Rotter World (30 page)

Chapter Fifty-three

Robson turned away from the monitors, knowing if he watched the nightmare that was about to play out in the tunnel, he would be of no use here in the security room. He looked over at Jennifer, who frantically worked inside the fuse box.

“I could use power any time now.”

“It’s not gonna happen.” Jennifer glanced over her shoulder at him, her expression a mixture of anger and defeat. “Compton hosed this system pretty good. To fix it, I’m going to have to take everything off line, including the emergency lights, security cameras, and blast door.”

“Fuck.” Robson slammed his hand against the console.

“Sorry.”

“It’s not your fault.” He turned back to the monitors. Almost everyone was accounted for. The Angels were running down the tunnel to meet the rotter horde. Compton was down at the other end of the facility, waiting by the door to the air filtration room, with Dravko having just left the admin building and racing to him. O’Bannon entered his and Natalie’s room, with Tatyana not too far behind. Tibor was still heading down the stairs of the admin building, heading for the exit. The only person he could not find was Thompson, which made Robson nervous. The colonel knew enough about this facility to fuck up the situation even worse than it already was. The only locations Robson did not have visual access to were the two labs. He needed to know the colonel’s whereabouts.

“Don’t waste any more time trying to get that thing back on line. I need you to help me find Thompson.”

Jennifer stepped over to join him. “He’s not on any of the cameras?”

“No. But the two in the labs aren’t working. Can you check them out for me?”

“Sure.”

Jennifer headed for the door and ran out of the security room.

* * *

Thompson strained against the handcuffs, pulling on them as hard as he could to get that extra few inches without dislocating his shoulder, hoping to reach one of the drawers on the surrounding lab stations where he hopefully would find something to help him get free. Despite the ache in his muscles and the pain in his ball joint, he could not get the tips of his fingers closer than three inches to any of the handles.

He was weighing other options when the lights suddenly flicked out, leaving only the eerie red glow of the single emergency light above him. The sudden loss of electricity chilled his blood, though not because of the darkness. Two loud, metallic clicks accompanied the darkness. The colonel felt his heart rate spike as he watched the electronic locks on the inner and outer doors of the swarmer container disengage. The bolts slid back into their cylinders, allowing each door to pop open a few inches. It was enough.

One of the swarmers turned its head to the sound. Seeing the door ajar, it rushed over and shoved it open. With a moan of anticipation that Thompson heard even through the Plexiglas, the swarmer stumbled into the containment corridor and headed for the metal door leading into the lab. The others followed after him.

Grabbing the Taser off the exam table, Thompson set the voltage gauge to its highest setting
,
and clutched the weapon in his right hand. He stood chained to the exam table, ready to meet the onslaught.

* * *

The Angels rounded the corner where the U-shaped tunnel turned right toward the exit. They came to an abrupt halt. Fifty yards ahead was a mass of the living dead shambling toward them. They filled the tunnel, ten rotters wide and deeper than any of them could see. The reek from of hundreds of decayed bodies crammed into so confined a space overwhelmed Natalie’s senses, making her eyes water. Even worse was the overpowering stench that clogged her sinuses and mouth. She fought back the urge to gag by concentrating on the pervasive buzz from thousands of flies and wasps feeding off the living dead and each other.

On seeing the fresh meat in front of them, the horde moaned in unison, an ungodly wail that echoed off the walls, making it sound as if the Angels were surrounded. The rotters surged forward. Natalie noticed that several of her Angels backed away. She could almost smell the panic threatening to shatter their cohesion.

Stepping through her Angels, Natalie spun around and faced them, forcing the girls to focus on her rather than the rotters. “There’s no time for pep talks. We need to kill them if any of us want to make it out of here alive. So we fight until only one side is left standing. Are you ready?”

The sliding back of rifle bolts answered her question.

The first group of seven Angels and Caylee stepped forward and formed a line abreast across the tunnel. Each of them raised their weapons and lined up their sights on a rotter head.

“Don’t wait for my order,” said Natalie. “Fire whenever you’re ready.”

