The Phoenix Trilogy (Book 1): World On Fire (22 page)

    Slowly,
BJ set down his pack, reaching inside to dig for something. A moment later he
drew it out, but Natalie wasn’t able to make out what it was. It almost looked
like a drum, round and flat on one side, and the idea sent a spark of
apprehension down Natalie’s spine. Was he searching for something he could use
to distract the dead? It wouldn’t surprise her if BJ decided to take the road
of the martyr, but she wasn’t about to go along with that plan.

    “If
I’m right about the window being trapped, then I have a plan. If I’m wrong,
we’ll still be safe.” Natalie’s nerves were on edge even as BJ began to explain
his actions. He was setting the drum-like object down, facing it out toward the
street, and a brief shine on its surface revealed what it was: a portable
emergency light. Knowing what it was did little to explain to Natalie what BJ
had in mind.

    “I’d
bet money that if we try to go inside this building, we’re going to set off an
alarm or similar noisemaker. Here’s what we’re going to do: Marco, Natalie,
you’re going to wait at the back of the alley. Rico, you’re going to take the
spotlight. I’m going to trigger whatever we’ve got in store for us, and then
I’m going to move behind the light. As soon as I do, Rico, turn it on.” Even as
BJ spoke, Natalie felt another pang of uncertainty. She shook it from her mind,
determined to at least hear the rest of BJ’s plan out. He’d earned more than
enough of her respect to grant that.

    “The
enemy won’t investigate the light if I’m right about there being an alarm.
They’ll rush inside the building to search, and the spotlight will torch their
ability to see us in the dark. Once they’re in, we take the road again.” Even
as BJ spoke, Marco knocked at Natalie’s shoulder and took his place at the
alley’s back wall. Rico settled down at the spotlight, and seeing no other
choice, Natalie did as she was told and joined Marco.

    There
were a dozen things that could go wrong, but this did seem to be their best
shot at escaping with their lives. She only hoped that their mysterious
trapmaster hadn’t accounted for this possibility. Considering how ludicrous the
whole idea sounded to Natalie, she had to guess that this move was
unpredictable, but there was only one way to find out.

    BJ found
his way to the window, and Natalie braced herself for action. With surprising
grace, the burly man hurled the window open and leapt into cover behind the
spotlight. Just as he had suggested, a trumpeting blare echoed out from within,
and Rico hit the lights.

    Natalie
was nearly forced to close her eyes at the sight in front of her. The spotlight
was powerful, and with the illumination it granted to the rushing horde of
undead ahead of her, there was no room left to her imagination. Every scrap of
rotten skin hanging from their bodies, every festering wound or mangled grin,
all of it was brought into perfect definition.

    Accompanying
it was a foul palette of overwhelming scents: blood, sweat, rot, bile and
excrement. It was impossible to define them all, and every time Natalie began
to ignore a particularly putrid sensation, another took its place. She needed
to get out, escape and get fresh air, but she was forced to wait it out, to
suffer through this twisted cavalcade.

    Natalie
felt her stomach begin to heave, her mind straining to resist her body’s demand
to purge her system.
This is too much. This is all too fucking much. I
can’t. I can’t do this.
Tears had started to roll down her cheeks, and in
the midst of her breakdown, she was barely able to notice that their plan was
working.

    It
was going exactly as BJ had said, but as Natalie started to sink deeper into
her own anxiety, a sudden explosion jarred her back to reality. It had come
from within the building and only served to entice the ravening mob further,
although the alarm had died immediately afterward.  

    
It took only a couple of minutes before
the street appeared to be clear, but it felt like an eternity.
Another bomb?
What the Hell are we even up against?
BJ lunged forward, quickly snapping
up the spotlight and shoving it back into his pack. Natalie was inclined to
follow his lead; escape first, then contemplate how royally fucked they
actually were later.

