Land of the Undying Page 2

  Instead, they fired up the supercollider. Taking none of the usual safety precautions, like making sure the chambers were clear of debris, or that the magnets along the loops were in proper alignment, they fired.

  No one is sure what caused the creation of these new particles. Those who might have been able to shed some light were killed. Either in the explosion, the collapse that followed, or by the modified strangelets that were released into the air surrounding the complex.

  The effect was not instantaneous. The particles worked on a nuclear level, and it took time for the matter conversion to spread through a creature the size of a human. The initial victims were hospitalized with what looked like severe burns from the explosion and resulting fires. Contact with them contaminated hundreds of emergency personnel and good Samaritans who helped pull them from the rubble or treat them in hospitals. Those people in turn went home, or out into the streets, and contaminated others with hugs, handshakes, sneezes, and the like.

  Some few of those in the initial wave of contaminations boarded planes and trains. Spreading the contamination to other nations, even other continents.

  In the meantime, groundwater near the site was also compromised. Rats, insects, even birds were infected, passing it along. Corn and wheat fields were converted. Although animals like rats and humans were visibly altered when contaminated, grains of wheat looked much the same. So even after the initial apocalyptic dying off of the living creatures of the world, survivors died from contaminated food. Only that which was sealed in cans or packages, and old enough to have already been delivered to distribution points, was considered safe.

  Had mankind known of the particles early on, steps could have been taken to contain it. The entire area, the nation of Switzerland, even all of Europe could have been sanitized with nuclear weapons. A quarantine put in place.

  The microwave beeped at Mace as it finished bombarding his burrito with radiation that caused its molecules to spin, creating the heat that cooked it from within. He set the plate on his desk and sat down. Looking at the cooling burrito, he took a deep breath and cut into it with a fork.

  The humans and animals that were contaminated suffered a similar fate to his burrito. The strange matter conversion of their bodies basically cooked them at a cellular level. The pain drove them insane. Any human feeling, or higher reason just gone from their brains. Only the lizard brain functions remained. The need to eat, to drink; to survive. Reaction to movement and loud noises. Aggression; plenty of aggression. The silver lining to the thundercloud of human extinction was that the conversion quickly killed about half of the population it contaminated. Of those contaminated that survived the process, be they human or beast, bird or bug, their natural aggression was amplified. And they did not reserve their wrath for the living. They attacked and consumed one another just as readily.

  So rather than the hordes of billions of walking dead roaming the earth that were envisioned in so many Hollywood films, the undead were reducing their own numbers at an impressive pace. Survivors who could hold out long enough in protected places might outlast the creatures. In places where food had been abundant, like the United States, the few thousands who survived might live out their lives on stored food.

  Finished with his meal, Mace began to prepare to venture onto the surface. He slipped into black jeans, long sleeved shirt, and boots, over which he strapped tactical protective gear. He donned synthetic gloves and a polyester ski mask. One key to survival was to cover as much skin as possible with non-biological materials to prevent contamination. One did not need to be bitten, or scratched. A splatter of blood, a casual brush against a contaminated plant, and that was it. Game over.

  He strapped on a modified shoulder harness. Into the holster, he slid his Glock 19 loaded with a full magazine of fifteen Black Talon hollow point rounds that he’d found on a previous excursion. Then he slid his trusty Mossberg shotgun into the sheath on his back. He’d sewn it to the shoulder harness himself. Next to the shotgun he sheathed a katana claimed from a pawn shop on a previous outing.

  Fastening a wide belt around his waist, he now had a pistol at each hip. He didn’t like to use the guns, because the noise drew attention to him. And attention was the last thing he wanted. But they had stopping power, and in close quarters that might be the difference between life and death. He’d learned early on that ‘penetrating’ rounds just passed through the creatures with little effect. They just kept on coming. Switching to the shotgun, and pistols with hollow-point rounds that expanded on impact to push back his targets was much more effective.

