As soon as Ron and Mr. Barkin were out of sight John quickly jogged out
into the large courtyard that was bisected by a concrete path leading to
the south side building. Miguel had actually done his job correctly and was
somewhere in the school, or maybe he's dead, John thought, he has served
his purpose already. Miguel was the guy who had sabotaged the schools power
systems.
John pulled out a small can of plastic explosive from his pack and sprayed a small amount of the fizzing yellow foam onto the lawn. The spray hardened instantly as John plunged a metal detonator into the small mound of foam.
It's a good thing those people didn't even ask me how I knew so much about umbrella, or I may have had to kill them, John though as he stepped behind a concrete wall. John would do anything to get the job done but he was not an assassin for this particular job; He would not kill another human being unless absolutely necessary.
Flipping up the cover on the small cylindrical device, John clenched his teeth for the resulting explosion. He pushed the small red button and a loud WHOOF was heard, muffled by the steel door but still shook John's bones. John waited a few seconds then pulled open the steel door and stepped back out into the side courtyard. A smoking hole that only the blind couldn't see sat on one side of the concrete path. The hole was about six feet in diameter and three feet deep.
The plastic explosives weren't the best or cleanest way to get to the trap door buried under the ground but it sure beat the crap out of digging with a shovel. John jumped into the hole and brushed aside so of the loose dirt with his gloved hands. John searched the bottom of the entire hole and thought he may have blew up the wrong spot or he had to go deeper when his hands felt cold metal.
John eagerly brushed away the dirt around the edge of the three by three foot iron door and dug his fingers underneath. He heaved upward and the heavy door creaked on its long-oiled hinges. A dark shaft led downward with a ladder on one side. John pulled himself on the first rung and began his slow descent.
Ron had reached the power room after a short trek down school. He had exited the main office and into the central courtyard where he had left Mr. Barkin. Taking a left he ran down the corridor that wrapped around the side and back of the auditorium. Ron stopped at a locked gate that extended all the way up to the ceiling. The gate led into the spill out area, the large paved space now a desolate wasteland, devoid of teenagers.
Ron's destination however was the door beside him. The large blue metal door was labeled: power room, authorized personal only. "I guess I'm one of those persons." Ron said as he pulled at the heavy door. Surprisingly the door slid cleanly on its hinges toward Ron. "That's weird, I thought the thing would be locked and I would have to run all over creation looking for the key," Ron said humorously. "I guess my luck has changed," he said.
Keeping Mr. Barkin's berretta pointing forward Ron slowly crept into the room. The lights in the room were already on and glowing dully. There were two large generators that distributed power to the school placed in the center of the dank room. Each one had a control panel on the side. Ron stepped over to the first generators power panel, placing the pistol in his pocket. A pair of gauges was placed on the panel, one labeled: input, and the other labeled: output. The needle on the input gauge was all the way to the right and pointing to the green area of the gauge. The output gauge however was all the way in the red.
A quick check of the second generator however showed the output gauge was in the green as much as the input gauge. "Ok, so generator number one over here is the problem." Ron didn't know much about electronics so he stood for a few minutes on how to go about fixing the problem.
He noticed multiple metal tubes extending from the generators all seemed to feed into a large metal box on the wall labeled: distribution grid. Maybe the problem is in there Ron thought.
His thoughts however were interrupted by a low moaning noise coming from straight behind him. Ron quickly spun around and backed away from the open doorway. He reached for the berretta and raised it with a shaky hand. The figure stumbled into view and Ron new it was a zombie. The creature shuffled forward toward him and Ron recognized the person.
Placing his free hand under his gun hand Ron steadied his aim. "Sorry about this Bonnie, buts it's either you or me," Ron said as he pulled the trigger.
Mr. Barkin dropped the spent magazine and loaded a fresh one into the rifles receiver. He recycled the bolt as he searched the cafeteria for more targets. When he entered the room he had stumbled across a pack of giant sized scorpions that just kept getting up no matter how much he shot them; until he used a grenade that is.
He was crouched behind the serving counter, the remains of the lunch ladies a few feet away. A horde of the zombies shuffled stupidly across the floor, trying to negotiate the multiple tables and overturned chairs. There not going anywhere fast Mr. Barkin thought as he crawled through the doorframe and into the kitchen, careful to stay out of sight.
