Contaminated: A Zombie Survival Novel (21 page)

Frank nodded. “I know, but this is the only lead we have. Lightfoot, give me Carson’s bag.”

Lightfoot tossed the bag over and Frank dumped the contents. He grabbed one of the smaller explosive devices and worked fast to open it. He removed the smallest bit of the sticky substance and put it between the door and jamb.

Next, he reattached the small detonator. “Okay, folks, cover yourselves. I have no idea how bad this explosion is going to be, but we don’t have time to waste.”

Carson and Lightfoot worked to flip the couch over and took cover with Selena and Smith. Frank crouched in the corner with Covington underneath a metallic desk. Frank counted the seconds in his head and when he hit three, he lifted his hands to his ears.

A second later, the explosion ignited the gas in the room and blew the door into the stairwell. A fireball hung in the air over them for a several seconds then died down.

Frank realized the couch was blazing and ran over kicking at the first leg he saw to get them moving. No one could hear. The ringing in their ears from the explosion and thunderclap from the gas igniting was far too loud. Frank made a sweeping gesture with his hands to get people out into the stairwell.

Lightfoot led Carson, Smith and Selena, followed by Covington then Frank. He heard Lightfoot say something but missed it, his ears still not back up to par. Another blast, this one knocking everyone to their feet and causing cracks in the wall, the stairs to crumble and give out.

A massive dust cloud forced its way into the tiny stairwell and the sounds of people crying out in pain, as well as coughing echoed off the walls. Frank hoped no one busted their mask, and it was just an abundance of small dust particles overwhelming people’s lungs.

He moved and let out a hiss of pain when he discovered his arm was pinned beneath a chunk of concrete from the ceiling above. A small puddle of blood was forming and he knew he needed to get it taken care of soon. He felt light headed. How many survived?

“Let’s do a head count, everyone say your name and if you can move or not,” Frank ordered.

“Carson, I’m good, just a little shaken, can’t see much of anything.”

“Selena, I’m okay, think I twisted my ankle, but otherwise fine.”

“Smith, concussion I think, but okay.”

Frank waited another minute before he accepted Lightfoot and Covington were either too hurt to reply, or dead. “Okay, I need someone to get over to me and help me free my arm.”

Debris tumbled and rumbles echoed throughout the tiny stairwell. Frank assumed the damage was still happening on the lower levels as more and more of the structure gave way.

Carson stood over him with a grin on his face. “This is probably gonna hurt, Boss.” With a massive amount of effort Carson pushed the cement off of Frank’s arm. As the blood flow started back up, the appendage throbbed so intensely, he threw up in his mask. The smell nauseated him even more and the fact he couldn’t take it off to empty out was the only reason he was able to keep the rest down. Carson patted him on the back then removed a strap from his backpack and tied a tourniquet above the elbow.

“Sorry ‘bout that. The bone is broken, but it looks like a clean break. Want me to set it for now?”

Frank nodded, words too difficult to form at the moment. Sparks flashed in front of his eyes as Carson pulled the bone straight and the sound of them grinding against one another caused another bout of nausea.

“I’d give you something for the pain, but we can’t risk removing the masks. I can give you a shot…” Carson left the statement hanging as he poured providone-iodine over the shredded skin. Frank watched as it hissed and bubbled. With careful movements, Carson wrapped the injury in gauze then used the
cast in a can
as Frank thought of it.

“That should take care of it, take a few minutes and I’ll check on the others.” Carson turned to leave but Frank used his other arm to catch his attention.

“Why are you doing this?” Frank asked, he had to know about Carson’s sudden change of attitude.

Carson picked up a broken bit of something then let it fall out of his hand. “I got sucked into some bad stuff because of decisions I made. Dixon was killed for no good reason, and I just watched Lightfoot getting crushed between the door of the next level and the wall. He’s currently three inches thick. You see something like that happen and it’s hard to know who the good guys are.” Carson moved away, but threw one last comment over his shoulder, “I know I’m an ass, but that doesn’t mean I like being screwed over by the people I work for.”

