Orpheus (38 page)

Mutt raised his voice. "Well I don't give a chicken-fried fuck!" The zombies reacted to this and became agitated.

Jen noticed this and put a hand on Mutt's cheek. She held his gaze. "Mutt, calm, you're like my father, calm down..."

That did the trick, and the zombies returned to their docile state as soon as Mutt came down. "Hit me again, Jen." She dosed him. "Sorry, but I'm not going to let you be anywhere near these things when I set them off. You just saw why."

Ethan couldn't really argue, so he didn't try. “Chicken-fried fuck?”

Mutt smiled. “If you really want to do something, we still need a ride, and I have an idea where you can get one." Ethan listened, and within minutes had a gun to the helicopter pilot's head, while Dr. Vincent seethed in the co-pilot's seat.

* * *

The only place that made any sense to hole up was the conference room that they'd just liberated Orpheus from. Lena was still in there. She looked like she'd been through the wringer, but she was alive.

Sam wanted to keep all of them the same way, and knowing what was about to descend on this hallway, he had to move fast. There had to be over a dozen Scythe agents situated down the hall, hiding in doorways and sending automatic fire down the hall at the intruders who were similarly entrenched. He'd spoken the truth about the standoff, but it couldn't last forever. They were running low on ammo, and it was only a matter of time before they ran out, or, more likely, someone on Scythe thought to send some people up the other stairwell behind Sam and just overwhelm them from two directions.

At least Anders had been silenced (by Ethan?), and that had bought them some time, time which was now running short.

With Orpheus and Mutt both out of the picture, everyone looked to him for leadership, and he didn't want to let them down. He ordered each of them, in turn, to get into the conference room: first Tim, then Fish, and now it was Rachel's turn. She'd been last because she'd been closest, and in the best position to provide covering fire for the other two.

"Rachel! Conference room! Now!"

She was a good soldier and followed his order immediately. She ducked in the room, out of the line of fire, and blindfired a few more rounds to cover Sam.

The conference room looked like it was a mile away.
Forty feet. Ten across, thirty down. That's all.

Sam swapped out for his last fresh magazine, psyched himself up, and ran for the door. He began to empty his magazine to cover himself. Rachel and Fish added what they could, as well.

When Sam felt something explode in his midsection, he knew it wasn't enough. He felt another impact in his chest. His rifle flew from his hands and he crashed to the floor ten feet from his goal. He rolled onto his back and his hands flew to his wounds. He'd been a soldier for a long time in his youth, and he knew that just one of these wounds would probably be fatal on the battlefield, and that's exactly where he was. Both wounds? Certain death.

He turned his head and looked at the door. Fish, emotional as always, wrestled with Tim just inside the doorway. It was evident that Fish wanted to charge headlong into the hall and rescue his friend. That was Fish in a nutshell: a fiercely loyal kamikaze. Tim, on the other hand, looked devastated, but still kept his head about him enough to realize the folly of it. Sam hoped that he would take control until the others got back.

The girl? He couldn't read her. She seemed unsure of what to do, but still had the presence of mind to notice the Scythe agent who thought to take the opportunity to move up, and she put one in his shoulder. He collapsed in a doorway, hopefully dead. Sam didn't think anyone else would be that dumb, because all they had to do was wait.

"Sam! You clear?"

He fumbled for his radio. He pressed it to his mouth and said, "Yeah." His vision got blurry, but he blinked the fuzziness away and it ran down his temples. "We're clear. Thanks, Mutt."

His death was no longer in question, so he felt free to use all of his energy in one final burst. "Rachel...they're coming! Get everyone inside!"

"Save your strength, Sam! We'll get you!"

"Just stay inside!" It hurt like Hell to scream, but he wanted to get his point across.

She didn't shut the door. She swept her eyes back and forth along the corridor, looking for all the world like she was trying to form a plan to save a man who couldn't be saved.

He admired her tremendously just then. He didn't care if it was his place to be proud of her or not. He simply was. His dying mind began to wander, and he became jealous that Orpheus would eventually be able to call her daughter. He wished he'd gotten to know Ethan better. He wished he'd had the chance to say his goodbyes. He wished he'd be around to make the ones responsible pay. He wished he'd been a better protector of the people on the island. He wished more than anything that he'd made more time for Gwen when they were younger. He wished he'd fought harder for her. He wished that she thought of him the same way from time to time.

He wished, he wished, he wished...then he saw the mass of bodies appear at the end of the corridor, and knew that the time for wishing was over.

The time for reaping was here.

* * *

Mutt sweated profusely and shivered, and only some of it was due to the strain of keeping his sickness at bay. He was about to give
carte blanche
to the very things he'd been fighting, killing, and running from for an eternity, it seemed. It was almost over, in more ways than one. The zombies were crowding him so closely in the stairwell that he found it difficult to move. He'd never been claustrophobic, but he understood it a little better now. He felt like it was becoming harder to control them. The reality was that it was becoming harder to control
himself.

Jen had used the last bit of treatment on him; all that was left was the antidote, and he'd need it soon. He had to unleash his followers first, and he needed his infection to do that. He'd need to get them back under control long enough to clear them out, too. Then, and only then, could he fix himself.

"You walk through the first door you see and lock yourself in, if you can."

"Okay."

He pushed to the front of the mob, Jen in tow. He turned the knob and opened the door.

When he stepped out in the hallway, the first thing he saw was several black-suited bodies lying in the hallway, all but one apparently dead. The other seemed to be yelling, but Mutt couldn't make it out. Then the surviving Scythe members turned and saw him just before he backed into the sea of undead again. He nodded to the door on his right. "Go there now. And give me that antidote; I'm going to have to take it fast."

