Catalyst (Book 1): Decay Chains (8 page)

CHAPTER TEN

DAYS UNTIL THE SUPERVIRUS GOES GLOBAL: 30:20:15

Stormy’s hearing restored itself when she swallowed hard on the lump in her throat. The ringing was painful, but not as bad as swallowing with a desert dry throat. She listened to the fire take the hall. Vicky wailed from somewhere in the rubble. Stormy’s view was obstructed, but she heard someone stumbling her way.

“You there?” Stan called out.

Dr. Louboutin uttered something unintelligible in response. Debris jostled about, and then Stan hobbled into view. Bits of charred carpet, twisted metal, and thick glass covered the space between them.

“Doc,” Stan said.

“We’re here.” Stormy didn’t recognize her own voice. It was strained, breathless, and higher than ever before.

“Oh shit. Vicky.” Stan picked up the pace. “You’re not looking good.”

She wailed again.

“Help me get her out.” Stan heaved a section of railing off Stormy and lifted her to her feet. A sharp pain pierced Stormy’s side. She could tell immediately that it was there to stay. A mixture of warmth and stabbing pangs flew to the forefront of her consciousness.

“What’s that?” Dr. Louboutin shouted, even though Stan was right in front of him.

Stan pointed in Vicky’s direction. Dr. Louboutin careened toward her with one hand covering his bleeding ear. Stan wrapped his arm around Stormy’s shoulder and they stumbled toward the wails. She shook her head in a feeble attempt to dislodge the fog. It was unnecessary. When she saw Vicky’s state, her mind returned to full alertness.

“The supers may not take us out after all,” she said.

Stan helped Dr. Louboutin free Vicky from the huge piece of drywall that rested upon her chest. Her face was a mosaic of tiny slashes in between steady streams of blood. Dr. Louboutin went straight to work assessing her injuries. Stormy’s gaze froze on her friend, but Stan’s eyes darted around the atrium in search of threats.

He readied his gun. “Answers the question though.”

“What?” It hurt to talk.

“That tower was safe,” Stan said. “They didn’t want it to spread.”

Vicky cried out as Dr. Louboutin brought her to her feet. Her leg twisted in on itself. Stormy couldn’t take it and doubled over, certain she would puke.

Dr. Louboutin braced his wife and instructed her to walk. “Time to go.”

Vicky took one step, buckled, and begged Jesus for mercy.

Stormy pushed Stan. “Help her.”

Stan wound his arm around Vicky’s middle and they started off again. Stormy bit her lip as she walked and braced her stomach. She cursed in pain as she knelt down to grab a long metal scrap before evacuating the atrium.

The walk back down the hall was slow. Very slow. Vicky covered her cries, but it didn’t do much good. Tension crawled along Stormy’s skin as she limped behind the others. Her focus was behind her more than it was in front. The stairs were too far away. Vicky wasn’t going to make it.              

“Look for a wheelchair,” she said.

“We’re almost there,” Dr. Louboutin said.

No, we’re not.
Stormy saw his point. Digging around in the rooms wasn’t a great idea. She continued to scan the wreckage looking for a functional wheelchair, just in case. The search wasn’t going good.              

Stormy’s eyes widened and a shiver ran up her spine when she noticed that all the doors to the rooms were open. Every single one was closed when they crossed this hall before. She peered into the dark rooms as she passed, begging for another empty space. Some rooms were still and motionless. A body here and there, halfway out of bed or lying right in the middle of the floor. Television remote in hand, an old man lay crumpled just outside the door, legs sprawled behind him, what was left of them anyways.

“Vicky, you’ve got to try to be quiet,” Dr. Louboutin said.

Vicky cried out again, louder. Dr. Louboutin’s eyes met Stan’s. Stormy knew that look by now. She cursed under her breath and clenched the piece of metal between her fingers.

The flash of movement didn’t register at first. Stormy caught it the second time, but not with enough notice to do anything about it. The super bolted out of the room full force at Vicky. She knocked Stan clear across the hall, but paid Dr. Louboutin no mind as she wrenched Vicky from his arm. Vicky screamed as her husband fell backward.

Stormy ran up and smashed the metal across the super’s head. Skin and hair flew off, but the super didn’t let up. Her fingers gouged into Vicky’s shoulders. Her mouth opened and Stormy hit her again. The super shook her head after the blow and grunted at her attacker. Shoulders arched, she bowed up and tried again.

Another series of stabs rained down upon the super, but she didn’t stop. Her teeth closed around Vicky’s ear, ripped it off, and flipped it over on her tongue. Vicky’s scream echoed as it crashed around in Stormy’s head, long after it had physically elapsed. A scream to match that one didn’t exist.