    The
building was rattling with noise from the undead inside, but they’d only made
it five steps back onto the road when Natalie heard a sound from nearby, her
head cocking automatically to see if she could catch something else. She tried
to convince herself that it was just her senses playing tricks on her, but she
could have sworn she’d heard someone giggle. If the others had picked up on it,
they didn’t show any concern, and she was forced to return her attention to
their journey as BJ rapidly plowed ahead.

    They
were moving nearly at a sprint once again, and Natalie was expecting another
death trap at any second. Turn after turn, she followed behind, ready for the
next alarm or detonation to throw her off balance.

    She’d
totally lost track of the time as the adrenaline took over, so when they
rounded a corner and were immediately blinded by massive floodlights, she
expected the worst.

    Instead,
it was a burst of triumphant laughter from Rico that first told her they had
finally made it. The outpost was here, and judging by the quick exchange of
words from BJ and the guards at the lights, it was still standing.

    It
almost felt like a dream. The gate ahead creaked open just enough to usher them
inside, and then she was being escorted into a booth by a grim-faced soldier.
BJ and the others were each separated into their own, and Natalie felt suddenly
naked without them by her side.

    As
soon as they were inside the security checkpoint, her escort noticed the
scratches and cuts that Natalie had gotten when the grenade went off at the
apartments. He didn’t seem particularly alarmed, which struck her as being a
good sign. He gestured for Natalie to remove her pack and weapons, snatching
them up as soon as she had complied. Natalie found herself surprised; being
without BJ and the others had been uncomfortable, but only now did she truly
feel vulnerable.

    “Strip.
Now.” The soldier shifted his position and handed her gear over to another man
who appeared to be a clerk of some kind. His eyes never left Natalie as he gave
the order for her to disrobe, a slow knot forming in her stomach. She paused
for a moment, caught off-guard by the sudden command, still trying to process
that any of this was even real.

    “I
said strip. All the way down. We need to make sure you’re not infected, and
that means a physical.” The soldier spoke with a gruff authority, and the
reasoning made sense, but something about the way he was watching her made
Natalie’s skin crawl. Slowly, she removed her mouth wrap and gloves, feeling an
ever-growing discomfort.

    The
clerk, who had been charged with going through her belongings, had paused with
his job and had joined in watching her now. Natalie’s cheeks flushed red, and
the soldier beside her grew annoyed at her hesitation.

    Without
warning, he stepped forward, moving to forcibly remove her jacket. Out of
reflex, Natalie backhanded him with a growl and took a step back. It might not
have been the wisest thing to do, but she wasn’t about to let this asshole
undress her. The briefly stunned guard started to snarl something when BJ
entered the booth.

    “What’s
going on here?” His voice was calm, but it carried with it a distinct undertone
of displeasure. It was not a note that boded well for the people within the
room. For her part, Natalie shook her head in greater frustration, annoyed at how
quickly a simple procedure had gone south.

    “I
was about to do the physical to prove I’m not infected, and he decided I wasn’t
undressing fast enough.” Natalie’s words came through clenched teeth. It was
bad enough being treated like a bag of meat, but for some reason, the fact that
BJ had so casually barged in while she was undressing bothered her more than
anything. Her fury faded quickly as she noticed the sudden ice-cold demeanor
that BJ had adopted.

    “...physical?”
He cocked his head at the clerk before roughly gesturing for him to leave. The
man paled, abandoning his post without hesitation, and then Natalie saw how
white the guard’s face suddenly looked. Slow and intimidating, BJ took another
stride forward, his gaze burning a hole into the now-quivering soldier beside
her.

    “That’s
funny. Sarah says the new tabs work perfectly fine, and that you just got a
whole new box, to boot.” Natalie started to ask for an explanation when BJ
reached into a bin resting on a nearby table, pulling a small stick from it
that resembled an old disposable thermometer from her school days. He handed it
to her, his eye contact never wavering from the soldier.

