Deadrise (51 page)

"What were you laughing at in here?" he asked absently. He had taken two steps into the room before he realized there was something wrong. When the eyeless Alpha on the table turned to look at him, Dr. Vasquez stopped in his tracks, his blood running cold.

"GET OUT!" Dr. Cooper shouted at him, running around the opposite end of the examination tables to stay as far away from the Alpha as possible.

Dr. Vasquez was turning to leave when he spotted movement on the floor near his feet. He looked down in time to see a black, slimy slug slither across his shoe with astonishing speed and underneath his surgical gown. He let out a yowl of disgusted fear, raising his foot and slapping at his leg. He could feel the slug squirming up his calf then the back of his thigh. He was groping for it, his yelps of fear now becoming screams of terror, but the little creature was too fast, slipping into the fold of his buttocks, squirming down against the skin, looking for a body orifice to gain entrance and suddenly his screams of terror became wails of agony.

Dr. Cooper watched Dr. Vasquez fall to the ground, clawing at his buttocks, his tortured wails echoing loudly in the tiled, sanitary autopsy room. He looked back to the Alpha, who had ripped the body bag down its entire length and was now methodically extracting its legs. There were two tables between Dr. Cooper and the Alpha, and the only door was halfway across the room, past the creature. He spotted another slug squirming quickly across the floor toward him, leaving a glistening trail of slime behind it. He quickly stomped on it and bolted for the door, expecting the Alpha to spring from the table and tackle him at any moment.

But the attack never came.

He passed Dr. Vasquez’ body, which was now convulsing violently on the floor. His eyes were rolled into his skull and there was a greenish black hue creeping into his skin, but then Dr. Cooper was past him, through the swinging doors into the morgue, which was cold and lined with stainless steel gurneys. Most of them were empty, but there were three that held naked bodies covered with white sheets. The bodies had been drilled through the forehead to prevent reanimation. His breath steamed as he exhaled and he had the sudden need to urinate. To either side of him he saw a pair of slugs squirming by into the far reaches of the room. He turned back to the double swinging doors, stopped their movement and set the steel locking latches on each door into the frame above and the floor at its base.

His heart was hammering like a kettledrum in his chest, his nerves singing with adrenaline and fear. His breath was coming in short, quick gasps and he was covered in a cold sweat. But despite all that, he could not resist looking through the Plexiglas windows set into the doors to observe the Alpha’s actions.

It climbed off the table and approached the next body in line, Sgt. Brown. Dr. Cooper could see how the transformation into an Alpha had readjusted and set many of the mangled body’s broken bones. There were still protuberances where the spine set awkwardly there, the neck at an odd angle… The Alpha unzipped the bag, exposing Sgt. Brown’s corpse, still clad in mangled EBA, the broken faceplate revealing the burnt, fire-ravaged face beneath. The Alpha appeared to look it up and down for several moments before it bent down to the ground to pick something up…one of the black slugs was clenched between its thumb and forefinger. It held the squirming slug over Sgt. Browns gaping, charred mouth and slowly turned its head so the gaping face-hole was looking at Dr. Cooper through the Plexiglas window. Its mouth spread into an even wider smile, and Dr. Cooper felt a
tickle
right behind his eyes, and heard a soft, bubbling chuckle echoing inside his skull.

The Alpha dropped the slug into the corpses open mouth.

Sgt. Brown's body began to shake, softly at first but increasing in ferocity with each passing second. Dr. Cooper looked to the floor just beyond and to the side of the door where Dr. Vasquez’ body had fallen still. Surgical blues covered most of him but his hands and face were exposed, and they were the black, leathery skin of an Alpha. He slowly sat up and Dr. Cooper could see its eyes still appeared human, but narrowed with menace and burning red with evil.

Dr. Cooper turned and ran for the exit, a low, hollow moan escaping his throat as he ran. He pulled open the morgue door and screamed with fright when he saw the soldier guarding the door. The soldier, who had been drinking a cup of hot coffee, was startled as well and he spilled the drink down his chest.

"What the hell is-" he began angrily.

