Broken Mirror: Apophis 2029 (17 page)

  "Don't be frightened, come on," I motioned gently for her to come to me.

  "What about the monster?" the child blubbered fearfully, her eyes scanning the hall around her as she stood their poised and afraid to move.

  "It's gone, but you need to come with me now," I urged while lying as best as I could, not exactly knowing where the creature was at the moment, "what is your name, little one?" I beckoned again for her to hurry.

  "Hannah," she stammered, still shaken by the brutal events moments she experienced moments before.  Her eyes now wandering towards the dead bodies strewn about the hall with an anxious pout forming on her lips as a tear dripped down her cheek. 

  "Hannah, I need you to follow me, okay?  We need to leave now.  I can take you to your parents," I added, hoping that I was not referring to anyone of the corpses lying broken and sprawled around the corridor. 

  "Mmmkay," she whimpered softly, as she suddenly bolted towards me.  Her arms were outstretched, as if she expected me to grab her up the way her mother had always done.  With her eyes locked upon me she faltered and stumbled while she ran the wrong way around and went straight through the mound of bodies littering the edge of the alcove. 

  I stood there, horrified, and almost blacked out with overwhelming anguish.  The little girl had tripped and fallen to her knees, having caught her innocent fall by planting both her palms into a pool of infected blood.  A mixed look of confusion and dread washed across her face as she held up her bloodied hands, droplets of red falling from her stained fingers.

  Mentally, I wasn't there anymore; all I could see was the face of that little girl I had taken care of for that family in the woods all those years ago.  The image of that innocent child petting that limp squirrel, and the pus of contagion dripping from its dead eyes.  At that moment I relived the emptiness I felt as I fled that evening, leaving that poor girl to her fate.  The gunshot I heard echoing through the valley of a parent shooting their child, and not knowing if they had all met their fate because I had been too cowardly, too emotionally weak to do the right thing when the moment called. 

  I knew it would haunt me, and here she was, staring at me again.  Her face on another child; the pleading stare of what circumstance and destiny had brought her young life to such a sudden and horrible end.  I fell back against the wall, something inside of me breaking.  This girl before me, crying tears that would soon turn to a weeping of her own blood from her wide innocent eyes.  To lose everything she is or was, or will ever be; into something absent and pitiful.

  An agony welled inside, weakening me as I took several steps back, one after the other until I had to tear myself away.  There were others to save who still had a chance, though I had an overwhelming feeling that I had left a part of myself behind standing in that blood drenched alcove.  I wanted to cry, to bawl my tears out as I ran away from myself; but I had become too groomed, too jaded to show a single tear of sorrow, for it had become a familiar symbol of death and our lost humanity in our forsaken world.

  Kane was led several steps in front of Thorn, who encouraged him forward with a helpful prod from time to time.  Beatrice directed the two men through local speaker system from back in the control room, advising them where they needed to turn as they tracked the creature via the security cameras embedded in the video screens which were peppered throughout the complex.  The number of guards Kane had on staff were actually very few, which were the only personnel in the facility he allowed to carry weapons; the lethality of which, was greatly lacking, Thorn discovered from his overdressed captive.

  "So, instead of going on this mutant goose chase, why didn't you just order a squad of armed guards to blast that thing?  I know it's big, but a shot to the head should stop it," Thorn muttered to Kane as he gave him another push towards the lower recycle chamber.

  "For all that attitude of yours, you're actually not the brightest crayon in the box, are you?"  Kane snapped back at Thorn, attempting to insult his younger man, "You grabbed the first gun you could get your twitchy little fingers on, but you never even bothered to check the magazine."

  Thorn froze in apprehension and quickly checked the weight of the pistol he held, opening the clip to see if there was any ammo.  Suspicious for a brief moment that Kane might be manipulating him into some sort of ambush, Thorn visually checked the clip; and with a sigh he confirmed that it was loaded, but noted it was filled with a number of strange blue flat tipped slugs.

  "What the hell are these?" Thorn spat back as he engaged the clip back into the weapon.

  "Stun bullets," the old man replied, "it's not such a good idea to shoot any infected and take the chance of getting blood everywhere, or to kill the occasional rowdy civilian ...its bad for public relations," Kane smirked.

  With a grumble, Thorn realized that Kane was correct for the most part.  Using lethal force on the residents would likely raise the level of dissent among the community.  Popping a Weeper now and then at a distance had its uses, but firearms did splatter infected material that could be a liability in such enclosed quarters as this.  These stun bullets had a unique sheath that were designed to create a high electrical charge as they left the specialized barrel.  These weapons had a much lower velocity than a regular firearm, and were not designed to penetrate, but could certainly deliver a decent amount of voltage to drop most anyone.  However, they were devised to work on someone
normal
; and it was assumed the crazed, oversized mutation they were chasing likely didn't fit the bill.

