The Last Bastion of the Living: A Futuristic Zombie Novel (8 page)

Maria stared at the group uneasily. They were heavily armed and carried extra clips of precious ammunition on their belts.

The sound of the train roaring toward the station
lured
Maria back to her bags. She yanked the straps over her shoulders as the leader of the squad scrutinized her. They were of equal rank, but the other woman was from the SWD, not the Constabulary.
There was little love lost between the two divisions.

Hot air blasted out of the tunnel as the sleek train skimmed to a stop. The train consisted of only two cars plus the electric locomotive. The doors of the second car slid open
and a
short male with dark curly hair stepped out.

“Vanguard Martinez,” he called out.

Still under the watchful eye of the squad leader, Maria stepped forward. Lifting her wrist, she swept it over the pad the conductor extended. Reading the results displayed on its surface, the man gave her a short nod of his head.

Once on
board, Maria took a seat, still watching the squad as it stood silently waiting for the train to depart.

The conductor glanced at the search and destroy squad, but said nothing as he took his seat. He was from the SWD, but his black uniform
didn
’
t
have any signifiers of rank or even a name tag. The train sounded an alarm then pitched forward, the station platform swiftly disappearing from Maria
’
s view.

The dim lights of the car
did
n
o
t
hing to enhance the dull gunmetal color of the floor and walls. The seats were thinly padded and had long ago stopped being comfortable. The monitors that had probably been used at one time to entertain the passengers were silent and dark on the wall. Maria adjusted her bags, straightened her uniform and peered out the window. It was completely black outside the glass. Not even emergency lights illuminated the tunnel. Only the bright blue lights on the train
’
s exterior glowed weakly into the darkness.

“How often does the train run?” Maria asked.

“When it
’
s needed, which isn
’
t often,” the nameless man with the curly hair and ambiguous uniform answered in an equally featureless voice.

“Who are you?” she asked impulsively, swiveling in her seat toward him.

“Your escort,” he answered.

She became aware of the pistol strapped to his thigh and arched her brow. He ignored her. She fought the feeling of discomfort slithering into her soul. Folding her arms over her breasts, she glowered at her shiny boots. She had nothing to fear. All would be well once she was outside the wall, immune to the
Inferi Scourge
, and slaughtering them.

Ten minutes later the train
’
s alarm sounded. Glancing out into the darkness, Maria started when the glow of the train lights flowed over the form of a person standing next to the tracks. The impression of a tattered uniform and ragged face made her jerk away from the window.

“What is it?” the blank man asked.

“I saw someone standing near the tracks.”

“Maintenance,” the man answered dismissively.

She replayed the image in her mind
’
s eye and suspected that her mind had filled in the other details. She was still tightly wound from her earlier scare. He was probably right. She had seen a maintenance worker and her mind had altered him into an
Scourge
.

Maria grasped her bags while the train slid past heavy blast doors that clanged shut the instant the last car was clear. The SWD station was filled with light as the train
slid to a stop. Another heavily-
armed search and destroy squad stood on the platform.

Suddenly, Maria wasn
’
t too sure she was imagining things. She gave the man beside her an accusatory glare.
“They
’
re in the subway system, aren
’
t they?”

The doors opened and her escort gestured for her to depart without responding to her
allegation
.

“What did I see in the tunnel?” she persisted.

“Someone in maintenance,” he answered imperturbably.

“Then why all of this?” She indicated the waiting squad.

“Routine patrols.” Again, he motioned for her to disembark.

Unnerved, Maria exited the train. A quick examination of her surroundings revealed two machine gun nests positioned on a second level facing the heavily fortified blast doors that sealed off the tunnel.

The search and destroy squad brushed past her as they filed into the train.

“Routine, my ass,” she muttered.

Her wristlet beeped and she tapped it.

“Welcome to the Science Warfare Division Facility. Please proceed to the terminal.”
A simple and to
-
the
-
point message.

Following the directions, Maria departed the station and bounded up a narrow stairway that led to another set of heavy doors. A guard scanned her wristlet, keyed open the door, and waved her through.

Stepping into the main terminal, Maria swallowed hard. It was filled with seek and destroy patrols.

C
hapter 6

Mr. Petersen emerged from the gathering of SWD patrols, his starched white suit a vivid contrast to the all-black armor of the soldiers. He slightly inclined his head as he approached Maria.

“Seems you have a lot going on around here,” Maria said, her voice sounding a bit clipped even to her own ears.

“There is some excitement,” Mr. Petersen admitted, slightly shrugging. He was as unperturbed and collected as he had been during their previous interview.

“I saw something in the subway tunnel,” Maria said boldly.

“Did you?” Mr. Petersen started to walk.

Maria fell into step beside him, shifting her bags to her other shoulder. They thumped against her back as she wove her way through the squads waiting to be dispatched. “They
’
re in the tunnels, aren
’
t they?”

