Death Squad (Book 3): Zombie Nation Read online

  Her pace slowed. She edged forward, wishing she didn’t have to press on. Julius kept pace behind her, forcing her to keep moving.

  I thought we were friends?

  She’d been happy with her little existence in this place. She wanted nothing more than to return to her prior routine. Go to the research room, continue with the work, have a shower, go to sleep. She wished she could go back and change things. But she couldn’t. She’d made her mistake. Now she would have to live with it.

  “Left.”

  Sam turned the corner. Another anonymous corridor. Where was everyone? A place like this should house hundreds, not a mere handful.

  “Stop.”

  Sam did. Her head bowed. She didn’t want to get hurt, not in this place. She swallowed what little saliva she possessed and turned to face the door.

  “Enter.”

  He swung his card over the terminal. The light blinked green. It might have been the eye of a giant monster.

  The door hissed open.

  Sam’s breath lodged in her throat. She never expected this.

  * * *

  “Welcome!”

  Half a dozen beaming faces stared at her. Yellowed and crooked teeth perched above expensive designer frames. It was a shock to see so many people in a single place.

  Sam’s eyes brightened at seeing a face she recognized. Dr. Gregory Mills. Sam handpicked Greg to aid in researching the virus. She didn’t know much about him beyond what she’d learned from his resume, but he was still a familiar face in an otherwise unfamiliar place, and that counted for something.

  A grin curled Sam’s lips as she took a step toward him.

  His expression morphed, a shadow darkening his features. A gentle turn of his head and shake of his hands told her to stay back.

  Confused by his reaction, Sam kept her distance. There would be a reason for it she supposed, but for the life of her, she couldn’t figure out what.

  A tall man she’d never laid eyes upon before stepped forward. He had a sprig of hair on the top of his head like a desert cactus. She doubted he’d designed it that way. Who would? He extended a hand with swollen knuckles.

  “Welcome to research team seven. My name is Lester. We’ve been watching your progress with great interest.”

  My research? She scanned the terminals. The research room was huge, at least five times larger than the previous one she’d inhabited. Machines whirred and lights blinked. At the room’s heart, several matching terminals she recognized from her previous research room.

  Were these the guys who’d issued her tasks? If so, she wasn’t sure she was pleased to be there after all.

  But she was good at pretending.

  She wore a broad grin and shook the offered hand. “I’m pleased to be here too. It’s a real honor to have this opportunity.”

  It was the script she’d used when hired on any research project.

  The man called Lester smiled. “I’ll be in charge of the research we conduct here. Only the very best researchers join our team. We’re very pleased to have you.”

  As if I had a choice. Had she entered the Twilight Zone? She shouldn’t be there at all.

  “Thank you,” Sam said.

  The fountain of burgeoning questions sprouted in her mind once again. So many questions, and yet she wasn’t sure she should ask any of them. Their response to her questions before hadn’t exactly been welcoming.

  The researchers broke up and moved to their individual sections.

  “Please follow me.” Lester led her to an empty workstation. “This is your research terminal. I’m sure you’re well aware of how to use the equipment. If you need any help, just ask. Each day, you’ll come in, we’ll discuss our objectives, and you’ll get to work. As you can see, the room is much like the other room you were using. But with one noticeable difference. . .”

  The arm snapped out so fast Sam barely had time to react. She lost her footing and hit the floor.

  Lester helped her back up. “Sorry about that. Don’t worry, they’re not as fearsome as they appear.”

  “Not fearsome?” Sam screeched, keeping her distance. “How can they not be fearsome? They’re zombies!”

  She was referring to the three creatures reaching through the bars of their cages at her.

  “They’re only excited when we’re excited,” Lester said. “Stay calm and they’ll follow suit.”

  Sam’s heart had near leaped out of her chest. How was she meant to stay calm with those things within easy reach of her? As her heart rate eased, so too did the zombies.

  They seemed very morose. Their teeth worried at something in their putrid mouths, striking a strong similarity with a cow chewing cud. They wore matching ragged uniforms, smeared with stains of Christ knew what. They stared blankly from behind their cage bars. Bereft of Sam’s excited response, they paid no attention to the researchers. They started when a researcher moved a little too close, but did not groan, nor scream or screech like their wild brothers outside.

  “As you can see,” Lester said, “we had their teeth removed and force them to wear gloves at all times. We also had their jaws wired shut.”

  “Why keep them here?”

  “It helps to have subjects on hand for when we conduct our tests.”

  Sam didn’t understand. “What are you researching here?”

  “We’re continuing the research you began. We’re attempting to find a cure for these poor creatures.”

  * * *

  The news was a blow to the gut. They were working on a cure? The Architect was the one responsible for spreading the virus in the first place. Now he was trying to reverse what he’d done? Had he suffered a change of heart?

  It didn’t make sense. A man who’d unleashed a deadly virus on an innocent city wasn’t the type to flippantly switch sides.

  Something else was going on here. Something she couldn’t yet make out.

  Lester led her to her terminal and tasked her with continuing her prior research. Sam carried out her tasks without much thought. Her mind shifted to the equipment dotted about the room. She needed to source the materials she required if she hoped to escape this place. She focused her attention on a thin pack of circular films of plastic.

