Reset: A Post-Apocalyptic Sci-Fi Fantasy (Contaminant Series Book 1) (7 page)

She promptly complied.  The soldier was bucking, trying to get Peter off of him, but the older man stayed true and fixed.   Michael followed suit, plopping on the other soldier.  Jenna grabbed his handgun, but it took both Anna and Michael beating the soldier to pry away his weapon and not get shot.

 They waited until the next wave of desperate people was nearly upon them to make a break for it, leaving the soldiers in the midst of the crowd.  They sprinted down the corridor looking for anyway to escape.  After rounding the next corner and still no exit, Peter stopped at a row of windows and raised his weapon.  Anna, Michael, and Jenna did same and together, they shot out the windows.  Ducking out the self-made exit and they ran diagonally from the building, followed by others.

***

Two civilian helicopters sat at the back of a parking lot.  John, one of the pilots, had just recently returned from relieving himself when he climbed up in his bird and plopped in the seat.

People burst through the doors scaring him half to death.

“Are you guys here to unload finally?  I need to see your authoriz…” These people were climbing in!

John looked over his shoulder, “This is not that kind of transport.”

The older man looked at him, “We need to leave.  NOW!”

John turned all the way around in his seat, “Not a chance” he scoffed, “Now get out.”  John had reached for his firearm and was prepared to shoot when Peter leaned forward and pointed out the window.

John followed the crooked finger to the mob of people that was headed right for him.  He looked at Peter and the rest of the people in the cab.  In no time, he had straightened up in the seat, flipping switches and hitting buttons.

“I’ll get you out but that’s it.” The rotary blades had already started up.

“Thank you.  Thank you.”  Peter’s out of breath thanks were joined by several others.

John radioed to his partner, “Avery, if you can hear me, there’s a mob coming.  Get out.  GET OUT!”  Shots rang out, busting out the co-pilot window, the bullets whizzing by John’s face.  He never lost concentration as he continued to prep for lift off.  The next few seconds could have been in slow motion as the mob came up on the helicopter.

Peter, Anna, Jenna, and Michael made it to the helicopter along with 3 others who Michael didn’t recognize.  One of them, a woman, was going into nervous shock, tears streaming down her face.  She held her ears and screamed.

More gunfire punctured the whirlybird.  Anna and Michael returned fire wildly but the mob didn’t disperse at all.

 Single shots from a handgun could be heard above the roar of the mob.  One of the men, who had climbed in after Michael, had been pressing himself against the wall when he let out a high pitched shriek and fell to the floor, landing near his own severed finger. 

The blades started to make a familiar WHOMP! WHOMP! WHOMP! WHOMP! sound, moving faster and faster, getting up to takeoff speed.

John lightly pulled up on the throttle.  Someone ran up on the door, throwing himself in.  Just as soon as he entered, the other new face in the cab grabbed him and threw him out like he was taking out the garbage.  Soon afterwards, the door was filled faces trying to grab on to anything.  Anna was trying to keep as many out as she could without being snatched out herself.  She was kicking at the heads and when one face fell, another took its place. 

Others had come around the back.  The helicopter started to rise, creating a shaky balance.  Michael pushed one of them back and out of the bird.  It didn’t take much.  The man fell backwards out of the helicopter, but at the last minute, doubled over and grabbed the floor, hanging on.  Jenna and the other tag-along had kicked two more people out while Michael was bent over, pulling up the fingers of the one man hanging on. 

The helicopter was surrounded with people and it was all that John could do to hover, turning around in circles, knocking over some people.  Michael looked back at Anna who gave him a stern look.  The same one she first gave Peter about
him
.  She turned quickly to Peter as did Michael.  He lay slumped against the wall of the helicopter, a red stain growing on his dingy shirt.  Peter only looked at the fingers, nodding his head.  Michael gave a resigned sigh, but when he went back to those fingers, he stomped them until they disappeared.

John zigzagged with his helicopter as he hovered, eventually lifting further off the ground, climbing into the sky.   Anna stripped off her belt and demanded Michael’s shirt.  He took it off without question, balled it up and stuffed it where the blood was on Peter.  They could hear shooting start up again.  The second helicopter couldn’t get off the ground before it swarmed with desperate people. 