She stood on the tips of her toes and kissed him on the cheek. "You got it. Be careful." She walked gingerly to the door, and had to nudge a few zombies aside to open the door. They seemed not to notice, and she disappeared into whatever room that was.

The gunshots started, but Mutt was safely behind the masses. He thought about all of the things he'd gone through since the outbreak, and the anger began to rise. The zombies began to first shift back and forth on their feet, then bounce off of each other. Their increased aggression was evident, and it would only take a little push to send them into a rage.

Mutt thought about the first day, the first hours, and those poor people who'd been trapped in the bathroom. They had begged for help, and he couldn't come through for them. Worse, he didn't have the guts to do what Holt did. With that thought, he released all of the frustration and rage that he'd held in. He bellowed, and the zombies shot forward like so many bullets. They swept over the screaming Scythe agents, their gunfire a mere annoyance to them.

Mutt let the cork off of his own rage and kept pace.

* * *

Ethan caught up to Dr. Vincent while the helicopter powered up. He put a gun to the pilot's head. The pilot, Jameson, was quickly convinced to take his hands off of the controls and put them on the instrument panel. Ethan started yelling instructions, but Jameson mimed that he couldn't hear and pointed to a headset. Ethan nodded, and the pilot slowly grabbed it and handed it to him. Ethan put the headset on, and began to speak. He backed up a few paces so he could keep an eye on both pilot and passenger.

"You're not going anywhere yet."

"Dude, chill out. I'm listening."

"I got people who'll need a ride."

"If they make it. It's gone all pear-shaped down there."

"Yeah, I know. I brought it here."

The pilot studied him. "Holy shit. You're the Holt kid."

Ethan didn't confirm it, but the pilot knew.

"Your dad one of your 'people'?"

"Yeah."

"How many you got?"

"Six."

"Doable. Stupid question, though: where are we going to go? This building is fucked, and it's all we had left."

"The mainland."

"Say no to drugs, kid."

"You call me 'kid' again I'm going to shoot you in your ass."

"Yup, you're Holt's kid, uh, son, all right."

"The mainland's clear. Everything's clear. Ask that asshole."

He turned to Dr. Vincent. "What's he talking about, Doc?"

Dr. Vincent nervously drummed his fingers against his thigh, but didn't speak, and it had nothing to do with his lack of headset.

"You have a radio on this thing?"

"Yeah! Can run it through the headsets, too!"

"Pick a station!"

Jameson did, and they both heard some bubblegum pop song. Jameson's eyes opened impossibly wide. "Oh, are you fucking kidding me?!?" Jameson drew his own sidearm like lightning and put it in the doctor's face. "What did you do?"

"Whoa! Don't shoot him yet! Shorthand, the island was a big experiment, and everyone else thinks we're all dead."

"So why can't I shoot him?"

"You can totally shoot him, just not now! We might need him! Right now, I need you to wait for us!"

Jameson didn't drop his firearm. "All-fuckin'-right. I'm no murderer, and I sure as Hell ain't a coward. But first zombie I see up here, I'm gone."

"If you leave, a lot of good people will die. Including me, my dad, and my girlfriend. I want you to know that."

"I'll wait as long as I can. That's the best I can do. And I'll keep this dick alive, for now."

Ethan took the man at his word. He knew it was a big risk, but it was just the latest in a long line of them.

* * *

"Sammy! SAMMY!!!" Fish lost it as soon as Sam went down, and Tim had his hands full keeping him from charging out and joining him in death. Lena was alternating between trying to talk him down, being a mess herself, and recovering from her near-asphyxiation.

Rachel didn't know what to do, so she just kept talking to Sam in what she hoped were comforting tones. "Sam, just don't move. We'll get you. You'll be okay."

The frequency of the gunshots suddenly increased and sounded different, as if they were going the other direction. She dared to peek around the corner and saw why. A crowd of zombies streamed into the corridor and swept over the Scythe agents. They went down screaming one-by-one. It gave her a perverse satisfaction that scared her, but it also motivated her. This was her chance to get Sam inside.

She stepped out and kept low. He tried to order her back inside, but only succeeded in a series of weak movements that looked more like flirty waves. She wrapped her hands around his wrist and began to pull. He tried to wriggle out of her grip and hissed at her to get her skinny ass inside. She ignored him and kept at it. He was a solid guy, and it took her a second to get him moving. She was no doubt causing him pain; Sam groaned and grimaced.

She'd gotten him a few feet, leaving a horrifying two-foot-wide swath of crimson in his wake, when two zombies that had broken from the pack entered her periphery. She cried out and threw herself on top of Sam without thinking. The zombies fell on her and started tearing and biting. She heard Tim screaming for Fish to get the fuck out of the way. Her jacket held, but they were relentless. Sam did his best to fight them off from underneath, and lost two fingers for the effort. Rachel felt a searing pain at the base of her neck. She bucked the thing off and kicked it backwards. At first, she thought that she'd just lost a clump of hair, but she soon realized what it had been.

Teeth. Broken, jagged, zombie teeth.

She screamed from a combination of pain and despair. "AAAAHHHHH!!!"

She heard gunshots and the two zombies fell still on either side of her.

Ethan slid across the floor and grabbed her. "Oh fuck, oh Christ..."

The young lovers felt themselves getting manhandled. "GET THE FUCK INSIDE!!!" Fish and Tim pulled them inside and slammed the door shut just as more zombies came for them. The door shook in its frame from the pounding.

Rachel wiped at her neck and stared at the blood on her palm. She felt it running down her neck, as well. The blood didn't bother her. What was now
in
her blood horrified her. "Ogodogodogod..."