Miasma (The Redivivus Trilogy Book 3) Read online

  “Since all the civilians are covered, I’ll assist Stack. He’s heading our way from the armory. He reported Rooster KIA, and Judge still hasn’t checked in,” Mother said. Despite his steadfast tone, his worried expression belied his true concerns.

  L.T. nodded before turning to Lydia and Dr. San. He handed each of the women a handgun. Dr. Sodecci looked relieved that the lieutenant hadn’t offered him a weapon.

  “Okay. We won’t detonate the walkway to the keep unless we’re forced to do so,” L.T. said.

  Mother advanced down the cramped hallway with his rifle at the low ready position. His heart thumped loudly, making it sound as though someone was playing a bass drum inside his head. His vision narrowed despite the darkness within the corridor, and he wondered if he was on the verge of passing out. He continually swept his barrel from side to side, as though expecting the bogeyman to leap out at any moment.

  As he neared the common area at the building’s center, Mother caught sight of movement in the hallway across the room. The figures silhouetted ahead of him moved with the uncoordinated cadence of the infected. The horde had reached the compound and somehow breached the wall. He centered his holographic sight’s reticle over one of the thing’s bobbing heads and prepared to take the shot. Before he could fire, however, three figures spilled out of the hallway moving low and fast. Their appearance startled Mother, and he paused momentarily. The men fanned out, moving with military precision as they did. Their coordinated movements were the polar opposite of the rev he’d been about to take down. Mother shifted his aim to the center man who noticed the rifle’s movement. Taking advantage of Mother’s hesitation, the soldier dove for cover before Mother had a chance to get a shot off.

  The soldier immediately called to his companions, simultaneously giving away Mother’s position and confirming that they weren’t infected. Three barrels turned in his direction, but Mother was faster. He opened fire, forcing the three men to take cover. He cycled through the targets, pinning them down with slow and steady suppressing fire. If the men had any experience at all, then they already realized Mother’s predicament. With a 30-round magazine in his rifle, he could direct ten shots toward each of the three men before he would be forced to reload or transition to his sidearm. Either one took time during which the tactical advantage he enjoyed as a result of being the first to fire would disappear completely.

  Mother needed to fall back or find cover if he didn’t want to die in that hallway. Just before his magazine ran dry, he saw the outline of several revs still shambling down the hall behind the soldiers. His mind was made up. He took several steps back before diving headlong into an open room to the side of the hall as his rifle’s bolt locked back. As expected, several bullets converged on the spot where he’d been standing moments ago. They knew enough to count my shots, so they must have some training.

  Matter-of-factly, the man on the left side of the room said, “The rotbags are getting pretty close. What do you wanna do, Hawk?”

  Mother heard three shorts bursts from an assault rifle. The shots seemed to be directed foward into the mass of infected. The man named Hawk replied, “Push up. We’ve got him pinned down.”

  Shit! That wasn’t what Mother had been hoping to hear. He would’ve far preferred to hear the three men’s guttural cries as the revs closing in on their position devoured them alive, but it didn’t seem like he was going to be that lucky. The fresh magazine clicked into place, and he released his rifle’s bolt. He considered poking his head out to assess the situation, but the sound of at least two pairs of boots caused him to second-guess that plan. Unless he wanted to die in the small utility room, he had to do something. The room consisted of a row of shelves on each side but nothing that provided any meaningful cover. He was a sitting duck. If he wanted to live, he needed to move.

  Crouched just inside the doorway, Mother dropped to his elbow as he fell out of the doorway. Owing to the fast target acquisition afforded him by his holographic sight, his reticle was lined up with the face of one of the attackers before his elbow touched the ground.

  Pop. Pop.