  "Still, why not just get a squad of your men and stun the fuck out of that thing?" Thorn suggested, offering his two cents of wisdom.

  "The frozen specimens were engineered to have a unique physiology.  I doubt their nerve impulses would even be affected in any manner to stop it in its tracks," Kane replied, "you might only tickle that thing with these non-lethal weapons, or end up really pissing it off," Kane offered back.

  That being the case, it wasn't really relevant at the moment if they were going to provoke the creature anymore than it already was, since it was engineered to be hostile to begin with.  The mutation was an organism designed to go on a rampage behind enemy lines; there was little thought put into what would be done after the biological weapon had served its purpose other than termination.  The fact that those government scientists had actually taken a living human being and turned it into that lumbering atrocity made it perfectly clear exactly who the monsters
really
were.

  "We've drawn the target into the lower level and it has entered the recycle chamber.  You two need to get down there and barricade the doors," Beatrice advised over the intercom screen on the wall nearest them.

  "Where is Caity, now?" Thorn replied to the video board, checking to make sure she was safe. 

  "Cait is mak'in her way through the main level and getting the survivors to the elevator," Haiti's voice came over the speaker, "she's do'in okay, man," he consoled his friend, which satisfied Thorn's concerns for the moment.

  "You two don't have any time to lose," Beatrice cut in with urgency, "I don't think we could lure that thing back in there once it realizes there is nothing down in that section," she added.

  Both men hurried down the chamber hall until they came upon the stairway down to the reclamation conveyor apparatus, known as the Grinder, which was used for processing compost.  What was a matter of concern was that when the huge beast had made its way through the entry to the machine room, it was apparent that it had taken an intense disliking to the double doors, one of which was nearly torn entirely from its hinges.  This did not bode well for their planned attempt to lock it inside.  Thorn ran to the nearest video screen and addressed the control room of this troubling development.

  He could hear Haiti and Beatrice bickering with one another as their ethnic friend argued the question as to how they were supposed to subdue that creature with only a single pistol between them.  The old woman suggested they should use the recycler as a distraction.  The sad fact was, they really didn't have a clue what to do after getting that monstrosity past the bulkhead doors to the bottom level if they couldn't lock the doors and entrap it and hope it would fall into the recycler.  Thorn was starting to get nervous about their choices, and didn't relish the idea of being torn limb from limb like a rag doll. 

  "Well, it looks like this is going to be a one way trip," Kane smirked, noting Thorn
’
s hesitation, "I would assume you're going to need my help on this one, young man," he added with a crass undertone as he held up his bound hands to have them untied by his captor. 

  Thorn pondered his choices for the moment and finally untied the General, who rubbed his wrists as a wry grin grew upon his thin lips.  While Haiti and Beatrice squabbled
about a course of action over the speakers, their verbal quarrel slowly died down and they promptly brought up a schematic upon the video panel in front of the two men.  One of the split screens showed the security camera footage of the hulking creature wandering down into the refuse chamber.

  "We just turned on the recycler drum.  You need to get down there and somehow blockade the stairway to keep that thing trapped within that chamber, or lure it into the recycler," Beatrice advised curtly.

  "Betty, what are we supposed to do in there; politely ask it to jump into the grinder?" Kane added with sarcasm.  

  "Don't you have any
real
firearms stored somewhere down here we could use to kill this thing?" Thorn inquired, "Where did you put our weapons?  We could go grab those and try to put a few holes in its ugly head," he finished, satisfied with the logic of his proposal. 

  "Almost all of the lethal weapons are locked up on the depository, a level above the control room, and our head of security is the only one with the key," Kane replied from behind him, "we don't allow the residents to carry anything harmful to themselves or others."

  "...Or to your authority," Thorn snapped back.  Kane just rolled his eyes in response to the allegation, further agitating his opinion of the old bastard. 

  Thorn wanted to suggest that Haiti secure their weapons from storage, and have is friend run them down to their location; but he actually didn't like the idea of leaving that devious old woman in the control room unsupervised.  He could just imagine all the hassle she could cause in their effort to escape if left to her own devices.  Thorn started to realize his own mortality in a way he hadn't felt before.  Walking into a dead end chamber with nothing more than a few non-lethal shock bullets against something as powerful and unpredictable as that overgrown mutation started to pass the very fringe of outright stupidity. 