Stormy’s arms swung over her head as she crashed the metal down on the super again and again. The pain swelled in her stomach, begging her to collapse in the middle of the floor. The super’s body broke under her hits.

Stan’s arms wound around Stormy and strained to pull her backward. This took a moment to register, as did the sight of Dr. Louboutin yanking Vicky out of the super’s clutches.

She didn’t have to think to realign her hits when the super crumpled to the floor and couldn’t have thought about it if she tried. All her mind could do was think about thrusting the metal down, back up, and down again. The splatters hitting her face and neck, and the blood running down her arms, didn’t make sense at first. She paid no mind. Stan kept yanking her back. She fought him and refused to let go of the metal.

Her senses returned, but her breathing didn’t level out. Blood dripped down her clothes, arms, and face and made everything want to cling together. Her hair stuck to her sticky cheeks in patches. The metal felt like it would crumble in her hands if she pressed any harder.

Stan bear-hugged her and retreated. She slapped his arms away and charged forward. He grabbed her up and flattened her against the wall.

“You got her,” he said.

Stormy shook her head. “It got her.” Her eyes moved from Vicky’s tortured body back to Stan.

“I know.” He pressed his palms against her collarbone and held her against the wall.

It was like he wasn’t even standing there. She sucked in a few huge breaths and tried to push through him again. She got away from the wall. He caught her wrist and yanked her back, but she plowed forward, dragging him behind her.

The super moaned and thrashed around on the floor and desperately lunged toward Vicky. Stormy plunged one more hit into her skull, and then drove the metal down until it clinked against the tile. The super stopped moving. She kneeled down and wrenched the piece of metal back up with both hands. After jerking the metal into motion, she slowed down and savored the painstaking ascension. She hoped for relief, or some sense of justice, but nothing of the sort came. Only more red-hot anger to go with what she already had.

The door slammed again. Stormy reeled up to a standing position and looked for the source. Stan grabbed her hand and locked down on it.

Dr. Louboutin sat dumbfounded and wide-eyed. He looked over his shoulder and shook his head at Stan before turning back to Vicky. She writhed on the floor and choked down choppy breaths. Blood poured everywhere.              

“Vicky, we’re going to try to move you,” he said.

She shook her head back and forth slowly. Her eyes covered all the space between her too high eyebrows and the tip of her nose. There was nothing but bloodshot eyes for more than half her face. She coughed and sprayed blood all over her husband’s glasses. He didn’t move to wipe them. Love flowed in the space separating them. He leaned in and whispered into the ear she still possessed.

“I love you too,” Vicky said.

Her fingers fumbled at her side. It took her multiple tries to retrieve her shears. Stormy thought the worst as Vicky’s shaky hand closed around, and then raised her shears. Dr. Louboutin did too, and he backed away.

Vicky wasn’t having that. Her other hand, a bloody mess from the explosion, floated over her stomach until it caught hold of her husband. She spit out mouthfuls of blood while guiding the shears in.

“No, Vicky,” Stormy shrieked.

Vicky squeezed her husband’s hand. Her eyes darted around the room trying to sense Stormy. Her lip curled up in a half smile. She shook her head once. Something garbled crossed her lips. Hushed words, that were meant to have a meaning, fell to the floor undiscerned. They might’ve been for the group, but were most likely for God.

“What, Vicky?” Stormy asked.

Vicky gave her second try everything she had. The door slammed again, but Stormy could still make out what Vicky said over it.

“Don’t let them hurt him.”

Stormy knew whom Vicky referred to on all counts.

“I won’t, Vicky,” she said.

Vicky nodded violently. “God sees.” Her breathing faltered, forcing her back to the task at hand. Her eyes whirled around the room, unseeing at this point. She gasped as she stabbed the shears into her own heart. Her body convulsed. Her arms twitched until they jerked away from her breast and her husband’s fingers. Thirty solid seconds elapsed before the twitching lost its intensity and her chest stopped heaving.

Hush befell the group. No one moved, even though the slamming wouldn’t stop. Stormy wished the super would quit playing with the fucking door and show himself.

Dr. Louboutin used the back of his hand to wipe the blood off his glasses. He rose and examined the hallway through smeared blood.

“I don’t want to leave her like this.” He didn’t hide his misty eyes. “I can’t. She’s my wife of twenty-nine years.”

Stormy had thought him heartless. Apparently he did have one, but it was very small and disconnected most of the time. The door slammed again. This time, the hinges creaked and the dry wall crunched.

