Chapter 11
"Well, this level consist of five floors," said Al, the Umbrella scientist as he rubbed the red spot on his head. "We're in the R&D sector… unfortunately."
The blow on his head had temporarily fazed him, and it took him a second to grasp his bearings on where he was. The scientist shook slightly, his eyes darting back in forth in the room.
"What do you mean unfortunately? It has to be better than being up there with about a hundred of those things!" said one of the soldiers in the room.
"No—NO. I'd much rather be up at the surface, where we actually have a chance! You don't know what is down here!" said Al, his voice rising.
"Well, Mr. Jenkins, we don't have much of a choice, do we?" Said the Sarge rhetorically.
"And since your with us, you can act as a guide of some sort. Tell us what we're up against."
Al began to speak, trying to calm himself down. He closed his eyes, trying to recollect what horrors him and his colleagues had birthed beneath the earth.
"There's a kennel full of Cerberus, a few Hunter 121 Beta's… We even of a Hypnos III version of the Tyrant… the most formidable of them all. Most of my colleagues have turned into the mammal-hybrid based creatures, most of you refer to as "zombies"."
He sighed, looking down towards the floor. Closing his eyes, he begun to recite a report he wrote earlier that year on the development of the zombies.
"Most zombies move very slowly, and lack the ability to form complex thoughts. These two characteristics make the zombie the easiest enemy to confront. However, when confronted by several zombies in a small area, they can prove to be the most deadly of enemies.
"A zombie has lost any sense of reasoning and is driven completely by instincts. A zombie will pursue its prey, until it has lost enough blood or through decapitation or complete destruction of the head. Most of you have already figured out how to kill them by now though.
"But recently, the virus has began to absorb brain tissue and keep some, if not most motor functions. The studies we have done has shown that, as the virus progresses, the zombies move quicker, become smarter, and use methods not known to the previous, primitive versions of the virus. So basically, what I am saying is, we're up against creatures a lot smarter than we've encountered. My associates were exposed to the higher levels of the virus. We must be careful!"
The soldiers glanced around nervously, shifting uneasily underneath their equipment. Jackson stood next to the massive black man, Sergeant Hawkins. Jackson watched the Sarge as he stood there, taking in the scientists' information with an unfaltering, confident expression.
Jackson felt relief in being in the sergeant's group, knowing that if anyone could lead them out of here alive, it was him.
"Okay, well we've got only one option. We fight through here and—is there a way out of here Al?"
Al jerked his head up, broken from his train of thought.
"Th-there's a stairwell on the far side of the complex. It's about a mile-and-a-half from this location. This complex is relatively large, and I believe the stairwell leads into the basement sector of a regional hospital downtown—which I have come to the conclusion of being overrun by more of these—for a lack of a more comprehensible term—zombies."
Somewhere inside the complex a loud crash ensued, echoing through the walls and ventilation ducts. It had a distinctive sound like metal grinding against glass, and as quickly as it went off, the echo died away. The sound shook everyone of their thoughts, and eyes darted forward to the nearest door.
"… The fuck was that?" whispered on of the soldiers as the room delved into silence.
Al strained his ears, trying to figure out the source of the sound and where it came from.
"Oh go-god.. I d-don't w-wanna be here!!" his whisper coalesced into a loud shriek.
Jackson grabbed Al by the shirt collar and gripped tightly.
"Listen, Al; pull yourself together man! We need you!"
Al tried to collect himself, closing his eyes and taking in shallow breaths. He knew it himself; he needed to stay alive for the rest of the squad so they could make it through. It would be his consolation for creating the demonic hybrids. He felt guilty about helping develop the creatures, and he sought to help the squad destroy the demons. His survival was essential, and he already begun to feel remorseful to what he had unleashed upon the city, and moreover, upon his family, friends.
"Oh-okay… I'm fine now." Al stood up straight, trying to heighten himself even more.
"That crash though, it sounded like it came from containership B, where we hold the biohazardous creatures."
He was only about 5'4", and really round at that. He adjusted his spectacles and tried to slow down his heart rate, savoring the feeling he had in his new found confidence and bravery.
