The infected dead book 8.., p.25
The Infected Dead | Book 8 | Returned For Now, page 25
part #8 of The Infected Dead Series
There were elevators and stairs, and despite the fact they were impressed with what they had seen so far, none of them had the urge to be enclosed in an elevator when the unknown was on the other side of the door. MC made the point that when the door opened, they would have nowhere to go if there were infected dead on the other side. The reality of that situation was even more frightening than a power failure while they were using the elevator.
They found the stairs in the far right corner of the control center, but according to the floorplans there was another set of stairs in the opposite corner. From what they could see in the general layout, the designer of the shelter must have been familiar with safety codes and wanted more than one way out of every level or room. All rooms had at least two doors, and each landing in the stairwell could be accessed from two places.
The stairwell was standard military design right down to the gray paint on the handrails, and although they were tempted to cross the landing and peek through the opposite door, they stayed together and went up. The sounds of their feet echoed from above and below, and they realized they had all been under a misconception about the size of the shelter. They had assumed the levels were going to be the same as the stories of a building, but after about a dozen steps they came to a landing with no doors. The stairs turned and went up, but time after time they came to more stairs, more landings, and not always doors. They decided as a group to pass doors that weren’t labeled but were already coming to the conclusion that it had been a bad idea because none had been labeled so far.
“I don’t suppose anyone has been keeping count,” said MC.
Gentry said, “I’ll admit it. I’m a little OCD, and I count everything, but a NASA Psychologist told me that engineers tend to do that.”
“So, how many flights of stairs have we climbed?” asked Karen. “You young people can use the stairs. I’m using the elevators once we get to the next level.”
“Three so far, but I think that’s a door on the next one. We’ll call that one number four, but the levels might not all be the same size.”
“Some might be bigger,” said Karen.
MC got to the landing ahead of the others, and he stopped them outside the first door.
“We have no reason one way or the other to think we’re alone here. We should do this quietly and carefully until we know for sure.”
“You don’t think that movie was enough?” asked Gentry.
MC seemed ready for the question because he had a question for Gentry that stopped her in her tracks.
“Did you expect to be here?”
Gentry realized she had been acting like this had all been meant for her just because she was the Flight Director. She knew that the builders of the shelter had expected someone more important to be in the shelter, but she had figured the Colonel was the only military man who had known, and he had only made plans for MC to get her into the shelter. If the four of them were in the shelter, someone else might be there too.
Everyone got behind MC when he got into position by the door, and he pulled it open just far enough to see through. The smell assaulted their noses, and the source of it was obvious. A dark smear ran along the otherwise shiny floor. It glistened with the light from the ceiling, and the redness was all any of them needed to see to know it was fresh.
MC had learned in his combat tours to shut his mouth quickly when exposed to the horrors of war. It became almost instinctive because explosives were far from surgical in the damage they did. Karen and Wanda couldn’t claim to ever be used to what they had seen in emergency rooms, but they had seen enough to be able to control their reactions. The same couldn’t be said for Gentry. She had allowed herself to believe they were safe inside the shelter. She wasn’t ready for what was behind the door.
When she retched she tried to turn away quickly, but the spasms came faster. MC was distracted from the door for no more than a few seconds, but it was enough time to allow the infected dead to get through the opening. Everyone fell backward onto the landing, and even though MC had his rifle between himself and the infected, there was no time for him to take aim. All he could do was push as hard as he could with the rifle across his body.
The weight of the uncoordinated man seemed incredible to MC. It was like pushing against a wet sandbag, and for a few moments he understood what people were saying when they referred to the dead weight of something. With the barrel of his rifle against the floor, MC used it like a lever and managed to make the infected dead roll away from him toward the lip of the stairs. He gave one last desperate shove, and the man rolled just far enough for gravity to take over. Each time the dead man hit the stairs and began another turn toward the next one, there was a slapping sound.
A second infected dead came through the open door and slipped on the blood that had spread out across the floor. MC was amazed to see entrails around its ankles, and something gave him the strength to reach out and grab them. It felt like a rubbery, wet hose that was too slippery to hold. He pulled hard enough to make the man flip backward and slide head first down the stairs with the first one. The intestines were so long that they uncoiled from the man as he rolled away. MC still had a loop of the greasy organ wrapped around his hand even though the infected was on a lower level than him. He let it slide to the floor, only just then realizing that Gentry was on her knees and her hands retching violently.
Wanda surprised them all by being the first to get to the open door. She slid into the wall and almost lost her balance, but she managed to get it closed. She had to use her feet to kick the rest of the intestines down the stairs. Then she put her hands under Gentry’s armpits and lifted.
“Let’s go!”
Her yell was much louder in the stairwell than she wanted it to be, but it got everyone moving. The second of the infected dead was already on its feet and attempting to climb the stairs, but the first one was kneeling on a loop of intestine and keeping it from making progress. The smell was worse than what they were seeing. Gentry was the only one in their group who had never smelled a perforated bowel, and even though it was enough to make it hard for any of them to breathe, at least the others could fight off the smell long enough to get themselves moving.