Once the door swung back, Mr. Barkin stood and surveyed the large kitchen. With all the freakishly wrong things he has seen tonight, Mr. Barkin half expected some conscious man being dissected on a table here in this kitchen. Stepping forward Mr. Barkin made his way to the pantry. He reached for the knob and stopped.
He had seen enough horror films to know that whenever someone opens a pantry or closet, something is just waiting inside to spring itself upon them. Instead Mr. Barkin stood and holstered the rifle and drew his sidearm. With the gun in one hand Mr. Barkin stood to one side of the door and turned the handle.
He pulled the door open towards him, his body hidden by the door, and just as he had expected a figure tumbled to the space where he had been standing moments ago. Mr. Barkin trained his pistol on the back of the figures head but as it turned over he realized it was human.
Not only was he human it was Mr. Herman, one of the schools three cooks. "Barkin, you're, you're alive," he said frantically. Mr. Barkin's eyes trailed down to the man's right arm, it had a piece of blood stained cloth tied to it on the bicep. "Where did you get that wound?" Mr. Barkin asked, ignoring all of Mr. Herman's questions. "What? Oh this wound, one of those zombies bit me but I managed to get away before they surrounded me and I've been hiding here since." He said in one breath.
Mr. Barkin's gaze stayed glued to the man's arm as he babbled on. What had John said? That if you get bitten by one of those things you get a virus and there is no cure; that you will eventually turns into a zombie yourself? Mr. Barkin understood now, this man was infected and must be dealt with. "Mr. Herman I'm sorry but I cannot allow you to live any longer," Mr. Barkin said firmly as cocked the berretta.
"What are talking about-"was all he could say before Mr. Barkin put a bullet between his eyes. "Your better off that way," Mr. Barkin quietly. Suddenly the Kitchen door burst open as a horde of the undead spilled into the room. "Shit!" Mr. Barkin said as he raised his hand gun and opened fire on the crowd. His first shot went wide and ricocheted off a pan, causing a loud zinging noise to echo though the confined room. The second and third shots however punched through the zombies head and throat.
A gurgling sound came from deep in its throat as it slumped forward with a fizzing green liquid flowing freely down its face. The second zombies head exploded as Mr. barkin put a round through its eye socket. The last zombie slumped next to its fallen brethren from another headshot.
Mr. Barkin ran forward and threw his weight against a large serving table, shoving it in front of the closed door, before any more of the grisly creatures could stumble through. The loud noise of rapping fingers against the door filled Mr. Barkin's ears as he ran back to the pantry. Moaning and groaning from maybe dozens of zombies could be heard outside the barricaded door.
Inside the pantry were various foods, all standard school issue, meaning it wasn't very good. A large burlap sack of potatoes sat in one corner of the small room. Mr. Barkin pulled open the bag and emptied about half of the potatoes out onto the floor "Let's get some variety in our diets, shall we," Mr. Barkin said to himself as he pulled very containers of pasta, fruits, canned meat, and biscuits. The heavy burlap sack weighed a good twenty five pounds now as Mr. Barkin hefted up on his shoulder. Steeping over Mr. Herman's corpse, Mr. Barkin proceeded over to the freezer.
He pulled open the heavy metal door and peered inside the chilled compartment. He threw a few packets of processed cheese, cartons of milk, and juice. Mr. barkin left the mound of wrapped ice cream alone however, as it would simply become a melted mess in the sack.
Throwing the large sack over his shoulder Mr. Barkin peered at the kitchen door, a crowd of undead eagerly waiting to welcome him through by ripping him apart. Instead of wasting his last grenade on dusting the crowd, he opted for the more sneaky approach. The kitchen had a back door that opened up to the front of the school. He could go around the side and back through the main entrance to the office.
He approached the locked door and slid the bolt back into place. He reached for the knob with his free hand and pulled the door open. He stuck his head out into the crisp air, still smelling heavily of rotting meat. Moving quickly along the wall Mr. Barkin averted his gaze from the dozens of bodies scattered across the field.
The sun was beginning to set, casting a dreamlike glow over the school and surrounding buildings. Mr. Barkin never really watched sunsets because he was always working and rushing around. However he stopped, staring at the mix of colors in the clouds, it was very beautiful, and to think he never stopped to admire it.
A loud screech tore him out of his trance and his instincts kicked. Mr. Barkin felt a change in the air to his left and without even looking he dived forward, dropping the burlap sack and pulling the M16 over his shoulder. He landed on his stomach, rolled over onto his back and saw a massive, winged beast drive its beak into the concrete wall he had been standing next to. The beak had speared right into the concrete and must have been incredibly sharp.