Frank let his head rest against the wall behind him. Carson sounded sincere enough, and for the time being that was all that mattered. He looked down at his mangled arm and hoped if they made it out of here he’d be able to keep it. An amputee had no future in weapons development. He wouldn’t even be able to hold a gun. He idly wondered if Selena would think less of him if he lost an arm. Funny the things you thought about when endorphins, adrenaline, and pure fear raced through your veins.

As if she could read his mind, Selena hobbled next to him and sat. Her legs were a crisscrossed pattern of cuts and gashes and he wanted to offer to tend them, but wasn’t able in his current condition.

“See something you like?” she asked.

Frank glanced up at her with a confused expression then blushed as he realized he’d been caught staring at her legs.

“Sorry, I was just wondering if you wanted them taken care of. I have some disinfectant…” Frank stammered.

“Don’t worry, you can make it up to me by taking me to dinner when we get out of here, but first let’s get you on your feet and see if we can find Dr. Covington.”

Frank let her give him a hand even though it went against his personality. If forced at gunpoint he would admit it was rather nice, and he felt weak. He let go of her hand and tried to clear some of the dust from the air. Every time he made some progress, another boom would rattle the building and a new plume shot through the room.

Chapter 15 –

Marshall jumped out of his seat when the screen lit up like a damn fireball was coming at him. After that, his monitors showed only static.

“Liz, what the hell just happened in there?” he yelled.

The door to his office opened and a harried looking young man entered. “Sir, we have a problem,” he panted.

“I saw, care to explain? Your job depends on it,” Marshall snarled.

“We think someone rigged Level 8 with explosives. Whoever it was also used our signal to watch what was happening. They triggered the explosion for the least amount of casualties meaning they wanted Dr. Covington alive, or there’s a spy among them.”

Marshall didn’t like this at all. His yacht was ready to go, all he had to do was pick up his man and Dr. Covington, then get the hell out of dodge. Now someone else was involved and he knew it wasn’t Hooks, the man was in the dark about everything, and an idiot to boot.

“Is there any way we can get the signal back?” Marshall asked, doubt laced his words.

The man shook his head. “Sir, the facility is crumbling as we speak. This attack wasn’t to knock out visual, but to take down the entire structure. I doubt we can get our team back at the rate it’s collapsing.”

“Get out of here and do something useful, back-up all the data and video footage we have of that place. I want to know who set the charges. I also want to know how the best minds, who I pay a hell of a lot of money for, didn’t notice someone hitching a ride on their damn system! And you find a way to get our team out of there or I’ll kill your whole damn division.”

The moment his door closed Marshall reached into his pocket and pulled out his cell.

“I was wondering when you’d call,”
An all too calm voice answered.

“I need a team, and full protective gear. We need to be at the rendezvous point a.s.a.p.” Marshall tried to sound casual.

A laugh answered him,
“You have enough money to cover that? You want us to go into a zone the military just sent out orders to nuke? We have two hours to get it done, if you’re people aren’t there I’m leaving, and keeping the money.”

The line went dead. Marshall stared at the device in shock. They were going to bomb the area in question? Things just escalated to a whole new level of scary. He tossed some papers in his briefcase and grabbed a few other items without thinking.

“Liz, get in here, dammit,” he yelled.

A woman with pale skin, deep frown lines, and a tight bun on the back of her head poked her face in. “Yes, Sir?”

“I want you to go home, get your family and set the yacht up for operation in ninety minutes.”

Liz nodded and turned as she shut the door. Marshall stared at the monitors willing them to come back on but nothing occurred. He grabbed his coat and walked out the door. Time to get his ass moving.

***

Arthur heard movement near him, but the disorientation from the blast made everything sound like he was underwater. He moved a bit and let out a groan. Moments later, he felt hands on him, fingers checking his head and wiping a thick layer of white powder off his mask, then someone yanking him to his feet.

He glanced around in a daze and saw Frank. He looked like hell, his arm bloody and an odd-looking cast on it. Selena looked beautiful, but something about her smile toward him didn’t seem right. Ever since she took him aside and said, they needed to work as a team, because the others didn’t understand what it was like for civilians, he felt as if she was always watching him.