"I think we're good then Sarge." Said Jackson. "Now Al, what can you tell us about what lies beyond those doors?"
Al shuddered, looking off into the wall like he could actually see the room where the disturbance came from.
"Several Re3's—lickers—and a sedated version of the Hypnos Type III Tyrant. And from the sound of that noise, it had to be his tank losing pressure. The end result; the sedatives losing their effect, having him wake up in a rather grumpy manner."
Hawkins and the rest of the group glanced towards the doors, a silent blinking red light flickered on the panel next to the titanium-steel door, reassuring that there was a security clearance needed for entry. Above the door a camera whirred almost inaudibly as it spun slowly on it's axis, a green light below the lens unwavering.
"What about this containership? What kind of creatures did it hold?" asked Hawkins.
Hawkins walked over to the door and leaned on the desk next to the door. It seemed as if the room was a security checkpoint that lead into the confines of the complex. On the desk, there was a computer that was smashed all to hell, and the other desks in the room where scattered, some overturned, with the signs of a rushed exit. Flashlights illuminated what parts of the room the beams of lights happened to land on. Most of the squad had secured the room and put a bullet in the head of a corpse that lie crumpled in a heap over one of the desk, a bite mark gouging most of the person's neck.
The walls seemed thick, and the room itself; suffocating. A low, resonating hum began to go off somewhere deep inside the facility, and every crack in the room became devoured in the white, sterile overhead light. Jackson squinted his eyes, trying to adjust to the sudden exposure of the high-wattage bulbs. As soon as the light came on, it went off, leaving only the flashlights the main source of being able to view anything.
"And the point of that was …?"
"The lights—they keep going on and off. I think the back-up generator is beginning to fail. We lost all source of power around 8:00 am last night. Before the back-ups started to kick in." Explained Al.
"Al, we need you to get this door open." Said Hawkins, wrapping his knuckles against the cold, hard steel of the fancy, hi-tech looking door. "Can you get us through?"
Al glanced towards the keypad at the right, beads of sweat dripping off the tip of his nose. He nodded, shaking off the concoction of sweat.
"Y-yeah, I can get us through."
He parted his way through the heavily armed crowd and passed Hawkins, sliding his ID card and typing in a few numbers into the keypad receiver. The red light to the key code entry blinked red twice, then turned green, followed by a loud beep! that barely emended an echo through out the thick room.
The door's airlocks slowly released, letting off a hissing sound as the door itself began to rise. Weapons were raised in a steadfast manner, the barrel-mounted flashlights on the M4A3's basking the opposing room with the blue-ish white light. It was actually a hallway, and it split into two directions. It went left in one direction, then right. The corridor was eerily silent, save for the mechanical hum that ran through the complex. Hawkins stepped out into the hallway and pointed his rifle to the left, flanked by a few more troops that pointed down the right side of the hallway; they then held there position, covering the rear flanks as Hawkins slowly advanced.
The light on the rifle only illuminated so far, that's why Hawkins only saw the glowing eyes of the creature; eyes that were wide and aware with the undead pathogen. It was one of the undead zombies. Specifically, the man use to be a lab technician, minus half his cheek bone and without a hand. Red, glistening teeth were shown as the creature made its advancement, quickly running into the exposure of Hawkins flashlight. Decayed arms shot out in front of the zombie as the dead man anticipated the arrival of newly found fresh meat.
The thing squealed in a horrific, shrill cry, causing Hawkins to end the undead's misery by delivering a single 5.56mm round into its cranium, causing the zombie's head to jerk back, absorbing the recoil of the round as it fell harshly upon the hard surface of the complex, blood leaking from the gaping hole in its mouth and the newly created exit-wound on its head.
Hawkins didn't flinch a bit. Unmoving, he tiptoed his way down the hall, placing one heavy boot in front of the other to decrease the sound he gave off. He stepped firmly over the corpse as it began to twitch.