The creature itself looked like a massive pterodactyl, that was bigger then twice over; It's beady black eye stared at Mr. Barkin intently, as it tried to free its beak from the wall. Mr. Barkin raised his rifle and let loose an automatic spray of .223s into its beady black eye. The bullets tore through the prehistoric bird's skull and sprayed the wall with red blood, and bits of bone.
The monsters body slumped to the ground, twitching. The beak was still lodged into the wall, no longer attached to the beasts head. More of the high pitched screeches echoed from the distance, among the surrounding buildings. Mr. Barkin snatched up the burlap sack and ran the rest of the way into the schools shattered entrance.
John lowered himself and his feet felt firm ground once again. The bottom of the corridor opened up into a small room with a single door on one side. At the bottom of the ladder, was a small, brightly marked button. John lowered his face mask and activated his built in night vision. The small room was a pale and ghostly green from John's point of view. He hurried over and tapped a switch next to the door.
The door slid to the side and revealed a small platform with a single rail on one side. John stepped onto the cramped platform and tapped a green button on the wall. The small platform began to slowly descend. This was the only way to access the bomb cache under the school which was why Miguel had to divert power from the school to power the lift and systems in the complex below.
The lift came to a stop and John stepped off, it wouldn't be long now.
Mr. Barkin made his way across the hall to the opposite side of the front building and burst through the door. He was outside again on the covered path that led straight and into the main building. He walked forward a little and turned to knock on the door to the office.
He stopped however as his eyes caught sight of something in the secondary courtyard. A large hole was blown open on one side of the lawn. Where the hell did that come from? Mr. Barkin said, placing the burlap sack down in front of the door. He moved down the concrete path and peered down the large hole. A small metal panel sat to one side of the hole. Mr. Barkin's curiosity took over and he jumped down into the dirt depression and grabbed the edge of the metal panel.
Spying a pair of hinges on one side, Mr. Barkin pulled toward his chest, the heavy metal creaking. The steel trap door swung to the other side of the hinges and stood suspended in midair, exposing the dark tunnel it had concealed. Mr. Barkin reached into his back pack and pulled out a dull green stick of plastic. He took it in both hands and snapped it. The chemicals mixed and the flare shined a bright green. Mr. Barkin tossed it down the shaft and saw it come to a stop in a matter of seconds.
The shaft wasn't as deep as he had thought. Curious to know where the shaft led, Mr. Barkin grabbed onto the ladder and began to descend.
Kim sat with her leg propped on a desk. She and Sam had been discussing things just to create conversation and prevent the eerie silence that surely would have come. Sam couldn't seem to keep still for some reason, always fiddling around with something. He had tossed a tarp over the corpse on the floor though it didn't hide the smell that well. The gruesome scene in Mr. Emerson's office however, did not emanate a very bad smell as long as they kept the door shut and a towel stuffed under it.
Sam rummaged around the small supply closet where he had found the tarp and towel. He was trying to find some kind of spray to hide the smell as it seemed to be driving him crazy.
At last he emerged from the closet with a small can in his hand. Kim had learned to ignore the smell but she didn't mind if it was gotten rid of. Sam went over to the tarp, shook the can and sprayed out a white mist in its direction. He shook the spray back and forth and then in the direction of the door. He stopped, shook the can again and then ran the length of the large office, spraying the pine scent as he ran. "Sam I'm pretty sure that's enough," Kim said, coughing. "Sorry, but I just really hate that smell, I don't understand how you can just ignore it." Sam said walking over to her Kim.
Kim began to worry about Ron and how many of her friends were probably dead. Monique, the cheer squad, even Bonnie were probably gone or walking the halls as one of those zombies. Kim wondered if it hurt when turning into one of those creatures, slowly loosing your grasp on reality, your mind beginning to dissolve until the only thought on it was to eat.
Her eyes began to well up and she gulped and took a deep breath, not wanting show a sign of weakness. Sam could already tell that there was something disturbing her, besides the fact that they were trapped in a school filled with the living dead that is. "What's the matter," Sam said quietly. Kim looked over at him; she had momentarily forgotten he was there. "I just. I'm just sad that my friends are out there, probably dead, and I can't do a thing to help them." She said, a rasp in her.
