Escape The 1st Omnibus: WTF Books 1-3 (34 page)

“Just don’t let me turn into one of these things, Chief,” Walkens pleaded.

“Just relax; we’re going to take good care of you.” Sean reached into Brooks’ aid bag and gave Walkens another dose of the morphine. Walkens’ gaze faded and he looked away, talking to himself.

Sean looked back to Nelson. “What the hell happened, Nelson?”

“Me and Ben … we was moving things … clearing the deck. We heard the power kick on … we was smiling and … joking about hot food tonight.” Nelson’s voice started to break as he looked down at his friend. The rest of the men had arrived at the scene and started to gather.

“It’s okay, Nelson. Just tell me where these things came from,” Sean said softly.

“From there, Chief.” Nelson pointed to a caged lift.

“How the hell? The lift was secured; it was in the lockout position. Bill and Tony said they checked it,” Sean exclaimed.

“That’s right, Chief, the engage bar was set to lockout,” Bill confirmed.

“I don’t know, Chief, we was standing right here. We heard the lift click; then the light turned green and it started to rise. Them things must have engaged it and pressed the operate button,” Nelson said.

Just then they heard the lift click again; the green light switched from green to red, and it started to drop into the lower deck.

“What the fuck!” Sean yelled. Brad and Sean ran forward, weapons at the ready, watching the lift drop. “Shut that thing down!” Sean yelled to Bill.

Bill ran to a control box and started digging through wires. “The breaker is below; I can kill it from here though … I just gotta find and disconnect the ground.” The lift finished its move to the lower deck, making a loud
clunk
. The red light went out. The lift made another loud
clunk
, the light turned green, and it started to move up again.

“Any time now Bill!” Sean yelled.

“I’m working on it Chief!”

Tony ran forward, fire axe in his hands, and shoved Bill out of the way. He swung the axe and severed half of the bundle. The lift still moved. Tony quickly adjusted his feet and swung hard again, severing the bundle in a bright spray of sparks. The lift hung dead with a short six inches of the top extending above the deck. The green light went out.

Brad let out a sigh of relief just as the primals in the lift began to moan. Brad stepped forward angrily and put his rifle into the small gap between the lift and the deck, ready to engage.

“Hold your fire!” Sean yelled.

“What?” Brad said, looking back.

“Save your ammo, they can’t get up here and we don’t want to rupture anything that will burn down there with wild shots,” Sean answered.

Brad nodded back, but kept a nervous eye on the lift, trying to see the monsters’ faces hiding in the shadows.

Sean turned back to Tony. “How the hell did the lift come up if it was locked out?” Sean asked.

“Someone … or some
thing
… had to have toggled the override below and pressed the lift button!” Tony stuttered.

“What the fuck? They’re pushing buttons now?” Sean asked.

“It’s the only way. Chief, you saw them call it back down! Those things are getting smarter,” Tony gasped.

“Okay, are there any more lifts?”

“No Chief, this is the only one.”

“Okay, listen up. Tony? Clean up that mess; I don’t want those cut wires starting a fire. Swanson? You and Bill back to the power house; get this place online and get the water running. Craig? You and Wilson keep your eyes on this lift. I want the two of you patrolling between here and the stairway. The rest of you help me get Ben back to the lounge,” Sean barked. “Any questions? No? Good, move out!”

Ben’s arms had been restrained and his legs bound together, but his head and torso were still free. They’d retrieved a mattress from one of the beds upstairs and laid him out on the lounge pool table to try and make him more comfortable. Sean was standing next to Ben, monitoring his breathing and heart rate. Nelson was asleep on the sofa. The officers had gone back outside to supervise the cleanup and security of the deck.

They’d hoped that the quick treatment of the wounds would save Ben but, as the clock ticked, they watched the infection take hold. The fever hit and Ben began to sweat profusely. The wounds turned dark then began streaking. Ben was coherent at first but as panic set in they gave him more morphine to relax. He slowly fell asleep, fading in and out of coherence.

“I’m thirsty, Chief,” Ben’s weakened voice rasped. He had been slipping in and out of consciousness, probably from the fever, but also the morphine.

“Here you go, buddy,” Sean said, putting a bottle to Ben’s lips.