  The sun’s rays filtered through the fine red mist that exploded from the soldier’s head, making it appear as though it were raining blood. Both beautiful and horrible, the sight momentarily transfixed Mother. The spell was broken by the sound of the other soldiers’ boots growing louder as they approached. He drew back inside the utility room just before a burst of gunfire stitched a line through the ground he’d just occupied. The soldiers concentrated their fire on the doorway, and Mother accepted that his chances of making it out of the room were slim to none. He pressed his back against the wall and prepared to fight to the death.

  Gunfire erupted from the direction of the horde moving down the hall, and one of the soldiers let out a pained cry. Confused, Mother wondered if the infected had learned to use firearms. The thought of a thousand revs armed with firearms was more terrifying than nearly anything else he could imagine. God help us all if that’s the case.

  The soldier who’d been shot barreled past the doorway to the room Mother was holed up in. He held his rifle in one hand and fired wildly from the hip as he passed. His shots went wide, but Mother pressed closer to the wall all the same. The second soldier was right on the heels of the first as they slipped past Mother’s location, heading deeper into Building 18. When the ringing in his ears began to fade and he heard the horrible sound of one hundred hungry moans, Mother understood why the soldiers hadn’t bothered to finish him off. He was a dead man: he knew it and they knew it.

  Once again, the sound of gunfire filled the hallway. Still having no idea who was attacking them or how many there were, Mother readied his weapons in preparation to make a final stand against the intruders. The crackle of his radio made him jump.

  “Mother, do you copy? There are revs pouring into the commons. I’m clearing a path to the keep. What’s your twenty?” Stack said.

  An enormous smile spread over Mother’s face when he heard Stack’s voice. “I’m in the utility room in the north hallway. There are at least two active shooters in the building.”

  Stack had heard the gunfire and knew that some of the shots had come from weapons that weren’t theirs. When he reached the commons, he thought he saw a person moving ahead of the infected spilling into the room. He wasn’t sure how Mother had come to be in the utility room, but he was heading in that the direction. Stack dropped several revs with headshots before winging the uninfected man with a shot to the arm. A female rev wearing yoga attire moved in and blocked Stack’s follow-up shot. The thing paid the price by taking a round to the brainpan.

  “I’m moving to your position. Are the civilians secure?”

  “Roger. They’re with L.T.” Mother replied.

  * * *

  Hawk and the soldier Stack shot, a stocky man nicknamed Bull, moved past the room where Mother had sought refuge. Hawk would’ve liked to stop and take care of the man who’d killed one of his men, but with the infected hot on their trail and someone shooting at them from behind, he didn’t have time. Besides, he knew the infected would take care of his adversary.

  The two men moved deeper into the building, listening for any sound that might give them an idea of where the survivors were hiding. The hallway split, with the path to the right continuing straight ahead, and another to the left heading up a wide set of stairs to a second floor walkway. They took the stairs, hoping that the increased elevation might give them the drop on anyone who might be on the floor below.

  Hawk wasn’t entirely sure who or what they were expecting to find, but Connor had indicated that it was something of vital importance. The Asian guy, Bayani, had reported that a group of people had raided one of their supply caches before heading to the CDC. Connor, in turn, had rallied his men by telling them that scientists at the CDC had, or were at least working on, a cure for the plague.

  Hawk readily admitted that his boss had been acting a little more rashly than usual, but when Connor aske
d to be referred to as the Puppet Master, Hawk couldn’t bring himself to comply. He trusted that Connor knew what he was talking about despite realizing that he had offered no evidence to support his claim. That, he reasoned, was Bayani’s fault. Hawk didn’t like Bayani, primarily because the Filipino had knocked him down a rung in Connor’s army hierarchy. He saw this as an opportunity to prevail where Bayani had failed. He would find the cure, take care of the thieves, and emerge from the compound triumphantly. Then maybe I’ll take care of that Filipino once and for all…

  Between the sound of their boots clanging against the floor, the rasping moans of the infected echoing down the hall, and Bull’s grunts of pain, Hawk couldn’t hear any sign of the other inhabitants in the building. Perhaps Connor had been wrong? He dismissed the idea, acknowledging that he’d never steered him wrong before. Just as his confidence in Connor’s words was starting to falter, Hawk heard a scream in the distance.