"I can't really relate since I don't really have any friends, at least not in this city, I'm not exactly a social butterfly," Sam said slouching back on an office chair. "What about your parents?" Kim asked. "Their on a business trip in Europe right know," Sam replied easily. "Lucky you," Kim replied, a hint of venom in her voice, but low enough so Sam didn't hear.
"So Kim, I hear you have a crush on this guy. Josh something," Sam asked trying to be as smooth as possible and not let the hatred inside him pass his lips. "Well I pretty much gave up on Josh since things weren't exactly going very smoothly," Kim answered surprised at the question. "Really.uh, I'm sorry to hear about that," Sam said, nearly sliding out of the office chair.
"Well. are you seeing anyone as of now?" Sam said, barely able to contain his glee. "I guess I like this one guy," Kim said a bit shyly. Sam felt his spirits plummet as fast as they had risen. "Oh. well who?" Sam asked, clenching his fist. "Don't take this the wrong way Sam but I really don't know you well enough to divulge that kind of information." Kim snapped.
"I see, well I am going to search the desks again" Sam said standing and walking around the corner to the other side of the office. As soon as he was out of sight he mouthed out a series of silent curses. He hoped whoever the guy was he was having his heart ripped out just like him.
Ron felt like his heart had been ripped out as Bonnie's body slumped to the cold floor. Even if it was Bonnie and even if she was a mindless, flesh eating zombie, Ron still felt as though he just murdered someone. He put his back to the wall and slid to the floor, the berretta still hot in his hand. She was gone anyway, as gone as if she was buried six feet under. I didn't kill her since she was already dead. Ron thought to himself. "It was as logical as self defense," Ron said out loud. "She would have killed me if I hadn't shot first." He added.
He still had a job to do however, he could justify his actions later. Standing back on his feet Ron pulled open the cover to the grid distribution box. "Oh crap," Ron said as he stared at the jumble of wires and sockets that filled every inch of the two by three foot metal container.
"Ok, I can do this," Ron said, taking a deep breath. He peered at a metal panel that took up about two thirds of the space inside the container. The panel had several round plugs slotted into a line of ports that ran all the way down the panel. Each plug had a label next to it, such as: Main building outlet, Front building outlet, Side building outlet, etc. Ron ran his eyes down the list until he came across a likely looking space.
"What do we have here?" Ron asked himself as he peered at the port labeled 'Main light'; it was the only port missing a plug. Ron continued down the list of labels until he came to a port that was missing a label. "That's odd." Ron said. He also noticed each port was labeled with a color and that the corresponding wire went into that port, logically.
The 'main light' port was outlined with blue. Ron hurried, quickly searching through the mass of intertwined, multi colored wires. Locating the thin strand of blue plastic, he followed it down to where it ended- on the unlabeled port. "I'm guessing you don't belong here," Ron said as he yanked the plug loose and reinserted it into its matching port.
A few seconds went by and Ron thought he had replaced the wrong wire and was about to try again when the dim lights overhead flickered and brightened to the full extent of their capacity. "Score one for the good guys!" Ron cheered, throwing his fist into the air.
John pulled the disable lever down on the wall, thus deactivating the trap. Umbrella had set up various traps in a series of rooms to prevent intruders from tampering with the bomb cache. Very few knew how to bypass the deadly defenses but fortunately John was one of them. The floor, walls and ceiling of this first room were covered with pressure sensitive panels, each with numerous holes on their surface. If someone should step on one of these panels, a cluster of meter long, titanium spikes would spring up from the holes and impale them.
The catch was however that some of the panels were loaded with spikes and some were not. Every panel had holes in it, whether fake or not, the only way to tell the difference was that the safe panels were a slightly lighter color then the loaded ones. If you were lucky enough to pick the right color, there was only one clear path to the other side of the room. You didn't have time to think about the right path however as moments after entering the room, the door slams shut and the wall begins to move forward, forcing you over the panels. This room had been pretty simple but the next was bound to be more difficult. His briefing had mentioned something about buzz saws. The loud screeching sound of metal against metal pierced the air and then the room went dark.
Auxiliary lights flickered on, bathing the room with a reddish glow. "Damn you, Miguel!" John shouted. The motion tracker on his belt chose that moment to start beeping. John forgot about Miguel's incompetence for a moment and thought about who could be down here. Maybe a licker or something crawled down the shaft John thought.
He reached for the activation lever and pushed it back down, resetting the trap. Whatever or whoever was following would pay dearly for their medaling. The heavy doors separating the different rooms of the underground complex fortunately ran on auxiliary power and slid apart once John tapped the green access key.
