reason.
Only one reason, and of course, it was bad. This would be the ideal floor to set explosives on if you wanted to take out the major systems and cripple the facility. Frank tilted his flashlight down and two hands reached up, grabbing his shoulders. His chest was pulled against some jagged pieces of rebar and he felt the breath knocked out of him. He struggled to reach for his FNP as a black tongue licked its lips in anticipation. Frank brought the gun around and blasted the thing in the face.
He felt the coolness of whatever was inside these things hit his hands and shivered. If he had any doubts about them being dead, they evaporated.
“Everything okay, Frank?” Lightfoot called out.
“I’m fine, one of those things was in here, caught me by surprise. I’ll be right back.”
“See, I told you there was another one on the loose,” Carson said, the smugness in his voice made Frank clench his teeth.
Instead, he kept his mouth shut and enjoyed the wide-open space in front of him. He glanced around at the damage of what used to be one of the launch tubes for the missile, but was now an empty spot they used to run wires and cables from the lower levels to the top. They designed it this way so that in case of an emergency, all systems would be backed up for a time.
From the looks of it, whoever did this was aware of the extra cables purpose and destroyed them. Someone who was not a member of the silo community. Someone who didn’t want the data to survive. Three repelling ropes dangled in the air. He checked the other two – empty.
Another hole similar to the one he hung out of could be seen lower down, flickers of light illuminated small parts of the darkness.
Frank pushed himself up and picked at the vent remnants beside him, it hadn’t exploded outward as he assumed. The metal bent inwards. The explosion was planned, though he wasn’t surprised. He also realized someone arranged it so if something happened elsewhere in the silo, various other explosions would be triggered. He caught sight of the front of his gear and grimaced. He rubbed off as much of the dead flesh as he could.
Frank walked back to the remaining two members of his team and sprinted to the exit door. He was so full of piss and vinegar it was going to take more than a pressure plate to kill him now.
Someone wanted him and his men not to succeed, something he didn’t like. Frank Monroe didn’t fail.
Chapter 10 –
Arthur screwed the flashlight attachment to the end of his XM-25 then helped Smith when he saw her struggling. Dixon didn’t look good, and if Arthur didn’t know better, he’d swear he was wearing a different mask. Then again, the light was non-existent, so he blamed his suspicion on stress and eyes playing tricks.
He walked over to the door that would take them into what Dixon called the “last stand” room. If breached, this place meant doom for those below. He pushed it open a tad and then closed it quickly.
“Holy crap, we’re going to need more grenades, but on a good note, the emergency lighting is working in there,” Arthur said.
“That’s not good, because in the dark we stood a chance of hiding, but if they can see us, we’re screwed.” Dixon slammed a locker.
Arthur cleared his throat. “I don’t think they see us so much as smell us. That film over their eyes is thick enough to obstruct vision.”
“Whatever, geek. Why don’t we do what we did before and just take them down one at a time?” Benson asked reasonably.
Arthur didn’t like the fact Benson’s attitude had changed since the incident in the office. The way he acted now didn’t mesh with the situation they were in. Part of Arthur’s mind went to the spy novels he loved to read, and he imagined a secret group parachuting into the compound and cracking heads to rescue their man. Arthur knew it was ridiculous, but then again, so was the idea of people reanimating after death.
“We can’t do it that way, because last time there were a third of the number we’re dealing with now, and they weren’t wearing helmets,” Dixon said roughly.
Arthur wracked his brain to come up with a way out of their situation. Smith fidgeted with her gun and Arthur followed the beam as he tried to come up with a solution. The trail of light ended on the back of Dixon’s suit and he saw a bright red spot – from underneath. Snakes slithered in his stomach as he realized the big man might have been bitten.
“Hey, Dixon, how are you feeling? Was it hard clearing this room on your own?” Arthur asked as he moved closer.
“Fine, no proble--” Dixon fell to his knees and ripped off his mask.
Arthur watched as blood dribbled, then poured out of the man’s mouth and nose. His skin paled and turned a greenish black color making him look more like a cadaver in the low light of the beam.
Benson came out of nowhere and grabbed Dixon, forcing the big man to stand.
“Come on, help me get him to his feet and out that door,” Benson struggled to get the words out as he strained himself with Dixon’s body weight.
Arthur and Smith stared at him unmoving, shock clearly written on their faces.
“Damn it, this is the only way we are going to get out of here, and we only have seconds to do it,” Benson yelled.
Smith moved to help him. Between the two, they got Dixon to the door and opened it. Arthur grabbed the pack off the big man’s back and watched him fall into the room. As suspected, the contaminated went for Dixon, the smell of blood intoxicating them. Their moans more than sealed that detail in Arthur’s head. They came over and clawed at Dixon’s convulsing body, shredding the suit in seconds. Arthur stared into the eyes of Dixon, and pure hatred looked back.
Smith started to laugh, one of those hysterical ones, so Arthur grabbed her as they went to the side of the room and fired shots at the ones nearest them. Smith’s aim improved and she managed to put a bullet in the direct center of one’s face and caused its head to blow apart like something long dead and rotten.
Benson followed close behind, but as usual did nothing to help. Arthur didn’t have the time to care. Dixon’s body had been consumed by the mob and now they turned blood soaked faces in his direction.
They let out pained sounding groans and Arthur tossed a grenade, pulling Smith with him as they made a run for it. The few they passed were too slow to catch them. The concussive blast of the explosion knocked all three of them on the ground. Like below, fingers, hands, and a few leg bits flew everywhere.
With ringing ears, and severe disorientation, Arthur tried to force himself to focus. He grabbed the hand next to his and pulled, gagging when he realized it wasn’t attached to anything. Dark tendrils of rotten sinew and muscle dripped a rancid smelling substance.
Arthur closed his eyes and shook his head. Seconds counted. Smith was a foot to his left, and roaming around on her hands and knees. One of the contaminated fell on its knees to feast on her, and Arthur grabbed the Baby Eagle and pulled the trigger. Then he repeated the process two more times before his coordination returned and he killed the one tearing into Smith’s calf.
He stood and grabbed her as the mob found them once again. The bodies of the others, both whole and broken, caused some to trip and fall. When they reached the exit, Arthur was annoyed, but not surprised to find Benson there.
“Thanks for the help,” Arthur snapped.
“Whatever, I ain’t your babysitter. In fact, he’s dead now, so you better watch your back.”
Arthur took a moment to catch his breath in the hallway, but saw the door starting to open. “Crap, come on, move up, we gotta go.”
“What’s the next floor? Dixon was the only one who knew what to expect,” Smith said in a shaky voice.
“Don’t worry, it’s just a storage floor. I bet we don’t even run into anything up there,” Arthur soothed her. Though he didn’t know why he cared, the bitch had helped Benson toss Dixon out. Arthur would never forget those hate filled eyes, and wondered if Dixon was even infected. The thought of an innocent man dying so they could live nauseated him, but the fact the big man vomited up blood was a good indicator something was wrong with
