Eric Brown: Season of Rot

He sat up, dropping his bare feet onto the metal floor of the lab and scratching his eyebrow. His back ached from using a lab table as a mattress.

Ever since he had gone into hiding a week ago, he hadn’t been able to shower or shave properly. It bothered him more than the dregs of shit food he’d been living on since he’d locked himself in the lab.

When the intruders first broke in, he had cursed himself for not repairing the outer doors. He should have done it as soon as he arrived, even before he brought the base’s systems online. But he’d thought the world was dead, and to save time and energy he’d decided to turn on systems as needed. The intruders had taken him so off-guard, there was no way he could’ve sealed them out. So he’d taken what precautions he was able to, locking down security systems, disabling a few key systems—or at least turning them off again—and grabbing what he thought he’d need to survive until they were gone. Kyle had never imagined they would take up residence in the base. In the heat of the moment, he’d only seen them as looters, not refugees, and now he was paying the price.

He dressed and began to search through his dwindling rations for something he’d be able to stomach for breakfast.

Suddenly a voice filled the room, startling him so bad he dropped the granola bar he’d just dug out of the pile.

“Hello,” the voice said. “My name is Michael Stevenson. We mean you no harm. Please use the base’s intercom to respond if you can hear me.”

Kyle raced to the lab’s door and snatched up one of the two M-16 rifles propped against the wall.

They’d found him. Though he had hoped he wouldn’t be discovered, some small rational part of his brain knew this would happen.

“Hello. Please respond if you can hear me,” the voice continued. “My name is Michael Stevenson. I am a former director of this facility. Please, we mean you no harm.”

Kyle stood by the lab’s door, knuckles white from his tightening grip on the rifle. His eyes darted to the intercom panel on the far wall.

Had they been able to access the base’s security measures despite his efforts, or were they merely guessing that someone else was here with them? Were they military or civilian? From the glimpses he’d caught of them on the exterior cameras, he was inclined to guess the latter, but if so, why would they have a former director with them? Was the voice lying about who he was? If not, then Kyle knew he was screwed. If the man was who he claimed to be, then surely they’d repaired the scanners and would know exactly where he was at all times, even if he made a run for it. Worse, they would know he was alone. Likely there were armed men already waiting on the other side of the door.

Guessing he had no other option, Kyle set aside his rifle and walked towards the intercom panel.

“Still nothing?” Darren asked.

Mike scowled at him. “You’re sitting right here. Have you heard anyone?”

“Maybe the intercom in that lab just isn’t working,” Benji said.

“I very much doubt it.” Mike pressed the intercom button again and started to repeat his message. “Hello,” was the only word he got out before another voice came over the comm.

“I heard you the first few times. What do you want?”

Mike blinked, taken aback by the eerie, calm sound of the voice. “Well, for starters we’d like you to come out and talk with us face to face.”

“I’m sure you would,” the voice answered. “The question is, if I open the door to this lab, are we going to talk, or are your men going to put a bullet in my head?”

“We mean you no harm.” Mike tried to sound reassuring.

“You’ll have to forgive me if I don’t take your word on that.”

“What’s your name?” Mike asked.

“Kyle.”

“Okay, Kyle. If you don’t come out, we will eventually find a way to open the door or cut through it. Things could go badly for both of us if it comes to that. If you’re afraid we’re military or raiders, we’re not. We’re just people who need a place to stay. We’re simply trying to stay alive like you are.”

“Answer me one thing, Michael Stevenson: have the rats won?”

Mike looked at Benji and Darren, then turned back to the intercom. “Yes, the rats won. We haven’t seen any other survivors or heard any comm. traffic in a long time. I believe the human race is nearly extinct.”

Kyle’s laughter echoed through the intercom’s speakers. “That’s not what I meant. I meant did they win the war?”

Mike glanced at Darren for help, but Darren shrugged.

“Didn’t you hear me?” Mike asked Kyle. “The human race is almost wiped out. I’d call that a victory.”

“Okay,” Kyle said suddenly, struggling to control his amusement. “You’ve convinced me. Tell your people to stand down. I’m coming out.”

In the corridor outside of the lab, Warren, Brent, and Michelle watched as the heavy metal door parted from the wall and slid open. Behind it stood a man who appeared to be in his early thirties. He was thin, and unwashed brown hair topped his head. His features, accentuated by glasses, were narrow and bird–like, yet attractive in a geekish sort of way. He carried himself with an air of confidence that usually came from military training, but his clothes were civilian and dirty, as if they hadn’t been changed in a while.

The man held out his empty hands in front of him. “I come in peace,” he said, grinning. “Take me to your leader.”

Brent and Michelle couldn’t help but laugh at the absurdity of his statement.

Warren, however, didn’t laugh. “Turn around and put your hands on the wall.”

“Or what? You’ll shoot me? My name is Kyle, by the way. Nice to meet you too, though I didn’t catch your name.”

“It’s Warren. Now I suggest you do as I say before you start to piss me off more than you already have.”

“It figures people like you would survive,” Kyle said, appraising Warren. “You’re a hardcore soldier and trained killer, aren’t you, sport? I know your type.”

Warren gritted his teeth. “I’m not going to ask you again.”

“No, I imagine not.” Kyle turned and placed his hands on the walls, legs spread.

Warren moved in and patted him down for concealed weapons. When he saw that Kyle was clean, he stepped back.

Kyle turned around, looking over Michelle’s body and drinking it in. He bowed to her. “My dear lady, perhaps after the guns are put away I might learn your name.”

Michelle noticed she was still pointing her gun at him and lowered it. “Michelle,” she said apologetically.

Kyle shot a parody of a salute at Warren and said, “If you would be so kind as to lead the way, I believe your boss is waiting on me.”

Warren led Kyle through the complex, leaving Brent and Michelle behind in an attempt to draw attention away from what was going on. So far only a few people knew about Kyle’s presence and Warren wanted to keep it that way until they knew for sure how things would play out. Luckily most people in the group kept to themselves or at least to certain cliques. Originally the convoy group had been so large and so hectically nomadic it was nearly impossible to get to know everyone. People were beginning to loosen up now inside the safety of the base, but still the odds were in Warren’s favor.

He and Kyle only passed a handful of people on their way to the control room, and no one seemed to notice anything out of place. Warren had left his rifle with Michelle, and his sidearm was nothing out of the ordinary; the group was used to him storming around the base with a gun.

Mike, Darren, and Benji were waiting on them as they entered. Mike stood up from his seat at one of the security consoles and extended his hand to Kyle. “I’m Doctor Michael Stevenson, but please call me Mike.”