Down on the opposite end of the hall, near the security clearance entrance, Jackson held his gaze, along with his rifle, pointed down the short end of the corridor. His flashlight could only go so far, but the light illuminated the hallway down on this end that split once to the left, past an observation room with large, separated windows where he could see several test tubes lined up, the mysterious red glow bathing the liquid and the blackened, unidentifiable creature. The atmosphere in the hall gave off an eerie feeling. It was even more frightening because Jackson hadn't had a clue what was around the corner.. There could be anything waiting for them there. His light shown down the length of the hall, where he could see another door at the end of the hall.
Jackson remained intent on keeping the rear flank secure, his aim being held with steady concentration. Jackson barely flinched as he heard the shrill cry of the creature, and relying on Hawkins instincts, he didn't move as the rifle round echoed up and down the hallway. Not moving his head, Jackson could've sworn he saw one of the creatures twitch inside the test tube as the round emanated off the walls, carrying its echo as it faded, reaching the end of the corridor. The red glow of the large, cylindrilical tube gave off the creepy, incandescent shape of the occupants inside, which moved with a sedated slumber of an experimental creature. Nevertheless, the creatures reacted with the same luxury of those who weren't surrounded by the two-inch thick glass, their senses fully capable, if not more advanced, as the humans that were beginning to fill the hallway.
Loud footsteps could be heard down the hallway that split to the left, past the observation room with the large windows that made viewing the test tubes easier. Heavy, rubber-soled shoes slammed against the tile of the complex, the echo chasing that of the gunfire. Whatever had heard the loud shot was trying to find the source, and Jackson had a feeling that it wasn't friendly.
To his expectations, the footsteps increased their decibel level, which held a tall figure doned in what looked like a mechanical technicians clothes that came into view from around the corner rather quickly, directly in front of the beam of lights. Its face pale, eyes shot with white, diseased anger, and nose dripping blood that spilled everywhere as it walked, the zombie gurgled and snorted as the emotionless expression began to comprehend what to do next. The undead figure dashed towards the source of lights, trying to reach the destruction of Jackson and the rest of the squad with a quickening sprint.
The triggers on the rifles were squeezed simultaneously, several shots ringing out into the darkness of the underground structure as the creature that stood before them went down in a barrage of gunfire. Cordite issued to clog the nasal passage of Jackson's nose as he lowered his rifle a tad bit, looking down upon the bullet-riddled figure as the nerve endings began to misfire, causing the zombie to twitch uncontrollably in its last throes of undead life.
Smoke could be seen swirling in and out of what light was being given off. Down in the observation room, one of the darkened figures moved in a vivid motion, trying to wriggle itself free of the confines of the tube. Then it stopped, due to the sedatives that had zapped it of most of its energy and ATP.
Jackson let out a small gasp, then swallowing hard as he inched down towards the hallway, stepping over the dead body in the process. He reached the three-way intersection of the corridor, with the rest of the unit that didn't follow Hawkins behind him.
Hawkins clicked the button on his headset and spoke into it.
"Hold your position; keep the rear secure until I further advise. I'm going to check out this section real quick and then I'll give you the go-ahead to regroup with me."
"Roger that."
One of the soldiers posted up next to Jackson, who had his rifle pointed down the length of the hallway that split to the left. He hugged the wall as the flashlight illuminated about ten- to fifteen feet down the hallway, which ran past the large windows of the observation room. Jackson's rifle shook in his hands as he tried to maintain a steady aim. That's when the loud clap of hard-soled shoe's could be heard down the hallway he and the rest of the group was posted in.
What could be seen, the length of the hallway ran past the observation room, with the blinking red letters posted above one of the large windows, and down a bit further, ending with a single door and another part of the hallway breaking off to the right. How far it went down, he hadn't a clue.
The footsteps grew louder and increased in clatter. Jackson already knew what the sound held. More fucking zombies. All of a sudden, the echoing footsteps stopped as they reached their apex of noise. His light shone down the hall where it split to the left again, and he heard a strange gagging noise, followed by the unmistakable sound of someone vomiting. Red liquid could be seen splattering the floor, but the source of where it came from hid itself behind the part of the hall that changed direction. A body hit hard against the floor, and a blood-crusted scalp hit harshly down upon the floor and into the puddle of regurgitated bodily fluids.
"What the hell?" said the guy next to Jackson.
"My associates were exposed to the higher levels of the virus."