  He hiked a mostly empty backpack onto his shoulders, then slid on a biker’s helmet with the face-guard up so that he could breathe more easily. Lastly, he grabbed a spear. With a six-foot long shaft and a flattened, slightly curved head, it looked more like a glaive than a spear.

  Mace preferred the sword and spear. They were nearly silent if he could kill his target quickly. A head-strike or decapitation meant no scream of pain to alert nearby creatures. Plus a spear never ran out of ammo. It also made a handy walking stick, and was good for fetching items down from high shelves.

  Leaving his quarters, he passed by several larger, empty rooms. Being alone now, he could have claimed any of them for his own. But he felt comfortable and secure in his little room. The fact that it had a thick metal door that he could close when he slept didn’t hurt either.

  He stopped at the facility’s security office to check the monitors. There were cameras at the ground floor entrance and the interior corridors. He watched for several minutes, studying all the feeds for any sign of movement. Most of the original group of survivors had been employees here. One was a security tech working on a system upgrade when the world ended. They’d been installing an AI to run all the building’s automated systems. His all-access card was what allowed Mace and the others to go in and out, and operate the building controls. The tech guy, his name had been Bob, had shown Mace how to turn off the lights topside so as not to draw attention. And to set the cameras for night vision or infrared, and for motion detection. He and Mace together had nearly finished the AI install before Bob was killed. Bob had named the AI “Peabody”. The AI still needed some fine tuning before Mace was willing to activate it. One light turned on upstairs at the wrong time, or one door unlocked, might mean the end of Mace.

  Seeing no movement above, he left the security room and walked to the elevator. A swipe of the security card, and the doors opened for him. He pushed the “G” button for ground level, and the car began to rise.

  The facility ran on geothermal power. Heat from a vent in the earth deep below was used to turn turbines that generated electricity. That same heat could be vented out above, or used to heat the facility. And as a backup, there were room-sized battery banks meant to keep all the equipment running if the power failed. As long as nothing broke down, and Mace did a little regular preventive maintenance, he might have power for a century or more. Not that he’d live that long.

  His problem was food. He had purified water to drink. There was a filter system that gathered the condensation from the heat exchanger and funneled the water into tanks. Those tanks were used for drinking water, sanitary, air cooling, and fire suppression if needed. He even had a walk-in freezer in the cafeteria. If there was any safe fresh meat left in the world, he’d be able to store it.

  As the elevator neared the ground floor, Mace stepped to one side of the car and lowered his spear. If anything awaited him behind those doors, he’d need to rush it and push his way out of the car. Being trapped in a small space was a sure way to die.

  The doors slid open to reveal an empty corridor. The elevator was located in a side corridor off the building’s main lobby. Most who visited the building before the world went to shit, were never aware there were sublevels going down some forty stories. Mace advanced quietly down the hall to where it opened onto the spacious lobby. The front wall of the lobby was a twenty-foot high wall of glass that looked out over a park-li
ke area with a fountain, and stone benches. Parking for the building was to the rear, a five-level parking structure.

  Mace used the round convex security mirror at the hallway junction to make sure the lobby was clear, before rounding the corner and stepping into the open. He crossed the open area of the lobby as quickly as possible, pausing to duck behind the high reception desk. There was another security monitor here, and he used it to make another check of the cameras.

  In the old days, three months ago, he would never have had the patience to do this. Life moved at a fast pace. Anything that took more than thirty seconds was a waste of time. Food was consumed quickly. Sentences were short, conversations too. People preferred to communicate via texts, using emojis and abbreviations to keep effort to a minimum.

  These days, though, he had nothing but time. And he spent that time making sure he’d have more time. Among those who’d survived the first week, the rash and impatient were the first to die.

