Zombie Dawn Outbreak Read online

  “They’re taking out the security systems, I think somebody else is accessing the security net,” said Garcia as she looked around the room.

  “I recommend immediate action if you want to stay in control of the situation,” continued Garcia.

  Dr Murphy, a computing specialist in his own right, turned back to his terminal accessing several high security subroutines that only he and the high level staff had access to.

  “I think I can get access to the internal video feed if I reconfigure the climate control ports to retransmit the cameras. Give me a second,” he said.

  As Dr Murphy continued on the video feed Dr Garcia hammered away at the keyboard to try and protect the sensitive firewalls and routers. She rewrote the port forwarding and decryption control scripts and within a few more seconds the firewalls were locked down and the data appeared safe.

  “Can you give me a hand with this?” asked Dr Murphy as he transferred his screen over to Garcia.

  The access screens popped up on her terminal, as well as the climate control and video control servers. In just thirty seconds she had removed the control of part of the air circulation system and piggybacked the video stream. The large screen in the centre of the room flashed and then displayed a hazy image of the room where the doctor was being held.

  “Fuck me!” shouted one of the technicians as he saw the plight of their top researcher.

  To their horror they could see the doctor was tied and gagged in the corner of the room, and with what looked like bloody wounds on his face. Dr Garcia moved up to the screen, examining the room’s layout.

  “It looks like he’s rigged the door with something, look,” she said.

  On the door there appeared to be a rectangular device, it was placed to the side of the door frame and had the ominous look of a bomb of some kind.

  “If he’s rigged the room we’re going to have to use the internal countermeasures,” said Dr Garcia.

  She returned to the computer console.

  “I’m going to ready the system, it will be ready in about twenty seconds.”

  Dr Murphy stood silent, weighing up the options. The internal countermeasures were designed to protect the sensitive site against terrorist attacks. It was a two stage system to first eliminate any hostile biological threat, including the terrorists themselves, and second to stop any fires or similar attempts to destroy equipment.

  To facilitate this response a combination of short life nerve gas and nitrogen was pumped in. The nerve gas killed almost instantly but lost viability in just seconds. This meant the room could be safely reoccupied after a few minutes. The second part of the system pumped in a large volume of inert nitrogen. This would starve fire of oxygen and protect valuable technology and equipment from fire or explosives that were still burning.

  “Ok, get it ready and standby. If we can’t get the doctor out safely then we will have to neutralise the threat,” he said.

  The intercom crackled and the voice of the man returned.

  “Time’s up, where’s my data line?”

  “We’re having problems getting it resolved because of the damage from the attack. We’ll have it working in about an hour,” answered Dr Murphy.

  “Bullshit!” shouted the man.

  On the screen the man could be seen walking towards the tied up doctor. He moved up close and then held the wireless intercom near the man’s face. He placed it down on the floor and then pulled out a hand gun and pointed it directly at the man’s face. He continued shouting down the line.

  “Don’t fuck with me. I know you can connect me in seconds and I also know you’re monitoring this room. This is what happens if you treat me like this!” he screamed.

  He lowered the pistol and fired a single shot into the doctor’s leg. The detail wasn’t perfect on the large screen but it was good enough to show the red blood on the floor and to see the doctor writhing in pain. The man continued shouting at the intercom.

  “You have thirty seconds or I’ll blow the shit out of this place, thirty seconds!” he shouted.

  Dr Murphy turned to Dr Garcia.

  “We have to stop him. If that sample gets out into the open and the integrity of the room is breached we could have a major incident here. I’m talking major,” he said.

  “Couldn’t you have told me this earlier?” said an irritated Dr Garcia.

  “Like I said, it’s a need to know business. Are you ready?”

  The hostage taker had now lifted up the sample case and was hitting the locking mechanism with the pistol. He shouted into the intercom.

  “Five seconds and I blow us all to shit!” he screamed.

  “Now!” shouted Dr Murphy as he turned back to Garcia, “Hit it!”

  Dr Garcia looked at the screen one more time. There was nothing that could be done. It was either kill the two men in the room or half the facility would be destroyed, plus the two men, the sample, the data and a potential major biochemical incident.

  She hit the run button on the touch screen and triggered the automated security system, it would take just seconds. She watched the large view screen carefully. A tone emitted from the terminal, indicating the start of the sequence.

  The man held up the now damaged case in one hand and in his right the pistol. Throwing it down he held out a trigger type device, and then it happened. The tone from the terminal changed, it was the nerve gas and the effect was instant. The man shuddered on the screen and then collapsed to the floor. Without even a glimpse of movement it appeared he was dead before he hit the ground. The wriggling doctor in the corner of the room had stopped moving though the pool of blood near his wounded leg continued to grow.

  One of the technicians shouted out, now only spotting the deaths of the two men. Another vomited over his terminal. Back on the screen there was no sign of movement. Dr Garcia stood up and walked over to Dr Murphy.

  “This is bad. The fact that this facility was breached is one thing, the fact that one of your staff was able to get this far is inexcusable. I’m going to need to interview everybody that was here. We need to stay in lockdown until this situation is resolved. Also, what about the data, is it still intact?”