“Man, I’m really sorry,” Stan said. “We don’t have time.”

Stan moved closer to Dr. Louboutin and forced him to make eye contact. “But if we did, I’d help you take good care of her. She’s been a good boss to me and an even better friend.”

Stormy tried to remember a prayer. She muttered, convinced her version was all wrong because too many curse words were cluttered within. Prayers laden with promises to strike down her enemies probably didn’t have the desired effect. She stared at her dead friend as she started her hopeless prayer over again. It looked like Vicky twitched, but Stormy wasn’t certain. There was no mistake about it when her entire arm jerked a moment later.

“Doctor, move,” Stormy said.

Vicky sat up. Dr. Louboutin looked up in time to see his wife try to take a bite out of his shoulder blade. He was on Stormy’s heels before she could flip around and take off. Stan leveled his gun on Vicky as he ran backward.             

“No!” Dr. Louboutin screamed and threw his hand up in front of the gun.

“She’s not your wife anymore.” Stan swung around to run forward.

Vicky was on her feet now, but her footsteps weren’t alone in pursuit of them. Stormy hadn’t noticed that the slamming had stopped until now.

Stan lowered the gun and sprinted down the hall. Dr. Louboutin trailed behind. Even with the limp, Stormy’s adrenaline was helping her maintain a steady pace.
I can do this. We’ll make it out of here.

The rooms flew by now. They passed the field of glass. Stormy’s heart broke as sirens and gunfire floated through the broken window. She had to look away when she saw the twisted wreckage that had once been a rail of chairs.

Stan jerked the stairwell door open and flew straight into the chest of an enormous male super. Behind the giant, a pack of twitching followers pushed forward. Stan tried to retreat, but the super bear-hugged him and dragged him inside. It was the first time Stormy ever heard him scream. The door slammed shut, leaving only a tiny window view of Stan fighting a giant, while a hoard of supers encircled him.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

DAYS UNTIL THE SUPERVIRUS GOES GLOBAL: 30:19:45

Dr. Louboutin’s haggard breaths were right behind Stormy when she opened the door, but then they faded. She let the door fall shut while she watched him run in the other direction.

“Where the hell are you going?”

“I left something. Hold on.”

He sprinted out past the wreckage from earlier, broke an emergency case affixed to the wall, and returned fire extinguisher in hand. Vicky wasn’t that far behind him, and she moved fast, even though she dragged one leg. Pain was a thing of her past, and she didn’t appear to give a damn about the way her foot flopped unnaturally in her wake.

“Ready?” he asked.

“Haven’t been all day.”

Stan screamed. Stormy jerked the door open. Dr. Louboutin let the fire extinguisher go full blast on the supers, aiming mainly for the giant holding Stan prisoner.

Most of the supers lost interest in Stan and congregated around the fresh meat. They groaned as the mist poured out of the red cylinder. Dr. Louboutin focused the pressure on the ones closest to him, occasionally diverting the flow to one that moved faster than the others. Stormy slashed with the twisted metal until it cut into her fingers. Even then, her hold only relaxed a tad.

When the mist ran dry, they made a move toward Stan, who was halfway down the stairs fighting off the giant. The doctor smashed the butt of the extinguisher into the closest super’s chin, knocking him back a few feet. The mist acted as a greaser and turned the stairwell into a skating rink. Dr. Louboutin slid into the next super, hit him across the cheek with the fire extinguisher, and then skidded past his falling body.

Stan twisted in the super’s arms and used his hands to force the hungry mouth away from his face. When the super proved too strong for that tactic, Stan gouged his eyes. Undeterred, the super went in for round two. The face was in reach again. Stan dodged his teeth and went after his eyes once more. The super squeezed him tighter. Stan kicked him and drove his knee into the bastard’s crotch full force. He pressed his fingers farther into the super’s eyes until they damn near disappeared. The super lost his balance, buckled and released Stan. Panting, Stan backed up against the wall and put two rounds in the super’s head. His face hit the rail on the way down, and then the twitching mass of pitted flesh crumpled on the stairs.

Stormy stayed in line behind Dr. Louboutin and thrashed the metal scrap at the hands that reached out for her. She closed her eyes as she swiped the metal across the neck of a younger super, and swore she would forgive herself later. A female super lost her footing and fell into Stormy as she stabbed a rather jittery male in the chest. She was still pulling the metal out of the twitchy male, using all her energy on the extraction, when the falling super pulled her down the stairs. The motion wrenched the metal out of the first.

