threaten to go public. Maybe Cage has a plan. He always seems to, anyway. Ah-ha.”
Greg punched the right button and slipped the keycard through the slot. The keypad turned red, indicating that it was locked down. It would keep the zombies out and maybe Dark Ops personnel if their luck held out. At least it would give them some kind of warning if someone was trying to get in. They began walking again.
“I don't like it,” Kyra said as they headed for the other third and final entrance. “Not having a plan. I've always had a plan, at least, well, mostly. That needs to be something we figure out before we escape.”
“ We will,” Greg promised. “For right now, how about we worry about escaping, or at the very least, staying alive.”
Kyra seemed unsatisfied, but nodded and fell silent. They came to the final exit and locked it down, then met with Billings in front of one of the cell doors.
“Try to seem as non-threatening as possible,” Greg said.
“ Isn't there a way to see inside?” Kyra asked. “Might be a good idea to look in and let them know they're not going to die, you know?”
“ Yeah...hold on.”
Greg fiddled with the simple control panel by the door and, after a moment, found the button that turned a portion of the door transparent and hit it. Peering into the cell, he spied a thin man in a blue jumpsuit lying on his cot with his hands behind his head, staring up at nothing in particular. He seemed very calm.
“Hey,” Greg said. There was no reaction. He sighed and hunted for another moment, finally finding the button that activated the intercom.
“ Hey, you in there.”
The man looked over. A look of confusion passed across his face, and then he stood and crossed the small cell.
“Hello?” He looked and sounded confused. “Who are you?”
“ My name's Greg. Look, everything has gone to hell here. I'm going to let you out. The Undead have broken out and the soldiers are trying to contain it.”
“ Oh, good. I had hoped something like this would occur.”
Greg opened the door. Now that he studied the blue jumpsuit, he recognized it as an SI technician's get-up.
“I'm Park.” The man offered his hand.
Greg shook it. “Glad to have you. We're going to free more prisoners. Can you handle a sidearm?”
“Yes. I can. I was trained.” His tone sounded injured, as though the question insulted him. Greg passed off one of the two pistols he currently had on him, tucked into the back of his pants, as well as a pair of magazines.
“ Keep an eye out.”
Park nodded. They moved on to the second cell and repeated the process, this time finding a burly man in a gray mining outfit who paced his cell like a caged beast. He took more convincing, but when Greg finally opened up his cell, the man stepped out, saw that they were armed, and that they were not members of Dark Ops.
“What the fuck is going on?” he asked.
“ It's a long story but there are zombies loose. My name is Greg. We need-”
The man let out a sharp bark of pain and grabbed at his wrist. Greg jumped back, surprised by this sudden event.
“Oh God! Oh fuck !” the miner screamed, clawing at his wrist.
Abruptly, he went limp, collapsed to the deck, and shook, stuck in the throes of a violent seizure. Greg had no idea what to do, or what was happening. He felt unable to move, frozen by this display. The man foamed at the mouth, his head shaking back and forth violently, foamy spittle and blood flying everywhere.
Without warning, he froze up and stopped moving. Greg, wide-eyed, his hands trembling, stepped forward and knelt by the fresh corpse. He reached out, hesitated, and then gripped the man's left hand, bringing it up. The limp right hand fell away and where he had been gripping, at the base of the left wrist, where all the veins met, there was a small lump and an ugly black spot. Slowly, Greg let the hand back down.
“ What the fuck was that all about?” Billings whispered, fear cracking his voice.
“ I
Greg punched the right button and slipped the keycard through the slot. The keypad turned red, indicating that it was locked down. It would keep the zombies out and maybe Dark Ops personnel if their luck held out. At least it would give them some kind of warning if someone was trying to get in. They began walking again.
“I don't like it,” Kyra said as they headed for the other third and final entrance. “Not having a plan. I've always had a plan, at least, well, mostly. That needs to be something we figure out before we escape.”
“ We will,” Greg promised. “For right now, how about we worry about escaping, or at the very least, staying alive.”
Kyra seemed unsatisfied, but nodded and fell silent. They came to the final exit and locked it down, then met with Billings in front of one of the cell doors.
“Try to seem as non-threatening as possible,” Greg said.
“ Isn't there a way to see inside?” Kyra asked. “Might be a good idea to look in and let them know they're not going to die, you know?”
“ Yeah...hold on.”
Greg fiddled with the simple control panel by the door and, after a moment, found the button that turned a portion of the door transparent and hit it. Peering into the cell, he spied a thin man in a blue jumpsuit lying on his cot with his hands behind his head, staring up at nothing in particular. He seemed very calm.
“Hey,” Greg said. There was no reaction. He sighed and hunted for another moment, finally finding the button that activated the intercom.
“ Hey, you in there.”
The man looked over. A look of confusion passed across his face, and then he stood and crossed the small cell.
“Hello?” He looked and sounded confused. “Who are you?”
“ My name's Greg. Look, everything has gone to hell here. I'm going to let you out. The Undead have broken out and the soldiers are trying to contain it.”
“ Oh, good. I had hoped something like this would occur.”
Greg opened the door. Now that he studied the blue jumpsuit, he recognized it as an SI technician's get-up.
“I'm Park.” The man offered his hand.
Greg shook it. “Glad to have you. We're going to free more prisoners. Can you handle a sidearm?”
“Yes. I can. I was trained.” His tone sounded injured, as though the question insulted him. Greg passed off one of the two pistols he currently had on him, tucked into the back of his pants, as well as a pair of magazines.
“ Keep an eye out.”
Park nodded. They moved on to the second cell and repeated the process, this time finding a burly man in a gray mining outfit who paced his cell like a caged beast. He took more convincing, but when Greg finally opened up his cell, the man stepped out, saw that they were armed, and that they were not members of Dark Ops.
“What the fuck is going on?” he asked.
“ It's a long story but there are zombies loose. My name is Greg. We need-”
The man let out a sharp bark of pain and grabbed at his wrist. Greg jumped back, surprised by this sudden event.
“Oh God! Oh fuck !” the miner screamed, clawing at his wrist.
Abruptly, he went limp, collapsed to the deck, and shook, stuck in the throes of a violent seizure. Greg had no idea what to do, or what was happening. He felt unable to move, frozen by this display. The man foamed at the mouth, his head shaking back and forth violently, foamy spittle and blood flying everywhere.
Without warning, he froze up and stopped moving. Greg, wide-eyed, his hands trembling, stepped forward and knelt by the fresh corpse. He reached out, hesitated, and then gripped the man's left hand, bringing it up. The limp right hand fell away and where he had been gripping, at the base of the left wrist, where all the veins met, there was a small lump and an ugly black spot. Slowly, Greg let the hand back down.
“ What the fuck was that all about?” Billings whispered, fear cracking his voice.
“ I
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