  Dr Murphy was shell-shocked. He just sat there in his chair starring at the screen.

  “I’ve known him for thirteen years, we’ve been working on this project for half of that time,” he muttered.

  The door opened and in walked three of the armed guards. The largest of the group spoke first.

  “Sir, we’ve found three more devices and have disabled them,” he said.

  Dr Garcia stepped in.

  “Devices, as in explosives?” she asked.

  The guard looked at Dr Murphy first who then nodded, giving him the confirmation he needed.

  “Yes, they aren’t armed, luckily they must have rushed planting them. They’re C4 based but the triggers were all remote. We isolated the signal and set up a block whilst we removed the detonators. The problem though is that we have traced the signal and it looks like there could be up to three more in the facility.”

  “This looks like a major operation to me. You need to get a Federal response cleared while we locate the rest of the charges,” said Garcia.

  “What the hell!” shouted one of the technicians who stood in front of the large screen. It was still broadcasting the feed from the room.

  Dr Garcia looked before realising that the doctor was standing up whilst the hostage taker was up on one leg. She rushed to her terminal, checked the screen for the progress of the internal security system.

  “I don’t understand, the room has been flooded. Nothing can live in that room.”

  “No, no!” shouted Dr Murphy as he pointed at the floor, “Look!”

  On the screen the sample case was clearly damaged and something was leaking out onto the floor. One of the men was staggering towards the booby trapped door, seemingly oblivious to the explosives attached to it. Dr Murphy turned to the pillar nearby and hit a large red button. Red lights sta
rted flashing around the room and a low level klaxon started its drone. He pressed the button and hit the intercom.

  “This is a Level One Containment Breach. This is not a drill. All rooms are being sealed, no personnel are to enter or leave the facility. Tactical teams are to follow protocols,” he said.

  He hit the button on the intercom that repeated his message continually. Dr Garcia triggered the internal system one more, flooding the room with the lethal concoction of gasses.

  The screen went black and immediately the facility shook from the impact of an explosion deep inside the centre. The sound followed a dull crump. Dr Garcia hit a key, scanning through available security cameras until she reached the one in the corridor outside the room. The screen was initially full of white smoke but as it started to clear the scene became one of devastation and blood. The blast had destroyed the doorway and part of the wall. Blood and gore were plastered on the corridor from either the hostage taker or from the security personnel that had been waiting on the other side for the order to breach. She moved the small control joystick, moving the camera to examine the rest of the hallway.

  About twenty feet from the door were the bodies of half a dozen heavily armoured security personnel. They were not moving though whether this was from the blast or the nerve gas wasn’t obvious. Part of the corridor on the opposite side from the blown door was damaged, leaving several jagged holes the size of dustbin lids in the wall. She turned to look in the opposite direction towards to elevator. The entire glass side of it was smashed and the bloodied bodies of two technicians lay on the floor, presumably killed by the gas and injured by the glass.

  Dr Murphy slumped in his chair, shaking his head. Dr Garcia stood up and after taking in a deep breath, reverted to her role as the company’s trouble-shooter.

  “I’ll take over from here. We need anybody affected by the chemicals to be put into quarantine. I’ll take a biohazard team down to investigate,” she said.

  Dr Murphy, still in shock simply nodded. Garcia left the room, flanked by two of the armed guards and headed to the closest containment room where the Hazmat suits and equipment were held. She was obviously well versed in using the equipment as in less than a minute she was fully dressed in an enclosed biohazard suit and making her way to the emergency access staircase. Waiting for her there were four members of the security staff, each wearing the same suits. The only major difference being that each man was carrying a SCAR modular rifle. These futuristic looking weapons were made by Fabrique Nationale de Herstal for the U.S. Special Operations Command. The weapon was the SCAR-L variant, chambered the 5.56x45mm NATO cartridge and perfect for use by military contractors.

  “Ready?” she asked.

  The four men nodded, locking their weapons. Dr Garcia led the unit down the staircase to the east access point where they waited behind the door. The smoke, dust and chemicals hadn’t been able to penetrate the two sealed doors from the staircase into the corridor. Dr Garcia held out her arm, attached to her suit was a sophisticated looking bio analysis tool. It displayed a sequence of colours and figures describing the environment. After tapping a few buttons she was satisfied that the area was clear and gave the men the nod.

  The first man hit a button on the door that slid it open to the side. The scanner picked up nothing untoward through the first airlock so the group entered and closed the door behind them. Once again Dr Garcia double-checked the area, still clear. With a final nod the door opened and the four men burst in, taking up defensive positions around the entrance.

  More smoke flooded the corridor as the airflow patterns changed with the opening door. As the dust cleared the guards were shocked to find no bodies on the floor where they had been on the view screens. One of the guards cried out, falling to the ground with two badly injured technicians on top of him. As the guards turned they could see more of the wounded coming towards them. They moved with a bizarre slowness as though they were in the throes of rigamortis as they stepped.

  “Fuck me!” shouted the guard to her left as he fumbled with his firearm.