He walked through into the next room and the challenge that waited.
John pulled out a small can of plastic explosive from his pack and sprayed a small amount of the fizzing yellow foam onto the lawn. The spray hardened instantly as John plunged a metal detonator into the small mound of foam.
It's a good thing those people didn't even ask me how I knew so much about umbrella, or I may have had to kill them, John though as he stepped behind a concrete wall. John would do anything to get the job done but he was not an assassin for this particular job; He would not kill another human being unless absolutely necessary.
Flipping up the cover on the small cylindrical device, John clenched his teeth for the resulting explosion. He pushed the small red button and a loud WHOOF was heard, muffled by the steel door but still shook John's bones. John waited a few seconds then pulled open the steel door and stepped back out into the side courtyard. A smoking hole that only the blind couldn't see sat on one side of the concrete path. The hole was about six feet in diameter and three feet deep.
The plastic explosives weren't the best or cleanest way to get to the trap door buried under the ground but it sure beat the crap out of digging with a shovel. John jumped into the hole and brushed aside so of the loose dirt with his gloved hands. John searched the bottom of the entire hole and thought he may have blew up the wrong spot or he had to go deeper when his hands felt cold metal.
John eagerly brushed away the dirt around the edge of the three by three foot iron door and dug his fingers underneath. He heaved upward and the heavy door creaked on its long-oiled hinges. A dark shaft led downward with a ladder on one side. John pulled himself on the first rung and began his slow descent.
Ron had reached the power room after a short trek down school. He had exited the main office and into the central courtyard where he had left Mr. Barkin. Taking a left he ran down the corridor that wrapped around the side and back of the auditorium. Ron stopped at a locked gate that extended all the way up to the ceiling. The gate led into the spill out area, the large paved space now a desolate wasteland, devoid of teenagers.
Ron's destination however was the door beside him. The large blue metal door was labeled: power room, authorized personal only. "I guess I'm one of those persons." Ron said as he pulled at the heavy door. Surprisingly the door slid cleanly on its hinges toward Ron. "That's weird, I thought the thing would be locked and I would have to run all over creation looking for the key," Ron said humorously. "I guess my luck has changed," he said.
Keeping Mr. Barkin's berretta pointing forward Ron slowly crept into the room. The lights in the room were already on and glowing dully. There were two large generators that distributed power to the school placed in the center of the dank room. Each one had a control panel on the side. Ron stepped over to the first generators power panel, placing the pistol in his pocket. A pair of gauges was placed on the panel, one labeled: input, and the other labeled: output. The needle on the input gauge was all the way to the right and pointing to the green area of the gauge. The output gauge however was all the way in the red.
A quick check of the second generator however showed the output gauge was in the green as much as the input gauge. "Ok, so generator number one over here is the problem." Ron didn't know much about electronics so he stood for a few minutes on how to go about fixing the problem.
He noticed multiple metal tubes extending from the generators all seemed to feed into a large metal box on the wall labeled: distribution grid. Maybe the problem is in there Ron thought.
His thoughts however were interrupted by a low moaning noise coming from straight behind him. Ron quickly spun around and backed away from the open doorway. He reached for the berretta and raised it with a shaky hand. The figure stumbled into view and Ron new it was a zombie. The creature shuffled forward toward him and Ron recognized the person.
Placing his free hand under his gun hand Ron steadied his aim. "Sorry about this Bonnie, buts it's either you or me," Ron said as he pulled the trigger.
Mr. Barkin dropped the spent magazine and loaded a fresh one into the rifles receiver. He recycled the bolt as he searched the cafeteria for more targets. When he entered the room he had stumbled across a pack of giant sized scorpions that just kept getting up no matter how much he shot them; until he used a grenade that is.
He was crouched behind the serving counter, the remains of the lunch ladies a few feet away. A horde of the zombies shuffled stupidly across the floor, trying to negotiate the multiple tables and overturned chairs. There not going anywhere fast Mr. Barkin thought as he crawled through the doorframe and into the kitchen, careful to stay out of sight.
Once the door swung back, Mr. Barkin stood and surveyed the large kitchen. With all the freakishly wrong things he has seen tonight, Mr. Barkin half expected some conscious man being dissected on a table here in this kitchen. Stepping forward Mr. Barkin made his way to the pantry. He reached for the knob and stopped.