  Back near the auditorium, Caitlin had made her way through several blind corridors searching for any survivors that hadn't found their way to the central cafeteria.  Many of the residents were duly hysterical, having been shielded from the horrors that had mercifully passed them by over the past several years.  Frankly, Caitlin was wondering how these people would adjust to the harsh life and psychological shock that was waiting for them on the surface, in comparison to what they had become accustomed too deep below ground.   She turned around when she heard someone calling her name from an open room.

  "Caity!" a familiar voice echoed, "In the room to your left," the voice instructed.  Cautiously wandering into the room she found Haiti's excited face peering at her through one of the video screen posters embedded on the wall.  "We tracked your location on the security system monitors, and this was the nearest console," Haiti explained.

  "Where is everyone," I asked, "were Thorn and Kane able to trap that creature?"

  "Not yet," he answered with a sour look, "that thing ripped off the damn doors to the recycling chamber.  It appears that everyone who is left alive has assembled at the cafeteria near the restricted access doors and ready to go.  They are all look'in mighty worried too," he finished as Beatrice came into view of the camera. 

  "We need you to guide the residents to the elevator," Betty mentioned.

  "Can't you just open the access doors to it from the control room and let them through?" I inquired.  Betty fiddled for a moment at the control board and glanced back with an annoyed look on her face.

  "It's appears as if the automated lock has been manually disabled.  There is a backup switch to engage it again on the bottom level," Beatrice replied. 

  "Can't you reach Thorn or Kane, and have them do it?" Caitlin asked, shaking her head at the logic of the situation.  Why hadn't Beatrice mentioned this earlier?

  "I just tried to reach them both, but they aren't answering.  It appears they are already in the processing chamber, and we don't want to further antagonize that monster or allow it to get out again," the old woman answered.  Caitlin shook her head again at the irony of the situation.  They had just directed a rampaging mutant into the one chamber that held a reset switch vital for their escape. 

  "...Hmm, fantastic," I muttered under my breath.

  "The problem is, there is only one console in that chamber and if we use the communications to reach them it could very well attract the creature to their presence," Betty admitted, "and we can't risk the chance of it damaging the junction box that resets the security doors."  Unfortunately, this put Caitlin in the uncomfortable position of having to intervene. 

  "You have to go down there, lass," Haiti budged into the camera view for a brief moment at the old woman's noted annoyance.  After he fell away, Beatrice came back into focus.

  "We directed you to this residential room because it was the private chambers of our head of security, who keeps an emergency weapon under lock in there." Betty advised.

  "Are you sure he didn't already take it with him," I asked as I scanned the room around me, finally finding a weapons locker tucked within the wall.

  "Fortunately for us, it appears our officer in chief was one of the first victims of the attack," Beatrice mentioned as a flash from the security footage showed the individual she was speaking of left in a blood-spattered mess painting the floor and walls of the ballroom, with his left arm missing from its crumpled torso.

  "Unfortunate for him, I'd say," Haiti's voice butted in over the microphone.

  "One moment," Betty commented "...the log file shows that there should be a spare keycard located under the drawer of his desk.  That should open the weapons locker."

  Searching under the desk, I found the key snugly fitted into a hidden plastic sleeve and removed it.  It took me a moment to find the magnetic slot where the card fit in, and popped the lock.  Wary of how useful this card might be, I slipped it into my pocket.  The weapon nestled inside was huge, a bit on the side of overkill.

  It was a Centurion IV military grade ion blaster.  These things were one of the latest phases of weapons technology.  Instead of crude bullets that relied on an internal combustion shell to deliver a projectile, this used electrically charged laser light to deliver a pulse of energy.  Honestly, I was afraid to pick it up, not knowing what its capabilities were or the kick it might have.

  The small white lettered operational instructions printed on its side were obnoxiously curt and mostly what I would consider gibberish.  All I cared about was where the safety button was and how much ammo it had.  I discovered a power switch that gave a satisfying hum when I flipped it on, but the glowing red readout on the edge of the scope meant nothing I could decipher; leading me to guess that it must have been made by a foreign manufacturer.

  "Where is this recycle chamber?" I inquired while turning back to the screen with the enormous sleek black weapon in my hands.  Haiti's eyes widened for a moment when he got a glimpse of the gun, and then the screen brought up a diagram of the floor plan to the lower floors.  Two levels down I found the access stairs and hall that skirted the tree nursery that Beatrice had showed me on our first tour.  I headed out the hall and swiftly made my way towards the basement.

  Kane and Thorn literally tiptoed their way down into the bottom level, occasionally freezing in place every time they heard a loud crash or metallic crack" echoing up the stairwell.