  He used his keycard to open the front door and exit the lobby. The sun was high overhead, with only the occasional cloud casting a shadow over the small park. He made his way across to the nearest street, and crouched behind a burned-out SUV. At one point the military had deployed its forces to try and contain the spread of the contamination. They took measures normally unthinkable outside a war zone. Entire neighborhoods were leveled with incendiary bombs and thermite grenades that burned so hot that no biological material remained. In cities across the world, the uninfected were sacrificed by the millions in vain attempts to stop the spread. The entire island of Manhattan was cut off, bridges destroyed, and tunnels collapsed, before the island was leveled. Even the surrounding water was saturated with oil and set on fire to prevent the infected from escaping that way.

  None of it worked.

  Mace listened carefully as he looked up and down the street. Any sound or movement likely meant danger. By this time, anything moving about on the surface was almost guaranteed to be infected with the zombie particles. Even a rat scurrying down an alley was a threat.

  Hearing and seeing nothing dangerous, he moved on down the street. He walked carefully, not shuffling his feet or slapping them on the pavement. He stepped over or around debris that would crinkle or snap under his feet. He gave wide berth to the trees growing in planter boxes along the sidewalk. They were great hiding places for birds and squirrels.

  A movement caught his eye, and he froze. In the park, which was now to his left, something rattled. Mace crouched down behind the low three-foot stone wall that lined the park’s boundaries. He held his breath, listening. Hearing nothing, he raised his head just enough to see over the wall.

  A small, greyish-brown bunny hopped out from behind a trash can. Mace did his best not to panic.

  Why did it have to be a damned bunny? Friggin small woodland creatures are hard to hit and too fast to outrun. Can’t use the spear. Might get lucky with the sword, but those teeth are sharp! If I miss, I’m dead. Better use the shotgun. So much for making it to the store. The noise will bring more. I’ll have to hide for a few more days…

  His mind raced as he sat frozen behind the wall, watching the innocent looking fuzzy bunny hop about. Waiting for it to spot him, or catch his scent, and charge. It took him a minute to register the fact that it was… innocent looking. He saw no signs of mutation. It didn’t seem aggressive at all. The thing hopped around on the sidewalk, sniffing occasionally at the grass, then backing away. As if it could smell the contamination.

  After a moment, Mace smiled. “So, you’re a survivor, too” he whispered more to himself than the fuzzy bunny. His moment of admiration quickly became a calculation of whether he could kill the rabbit for meat. Shaking his head, he decided to move on. He wasn’t that desperate.

  Yet.

  “Good luck, little buddy.”

  It was a quarter mile to the Safeway store. Since their first disastrous trip there, he’d seen no evidence of other survivors near the place. Mace and his group had gone back a few days after the attack to find the weapons dropped by both groups and the abandoned supplies mostly intact. He had been back there three other times with dwindling numbers of friends. The last time he’d been alone. Mace lifted a bicycle from against a wall, where he’d left it after his last trip. He had discovered that a bicycle with a well-oiled chain and gears was a nearly silent way to move quickly over longer distances. As long as he didn’t move too quickly, the rubber tires made almost no sound against the pavement. He’d added a basket to the front of this bike, and makeshift saddlebags on either side. Then he’d wrapped them all tightly with ace bandages to prevent rattling. Mace mounted the bike and pedaled his way up the street.

  Protein. I need protein. More jerky is good. Some canned stuff with meat in it. Ravioli or chicken and dumplings. Even pickled eggs would be okay. Do powdered eggs have protein? And more pancake mix and syrup. I should have grabbed hot pockets when I got those burritos. Breakfast of champions.

  Reaching the store, he circled around back and entered through the loading bay door. Navigating the main floor area of the store with its long rows of shelves and restricted spaces full of scattered debris would have been foolish.

  Just inside the door he stepped to one side so that his back was to the wall and he wasn’t silhouetted in the sunlight. He waited there, listening for a solid minute before he moved. Satisfied that he was alone, he set his spear against the wall, removed his backpack and unzipped it. Inside was a flashlight, bottle of water, and a first aid kit. He took a quick drink of water before replacing the bottle and grabbing the flashlight. Being careful to make as little noise as possible, he made his way into the warehouse section of the store.