Ben eagerly drank from the bottle before coughing and putting his head back down.

“Did the medicine work, Chief? Am I going to be okay?” he asked.

Sean looked down at Ben’s battered face. The scratches had begun to turn a deep purple, even though Brooks had soaked them with alcohol and packed antibiotic cream into them. The infection had still taken hold. Ben’s temperature had been rising at least one degree every thirty minutes. Sean looked across the room to Brooks, who was sorting through a box of medical supplies that had been scavenged from the platform’s infirmary.

“Yeah, you’re going to be fine. You just need some rest, okay?” Sean lied.

“Okay Chief,” Ben answered before turning his head to the side and closing his eyes.

Feeling Sean’s stare, Brooks took his attention from the box and frowned at Sean before shaking his head. Brooks went back to his task of sorting through the box, pulling items and stuffing them into his aid bag. Sean turned his attention back to the Marine, adjusting his sheets and trying to make him more comfortable.

Quickly Ben turned his head back towards him and struggled to sit up. “Chief!”

“Whoa relax, son. What is it, Ben?” Sean asked.

“Chief, please make sure I don’t turn into one of those things, please, Chief.”

“Don’t worry buddy, we’re going to take great care of you. Just get some rest now.”

Ben relaxed and once again turned his head to the side and closed his eyes.

“Brad, can you take over? I need to get some air,” Sean asked.

“Sure, I got it, Chief,” Brad said, leaving his place at the back of the lounge.

Brad looked Ben over. Ben was unconscious now and sweating profusely. The scratches on his face were darkening, the deep purple outline spreading. The wounds on his arm had been covered, but dark red and blue lines streaked up from the bandaged limb. It was obvious that Ben was now infected. There would be no saving him.

Sean walked over to Brooks and whispered something to him before he left the room.

“It’s too bad, bro,” Brad said as he used a damp cloth to cool Ben’s forehead.

“Too bad my ass! This was completely avoidable,” Brooks said. “No excuse for us losing this kid.”

“It is what it is, Brooks. We have to just keep moving forward,” Brad replied flatly.

Brooks shook his head, then pulled a large syringe from his aid bag and a couple of unmarked glass bottles. He drew the fluid from both bottles into the syringe and injected it into a vein on Ben’s good arm. He then secured the syringe in an empty water bottle before tossing it.

“Can you stay with him, Brad? I’m going to give his buddies an opportunity to say good bye; it won’t be long now … Be careful, I just gave him a dose big enough to kill a horse, but who knows how the virus works,” Brooks said.

Brad nodded as Brooks left the room. He put his hand on Ben’s chest and felt his labored breathing. It had been almost three hours since he had been attacked.

Brad heard the door swing open behind him. Swanson entered the room with Wilson and Craig. They were shaken but tried to hide it. There were no tears. The weeks of constant death and attacks had desensitized them to the agony of losing a friend.

“How is he?” Swanson asked.

“He only has a short time left. We gave him an overdose of diamorphine. He won’t wake up,” Brad answered.

“Good, he deserves to die a Marine and not as one of those things,” Wilson said.

Brad felt the movement of Ben’s chest stop; he slipped a hand to his wrist and couldn’t find a pulse. Cautiously they all stepped back from the table and waited for the reboot.

Brooks and Sean came into the room and joined them around the table. Wilson woke up from his nap and sat up, feeling the somberness of the room. Brad shook his head at Sean and Brooks. Brooks came forward and also checked Ben for a pulse. When he failed to find one he held his hand to Ben’s chest, then shook his head and moved back against the wall.

Sean came forward and removed Ben’s dog tags. He handed them to Swanson.

“This is what happens when we fuck up. We got lazy, we assumed the deck was secure, and we didn’t pay attention to the small details. This doesn’t happen again. Get your friend cleaned up and prepare him for burial. Our work day isn’t finished yet,” Sean said.

Sean placed his hand on Ben’s chest for a moment, then pulled the sheet gently over his head before stepping away and walking outside. After stopping to pat the sheet, Brad and Brooks followed Sean through the door.