A volley of rifle fire shot down the tunnel. Seven rotter heads exploded, showering the tunnel walls and those behind them with skull fragments and chunks of gore. The bodies collapsed to the ground, finally at rest. Other rotters surged forward, filling the gap.

The horde slowly drew closer.

* * *

Outside of Robson’s room, O’Bannon withdrew his sidearm from its holster. He didn’t think Robson would be there, but wanted to be ready. O’Bannon pushed open the door and stepped inside, swinging the gun from one side of the room to the other. Once certain he was alone, he re-holstered the weapon. Crossing over to the small wooden desk, he rummaged through the folder of papers, looking for the one with the revised route back to camp. Several maps lay on top of the pile, but those were from the disastrous run down here. He tossed them onto the floor, searching for the correct ones.

“What are you doing in here?”

O’Bannon glanced over his shoulder to see Tatyana blocking the door.

“I asked you a question.”

“Can’t you hear the alarm?” O’Bannon went back to sorting through the papers. “Robson asked me to make sure the maps were safe.”

“I doubt that.” She entered the room, still hovering by the door. “What were you doing with Compton a few minutes ago?”

Tatyana’s voice made him nervous. It was cold and harsh, and slightly inhuman. He had heard that tone before from vampires trying to control their anger, when they struggled against the urge to let their emotions take control and to morph into their vampiric form. Because her intentions were uncertain, at this moment she posed a menace. With his back still to Tatyana so she could not see what he was doing, O’Bannon slid the cloth pouch from inside his jacket and placed it onto the desk.

“Are you spying on me?”

“Do you blame me?” Tatyana moved closer, her manner stalking.

O’Bannon opened the flaps of the pouch, exposing the three hypodermic needles.

“You lied to me.” Her steps as she approached were slow and steady.

He removed two of the hypodermic needles from their slits and placed them on the table.

“You treated me worse than a common whore.” She stalked up directly behind him.

He removed the plastic covers to the needles and plungers, then clutched one hypodermic in each fist, the needles extending beyond the bottom of his hands, his thumbs on the plungers.

“You took advantage of me,” Tatyana hissed. O’Bannon felt her cold dead breath against the hairs on the back of his neck.

“I didn’t hear you complaining as I fucked you.”

“You used me.” The snarl was purely animalistic, intermingled with the grinding of fangs. Tatyana grabbed O’Bannon by the shoulders and spun him around. As he expected, she had morphed into her vampiric form, leaving behind little semblance of her human beauty. The soft skin had hardened, becoming dark and leathery. The silky hair that once flowed over her shoulders now hung in clumpy strands. Deep furrows along the brow and the pulled back cheeks distorted her face. A pair of blood red eyes sunk deep into their sockets glowered at him, the adoration they once held now replaced by hatred and feral lust for his blood. She clutched the collar of his shirt with hands deformed into talons and lifted him into the air. Her lower jaw dropped open, exposing a gaping maw filled with jagged fangs. Tatyana twisted her head, aiming for his neck.

“Now it’s my turn to use you.”

O’Bannon sneered. “Not just yet, bitch.”

He brought his hands up between Tatyana’s outstretched arms, jamming the hypodermic needles into her neck as she bent over to feed on him. He shoved his thumbs on the plungers, injecting Tatyana with two lethal doses of the Zombie Virus. She released her grip and stumbled backwards, slamming into the corner of one of the bunk beds, the hypodermics still stuck into her neck. Clutching at her throat, she began ripping away the flesh with her talons, trying to tear out the infection.

“It burns!” she bellowed.

“Of course it burns.” O’Bannon turned back to the table and quickly rummaged through the remaining maps. “I just injected you with enough of the rotter virus to turn every one of us into one of those things in minutes.”

Tatyana reached up with a shaky hand, clasped one of the hypodermics in an uncertain grip, and yanked it free. The needle broke off in her neck, while the plastic vial tumbled out of her grip and clattered to the floor. She tried to talk but, her voice came in rasps.