Going up was their only option, but with each labored step, they were further from the stench. Karen switched off with Wanda and pushed Gentry ahead of her, while MC had produced a rag from one of his many uniform pockets and covered her nose and mouth. It smelled like gun cleaner, but that was better than what she had endured.
After what seemed like forever, there was another pair of doors, and there was no doubt that they had to cut themselves off from the smell in the stairwell. MC took more time to open the door nearer to him, and all he saw was a brightly lit corridor beyond the crack he peeked through. There was also nothing on the floor to indicate there would be a repeat of what they had experienced one landing down.
He held the door wide and pushed them through. Once they were by him, he followed so closely that he was shoving them ahead of him, and pulled the door shut. The first thing on his mind was to find a sink with running water. Soap would be good, but the putrid odor clinging to his hands had to go.
The hallway was curved, and there were no doorways on the outer wall, but several yards ahead there was one on the right.
“Stay here for a minute,” he said before taking off toward the door.
He didn’t have to worry about Gentry going anywhere. She was flat on the clean floor sobbing and heaving. Every time she heaved, her knees drew up to her chest, and then her body quickly straightened again as if she was trying to pump something from her cramping stomach.
“We’ve got to help her to relax,” said Karen. “These are involuntary spasms, and I’m afraid one will be violent enough for her to injure herself.”
“What can we do? I’ve never seen a seizure like this.”
“Hope MC finds something that smells better. She needs deep breaths.”
Miraculously, MC appeared as fast as he had left, and he must’ve had some idea of what would help Gentry because he had a towel that he’d soaked with cold water. Karen gratefully grabbed it and began mopping at the back of Gentry’s neck and getting as much of the cooling water into her hair as she could. In the meantime, she had the other end of the towel in her other hand and let Gentry bury her face into it. They could hear Gentry gaining control as she drew in deep breaths, each one refreshing her nasal passages and sinuses by replacing the putrid odor of rot.
When her breathing had calmed and her body was no longer trying to pull itself into a big knot, they rested her against the wall and mopped at her forehead and neck with the wet towel.
Karen said to MC, “I don’t know what made you think of a wet towel or where you found it, but that was perfect.”
“I would’ve gotten back faster if my hands hadn’t been so gross. As a matter of fact, I’m going to go wash them again. There’s something like an apartment through that door on the right.”
“You sure it’s safe?” she called after him.
“You smell anything?”
“Oh, God,” moaned Gentry. She gave one minor heave and covered her mouth with her hand.
Wanda took over with the wet towel and told Karen to go with MC. She could also stand to at least throw some fresh water into their faces, but the smell coming off of their clothes was becoming more noticeable now that they were out of the stairwell.
“Can you stand yet?”
Gentry was apparently recovering fast enough to understand that MC and Karen had found a sink, and Wanda didn’t have to ask her twice. She pushed away from the floor, and with Wanda’s help got to her feet. She leaned against the wall all the way to the door, but they made good time.
The inside of the door was something beyond their expectations. It was a furnished apartment that was modern and tastefully decorated. There was a wide open sitting area with a couch and easy chairs. Each was covered with overstuffed pillows.
Gentry’s eyes were wide. “I can see myself in my pajamas just curled up with a good book on that couch.”
Wanda said, “You bounce back pretty good, girl.”
Beyond the sitting area was a dining room, and they could hear water running in a kitchen that was separated from the dining room by a serving island. MC came out of the kitchen with a wet towel over his head and a bottle of beer in his hand, and he was already minus his boots and his pants.
“Don’t get any ideas, ladies. I rolled around in stuff I’d rather forget. There’s a laundry room on the other side of the kitchen.” They could hear the thumping noise from the washing machine as his boots sloshed around inside.
Gentry didn’t pay any attention to what MC said and had already collapsed face first into the pillows on the couch. Wanda and Karen squeezed by MC into the kitchen, obviously grateful that he smelled better already.
“Nice legs,” said Wanda. “That wasn’t the last beer, was it?”
There was a whole shelf full of beer in the refrigerator, and even though there wasn’t any fresh food or perishables, it was obvious they would be able to throw together a meal with little effort. A pantry had everything they needed in cans and boxes, and without giving a thought to more exploring, both nurses began clattering pots and pans with one goal in mind.
MC walked over to check on Gentry and found that she was snoring right where she had landed. He pulled a throw from the headrest of the couch and spread it over her legs. On his way past the kitchen, he grabbed a second beer from the refrigerator and then left the ladies to work whatever magic they had in mind. Whatever it was, it was already enough to make his stomach growl, but if all they would have was beer, he was fine for now.
To one side of the kitchen was a second sitting room, but this one had more than just a comfortable place to sit and talk. A huge television screen dominated one wall, and there was enough seating in recliners and sofas for at least nine or ten people. The small bathroom he had discovered when he had originally charged into the apartment looking for a sink was next to a set of stairs that went up to a short hallway. The doors were all open, and he just took a moment to step through each door and take a glance around.
