The Red Phoenix 12: Strength Comes in Numbers (36 page)

“It’s some type of bizarre ecosystem,” he muttered, crouching next to a plant that looked like dark flowers with several eyes on top of their buds.

He put his hand over the tips but they retracted back into their pods like they were afraid of him.

“Astonishing,” he whispered, standing.

He climbed up on a boulder, noticing a log that seemed endless in length as it ran deep into the trees with a hollow center. The diameter of the opening was larger than a monster truck tire, allowing an adult to pass through it with ease.

“It’s got to be a hundred yards to the bend up there,” he said, staring down the dark passage.

He climbed up the sides of the boulders then on top of the log, noticing the log ran on through the trees for quite a distance.

“I bet it goes on for a few miles,” he said, staring through the crisscrossing thick vines that hung from the treetops, trying to see as far as he could.

He watched the ends of some of the vines move and snap their Venus flytrap like-mouths at insects that flew through the air. He explored further into the trees, walking on top of the log, moving hanging vines out of his way. He stepped over a hole on top of the log the size of a manhole as a few sparrows flew over him and landed on a branch twenty-feet above him. The log curved on a bend then continued through the trees and hanging vines.

“At least you guys are okay,” he mumbled, noticing the birds were unaffected.

He walked on, glancing up at the trees, seeing something dark with multiple legs, the size of a raccoon, crawling around a branch of the tree with tiny, beady eyes that stared at him through some vines above. The creature made a strange rattling sound as it breathed but seemed harmless.

“I don’t even want to know what you are,” he said in a quiet voice, staring back at it, moving another vine out of his way.

Another insect with wings and ten legs flew overhead then landed in a tree like it was resting on a branch.

“My God, the whole place is mutated,” he mumbled.

He looked down and watched a dark bug that had an oversized shell, with thorns on its back the size of a shoebox, crawl over the log in front of him. He crouched down, watching the insect-creature make its way down the side of the log, over a boulder, then into the trees.

“A beetle perhaps?” he said.

Suddenly, there was a faint thud in the distance, causing a soft vibration on the log. Siddoway stood, worried, staring into the trees for the source of the rumbling. There was another thud that sounded like something large was moving around.

“What the hell is out there?” he mumbled.

The thudding became louder, changing into what sounded like large feet running, heading in his direction. The sounds of bushes and branches crushing under heavy feet became louder as he watched vines, tree branches, and bushes move around in the short distance like something was getting closer.

“That’s never a good sign,” said Siddoway, sounding scared as he began to run down the top of the log towards the entrance, hitting the vines out of his way.

In the background, a red and black lizard-like creature on four legs with a long tail leaped out of the trees onto the log. It roared at him with huge jaws and sharp teeth.

“Holy shit!” said Siddoway, glancing over his shoulder as the lizard-like beast began to run after him.

Siddoway ran around the bend, losing the lizard beast for a short time as he came to a hole on top of the log. He stopped, panting, looking behind him, and heard the creature about to come around the bend. He climbed down into the hole, catching his breath as the sounds of the creature’s footsteps made heavy thuds on top of the log as it approached, scanning the area for him.

He moved away from the hole, watching the mutated lizard creature’s belly pass by then its tail.

“The thing has got to be thirty-five feet long with tail,” he whispered.

The end of the tail passed over the hole.

“I’m definitely going to need more help getting out of here,” he said, crawling back whence he came, leaving the trees. “Time to get Greenfield.”

***

Braddock and his men reached the transit depot on level minus seven. It was a long, tunnel-like station that curved seventy-yards ahead of them. A strip of strobe lighting ran along the ceiling all the way around the curve. The Red Phoenix Express was stopped at the platform with its headlights on and doors open all along the cabins. The tracks were narrow as one side of the subway ran along a concrete wall.

Employees that were hiding on the train began to stand from the floor, noticing the soldiers out the windows, wearing gas masks, carrying weapons as they walked by, looking in the cabin at the passengers. The entire train from front to rear was full of employees who had fled from the upper levels.

“What’s the plan, Commander?” asked Osborne. “Looks like there are a lot of passengers on the subway.”

“Have a couple of soldiers post up next to each car, Lieutenant, and wait for my command,” Braddock replied.

“Copy,” Osborne answered.

“Look! There are soldiers out there! Help has arrived!” one woman said, sounding relieved.

“Oh, thank God,” said a male passenger. “I didn’t think we were ever going to get out of here.”

“There have to be fifty soldiers out there,” said another male passenger, watching them pass by. “Hi guys!” he said out the window.

“Just wait in the train, sir,” said Osborne. “We’ll get you people out of here soon.”

“You bet, thanks buddy,” the male answered, giving him a thumbs up.