He had seen enough horror films to know that whenever someone opens a pantry or closet, something is just waiting inside to spring itself upon them. Instead Mr. Barkin stood and holstered the rifle and drew his sidearm. With the gun in one hand Mr. Barkin stood to one side of the door and turned the handle.
He pulled the door open towards him, his body hidden by the door, and just as he had expected a figure tumbled to the space where he had been standing moments ago. Mr. Barkin trained his pistol on the back of the figures head but as it turned over he realized it was human.
Not only was he human it was Mr. Herman, one of the schools three cooks. "Barkin, you're, you're alive," he said frantically. Mr. Barkin's eyes trailed down to the man's right arm, it had a piece of blood stained cloth tied to it on the bicep. "Where did you get that wound?" Mr. Barkin asked, ignoring all of Mr. Herman's questions. "What? Oh this wound, one of those zombies bit me but I managed to get away before they surrounded me and I've been hiding here since." He said in one breath.
Mr. Barkin's gaze stayed glued to the man's arm as he babbled on. What had John said? That if you get bitten by one of those things you get a virus and there is no cure; that you will eventually turns into a zombie yourself? Mr. Barkin understood now, this man was infected and must be dealt with. "Mr. Herman I'm sorry but I cannot allow you to live any longer," Mr. Barkin said firmly as cocked the berretta.
"What are talking about-"was all he could say before Mr. Barkin put a bullet between his eyes. "Your better off that way," Mr. Barkin quietly. Suddenly the Kitchen door burst open as a horde of the undead spilled into the room. "Shit!" Mr. Barkin said as he raised his hand gun and opened fire on the crowd. His first shot went wide and ricocheted off a pan, causing a loud zinging noise to echo though the confined room. The second and third shots however punched through the zombies head and throat.
A gurgling sound came from deep in its throat as it slumped forward with a fizzing green liquid flowing freely down its face. The second zombies head exploded as Mr. barkin put a round through its eye socket. The last zombie slumped next to its fallen brethren from another headshot.
Mr. Barkin ran forward and threw his weight against a large serving table, shoving it in front of the closed door, before any more of the grisly creatures could stumble through. The loud noise of rapping fingers against the door filled Mr. Barkin's ears as he ran back to the pantry. Moaning and groaning from maybe dozens of zombies could be heard outside the barricaded door.
Inside the pantry were various foods, all standard school issue, meaning it wasn't very good. A large burlap sack of potatoes sat in one corner of the small room. Mr. Barkin pulled open the bag and emptied about half of the potatoes out onto the floor "Let's get some variety in our diets, shall we," Mr. Barkin said to himself as he pulled very containers of pasta, fruits, canned meat, and biscuits. The heavy burlap sack weighed a good twenty five pounds now as Mr. Barkin hefted up on his shoulder. Steeping over Mr. Herman's corpse, Mr. Barkin proceeded over to the freezer.
He pulled open the heavy metal door and peered inside the chilled compartment. He threw a few packets of processed cheese, cartons of milk, and juice. Mr. barkin left the mound of wrapped ice cream alone however, as it would simply become a melted mess in the sack.
Throwing the large sack over his shoulder Mr. Barkin peered at the kitchen door, a crowd of undead eagerly waiting to welcome him through by ripping him apart. Instead of wasting his last grenade on dusting the crowd, he opted for the more sneaky approach. The kitchen had a back door that opened up to the front of the school. He could go around the side and back through the main entrance to the office.
He approached the locked door and slid the bolt back into place. He reached for the knob with his free hand and pulled the door open. He stuck his head out into the crisp air, still smelling heavily of rotting meat. Moving quickly along the wall Mr. Barkin averted his gaze from the dozens of bodies scattered across the field.
The sun was beginning to set, casting a dreamlike glow over the school and surrounding buildings. Mr. Barkin never really watched sunsets because he was always working and rushing around. However he stopped, staring at the mix of colors in the clouds, it was very beautiful, and to think he never stopped to admire it.
A loud screech tore him out of his trance and his instincts kicked. Mr. Barkin felt a change in the air to his left and without even looking he dived forward, dropping the burlap sack and pulling the M16 over his shoulder. He landed on his stomach, rolled over onto his back and saw a massive, winged beast drive its beak into the concrete wall he had been standing next to. The beak had speared right into the concrete and must have been incredibly sharp.
