Karl’s body slumped back to the sofa. His eyes flicking open, then looking left then right. “Where am I?”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Patient 2505b’s world was green. Lime green to be precise, and within it he floated as if he weighed the same as a feather. He was vaguely aware that there were tubes attached to his arms and legs. Plastic channels through which liquid flowed, although he wasn’t sure if it was from or into his body. He didn’t care. For within his mind was a vision of heaven, or something that Noah Johnson would regard as such. He was on the court, even at the age of fourteen standing at six-two and his father was pressing his back, trying to snatch the ball. But he was too good, his pivot too quick, and he spun around the forty something man for the perfect lay up.

  Stephen Johnson frowned as the young Noah laughed, asking to go again. So they did. Patient 2505b smiled, or tried to. The pipe which was down his throat prevented the expression, but in his mind he was replaying the moment again, from eight years prior, when his father was still alive.

  On the outside of the huge polymer tank, Randall Jenkins nodded at the results on the computer monitor. He looked at the women by his side. Her name tag mentioned ‘Dr. Susan Knowles.’

  “This one has promise,” he said. “Heart beat strong. Electrolytes within range.”

  She nodded. “Good, because we’re running out of time. Phase four is almost upon us and the council will not wait forever before implementing phase five. We can’t fail.”

  “There is… patient 1209x…”

  She looked at him, her feature’s tightening. “He can never be released.” She looked back to the capsule shaped vessel. “Hell doesn’t need a king.”

  He nodded, letting out a sigh. “I understand there was trouble on the surface?”

  She looked at the man floating in the green liquid. “His former colleagues made an attempt to rescue him.”

  “Hm.”

  “A number died in the attempt.”

  He looked at her, shocked. “Are they within the grounds?”

  She shook her head. “All burning.”

  Another sigh came from the slightly older man. “What if they try again. Bring more people?”

  The woman leaned forward on the desk. “Like I said. We’re running out of time.”

  *****

  Todd shivered. His hand was on top of Cash’s fur, by his side. Not that he could see that because they had turned off the light in the room. The old dog was shivering too. He had decided that first chance he got on the surface he was going to leave the dog somewhere. Helpfully Cash would find his own way in the new world. Otherwise he didn’t want to think what August would do with the animal, once they got what they needed from him.

  He let out a long breath, being sure he could see the white mist within the dark. The pain in his eye was returning. Time for another painkiller, but instead of taking one from the small bottle in his jacket pocket, he stayed his hand. He didn’t see much point in subduing the throbbing that was building to the left of his eye, or the rising burning in his waist. No point at all.

  He had no intention of helping August find the family. Whatever they were and however the two people, five feet away from him, died, they still deserved to live. That much he was certain of. He was also certain that the firefighter and the scientist’s death, was on him. He brought the vampire mother and daughter into August’s domain. Almost as if he vouched for them. People trusted him, so they trusted them.

  And he knew. He knew Evelyn and her daughter had become a threat. In his bones he knew there was a deep, primal threat from these altered people, and yet he didn’t want to believe it. He wanted to believe that the world hadn’t really ended and that an attorney from the South Loop and her kids were going to be the hope for the future. Maybe his future. That hope had gotten two good people killed. He had seen the same during his tours. His CO used to say ‘Hope is no replacement for common sense.’

  So when the knock came on the door, he would pick up his small dog, make his way to the surface with the others, let Cash go and then tell August to go screw himself.

  At least that was a—

  Todd jolted back against the wall, waking Cash. A rasping noise was coming from within the dark. From across the room where the dead were resting.

  Cash growled.

  Todd wanted to tell his canine friend that there was no reason for the hostility. That they were the only two beings alive in the small room. That they were safe for now. But the sentiment caught in his throat, held hostage by the fear that it was a lie. That they weren’t alone anymore.

  A scraping noise drifted across the small space. Something was moving. Then came cracking. Todd knew what the sound meant. But refused to accept it. It was the sound of a head, righting itself. It was the sound of an arm pulling itself free from dried blood.

