'Are you alright?' Vikram asked, picking up Clark's pistol from where it had fallen when the Civilian dropped it.
'I'm fine.' He looked down at the corpse between them. 'Thanks.' It was all he needed to say, for the time being. He stepped over the body and into the ICU. The equipment there looked ready to use, just as the Civilian had promised. Clark ignored the waiting hospital bed and found a security terminal. He paged through the menus and re-activated the emergency lockdown. An error message appeared when the screen refreshed.
***INVALID OR OUTDATED PASSWORD ENTERED***
He tried again but he hadn't made a mistake, he knew it. The Civilian had changed the password and it had died with him. There was no way to shut the ten thousand doors.
Clark flipped open his cell phone and called Horrocks. The phone rang twelve times before it was answered.
'Sir,' Horrocks reported, 'I'm pinned down in a sally port and we're seeing heavy action right now, we have'have'please hold on a second, sir.' Clark heard gunshots on the other end. 'I have taken significant casualties. I cannot hold this section of the D Wing for very much longer, sir.'
'I want you to break contact as possible,' Clark ordered. 'We've lost too much time. I want you to retreat to the roof, to the helipad. We're going to abandon the facility. I will see you there and provide further orders when we arrive.' He ended the call once Horrocks had confirmed the order and turned to face Vikram.
'I suppose we should get out of here before the walking dead show up.'
Vikram agreed.
The malignancy'oh, for the days when I could call it a 'neoplasm' with a straight face!'is like a football now, or some horrible fetus growing inside her. Some nights while she's sedated I place a hand on its smooth edge and imagine I can feel it kicking. I've been working for so long with no result' I should take a break. [Lab Notes, 8/17/04]
A dead girl, maybe fifteen years old, pushed down the hall, one side pressed up tight against the cream-painted cinder blocks. She left a trail of blood from behind her, blood which had soaked through her hair, ruined her clothes. She didn't seem to care.
Nilla balled her hands into fists and then let go of them again. The pain in her left hand'she wondered if she'd broken it while getting out of her manacles'brought her into perfect focus. Time to take stock.
There was shooting everywhere'it came to her from every darkened corridor, every pool of emergency lighting. Smoke filled one hallway. She was pretty sure the prison was on fire.
The dead moved through the prison like they owned the place. And she was one of the dead. She walked as calmly as she could past the dead teenager'the girl didn't even reach for her, didn't waste a moment's energy on Nilla'and stepped through a doorway.
The armless freak blocked her path.
He didn't look all that great. Skin had peeled away from most of his naked chest, long strips of it dangling around his waist. His face had puffed up and turned black with rot and his eyes looked like frosted glass. The smell of him would make animals run away.
He wasn't quite used up, though. He grinned down at her in the darkness, really grinned'how was that possible? There wasn't enough left of his brain to feel any satisfaction in intimidating her.
The grin slid into leering territory as she studied it.
'Fuck off,' she told him. Something cold and sharp throbbed in her chest'maybe her dead heart going into cardiac arrest. 'Just' leave me alone. Get out of the way.'
The grin opened and he made an obscene sucking noise. 'Nnnnnuggghhh,' he told her, and she took a step back in extreme shock. He coughed and tried again. 'No,' he said, finally.