Al's words reverberated inside Jackson's head, piecing together and coming up with the conclusion that the person had just succumbed into the final stages of the virus.
Heavy breathing could be heard out of the fetid lungs of other zombies, apparently waiting for their fellow associate to become fully under the influence of the virus.
"… wait for it… "
The only viewable source of confirmation was the dome-piece of the victim lying face down in it's puddle of blood, the rest of the body obscured from view due to the abrupt change-of-direction of the hallway. The victim convulsed violently for about 3 seconds, then stopped. A cloud-like vapor was then expelled from the creature's mouth, noting that the zombie was now active.
The things head swiveled quickly towards the light, its face contorted in an unfathomable hatred towards all that was living. The zombie hissed as blood shot forth from its mouth, and it threw itself up onto its legs and charged towards the light, followed by what it appeared to be more of the zombies pouring out from the hall.
"Good god!"
Jackson and the guy next to him simultaneously squeezed their triggers in rapid succession, letting off the burst of their M4A3 automatic rifle fire. 5.56 x 7.625mm machine gun rounds pierced the outer flesh of the zombies, hollow points deteriorating what remained of the barely-functional organs that were slowly decaying inside their body cavities. Jackson and the guy next to him, Spc. Grant, were then joined by the rest of the rear protection, desperately trying to halt the creature's devastating onslaught.
Down the hall, Al jerked his head back towards the rear flank, muzzle flashes dancing across the hard concrete of the Research & Development department. Hawkins' radio set burst to life.
"Rear flank is currently being secured, sir. But goddamn there'r so many of those fuckers!" exclaimed Grant.
"Roger, fall back while providing cover fire if needed. Grant, we don't need anymore casualties!"
"Roger that, sir!"
Al watched Hawkins let his hand off his head set and walked down the opposite side of the hall. Al desperately tried to remember the map he had looked over countless times before, trying to recall what rooms lye ahead, but as of late, he took too many knocks on his head. The hardest coming from when this disaster first started. He had tried to flee the undead by running into the woman's bathroom and hiding in one of the stalls, but the creatures almost overcame him when the crawled underneath the spaces of the stalls.
A vivid picture came into his mind, that of a map of the R&D department.
Al, Hawkins, and about 5 other soldiers were standing in front of the entrance of the communications room. Jackson, Grant and 12 other soldiers were holding the rear flank. Al had guessed the other creatures were coming from the employee housing and lounging, which held about 20 rooms, a cafeteria, break room, recreation center, and lounge area. He also remembered the two observation rooms that held the test tubes, one room holding the more biohazardous creatures, and the other, the one with the large observation windows, holding the lesser of two evils, literally speaking. He believed the loud crash they heard came from Observation room 1.
In the background, the gunfire slowly died down, the loud shrieks of the undead thinning out as pop-shots went off in the rear, the guys guarding the back making sure the remaining zombies weren't getting up for sure.
"Communications are down, so this room won't do us any good." Said Al.
"Also, if you come in contact with the virus, I suggest you remember that room." Stated Al once more, pointing back the way the came towards part of the hallway that separated into a room. The gold plate was incrested with the word "Quarantine" which flickered as Hawkins and some of the soldiers ran their flashlights over it.
The Sarge nodded, turning back down the hall that he had not yet crossed into. He shone his light down and saw that the hall broke into two different directions, a sign that pointed in those directions and read "Bio Development" that pointed to the left and "Research" that pointed to the right.
"You sure we're going the right way?" inquired Sergeant Hawkins.
"Y-yeah, I'm sure. We go through the Research department and it takes us to a service elevator. That should take us to Logistics, which in turn will take us to the surface, in the city."
Hawkins tapped his helm, pressing the button on his headset.
"Grant, bring the rest of the unit towards my position slowly. Keep watch on the rear. I don't want any of those fuckers creeping up on us."
"Yessir, we're on the way."
When the remaining unit caught up with the Hawkins, the crept forward down the hall, taking a right down the three-way intersection, and down the hall into the Research development.
They certainly do not know what's in store for them. But, soon, they will find out! thought Al from the safety of the Army National Guard unit.