  She glanced at the others hard at work at their workstations. The cameras stood prone in the ceiling, staring and unflinching. The room was much larger than the previous one. With more terminals, it would be more difficult for them to pick up each of their movements. A cursory glance revealed multiple blind spots. If she dropped something in front of the door, they likely wouldn’t pick up on it.

  But there was another issue. How would Julius conduct his search once their work for the day was at an end? Were there other soldiers? Would they search the scientists in turn or all at once? She’d have to play it by ear.

  She finished the second stage of her test and took the samples out of the incubator. She approached the next machine, put on a fresh pair of gloves, and slipped a plastic sleeve from the container. She “accidentally” dropped a second skin and let it flap, unnoticed, to the floor. It didn’t land in her ideal location. She’d have to be careful on her way out.

  She slid her samples into the machine and shut the door. She referenced her notes and turned the dials. The light blinked as the machine whirred into being.

  Out the corner of her eye, she spied movement.

  Lester. He bent down and picked up the thin film of plastic. He looked from one researcher to another. Sam focused her concentration on the task in hand. Lester dropped the plastic film in a bin and dusted off his hands.

  Damn.

  Dare she make a second attempt? If Lester discovered that second skin of discarded plastic, he’d grow suspicious.

  The light above the door flashed green and the door hissed open. The researchers stopped what they were doing. They turned to look at the figure standing in the doorway.

  A man.

  No armed escort. Only him.

  It was then Sam saw his face.
His full grey beard scuffed with white, his hair cropped close to his head. Small but sharp eyes that took everything in.

  Sam’s breath caught in her throat. All thought of escape evacuated her mind.

  Now she could think of only one thing.

  Part this man from his soul.

  It was the Architect, and Sam was pissed.

  13.

  HAWK

  Hawk touched his thumb and forefinger together. Then he touched his middle finger, his forefinger, and pinkie. He was getting pretty good at it. He moved fast, performing a miniature Mexican wave. Then he did it on both hands at the same time.

  The operation had been a total success. Dr. Archer installed hydraulics in his right forearm and replaced the snapped tendons of his left arm with carbon fiber.

  The doctor administered his latest blood injection before leaving to carry out other tests.

  That’d been over three and a half hours ago.

  Of all the things she could have inserted in his body, why hadn’t she installed the automatic feeder? It should have been the first thing she put under his skin. Instead, he was left standing there once again, on the fringes of Hunger.

  He shook his head. It did nothing to displace the black mass gathering inside his skull. It formed a dark altar upon which his mind would be sacrificed.

  He edged the very fringes of his stamina. He couldn’t take much more.

  The final few minutes ticked down. He kept a close eye on the door. The red light blazed red in fiery denial.

  Finally, he broke.

  “Doc! I need my shot!”

  Joe balled up his fists and banged on the bars of his cage. He possessed the strength and ability to do what Hawk could not. He gnawed at the bars. A couple of teeth fractured and tumbled from his mouth. The poor guy barely had half a dozen left. He screamed and shouted and bellowed.

  Hawk forced his eyes open, face strained with the effort of locking out the pain.

  It was no good. She’s not coming.

  Hawk locked onto the keypad. It was on the right-hand side of the door. A yard—if that—from Joe’s cage.

  Perhaps he could reach it.

  Joe was hesitant. He reached through the cage’s bars and stretched his arm as far as it would go.

  Seeing him do that ought to have shaken Hawk to the core. But he was in no fit state to feel shaken. The red mist quickly descended over his eyes. He could hardly make out what was happening. He was too far gone to care.

  He didn’t need his eyes to see what Joe was up to. He felt what he was doing.

  Joe strained every sinew, his clothing unable to take it. Almost within reach. Hawk could almost feel it with his own fingertips.

  Suddenly, he wasn’t lashed to the metal bed. He was inside the cage. His eyesight was misty and unclear. A square of light blinked before him. And it was imperative he reach it.

  His only operating tool was a ragged arm, the fingers torn to shreds. Only two digits worked with any degree of accuracy.

  I don’t need accuracy. I need a hammer.

  The fingers stretched as far as they could. Within millimeters of the keypad now.

  Hawk forced the figure forward. He blocked out the instinctive warning signal. Something ripped as the arm extended an extra inch and struck the keypad.

  The panel lit up, flashing red. An error.

  Good. Do that several times and a message would be sent to command. Someone would be dispatched to investigate.

  If they hurried, they wouldn’t be too late to issue him his shot. He raised the arm and brought it back down, dousing the keypad with infected blood.

  It didn’t matter. Nothing mattered.

  The only thing of importance was getting that shot. He raised the arm again, aware not of his own pain, but the borrowed limb’s lack of response. It dropped and struck the keypad. The lights flashed twice and fell silent.

  Hawk fell back on his restraints. Joe crumpled to the floor of his cage.

  He’d done it.

  The alarm wouldn’t be heard here but in the command center. Someone would be on their way.

  Would they arrive in time? He didn’t know. He could only hope.