“We can never be too vigilant when fighting against the
Inferi Scourge
,” Mr. Petersen answered vaguely.

“How did they get in?”

Guiding her out of the main terminal, Mr. Petersen tucked his hands behind his back and studied her expression. “Whatever makes you believe
they
’
re
in the tunnels?”

“I saw something.”

“What did you see?”

Maria started to answer, but faltered. The truth was, she wasn
’
t really sure if she had seen one of the
Scourge
, or if it had just been a maintenance worker. “I saw a search and destroy squad at the station where I was picked up. They had what looked like a body bag, and something was in it.”

“There are regular patrols in the tunnels. The teams take equipment to run a variety of tests. I am certain that is what you saw them carrying.”

“And all of the squads back there? Where are they going?”

“Routine patrols for all the tunnel systems under the city. Sewer, maintenance, subway...” Mr. Petersen shrugged. “You just happened to arrive on a very busy day.” Stopping before a lift, he swiped his wristlet over the console and the doors slid open. “After you.”

The cold sterility of the SWD headquarters and all she had seen had her on edge. Staring into the lift, she felt her gut twist. Maria
’
s instincts were fine-tuned, and she believed in them implicitly. The action of boarding the elevator unexpectedly had a finality that unnerved her to the core of her being. She inhaled through her lips and steeled her resolve.

Maria entered the elevator after Mr. Petersen. Turning on her heel, she faced the closing doors.

“The mission you volunteered for is going to go down in history,” Mr. Petersen said in a warmer tone. It was as if he sensed her discomfort. “It
’
s a brave and wondrous task, and will have far-reaching ramifications for all of humanity.”

Unable to find the right words to speak, Maria opted to nod her head instead. There was no indicator as to whether the elevator was rising or descending. Only the steady hum of the elevator motor and slight vibration gave any hint of its movement through the shaft.

When at last the elevator doors opened, Maria was struck by the glaring whiteness of the walls. She was so used to the dingy grayness of the city, the bright lights reflecting off the sterile white walls was almost blinding. Her boot heels echoed as Mr. Petersen led her down a corridor devoid of any activity, which was disconcerting after the constant crush of bodies and cramped living space in the rest of the city.

“I will show you to your room, and then you will be summoned for the examinations to prepare you for the inoculation,” Mr. Petersen informed her.

“I don
’
t understand. What do you mean
‘
prepared
’
?”

“Though your recent medical examinations reveal you to be in perfect health, we will be taking one last look at your vitals before administering the antidote,” Mr. Petersen e
xplained. “Nothing too invasive. J
ust a simple physical exam.”

Her hands felt clammy and she realized she was far more afraid than she had believed she would be. “And you
’
re sure this will work?”

“Of course,” Mr. Petersen responded confidently. “We wouldn
’
t want to imperil one of our best, would we?”

After several turns, he finally opened a door that led into a much shorter corridor. Doors lined both sides in regular intervals; security cameras rotated slowly overhead.

“This one is yours. I advise you to quickly unpack and change into your fatigues,” Mr. Petersen said as he swiped his wristlet and the door opened.

The room was long and narrow with the shower, sink, and toilet stall at the far end. A simple bed was tucked into a recess in the wall, and a small desk with a matching chair fit into a corner next to a narrow wardrobe.
It wasn
’
t much smaller than her flat.

Maria stepped into the room and slung her bags onto the bed. The door hissed shut behind her and she was grateful to find herself alone. Mr. Petersen unnerved her far more than she cared to admit.

Before slipping out of her uniform, she quickly stowed her personal effects utilizing the bins tucked under the bed. Taking great care, she hung the charcoal-colored trousers and matching jacket in the wardrobe. She tried to smooth out the slight wrinkling with her hands and was careful to make sure the jacket was hanging correctly so it would retain its shape. The Roses had always done such a great job caring for her uniforms. As she thought of her sweet neighbors, she felt a twinge of regret that she had not visited them one last time.

A small black box that held her medals and her miniature Bible, a gift from her father, was placed on the top shelf of the wardrobe. Inside the Bible was a folded photo he had given her on her sixteenth birthday. It was a snapshot of a ten year old Maria dressed up in her father
’
s uniform. A wide smile graced her tiny face that was dwarfed by his helmet and the sleeves and trouser legs were rolled up with a belt cinching the jacket. Being an old-fashioned sort, her father had not only printed the photo, but had scribbled a message on the back. As a teenager she had not understood why he hadn
’
t just transmitted the image to her wristlet, but ten years later, the tattered, wrinkled photo was a treasured possession.

Once her personal effects were tucked away, she washed her face and freshened up. The lighting over the sink was quite bright, and as she peered into the mirror, she studied the faint scars decorating her neck and cheek that were clearly visible in the harsh light. Thankfully, the marks were not nearly as noticeable as the thick keloids decorating her stomach, side, and back.