    “Rub
this on one of your cuts, and tell me what color it turns on the other side.”
Without hesitation, she did as she was told, tracing one of the wounds on her
arm delicately with the strange item. This was not a side of BJ she was
accustomed to seeing, and it was one she would be perfectly happy to never deal
with again. Glancing at the tab, she noticed it had turned a delicate shade of
pink on the reverse side.

    “It’s,
uh… it’s pink.” Natalie’s eyes darted between the two men, BJ now towering over
the guard who looked as though he were trying to melt down into the floor. With
his signature rumbling drawl, BJ spoke.

    “Pink
means healthy. Take your gear and go, but leave your shotgun. The boys are
outside waiting for you.” His words came polite, and if it weren’t for the
rising air of pressure in the room, she could almost have mistaken them for a suggestion
rather than an order. As it stood, she was not so foolish nor so brave as to
argue. She gathered her pack and holster before stepping outside without
another word.

    Immediately,
the sense of impending violence began to clear, and she glanced uncomfortably
behind her. No noise was coming from the tent, though Natalie wasn’t sure if
that was more or less unsettling than the alternative. Before she had an
opportunity to dwell on it further, a familiar voice called out to her.

     Rico
had appeared at her side with a significantly cheerier Marco behind him, the
two of them clearly oblivious to the events that had just taken place. Rico
briefly gave her a curious half-smile, likely noticing her strange attitude,
before tapping at her wrist and gesturing for her to follow. At that, he
noticed the holstered pistol held loosely in her hand.

    “Keep
that out of sight while you’re in the camp.” Rico whispered the words, but that
didn’t stop Marco from chiming in with an off-hand, “It’s true, cute girl with
a gun might scare off any chances at getting some action.”

    Natalie
felt sick from her encounter with the guard, and Marco’s foolish machismo only
reinforced her anxiety, but the feeling was briefly set aside by apprehension
as she got her first good look at the outpost that would be her home.

     It
was poorly lit, though she quickly realized many lights were simply off, a
suggestion that they were likely conserving their resources. There were a large
number of downtrodden people moving along pathways between buildings, giving
the area a claustrophobic and hopeless feeling that was only exacerbated by the
dim illumination.

    Worse,
walkways crisscrossed overhead, traversed by heavily armed guards that watched
the crowds below with disturbing intensity. The camp felt more like a prison
than anything else, but it was better than the alternative. Taking the role of
her tour guide, Rico echoed her thoughts.

    “The
post is divided into two rings. Right now, we’re in the outer section, reserved
for those people who haven’t been processed yet. It’s not great, but you’re
better off here than outside.” He waved his hand toward a large group of men
and women huddled around some kind of makeshift checkpoint ahead of them.

    “To
get into the inner ring, you’ve got to go through processing, which basically
means they check your body and mind for stability, guess what job you’d be best
at, and then put you to work.” Natalie nodded along with his explanation,
though she did notice that the checkpoint appeared to be overflowing with
refugees. It didn’t seem likely that these people would be allowed inside any
time soon. Abruptly, Marco decided to add his own two cents to the
conversation.

    “See
up there? All the sour lookin’ guys with way too much firepower? Security. If
anybody starts a fight, they start shooting. No checks, no verification, just
immediate action.” Marco blew a low whistle at his own words, adopting a
Southern drawl as he added, “Never take a chance.” As quickly as the accent
came, he discarded it again, smiling at his own cleverness.

     “That’s
martial law at its finest! Brutal, sure, but hey. In this day and age, you
can’t argue the efficiency, and most think it’s necessary. Soldiers never walk
the streets; they all sit tight above us, ready to fuck people up if the need
arises.” He was chuckling as he spoke, his hands miming the act of firing a
rifle repeatedly, and Natalie quickly remembered why she didn’t much care for
him.

    Though,
after noticing his sudden reversion of character, Natalie did feel a small
amount of relief. He’d made it through the checkpoint, which meant he wasn’t
infected, after all. They had survived, all of them. If that meant dealing with
Marco’s annoying behavior, she’d take it. At least for a little while.