"SOUND THE ALARM! ALPHAS ARE LOOSE IN THE HOSPITAL!" Dr. Cooper ran past the angry guard, not even looking back.

"Dr. Cooper?" the guard called after him, but Dr. Cooper kept running. The guard heard a clatter of something inside the morgue, and he turned to investigate. There was nothing there but the open door, which was slowly swinging shut. But the guard spotted something scurrying across the floor towards the narrowing opening. It was a worm or slug of some kind, and it moved with lightning speed. It was out the door, across the floor and slithering toward his foot in just a few seconds. He raised his foot to stomp it when something in the morgue caught his eye…

A zombie walking around inside!

He reached for his gun but something warm and slimy climbing his inner thigh distracted him.

The slug!

He clawed at it but it found shelter under his scrotum. But it didn’t stop there, seeking out his anus and probing inward. Seconds later, the agony overtook him.

Dr. Cooper reached the elevator fifty feet down the hallway just as the guard began screaming. His momentum caused him to slam into the elevator doors but he paid it little attention, instead punching the call key frantically several times. He looked behind him. The guard was flopping like a fish out of water, his screams echoing down the hallway. He saw the Alpha walk out of the morgue and stand over the guard. Behind him the elevator door
dinged
and slid open with a silent
whoosh.
He stumbled back into the car, stabbing the button for the ground level with his index finger. Down the hallway the Alpha bent down and extracted the M-16 from the dead soldiers grasp, pulling the strap off his shoulder with an almost gentle touch.

Then the elevator doors slid shut and the car was climbing…

Chapter 52

Tuesday, June 26, 2001

Park City, UT

4:51 PM

Jenkins and the exterminator, Sgt. Joe Farrell, had taken General Parker's Humvee back to HQ. Sgt. Farrell had stripped out of his EBA down in the basement of the hospital and was now wearing brown and green camouflage. He was on the radio with HQ, confirming the Generals death.

"Is it true?" the driver asked as they drove.

"It's true. General Parker is dead, killed by deadfucks down in the hospital." Jenkins answered.

"Who is in command now?" The driver sounded worried. He was a young Hispanic kid barely out of high school, with a thin mustache and close cropped head. Cocky and headstrong, he was breaking protocol and he knew it, but Jenkins let it slide.

"I am." That seemed to satisfy the kid because he asked no more questions and focused on driving.

"What’s your name Private?" Jenkins asked the driver.

"Jimenez sir. Private Patrick Jimenez."

"The word is out to all units. Park City is yours Colonel." Sgt. Farrell said flatly.

"Just what I always wanted." Jenkins muttered sourly. Matt was going to be ecstatic when he radioed home with the good news. "How long have you been in the service…
Major?
"

"Sir?" The Sgt. Looked at him, unsure of how to respond.

"Consider yourself promoted Major. Now answer my question."

"Ten years last march sir."

"Any family here in the city with you?"

"No sir. I never married. My folks are down in Texas."

"Were you assigned here before the outbreak?"

"No sir. Based out of Bragg."

"Third Special Forces Group?" Jenkins asked. Green Berets.

"Yes Sir. We were on a training mission at Camp Williams when the shit hit the fan." Camp Williams was a small Army base twenty miles south of Salt Lake City. "When everything went to hell our Colonel commandeered a transport and we cut through Provo City and onto highway forty and came here."

"Where is the rest of your unit?"

"Colonel McNamara took most of the men and headed to Evanston
on a raid and ordered the rest of us to help defend the city. They never returned. I joined the Park City militia and because of my experience in the 3'rd SFG, Dr. Cooper hand picked me for the extermination team."

Jenkins had to hold back a smirk. General Parker had assigned this Green Beret to Dr. Cooper to act as mop-up man while putting Captain Sheen in command of the militia.

Priceless.

"What’s your loyalty Captain Sheen?"

"Sir?" Sgt. Farrell didn’t understand.

"I need a right hand man, Major. I don’t trust that son of a bitch Sheen and Dr. Cooper is crazy. That leaves you as the only other one I know. What do you say, Major? Can I trust you to watch my back while I try to run this fucking monkey farm?"

