“But we don’t know how many of them were here. Probably not a one on one situation,” Arthur argued weakly.
“Whatever, if you want my advice on how to survive, then you must assume the worst – of everybody.”
Arthur watched her walk away and wondered if she would ever forgive him, or be the same after all this. He knew he sure as hell wouldn’t be. The things they’d seen and done had changed them in a fundamental level. He jogged to catch up to her, because the least he could do was keep an eye on her back.
Frank grabbed the muzzle of the M4 and twisted it out of the hands of the person holding it. He kicked him in the chest and aimed the gun at his head. His finger was a nanosecond away from pulling when he heard the voice.
“Don’t shoot, I’m not one of them,” the man pleaded.
According to his nametag, the guy was someone named Benson. Frank shoved him against the back wall of the stairwell and rammed the weapon against his throat. “Who the hell are you, and how the hell did you get up here?”
“Benson, my name is John Benson. I was assigned to Level 15 to work with Dr. Covington. There was an explosion; everybody was killed except for me. I raided the armory and I have been fighting my way out ever since. There’s something wrong with the others, it’s like their infected with something,” the man rattled off, fear in his voice.
Something didn’t feel right about the story he was being fed, so Frank pressed for more details.
“How does a lab guy like you know his way around weapons?” Frank asked easing up the chokehold a bit.
“I did a tour in the marines, four years.”
Frank stood back, because there was no way this guy was military. If he were, then Frank would have had to struggle a hell of a lot more to take the weapon away. “Everyone else died? You’re the only survivor? Is that what you’re telling me?”
Benson put his hands on his knees as he bent over and responded. “Yeah, just like I said.”
“Where was the explosion?”
“In Dr. Covington’s lab. It was a mess, barely got out of there before the contaminated came after me.” Benson straightened.
Frank tried to size up the man in front of him, which was made a lot harder because of the damn suits he was wearing. Part of him was happy the doctor was dead, though a small part of him wondered if the geek was capable of causing something like this his first day on the job.
“What caused the explosion?”
“I have no idea, the mass spectrometer was analyzing something and ‘boom’ everything went to hell.”
Frank glanced at Lightfoot to get a read on what he thought, but his friend remained stoic as usual.
“Why do you call them contaminated? Do you know something about what’s going on?” Frank asked, since any information at this point would help keep them alive.
Benson nodded rapidly. “Yes, something in the rocks, I think. The doctor ground them up for analyzing, and when the place exploded we figured the tiny particles went airborne and contaminated anyone who wasn’t wearing a mask.”
Frank pounced on him. “We figured? Who is we? You said everyone died.”
“One of the lab techs hung on for a bit, but was taken over by a group of them when we came out of the armory.” Benson refused to meet Frank’s gaze and that didn’t sit right with him.
“I have a few problems with your story. First one being that the doors don’t work for people going up…unless the person is escaping and has knowledge on how to work around the system?” Frank said in a menacing tone.
“Look, I haven’t accessed a single panel. All of the doors have worked fine for me. I thought they were supposed to go into lockdown. I’m just grateful they didn’t. We should really get moving though.”
Benson stepped forward and Frank placed a hand on his chest. “I was sent here to get someone, and even though you say he’s dead, I need to see proof.”
“Boss, the guy is dead. Why are you going to get us all killed so we can go look at his corpse?” Carson asked.
Voices could be heard from below. One was female, and the other one he knew well; his annoying flight companion who loved to ask questions. Also, the man who Benson said was dead. Two figures that had seen better days rounded the corner with guns drawn.
Frank raised his arms and called out to them, “We’re here to rescue you, put the weapons down.”
The two did as asked, but remained where they were.
“Dr. Covington, is that you?” Frank asked.
“Yes, it is. Are you really here to help us? The floor level we just came from had signs of someone taking care of the contaminated, was that you?”
“No, it wasn’t.” Another team, Frank wanted to beat the crap out of someone for one piece of true information.
Frank looked at the timid doctor and then at Benson and wondered what the hell was going on. There was a traitor in their midst, and he only had seconds to figure out who it was.
“I’m here to help, come up here with your friend, and meet--”
Dr. Covington raced up the stairs and tackled Benson. He hit him in the chest area, careful to avoid the mask. “You bastard, after what you did to Dixon, we should have killed you, but then to run off like that and leave us to die. You should be ashamed.”
Frank pulled Dr. Covington off and handed him to Lightfoot who held him in place with a look. The other person then charged up the stairs and kicked Benson squarely in the balls the second Frank had him on his feet.
“I’d kill you if I could get away with it!” the woman yelled.
“Well, Benson, seems like you have some explaining to do. You can start with how these two came back from the dead.” Frank raised his weapon to make it clear he was not screwing around.
“Screw you,” Benson yelled, as he pulled a Beretta from his side pocket and aimed it at Frank. Lightfoot had his M4 out, as did Carson. The woman, Selena, and Dr. Covington moved onto the main floor Frank and his team just cleared.
“You’re a damn traitor, Benson, who paid you off? Who gave you enough money to let something like this happen? God knows what’s going on topside with this crap getting into the air.” Frank gripped his weapon tight.
Benson laughed. “You’re either stupid or a traitor yourself. You honestly think you got down here without any help? You think it’s a coincidence the doors locked behind you? Those trigger mechanisms are not all working at 100%?”
Frank moved a step toward the man. “I’m no traitor, you piece of crap.” Frank glanced over his shoulder at Lightfoot and Carson.
Benson taunted him some more. “I can tell you this much, I had help from someone in this group.”
Selena screamed and Frank turned to see what was wrong. He imagined one of those dead things on her and his rage boiled.
Carson held a gun to her head. “It’s her man, think about it, Frank. She popped up out of nowhere on a level she clearly should have died on.”
Frank stood half in the room and half outside of it. Part of him knew Carson’s logic was sound, but another part of him didn’t want to believe Selena was bad.
Tears flowed down her face as she begged Frank to believe her. She was innocent. She was in the wrong place at the wrong time, but wouldn’t apologize for living.
Far too many guns were pointed at various people and it made Frank uncomfortable. He tried to move them further away, but wanted to avoid the dead bodies to the right. Lightfoot wouldn’t betray his country, and a few months ago, he would have said the same about Carson. Now, he wasn’t so sure.
As much as he hated to do it, he needed to strike a deal of some sort, a compromise. A shoot out was only going to get people killed, but if they combined forces, they might actually get out of this alive.
