Machines of the Dead

Chapter 27

Guard Ryan Kellogg couldn’t believe it. The traitors were alive. And more than that, they looked okay, which was more than he could say for himself. Life just wasn’t fair, but then who said it would be? He laughed when Reynolds had told him and Jacobs to stay behind. Secure the warehouse, just in case. In case of what? In case those traitors tried coming back. He’d seen the zombies swarm on the apartment building shortly after the team went in. Not returning, he assumed they had all been killed. Guess he was wrong.

With all the zombies up the street, the guy bored out of his mind, Ryan had gone outside, wanting fresh air. He had been cooped up underground for way too long. He and the others were always worried about being overwhelmed by a horde whenever they left the bunker, but not from a bite. No. Bites were curable. One blast from the EMP or a T aser and all was well. It was being ripped apart and devoured that frightened them.

While patrolling the building’s perimeter, delighted to be breathing in fresh air, even if it was tainted with rot and a tinge of smoke from a nearby burning building, he was caught off guard when a zombie came from behind a dumpster and bit him. He’d killed the thing easily enough, sinking his knife into its head.

When he came back inside, he had Jacobs Taser him, and didn’t have another thought about the bite until he started feeling weak later that night. Convincing himself he was just coming down with a cold, maybe the flu, he went to bed, but waking up in the morning had been difficult. All he wanted to do was sleep. His body ached and his head pounded something fierce. For some reason the tasering hadn’t taken. The bots were still alive. He’d had Jacobs zap him again and was then left in the room at the bottom of the stairs to rest. Two shots with the Taser should have done it. Mentally, he’d felt better.

Unable to sleep, he got up and was barely able to make it to top of the stairs. If he had the flu, he had never had it this bad. He was burning up. Not caring how he looked, he’d taken off his shirt and pants, leaving only his shoes and underwear on. He was about to open the door and ask Jacobs to Taser him again when he heard the door unlock.

He pulled his sidearm, always keeping it on him, and was glad he did when he saw Jack Warren and his band of scum. He’d used the last of his strength to draw the weapon however, feeling weaker than ever now. Holding the gun on Jack, his arm was trembling. If he could do one good, righteous thing before he died, it would be to pull the trigger and end this troublemaker’s life, but he didn’t think he even had the strength to do that.

“You don’t look so good,” Jack said.

He saw Zaun and the bitch traitor, Lopez, both with their weapons pointed down. He saw the undead filling up the operations center, coming his way. Then everything but Jack’s face went out of focus, the background scene nothing more than a nightmarish blend of moving gore.

“You’re infected,” Jack went on. “We can help.”

“Ryan,” Lopez said, “at least let us in or we’re all going to die.”

A drop of sweat fell into his eyes. He blinked, trying hard not to waver. A blanket of exhaustion fell over him. Too weak to remain standing, his arm went limp. The gun slipped from his grasp, clacking to the floor. He stumbled backwards a few steps and fell.

Opening his eyes, Ryan saw Jack kneeling beside him on his right, Maria on his left. They must have gotten the door closed in time. No death for the traitors, at least not at this moment. Maria was speaking to him, her words sounding as if he was underwater. He was so hot. He’d love to be in a pool of cold water. For sure his death was fast approaching. Someone would put a bullet into his skull, but hopefully before that he’d come back and get to bite one of them. No, that wasn’t right. He was a soldier. He needed to do what was right by his country. True, he was getting a nice chunk of change, or rather was getting a nice chunk of change from Reynolds, but he still loved his country. He didn’t want to see it crumble. So many dead already. He had to tell these people what had happened to him. How the taser hadn’t worked. They had to know so when Reynolds captured them, they would tell him. They were the last chance to stop the epidemic. Maybe it was already too late. The damn thing had spread so fast and was mutating. The little fuckers were smart it seemed, or as Reynolds put it: “programmed to adapt.”

Grabbing Maria’s arm, he tried to speak, but his mouth wasn’t working properly. He could feel the slowness of his jaw, the slug-like movement of his tongue. His mouth felt like it was filled with sand. Pain exploded in his head, filling his vision with white. Death couldn’t come quick enough for Ryan Kellogg. Let the bots have his body, for when he was dead he’d no longer care.