  He wanted to move but couldn’t.

  She’s dead… they’re both…

  The sounds he was hearing, were laughing at his certainty. Tearing at what sanity still resided within his mind.

  Cash barked, snapping him out of his fear and he sprang to his feet, moving to the left wall, almost falling over the small bed there then kept going until he was standing in front of the door. The slither of glow from the corridor light was a beacon that he clung to, as the noise—

  A groan filled the room. The sound of death, but within it was a word.

  “Help…”

  In an instant his terror switched to confusion. He strained to see anything with the rich void. “Morgan?”

  “Help…”

  Cash barked again and he slammed a fist into the door. “Open up!” He flicked back to his right. “Morgan? Can you hear me? It’s Todd!”

  A giggle, rippled across the room and with it terror returned to Todd’s heart. He had heard the same cackling within his—

  “Todd, Todd, Todd, Todd, Todd, Todd, Todd.”

  His hits on the door were now constant and loud. “She’s awake! She’s—”

  A vice like grip, grabbed his ankle, nails sinking into his flesh. He jumped back and with it the door flew open. Light swarmed inside, momentarily blinding him. He threw his arms out, locating the door frame and propelled himself into the open space, then spun around, as Cash’s barks increased in volume. Within his watery sight, two figures were fighting. Someone was shouting, then booms which rang in his ears.

  Angel came from the room, blood oozing from a slice across her hand and cheek. She grabbed Todd, pushing a large knife into his hand. “You’re needed!”

  He ducked back in the room. Wincing at what was left of Morgan’s head, then looked at the small dog. “Got to keep you in here, pal.”

  The dog barked again and he closed the door.

  “Come on!” shouted Angel, standing near the door to the cellars.

  They ran inside, along the tunnel, then promptly stopped before getting to the top of the steps. Ramses, Callum and August were shoulder to shoulder, hacking, slicing and then pulling back and firing at what existed at the edge of the darkness.

  “I’m out!” shouted Callum, who drove the butt of his gun down on the head which emerged from the void. It fell back, but was replaced with another which lunged forward, snapping down on his forearm. He screamed in agony, desperately fighting to pull the thing from him.

  Todd ran forward, and plunged his knife into the thing’s skull, causing it to let go.

  August fired off two shots, both hitting a thing that was once a middle-aged man, and both not having any effect to slow its forward motion towards him. A hand lunged forward grabbing August by his throat, lifting him upwards.

  Ramses shoulder charged the vamp, smashing it backwards, but couldn’t stop his momentum and was sucked into the mass of bodies which enveloped him.

  “No!” screamed Angel, running forward, but Todd beat her to it and dived into darkness, slashing his blade, left then right, up and across, each swipe being followed by a roar or screech and blood flowed. Theirs or his own he had no mind to know. Someone else was fighting lower down. A figure crashed into him, almost knocking him off the steps, but he managed to keep his footing and together, he and Ramses ascended, fighting the claws and teeth which continually snapped at them.

  They ran the final steps back to the others. Callum was holding this arm, August his throat.

  “We’re leaving!” shouted Angel.

  “No…” said August, his voice barely a whisper.

  Something lunged from the darkness, barely missing Todd’s face. He pivoted, slamming his knife into its back, Ramses doing the same to its head. It slumped to the ground.

  “If we stay, we die!” she shouted. This time August nodded.

  Ramses lifted him up, Todd doing the same with Callum. They scrambled into the corridor, closing then bolting the door behind, which immediately shuddered.

  As the others ran to the SUV, Todd pushed open the door to the small room, letting Cash free and quickly caught up, jumping in the back with him.

  The elevator door slid back, and Ramses drove them into it.

  Todd’s body was screaming in pain. He looked across his jacket and the series of frayed holes, dyed red with blood. He wanted to ask for help. But it didn’t matter.