The hands were rough on her skin. So was the fall. Her knees, abdomen, and face throbbed as they crashed against each step individually. Why the super couldn’t have absorbed some of the blow, she wasn’t sure. Stormy groaned as her body absorbed successive hard impacts. Each step left her unprepared for the next. Her hand would be out to break her fall on the step that her knees hit first. The super would knock her off kilter on the next. Sheets of the super’s skin created a trail as they both tumbled.
We’ll be in the parking garage before I get upright, and she’ll be nothing but a skeleton when we get there.

Stormy was two steps from the bottom before she caught herself. Dr. Louboutin was nowhere in sight and she couldn’t hear Stan anymore. The super’s hands clawed at Stormy’s arms and stomach. She cringed as the super pulled on her left side and dragged her within biting distance. To make space between them, Stormy kicked and edged away, but the undead beauty queen countered all of her advances.

The super rose up and clawed at Stormy with her manicured nails, like she was scratching her way out of a burial plot. Stormy slashed the metal at her and caught her cheek long ways. She dragged the metal back the other way, harder this time, and watched as the super’s jaw fell to the steps. Angered, the super found her footing, launched at Stormy, and smashed her into the railing behind them. The metal clanked to the ground. Her hands dug into Stormy’s neck. Inch long acrylic fingernails tore off bite size chunks of flesh. Stormy flailed her head back and forth, but couldn’t free herself. The nails dug in a little deeper and Stormy let out a mind-shattering scream. The super shook her hand over what remained of her mouth and tried to swallow the tiny bits of flesh.

Stormy’s fists shot into the super one after another. She made impact, but caused no reaction. Dizziness set in as the fingernails lifted, dripping with her blood, and dove in again.
This is it. Here I go.

The fire extinguisher made a healthy thud on its first hit. On the second strike, the one when it crushed the super’s skull, it also connected with the edge of the stairwell. The clanging sound rang out and echoed up and down the walls. Stormy’s head bobbed like a child’s floatie in open water. The super released her, but she was too out of it to be thankful. She felt herself falling and couldn’t find the strength to put her hands out to soften the blow.

Dr. Louboutin caught her before she collapsed onto the stairs. He stood her upright, but when she looked around, everything spun, to include the hoard of growling supers. She closed her eyes after they settled on super number four, who a minute ago had been a dear friend, and ardent Christian, but now vied for a piece of her.

The railing kept darting around, preventing Stormy from grabbing hold of it. Her fingertips almost made contact before Stan grabbed her arm. The men carried her in-between them and made fast work of the slippery steps. Her feet only hit the floor half the time.

She wasn’t lucid again till they were halfway down the first floor stairs. Groans and clamoring footsteps came from everywhere. Stan fired off questions, but she couldn’t decide whom he was talking to. Her side burned each time her feet flopped against the steps. Pain was the only thing between her and unconsciousness.

She was about to give in to the Ambien laced waves, when a blast jarred her into full alertness. The force felt powerful enough to cave the walls in.

“Stormy,” Stan said.

“Stormy, can you hear us?” Dr. Louboutin asked.

Sweat and heat poured out of her. She was lightheaded, thirsty, and about to puke. Every time she took a breath, chunks bobbed up and down her throat. Her mouth watered, but swallowing brought no relief.

Her stomach calmed down when she forced her eyes open. She focused on the stairs and tried to find her footing. Once her feet steadied on the ground, the spinning slowed. Her stomach leapt once, then twice, but she was coming out of it.

“Stormy,” Stan said.

His grip was a little too tight. Dr. Louboutin was clearly the gentler of the two.

“You should smack her, Doc. She’s out of it.”

“Can’t you do it?”

“If I drop the gun. I’d rather hang on to it though.”

“Stormy,” Dr. Louboutin shouted.

She drew a deep breath and prayed that when she opened her mouth, chunks wouldn’t fly out. Her voice was long gone. “What?”

Stan looked straight at her. She pulled her feet in time to theirs and carried a little more of her own weight.

“You all right?”

“Fucking peachy.”

Where delicate, flawless skin once thrived, her neck was completely raw. It felt like she had been pushed through a cheese grater and then salted. She was scared to touch the ribbon like lacerations that burned when air crossed them.
Have I been infected? Of all things, a cheap manicure is going to end me. Great.

Footsteps thundered down the stairs behind them and spurred the hapless group forward. Stan released Stormy’s arm to open the door, but it wouldn’t budge. Hesitation enveloped his eyes. The bear hug from earlier seemed to weigh him down. He banged his fists against the barrier and then went in for a kick. Dr. Louboutin pushed him out of the way and bludgeoned the door with the fire extinguisher until it gave way.