The apartment was obviously designed for some type of communal living because each room was a bedroom, and each one was equipped with its own bathroom. It crossed his mind that the old man in the video presentation had said twelve levels with eight rooms on each level. It remained to be seen, but it was his guess that every level would offer something different, and this level was where the majority of the people would actually live. It was also obvious that the shelter was designed more for long term comfort of a few people rather than short term comfort for a large number of people. He didn’t know why, but he felt a sudden pang of guilt at the thought of saving just a select few instead of everyone that they could.
In a sudden moment of clarity, MC understood something about the shelter, the old man in the video, and the difference between saving a few people or saving mankind. This place was designed for the long haul. This wasn’t a place where they could just lay low for a bit. This was the rest of their lives.
When he got back downstairs, Wanda and Karen were already putting out place settings at the dining room table.
“Washing machine finished, so I tossed your pants in the dryer,” said Karen. “I hope you don’t expect me to make a habit of it. I already got rid of one husband who thought that was my job.”
“His loss,” said MC with a wink in her direction.
“Oh, I like him. If he was a couple years older….”
“Find anything upstairs?” asked Wanda.
“I don’t know what any of this means yet, but it looks like a nice place to live. Anyone try the TV?”
Since he got a round of head shakes, MC went back toward the room with the TV, but on the way he stopped and checked on his pants. They were dry enough, and they felt good going on warm. He helped himself to another beer and found the remote, not really expecting anything except a library of old series. When he turned it on, he was surprised to see a familiar network reporter standing in front of a bank of monitors, each labeled with the names of major cities from around the world. He turned up the volume and watched in wide eyed fascination.
Wanda and Karen were drawn to the open door behind him and then to the sofas. No one spoke. It was enough to see that what they had experienced on a small scale was happening everywhere. Fire, smoke, police barricades, people throwing bottles with burning rags dangling from the open ends. The explosions, the gunshots, and the worst part….the people who didn’t fall also didn’t run, and they didn’t die. People engulfed in flames who walked with their arms outstretched, reaching for and grabbing at people who fought desperately to break free. Some of them did break free only to be caught again, and some were dragged to the ground as if captured by wild dogs.
A camera moved in closer where a group of men and women were doused in gasoline and set on fire, but even as they burned, they caught hold of the uniformed men who had the unfortunate duty of being on the front lines to fight these monsters. It was really a one sided battle because one side had no fear of dying.
“What city is that?” asked Gentry. No one had seen her come into the room, but no one looked her way when she spoke.
“Paris,” said MC.
“I lost track of time again, but I’m so tired. I don’t even know what day it is anymore.”
Karen held up her wrist and showed Gentry it was eleven o’clock.
Gentry shook her head and said, “Then that has to be just before sunrise in France. How long was I asleep?”
“Just a few minutes,” said MC. “Karen and Wanda are making supper. You need to eat, so don’t go back to sleep.”
Karen added, “You were asleep long enough to miss MC running around without his pants on.”
“It’s amazing what can happen in a few minutes,” said Wanda.
For a moment Gentry was confused by the kidding around. She didn’t remember much after they came in the door because she had dropped onto the sofa. She had only intended it as a joke, but apparently she had shut out the world for a few minutes. She also felt an odd pang of jealousy. Why was MC running around without his pants on?
MC saw the furrow on Gentry’s forehead, and despite having a lot to learn about life, and especially women, he knew that expression.
“Hey, Gentry. Remember getting sick out there on the stairs? That smell? Most of it was coming from me after I got done rolling around on the floor with those dead guys. I found a washer and dryer back there by the kitchen. My boots are still drying.” He held up a foot so she could see, and he was relieved to see in return that it all made sense to Gentry. He was also aware of the way Karen and Wanda were all over his hurry to convince Gentry there hadn’t been any funny business.
Karen came to his rescue by suggesting that it wouldn’t be a great idea to eat supper in front of the TV tonight. They all agreed that they should be civilized on this one occasion by sitting around the table. It might be one of the few times they could hang onto that kind of life.
Gentry and MC got to their seats because Wanda and Karen insisted on serving the food. They said it was nothing special, but it was apparently just what they needed because they could hardly wait. They dished out big plates of spaghetti and passed around the sauce. They had found frozen biscuits that would have to do in place of French bread, but it was about to be a feast to a very hungry group.
“Hang on everyone,” said Gentry. “I think we need to make a toast to our benefactor.” She held up her glass of beer so everyone at the table could do the same. “This is a toast in honor of Titus Rush.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Huntsville Shelter
The First Week
Supper became a time for healing, and if the hot food had come from the kitchen of a five star restaurant it wouldn’t have done more for them. It had been very little talk at first as fresh containers from a well stocked refrigerator were unwrapped and served as if there would always be enough food. The truth was that at least for the moment, they didn’t care about anything except for that one meal. Tomorrow could be worried about when it arrived.
