State of Decay

soldiers. They weren’t going to let us get much farther, and Calliope, for whatever reason, was not slowing down.

One of them fired again, and this time it hit the bike an inch from my thigh, throwing sparks. It stared down the barrel, trying to get a shot.

There was no more time. They weren’t people; they were just revivors. I held on to Calliope with my left arm and drew my gun. I fired two three-shot bursts and the revivor spun, then fell onto the snow. A second one tried to grab me as we passed, and I fired a shot that sprayed black fluid out of the back of its skull.

“Cal! What are you doing? Slow down.”

I could see muzzle flashes coming from somewhere down the ramp. She braked, and tipped the bike so that it began sliding sideways toward the entrance, colliding with the last soldier and dragging it. We bucked over the edge of the ramp and through the entrance, into the dark and out of the snow. The bike slid, pinning the soldier and throwing sparks as the exhaust pipes met the concrete.

I lost my grip and fell off the bike, rolling across the ramp as the bike crunched into a parked car a few meters away. When I righted myself, I looked down to see a series of vehicles had been arranged to form a makeshift barricade in front of the entranceway into the factory. A group of revivors were pinned down behind the cars, firing at the soldiers who had taken cover behind the concrete pylons and were shooting back.

I looked over to the bike and saw smoke trailing from it. It looked like the pinned soldier took the brunt of the slide. Calliope was moving again. She pulled herself out from underneath the wreck.

“Cal, stay down!” I yelled, but she didn’t stop.

Bullets were spraying the barricade and return fire was punching divots into the pylons, scattering tiles and concrete dust. Stray shots buzzed through the air, glancing off the ramp behind us.

A roar filled the underground garage and the whole area lit up as I scrambled across the ramp toward her. Down where the fighting was taking place, one of the soldiers had stepped out from behind the pylon and turned a flamethrower on the barricade. Superhot plasma sprayed out in a directed cone and washed over the vehicles, peeling away the paint and causing the windows to blow apart. The upholstery ignited as the flames spilled over onto the revivors who were taking cover there.

As the underground was lit by the fire, I saw that all soldiers were armed with flamethrowers. They were dressed in protective gear that included a black rubber hood with shielded goggles and long aprons to protect them from the flames. While another jet of plasma washed over the barricade, I reached Calliope and pulled her closer to the side of the car. Who the hell were these guys?

“Get off me!” she grunted, pushing me away. There was a strange look in her eyes, almost like she was delirious.

“Calliope, listen to me,” I said, trying to get her to meet my eye. “What’s the matter? What’s wrong with you?”

Below, someone screamed, and when I turned I saw a figure engulfed in flames run out from behind the burning vehicles. Its flickering eyes stared out of a blackened face as it pulled off its long, burning coat and tossed it to one side. Several bullets punched through its torso as it ran for the pylons, and I could just make out the electronics and wires strapped around its chest before it met the group of soldiers.

“Get down!” I shouted, pushing Calliope onto her back and covering her head as the bomb went off. The sound was deafening as everything was lost in a bright white flash. Through the spots I caught a glimpse of debris, blood, and body parts shooting through the air as at least two soldiers were caught directly in the blast. Shrapnel rained across the side of our cover, and I saw an arm attached to what looked like part of a rib cage glance off the divider and tumble into the shadows.

“Cease fire!” an amplified voice shouted as the boom faded. “Stop! Cease fire!”

Chancing a look, I saw that the order was being given because there was nothing left to shoot at. The barricade was still in flames, but there was no further movement behind it. The soldier who had given the cease- fire looked over his men, taking stock. It looked like half of them were down, maybe more.

“File in,” he said, gesturing to the factory entrance. “We continue down.”

Stepping over the bodies, they quickly reorganized, ducked through the flames, and headed through the door.

“Let me up,” Calliope said, pushing me. I gave her some room and offered her my hand, but she batted it away.

“You have to get out of here,” I told her. She stood up, still a little shaky, and stumbled out from behind the car. The carnage was sinking in. Her eyes were wide.

She looked over the damage in front of her like she was taking the whole situation in for the first time. She took two steps, then got down on one knee.

By the time I realized what she was up to, it was too late. She picked up the gun she had found and was back on her feet.

“Hey!”

She looked at me for just a second, and her eyes looked scared, but at the same time there was commitment there. Whatever she intended to do, and for whatever reason, she meant to do it.

Without checking to see if the gun was even loaded, she sprinted down the ramp toward the factory entrance. I took off after her as she ducked past the flames and out the other side through the doorway.

The vehicles that had formed the barrier had been forced back by the blast, one of them tipped on its nose and leaning against the wall, and the other on its back. In the burning carnage, I could make out a boot and what looked like an arm with a long blade sticking out, but nothing else was recognizable. Between the blast and the flamethrowers, the heat was incredible. Holding my jacket up to shield my face, I ran past and made it through the entranceway.

Sean, are you there?

I’m here, but it won’t be private.

Who the hell are these guys?

Special Forces. Someone internal had them standing by.

Standing by for what?

Someone wants that place buried, Nico. Get out of there.

Inside, the corridor went left and right. The soldiers were down the right passage, filing onto an electric lift that led down to the lower levels. A metal door a few paces to the left was just latching shut when I entered.

That had to be her. As the lift carrying the soldiers started down, I pushed open the metal door into a stairwell.

I’ve got a civilian down here and I’ve got to get her out.

Nico, you’ve got Special Forces in front and another wave coming in behind you.

How long?

Minutes. They’re at radio silence, and they don’t know anyone else is there. I don’t know all the details, but the word is that they’re to erase any trace of that place. That’s going to include your civilian and you if you get in the way.

As the door shut behind me, I caught a glimpse of Cal one flight down, boots clomping as she barreled down the steps.

I know.

My chest burning, I followed her down.

Faye Dasalia—Factory Clean Room

Draped in the blanket, I followed my killer down into the underground facility, while behind us the sounds of destruction raged. He didn’t look back as he led me deeper, into near-total darkness. An icon flashed at the corner of my eye.

Adjusting light levels …