  The two men moved swiftly toward the sound, confident that the infected were effectively covering them from the rear. Light filtered in through windows as the hallway led them to the building’s north side. It sounded as though the scream had belonged to a woman or possibly a child, and had come from somewhere to their right. As they moved in the direction from which it came, Hawk couldn’t help but stare through the dirty windows and wonder what the view would’ve been like before the apocalypse. He imagined it would’ve been nice.

  The two men came to an intersection, and Hawk said, “Bull, clear left. I’ve got right.”

  Despite Bull’s injury, Hawk didn’t worry about his comrade’s ability to complete the task. Bull was as tough as nails, and Hawk didn’t think they would encounter any further resistance if they hadn’t already. Needless to say, he was startled by the deafening blast that erupted behind him, forcing him to dive for cover. He looked up just in time to see a crimson halo form around Bull’s head as a bullet tore through his right cheek. The big man collapsed to the ground but immediately scurried behind some furniture in the hall.

  Hawk watched Bull roll over and press his back against a long couch. To his amazement, Bull checked his rifle to ensure he had a round in the chamber before swapping his magazine out for a full one. Holy hell! He just took a slug to the face, and he’s fighting like it was nothing more than a bitch-slap! Dude’s got to be on PCP or something… Bull’s face was a blood-soaked mask when he poked his rifle over the couch’s armrest and fired blindly over his shoulder. If he felt the pain of either of his gunshot wounds, Hawk couldn’t tell. The wild look in his comrade’s eyes made him look crazier than a pit bull on meth.

  The moment Bull’s rifle ran dry, he transitioned to his sidearm and popped up out of cover. He moved fast for a guy his size and in an instant was advancing on the person who’d shot him in the face. Hawk’s rifle was up, but Bull was directly in his line of fire. What the hell is that dumbass doing? At that moment, several things happened simultaneously. First, Bull’s body began to shimmy and shake like a pothead at a Phish concert as multiple hollow-point slugs pierced his body. Each bullet that struck his body caused him to twitch in a different direction. There was a cinematic quality to the scene that made Hawk question whether it was truly happening. As it was, the deafening reports of the gunshots, and the sickening smell of copper and cordite filling the air, were all too real.

  Through the haze of smoke, Hawk saw a great deal of movement coming from the direction of the shots. At least one person appeared to be reloading a weapon, while others disappeared into the smoke as though they were running away from the grisly scene. A panic-stricken man let out a high-pitched scream as he tore off down the hall in the opposite direction. Hawk was surprised to see two children take off after the hysterical man. Kids? What the hell? He didn’t have much time to think about his next move, as someone started down the hall from the direction of the common area. He couldn’t be sure, but he didn’t think the person was one of the infected.

  “Well, I’ll be damned,” Hawk muttered before slinking off into the shadows in pursuit of the overwrought man and the two kids. With Bull down and armed men on at least two sides, it seemed like his safest course of action…for now.

  14

  In less than ten minutes, the entire CDC compound descended into chaos. Revs roamed the halls, gunshots filled the air, and people on both sides of the fight were dead. The Puppet Master monitored the unfolding scene from a safe vantage point outside the walls. It wasn’t that he was a coward; he just knew when it was his time to make a move. In the interim, he was content to lord over the hell he’d created.

  Meanwhile, hidden from his watchful eye, Stack had managed to punch a hole through the wall of revs filling the common room in Building 18’s center. He moved into the hall leading to the north side, where a grateful Mother joined him. Dropping body after infected body with well-placed headshots, the two men moved down the corridor in the direction of the keep. If ever there was a good time to utilize such a last resort, it was then.

