“Don’t know, don’t care,” said Becks. “Let’s move.”
Finding the correct server room had put us deep enough in the building that we couldn’t just bolt for the exit. I gestured for Becks to exit ahead of me. She nodded understanding, suddenly all business, and left the room with her pistol held at waist level. I motioned for Mahir to go after her, and I brought up the rear. It wasn’t as cold a move as it might have seemed from the outside. Becks was well equipped to handle herself, Mahir needed the cover, and I…
I was the most expendable one here.
We made our way through the halls, ducking out of sight whenever we heard footsteps, and avoiding any room with a red light above it. Becks went around each corner first, signaling us to follow once she was sure the next hall was clear. I would remain behind just long enough to be sure we weren’t being tailed. It was slow. It was nerve-racking. I would actually have preferred a zombie mob. At least you can shoot those.
We all wound up standing together at a T-junction, identical halls stretching out to the left and right. “I… I can’t remember which way we turn here.” Becks sounded horrified. “I don’t know which way to go.”
“You go that way.” I pointed left. “I’ll go the other way. If you find the exit, wait there; I’ll catch up. If you don’t, turn around.”
“Shaun—”
“Still in charge,” I said amiably, before turning and jogging down the right-side hall. They didn’t follow me. They were smarter than that.
The hall was deserted. I kept going, looking for the outer wall. My attention was so tightly focused that I didn’t hear the woman who was running barefoot down the next hall until she came whipping around the corner and ran straight into me.
I staggered backward, barely managing to keep my balance. She did much the same, ducking her head for a moment in the process—long enough for me to register that she was wearing doctor’s scrubs and a lab coat, but no shoes or socks. Her hair was short-cropped and dark brown, where it wasn’t bleached in streaky patches.
Then she looked up, and my heart stopped.
“George?” I whispered.
“Shaun?” Her voice was unsteady, like she wasn’t sure how she was supposed to be using it. We stared at each other, neither of us seeming to be quite sure of what we were supposed to do next.
Then she grabbed my hand and shouted, “Run!”
“Impossible” is something that stopped having any staying power when the dead started to rise. Trust me on this one. I’m a scientist.
—From the journal of Dr. Shannon Abbey, date unknown.
Every day I wake up thinking “We’re all going to die today.” Maybe it’s weird, but I find that comforting. Every day, I wake up thinking “This is the day it ends, and we all get to rest.”
That’ll be nice.
—From Adaptive Immunities, the blog of Shaun Mason, August 1, 2041. Unpublished.
GEORGIA: Twenty-three
I slipped the lab coat over my scrubs, dropping the shoes on the floor, where they landed with a clatter. I stepped into them, still moving on autopilot. There was no blood on me—it had all been on my slippers, and those were on the other side of the barrier. I was clean, and I was alone. If I was getting out of here, I was doing it under my own power. I took a deep breath, turned, and walked down the hall. It took all my self-control not to break into a run. Running would attract attention. I was one more person in scrubs and a lab coat, practically part of the landscape, and the last thing I wanted was to attract attention to myself.
Voices drifted down the hall ahead of me. Suddenly remembering my little gun, I dropped it into the lab coat pocket and kept walking. A group of unfamiliar technicians rounded the corner and walked right past me, barely seeming to register my presence. I really was invisible… until someone recognized me, anyway. That was going to happen sooner or later. I needed a plan, and “keep walking until you find the exit” wasn’t going to cut it.
Rescue came from an unexpected source: the building’s security system. “There has been a security breach,” it announced. All down the hall, the lights changed color. Some turned red. Most turned yellow, followed by their associated doors sliding open. “Please proceed to the nearest open lab and await instructions. There are currently no confirmed contaminants. Please proceed to the nearest open lab and await instructions. Remain calm. Please proceed—”