"Of course you can sir." Major Farrell said with a smile. "General Parker is dead and I have no loyalty to Sheen. As for that butcher Cooper…" Farrell’s words faded with his smile.

"Good, then it’s settled. Major Farrell, you are now second in command of Park City." Farrell just nodded in appreciation.

When they reached HQ the two guards out front snapped to attention and gave him a sharp, crisp salute. Jenkins muttered under his breath but returned the salute. "As you were." He and the major walked past them into the lobby.

Standing there in the lobby was Captain Sheen, surrounded by half a dozen other soldiers that Jenkins recognized as War Room support personnel. Their faces hardened when they spotted Jenkins. But Capt. Sheen only smiled. The rest of the lobby was empty, even the front desk clerk was gone from his station. Jenkins didn’t like the feel of this one, but thought he could bluff his way through.

"Look Sheen I don’t have time for your bullshit right no-" Sheen caught him with a surprise punch to the jaw. Jenkins staggered back and fell to the floor.

"You just struck a superior officer!" Farrell said, stepping forward to intercede, but Sheen only smiled at him.

"Out of the way nigger! The Colonel and I have some personal business to settle." Sheen spoke through clenched teeth, his wired jaw swollen and bruised. "Seize this son of a bitch." Three of Sheens cronies jumped forward and grabbed Farrell from behind. He began to struggle but one of them, a tall, rabbit faced redneck, put the barrel of an automatic pistol to the back of his head.

"Give me a reason nigger."

Farrell bit back his anger and relaxed. His side arm was confiscated and he was handcuffed.

"Leave him out of this Sheen. It’s me you want." Jenkins had climbed back to his feet, spitting blood and a tooth.

"I’m so glad you got back up cocksucker." Sheen laughed through his clenched teeth then winced at the pain it caused.

"This is mutiny!" Farrell blurted.

"Shut the fuck up, nigger!" The redneck smashed the butt of his pistol across the back of Sgt. Farrell’s head, just behind the ear. He dropped to his knees with a grunt of pain. One of the other soldiers kicked him in the stomach. He fell to the ground, gasping for breath.

"What the fuck is this Sheen? Mutiny is a hanging offense." Jenkins advanced, his arms raised like a boxer.

"There’s no mutiny here cocksucker, only taking out the trash. General Parker was your only friend.
He
promoted you to Colonel and made you his advisor. As far as we’re concerned, you died with him." There was pure hatred in Sheen's eyes. Despite his broken chin, he raised his arms and met Jenkins challenge.

"Looking for second’s of what I gave you this morning?" Jenkins asked.

"You got lucky earlier today, I’ll give you that...but now your ass is mine." Sheen stalked across the room toward Jenkins. Jenkins stepped in for a right cross but Sheen blocked it with his left arm and fired two quick right hooks into Jenkins solar plexus. Jenkins hunched with pain and Sheen grabbed him by the back of the shirt, spun him around and threw him across the room where he crashed over the reception desk.

Jenkins rolled painfully from behind the desk, doing his best to conceal the two 9mm automatic he had drawn. He came to a stop on his back and brought both pistols up, aiming straight at Capt. Sheen. Sheens eyes went wide and his face contorted in surprise as he tried to recoil away… Jenkins fired both automatics simultaneously, one bullet hitting Sheen in the stomach and the other high in the chest, near the shoulder. Sheen spun backward, clutching at his wounds, but Jenkins was already tracking on the rabbit faced redneck that held a 9mm of his own. The gunplay had taken Sheens henchmen by surprise and Jenkins could see the resignation in the rednecks eyes as he drilled a single 9mm slug through the bastard’s brain. The other two that had seized Farrell scrabbled for their side arms. Jenkins fired both 9mm’s into the one on the right, catching him square in the chest with both rounds. He stumbled back but didn’t fall so Jenkins put another double-punch into his stomach. By now the second guard had pulled his 9mm free of his holster while the remaining three had fled for cover or the exit.