  As Stack and Mother approached the intersection of the hall leading to the keep, they came upon the remnants of a fierce gun battle. The smoke filling the dimly lit space made it difficult to ascertain the details of the situation. An effeminate scream pierced the air from somewhere, and a man who’d been taking cover ahead of them scurried off in the opposite direction. All of this made Mother and Stack move more cautiously. When the two men finally pied the corner, they saw Bull’s dead body filling most of the hallway’s floor.

  Not wanting to be shot by friendly fire, Mother yelled, “L.T.—it’s Mother. Hold your fire.”

  Moments later, he and Stack emerged from the haze to find L.T. covering the entrance to the keep. The others were nowhere to be seen, and Mother feared the worst.

  “Is Dr. San okay? Is she already inside the keep?” Mother asked breathlessly.

  L.T. gave a terse nod, as his eyes continued surveying the area. “She’s fine. Everyone except for Sodecci has already crossed over into the keep. That chicken shit took off as soon as the lead started flying,” L.T. said with disgust. With all of his focus directed toward the men shooting at him, he hadn’t noticed the girls take off after Dr. Sodecci.

  The tension on Mother’s face visibly diminished at hearing confirmation that Dr. San was safe. Stack filled them in on the breach in the wall as well as what had happened to Rooster, and Mother informed them that he still hadn’t heard from Judge. The mood noticeably darkened as the reality of their situation hit them.

  “This place is crawling with revs, and there’s at least one more gunman in the building. I still don’t have a clue who these guys are or what they want,” Mother added. The haggard look on L.T.’s face told Mother the recent combat had taken a lot out of him. “L.T., you should fall back to the keep. Stack can cover this position, and I’ll go after Sodecci. Any idea where he was going?”

  Reeling from the adrenaline dump that follows a gun battle, L.T. was happy to relinquish his post to Stack. In regard to Dr. Sodecci, he was at a complete loss.

  “There’s no telling. He probably doesn’t even know,” L.T. replied.

  * * *

  When the shooting started, two things flashed through Dr. Sodecci’s mind: “Run like hell” and “I think I’ve been shot.” He suspected the latter when he felt warm liquid running down his leg. He realized that wasn’t the case when the pungent aroma of concentrated urine rather than the metallic tang of blood reached his nose.

  Sodecci hadn’t had a destination in mind aside from far away from the bullets carving deadly paths through the air. Someone had chased after him, although he had no idea who it was. He hadn’t dared look over his shoulder to find out. Instead, he’d run as hard as he could. Fortunately, he’d managed to lose whoever had been after him when he ducked into the women’s restroom. Few people knew that he’d always felt more comfortable there compared to the men’s restroom. Now, however, he felt anything but comfortable. He was smelly, wet, and alone in the dark bathroom. To top it off, he was
terrified of the dark, as he had been ever since his older brother convinced him to watch A Nightmare on Elm Street at the age of seven. The nocturnal hours hadn’t been the same since. Feeling very much like that same seven-year old boy, he held his breath as he listened to his pursuers’ footfalls grow fainter.

  Dropping to his hands and knees, he crawled into one of the stalls where he climbed onto the toilet and curled into a little ball. It was so dark in the bathroom that he wasn’t sure whether his eyes were opened or closed. Devoid of all sensory input, he sat atop the toilet, paralyzed by fear as he waited for something to happen. As it turned out, he didn’t have to wait long.

  * * *

  Slipping into the darkness, Hawk moved stealthily toward the footsteps racing away from him. It sounded like at least three people, all running, and all very scared. Amateurs. He took his time and moved silently in their wake. The heaviest of the footsteps disappeared, while the others grew steadily softer. Hearing no one in his immediate vicinity, Hawk took a chance and switched his flashlight on. The beam was blindingly bright as he panned it around the hall. He caught a brief glint of light reflecting off something on the floor ahead of him. Drawing nearer, he saw a dime-sized drop of liquid on the tile. Several other sprinkles of varying sizes were laid out like a trail of breadcrumbs leading around the corner. His eye lit up when he read the sign on the door: Women’s Restroom.