The wristlet hummed on her arm, alerting her of an incoming message. For a moment she hoped it was Dwayne, but it was from Mr. Petersen informing her that he would be escorting her to the lab, and was on his way.

When he arrived exactly
ten minutes later
, she was dressed in her casual trousers, t-shirt, blouse, and heavy combat boots. The journey to the lab was short and silent after his initial greeting. Again, she noticed the disturbing lack of people and noise in the long corridors.

At last, they entered an examination room filled with various types of medical equipment. A large vid-screen took up one whole wall, and a very tall blond woman stood before a work station studying the data scrolling across the surface of the monitors before her.

“This is Dr. Beverly Curran. Beverly, this is Vanguard Maria Martinez,” Mr. Petersen said by way of introduction.

Beverly Curran glanced at Maria briefly before returning to her work. “Good evening, Vanguard Martinez. Please take off your blouse and get on the treadmill,” the doctor said, gesturing toward
the exercise equipment nestled a
midst the monitoring machines. Her eyes
didn
’
t
stray from the screen before her.

Obeying, Maria
couldn
’
t
help but wonder what was holding the doctor
’
s rapt attention. After hanging her blouse from a hook set into the wall, she stepped onto the treadmill.

Finally pulling her gaze away from her readouts, the doctor strode over to the treadmill, quickly activated it, and set the controls.

“You
’
ve done this before, you know how it works,” Dr. Curran said simply.

“Yes, I do.”

Dr. Curran nodded, then returned to her station. Mr. Petersen
didn
’
t
leave the room as Maria had expected, but lingered at the doctor
’
s side.

The large screen flickered to life, readouts beginning to scroll as a thermal image of Maria
’
s body appeared. Maria glanced at it briefly
,
then concentrated on her breathing, finding her running rhythm. Having endured countless tests before she had been allowed to return to duty, she was a little bored by the whole process
,
but not particularly worried. Except for her scarring, a missing kidney, and damaged reproductive system, she knew she was in good health. As the treadmill
’
s speed increased, she easily matched its pace.

“She
’
s in perfect health despite her past injuries,” Dr. Curran murmured.

“Her readings are superb,” Mr. Petersen agreed.

“Excellent readings on her cardiovascular system,” Dr. Curran noted.

As Maria listened to the two people discuss the status of her health as if she wasn
’
t even in the room, her thoughts began to drift. She could see the image changing and at one point was fascinated to see her internal organs animated on the screen.

Sweat trickled down her spine and between her breasts as the pace continued to accelerate. The heavy thud of her boot heels against the belt was a steady beat.

The doctor lowered her voice as she spoke to Mr. Petersen and their hushed
conversation
lured
Maria
’
s attention to them
. They both appeared excited and pleased with the data scrolling across the large screen.

After the treadmill, Maria submitted to a variety of tests and watched as samples she provided were examined and evaluated. As the hours wore on, Dr. Curran appeared increasingly pleased with all the results. The blond woman
’
s stern expression even broke into a smile a few times.

“Excellent, excellent,” she muttered to Maria.

“So I
’
m a good candidate for the serum?” Maria finally asked after being instructed to don her blouse.

“Absolutely,” Dr. Curran responded
,
giving her a slight smile.

Up close the doctor appeared older than Maria had first thought, with fine lines around her eyes and strands of white mixed in with the blond. The woman
’
s face was narrow with high cheekbones and a long nose. Her gray eyes were striking, but her thin mouth tended to frown, already forming lines in the corners.

“Good. I
’
m ready to do this,” Maria assured her.

“Let
’
s have a talk, shall we?” Dr. Curran suggested, gathering her pad and striding toward the door.

Mr. Petersen walked behind Maria as she followed the doctor. Dr. Curran moved with a quick gait, her long hair flowing behind her. She led Maria through several thick doors, moving her deeper into the SWD facility through lab areas, offices, and corridors filled with doctors and nurses. The noise and bustle was welcome after the disquieting silence upon her arrival.

Dr. Curran entered a small room with a table set in the center
and
several chairs circling it. The metallic walls were highly reflective and Maria noticed her form was a fractured image on the surface.

Taking a chair, Maria rested her hands on her lap. The sterile environment and grueling tests had worn on her nerves. She was uncertain what she had expected once she had reported for the mission, but her level of discomfort surprised her. She felt as though she were being k
ept in the dark about something. T
hat some important bit of information was not being divulged.

The doctor and Mr. Petersen sat across from her. Mr. Petersen folded his arms over his chest, his bland face expressionless
while
Dr. Curran entered some final notes into her pad.

“May I ask a question?” Maria asked as she finally grasped what was bothering her.

“Of course,” Dr. Curran answered, not looking up.

“This is a safe procedure, this serum…what
you
’
re
giving me. It
’
s safe for me to take?”