Last Hope, Book One: Onslaught by Drew Brown Page A

suffering, and it echoed along the pitch-black hallway.
    Budd stepped out of the elevator and looked around. There was no one to be seen, but the scream continued.
    A few feet away, an axe rested on the carpet. Its head was coated with a dark liquid. Budd picked it up and examined the stain in the elevator’s light.
    Blood.
    With practiced ease, he ran his free hand up the long, red-painted wooden shaft, studying the weight of the tool, getting a feel for it.
     
    Now that I had my hands on the fire axe, I didn’t want to let go.
    Who knew what I’d have to chop down?
    Mind you, if I had known, I’d have wanted a much, much bigger one. And someone else to swing it…
     
    The scream ebbed away.
    “Hello?” Budd called out. He stepped back towards the elevator with the axe held tightly.
    There was no reply. “Hello?” Budd tried again.
    “What should we do, Monsieur Ashby?”
    “We get help,” Budd answered. He nudged Juliette back into the elevator, hit the control panel button for the main floor, and waited for the doors to close.
    It took several seconds before they did. When they were only a few inches apart, a hand appeared on the other side, reaching into the elevator. The fingers dripped with a thick, congealed liquid. Behind the hand was a man’s face, contorted and angry. A groan spilled from his open mouth.
    Juliette screamed, but before Budd could react the scene vanished, obscured by the doors as they thudded closed.
    The bell chimed and they continued down.
     
     
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    “Who was that man?”
    Lacking an answer, Budd made no reply. He merely looked up to the display and willed them to reach the reception area faster.
     
    To say I had the heebie-jeebies would’ve been an understatement. I had no way of knowing what I’d just seen. As far as I could tell, he could’ve been a raving lunatic, or maybe just someone who was very, very ill.
    Either way, the coward in me didn’t need to know more. I’ve never been a “people person,” and I wasn’t ’bout to start with the sick.
    Or the crazy…
     
    By the time they reached the ground floor, Budd had shuffled in front of Juliette, positioning himself between her and the doors. He wanted to escape. He adjusted his hold on the axe shaft so that he could swing it two-handed.
    The doors opened to show that the reception area was well lit by natural means, with the large windows at the front allowing the dawn to fill the room.
    Budd poked his head out and looked around. The large foyer was quiet and still. Nothing living occupied the space. There were, however, lots of bodies, those of guests and workers, strewn around the black and white floor tiles. Cautiously, Budd dragged Stephen Doring’s corpse between the doors.
     
    Don’t get me wrong; I didn’t wanna go back up. No way, Jose! But I wanted to keep my options open…
     
    “What has happened?”
    “I’m a Chinese oracle, not a doctor. Remember?”
    “Are they all dead?”
    “Either that, or they do really bad-taste impressions.”
    “This is no time for jokes, Monsieur Ashby. How are you coping with this?”
     
    Coping? Ha!
    I wasn’t coping, I was in denial and I was running. How should I know what was happening? It was like nothing I’d ever heard of.
    I just wanted to get the hell out of Dodge…
     
    “Right,” Budd said, starting towards the Tropical Walkway, “I have a car down in the basement; I think we should get outta here. The further away we are from this place, the better.”
    “What about that man upstairs? Maybe he needs our help, Monsieur Ashby. Should we go back?”
    “Sweetheart, he’s either sick or he’s a nut, and either way we’re better off without him. If he’s sick, we could risk catching whatever has done this to everyone else. And if he’s crazy, well… I’ll tell you what, once we’re away from here, we’ll find help and have someone come back and poke around? Yeah?”
    “Perhaps you are right, Monsieur Ashby.”
    “I’m right, sugar. Come