  As they arrived at the ground floor of the parking garage, and the SUV surged up the ramps and then out into the street. Todd gave into the darkness.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  “Maybe a year from now, you’ll be ready for the scholarship,” said Stephen Johnson.

  His son frowned.

  Stephen patted Noah’s head. “Hey. You just got to train. And I’ll be here with you, every—”

  The birds in the nearby tree took to the air, drawing Noah’s attention to the sky. He looked back to the oily red liquid pouring out of the small hole in the center of his father’s forehead and screamed…

  Bright lights… Too bright… Can’t… breath... What… What is that sound…

  Someone was standing over him. A woman in a white lab coat. He croaked some words which were meant to be ‘Morgan’ but where nonsensical to anyone else.

  She was still talking. Shouting even to be heard over the repeating wailing. A siren maybe. Noah looked past her, to the strange set of cables which crossed the low ceiling, then to the large window where the red light was—

  “Noah!” Susan Knowles shouted, this time catching his attention.

  As if he suddenly realized where he was, he pushed her away, falling from the gurney, but landed like a cat. He stood in a blink of an eye, which made his head spin. The woman was shouting again. Why was she so angry at him?

  “Noah? Can you understand me?”

  He held onto the gurney with one hand, his legs lacking the strength to hold him upright. He nodded, then looked down. He was naked from the waist up, and his bottom half only consisted of a pair of running shorts, which were covered in a green liquid of some kind.

  The woman stepped closer. Too close, he flicked an instinctual hand out, catching her in the shoulder and sent her careening into the far wall, where she hit with a solid thud and dropped in pain to the floor.

  Startled, he looked at his hand, then to the woman. “Shit… sorry… I didn’t… ” He looked around again. “Where am I?”

  As a trickle of blood crept down her temple, she awkwardly got to her feet. “In an underground facility about twenty-miles west of the city of Chicago.”

  Memories began to flood back in for him and with them came anger. He walked towards her to which she held up a hand.

  She flicked her head to the door behind, at the end of the room. “They’re coming!” Her words were laced with desperate fear.

  He stopped, being confused at her comment. “What? Who’s coming?” He looked left and right, along what appeared to be a hospital ward minus any windows.

  “Phase four… it’s begun. You have to go. You have to leave.” She stepped closer to him, her wide bloodshot eyes making him back off slightly. “We did our best. But we didn’t have long enough. Now it’s up to you.”

  Confusion returned to him. “Lady. What the hell are you talking about?”

  “Find others like you. Find your friends. They tried to rescue you. We… we had to stop—”

  He had her by her throat, her entirety held aloft a foot off the ground. He wondered why she was so light, but that didn’t matter because it was all he could do to suppress his anger and not snap her neck. “What did you do to them?” he shouted, then realized it was the wrong question. “What do you mean, you did your best? What does that even—”

  A groan came from his left. A hand swiped at his side, impacting with enough force to push the air from his lungs. He fell back, as more hands lunged at him, these came with nails that scratched across his arm. A burning sensation came with a spray of blood. He fell back again, as bodies flooded into the narrow space, scrambling over gurneys, pulling the curtains from their rails. Pale blue faces with dark eyes. The woman was gone, or dead he wasn’t sure, but he had to leave or die at the hands of the things that were scrambling towards him.

  He spun away grabbing at an office desk to pull it towards him but instead it came away from the wall as if it were made from balsa wood. With a flick of his wrist it flew through the air, crashing into the swarming mass of dead…

  A voice that had been shouting at the back of his mind, suddenly couldn’t be ignored. Those that were coming at him, had injuries, some that wouldn’t allow their bodies to function. Missing arms, chunks torn from skulls. These vamps were… deceased.