Brooks and Brad followed Sean back to the control room, and found him standing below the hatch to the observation tower. The hatch dogs were securely in place, but there didn’t appear to be any physical lock to prevent them from opening it. Sean looked over to Brooks and nodded. Brooks raised his weapon and pointed at the hatch.

Sean carefully climbed the ladder to the top and began to un-dog the latches. They each freely opened with a slight metallic clang. The final latch clanged free and Sean looked back at Brooks and again nodded. He bent his legs and shoved the hatch up, throwing it open until it locked into place, then dropped back down the ladder and moved to the side to give Brooks a clear shot.

Brooks kept his weapon pointed at the now open compartment, trying to see inside. After a few tense moments, Sean drew his sidearm and again climbed the ladder. When he reached the top, he disappeared into the tube that led to the compartment. There was a large crash and a bang. The sound echoed down into the space below.

Brooks quickly jumped forward, grabbed the ladder and began to climb.

“Calm down … It’s okay … Dammit … I just banged my head. I’m fine, guys.” Sean yelled down.

Brooks looked down at Brad still standing on the deck. Brad tried to hold back but finally lost it and burst into laughter. Brooks couldn’t contain himself and gave out a large belly laugh.

“Glad you assholes think that’s funny, now get up here!” Sean yelled down the ladder.

They found themselves in a small square room. The walls angled up on each side and were topped with large tinted-glass windows. The wall was cased with a desk and workspace, which was topped with an assortment of radios and computers. Located high in the air just above the height of the helicopter pad, they had an expansive view of the platform.

“Do you know how to use this stuff?” Brad asked, pointing at the radios.

Sean reached down and picked up a handset. He powered up a radio and hit a scan button. “Looks like a basic setup, shouldn’t be too difficult to use,” he said.

The radio stopped its scan and they heard static and a broken noise. It was hard to tell if they were hearing just static or a garbled voice. Sean pressed the scan again, but it never stopped and looped back through to the garbled frequency.

“Mayday, mayday, mayday, any station,” Sean said into the handset. When he released the handset they heard the same garbled static.

“Sounds like there’s nothing out there, and whatever is on this station is probably high powered and blocking the freq. Let’s set up a radio watch; maybe we’ll get lucky,” Sean said.

Brad was looking through the drawers of the workspace and found a large, clothbound book. He opened it and looked inside. “Hey check this out. It’s a logbook,” he said as he flipped through the pages.

Sean and Brooks turned and leaned over the book. All of the entries were handwritten in dark ink. Brad turned through the entries page by page until, more than halfway through, the text changed. Instead of generic entries about dial readings and counters, there were more detailed journal entries.

“Look at the writing. Instead of operator entries, the platform manager has taken over the log,” Brad said.

Sean looked at the entry on the page and pointed at the number. “That was over thirty days ago; right about the time of the outbreak,” he said.

Moving his finger down the page, Brad found the first detailed entry and began reading.

Log Date 214:

First Officer J.C. Sharif Assumes the Log.

08:00 - The resupply ferry did not arrive. Men are angry and ready to return home. The satellite television is reporting news of riots and violence on the mainland. PAK-PETROL said they will give us detailed information later and reschedule the ferry.

17:00 - We were contacted by PAK-PETROL Corporate. Our resupply ferry has been delayed. Problem is at the mainline Karachi ferry station, described as mechanical in nature. They will notify us when the ferry is back online. The men doubt this as family members have relayed news to us of a pandemic hitting the mainland, people are getting sick. We think Corporate is keeping us in the dark so that we will keep working and not abandon the platform.

Log Date 215:

14:00 - Satellite TV is showing worldwide martial law in effect. People are rioting and attacking anyone. Citizens are warned to stay indoors, stay away from hospitals and avoid city streets. Corporate denies the reports and says news of violence is exaggerated; Corporate promised the ferry will be coming soon.

Log Date 216:

06:00 - We picked up radio traffic from the cargo ship ‘Chang’ this morning. Chang warned us to turn away any unknown vessels. They had spotted a ship dead in the water and boarded it. The crew of the disabled vessel attacked their boarding party. They sought help from the Coast Guard but were turned away and warned not to approach the coastal waters.

10:00 - We have halted production as our storage containers are now full.