Contaminated: A Zombie Survival Novel

him.

When they reached the door, Arthur wanted to take a break and sort out the chaotic thoughts in his head, but the sounds of shuffling feet and moans pushed him on. “I’ll go in first, keep your eyes open, okay? And remember, we still might find some survivors,”

“Right, and after that we’ll all live happily ever after,” Benson said in a sarcasm-laced voice.

“You know what, screw you, Benson!” Arthur yelled as he lunged for the other man.

“Hey, enough, both of you. We need to go in that room whether we want to or not.” Smith pointed down, and Arthur saw over two dozen contaminated climbing the stairs.

He sighed, pulled out Dixon’s Sig, and opened the door. He did a sweep of the room with the flashlight. Wires hung from what looked to be a shredded ceiling. Arthur would’ve sworn the explosion, or whatever happened, occurred in this room. Chunks of concrete lay on the floor from holes blasted in the walls – from the outside. Electricity was non-existent, not even a flicker.

Both Arthur and Smith scanned the immediate area and found one former employee eating someone in a suit similar to theirs. The body on the floor was surrounded by a pool of blood and the contaminated digging into the body`s stomach wasn’t even fazed by their presence. Arthur put a burst through both their heads, and moved toward a portion of what used to be a wall, but was now just a gaping hole. He looked up, then down, realizing whoever did this had a plan. Arthur just hadn’t figured out what it was.

He listened to the large empty space and nothing out of the ordinary floated his way. A few levels above them he saw the barest glimmer of light, but no other signs of life. He thought about calling out, but decided against it in case Benson got through to the people he was working for. Arthur figured Benson was a traitor, if that was possible when you worked for a corporation that stuck you in a fancy underground missile silo where they performed illegal testing. Arthur wasn’t a drinker, but at the moment he wanted a shot of something.

Smith came up to him, a fearful look in her eyes snapping him out of his reverie. “We need to keep moving before we run these filters down.” She showed him the back of her suit, fifty-six minutes remaining.

Arthur nodded and started to move, when he noticed several crates and barrels with odd symbols on the labels. They were small in size, only about a foot square, but every warning known to man was stamped on them.

“Just give me a few minutes to look at these. We might find some useful information about this place or what happened,” Arthur said as he made his way over to the nearest crate.

The top was pried open and he pushed it off. Inside were rocks, but not just any rocks according to the packing invoice. These were from Mars. He shone his flashlight on several labels and saw crates with Moon, Saturn, and Venus, stenciled on them in block lettering.

He salivated at being in the same room as so many samples from around the galaxy. He wanted to open all of them, but knew it would be impossible. Instead, he grabbed a crow bar and opened as many as he could in a frenzy ignoring Smith’s pleas to keep moving. From each one Arthur took a labeled sample and put it in one of the packs he wore.

Something hit him in the back, at first he thought it was Benson, but when he saw the man was standing across from him with a smirk on his face. Arthur panicked and he screamed for help, but Benson just waved goodbye and walked toward the exit.

Smith was trying to pull the contaminated off him, but she was too small. The pile of boxes Arthur was leaning against gave way and he fell in a tumble with the thing on top of him. He felt something pinch at the back of his neck and prayed his suit hadn’t been compromised. After seeing what happened to Dixon, he didn’t want to meet the same fate.

He rolled over, taking the body on top with him. Their positions reversed, Arthur sat atop it and stabbed it in the eye with a piece of broken wood from one of the fallen crates. The contaminated stopped struggling as black liquid bubbled out of the punctured orb. Arthur wondered who the person was. They were dressed in a dark uniform of some kind, but he didn’t want to get too close. As for the body on the floor, more questions swirled in his head as to why they were in protective gear, unless it was protocol for this level.

“Can we get out of here now?” Smith asked impatiently.

Arthur stood and made sure to grab both backpacks. Smith led the way, and when they arrived at the exit, Benson wasn’t there, which Arthur expected. To be honest, he was happy, Benson couldn’t be trusted and the further away from them he was, the better.

If Dixon was right, the next level was where they kept all the information on larger servers and mainframes. This was also where the booby traps and other intruder deterrents started. Arthur wondered if it might be safe to call out for help now that Benson was gone, but he knew deep down, there was no such thing as safe anymore. Even if they managed to survive, he doubted they’d be released.

Arthur noted forty-eight minutes left on Smith’s suit and he knew there was no time to waste. He plastered a smile on his face, exited into the stairwell, and headed up. Even if they were kept as prisoners, it was better than dying in this place.

* * *

Marshall watched the progress of the two teams with interest. Covington was doing better than Monroe was. Then again, the doctor had not come up against any of the security precautions – yet.

His phone rang and he hit the speaker button. “What is it?”

“Sir, we thought you’d like to know we have a way to communicate with our people. It’s rudimentary, but the best we can do,” a nasally voice said.

“Spit it out,” Marshall ordered.

“We can use the inconsistency with the lights to our advantage and send a message via Morse code.”

“Do it, let’s hope our people are smart enough to pick up on it before it’s too late. Start sending one now, ‘play nice with the others until otherwise notified.’”

“Yes, sir.”

“Be ready for a new one on my order.” Marshall turned off the speaker and watched the monitors.

From what he could tell, there were major casualties, but somehow they were coming back to life. He couldn’t make out what was happening, but it appeared they could only be taken down with a shot to the head. He thought of all the uses of whatever it was causing this.

He’d sent in his team and told them to prepare for anything, and for the love of God to wear masks. From what he saw earlier, half of them didn’t listen, though as he looked at the monitor now, he knew of at least one person who did, and they would be the key to his success.

Marshall sat back and waited. A second later, he saw the lights flashing the message he wanted sent. Leaning back in his chair, he thought about the medical implications of a serum that stopped death. Of course, they would have to refine it and work out the kinks, but this was definitely something viable.

With a smile, he pressed the intercom. “Liz, tell the genetics department to work with a powdered form of the samples and find out what Sunset had going on with the tests on Level 14. Have our guys scour the data we piggybacked from their servers.”

“Yes, sir,” his assistant answered.

Hooks was an idiot, always had been, and this debacle would be his crowning achievement. His buzzer went off and he swatted it with annoyance. “Yes?”

“Sir, I think you should turn on the news. Something’s happening in the city East of where the compound is located.”

Marshall straightened in his chair and used the remote to access the news. On the screen reporters were everywhere, cars on fire, people screaming in the background, and police dressed in riot gear trying to contain the mobs. The bent form of someone biting another could be seen and the realization dawned on him that whatever was in the silo had gotten out. In no time, this would be worldwide and he had no intention of dying.

He stabbed the intercom with urgency. “Liz, I need someone to get on a data analysis for how long it will take to reach New York. I also want you to hire the best company to seal up my yacht. I don’t care what time it is or how much it costs, but I want it done now. I also want a team sent in full gear with masks to help with the extraction of the samples and Dr. Covington. He helped himself to some, very thoughtful of him.”

“Yes, Sir. Should we set up an evacuation procedure?”

“When the time comes, ten each of the best electricians, doctors, data analysts, and microbiologists can