  The room was filled with shelves that extended fifteen feet into the air. There were boxes and pallets of everything from toilet paper (he grabbed some of that – you can never have too much toilet paper) to cases of wine. Mace favored light weight dry foods like pasta, rice, things he could transport easily and would fill his stomach once combined with water. He also favored cheese blocks sealed in thick plastic. Meat was in short supply, so he took his protein where he could get it. Beef jerky was another staple. He’d found a box with several hundred individual packages of Jack Links’ teriyaki flavored jerky. The sodium content was high, but he doubted he was going to live long enough for high blood pressure to be an issue. A couple dozen of them went into his bag.

  Mace grabbed three boxes of pop tarts, the treats being sealed in individual foil wrappers making them safe. And he added several tubes of sour cream and onion flavored Pringles. He normally avoided jars and other heavy containers, but he added a large jar of pickles to one of the saddlebags. And several vacuum-sealed packages of dried fruit. He also grabbed a few cans of peaches and pears. Lastly, he filled a small cardboard box with cans of beef stew, chicken soup, and tuna. As well as a couple of jars of pasta sauce. These were heavy, but he needed the protein and vitamins they contained. One could not live on junk food alone.

  When he estimated that he had about three weeks’ worth of food, he made the trek back outside. He set the box of cans in the bike’s basket, and strapped the saddlebags onto the frame. Stepping back inside, he grabbed a handful of cloth bags from a shelf and stuffed them in between the cans in the box to keep them from rattling. With his backpack back on his shoulders, he grabbed his spear, shoved off from the loading dock and made his way down the street toward the park, and home.

  “SCREEAAGH.” Nearing the park a few minutes later, he heard a familiar screech that made his heart race.

  There was a crash on an upper floor of a nearby building, followed by a second lower pitched screech. Mace increased his pace, hoping that the two undead creatures would be occupied fighting each other and not even notice him passing below them. The noise would draw any others in the vicinity, and he wanted to be long gone when that happened.

  He flew past the spot where he normally parked his bike to walk across the park. Instead, he rode his bike right up to the lobby door
s, looking frantically left and right as he did so. He quickly swiped his keycard over the scanner and yanked open the doors, pushing his bike into the lobby. After pulling the door tightly closed to ensure it locked, he moved quickly across the lobby floor and around the corner out of sight in the elevator corridor. Once there, he finally paused to take a breath and calm himself.

  He peered back around the corner to look outside the lobby. It wasn’t enough just to be safe inside. He needed to be unseen. While the once-human creatures didn’t think in complex terms, they were more than capable of tracking prey and waiting for it to emerge again. Or worse, losing patience and breaking through the glass to enter the building. The next time Mace had to go to the surface, he didn’t want to step out of the elevator and find one of them waiting for him.

  He sat listening as the sounds of fighting drifted in through the glass doors. The original two combatants were inevitably joined by at least one other.

  From the sounds of it, one of them was quite large. Mace took a chance and scooted back over to the reception desk. He had stowed a pair of binoculars there. Looking across the park, he tried to see some evidence of the fight. Finding nothing, he directed one of the building’s roof-mounted security cameras toward the building he thought they’d been inside. Using the zoom feature, he was able to detect movement in a fifth-floor window.

  Mace took another drink of water as he studied the screen. He had been lucky enough to find his way underground very early in the first wave of contaminants. He’d been in the building for a job interview. The company that owned the building was part way through it’s prototype testing of the latest development in immersion pods. Mace was, in addition to being an avid gamer, a talented coder who specialized in neuro-interface tech. He had recognized in college that VR was the future of entertainment, business, and online sales. So he’d worked hard to become among the best in the field. He was just being offered a lucrative position working in the company’s neurotech lab, when explosions started happening and sirens began to screech.