He shook his head and noticed the others were talking to him, pointing to his ears he covered them and said he couldn’t hear them. They nodded in understanding and as a group moved to the lower level.

The damage was catastrophic. The stairs were non-existent and long portions of rebar stuck out all over the place. How more of them weren’t more seriously injured or dead boggled his mind.

As they passed what was left of Lightfoot, Arthur felt a bit of bile rise in his throat. He fought it as he looked at Frank’s mask and saw the bits of vomit on his face. Arthur didn’t want to spend whatever time he had left like that, so he forced the taste of bile down.

As they entered the level that he and Smith vacated earlier, the magnitude of the destruction hit him. The ceiling was nothing but a tangle of melted wire and wrinkled vents. Cinder blocks and other large bits of concrete once part of the walls were now spread all over the place.

Fire illuminated the room, bursts of gas leaking from exposed lines, or insulated cables that hadn’t fully disintegrated yet. Cracks lined the floor and certain sections were gone entirely, fallen into the abyss of the lower levels. Water dripped in some sections, gushed from others.

The areas of wall blown out exposed dirt, and the old missile bay in certain parts. Arthur wondered how much longer the place would hold. With explosions still reverberating through the ground beneath them and the likelihood that other levels were loaded with Semtex packages as well, Arthur knew their very own doomsday clock had moved up several notches.

Frank walked to a burnt out control panel and pried the cover off with his good hand. Arthur cringed at the string of words that came out of the man’s mouth. Using the elevator was out of the question. Then again, even if it was working by some miracle of God, Arthur wouldn’t get in it on the off chance that’s what whoever was playing with them was waiting. The fact the shaft was now home to tons of rock and other debris, another good reason.

“Frank, if I could just say something,” Arthur started.

“Dr. Covington, unless it has to do with a way to get out of here, I don’t want to hear it,” Frank said.

Arthur determined what he wanted to say had something to do with getting out of there, so went ahead, “Please call me Arthur, and the way I see it there are two opposing teams. One wants us to succeed, the other doesn’t. We get a message to come to this level only to get ourselves blown up.” Arthur stopped talking to investigate a portion of the floor beneath his feet. “Anyway, it would seem neither one of our spies knows who their master is either. Otherwise, they would have tried to talk us out of coming here. So, we need to proceed with caution and trust our guts.” Arthur finished.

Frank walked over to him and put a hand on his shoulder. “Like I said, unless it has something to do with getting out of here, I don’t want to hear it, Doc,” Frank said.

Arthur sighed. “Then we need to go up. If you noticed, there were no explosions above this point. But we need to hurry before the basic structure is weakened so much that it caves in on itself.”

“You heard the man, back up to the main room.” Frank dropped the panel from his hand and walked out.

Arthur followed behind and helped the man as they struggled over several tons of rubble to reach the entryway. They were short at least six feet since the stairs had crumbled to baseball-sized rocks, so they worked with one another to make a human ladder. Since Frank was the strongest, he remained against the wall as the rest of the group used him to reach the next level.

Carson reached his hand down and with Smith and Arthur holding onto his legs, helped Frank up. Once they stood together again, they discovered the blast from below must have caused the floor in the current room to shatter, but it maintained its form due to all the support beams and rods of metal running through the six feet of cement.

In the dark, using only one flashlight to save on batteries, they sidled against the wall to reach the door on the other side. Arthur wondered what they were going to do if it was locked, and if it wasn’t, how long until the traitor among them showed their true colors.

***

Frank’s arm throbbed and he fought to remain conscious. Every time he felt close to losing it, he thought of Selena. He’d read about tragedy and drama bringing two people together and wondered if that was going on with them. Whatever it was, he liked it.

As he led the group, he thought about Lightfoot and felt like an ass for even thinking he might be a traitor. He hoped his friend didn’t die thinking Frank doubted his allegiance. Then he wondered what they would do if the door was locked. They could use one of the Semtex devices from Carson’s bag. The one good thing about what happened below was a kink must have been put in the gas line that had been leaking up here.