“They’re all wearing gas masks,” said a female.

“Ah, it’s routine. They probably don’t want to breathe in any fumes lingering around the transit depot,” another male replied.

“Seems strange if you ask me,” said an older male, grasping a metal pole, watching Braddock’s men post up next to each car.

“On my command, men,” said Braddock, walking behind his line of soldiers who were posted up.

“Excuse me, sir?” asked a female passenger through the window.

Braddock turned to her, his head hidden behind a gas mask and helmet.

“We’ve been down here for so long on this subway train,” said the female. “Some of us are getting hungry and there are elderly people aboard. Could you possibly tell us how long it will be until we get out of here?”

“Citizens. The good news is your troubles are over,” Braddock answered, taking out his ammo magazine.

“Does that mean you’ll lead us to the surface?” asked the female.

“We heard the lobby was destroyed, the phones are down, the elevators weren’t working and there were
zombies
or something running loose upstairs,” another female said out the window.

“We’ll do better than that, ma’am,” Braddock replied. “You and your fellow passengers will be participating in something exceptional for the sake of national security.”

“National security? Excuse me, sir, I don’t understand,” said a male passenger through another window. “What are you talking about?”

“It was a program designed to prevent a worldwide epidemic and, ultimately, the preservation of the human race,” Braddock responded, loading a full magazine into his machine gun.

“How are we passengers going to do that?” another female passenger asked.

“By us continuing our quarantine,” Braddock responded as he and his soldiers aimed their weapons at the cars.

The faces of the passengers on the train turned white like death had gripped them by their throats.

“Fire!” Braddock stated.

The soldiers’ guns lit up the train station with the echoing sounds of machine gun fire as the subway windows shattered, and the sides of the metal exterior riddled with holes. The defenseless passengers dropped to the floor one after another as the bullets came through the windows, ripping through the seats, ricocheting off the metal poles.

“Cease fire!” Braddock order, putting up his fist, causing his men to lower their weapons.

The train depot was quiet.

Braddock stepped on board, glancing at the dead passengers who lay across the seats, on the floor and leaning against the metal poles with their heads hanging down. Some blood pooled across the floor beneath them. He took out his digital scanner device, walking over the dead passengers, aiming its laser camera at their faces, passing them. His device examined each of their faces, scanning their hair, eyes, noses, and mouths with sophisticated graphics, stating
ALEX FREDERICK SIDDOWAY, CHRISTOPHER JAMES MICHAELS NOT IDENTIFIED.

“Is everyone down, sir?” asked Osborne from the platform.

“The infected have been successfully neutralized, Lieutenant,” Braddock replied, scanning over the rest of the deceased passengers.

“Any sign of the targets?” asked Osborne.

“Unfortunately not,” Braddock answered, arriving at the last car, avoiding their blood on the floor.

“Lieutenant?” said Braddock.

“Yes, Commander,” Osborne answered.

“I feel confident that the virus died with their hosts on this train,” said Braddock.

“That’s good news, sir,” Osborne replied.

“Check the controls at the front car, please,” said Braddock. “I’d like to get moving.”

“Yes sir,” Osborne replied.

“A best case scenario would be us arriving at level minus seventy-nine to deactivate a nuclear arsenal,” Braddock added.

“Right away, sir,” Osborne replied.

“Make sure the men keep their distance from the dead,” said Braddock. “I don’t want them stepping in the blood.”

“Everybody on aboard!” hollered Osborne, pacing around the soldiers. “To avoid bio-hazards, don’t touch any of the downed victims or come in contact with their blood!”

***

After a couple hours passed, Siddoway crept out of the end of the log, looking for the giant lizard creature. The coast was clear. He hurried to the thirty-five foot wall of trees where he entered then crawled as fast as he could under the razor-laden branches as he made his way to the edge of the piles of wreckage of the destroyed Red Phoenix facility.

He scanned the area for soldiers, trotting over the piles of wood chips, sheetrock, rebar, broken piping and glass as a military helicopter with a gunman flew over the mountains of rubble like it was patrolling the area.

“Oh damn!” said Siddoway, scared, hurrying under a broken piece of wall from the former lobby that leaned against a demolished cement structure for cover.

He sat against the structure, breathing hard, minding the jagged edges of two by four beams, nails and sheetrock that stuck out of the wall. The helicopter hovered above, circling the area, then drifted back, hovering over a large hill of rubble that mounded forty-feet above the surface. The gunman stared down towards Siddoway’s covered location, waiting for something to move, holding up his large caliber machine gun. Siddoway crawled along the reverse side of the wall, struggling to get to the corner of the partial cement wall that was severed from the explosion. He peeked at the menacing helicopter from the corner of his concrete hiding spot.