to him and reached inside the observation room. He ripped the nametag off the body and showed it to Arthur, it read Williams.

“If you find a body, take something that identifies who it is, that way we can notify the families.”

Arthur nodded; he looked down and saw the name of this guard was Dixon.

“Now, tell me what the hell happened. This room is part of a silo. The damn thing is built to take a nuclear attack and you did something with a bit of rock and took out half the goddamn floor.”

Arthur stammered as he tried to clear the cobwebs from his mind. “I don’t know. I ran some tests and thought there had to be an error in the weight versus density readings. Something inside made them lighter, but there were also elements that reacted with the light. I have no way of knowing exactly what happened without studying them more.”

Dixon laughed darkly. “I don’t think you’re going to be studying anything but your bellybutton when you get out of here.”

Arthur had to agree. This was a huge blemish on his record, and Sunset Inc. was sure to cut him loose. The best he could do was to be useful. He went to a body splayed in the corner of the room. From the size, he knew it was the other guard. He hoped it was the mean one. Checking for a pulse was difficult due to the suit, but when he yanked on the shoulder, he realized he would not find one.

The man’s face was half melted to the floor, his mask seared to his forehead. His stomach was split open by the edge of a now warped filing cabinet. The blood flowed freely and Arthur felt the warmth around his knees. He felt the gorge rise in his throat and he positioned his hands to remove the upper portion of his mask. Small but strong hands stopped him.

He turned and read the nametag, Smith. “I need to get this off,” Arthur pleaded with the lab assistant.

“Not yet, we don’t know if any contaminants were released into the air.”

“And we won’t know until power comes back on and that could be days,” Arthur countered.

Smith opened her mouth to say something, but stopped, a look of fear crossed her face. Arthur turned his head in the direction where her eyes were transfixed and saw the body of the guard twitch. He backed away, slipping in the gore. The need to vomit was taking over, but he suppressed it.

He watched as the wrecked remains of the guard turned over and faced him. A dark fluid ran from its mouth when it moved its jaw in a chewing motion. Seconds later, it spit out what Arthur could only guess was part of its tongue.

Arthur and Smith both worked their way to the other side of the lab, Arthur crab walking backwards. When a hand reached out from underneath his desk to stop him, he could not stop the shrill scream from escaping his throat. Smith slapped him, but it didn’t stop the noise.

Dixon appeared and kicked him in the solar plexus, cutting off his air for a few moments.

“Is there a reason you’re screaming like a girl?”

Arthur pointed behind the big guard as he tried to force air into his lungs. A second later, a charred hand grabbed Dixon by the shoulder.

“Biggs, man, you okay?” he asked his friend.

Biggs stared blankly, his teeth grinding together. Slowly, he moved forward and let out a guttural moan.

“Hey, I need some help here,” Dixon said.

Arthur wondered if the man was dense. Couldn’t he see his buddy was beyond helping? Half his face was missing, he’d spit out his tongue, and now with a better look, Arthur could see one of his eyes was gone.

Dixon moved forward to help him and Smith went to help whatever was on the other end of the hand wrapped around Arthur’s ankle.

“Whoa, man, take it easy. I got you.” Dixon tried to help his friend to a sitting position, but he refused. “What the hell?”

All of a sudden, a flurry of movement and Dixon was fighting for his life. Biggs was trying to bite him, but the suit prevented him from getting hold of anything. With a well-placed foot, Dixon pushed his former friend, now attacker, back a few feet. Just enough time for him to pull out his Desert Eagle and put a hole the size of a bowling ball in the chest of Biggs and knocking him to the ground.

With a sigh, Dixon looked at the survivors, an indescribable expression on his face. Arthur wanted to say something consoling, but decided on, “look out behind you,” when he saw Biggs stand up once more.

Dixon turned. “How--” There was no time for him to finish the sentence as he put a round in the thing’s head, knocking it clear off the body. For a few moments, it stood there, spurting blood like a demonic fountain, but eventually it fell to the ground.

“I found Benson. He’s okay, help me dig him out of here,” Smith yelled.

Arthur wanted to tell everyone to be quiet. They were making too much noise and he had a bad feeling about what was going on.

Ten minutes later, they’d freed the other lab assistant and Arthur noted his suit was still intact. He let out a breath and tried to think of what their next move should be.

The four of them stood for a moment. Then Dixon walked over to Biggs and ripped off what was left of the patch with his name on it. A groan to the right caused the pressure in Arthur’s bladder to increase.