room through the wall in order to feed the huge farms of the lab. This room was, arguably, the most important in the entire Bunker. Without it, everyone starved. No wonder it was kept so secure.
We walked through the room, until we reached the opposite side. There, we entered a thin, claustrophobic hallway that was little-used. At the end was a circular stairway, leading up. Mr. Kline went first, followed by Khloe, then her mom. I went last.
Mr. Kline opened the door at the top. When I stepped through it, we found ourselves in the atrium of Bunker 108. The exit was one minute away.
“We made it,” I said.
The circular vault door leading into the exit tunnel was wide open. Some had already escaped.
“Keep your gun ready,” Mr. Kline said.
I held my gun up as we advanced.
We entered, finding the rocky exit tunnel dimly lit. The temperature was near freezing. Between us and the final vault door, were two forms: one on the ground, bloody and dead, and the other kneeling beside it.
Before anyone could speak, the man’s face snapped toward us.
It was Chan, his all-white eyes empty and soulless. Wet, red blood stained his uniform. His head cocked to the right side. All his muscles tensed.
He charged forward, letting out an otherworldly bellow.
“Get back!” Mr. Kline yelled.
I aimed my gun and fired three times. The bullets entered Chan’s body – his chest, his abdomen, his right arm. From each wound, purple goo shot out, like it had replaced the blood in his body.
None of the shots had any effect. Chan only stumbled on, set on one goal – killing us at any cost.
I had one shot left. I aimed for the head, watching it bob up and down as Mr. Kline pulled away from Chan.
I fired.
I missed probably by inches.
Khloe screamed as Chan tackled her father to the ground. I dropped my gun and ran to pull Chan off him.
But it was too late. Mr. Kline screamed as Chan ripped into his neck, tearing from it a tendril of bloody flesh. Mr. Kline’s horrible howl became choked with blood. A small fountain of blood shot upward.
Khloe ran up from behind, letting out a desperate scream. She smashed Chan’s head in with the skillet, bludgeoning him until his animalistic eyes rolled back. He keeled over and collapsed on the ground.
Almost instantly, Chan’s body started to inflate.
“Run!” Khloe screamed.
I pulled Khloe back, away from the swelling body. I could see Khloe’s mom and dad were beyond all hope of escaping the blast. Khloe and I ducked behind a corner just as Chan exploded. A wall of purple slime gushed past us.
We reemerged to find both of Khloe’s parents coated with the stuff.
“No,” Khloe said. “No…”
She ran forward.
“No!” her mother yelled. “Do not touch me! You have to go.” Tears ran down Mrs. Kline’s face, cutting a clear path through the slime.
Mr. Kline lay on the ground, twitching, choking. It looked like he was trying to speak, but to no avail.
Khloe’s face was white as she stared at her dying father.
“I…” she said.
“You can’t stay here,” Mrs. Kline said. “Go!”
Khloe recoiled as if struck.
“Go, Khloe,” Mrs. Kline said, desperately. “Run now. You will not die here.”
“Khloe,” I said. “We have to go.”
Behind us, I could hear gunshots, people screaming, and non-human growling. I looked toward the vault door.
“
More snarls, and the pattering of footsteps from the atrium.
“Goodbye,” she said. “I love you…”
I pulled her toward the exit, just as she had pulled me along when my father was dying. Though I had no strength, I had to be strong.
I had to do what I must, not what I wanted.
We ran down the corridor, and did not look back. People who had been alive and well only hours earlier now flooded the tunnel. I had no idea how, but the xenovirus was turning humans into crazed monsters. They charged forward, their hellish white eyes paralyzing me with fear.
Together, Khloe and I turned the wheel on the door. We pushed it open into the cold, pitch black night and howling, shocking wind. We stepped forward, as if into another dimension. Together, we slammed it shut, shutting out Bunker 108 and its infected denizens forever.
The dusty wind blustered, chilling me to the bone. I latched onto Khloe in the darkness. A single tear coursed down her cheek.
We shivered in the wind, and the cruelty of the world.
It felt like the apocalypse happening all over again.
Chapter 10
We stumbled over rocks into the cold, windy darkness. The wind cut like a knife. Our clothes were not sufficient protection against it. We had no light. We could only hope, by some miracle, that we came across some form of shelter for the night.
After a few minutes, I looked back, and could see nothing but black night, feel nothing but the wind and sand stinging my face, could hear nothing but the maelstrom and Khloe, crying next to me.
“Just a little farther,” I said.
Even though she was with me, I still felt alone, because the wind ate my words as black holes eat light.
Then, we ran right into something hard and metallic. I felt along the surface, and wanted to cry for joy.
“The trailer,” I said. “We have to find the door.”
For minutes we searched, until I found the latch that led inside. I pushed Khloe in, and slammed the door against the merciless cold.
I found the light, and flipped it on. It was mostly bare. A small kitchen sat in front of us, and beyond that, a worn couch. I could see the door to the bathroom. The light could barely reach it, but at the end, I could make out the corner of a bed.
Khloe went to the couch, and crashed down, and began sobbing all over again.
There was a red, fleece blanket on the couch. I took it and wrapped it around her.
I sat next to her for a minute, shivering. Without a word, she took the blanket and wrapped it around both of us.
We let ourselves thaw for a minute. Then, I got up and went to the fridge. Inside was a container filled with ice. I tried to turn on the stove to heat the trailer up. It didn’t work.
I locked the front door, and made sure the shutters were drawn shut. I went back to the fridge to get the container of ice. I had to find a way to heat it, but could see nothing I could do – nothing until morning came. Its warmer temperatures could get us something to drink by noon.
A quick glance in the cabinet revealed a few homemade granola bars. My stomach growled. I grabbed four of them and headed back to the couch.
Khloe was lying down now, a hand over her face. I sat next to her.
“Here,” I said, “I found some granola.”
She was still shaking.