The creature itself looked like a massive pterodactyl, that was bigger then twice over; It's beady black eye stared at Mr. Barkin intently, as it tried to free its beak from the wall. Mr. Barkin raised his rifle and let loose an automatic spray of .223s into its beady black eye. The bullets tore through the prehistoric bird's skull and sprayed the wall with red blood, and bits of bone.
The monsters body slumped to the ground, twitching. The beak was still lodged into the wall, no longer attached to the beasts head. More of the high pitched screeches echoed from the distance, among the surrounding buildings. Mr. Barkin snatched up the burlap sack and ran the rest of the way into the schools shattered entrance.
John lowered himself and his feet felt firm ground once again. The bottom of the corridor opened up into a small room with a single door on one side. At the bottom of the ladder, was a small, brightly marked button. John lowered his face mask and activated his built in night vision. The small room was a pale and ghostly green from John's point of view. He hurried over and tapped a switch next to the door.
The door slid to the side and revealed a small platform with a single rail on one side. John stepped onto the cramped platform and tapped a green button on the wall. The small platform began to slowly descend. This was the only way to access the bomb cache under the school which was why Miguel had to divert power from the school to power the lift and systems in the complex below.
The lift came to a stop and John stepped off, it wouldn't be long now.
Mr. Barkin made his way across the hall to the opposite side of the front building and burst through the door. He was outside again on the covered path that led straight and into the main building. He walked forward a little and turned to knock on the door to the office.
He stopped however as his eyes caught sight of something in the secondary courtyard. A large hole was blown open on one side of the lawn. Where the hell did that come from? Mr. Barkin said, placing the burlap sack down in front of the door. He moved down the concrete path and peered down the large hole. A small metal panel sat to one side of the hole. Mr. Barkin's curiosity took over and he jumped down into the dirt depression and grabbed the edge of the metal panel.
Spying a pair of hinges on one side, Mr. Barkin pulled toward his chest, the heavy metal creaking. The steel trap door swung to the other side of the hinges and stood suspended in midair, exposing the dark tunnel it had concealed. Mr. Barkin reached into his back pack and pulled out a dull green stick of plastic. He took it in both hands and snapped it. The chemicals mixed and the flare shined a bright green. Mr. Barkin tossed it down the shaft and saw it come to a stop in a matter of seconds.
The shaft wasn't as deep as he had thought. Curious to know where the shaft led, Mr. Barkin grabbed onto the ladder and began to descend.
Kim sat with her leg propped on a desk. She and Sam had been discussing things just to create conversation and prevent the eerie silence that surely would have come. Sam couldn't seem to keep still for some reason, always fiddling around with something. He had tossed a tarp over the corpse on the floor though it didn't hide the smell that well. The gruesome scene in Mr. Emerson's office however, did not emanate a very bad smell as long as they kept the door shut and a towel stuffed under it.
Sam rummaged around the small supply closet where he had found the tarp and towel. He was trying to find some kind of spray to hide the smell as it seemed to be driving him crazy.
At last he emerged from the closet with a small can in his hand. Kim had learned to ignore the smell but she didn't mind if it was gotten rid of. Sam went over to the tarp, shook the can and sprayed out a white mist in its direction. He shook the spray back and forth and then in the direction of the door. He stopped, shook the can again and then ran the length of the large office, spraying the pine scent as he ran. "Sam I'm pretty sure that's enough," Kim said, coughing. "Sorry, but I just really hate that smell, I don't understand how you can just ignore it." Sam said walking over to her Kim.
Kim began to worry about Ron and how many of her friends were probably dead. Monique, the cheer squad, even Bonnie were probably gone or walking the halls as one of those zombies. Kim wondered if it hurt when turning into one of those creatures, slowly loosing your grasp on reality, your mind beginning to dissolve until the only thought on it was to eat.
Her eyes began to well up and she gulped and took a deep breath, not wanting show a sign of weakness. Sam could already tell that there was something disturbing her, besides the fact that they were trapped in a school filled with the living dead that is. "What's the matter," Sam said quietly. Kim looked over at him; she had momentarily forgotten he was there. "I just. I'm just sad that my friends are out there, probably dead, and I can't do a thing to help them." She said, a rasp in her.
"I can't really relate since I don't really have any friends, at least not in this city, I'm not exactly a social butterfly," Sam said slouching back on an office chair. "What about your parents?" Kim asked. "Their on a business trip in Europe right know," Sam replied easily. "Lucky you," Kim replied, a hint of venom in her voice, but low enough so Sam didn't hear.