  Two of the guards moved in, smashing their rifle butts into the heads of the wounded people. It was bloody work but after several heavy swipes they had reached the injured man. They dragged him back towards the doorway.

  Dr Garcia called in on her intercom, “We’ve got a serious problem down here. Something has happened to those exposed. I don’t know if it’s from the security system, or from your sample.”

  “What if somebody tampered with the system, maybe pumped something else in to interfere with the research?” asked one of the guards.

  Dr Garcia considered his comments for a moment before speaking back into her intercom.

  “I suggest we...” she was interrupted before she could finish.

  From out of the dust another group of the injured had appeared and this time they were striking with their arms and hands at the group. Though the guards beat them back there was something inhuman about their eyes and movement. As the close quarter fighting continued Dr Garcia bent down to examine the wounded man. His face appeared pale through the protective transparent screen over his head. She was about to touch him with her hand when he started to shake and spasm, classic symptoms of a deadly biological attack of some kind.

  The door opened and another four men in Hazmat suits rushed in, two held him down whilst the other two moved into the corridor to help their beleaguered comrades.

  Dr Garcia stepped back, keeping away from the trouble whilst she continued her dialogue with Dr Murphy.

  “The situation is dangerous down here. It’s getting out of control. I think we have some kind of psycho traumatic outbreak that has affected the people down here.”

  “Can you reach the damaged sample?” came back the voice on the headset.

  Dr Garcia turned to the left and looked down at the damage in the corridor where the explosion had occurred.

  “I’ll take a look,” she said.

  She took several steps, moving past the wounded man on the ground as he was being held down. The fighting continued ahead as the guards pushed back the wounded or more likely, the infected. She stopped as one of the guards was overwhelmed and knocked to the floor. Another of the infected victims fell down onto him, clawing at his weapon. The man on the ground must have panicked because a long burst of gunfire poured from his Skar rifle, tearing apart the man trying to attack him. The injured man stumbled back several feet, multiple bullet holes in his chest. Dark blood sprayed against the already scorched walls. He staggered a little more and then stopped. Shaking his arm he proceeded towards the man with the weapon.

  “Stun them!” shouted the leader of the tactical guards.

  One of the men took out a stun grenade from his belt and pulled the pin. These grenades were special versions, based upon the standard military and police issue items. They were designed with a tiny, non damaging blast radius but could incapacitate enemies at a distance for several minutes. As he moved his hand to throw the weapon another of the infected threw himself at the guard, knocking him back. The grenade fell from his hand, hitting the ground and then bouncing. The guard leapt for the grenade but it was too late. With three quick beeps the device armed itself and then detonated. In the narrow confines of the corridor the effect was devastating. The initial blast, though small, was enough to burn through one the of Hazmat suits. The concussive blast though knocked all of them within five metres to the ground. Though it was designed to stun or incapacitate people it was not intended to be dropped into a group as densely populated as this.

  Dr Garcia was stunned by the blast and thrown hard against the wall. The emergency klaxon had kicked in again, adding its monotonous drone to the sounds of movement and people. As she slid to the floor the sound became muffled and dull as the concussion took hold. In just seconds she passed out, the sounds fading until they became nothing at all.

  The darkness faded away and light returned to her eyes slowly. It could have been seconds, minutes or even hours,
she had no idea. She tried to focus, seeing people and movement off into the distance. Her throat was sore, she badly needed a drink. She tried to move but something was holding her down. She tried to focus, hearing voices and shouting.

  Then came the gun shots.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Queensland, Australia

  9:00am

  Bruce was stumbling out of his Burgundian tent, it had been a heavy night. It was the second day of the medieval re-enactment event. Aching from the day before, and having had rather a large quantity of beer in the night, he stumbled over to a nearby tree to relieve himself, only to notice the organiser’s wife being in plain view. He didn’t care.

  It was already fully light and the day was warming up quickly, another sweatfest. Bruce had been re-enacting for over ten years now, it provided a great outlet from his job as a PR consultant. In his job he had to be painfully nice to everyone, when he’d only want to hammer them on the head with a poleaxe, so this hobby suited him well.

  Bruce was a married man, though you would rarely know it, his wife spending so much time with her family in England. But this always provided a lot of time for his hobbies, especially as she always took the kids with her. He stumbled several hundred yards over to the toilet block, a luxury he wasn’t always afforded, though this event took place at the local rugby and football club.

  Getting to the basin he threw a cupped hand full of water onto his face. The sharp cool shock was a pleasant wake up from the dazed state he was in. He looked up at himself in the mirror. Water dripped from his short beard onto the dirty arming jacket he’d not bothered to remove in the night. The quilted garment was near white when it began life, but was now a greasy and dirty stained mix of black and cream, the result of regular contact with mail armour.

  He wandered back to the line of historical tents. Bruce’s closest friends, Dylan and Connor, were sat around a gas stove cooking bacon for brekkie. It was an unavoidable smell for him to pass up, sizzling meat after a beer fuelled night and dehydrated morning.

  “Got any going spare?” asked Bruce.