  The insanity of that notion, almost made him not see one of them lunge over the smashed desk, her swipe inches from catching his leg. He turned and ran to the door, pulling it—

  A figure bathed in red from the flashing security light in the corridor, thrust a hand across Noah’s face. Nails sliced his skin, spinning his head. He crashed into the frame, splintering the wood, but to his amazement his was still conscious. He ducked, avoiding a second attack, and punched as hard as he could into the midriff of the man in body armor. His fist was through the intestines then spine before he realized he had driven a hole through him. He wanted to puke, instead he pulled his hand free, pushing the body to the ground, then began to run…

  He stopped. Turning around. The thing on the ground, its face covered with a full helmet was trying to stand. Noah shook his head. The madness was beginning to take its toil. He wondered if the images he had been shown, the tests these crazy scientists had done to him had broken his mind. That right now, he was actually in a white padded—

  Hands and limbs spewed from the door to his left, one of which knocked him into the opposite wall. He kicked and punched as they tried to get purchase on his arm, then ran as fast as his legs would carry him to the door at the far end. Miss-judging his own velocity he slammed into it, buckling the metal partition, the hinges giving way and he and the door fell into the stairwell.

  He charged up the stairs. But his legs felt weak again, and he fell on one knee. His mind began to swim, the confined space spinning. He thew up, green liquid painting the white steps, then stood again.

  A hand grabbed his ankle. He spun around, kicking at a face with no eyes. It was one of many faces, the stairwell full of bodies trying to pull him down into the abyss. Panic flowed through his body and mind. He punched and kicked again, giving himself just enough freedom to push down on a step, to grab a bannister and he ascended to the next level, and again, not looking back, not knowing where he was going.

  He arrived at a landing with no more upward steps, and pulled at a gray metal door. There was a cracking sound and the handle came away in his hand, the door still standing. Swearing to himself, he looked back down the stairs. The things were clambering over each other and the steps. A rising wave he would soon drown in.

  He turned to the door, took a step back and rammed his shoulder into the few inches of metal which sunk inwards. The stairwell filled with groans, a deafening symphony that was almost too much to bare. The sound prompted a frantic barrage of kicks and the door flew outwards.

  He scrambled forward, into the red lit corridor, past bodies which moved and quivered despite the damage done to them and skidded to a stop at a door marked ‘Exit’ which was open.

  Fires burned in the darkness. He didn’t know why, but he was glad it was night. Noah Johnson took one last look back and ran outside.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  Felix Zimmerman could hear them beyond the steel reinforced door to his cell. Their rage and desperation seeped through the walls, like sap from a tree. And he loved the aroma it filled the air with. Just as he savored the dread which had consumed the others, as they ran for their lives. The ones that changed him. Allowing him to take his new form.

  And for the prize of his newfound identity, newfound freedom, he had thanked them in return. Putting an end to their pitiful existences. They would never see the world as he did. How could they? How could anyone? So instead he would act with kindness. Allowing them to ascend to a higher plane. He was a merciful god.

  He pressed his ear against the door, feeling the screams and groans reverberating through the cold metal and closed his eyes with a smile, imagining the carnage that was only a short distance away.

  At the beginning of his incarceration he was content. At peace with being discarded by his creators. That was his fate and he accepted it. But then the dreams began. For some nightmares, but to him, the visions of destruction were merely an invitation. A message in a bottle which told him he was meant for greatness. They told him, his life had a point. He wasn’t a lab experiment gone wrong.

  He was to create the world anew. He would lead the worthy into the garden.

  When the sirens started to wail across the compound, he knew his destiny would began today.

  Patient 1209x walked to the opposite side of the cell and punched the concrete, causing a puff of white dust. Then, again, this time a small crater appeared. And again, each repeated impact, digging him deeper. A crack appeared, running the length of the wall, then another. A spider’s web of intricate lines were carving up the barrier between him and the outside world. He thrust his fist forward causing a large chunk to drop with a crash by his feet and with it came the smell of fresh air. He waited for a brief moment, letting the cool breeze wash over him. Wash away what was left of the special forces operator that enthusiastically signed up for a secret program, some four years earlier. Wash away the pain that drove him to suicide on multiple occasions. Wash away Felix Zimmerman.