Dr. Louboutin guided Stormy out of the stairwell and then left her leaning against the wall. She pulled ragged breaths in and begged her body to cooperate. The gunfire that had been distant in the stairwell boomed in the garage. The soundtrack of urban warfare boomeranged about the drafty space before them.

Stan slammed the door shut. “Is your car in employee parking?”

Dr. Louboutin nodded. “In the first row.”

The doctor pushed Stormy farther down the wall before banging the fire extinguisher against the door handle. Four whacks later, the handle bent. One more and it snapped off and grated across the ground.

The garage was a dark, dank hellhole with more shadows than cars in it. Too many desolate places welcomed danger to lurk. She couldn’t wait to be out of it. Anticipation cooled her stomach and sent relaxation all through her middle. She sucked in a deep breath and felt joy as no urge to vomit followed.
I’m getting out of here.

Stan grabbed Stormy’s hand and pulled her along. “We’re taking Doc’s car.”

“You okay to walk?” Dr. Louboutin asked.

Stormy nodded.

“Come on,” Stan said. “The garage stairs are over here.”

Dr. Louboutin took up the rear as the group headed toward an elevator bank and stairwell on the adjoining wall.

“Did you hear that?”

Stan pulled the stairwell door open. “Doesn’t matter. We’re out of here.”

Stormy felt good enough to try and hurry again. She descended the steps on her own and reached the door to freedom a minute after the guys. Stan nodded his approval as Dr. Louboutin swung it open. “It’s this one,” Dr. Louboutin called as he fumbled in the pocket of his bloody khakis.

He pressed a button on his key ring and a beige Cadillac came to life. The doctor clamored into the driver’s seat and cranked the ignition while the others ambled around to the passenger doors. Stan was halfway inside when Stormy screamed.

The super dragged her into the bowels of the garage and tried to rip her arm off. Stormy donkey kicked her in the gut before turning around to face her and forgetting how to breathe. The woman in scrubs, from the fifth floor stairwell, yanked Stormy up by the arm.

Clones of Matt’s dilated irises, that knew hunger over everything else, devoured her. Drool dripped onto her bare skin as the woman raised Stormy’s arm to her mouth. She screamed and kicked the woman again. It felt like her foot was pushing through a rotten grapefruit.

“Damn,” Dr. Louboutin said.

Stormy heard him over the growling and felt his annoyance. Her anger pooled.
Sorry about the delay, Doc. Hope my death doesn’t slow you down too much.
 

Stan’s shoes slapped against the concrete in her direction, but she knew he would be too late. She ripped her arm back, only to relent against the super’s strength. It was like yanking on a boat anchor. Her arm would break off before she freed it. The super swiped at her with her other hand, desperate to get a second hold. Her teeth ground together and her lips parted, inches from Stormy’s skin. She punched the woman again, with all her weight behind the blow this time. It was a wasted effort. The super growled and squeezed tighter.

The super yanked harder this time. Stormy flew forward and her forehead smashed into the super’s chin. Her jaw clamped shut and her teeth bit into her tongue. Throbbing ensued. Her thoughts rattled around in her head, jarred from their positions by the blow.

The car’s engine started.
They’re leaving me?
The super caught hold of her other arm as she threw a punch that never landed. Teeth grazed Stormy’s skin. She flailed and brushed up against a concrete wall. Fingers dug deep into her cuts and she lost it.

The Cadillac’s tires screeched as it rounded a corner. It felt like someone siphoned all the air out of the parking garage.

Stan barreled into view and went straight to work. Holding the gun butt first, he drove it into the woman’s skull. The hits reverberated through her into Stormy. With each blow, the super groaned and her whole body tensed. Stormy broke free and skirted the other way. Never bothering to raise her arms to break her fall, the woman hit bloated belly first and then gurgled on the floor. Blood spewed from the hole in her skull, a hole a little bigger than the gun’s handle. Brain particles floated down a red stream, stopping only when a column blocked their way.

Head between her knees, Stormy panted. “Why didn’t you just shoot her?”

“You fucking dirt bag asshole!” Stan yelled at the air that occupied the Cadillac’s former spot. He wiped his forehead with the back of his hand. The gun passed over his face, blocking his eyes.

He sighed, looked at the woman, and then back at Stormy. “Out of bullets.”

He turned back toward the stairs. Tires locked up and screamed. Both of them jumped when they heard metal collide with concrete.

“Serves him fucking right,” Stan said. And he kept walking.