Peter groaned as Michael pressed hard against his wound.  Anna wrapped her belt around Peter and the shirt and turned the buckle to the middle of his chest.  She pulled hard enough to cause Peter to sputter before forcing a new hole to lock the belt in place. 

The unfamiliar woman had given up her over-shirt to the man who had been shot in the hand, wrapping it for him and tying it tight.  He was straining to not cry and his spittle was dribbling down his chin.

John flew a few minutes before signaling for someone to put on the headset.  Michael reached for the one by his seat.

John’s voice came through like a transmission, “We’re carrying a lot of weight, and I still need to return to where I gotta go.  Where do you want me to drop you?”

Michael said, “Just a minute, can you give us some time to-to… figure that out?”

John voice crackled over the headset, “You got five minutes.”

Chapter Eight

It was a little over two and half hours before the helicopter landed on the lawn of a mansion in Missouri.  They lucked out that the pilot was headed that way and could spare the fuel, even though he didn’t want to.  He
was
going to leave them only a few miles outside of Omaha but Michael haggled with him mercilessly, pointing to the scientists as the last source of hope. 

As soon as the helicopter touched down, Anna was out of the helicopter dragging Peter with her.  She commanded someone, anyone, to grab his legs as she struggled to rush him toward the entrance. 

The only other woman to make it out of Omaha, besides Anna and Jenna, was Tessa.  She was a homely, handsome woman, not even forty years of age.  She had strong arms and hands, but not rough like someone who worked in construction.  They were more like gardener’s hands.  Michael had gotten a brief introduction on the plane.  She was actually a veterinarian.  She took up Anna’s cause helping to get Peter to the entrance.

Bruce was the man who had been shot in the hand while trying to stay out of harm’s way.  He didn’t say much for the duration of the ride, but instead, held his hurt hand like something too precious and too delicate, periodically bursting into silently sobs.  He had finally stopped crying by the time they landed.  

Michael looked at John, “Thank you.” He stuck his hand out for a shake.  He was met with a squared jaw and ice cold stare before John lifted off and climbed into the sky.

Michael shook his head as the bird departed.

The mansion door was locked, so an entrance was made of the window.  Everyone had expected an alarm loud enough to bring more trouble.  But there was none.  James was the only other man besides Michael who wasn’t hurt, so he climbed in and a few moments later, door opened.  It took four of them to bring Peter inside and lift him onto the island in the middle of the kitchen. 

“I’ll see if I can find something we can use.”  Tessa darted off; when she returned, she had a couple first aid kits. 

James had dug through several cabinets and came up with a bottle of whiskey.

After scrubbing their hands and drying them on the kitchen towel, Anna and Tessa held their hands out over the sink as James poured on the whiskey.  They went to work, removing the makeshift tourniquet and rags.  The bleeding started up at a trickle, slowly increasing.  Peter’s head was flopping back and forth and Jenna lifted up his eyelids one at a time.

“He’s gone into shock.”

Anna grabbed the scalpel and James doused it, “We’ve got to get that bullet out.”  But instead, she stood, for a moment, looking at Peter, “Just hold on…” She whispered.

Tessa reached for the scalpel and Anna nodded enthusiastically, letting it go easily.  She went to stand over Peter’s head with her hands on his shoulders, ready to hold him down while James stood alert at his feet.

Tessa steadied her hand over the entry wound and looked Anna in the eye, “One, Two, Three!”

***

Bruce waited on a couch for his turn, rocking himself, holding his hand, and stifling a cry.  Michael looked in on several rooms on the ground level before he came out with an iron.  He placed it on a desk in the left corner of the room and plugged it in.  From the kitchen, they could hear Tessa yell ‘three’ and shortly after that, Peter shrieking.  Michael crept to the doorway to see Peter convulsing from the pain and trying to get up.  Anna redoubled her efforts to hold him down successfully.  Tessa called out, “I’m going after the bullet now!”