“I’m g-going to make you p-pay for that.”

“I doubt it.” O’Bannon found the maps and pulled them out of the folder. Folding them in half lengthwise, he slid them into the inner pocket of his jacket. When he spun around to face Tatyana, he was shocked to see how rapidly the virus had worked. Her complexion had turned sallow and lifeless, with black blotches and exposed spots of decay erupting through the skin. The red eyes had glossed over, becoming pink and smoky. Blood drained from her mouth, blackened and partially congealed, forming clumps that plopped to the floor. “You’ll be dead any second now.”

Mustering what little strength she had left, Tatyana snarled and attempted to lunge at O’Bannon. He didn’t even bother moving aside. She took two shaky steps and dropped to her knees, tottering unsteadily for a moment before falling forward. Her face slammed into the floor with a loud crack. Tatyana twitched violently once before her body went slack. A hushed sigh slipped from her throat as the remnants of her life passed from her.

O’Bannon reached behind and grabbed the pouch, folding the flaps closed to protect the last hypodermic needle. As he headed for the door, he didn’t even cast a glance at Tatyana, his only thought being to clear the area quickly before she reanimated.

* * *

The swarmers poured out of the Plexiglas cage and into the small corridor separating the two steel biohazard doors. Though ajar, the outer door slammed shut under their weight, providing Thompson with a temporary reprieve. He looked up at the camera, hoping to get help from whoever was on duty in the guard room. His heart sank when he saw the coaxial cables and power cord dangling from its rear panel. Grabbing the restraints of the handcuffs with his right hand, he pushed the metal as hard as he could, trying to slide it over his hand. It went as far as the joint of his thumb and stopped, straining against the bone. Damn. That left him with only one option.

Pulling the handcuffs farther up his wrist, Thompson tightly gripped the metal restraint and took a deep breath. He jerked the cuff down toward his hand, slamming the metal into the thumb joint. Despite bracing himself, he screamed as the metal shattered the bone. His thumb went limp and bent inward at an awkward angle, but the cuffs slid over his hand and along his fingers. At least he was free.

The sound of swarmer moaning increased, causing Thompson to look over his shoulder. One of the swarmers had discovered the edge of the steel door and had pried it open enough to push its head through. It stretched its neck toward Thompson, decayed, gore-encrusted teeth snapping the air. Shoving its left arm through the opening, it clawed at the metal, desperately trying to get free.

Most of the swarmer’s torso was through the door when Thompson scooped the Taser from off the exam table and rushed over. It opened its jaw wide in anticipation of food, presenting a prime target. The colonel placed the weapon against the swarmer’s forehead and squeezed the trigger. Hundreds of volts were discharged, arching through the creature’s skull. One of its eyes exploded. Froth formed around its partially-chewed-off lips. It convulsed violently as the electrical current cooked its brain, burning out what little motor function remained.

Rather than buy him a few extra seconds to escape, his stunt shortened it. The electric crack and death howl startled the other swarmers enough that they pulled back from the door. As the pressure against it eased, the door sprung open. The fried swarmer’s corpse collapsed across the jamb, lodging it in place. With their path now clear, the swarmers jumped over the body and rushed into the lab.

Thompson already had dashed for the exit and might have made it were it not for his injury. He grabbed the knob, but because of his broken thumb he could not get a good grip, his hand slipping off the metal. Placing the Taser between his left arm and torso, he used the right to open the door. Before he could get out, the swarmers attacked.

The colonel grabbed the Taser from under his arm and jammed it into the neck of the first one to reach him, the female in the white lab coat. Its arms and head flailed as the current passed through its body, but the effort was not enough to save him. The remaining fifteen swarmers lunged at the colonel from both sides. Decayed hands yanked at his clothes and dug into his skin. Thompson raised his arms in front of him and swung them from side to side as he backed up, trying to break their grip, but there were too many. He tumbled over backwards, with the three closest swarmers collapsing on top of him. Once on the ground, the colonel didn’t stand a chance.