  Hawk used every ounce of his remaining strength to protect himself from the encroaching poison mist. The fog of Hunger. It was getting too close. It was going to get him.

  And there was sod all he could do about it.

  He shielded himself as best he could, holding up imaginary arms to block the gas already entering his mind and lungs.

  He floated on the very edge of consciousness.

  The light above the door flickered from red to green. Someone came running into the room. Vague voices distorted by trumpets.

  Familiar slippered feet rushed into his vision, now pointed at the floor. He sailed over the edge and into an endless dark abyss.

  * * *

  Hawk awoke. He felt groggier this time. It was hard work to peel his eyes open. Hydraulics hissed and whirred as his legs took his body’s weight and righted himself.

  “Wake up, Hawk. Wake up. It’s all right. You’re safe. You’re in the lab.”

  The lights were too bright. He could barely see.

  “The lights. . . Turn off. . . the lights.”

  Footsteps hurried away. The lights flicked off.

  “Is that better?”

  “And. . . a foot. . . foot rub. . .”

  “A what?”

  “A foot rub.”

  “A foot rub?” Dr. Archer laughed. “You must be feeling better. Your sense of humor—such that it is—is working.”

  Dr. Archer swam from the darkness. Hawk’s blurry vision drifted into focus inch by inch. She wore a mask of concern and had dark bags under her eyes. She looked more tired than he’d ever seen her.

  “How are you feeling?” she said.

  “Not great. How long was I out?”

  “A few hours.”

  “Where were you?”

  “In another research lab. I lost track of time and. . . I have about a million excuses. None of them matter. I’m sorry. I’m here now.”

  “It was worse this time. Deeper, somehow. I wasn’t sure I would ever wake up again. I still don’t quite feel myself.”

  Dr. Archer picked up a tablet. “I’ll run some tests. We have data from the other times you didn’t receive your dosage.”

  Hawk yawned. “I need the automatic blood injector hardware. It’s getting more dangerous each time I don’t take it.”

  “I swear, I won’t forget again—”

  “Just install it. No arguments.”

  For once, she didn’t issue one. She looked away. She felt guilty. Hawk didn’t care. There was one person he loved above all others and he wasn’t about to risk losing him.

  Himself.

  He wouldn’t let himself miss another dose. His very life depended on it.

  Across the room, Joe leaned against his cage. Only one hand clutched a metal bar. His right arm hung uselessly at his side.

  If Hawk could turn paler, his blood would have rushed from his face. It’d felt like a dream. Something distant and just beyond the horizon. It can’t possibly be true. It can’t possibly have really happened. . .

  The doctor followed Hawk’s line of sight. “You noticed? Joe managed to hurt himself. When you turned into one, he went nuts. Want to watch the video?”

  Hawk shook his head. “I’ll take your word for it.”

  “Do you remember anything before you blacked out?”

  “Nothing I’d want to remember.”

  Dr. Archer turned the video on and watched it on her tablet. “It’s odd. While you were in the final stages of succumbing to the Hunger, Joe reached for the door keypad. Isn’t that bizarre? Almost as if he understood you needed help.”

  She looked at him pointedly.

  Hawk shrugged. “He was mimicking me. If I saw that, I’d have done the same thing.”

  “Except you have consciousness. Joe doesn’t. And you couldn’t do what you needed. Jo
e did it instead.”

  She smiled. How much does she know?

  “What are you suggesting?” Hawk said. “That I controlled him somehow?”

  “Something like that. There’s no denying the effect you have on him.”

  “Or he flailed around like zombies do and accidentally struck the keypad.”

  Dr. Archer didn’t take her eyes off him. “Perhaps.”

  She moved to an operating tool tray and wheeled it over.

  “Time for the automatic blood injector,” she said. “We had it especially designed for you.”

  Just like the device in my head.

  Hawk wondered if he was letting himself in for another random experiment. With any luck, it would finish the job the first device had failed to do and end him.

  At least that way I can get some peace.

  * * *

  Dr. Archer possessed the same beautiful face, her eyes twinkled with the same fierce energy, and she shared the same unshakeable confidence she always carried, but now her mannerisms had an edge to them.

  It was as if Hawk had only witnessed her superficially before, and now he saw her on multiple levels. She was innately kind but her motivations were less savory than he thought. He was nothing to her. A test subject, nothing more. He and Joe had more in common than he liked to admit.

  What killed him was the fact he would never be anything more to her.

  His heart sank. He’d made the mistake of actually thinking they might have a future together. A timeline that would never exist.

  She probably can’t even stand the sight of me.

  Dr. Archer took a step back. “Try moving your limbs. If the remote device is working, you’ll have no problem moving them.”

  Hawk obeyed. He tested the weight, shifting from side to side.

  “Can you kick?”

  Hawk the performing monkey raised his leg at the hip and kicked out from the knee. His ankle caught on the restraint. The leg felt heavier than his original flesh and bone model.

  Dr. Archer clapped her hands. “Wonderful. How about we fix those arms today? They’re not so badly damaged as your legs. They shouldn’t take long to administer.”