Bruce spit up on his shirt.  Jenna sat with him to keep him calm and keep him company.  Michael checked in a few more areas for anything that they could use.  As he made his rounds, he glanced at pictures hanging on the wall or sitting on shelves.  John Gordman wore a smile in most of the photos.  His eyes twinkled and his smile was more mischievous than anything.  Michael felt strange that they were helping themselves to his home… but not that strange.  The whole world knew where he lived and he had just recently died.  The place should have been ransacked immediately but it wasn’t.  It was the best place for them to be, away from crowds and mobs and soldiers.

Michael had argued on the helicopter that Gordman
had
to have a lab of some kind. The pantry even had food, though there were more dehydrated goods than a food bank.  There was, mostly no electricity, but he did find some candles.

Electricity kept time on the clocks that were built into the walls of the living room, kitchen and each of the bedrooms.  Michael poked around here and there ending up at the basement door.  He opened the door and was greeted with darkness on a string.  Michael grabbed it and pulled out of habit, triggering a light to turn on.  He didn’t exactly understand how the backup electricity was wired, but at least it worked in the basement.

That was one of two lights that worked and the second light was near the bottom of the stairs which were basically at the bottom of a pit.  If there was going to be a lab somewhere, in the basement surrounded by earth was the way to do it.  Fear was already working its way into Michael’s throat, but he kept looking because old men with a lot of money can afford to be creative.  That’s what John Gordman told
him
when they met.

At the bottom of the staircase, a door stood, waiting.  Michael knocked on it.  It appeared to be wood and even sounded like it.  His right hand reached to jiggle the handle but before he touched it, static electricity that he could
see
jumped out at him.  The shock stung to the bone and throughout his forearm, causing his hand to fly back in his face.  It was quite the sting, but he didn’t die.  In fact, he heard the distinct clicking of a locking mechanism.

Michael swatted at the door knob like a kitten with a string.  He didn’t receive another shock… so he went forward.  He turned the knob and opened the door.  It slid open with minor effort.  Looking at the sides, it actually was a metal door that was two feet thick.  The wood on the outside was a just ploy.  Michael went to pull the door shut.  It was much easier than opening.  He walked forward cautiously.  The next area was an eerie urine-colored hue.  The corridor appeared to be some sort of steel pipe, at least ten feet in diameter.  The walls were a dull yellow, probably because of the emergency lights that were strung up every couple feet.  The real problem was the black stripes all the way around the tunnel that created an illusion of swirling as he walked on.

Michael tried not to look at the stripes, but they were everywhere, swirling deeper into the tunnel.  The emergency lights must have been motion-sensored, because as he walked on, a light near him would turn on, but the furthest one from him would turn off.  With the swirls, it looked like Michael was traveling to nothingness.  He sure did think of turning back, but he didn’t.  He didn’t want to.  The curiosity was too great.  So, he pressed on till the end of the tunnel and found himself staring down a clear, upright, tube-encased area with an entrance and an exit.

The sides of the tube were two feet of thick fiberglass.  An equally thick heavy metal arm encased each half circle of the tube and the two metal pieces met at the dome of the tube. Through other side of the tube, only a heavy blackness showed.  Michael stepped through the doorway.  He looked around and his eyes found a sticker that had a stick figure man with his hands in the air.  The next frame showed him pressing a button.  Michael raised his hands in the air and looked up.  Sure enough, there was a button; it was gray.  And with a press, the metal arms which contoured to the tube detached just enough to spin around the entire structure several times.

It must have been satisfied because after the arms returned to their original position, a light came on.  Instantly, the darkness dispersed, revealing a door that opened upon Michael’s apparent, approved status.

He entered.  This new compartment was nothing like the previous one.  The lighting was brighter and felt cleaner, like four o’clock in the evening, and it wasn’t yellow.  Further past the initial area, several workstations existed with desktop computers and beyond that was a living room and exercise area.

The living room had a single door that lead to a room that was mostly empty.  It had a wide open space with giant circular tubes, tires and a raised up observation box, full of controls and knobs. The tubes sat upright and were connected to more tubes and wires that ultimately connected to a hydrogen tank.