"So Kim, I hear you have a crush on this guy. Josh something," Sam asked trying to be as smooth as possible and not let the hatred inside him pass his lips. "Well I pretty much gave up on Josh since things weren't exactly going very smoothly," Kim answered surprised at the question. "Really.uh, I'm sorry to hear about that," Sam said, nearly sliding out of the office chair.
"Well. are you seeing anyone as of now?" Sam said, barely able to contain his glee. "I guess I like this one guy," Kim said a bit shyly. Sam felt his spirits plummet as fast as they had risen. "Oh. well who?" Sam asked, clenching his fist. "Don't take this the wrong way Sam but I really don't know you well enough to divulge that kind of information." Kim snapped.
"I see, well I am going to search the desks again" Sam said standing and walking around the corner to the other side of the office. As soon as he was out of sight he mouthed out a series of silent curses. He hoped whoever the guy was he was having his heart ripped out just like him.
Ron felt like his heart had been ripped out as Bonnie's body slumped to the cold floor. Even if it was Bonnie and even if she was a mindless, flesh eating zombie, Ron still felt as though he just murdered someone. He put his back to the wall and slid to the floor, the berretta still hot in his hand. She was gone anyway, as gone as if she was buried six feet under. I didn't kill her since she was already dead. Ron thought to himself. "It was as logical as self defense," Ron said out loud. "She would have killed me if I hadn't shot first." He added.
He still had a job to do however, he could justify his actions later. Standing back on his feet Ron pulled open the cover to the grid distribution box. "Oh crap," Ron said as he stared at the jumble of wires and sockets that filled every inch of the two by three foot metal container.
"Ok, I can do this," Ron said, taking a deep breath. He peered at a metal panel that took up about two thirds of the space inside the container. The panel had several round plugs slotted into a line of ports that ran all the way down the panel. Each plug had a label next to it, such as: Main building outlet, Front building outlet, Side building outlet, etc. Ron ran his eyes down the list until he came across a likely looking space.
"What do we have here?" Ron asked himself as he peered at the port labeled 'Main light'; it was the only port missing a plug. Ron continued down the list of labels until he came to a port that was missing a label. "That's odd." Ron said. He also noticed each port was labeled with a color and that the corresponding wire went into that port, logically.
The 'main light' port was outlined with blue. Ron hurried, quickly searching through the mass of intertwined, multi colored wires. Locating the thin strand of blue plastic, he followed it down to where it ended- on the unlabeled port. "I'm guessing you don't belong here," Ron said as he yanked the plug loose and reinserted it into its matching port.
A few seconds went by and Ron thought he had replaced the wrong wire and was about to try again when the dim lights overhead flickered and brightened to the full extent of their capacity. "Score one for the good guys!" Ron cheered, throwing his fist into the air.
John pulled the disable lever down on the wall, thus deactivating the trap. Umbrella had set up various traps in a series of rooms to prevent intruders from tampering with the bomb cache. Very few knew how to bypass the deadly defenses but fortunately John was one of them. The floor, walls and ceiling of this first room were covered with pressure sensitive panels, each with numerous holes on their surface. If someone should step on one of these panels, a cluster of meter long, titanium spikes would spring up from the holes and impale them.
The catch was however that some of the panels were loaded with spikes and some were not. Every panel had holes in it, whether fake or not, the only way to tell the difference was that the safe panels were a slightly lighter color then the loaded ones. If you were lucky enough to pick the right color, there was only one clear path to the other side of the room. You didn't have time to think about the right path however as moments after entering the room, the door slams shut and the wall begins to move forward, forcing you over the panels. This room had been pretty simple but the next was bound to be more difficult. His briefing had mentioned something about buzz saws. The loud screeching sound of metal against metal pierced the air and then the room went dark.
Auxiliary lights flickered on, bathing the room with a reddish glow. "Damn you, Miguel!" John shouted. The motion tracker on his belt chose that moment to start beeping. John forgot about Miguel's incompetence for a moment and thought about who could be down here. Maybe a licker or something crawled down the shaft John thought.
He reached for the activation lever and pushed it back down, resetting the trap. Whatever or whoever was following would pay dearly for their medaling. The heavy doors separating the different rooms of the underground complex fortunately ran on auxiliary power and slid apart once John tapped the green access key.
He walked through into the next room and the challenge that waited.