“Yeah, I’ve got caboose duty.”
A series of sounds squirm through my headpiece, raising all the hairs on my body. Then something eclipses the sunlight. I turn to glance behind me.
The top of the loading ramp we just came down is jammed with festering people.
“We’ve got company.”
Just like the infected woman who attacked me, this horde is filled with hemorrhaging eyes, some dangling from strings of dripping tissue, some with noses torn, exposing gaping nasal cavities gushing dark ooze. One young man, his clothes a tattered mass of blood-soaked rags, grins through split lips, revealing teeth caked with who knows what.
Then the entire pack is rampaging toward us.
“Open fire!” Dahlia shouts.
The first wave of diseased attackers disappears in a spray of limbs and guts as we hit them hard with volley after volley of blasts from our pulsators.
Rodrigo and Leander make it into a game, deliberately shooting off body parts to cripple first rather than shelve, in a sick attempt at prolonging the fun. Dahlia joins them, choosing
to fry people with her flamethrower instead of firing kill shots.
Aiming for the heads and chest, I do my best to put these poor people out of their misery as quickly as possible, just like Arrah’s doing. No matter how many we shoot or maim, though, they just keep coming, wave after wave.
“Fall back into the loading bay,” Leander commands.
That’s when the infected who’ve been lurking in the darkness begin to drop from the ceiling pipes and lumber out from behind pillars. We’re trapped and outnumbered.
“There’re too many of ’em!” Rodrigo yells.
“Get to the freight elevator!” I cry.
Droves of infected people swarm into the bay, forcing us to scatter. I dive behind an overturned supply crate and something brushes against me, causing my muscles to tense until I realize it’s Arrah, crouched beside me.
Crack!
A man crouches on the crate right above our heads, what’s left of his nasal cartilage sniffing the air. Beads of saliva drip from his open mouth onto my faceplate.
Gripping Arrah’s gloved hand in mine, I tiptoe one hundred and eighty degrees around the crate and spot Rodrigo hugging one side of a downed freight sled to our right. On the opposite side of the sled that Rodrigo’s hidden behind, an obscene mass of groping, sniffing, clawing people is slowly making its way around to him from his blind side.
“Rod-Man! What’re you waiting for?” I hiss into my helmet mic. “Move, damn it.”
But he doesn’t move a muscle. No reaction at all.
The contaminated horde is practically nipping at Rodrigo’s boots. In a few seconds, it won’t make any difference whether we warn him or not.
“His com unit must be damaged,” I say to Arrah. “I’m going after him.”
I lunge forward but snap back as if bound by a giant rubber band. It’s Leander’s steel arm around my waist, pulling me back into the shadows against the brick wall of his chest. “You’ll give away our position, Spark.”
A skull peers at us from our left. No. It’s Dahlia, her eyes deep canyons, her mouth opened in a silent shout. She jabs a finger in the direction of the freight elevator and the expression on her face is clear.
We gotta move. Now.
I thrust my hand into the darkness and pick up the first thing I touch. I wince. It’s a severed foot. At least it’s still encased in a ragged work boot. I hurl it across the gulf. My grisly projectile grazes the side of Rodrigo’s helmet.
A twisting shadow falls over Rodrigo. He whirls, weapon raised. “Die, Mother F—”
BLAM! BLAM! BLAM!
The deadly spray of Rodrigo’s weapon fills the claustrophobic space with a deafening roar. Body parts fly as our attackers scatter in every direction.
“Get your asses to the freight elevator!” Leander shouts as he sprints from our hiding place. I start after him, but turn when I hear a moan behind me.
Arrah’s on her knees, clutching her left thigh. Dark streaks spill from the wound onto her hand.
“Friendly fire,” she groans.
Right behind her, the twisting bodies of more infected
people approach, making those sickening sloshing, slurping, and crunching sounds that drown out everything—the weapons blasts, the pounding of the blood through my veins…
Aiming my own pulsator, my finger tightens on the trigger repeatedly. Energy bursts find their targets and the survivors scramble.
Arrah and I collapse into each other’s arms.
Through the swirl of emergency beacons, I see the contaminated horde all around us in a nightmarish strobe, wriggling out of the walls and ceiling, more and more, too many to stop before we run out of ammo.
I can’t get my brain around it. It’s all wrong. Slade said the rebels had taken over the facility, but these are obviously victims. And I’ll bet my life that this outbreak is the Establishment’s doing.
“Rip out their livers and make them eat!” a voice bellows, prickling every hair on my body.
I’m not sure who shouted that, but we’re not sticking around long enough to find out. I pry myself from Arrah’s grip and drag her to her feet. “We’re outta here!”
“Spark! Arrah!” Dahlia cries from up ahead. “We haven’t got all day!”
Slinging Arrah’s arm over my shoulder, I start running toward the freight elevator. I can hear the awful sounds of our pursuers not too far behind us, grinding through my brain, getting louder and louder.
“What have they done to these people?” Arrah’s voice flares in my helmet speakers. I’m too breathless to respond, and just as concerned with the why.
Up ahead, Leander, Rodrigo, and Dahlia are waiting for us by the elevator bank. Rodrigo’s got the access panel open and is busy rewiring it, trying to bypass security, while Dahlia and Leander flank him, firing at any contaminated that venture too close.
Leander barely stops firing when he recognizes Arrah and me. His eyes bulge. “Don’t look back! Keep running!”
A pang of guilt hits me. Leander and the others are Establishment, and they’re waiting for me. Would I hesitate to leave any of them behind?
As Arrah and I reach them, Rodrigo connects two sparking wires together. “That’s it, baby.” The elevator doors grind open and we spill inside, just before dark shadows smother us.
Rodrigo jams his gloved palm against the elevator’s key pad and the doors clang shut, sealing the horde out.
Leander grins through a blood-speckled face and elbows me in the ribs. “Everyone having fun yet?”
FOUR
With a stomach-curdling lurch, the elevator begins its descent into the bowels of the research center. The lights flash on the floor indicator at dizzying speed, creating a strobe effect. I shut my eyes. A brief flash of memory assaults my senses. I’m on a different elevator, descending into the depths of the Skein on my way to begin the Trials. Instead of my fellow trainees, I’m surrounded by the four other Recruits, all with bowed heads. Cypress, Gideon, Ophelia, and…
Digory.
This time my chest lurches. My blood’s like a mallet pummeling the inside of my temples. Dead. They’re all dead. And there’s nothing I can do for them now but exact justice on their murderers.
My eyes spring open.
An alarm blares.
I brace against the side of the car. “What’s that all about?”
“Everyone remain at attention!” Leander barks.